#and also just a bad business strategy

[writerblue275]

Riot charging $500 (FIVE-HUNDRED WHOLE US DOLLARS) for that Faker Ahri skin bundle is fucking obscene on so many levels.

1. How the hell are you going to release something to “celebrate” the GOAT of the game but then price it so only a few can buy it and fucking celebrate him?

2. Isn’t Faker known for being frugal??? Like there’s video evidence of this.

3. Related to #2: WHEN THE FUCK HAS FAKER EVER USED A SKIN WHILE PLAYING AHRI??? Hell, while playing any champion?? A very minimal amount I can tell you that. Faker's Ahri skin of choice is her BASE SKIN.

1-3 summarized: Don't drag Faker's name through the mud because of your corporate greed, Riot.

4. Riot is testing the boundaries of what they can get away with here. My friend was telling me stories of how upset people were that Pulsefire Ezreal was $20. Then they managed to get away with the $200 Samira and Jhin skins (which is still fucking obscene). Now this?? Dumb as hell. And it’ll likely just keep getting worse if the pushback isn’t severe enough. So tone-deaf.

[f1fantasys]

uhm so i have an idea where Lando is working out alone to release his emotions, perhaps after a bad day or bad race. but suddenly, you enter the gym, which annoys him because he wanted to be alone right now.

however, as you start working out, he kinda ogling your 🍒 and eventually decides to approach you to talk and that led to the spicy part when he starts touching you and fucked you on one of the bench using you to let out his anger 🫣 tysm!!!

THIS!! I don't feel like I've done this INCREDIBLE request justice. So someone please write a better one and tag me in it! @ccsainzleclerc5516 you would do amazing at this!

POST RACE WORKOUT

Warnings - smut!! need i say more?

2.4 words. IDK why it's so short - feel like i have writers block.

The Monaco weekend was always a fun one. Fun, but extremely busy, especially being a Sky presenter. From the Monday leading up to the weekend you'd been in and out of meetings, events, and not to mention recording and being live on air for several hours a day. But you loved it, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

But now that the race and post-race shows were finally over, you still had a lot of adrenaline and energy to burn, which is why you currently found yourself walking up the stairs to the gym, wearing the tightest tights and a sports bra. It was well past midnight, but, having connections had its perks, so here you were.

You pushed open the door and stopped in your tracks. There was some distant music playing and as your eyes scanned the room you definitely weren't expecting to find Lando Norris who was currently lifting weights, shirtless, might I add. He stopped what he was doing and stood up, eyes shamelessly searching your body, but an annoyed look on his face.

''Uh, hey'' you greeted.

All he did was nod his head.

''You good?'' you couldn't help but ask at the way he was looking at you. You felt you own cheeks heat up as you gawked at his body that was riled with sweat.

''Yeah'' was all he said as he turned around and continued what he was doing.

You of course have had a lot of interaction with Lando - several interviews and social media videos which meant you'd spent quite a lot of time with him. Obviously, he was one hell of hot man, and yes, you looked, but you'd never touch. Your work was too important to get involved with any of the drivers. You'd also noticed him looking more often than not, but you never allowed your mind to go there.

As you stood there for a few minutes you couldn't help but feel bad for the guy. He'd had a shitty race - mclaren had fucked his strategy, once again, and he didn't get the win. So you totally understood why he was in the gym at the time - also trying to get rid of the adrenaline.

You dragged your feet to the treadmill and hopped on, setting a medium pace, trying to focus on something else and not the half naked man across the room.

After about 15 minutes you slowed your pace down a bit, grabbing your towel to wipe the sheet of sweat over your face and arms. As you walked over to do some weights, you looked ahead in the mirror and locked eyes with Lando. He was standing drinking his water, and you watched as his eyes left yours and shamelessly looked your body up and down again. To be fair - you were swearing the skimpiest gym clothes which left nothing to the imagination.

What you didn't know was that Lando had been eye fucking you the full 15 minutes you were running. He had wanted to be alone, let out his frustration, but that changed the minute he realized it was you who walked through the door. He licked his lips as he saw how your tights wrapped around your ass so perfectly, how your boobs were bouncing and threatening to spill out of your bra, how you back muscles flexed as you ran, and how sweat covered your body making you glisten under the lights. Lando had always found you attractive to say the least, and now he was painfully hard by just watching you workout. He wanted nothing more than to walk up to you and rip your clothes off, bend you over, and rail into you.

You tried your best to ignore him and focus on your task, so you sat on the bench and started brench pressing, heavy breaths leaving your mouth.

Suddenly, you saw Lando standing above you, staring down, and his own breathing just as heavy as yours.

Before you could react and say anything, he held onto the weights and pryed it out of your hands.

''Lan-'' you started, but he cut you off.

''Shh'' you said, before walking around and facing you as you sat up. He took a seat in front of you, legs on either side of the bench as yours were.

You swore you heart was beating out of your chest right now. He looked so heavenly. Bright green eyes, curls messy and sticking to his forehead. And not to mention his god-damn beautiful torso. Muscles taught and defined, with sweat dripping down, his own body shining in the lights.

''Eyes up here'' he said, smirking, catching you out for staring.

''Fuck'' you mumbled to yourself, before you looked up at him.

You felt as his hands found your waist and effortlessly slid you closer to him, and now your breaths were mingling, the heat in your body rising.

As you found yourselves in an apparent staring contest, Lando's hands started roaming your body He traced your arms up and down, your shoulders, you back, and your breath hitched as he suddenly slipped them under your sports bra, feeling up your boobs and fondling with them.

You closed your eyes and tried to calm your breathing, but that was impossible with the fact that he was sitting right in front of you and touching you. Now he was rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling at and tugging them, earning himself a moan from you.

''Lando'' you panted, needing more, almost grinding yourself on the bench.

''I know baby''

The nickname gave you goosebumps, and you couldn't help but open your eyes and smile at him.

Soon after, Lando tore your bra off of you, revealing your perky boobs. He lowered his head and latched his mouth onto your left nipple. Biting and sucking on it before using his tongue to sooth over.

Your hands found his hair and you pulled at his curls, edging him on, begging him some more. ''Lando, please'' you said, grinding down on the bench harder than before.

He lifted his head and crashed his lips to yours. It was eager and messy, tongues clashing and spit sliding down both yours and Lando's chin. He bit on your lower lip and you felt him slide his hands through your tights to grope at your ass. By now you were cupping his face, pulling him impossibly closer. While his one hand stayed on your ass, the other slid round to your front and cupped your cunt.

The action has you arching off the bench, breath increasing ever so much as he slid his fingers through your folds, which were soaking by now - something that didn't go unnoticed by him.

''Already dripping for me, love?'' he asked, voice thick and hoarse with his British accent.

''Uh huh'' was all you managed to say, biting your lips at the feeling of his calloused fingers rough against your clit, which he found rather quickly.

He captured your lips with his as he thrust two fingers through your entrance, the swift movement making you tremble in his arms.

''Ride my fingers y/n'' he said between breaths.

And so you did, you rode his fingers hard and fast, and just as he curled them at just the right time, feeling you soft cushiony spot inside of you, you felt a warmth begin to build in your stomach.

No word spoken and Lando added a third finger, sending you trembling over the edge as you latched onto his shoulder for support to ride you through your orgasm.

He slowed his fingers, eyes never leaving yours, before pulling them out and shamelessly licking them clean of you cum, moaning at the taste.

''Hmm, so fucking delicious'''he said, smirking, as you watched, mouth agape.

''Lando please'' you panted. ''Need to feel you in me'' you said, looking at him with longing eyes.

When you looked at him again, his whole demeanor changed. His eyes became ridiculously darker and the emotion he wore on his face was a mix of sudden anger and frustration.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he man handled you to lay down before he ripped your tights off of you and stood up to free himself of his constraints.

You watched as his hard cock bounced first then stood tall and angry.

''Fuck, he's big'' you thought to yourself as he placed himself between your legs.

Lando leaned down to kiss you as you took him in your hands and pumped him a few times, using your thumb to spread his pre cum around his tip.

The movement had him bucking forward, grunting into your mouth.

He pulled back and looked you in the eyes. ''You sure?'' he asked.

''Please. Please fuck me''

He lined himself up and wasted no time in slamming into you, bottoming out in one thrust.

''Shit'' you gasped. He was definitely the biggest you'd ever had, and the sting was intense. But this was Lando Norris, and you were determined to let him have his way with you.

He finally started moving, setting a pace that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your nails dug deep into his skin.

''So fucking tight, fuck y/n''

''Oh, Lando, yes, please, yes'' you cried out, unable to keep your moans at bay.

Lando continued to fuck into you while his mouth found your boobs and sucked hard at them, surely leaving purple bruises for tomorrow.

Within minutes you could feel your walls begin to clench around him, your orgasm approaching fast.

''Fuck, gonna cum Lan-'' you started but before you could finish he pulled out. You whined at him, an annoyed whine which you knew would edge him on further.

He scooped you up with such an ease, and suddenly you were flipped over and on your tummy, Lando sliding into your cunt with force again.

He bunched up your hair and pulled it tight, earning pornographic moans from your mouth straight to his ear.

''Can't win a fucking race but at least I got you begging for me'' he said through bated breaths, finally railing you the way he wanted from when you first walked in.

''Fuck Lando, you won. You won for me'' you moaned. You didn't care what the outcome of the actual race was - in your eyes, he was always a winner.

''Doing so well for me babygirl. That's tight.''

This time your orgasm gave you no warning. Hearing him call you babygirl pushed you over the edge, your body shuddering underneath him and your juices spluttering all over.

You moaned his name as you came, and if anything, he sped up his movements briefly before sliding out of you again.

This time he sat facing the mirror and pulled you up to sit down his lap, facing the mirror as well.

You immediately sank down on his now throbbing dick, setting a harsh pace as his hand snaked its way around you and settled on your throat.

''Want you to watch yourself fuck me'' he roughly whispered in your ear.

You kept your eyes on each other while you rode him, Lando's occasionally dropping down to watch how your boobs bounced up and down with each thrust.

''Fuck'' you hissed as you felt another orgasm approaching.

''Fucking me so good baby, go on. Be my slut'' he urged you to carry on.

Your movements were becoming sloppier, unable to hold yourself up and able to continue to thrust so Lando had to take matters into his own hands.

He was now fucking into you again, but at a relentless pace, clearly chasing his own orgasm as well.

''Together, yeah?'' he asked, his hand sliding down to toy at your clit.

You couldn't hold it in anymore. ''Fuck, Lando, now. I need to cum'' you said, as you felt his cock twitching inside of you.

The room now filled with grunts and moans, swear words flying everywhere as you both reached your climax, juices spilling out of you like the end of the worlds. Lando made sure to empty his load painting your walls white with his warm splutter.

You sank back down on him, letting your weight fall back leaning on him.

You locked eyes in the mirror again, both trying to catch your breaths, sweat dripping down the both of you.

Now that he got his release, Lando couldn't help but feel ashamed at the fact that he used you. Although this was the best sex he'd had in a long time, he felt he needed to apologize, and hope he hadn't fucked up a chance at anything more.

You could feel him softening inside of you, but neither made any attempt to move.

''Lan-''

''Wait. Fuck. I'm sorry if I was too rough'' he said, shyly.

''What?''

''I'm sorry i called you a slut. It was a complement, actually. I just had all this adrenaline from the race. And you were there. And...Fuck, i couldn't help myself'' he was rambling.

''Lando stop.'' you said firmer than you intended to. ''I didn't say I didn't enjoy it. Did I?'' you asked.

He shook his head.

''Really, it was so fucking good, and I'm glad it was me. I'm glad you used me''

''I-What?''

''Yeah, think I needed it as much as you did'' you said.

He wrapped his arms around you holding you tighter.

''Well then I'm glad you walked through the door. Thank you'' he cooed.

You smiled at him and slowly got up, letting him slip out of you, when something dawned on you.

''You ripped my clothes, Lando! literally'' you shrieked, eyes wide and a chuckle filling the air.

He stood up and pecked your lips.

''Well then, you'll just have to come home with me'' he said, smirking, but throwing his t-shirt to you to wear.

As he watching you put it on, he couldn't help but notice the stickiness dripping out of you.

''Fuck'' he mumbled, more to himself.

''What?'' you asked, as you didn't even release he was still watching you.

He didn't say anything, instead he bent down and licked your core, collecting the mixture of both of your cum.

The action had your breath hitching, not expecting it at all. You held onto his head as he did what he did, before he stood back up and let the juice slide out of his mouth and into your, before he kissed you roughly again.

''So fucking hot. Round 2 at mines?'' he asked.

You just smiled and walked to the door, opening it while gesturing him to follow you out.

REMEMBER - requests are open!

[kngrose]

do you not write for ambessa 👉🏻👈🏻? cuz your sevika headcanons are *chef’s kiss*

ambessa general headcanons 𝜗𝜚

WARNINGS: 18+, sexual content, implied voyeurism, body worship, oral, slapping, spanking, dacryphilia, implied age gap, slave/master if you squint, wlw!

prayers have been answered ^^

SFW

Come, come. Let's talk about it.

I don't think Ambessa strikes anyone as a lovely kind of person. Yes, she is incredibly charismatic, and might even be the love-bombing type, but Ambessa seems to clearly reserve "love" for those closest to her. Well, her version of it anyway.

She won't just walk around with her heart on her shoulder, she's a warrior for hell's sake. And we're all familiar with her opinions on becoming weak at the hands of love.

If you've managed to genuinely catch Ambessa's interest-- not just for her personal gain or a quick fuck-- then you've got a headache coming your way. Like, a migraine.

I want to really emphasize the love bombing because regardless of whether Ambessa is aware of it or not, the relationship will feel this way for a long time. There's a pattern. She's affectionate one day; showering you with praises and soft kisses, sunrise to sunset. You'll have to want for nothing. Gifts and trips, all treated to you by hers truly. Wining and dining, a good fuck. And though all of this is displayed in private, you'll be enamored. Which is exactly what she wants you to be.

And then, she'll be cold and standoffish. Uncaring of your presence or too busy to be bothered. When Ambessa handles business, there's no such thing as making time for you. You'll just have to pacify yourself until she's ready to be bothered with you again.

It'll take you a while to realize, but when you do you can't miss it; she's got an avoidant attachment. She wants to love you and to be loved, but the moment she receives it she's pulling away. She's looking for flaws in you, anything that'll convince herself that you're bad for her, to leave you where she found you.

Constantly creating exit strategies, thinking of petty little arguments to start for no reason, or an insecurity of yours to pick at. She was trained to fight, it's her strong suit in any sense. It's always easier for her to disconnect and dismiss her feelings than to just sit and talk it out. And you'll want nothing to do with her, which is also what she wants.

She just be losing the plot, I fear.

Unfortunately, cycles like this take time to break. Fortunately, she's not going to let you leave! So you have all the time in the world! <3

When you bring this to her knowledge, you'll really have to bring it. Sit her down and let her know she's not moving until she's heard every word that leaves your mouth, wagging a painted finger in her face. And she'll humor you because you've managed to make an impression with her.

She will sit, patiently and leisurely, man spread and all, watching you fuss her out throwing your hands every which way and yelling. And she will have the softest, fondest smile on her face. She'll know you love her at this moment.

She will let you say your piece without interruptions. In fact, she's so quiet that you have to question if she's even listening a few times. And when you catch sight of that little smile you just pause, dumbfounded. And she'll just humor your expression, urging you to continue with a curt wave of her hand.

After this occasion, Ambessa will be relentless. In her mind, anyone willing to fuss her out the way that you have must truly love her. So now, she knows no limits. In the past, Ambessa would have you stay put with some guards while she handled her day-to-day tasks. But now? You tag along with her everywhere.

In meetings, Ambessa has you perched on her lap. Touching you mindlessly as she discusses possible strategies and looks over speeches. Rubbing your thighs, your neck, your arms. You'll find it awkward at first--such a public display of affection-- but you'll have no choice but to get used to it.

She's hand-feeding you everything. Holding your cups to your lips, licking frosting off your mouth. It's a starch contrast to the dynamic your relationship used to have. But, you suppose you shouldn't be surprised at her shamelessness, she's always been a bit... eccentric.

And now, you don't even have to ask her to share her feelings, in fact, you have to tell her that some things are a little TMI because she wants to share everything with you. Everything. EVERYTHING.

Secrets don't exist, she's an open book. Whatever's on her mind, you're going to hear about it. Which in most cases, you can appreciate. She'll open up about her past and all of the things that have led her up to this point. She'll speak of her daughter, Mel, expressing a regret that she's never opened up to her about. And she'll talk about the effects you have on her personally.

These moments are heartwarming, cause it solidifies your bond.

Undoubtably, Ambessa is a very possessive woman. She's very adamant about expressing to everyone that you belong to her. Not necessarily in a verbal sense, but people will know. They'll know when they see the lingering touches she leaves, the elongated glances, the kisses. Again she's very shameless, so don't let these things take you by surprise.

She's also very protective. She does like to have you tag along with her everywhere, but every now and then she'll leave you with Rictus while she goes to handle more trying situations. You know, the ones where she may potentially commit a war crime or two.

She'd much rather you be locked away than have to protect you on the battlefield. Though she's positive you know of her capabilities, she wouldn't like to have you see her in that light regardless. She'll go to great, violent, bloody lengths to keep you safe.

Besides her shameless physical touch, Ambessa likes to show her love with flashy gifts and large bouquets of flowers. She likes to collect things from all the places she's been to gift to you; know that every time she's out, she thinks of what you might like to have.

She also likes to share knowledge. She finds that to be one of the biggest displays of love; sharing one's knowledge of the world and life. Things you can can learn from. She will really appreciate and admire the fact that you look up to her as a mentor, and especially loves it when you ask for her opinion or perspective. It shows that you rely on her.

And she likes to be relied on!

She has a tendency to just walk around naked, and not for any particular reason other than the fact that it’s, “Comfortable, sweet thing.” It doesn’t matter what time of the day it is, if she has leisure time to waste, she’ll be naked. And she likes to be watched; “I worked hard for this body, honey..” She’ll say, flexing her arms at you.

She takes great pride in her form and in her strength. She likes to lift you up randomly just to showcase it. She’ll always pick you up when she hugs you, gripping your thighs loosely or not at all. You could honestly just hang onto her, dropping all of your weight. It wouldn’t make a difference.

She never fails to fluster you at any given chance. Every time you’re having a conversation she’s holding the strongest eye contact, chuckling to herself when you avoid her gaze. She'll randomly grip your chin, or caress your face. Sometimes twirling the hair by your ears. She likes to see you get all flustered because of her. It genuinely makes her day. That's why she does it so much.

She's old! Lol, you'll have to keep her updated with the new slang and terms of endearment. If you're someone who incorporates a lot of slang into your vocabulary, you'll often receive sideways glances of confusion before she stares at you and mutters, "...What?"

NSFW

I’m going to say it again; she’s shameless.

She has no qualms. Like, at all.

She loves to put on a show. She loves to be ogled at, it strokes her— already large enough— ego. More often than not, she’ll shove you down onto the bed, and with a calculated slowness, she’ll begin to undress, maintaining eye contact with you throughout. Her eyes always smoldering with a mix of passion and a touch of dominance.

And she’ll study you closely for your reaction, loving the look of pure awe on your face as she stands nude before you. Her voice, a low and husky murmur, would echo through the room, "See something you like, my dear?" and she’ll hum in approval at the soft, “Yes, Ma’am” she receives in return.

Ambessa appreciates a well mannered slut.

Most times, Ambessa will request that you massage her, all over. She loves it; It fulfills her desire to be worshipped. She loves to watch you take your time and rub every part of her, smirking down at you as you get lower and lower.

Ambessa will lean back slightly, her expression transitioning into a devilish smirk. Her free hand slowly tracing a path along the contours of your body. She watches you like a hawk, a smirk ever present on her lips.

When you start to kiss down her body a contented sigh will escape her lips. She’ll run her fingers through your hair, gently but firmly guiding your movements. Her head will tilt back, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. Each touch, each kiss, draws out a low and guttural sound from her throat, her desire evident in the way her body responds to your ministrations.

And the hand in your hair will tighten as she shoves your face in between her legs, a knowing glint in her eyes, “You know what to do.” And her body tenses as you start to eat her pussy, the hand in your hair tightening almost painfully as she groans.

She requires eye contact; she wants you to watch her come undone on your mouth. It’s like a reward, no? Watching the effect you have on her. She wouldn’t want you to miss the way she leans her head back, her hips rutting against your tongue at a steady pace, glancing down at you as she murmurs, “Good girl.”

And she won’t miss the hand that you trail down to your pussy, toying with yourself impatiently. A leisurely chuckle will fall from her lips, “Patience, Darling.” She’ll always say, pulling your hair to angle your head just right so she can fuck your face better. “Patience.”

And soon her breathing will turn shallow, Ambessa's grip on your hair impossibly intensifying, her fingers tangling in your locks as she guides your movements. Her control momentarily slips as she succumbs to the pleasure you're giving her.

And when she cums? She’ll pull your head back playing idly with the mess on your face, “Tsk… now you’re all dirty,” She’ll mutter, before leaning down and licking it off your chin. She’ll meet your lips in a sloppy mess of a kiss, groaning softly at the taste. And when she pulls back she’ll admire the look on your face, taking a mental photo of it. “Pretty…”

I think Ambessa would have a thing for teasing you. She likes to put you in uncomfortable positions. Make you put yourself on display in risky places. Loves touching you under tables. It just warms her core to see you so flustered, really riles her up. Especially so if you start crying, she’ll just squeeze your cheeks in her hand and snicker at you, “Ohhhh, you poor thing,” She’ll chuckle, and peck your puckered lips.

I already mentioned that Ambessa loves it when you’re well-mannered, it’ll quite literally get you anything your heart desires. You ask her nicely to make up cum? She’ll do it in a heartbeat. “With my mouth, or with my hands?” She’ll raise a brow, “Or with something else?” You use your manners with Ambessa like a good girl and she’ll be at your beck and call.

Laying you on your stomach softly to pull your ass in the air and eating your pussy until you squirt all over her mouth, and she won’t let a drop go to waste. She’ll trail her thick tongue from your clit all the way to your ass and back, over and over and over, circling the hole playfully before spitting onto it, the spit trailing back down. It’s truly a beautiful sight, she thinks.

Do you want her to fuck you with her fingers? They’re thick. You’ll hardly need two of them to satiate that churning in your core. Perhaps you want a massage of your own? Want her to suck on your pretty feet? Maybe you want her to talk you through your orgasm and praise you softly in your ear while you cum on her fingers? Everything all at once? No request is too far for Ambessa. She likes to worship her pretty thing; and loves to appreciate your body. Especially when it’s well deserved.

But when you’re ill mannered? Ambessa will show you exactly how she became a warlord.

Don’t expect any pleasure from this outcome. It’ll be hard. It’ll be brutal. And you’ll wish you’d never mouthed off at her the way you did. “What did we learn?” She’ll growl, above you, slapping your ass with a powerful force, “Quickly.” She’ll order.

And she’ll hum as you blubber loudly about being respectful, but her abuse will not stop. She will continue to keep you over her knee, slapping at your ass and thighs relentlessly. And when she’s done with that? She’ll have you on your knees, facing up at her with your hands folded politely over your lap. And you’d better pay extra attention to your posture or she’ll punish you for that too.

You’re never prepared for the swat to your cheek. “What are we not doing in the future?” She won’t falter at the cry that leaves your mouth, her gaze stone-cold and unwavering. She’ll swat your cheek again, slap, “I said, quickly.” And again, she won’t be moved by your blubbering until she’s satisfied-- until she believes you’ve learned a lesson.

And she’ll always be sure to pacify you until you’ve calmed down, offering you water and comfort, but still being stern enough that you remember your place the next time around. She’ll be sure to build you up just as she’s broken you down, affirming you gently. And you’ll fall back into her, blubbering your apologies.

She’ll conceal a smirk.

She loves to see you cry.

please let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist to be notified everytime i post, xx

taglist: @opropheticsoul

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Antiusurpation and the road to disenshittification

THIS WEEKEND (November 8-10), I'll be in TUCSON, AZ: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

Nineties kids had a good reason to be excited about the internet's promise of disintermediation: the gatekeepers who controlled our access to culture, politics, and opportunity were crooked as hell, and besides, they sucked.

For a second there, we really did get a lot of disintermediation, which created a big, weird, diverse pluralistic space for all kinds of voices, ideas, identities, hobbies, businesses and movements. Lots of these were either deeply objectionable or really stupid, or both, but there was also so much cool stuff on the old, good internet.

Then, after about ten seconds of sheer joy, we got all-new gatekeepers, who were at least as bad, and even more powerful, than the old ones. The net became Tom Eastman's "Five giant websites, each filled with screenshots of the other four." Culture, politics, finance, news, and especially power have been gathered into the hands of unaccountable, greedy, and often cruel intermediaries.

Oh, also, we had an election.

This isn't an election post. I have many thoughts about the election, but they're still these big, unformed blobs of anger, fear and sorrow. Experience teaches me that the only way to get past this is to just let all that bad stuff sit for a while and offgas its most noxious compounds, so that I can handle it safely and figure out what to do with it.

While I wait that out, I'm just getting the job done. Chop wood, carry water. I've got a book to write, Enshittification, for Farar, Straus, Giroux's MCD Books, and it's very nearly done:

https://twitter.com/search?q=from%3Adoctorow+%23dailywords&src=typed_query&f=live

Compartmentalizing my anxieties and plowing that energy into productive work isn't necessarily the healthiest coping strategy, but it's not the worst, either. It's how I wrote nine books during the covid lockdowns.

And sometimes, when you're not staring directly at something, you get past the tunnel vision that makes it impossible to see its edges, fracture lines, and weak points.

So I'm working on the book. It's a book about platforms, because enshittification is a phenomenon that is most visible and toxic on platforms. Platforms are intermediaries, who connect buyers and sellers, creators and audiences, workers and employers, politicians and voters, activists and crowds, as well as families, communities, and would-be romantic partners.

There's a reason we keep reinventing these intermediaries: they're useful. Like, it's technically possible for a writer to also be their own editor, printer, distributor, promoter and sales-force:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#intermediation

But without middlemen, those are the only writers we'll get. The set of all writers who have something to say that I want to read is much larger than the set of all writers who are capable of running their own publishing operation.

The problem isn't middlemen: the problem is powerful middlemen. When an intermediary gets powerful enough to usurp the relationship between the parties on either side of the transaction, everything turns to shit:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/direct-the-problem-of-middlemen/

A dating service that faces pressure from competition, regulation, interoperability and a committed workforce will try as hard as it can to help you find Your Person. A dating service that buys up all its competitors, cows its workforce, captures its regulators and harnesses IP law to block interoperators will redesign its service so that you keep paying forever, and never find love:

https://www.npr.org/sections/money/2024/02/13/1228749143/the-dating-app-paradox-why-dating-apps-may-be-worse-than-ever

Multiply this a millionfold, in every sector of our complex, high-tech world where we necessarily rely on skilled intermediaries to handle technical aspects of our lives that we can't – or shouldn't – manage ourselves. That world is beholden to predators who screw us and screw us and screw us, jacking up our rents:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/yes-there-are-antitrust-voters-in

Cranking up the price of food:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy

And everything else:

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

(Maybe this is a post about the election after all?)

The difference between a helpmeet and a parasite is power. If we want to enjoy the benefits of intermediaries without the risks, we need policies that keep middlemen weak. That's the opposite of the system we have now.

Take interoperability and IP law. Interoperability (basically, plugging new things into existing things) is a really powerful check against powerful middlemen. If you rely on an ad-exchange to fund your newsgathering and they start ripping you off, then an interoperable system that lets you use a different exchange will not only end the rip off – it'll make it less likely to happen in the first place because the ad-tech platform will be afraid of losing your business:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-shatter-ad-tech

Interoperability means that when a printer company gouges you on ink, you can buy cheap third party ink cartridges and escape their grasp forever:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Interoperability means that when Amazon rips off audiobook authors to the tune of $100m, those authors can pull their books from Amazon and sell them elsewhere and know that their listeners can move their libraries over to a different app:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/07/audible-exclusive/#audiblegate

But interoperability has been in retreat for 40 years, as IP law has expanded to criminalize otherwise normal activities, so that middlemen can use IP rights to protect themselves from their end-users and business customers:

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

That's what I mean when I say that "IP" is "any law that lets a business reach beyond its own walls and control the actions of its customers, competitors and critics."

For example, there's a pernicious law 1998 US law that I write about all the time, Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, the "anticircumvention law." This is a law that felonizes tampering with copyright locks, even if you are the creator of the undelying work.

So Amazon – the owner of the monopoly audiobook platform Audible – puts a mandatory copyright lock around every audiobook they sell. I, as an author who writes, finances and narrates the audiobook, can't provide you, my customer, with a tool to remove that lock. If I do so, I face criminal sanctions: a five year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine for a first offense:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

In other words: if I let you take my own copyrighted work out of Amazon's app, I commit a felony, with penalties that are far stiffer than the penalties you would face if you were to simply pirate that audiobook. The penalties for you shoplifting the audiobook on CD at a truck-stop are lower than the penalties the author and publisher of the book would face if they simply gave you a tool to de-Amazon the file. Indeed, even if you hijacked the truck that delivered the CDs, you'd probably be looking at a shorter sentence.

This is a law that is purpose-built to encourage intermediaries to usurp the relationship between buyers and sellers, creators and audiences. It's a charter for parasitism and predation.

But as bad as that is, there's another aspect of DMCA 1201 that's even worse: the exemptions process.

You might have read recently about the Copyright Office "freeing the McFlurry" by granting a DMCA 1201 exemption for companies that want to reverse-engineer the error-codes from McDonald's finicky, unreliable frozen custard machines:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/28/mcbroken/#my-milkshake-brings-all-the-lawyers-to-the-yard

Under DMCA 1201, the Copyright Office hears petitions for these exemptions every three years. If they judge that anticircumvention law is interfering with some legitimate activity, the statute empowers them to grant an exemption.

When the DMCA passed in 1998 (and when the US Trade Rep pressured other world governments into passing nearly identical laws in the decades that followed), this exemptions process was billed as a "pressure valve" that would prevent abuses of anticircumvention law.

But this was a cynical trick. The way the law is structured, the Copyright Office can only grant "use" exemptions, but not "tools" exemptions. So if you are granted the right to move Audible audiobooks into a third-party app, you are personally required to figure out how to do that. You have to dump the machine code of the Audible app, decompile it, scan it for vulnerabilities, and bootstrap your own jailbreaking program to take Audible wrapper off the file.

No one is allowed to help you with this. You aren't allowed to discuss any of this publicly, or share a tool that you make with anyone else. Doing any of this is a potential felony.

In other words, DMCA 1201 gives intermediaries power over you, but bans you from asking an intermediary to help you escape another abusive middleman.

This is the exact opposite of how intermediary law should work. We should have rules that ban intermediaries from exercising undue power over the parties they serve, and we should have rules empowering intermediaries to erode the advantage of powerful intermediaries.

The fact that the Copyright Office grants you an exemption to anticircumvention law means nothing unless you can delegate that right to an intermediary who can exercise it on your behalf.

A world without publishing intermediaries is one in which the only writers who thrive are the ones capable of being publishers, too, and that's a tiny fraction of all the writers with something to say.

A world without interoperability intermediaries is one in which the only platform users who thrive are also skilled reverse-engineering ninja hackers – and that's an infinitesimal fraction of the platform users who would benefit from interoperabilty.

Let this be your north star in evaluating platform regulation proposals. Platform regulation should weaken intermediaries' powers over their users, and strengthen their power over other middlemen.

Put in this light, it's easy to see why the ill-informed calls to abolish Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act (which makes platform users, not platforms, responsible for most unlawful speech) are so misguided:

https://www.techdirt.com/2020/06/23/hello-youve-been-referred-here-because-youre-wrong-about-section-230-communications-decency-act/

If we require platforms to surveil all user speech and block anything that might violate any law, we give the largest, most powerful platforms a permanent advantage over smaller, better platforms, run by co-ops, hobbyists, nonprofits local governments, and startups. The big platforms have the capital to rig up massive, automated surveillance and censorship systems, and the only alternatives that can spring up have to be just as big and powerful as the Big Tech platforms we're so desperate to escape:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/23/evacuate-the-platforms/#let-the-platforms-burn

This is especially grave given the current political current, where fascist politicians are threatening platforms with brutal punishments for failing to censor disfavored political views.

Anyone who tells you that "it's only censorship when the government does it" is badly confused. It's only a First Amendment violation when the government does it, sure – but censorship has always relied on intermediaries. From the Inquisition to the Comics Code, government censors were only able to do their jobs because powerful middlemen, fearing state punishments, blocked anything that might cross the line, censoring far beyond the material actually prohibited by the law:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#hugos

We live in a world of powerful, corrupt middlemen. From payments to real-estate, from job-search to romance, there's a legion of parasites masquerading as helpmeets, burying their greedy mouthparts into our tender flesh:

https://www.capitalisnt.com/episodes/visas-hidden-tax-on-americans

But intermediaries aren't the problem. You shouldn't have to stand up your own payment processor, or learn the ins and outs of real-estate law, or start your own single's bar. The problem is power, not intermediation.

As we set out to build a new, good internet (with a lot less help from the US government than seemed likely as recently as last week), let's remember that lesson: the point isn't disintermediation, it's weak intermediation.

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/2024/11/07/usurpers-helpmeets/#disreintermediation

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

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en (Image: Cryteria, CC BY 3.0, modified)

[madelynn-sienna]

coney island p. I (max verstappen x reader)

[ navigation / requests / guidelines ]

･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ

★ prompt: ❛❛ what's a lifetime of achievement? if I pushed you to the edge? ❜❜ ★ pairing : max verstappen x reader ★ face claim : lily collins (+ one picture of kelly piquet and margot robbie each) ★ genres : angst ★ a/n : this will be a two-part hurt/comfort story inspired by the song coney island. be rest assured while this half is quite sad, the second half will make up for the angst and we will get a happy max x yn ending! also, per some creative liberty i took, max is only 23 years old here (he started racing in 2019, won his first gp in 2021 and was in school with the reader before he dropped out to pursue racing full time). ★ feedback and requests are always appreciated!

･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ

liked by yourinstagram, redbullracing, landonorris and others

maxverstappen simply lovely race 🏆 what an amazing weekend and victory in jeddah, thank you all for your incredible support 🇸🇦

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yourinstagram another fabulous performance #mv01 🔥🔥🔥

redbullracing incredibly strong race today, a 1-2 finish is all we could have asked for 💙

user1 tu tu tu du max verstappen! user2 fastest pit stop too.

yourinstagram made me so proud max, ik houd van je 💕

maxverstappen ik hou ook van jou mijn liefste ❤️ user3 they said they loved each other in dutch. user4 he also called her 'his sweetheart' 🥹 user5 max and yn are literally the it couple on the circuit rn. user6 right? three time world champion and a bestselling author. user7 they so need to make a movie about it. user8 or a book, imagine a twisted lies style drama 😭

ruthbuscombe the strategy 💯

landonorris congrats mate!

maxverstappen thanks. user9 we're waiting for a win from you too lando! user10 this aged well haha

schecoperez ¡bien hecho!

user11 presenting our four time world champion everyone!

user12 we're only on the second race of the season 😭 user13 i mean if last year's anything to by, that's enough.

･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ

text exchanges between yn & max dated 23/07, 02/08 and 04/08.

･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ

liked by yourbestfriend1, lilymhe, francisca.cgomes and others

yourinstagram it's supposed to be fun, turning twenty-one...

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user1 faster than the flying dutchman?

user2 yoo-hoo, @.maxverstappen where are you? user3 right? like he's usually the first one here...

carmenmmmundt happy birthday🥂

danielricciardo happy 21 yn 🍾

user4 why isn't max in the pictures?

user5 he's been busy with the belgian gp! user6 dude, that finished on sunday — it's the next saturday. user7 he's prolly just really stressed, he hasn't won since canada. user8 yeah, but yn through him a massive party last year. user9 so? circumstances were different... she isn't busy 24/7. user10 she literally has a job.

alexandrasaintmleux belle fille❣️

charlesleclerc joyeux anniversaire 🎉

user11 that caption's giving me bad vibes...

user12 me too! user13 its from all too well, that's such a sad song 😭 user14 i wonder why she chose it? user15 this better not be a sign.

user16 seriously? where is max, it's been 24 hours...

user17 check their stories, they're like done done. user18 nooooooooo😭 user19 she gave so many signs...

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･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ

yourinstagram added to their story. maxverstappen added to their story.

･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ

liked by charlesleclerc, redbullracing, landonorris and others

maxverstappen 5 wins in 5 races - thank you for your support in monza, baku, singapore, texas and sao paulo. you've made me happier than you know, happier than i've ever been before.

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user1 he really do be out here pretending he didn't break yn's heart.

user2 of course, he needs to maintain his bravado. user3 otherwise people, and he will realise, he messed up. user4 i can't believe he's trying to snub our girl yn.

This post no longer exists.

･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ

･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ

liked by visacashapprb, schecoperez, maxverstappen and others

redbullracing max verstappen wins the world drivers championship 2024, after an outstanding race at the las vegas street circuit that leaves him at with a 62 point lead in the standings ❤️ 💛 💙

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user1 max, max, max, super max, max

user2 tu tu tu du max verstappen user3 i called it! i said he'd win the wdc back in jeddah 🏆

user4 were you standing in the hallway with a big cake? happy birthday.

user5 of course, he just painted yn's bluest skies the darkest grey. user6 you are getting pressed for a breakup you know zero about! user7 max literally said it in his interviews and his statement. user8 they broke up because he was too busy. user9 ergo, he wasn't there for her, not even on her birthday!

lewishamilton amazing work - congratulations max

user10 what a goat ❤️

danielricciardo maaaax verstappennnnn! four time world champion.

user11 why'd I read that like pierrreeee gaslyyyyy? user12 me too😭 daniel's an icon.

fernandoalonso ¡muchas felicidades!

user13 real question here is, what's a lifetime of achievement?

user14 especially when he pushed her to the edge. user15 right like did you see her in miami, she looked so sad😭 user16 we all know she was just too nice too leave. user17 i'd have dumped his ass ages ago.

user17 definition of a LEGEND

･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ

liked by f1wags, yourinstagram, aston martin and others

f1 🚩 Red flag in the Abu Dhabi as Max Verstappen suffers a huge crash. The medical rescue team is currently trying to get the Red Bull driver away the resultant debris and fire as safely as possible.

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[csuitebitches]

Things I Have to do for My Sanity

1. Wake up at the first alarm - no snoozing and no going lying around in bed. Getting up straight away and head to the bathroom. It’s going to suck initially but you’ll get used to it in a few days.

2. Mental self care: 30 minute meditation, brain games mental math, reading, news. Knowledge is sexy and don’t deny yourself sexiness.

3. Daily review in my diary at the beginning and end of my day: what went well, what didn’t, what I need to accomplish to achieve my goals. This has tremendously helped my goals and keeping my motivation more consistent, especially at work. Analysing and correcting incremental changes creates long term success.

4. Cleaning up before bed - clothes, shoes, organising my bag, etc. I set a timer for 5 minutes and try to get as much done as possible.

5. Pick out my clothes the night before and steam iron them for the next day.

6. Face masks twice a week, a hair mask once a week, I scrub the soles of my feet with that foot scrubbing thingy once a week. Manicures every month because my nail beds are too sensitive to do it biweekly, iron supplements so that I’m not a moody bitch. Matching underwear to feel good about myself. Lavender spray on my pillow before sleeping so that I don’t get weird dreams.

7. Reading biographies and autobiographies. My mentor had suggested this to me and it’s amazing how literally I don’t have a single original experience - everything I’ve felt or mistakes I’ve made have already been done by someone else.

I’m going to curate a list of business books that I feel that have helped me the most recently.

8. I write a short essay everyday in the language I’m currently learning. I also end my day by talking about my day for at least 2 minutes in that language and I record it in voice memos to keep a track of my progress. I want to be fluent to a level where I can think in this language.

✨

I don’t generally share a lot about my personal life - none of you know my name or where I’m based and I feel comfortable doing that. But I do want to start giving out more insights to what I’m doing personally in my career - the good, the bad, the ugly.

Being self aware and honest to myself has helped me improve a lot. I know that shame is my Achilles heel, so now I’m reading books to combat that. I’ve caved in and decided to try therapy for a bit to see if what I’m doing is useful or not. My first session is tomorrow. Staying disciplined was my initial hurdle but the systems I’ve set (waking up early + habit stacking) have helped me slowly overcome that.

Work side, I’ve started establishing myself publicly more. I don’t want to reveal too much about what I do exactly but the good news is that our biggest competitor has noticed my progress (a former employee of that company came to us for an interview and directly asked our top management about me). It’s been 4 months that I’ve been working here but I know that next year I really have to swing the bat and hit a home run. I’ve decided to work on the field more and less in the office to really understand people’s needs and create unique solutions.

The daily/weekly/quarterly diary is definitely credited to my recent wins. That’s the biggest change I’ve made in my routine and i can already see that it’s working well. I’m going to continue refining and implementing that method.

Recent work methods I’ve decided to start working on (I’m not required to do these but I do it for my growth):

1. I’ve started studying popular companies’ business and revenue models in detail. Everything is adoptable and adaptable, you just have to figure out how to tweak something for your company’s clients and needs. Now I’ve decided that I want to keep a track of our competitors, their business models, their owners names, pricing strategy, their target audience etc etc on an excel sheet so that I’m aware with what’s happening in the market. 

2. I’ve started making client profiles. Every time I meet a client, I note down their name, the company name, what they were like, anything specific they seemed to like or want, how much they had paid us for a service, what their paying capacity could be, etc. 

[karlachismylife]

Yeah, but what if you're a character in a game they like to play? A pre-existing townie in a life simulator that helps them reconnect with normal life outside deployment? The one they somehow always tend to romance in every savefile, courting you through the clumsy mechanics?

Soap would absolutely spam interactions, interrupting any of the tasks you are trying to do. What do you mean your relatonship progress starts going down after he chose "tell a flirty joke" twenty times in a row? Why are you falling out of the conversation and going to water your plants or play on the computer? Does he have to delete it out of the game for you to stop getting distracted? Hmph. If you were a real person, you would be already swooning at his jokes, that he knows for sure. C'mon, bonnie, don't leave the lot for work! If you accept his proposition to move in, you'll never need to work a day in your pixel life! He also has a fuckton of savefiles, because he wants to try every single thing the game has to offer, but turns out mastering all 158 skills and 73 careers isn't that easy in one go. He still goes after you in each and every savefile. What can he say? You're just the prettiest of them all.

Gaz has the strategy nailed down. He knows your pre-set preferences and makes sure his character caters to them (good thing you seem to be generally into him, all he needs to do is add your favourite colour to his outfit, and it suits hm too!), he can calculate the shortest route to have a romantic meter above your head in one conversation. Juggling the interactions with ease, never making the mistake to bore or upset you. He knows you'll have the best family tree in that game, and he'll make it happen. Also has quite a few savefiles, but only because he enjoys the storytelling aspect and always prepares some elaborate plot, filled with drama. Takes inspiration from the hundreds of episodes of different TV shows he manages to watch, also plays with mods to add as much flavour to the game as possible.

Price tries to court you like he would a real person. Inviting your character out, putting a lot of thought into which conversation theme choose out of what game offers, bringing you gifts. Unfortunately for him, the game isn't registering his actions as actually trying to woo you... so he just takes the gloves off and fucking cheats your relationship status. His in-game self needs a pretty partner to look after the pack of three dogs, named Ghost, Gaz and Soap respectively. He's not above cheating your babies (whether your character carries them or it's the science baby option) to be triplets. Only starts new savefiles when you both grow old and pass away in the previous one, maybe because he can't bring himself to live out your kids' lives (they should be their own little virtual people and decide for themselves), or maybe because he doesn't understand that he actually can keep playing even if his character's dead.

Ghost starts with adding himself to your family and setting your relationship status as spouses. Oh, you have some in-game pathetic weird looking prick as your pre-set partner/husband? Too bad, evicted, deleted from the game, forgotten. If he is in the mood, he won't straight up delete that poor bloke, but will set up a pool with no ladder and drown him in it or lock him in a separate room to starve. Nothing you should see, though, you'll be plenty busy drowning yourself, not in a pool, but in his affection. Doesn't spam interactions, but really enjoys just watching you go about your day and making it so that his character takes care of your needs - if you start to get hungry, he's already slamming the "call to meal" button on the giant ribs plate his in-game self just roasted. Probably has one savefile where he keeps cheating any death back.

Or are you a cute tamagochi pocket friend/pet they enjoy taking care of, because having a real pet is impossible with their lifestyle? An NPC with an everyday quest of collecting produce in a chill farm simulator? A weekly boss they lose fight to as much times as they can afford to, just to see your opening cutscene replay over and over? A companion whose personal quest they have memorized line by line, but never skip dialogue to hear your voice and look at every expression you make?

Whoever you are, what if one day something in your code changes and you suddenly start recognizing them?

[incorrectbatfam]

Superbat hcs?

They're constantly referring to each other as "colleagues" even after all this time

One time Bruce comes home brooding more than usual and when asked he's like "I got into a disagreement with someone at the office"

Or Clark triple-checking that his suit and tie look right because he doesn't wanna embarrass himself at a work dinner with Bruce

Clark randomly laughs in the middle of the day at the Daily Planet because of something his co-worker from his second job sent him (it was a picture of Ace)

Bruce randomly buys gifts for Clark for "networking purposes," like Belgian chocolate or a diamond watch band

When Clark is stressed over a deadline Bruce will talk him through it over the phone because that's what colleagues do for each other

When other people ask where they see themselves in 10 years they always mention wanting to be each other's "business partners"

They once shared the same bed at a hotel on a "business trip" because getting two different ones would "go over the budget"

After a particularly bad Justice League mission, Bruce and Clark go for a long stroll together to "regroup" and "think up a new strategy"

They also coordinate Wayne Enterprises and Daily Planet lunch breaks so Clark can fly over to Gotham with the pie that Ma specifically made for Bruce

The Justice League does a holiday gift swap and Diana rigs it so Bruce and Clark get each other, but it backfires on her when they keep separately coming to her for advice as they're panicking about picking the right present

Bruce saved Clark in his contacts as "Colleague <3" and claims the heart is to differentiate him from all the other JL members and WE employees

One time Dick asked Bruce where he was going and Bruce said it was another work meeting with Clark, and Dick was like, "A work meeting in a horse-drawn carriage through the park?" To which Bruce said it was being paid for by Wayne Enterprises and therefore was business-related

Their families got together on Kent Farm for a summer barbecue after they said they had some "big news" to share, which turned out to be the merger between Wayne Enterprises and the Daily Planet. More than one people were left disappointed but Bruce and Clark couldn't figure out why

Clark flies over to Gotham in the mornings to bring Bruce coffee from a place they both like in exchange for Alfred's breakfast pastries

When Bruce is in Metropolis, he sneaks into Clark's office and waits until Clark gets back

Wayne Enterprises branches into the jewelry industry and Bruce gets himself and Clark matching gold rings as part of the "product testing" procedure

On slow patrol nights, they'll meet up on a random rooftop and just talk because "regular updates are vital to business communication"

They practiced how to waltz with each other so they look good in front of others at an upcoming gala

The other heroes have a running bet on how long until they get together, and of course Diana is in the lead

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Hi Derrin! Have you talked much about your experience with publishing and the business-y stuff like that before? If so,,, any chance you can drop a link/reblog the relevant post?

Oh I am not the right person to ask about that. You'd be better off asking someone like @thebibliosphere if you're looking to go into indie/self-publishing, or maybe someone like @dduane for traditional publishing.

The thing you gotta understand about me is that I got into this by accident and I fundamentally do not know or understand what I'm doing. It was never my intention to publish my stories as books, they were not written or designed to be books. I write web serials. My primary income stream is not book sales, it's patreon/ko-fi support. For my web serials.

My stories exist as ebooks and in print for one reason and one reason only -- the readers asked for them. People were copy-pasting them into documents to convert to read on their ereaders, and asking my permission to print and hand bind them for their bookshelves. I print them to meet a demand, not to make money -- I do make money as a writer, but as I said, it's through ko-fi and patreon supporters, which is a fundamentally different income stream that requires fundamentally different strategies. I don't know much about printing or distribution, or price setting or storefronts, or basic book marketing, because that's not my industry, it's something I'm taking advantage of to create a product that the people supporting me via other means happen to also, incidentally, want.

If you're looking to get into self publishing as an industry, you'll want to talk to someone who makes that their career. Not me, I'm just fucking around and I'd give you incredibly bad advice.

[just-a-ghost00]

Advice on manifesting your desired reality

Group 1 🌸 Group 2 🌷 Group 3 🌼

Group 1 🌸 Oh I never meant to brag ~

Shufflemancy : Rollin Limp Bizkit, The Search NF, Misery Business Paramore

Cards : King of pentacles, 3 of pentacles, 8 of pentacles

With all this emphasis put on earth related cards the major theme here is grounding. You need to ground yourself in your current reality to be able to see it clearly. Another think I’m picking up on is consistency. You may have a hard time focusing on one task at a time or being consistent in your efforts. It is really important that you deal with that. You are encouraged to work in cooperation with people around you. Isolating yourself is not the best strategy for you at the moment. You are encouraged to rely on your community and exchange with others, especially when it comes to your career. Teamwork makes the dream work. You are encouraged to study, to rely on your mentors. Their could be a masculine figure around you that can provide constructive criticism and help you improve in the areas you are wishing to work on. Standing your ground and being in your grounded masculine energy will help you manifest your desired reality. That would be true especially if you have major earth placements in your chart. I’m mainly picking up on Taurus energy. There needs to be more balance in your energy exchanges with people and situations. If you are currently spending more time and energy in one area of your life you are asked to focus on other priorities to restore the balance. Also, be confident about yourself. Spirit is saying you need to put an end to that impostor syndrom or modesty. I feel like some of you do not allow yourself to be successful because of how others would perceive you. You’re afraid that people around you will not appreciate you being more successful than them so you maintain yourself in a position that does not suit you. Your guides want to warn you that dimming your light for others won’t make them love or respect you more. It is time that you express your true power and claim your throne.

Group 2 🌷 Do whatever we want oh we don’t give a…

Shufflemancy : Stray Kids SKZ, Galaxy Kid Travis, Eye on you Wonho

Cards : ace of pentacles, Chariot, 7 of swords

You are advised to keep your projects and ideas to yourself and move swiftly forward without a sound. Take the opportunities that come your way if it feels right to do so without giving notice to anyone around you until you make it. I am getting that many of you are often times deterred from doing something that would benefit them because of the pessimism of others. There are people around you that do not have your best interest at heart. These people might not realize it or some may be very well aware of what they’re doing. Under the disguise of wanting what’s best for you, they prevent you from moving forward and manifesting your desired reality. You have to move past their illusions and one way to do that is to keep your intentions a secret. In some cultures they say that the more you talk about what you plan to do the less you’re gonna act on it. Don’t be just all talk and instead let your actions speak for you. Get going. Write that book you always had in mind. Create that online shop, go to that dance class, buy those shoes you really wanted. Don’t deprive yourself of good things. Don’t second guess yourself. You know what to do. You have what it takes. You just need to get moving. Some of you are encouraged to start a physical activity to help you deal with possible mental health issues. It is time you stop self sabotaging and also it is time that you don’t let people’s negativity rub off on you.

Group 3 🌼 You take the pain, make it feel good

Shufflemancy : Bad habits Ed Sheeran, Middle finger Bohnes, Lil psycho Kid Travis

Cards : 7 of wands, The World, 3 of wands

There were a lot of eyes on these cards in the deck that I used. So that could be a sign to work on your vision and visualization skills. If you have psychic abilities, honing them will be beneficial to you. Try to get yourself out of the daily drama of others and rise above it all. You need to gain a higher perspective of what is going on around you. If you are currently surrounded by pessimistic/toxic people and things, get yourself out of the eye of the storm. Traveling could be needed. Turn your gaze on the future, not the past. Keep your focus on your expansion. Maybe find inspiration in other cultures, in people that are very different from you or that have already gotten out of the storm and try to learn from it. Don’t get into petty fights. Don’t mingle in people’s business. If they try to grad you in it set boundaries. You are encouraged to plan and script your next steps. If you resonate with scripting as a manifestation method then definitely do that regularly. Write your daily intentions, your daily gratitude list, write your letters to the Universe. Write your desired reality on a paper and cleanse it with sage or any other purifying herb. Keep that paper with you wherever you go. Don’t put it under your pillow. You don’t want to sleep on your dreams, do you? However, you can whisper your intentions and affirmations to your water and drink that water. The good vibrations of your words will then circulate in your body.

[qqueenofhades]

can you assuage my creeping fear about the debate between harris and trump? my brain is like. the media will be salivating over any chance to get the story HARRIS FLUBS THE DEBATE MORE AT 6 unless she's 100% perfect for it. i keep telling myself that she's an incredibly seasoned prosecutor who knows exactly what to do to unravel these sorts of people, she has plenty of time to prepare, he's completely gone over the edge into incoherence most of the time, but i also keep thinking of how, after weeks of her absolutely pile-driving the republican party, the media will be circling for any mistake, mis-step, or imperfection to blow out of proportion to make it seem like she's failing. i guess what i'm afraid of is the other shoe dropping? or the bubble bursting? i'm afraid of this hope?

i was barely aware of obama in 2008, too young to vote and not paying attention, so i don't know how this kind of momentum turned into the juggernaut that got him elected. i know you believe that the same can happen here, how did he take on the predatory press?

Well, first, we need to recognize that the media treatment of the debate WILL be wildly unfair, full stop. If Trump shows up and puts on pants, he will be applauded by the media, because they have the lowest imaginable bar where he is concerned and everything that would have been multiply-disqualifying for any other candidate makes them just shrug and find a way to make excuses for him. So yes, he will literally be congratulated if he shows up on September 10, because that is how the media works. See: three relentless weeks of bullying Biden out of the race after the bad debate, barely mentioning Trump's equally insane diatribes at the same debate, and now, when he's gone full-on demented and is raving about AI-generated crowds at Kamala's events? Nary a peep. Lol.

However, the main narrative that's emerging from the Harris takeover is that voters and the media are miles apart on where they actually see this race going, and without the media's favorite chew toy of Biden's shortcomings, it has become increasingly difficult to avoid focusing on Trump's flaws, even tangentially. See the mainstream media reporters whining constantly that Harris hasn't given them a press conference and congratulating Trump for lying to them nonstop for an hour; they simply have no frame of reference that's remotely useful, because they are so beholden to making Trump look like a normal candidate and focusing on Harris's "flaws" as if they are remotely comparable to his. But at the same time, there has been a far heightened level of pushback on this BS manipulation, and everybody can see through it, precisely because the media and/or the right-wing smear machine has tried this so many times before and their tactics are now completely transparent. Ordinary voters don't give a shit whether Harris WiLl tAkE qUesTioNs fRoM tHe mEdiA; they're too busy flooding her campaign with donations, attending her rallies, signing up for volunteer shifts, and so forth. In fact, the reason the media is trying SO HARD to kill her momentum is because they, like Trump, rely on doing so. The more they try and don't succeed, the more panicked they'll get. We have to prepare for that, and we have to have her back.

That said, we should recall that Harris easily crushed Pence in their debate in 2020, and Pence was actually halfway presentable at it compared to Trump (which is a low bar, but still). The way Trump "wins" is that he just repeats a lot of lies forcefully and over and over, which Biden was ill-prepared to counter because he has a far more deliberate and decisive speaking style (related to stutter/speech difficulties, temperament as a politician, etc). Everything that I have seen from the Harris campaign in terms of communication so far, however, has been the exact kind of clapback that makes Trump look stupid and which shows that they are very attuned to the kind of strategies that work against that nonsensical bullying Gish gallop. Therefore, I have to trust that they have INTENSIVELY studied what went wrong with Biden/Trump in June, and also empowered Kamala to do what she does in her fashion and which has been extremely successful thus far at knocking down Trump's BS. Also, she's just a better and more fluent communicator than Biden, she looks and sounds more energetic, and those stupid aesthetic Vibes are half of the battle when it comes to convincing the public.

Also, we should recognize that Trump looked deeply creepy on stage at the debates with HRC in 2016, and that was when he was downright sane compared to now. He stalked her, he stood behind her, he rolled his eyes, he bullied her, and people noticed that (he subsequently won the election, yes, but if nothing else, 2024 feels nothing like 2016). If he has to stand on stage with a black woman kicking his ass, after his appearance at the NABJ event in Chicago quickly became a touchstone for how badly he fucked it up, he is going to just look BAD, and when that's the case, people will immediately fit it into the existing narrative (that he's scared of Harris and deeply racist and unglued). You can also play your part in making sure it does. At least half of the Bidengate furor came from Democrats melting down and yelling about it afterward, and that led into the knives-out media coverage that spiraled for 3.5 weeks until Biden withdrew. We can, yknow, NOT DO THAT this time!

So: yeah. We have to be aware that yes, the media coverage of the debate will find absolutely every excuse to praise Trump and bash Harris, because that's just baked in. However, we can also understand that there's a wide-and-getting-wider CHASM between how ordinary voters see things right now and how the media is desperate to play it, and the more transparent they get, the more easily we are able to call it out. (See Lawrence O'Donnell's rant the other night.) We are going to have to keep doing that and not let up, but it's not going to go well for Trump either way and it's still an open question as to whether he even shows up after trying SO hard to dodge. It's not out of the question that he'll announce on September 4 that by Harris not showing up to the Fox debate she never agreed to and which exists only in his deluded mind, he doesn't have to do the same on September 10. He is a scared fucking orange chickenshit who KNOWS he's badly outmatched against Harris and whose entire campaign strategy at this point relies on lying low and trying not to make voters remember again how much they hate him, which is already backfiring. And with your help, we can make him MORE scared all the way to prison. Let's do it.

[bubblebbg]

would you be able to do a Miguel x f!reader where the reader is a civilian who's the sunshine to his grumpy? She's pretty much the definition of the quote "the violence it took to be this kind". She had an abusive childhood, and unfortunately she's currently up in an abusive relationship, she tries really hard to hide her pain with warmth and laughter, hiding her bruises with long sleeves in the summer and concealer.

This is my first request, I'm so happy! I wasn't really comfortable writing the physical abuse part (I don't want to misrepresent this issue) , so I've made it to where the reader is in an unhappy relationship instead. I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted. :)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞.

Miguel O'Hara x reader

To him, you're one of those people that deserves better, deserves the best. Today especially, that's what you should be getting. If Miguel could, he'd hand you worlds on a silver platter. But he can't. Not with your boyfriend around to stop him.

Part 2

"Your boyfriend is the biggest asshole I've ever met. Come on, you have to know this by now." Miguel has pulled you to the balcony of your apartment and away from the music and festivities, his jaw clenched with anger as he seethes. He's never liked your boyfriend; there's you, the sweet, kind woman who's always considerate, endlessly patient, practically saintly in nature. And then there's your boyfriend, some scum of the earth who's only ever been callous and cold during your interactions. Miguel has tried and tried and tried to keep his mouth shut about it, but the way your smile faltered as you explained that he couldn't take off work to be at your birthday party is his last straw. "Seriously, today of all day's he has to work? Say the word and I'm sending that douchebag flying through a wall-"

"Miguel, stop it. It's fine, he's just a busy guy you know? And I'm sure you throw enough people around already." You chuckle, but the sadness doesn't quite leave your eyes. You sip some of the champagne in your glass, sighing as you let the alcohol numb some of your senses. Looking out at the cityscape, arms folded on the railing. He really wishes you knew how much you deserve, and the selfish part of him wants to be the one to give that to you.

When you catch him staring at you, at the way the lights of the city glow on your face, he turns forward, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "I just don't get it is all. You could have anyone you wanted, why him? Hell, you're better off alone than with him. If I could make the decisions for you, he would've been gone a long time ago."

You step closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder, eyes closed and the champagne drained from your glass. "I know you're concerned about me, but in the end these decisions are mine to make. I'll talk to him after the party. Until then, how's everything at work? Still got a lot on your hands?"

A smile plays at his lips, feeling a bit warm from the touch. "Hey, don't go changing the subject on me. We need to talk about this."

"You change the subject on me all of the time! Humor me on my birthday, please." He rolls his eyes because he can't believe that you'd play the birthday card on him, but he also knows he can never say no to you. Not with the way you look at him. So he puts an arm around your shoulders and lets a breath out his nose.

"Still stressful, but not so bad. I guess your whole 'have meetings to help people with their mission strategy instead of just yelling at them' plan has been working." You laugh at that, eyes crinkling as you lean more into him. You look good like this, the cheery person you usually are, not the one being let down by their partner. "See? And how hard was that? If I had spider powers like you, I'd be the ultimate diplomatic leader and badass." He can't stop the laughter that bubbles up in his chest when you punch and kick the air to emphasize your badassery.

"Your form is terrible," he smirks, "You'd be dead in seconds."

"And if it weren't for me, every spider ever would have quit because of your nagging."

"Right, right, whatever makes you feel better, civilian."

This is how it's supposed to be, the way it was before you decided to date this guy. It was always you and Miguel before: him carrying all of your grocery bags as you raved about some new hobby, you and him on the roof of your apartment building, him pointing out flaws in a movie at the theater while you ate all the popcorn, him begrudgingly pushing you on a park swing despite his assertations that you were in fact too old to still do this. It hits him all at once. He's missed you. Your absence leaves gaps in his life that no one else can fill.

"Hey," he mumbles, "I know you said you didn't want any gifts, but I got you something. Happy birthday."

Your eyes widen as he timidly hands you a rectangular box, his gaze turned to the city and a light blush on his face. He watches through the corner of his eyes as you open it. Inside is a silver necklace with a lily-of-the-valley preserved in resin, the flower you told him about that grew around your childhood home. Your palm comes to cover your mouth and tears well up in your eyes at the considerate nature of his gift. (That's Miguel, always remembering the details of things you say. When was the last time your boyfriend did that again?) Miguel turns to face you with an anxious expression. "Do you not like it? I left the receipt in there, you can return it and use the money on-"

"No, no, no, it's beautiful," you smile, turning and lifting the hair from your neck, "Could you please put it on me?"

He sighs in relief, taking the necklace and clasping it gently around your neck. As soon as he's done you jump into his arms with a delighted giggle, beaming with joy. He lets himself hug you back for a few more seconds before setting you down. Seeing you like this has his heart racing as he's filled with the courage to say it, to tell you what you mean to him. He opens his mouth to speak and -

Someone shouts through the sliding doors of the balcony, "Hey, where have you been? Get inside, your boyfriend just got here!"

And just like that, the courage is gone, his mouth closing to a slight frown. As he's preparing to go back in and stomach the sight of you with that man, he sees you climbing the steps of the fire escape and stops at the door.

"What are you doing?"

You stop, turning to look at him with the breeze at your back and the moon shining on you. You offer your hand to him.

"Come on, let's go. We can sit on the rooftop like we used to."

He pauses, taking a look at the party inside. Then he takes your hand and you're leading him up like you used to, and everything that was out of place in him shifts back to fit. He smiles at how small and smooth your hand is in his larger, rough one. Yeah, he thinks.

This is how it's meant to be.

[formulaforza]

💐 hi my wonderful birthday girl !! so i was thinking about a dress coded lewis blurb (because i was born a lewis and ts girl) where they just get drunk together and there’s teases flying and stuff. keep it as brief as u wish <333

—you can take it off

lewis hamilton x merc!reader summ. thank you stephy i love u bad <3 inspo from... ur never gonna believe it... this. hope it's up to your standards my love. 2.7k (kind of got out of hand)

You were half-asleep and half-drunk the night of the Belgium Grand Prix. The air was cool, recycled like all air seems to be in hotels, smelled of too-strong perfume and was filled with the dull noise of elevator jazz. What had begun as a before-we-go-to-bed night cap in the hotel bar with Bono had turned into a seemingly never ending addition of guests. 

Valtteri was first to join—never could pass up the opportunity to give you shit, to offer you job postings at Alfa Romeo that weren’t job postings at all—and with him around, there’s no casual drinking. You don’t try to keep up, not really, because you know you don’t stand a chance, but also because he would never let you. After all these years of being just a few months younger than him, he still calls you kiddo, still promises to call your parents when you’re out after dark, and always sends you a text after a race with some… questionable strategy decisions you’re catching flack for online. 

A brief appearance from Toto and Susie, just long enough for them to know they had no business trying to go drink for drink with Valtteri, and then they’re wishing all three of you a wonderful summer break and retreating to whatever room is considered prestige enough for Motorsport’s it-couple. 

And then there was Lewis, the last to arrive, who never called you kid, who never viewed you as one. He sits adjacent you in the red, high back leather booth and takes up a seat and a half, the toe of his shoe brushing against the side of yours, flashing you apologetic puppy dog eyes every time he bumps against yours. 

It’s somewhere between drink number five and six that Lewis gets his first, insists on a toast to the summer break that officially began… six hours and fifty-three minutes ago. For a long season this and a too-short summer break that, you lot had a mouthful of things to complain about, but a million more to be grateful for. “To not having work for a month,” Lewis proposes, clinking his glass against yours, offering a quick wink and holding it up properly over the table. 

“To no racing-talk for a few weeks,” Bono adds, clinking his glass against Lewis’. 

“To summer-fucking-break,” Valtteri chimes in, laughing at himself before the rest of you get the chance to match it. 

“To summer fucking break,” you repeat because you know there’s no better way to sum it all up. 

Unlike the other two, you slowed down when Lewis joined, wanted to give him time to catch up, to give yourself time to meet him somewhere in the middle. A glass of water and a virgin rum and coke and another water and the night is still young. 

“First summer break as the big boss, kiddo,” Valtteri remarks, and you have to squint to hear him through the alcohol-induced thickening of his accent. 

“That’s right!” Bono laughs. Your cheeks run hot at their mention of your title, of your promotion following James’ departure earlier in the season. Lewis smiles against the rim of his glass, bumps his foot against yours and doesn’t give you apologetic eyes. No, he raises his brows so slightly you think you’re the only one that notices, which is probably exactly the way he intended it to be. “Little miss queen of strategy is making the big money now, got any big travel plans?”

Lewis clears his throat, and your eyes dart over to his almost instinctively. “You’re staying in London, yeah?”

He’s right. Your summer-break plans consist of four weeks of trying to remember what it feels like to do nothing, failing at that task pathetically, and spending the rest of the time meticulously picking apart every call you’ve made all season and imagining the million and one things you could’ve done differently and their billion and two outcomes. 

You pick apart the drink napkin, tear it into tiny little pieces. “Yeah, yeah. Just staying home, catching up with friends and family,” you clarify, try not to sound as pathetic as you feel. It’s hard not to when you’re sitting next to the guy who spends his offseason snowboarding in Antarctica with his celebrity friends and his weeks off traveling to Paris fashion week for front row seats next to supermodels. Anything you say would sound pathetic to someone who makes thirty-five million a year. 

“I love it,” he nods, stares right through you and into your soul so you know he’s being genuine. “That’s awesome.”

You nod, swallow hard, purposely angle your body away from his, to the rest of the group. “What about you guys?”

Lewis laughs, soft, quiet, completely under his breath. The kind of laugh that deserves to be bottled into a jar and kept on a shelf for safe keeping. You know he’s always laughed like that, even before he knew you, but in the last few months it just feels different. Good different, like he’s laughing just for you now instead of everyone else too. 

You know you’re crazy, that he’s just Lewis being Lewis and you’re just single for the first time in a long time and also drunk. Not half drunk anymore, just drunk—even if you do think you’re meeting him in the middle, you’re not. He’s just chasing after. 

“Back home, too,” Bono concludes. “Take a breather, might head up to the country with the family.”

“You’ll take pictures, yeah?” Lewis asks, starts to pick up the pieces of your napkin tear pile and move them in front of him like a kid who isn’t patient enough to share or destructive enough to rip up his own. You watch in your peripheral, the way he fiddles with the wet paper, gets it stuck to his fingertips. You can’t laugh, so you don’t, but you want to. You think he knows you want to. 

Bono scoffs, nods while swallowing a sip of his drink—something dark, something pungent. Not what you would have pegged him for ordering, even after knowing him as long as you have. “So I can compare with the likes of you lot and,” he turns to Lewis, leers around you to emphasize the eyeline, “your million dollar vacations or,” and then the other way, back to Valtteri, “your olympic cycling events?”

Valtteri smiles, swirls his drink—gin, you think. Expensive. “Yes.”

“No chance.”

“I’ll be sure to send you a picture of me having a meltdown when I think about our side pods from the beginning of the year,” you chime in, because it’s not like they all don’t know you well enough to know exactly what you mean by spending time with friends and family at home.

 “What sidepods?” Lewis chuckles.

“Fucking exactly,” you add, mirror his mannerisms without even realizing it, all the way down to readjusting in your seat when you’ve had your laugh. 

“Could be worse,” Bono offers. “Could be last year.”

Lewis nods, holds his drink up in the direction of Valtteri across the table. “We never should have let you leave.”

He smiles, weak, lips  pursed. “I could have told you that.”

The night continues on, all drinks and laughs and yawns, occasional remarks that it’s about time I head up, followed by another round, another joke, another comment about this, that, or the other thing. 

You’ve always liked Lewis when he’s a little tipsy. He lightens up a bit, you can actually watch the stress drip from him like sweat, all the titles and the wins and the losses, they all just fall away when he’s relaxed like this. You’ve always liked him like this. Always. Before he was king of the world and before he was the prodigal son and every moment in between. 

After every joke he makes—or, after every comment he makes that he thinks could be considered a joke—you find yourself laughing, because it’s Lewis and you have a crush on him and of course you do. And, without fail, everytime you laugh, he winks, like you’re in on some inside joke even though he’s making it to the whole table, like there’s some double meaning to all of his words that are meant just for you, just for the two of you to understand. 

Somewhere in it all, it comes back to Lewis, because, well, it always does. “Is your back still bothering you?” Bono asks, and you think you already know the answer. You think you know, because you can’t remember the last time you;d seen him take careful consideration of his posture when he sits. Not even now is he sitting up straight, with his legs perfectly spread a shoulder’s width apart and his feet flat on the floor. Instead, he’s taking up more room than he needs to, all relaxed and comfortable on the leather booth bench. 

He swipes his thumb over the  condensation of his glass, looking up from the action at you, and then to Bono. “No, no. All good there.”

“All good?” Bono prods, because he was on the receiving end of a year and a half of complaints from Lewis.

Lewis nods, clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “No Paracetamol in a month.”

Across the table, Valterri chimes in. “None?” 

“None for my back,” Lewis says, and the whole table laughs. You just watch him, though, because who laughs better than he does? You could wax poetic about it without a second thought, the way that his lips upturn and his cheeks round and his eyes crinkle and go soft in a way that makes you feel like you’re the funniest person in the world even when you’re not making a joke. The way that his smile is brighter than anyone’s you’ve ever seen, and the way that if you look at it for too long, you think about how it would feel to run your finger along the gap in his teeth. 

“That’s what I thought,” Valtteri mutters off the end of his laugh. “You're getting old.”

“Not too old to make half a million.”

The entire table’s heads fly to him. You gasp, an embarrassingly wide smile on your face. “You didn’t!” You almost yell, smacking his upper arm with a weak hand. 

He mocks your gasp, makes it somehow more dramatic and over the top and laughs sweetly, shrugging your hand off his arm and letting his hand fall to your leg, bumping your foot with his again. “I didn’t.” The table chuckles, you pout, and then you realize that his hand is on your thigh, that it’s staying there quite comfortably, and that you mind it less than he does. 

“Don’t be a tease,” you sigh, take a swig of your drink. Your knees are suddenly weak, like you know you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you wanted to. It’s like he can sense your change but can’t quite read it, because then he’s moving his hand back to his own lap, interlocking it with the other and resting it there.

 He nods, suddenly shy, suddenly guilty. “It’s as good as done.”

Valtteri laughs. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” You hear what he says, but you’re not listening, not really. Lewis stares into you like he wants to look anywhere else—apologetic eyes and a fear he’s taken a misstep. He hasn’t, you want to tell him. You haven’t, put your hand back, please. Silently, you try to convey what shouldn’t dare be spoken. “I’ll believe it when pen is on paper.”

He snaps his eyes away from you, back to Valtteri. You don’t follow suit, stay fixed on him, on trying— hard—to get your message across. “I’m telling you, they’re announcing it after the summer break.”

“Whatever you say, Mate.”

Bono nods around a mouthful of alcohol, sets his half-empty glass down with an incidental thud. “Who’s to say we still want your geriatric ass?”

Lewis raised his interlocked hands from his lap, to the tabletop, resting his elbows on the wood grain and rattling the empty glasses when he does it. He leans in towards the center of the table, even though the only person separating him and Bono is you. “Would you tell Schumacher ‘no?’”

“What was that?” You ask, your words a convenient excuse to lean in closer, to settle into a spot that much closer to him without raising any brows. To brace for the shift, you leave your hand on his thigh with less subtly than your original movement, but it’s okay. It’s okay—only Lewis knows where your hands are, and you don’t want it to be subtle, don’t want anything to be lost in translation. “I can’t hear you over your ego,” you smile, and your fingers dance up his leg just a few, careful inches. 

He drops back into his seat, drops his hands back into his lap. Under the table, he grabs yours and laughs, but it’s stifled, stunted, not quite relaxed. “Very funny,” he humors, and moves your hand back. His stays too, though, and he crosses one leg over the other under the table. His thumb moves over the fabric of your slacks in shudder-worthy circles. 

“Someone’s gotta check you,” you smile, nod in the direction of your tablemates without ever looking away from him. “These two won’t.”

Bono scoffs.“Are you kidding?”

Your smile grows. “How do you want me to answer that, Peter?”

“Damn,” Lewis laughs so hard he coughs. “She Peter-ed you. That’s cold.”

“You’re the one comparing yourself to Michael fucking Schumacher,” Bono scolds. 

“I didn’t say that, but,”

“But!” You interject. 

“But,” Lewis laughs, threatens to continue even though all at the table know he won’t, knows that no matter how often the media and the girlfriends and the friends and the family tell him he should put himself up there with the greatest, he’ll never quite see himself in the same light. “But it’s about time I head up, I think.”

“Ah, see,” Valtteri chuckles. “Old man Hamilton can’t hang.”

“No, he can not,” Lewis remarks, pulling his phone and his hotel keycard from his pocket, setting the latter on the table and if you were feeling a little crazier than you are, you’d swear he nudges it ever so slightly out of his bubble and into yours. He types away rapidly at his phone, and you try to pay attention to the jokes Bono and Valtteri throw around, the pokes at Lewis they make, but suddenly you’re feeling like it’s a good time to head up, too. You try to shake the crazy, to leave it with your backwash in the final sip of your drink, and you do. You do.

You do, but then he’s slipping his phone back into his pocket. He’s leaving his glass just beyond his keycard and telling you to feel free to finish it. He’s saying his goodbyes while he moves out of the booth and his hotel room key is still sat on the table next to you. It stares at you—the hard, thin plastic. Stares at you in its white paper pocket with the intricate printing of the hotel label and dares you to look at him when he walks away. 

You do, begrudgingly, subtly, and his eyes are already on yours. They’re expressionless, and yet, say so fucking much. You hold the remainder of his drink in his direction before downing it in a single gulp and then he winks at you. He looks at his keycard on the table, and then to you, and then he winks, and you’re sure you’re absolutely crazy. 

You swallow. 

“Oh, fuck,” Bono says, reaches over you to grab the keycard from the table. It’s like you were zoned out and he snapped in front of your face, the way it pulls you from Lewis to the table. “He forgot his key.”

“Oh,” you squeak, and then louder, “I can take it to him.”

“No, no, It’s okay,” Bono says, and he makes you stand up to get out of the booth. “I should be heading up anyway.”

“Really,” you half-insist, trying to convince him you can handle it without letting him in on why you’re convincing him. “It’s no problem.”

Bono pulls out his wallet, flips through the pockets of it and fiddles with his bills. “Our rooms are right by each other,” he insists, tosses his share onto the table. “I got it.”

“Okay,” you nod, accept your defeat. “Yeah, I should be heading up, too, I guess.”

[hard-core-super-star]

make you mine this season [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x barton!reader

summary: a badly timed snowstorm leaves you unable to make it to the barton farm for christmas. thankfully, a certain archer shows up to keep you company.

warnings: none, i think? just really cheesy, holiday rom-com type of fluff [i say this as if i've watched any holiday rom-com besides happiest season and the holiday 😶]; kate's a dork [wow, what a shock]; idiots in love; past mentions of bishova; bad jokes?; snowstorm; cheesy gifts bc kate can't talk about her feelings

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: HI, EVERYONE, I'M ALIVE! and it wouldn't be a rubix fic if it WASN'T posted a little late 😅 i hope you all had a fantastic holiday season and that you'll accept this very cheesy Christmas fic <3 [and maybe that last line is very self-indulgent but that's none of your business, if you know you know]

* * * * * * *

You’re no stranger to loneliness but things were bordering on ridiculous. Not only have you spent the past two years ridiculously in love with a certain purple-loving archer, you’re also on the verge of spending Christmas by yourself thanks to the worst-timed snowstorm of all time.

And maybe the first part of your unfortunate situation is your fault but that doesn’t stop the waves of disappointment from crashing into you.

This year was supposed to be different. 

That’s what you had told yourself in an effort to convince yourself to tell the young archer about your feelings for her. It was a strategy that almost worked…until a certain blonde decided to accept Kate’s offer for drinks…which turned into a date…which turned into a second date…which turned into the longest four months of your life.

You could never be one to be mad at someone else’s happiness but that didn’t stop you from feeling absolutely defeated every time you saw them together. There was no one to blame except you for the brunette’s lack of knowledge about your feelings and that only made everything worse.

It was impossible to ignore the ache in your chest when your eyes met Kate’s or the heavy jealousy that clouded most of your interactions with her. Maybe if you had been less into your head about the whole thing, you would have realized the way the archer’s smile never seemed to reach her eyes. 

Eyes that followed you every time you walked away.

You never noticed the traces of darkness that clung to her usually radiant persona but you were the first person at her side when the break up happened. She offered little to no details besides an awkward joke about the relationship ending almost exactly where it started right at the Rockefeller tree.

It was messed up in a way that made Kate want to make as many jokes about it as possible which resulted in you laughing at things that definitely weren’t funny and were just sad. Not as sad as spending the holidays completely alone and hopelessly in love with your best friend, though.

You were sure the archer was already well on her way to your dad’s farm which leaves you completely unprepared when the door to your apartment swings open to reveal her. She almost drops the key in her hand the second she realizes you’re home.

“What’re you doing here?” You question, doing your best to pretend you don’t see the gift bags she tries to hide behind her back.

You can practically see the wheels turning in her head before she’s finally able to respond. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at Clint’s?”

It’s hard not to laugh at the incredulous look on her face. No matter how many times you see it, it’s still as endearing as the first time. Back when she was just your dad’s protege and you hadn’t spent so many of your days learning the ins and outs of her complicated personality.

“Did the incoming snowstorm happen to slip your mind?”

“No, I just thought you’d want to go anyway,” she replies with a small shrug. 

“I’d rather not crash, Lila will never let me hear the end of it.”

Your words make her tilt her head to the side, the slightest hint of a pout on her face. “So…what, you’re just going to spend Christmas alone?”

“Yup. Kate, I’m not a kid anymore, nothing will happen if I spend one day by myself.”

“But it’s Christmas!” She exclaims, looking borderline offended that you’re so comfortable spending the holiday alone. 

“Is that why you’re breaking into my apartment?” You ask in a foolish attempt to stop yourself from asking her to spend the day with you. 

Just because she thought about you long enough to come drop off her, no doubt ridiculously expensive, gifts for you does not mean she wants to spend the holiday with you when she could easily spend it with anyone else.

The pink hue that overtakes her cheeks is a better gift than anything that could be inside the bags in her hand. “Well, uh…maybe…”  

She finally gathers enough courage to get rid of the distance between you with a bright, albeit nervous, smile on her face. You half-expect her to launch into some long ramble about why she just couldn’t stop herself from buying an insane amount of gifts for you this year but she doesn’t. 

For once in her life, Kate Bishop makes things easy for herself.

“I didn’t think I was going to make it to the farm on time so I was just going to drop these off for you…” She holds out the bag for you and you do your best to calm the rapid beating of your heart as you take it.

“Can I open it right now or will you get embarrassed?” 

“Both,” she replies through a chuckle. “I would leave but I don’t want you to be lonely.”

“Right, because I’m the one who gets lonely.”

“Shut up.”

It’s both a blessing and a curse to have broken through the archer’s defenses and right now, her cute reactions are beginning to feel like a curse. Although, that might just be your unrequited feelings talking.

A slightly awkward silence settles over both of you while you rifle through the overwhelming amount of purple tissue paper until you find your gift. You’re expecting another expensive necklace, maybe a bracelet this time, but what you’re met with is the most thoughtful gift you’ve ever received…and probably the most thoughtful gift Kate has ever given.

What you end up pulling out of the bag is a leather journal with a beautiful engraving of yours and Kate’s initials. “Kate…is this-”

“Yeah, I, um…I couldn’t find a photo album that I liked so I sort of…made my own.”

You can’t stop yourself from flipping through the first couple of pages, caught somewhere between the euphoria of being given something so beautiful and the disappointment that comes with knowing it all only serves to fuel your love for the archer. 

Love you can’t express the way you want to.

Love that’s hidden between the pages of the journal you hold in your hands. 

You don’t notice and Kate isn’t really in a hurry to watch you read the series of rambles that make up her overdue confession so she lets the moment fade like she always has. It’s not like you can blame her for wanting to move on to something else, her lack of focus isn’t necessarily a secret, and you let yourself get carried away by her jokes and her stubborn need to make mac and cheese for you.

The archer manages to cook without setting your kitchen on fire and the two of you settle on your couch to watch the first cheesy Christmas movie you find. In all honesty…the movie is awful but the corny jokes make Kate laugh so you can’t find it in yourself to be too grumpy about the shitty writing.

Until the scene in front of you reminds you of the archer and her ex. You’re unable to hold back the jealousy-tinted snarkiness said reminder brings out of you. “I think Yelena watched this movie and then decided to be a dick just like the main character.”

Kate instantly turns toward you, staring at you with wide eyes that barely hide her amusement. “What?”

“What?” You feign confusion to avoid having to repeat yourself.

“You know what,” she replies with an eyeroll. “If I’m the one who got broken up with, why are you the one that’s still upset?”

“Because- wait, why are you not upset?”

Your uno-reverse of a response leaves Kate speechless for a few seconds and you prepare yourself for the series of jokes that will no doubt leave her mouth next. 

But Kate’s never been predictable.

“Because…she didn’t break my heart. She didn’t even own it in the first place.”

Her words spark the low flames of hope hidden in the depths of your heart. It feels impossible and if you were a believer, you might even say Santa’s on your side, helping to give you the one thing you’ve wished for more nights than you can count.

And yet you hesitate.

“What are you trying to say?” You ask, your voice so soft it borders on cautious.

“That I’m an idiot,” she replies with that same bright smile that made you fall for her so long ago. “And…I’d really like to kiss you.”

The world seems to slow down to a complete stop at that moment. 

You almost don’t even know what to do with yourself. Thankfully, you manage to kick yourself into action before the moment passes.

Kate’s awkwardness seems to disappear into thin air as she leans in toward you, meeting you halfway for the softest, sweetest, kiss you’ve ever had. And maybe nothing about it is perfect but it’s you and her and that’s all that matters for now.

[ferrstappen]

Can I request petty jealous charles? He’s just quietly stewing in his anguish. I think it’s be funny if someone that he looks up to, like a musician or something, was flirting with his gf and this really upsets him. And he acts petty for a few days

a/n: sorry for the delay babeeee :( but here it issss. also this features Bad bunny bc I saw the pics of him arriving in Monaco and idk got the inspo. also we're going to pretend the last music challenge takes place after Monaco.

titi we don't care l Charles Leclerc

All eyes were on Monaco, and with good reason.

Engines roaring, cameras flashing, boat traffic (if that's a thing), Hollywood making their way from Cannes to the Principality, spotting old money meters away, most of them trying to get a word with Charles.

It was fine in the beginning, this wasn't the first Monaco GP you attended, but after the first free practice ended and Charles was grabbed from right to left, the Ferrari hospitality grabbing most of the attention of wealthy people, whispering how F1 was less exclusive by the day, too popularized, lousy celebrities getting an invite and they’d probably be present for Indy 500 and Le Mans. Shameful.

The same people were examining you, eyeing the “simple” Trina Turk dress and Bimba & Lola bag, gifted by Isa on your birthday, hanging from your arm, all before Charles PR manager approached to tell you he, the home hero, wouldn't be available until practices were over, too many press and meetings in between.

Then, a man with a glass of wine sat down next to you, telling you it was fucked up they wouldn't let the drivers prepare for what they were supposed to do, which was driving. Esta bien cabrón, those were his exact words.

He introduced himself as Benito, of course you knew him as Bad Bunny, his songs being everywhere and wasn't he dating Kendall Jenner?

He kept you entertained, bad mouthing the snotty people surrounding, stopping the conversation to greet people who approached him. Isa joined soon after, also shaking her head at the fact Carlos and Charles would have to spend almost the entire day worrying about media instead of resting and discussing strategies with the team for Sunday.

Conversation was easy, barely noticing the hospitality getting a bit more crowded, louder. It was the WhatsApp group with your girlfriends that got your attention, attaching pictures and asking what was going on between you and Bad Bunny. What?

Of course, Twitter was full of you laughing at something he said or before he pointed something funny or imitated a rich person making conversation on how quiet luxury was a trend now and how it wasn't fair for them, fucking Succession.

Suddenly, someone grabbed your waist from behind, making you jump because the only person allowed to grab you like that was supposed to be around somewhere, being interviewed or filming content, but you were wrong, a big grin appearing at the sight of Charles, full white and red, overall hanging on his waist and white Ferrari cap, hair fluffy from the heat and running his fingers through it.

"Bebé, I thought you'd be busy all the day," You kissed his lips, subtly squeezing his waist through the suit.

Yes, he was supposed to be busy until the day was over and you could head back home, but in-between interviews Charles checked his phone to the dismay of every PR worker in Ferrari, but his Twitter was filled with mentions of pictures. First they were pictures of you alone in the hospitality, Charles smiled knowing you were probably bored but stayed so he wouldn't be alone, but...

user1: Not Bad Bunny shooting his shot at Leclerc's girl 💀

user2: BENITO GET AWAY she's ms leclerc!!!11!

user3: damn, Charles Leclerc getting screwed by Ferrari and his girlfriend

user4: (y/n)'s probably bored af, Isa got to Monaco a couple of minutes ago and she's talking with Benito, big deal leave her alone she's there for Charles.

A strange feeling brewed in his stomach, he instantly knew he was jealous. Did he have a good reason? No, he trusted you and the relationship with his life, but he was obviously and painfully aware people wanted you; your good nature, gorgeous features, bright smile, perfectly shaped boobs... yes, it didn't sound fair when he left a trails of broken hearts and loving eyes everywhere he went, people being interested in F1 just because of his looks, but that was purely platonic, they didn't dare to make a move, but your case was different, he had seen with his own eyes how men tried to make their move right in front of him, he even made sure you always wore the gold necklace with a charm engraved with CL16 was visible.

Carlos, being part of the drivers' gossip network, eyed Charles' screen, whistling in a worried manner, telling him to be careful or he'd be listening to Bad Bunny songs about (y/n) on the radio.

"You know, there's pictures of Isa as well, look," Charles pointed out, annoyed by the teasing, but Carlos playfully dismissed him. "Hey, sorry but I have to get to the hospitality, I'm very overwhelmed and I need to see my girlfriend," Charles half lied; he wanted to see you, but just to let the second most streamed artist on Spotify know you were very loved and appreciated, and completely off limits.

Which takes him to the Ferrari hospitality.

"They gave us a couple of minutes before it's time for the last meeting," Charles tensed when noticing people were staring at him. "Why don't you wait at our lounge, bebé? It’s less crowded, Isa is there, Lorenzo and mum should be getting there soon,” he said in a hushed tone, but loud enough for the other man to hear. You nodded, getting up and collecting the small Bimba & Lola bag with some of the multiple passes and everything hanging from it.

"Oh, bebé, sorry. This is Benito, he was keeping me entertained," It was a bizarre situation, honestly, presenting a world-known singer to your boyfriend like he was a friend.

Charles squeezed your waist a bit tighter, shaking hands with the native from Puerto Rico. They exchanged a couple of words before someone approached the singer, making it easier for you to leave.

Charles was holding your hand a bit tighter than usual, maybe he was being protecting knowing people were watching every move. you asked him how the car felt, but he didn't give a real answer, just making a sound of approval.

That attitude carried on during the entire weekend, you thought it was the pressure of being home, past mistakes and bad luck haunting him. it ended when he crossed the finish line in first place, kissing you with tears on his eyes, relishing on being the home hero.

But two days later, he still had moments where he held his head a little taller, short answers and pretending he didn't hear you.

Charles knew he was being ridiculous, his fists tightening when some radio played a Bad Bunny song, even when one of them was voluntarily added by himself on a playlist, he had to take a deep breath. Irrational and disgusting behavior if you ask Charles, but he couldn't stop it. Not even when he saw you trying to hide the purple marks appearing on your hips.

He noticed your side of the bed dipped and light turned off, his back facing you as he pretended to be asleep, ignoring your soft chuckles. he didn't even flinch when your arms wrapped around his waist, placing your leg over his and loudly kissing his cheek.

"You are so cute when you're jealous," you told him, leaving another loud kiss, this time on his back.

"I'm not jealous!" He lied with a high-pitched voice, still not facing you.

"I know you are, but it's okay, it comes with having a girlfriend as incredible as me, you know?" This time Charles laughed, turning around and now placing his arms around your waist as yours moved to his neck.

"Shut up, he was flirting with you!" Charles argued.

"He was not! He actually saved me from a lot of creeps asking my name and whether I was free to grab a glass of wine or whatever,"

Charles knew that was the truth, he had witnessed it and was common talk between the drivers how their girlfriends and sisters were often approached by older men with not so good intentions.

Knowing he had no way to defend himself, he rolled his eyes at your giggles when your lips met his, but admiring him when he rolled on top of you, running your thumb through his cheeks.

[robertreich]

Biden vs. Trump: Whose Economic Plan Is Better for You? 

Trump failed to deliver on his number one campaign promise:

President Trump presided over a historic net loss of nearly 3 million American jobs, the worst jobs numbers ever recorded under an American president.

This is no fluke. America’s economy has almost always done worse under Republican presidents. A New York Times analysis found that since 1933, the U.S. economy has grown nearly twice as fast on average under Democrats.

Now Trump’s defenders claim it’s not his fault that the economy collapsed under his watch. It was the pandemic. But there are two big things wrong with this.

First, the pandemic recession was as bad as it was because of Trump. His failure to lead with any national strategy left America in chaos throughout 2020, long after other nations had developed coordinated testing, tracing, and social distancing plans that allowed them to reopen their economies.

But secondly, even before the pandemic, Trump failed to deliver on his economic promises. Job growth slowed under Trump.

America added more jobs in President Obama’s last three years than in Trump’s first three.

Even before the pandemic most middle-class American households saw their incomes go down under Trump.

Trump’s major economic policy was cutting taxes on the rich and big corporations. He promised it would result in $4,000 annual raises for workers. How did that work out? Did you get a $4,000 raise?

Republicans keep claiming that if we just cut enough taxes on the rich, the wealth will “trickle down.” But it never works. Wage growth slowed after Reagan’s tax cuts for the rich and big corporations. And the Bush and Trump tax cuts didn’t trickle down either.

These giveaways to the wealthy came at the expense of investments in infrastructure, education, and health care, making life more expensive and difficult for everyone who isn’t rich.

They also exploded the debt and deficit. Reagan oversaw a 186% increase in the national debt — the biggest percentage increase in over 70 years. The Bush and Trump tax cuts, that mostly benefited corporations and the rich, are the main reasons why America’s debt is growing faster than the economy.

Republican presidents have led us into the three worst economic crises of the last century, and Democrats led us out of them.

Republicans talk about running the country like a business, but they want to run it the way Trump ran his businesses: with massive debts, a string of failures, and payouts for the folks at the top, while workers get shafted again and again. Given Republicans’ track record, why would any hard-working American put their financial security in the hands of a Republican president ever again?