#and there are things that are illegal but are morally correct

[anneangel]

Javert is as tragic as the title of the book suggests, a miserable.

He may even be the main antagonist, in the sense of opposing the centric character (Jean Valjean), but he is certainly not a villain.

He is obsessed with fulfilling his duty and in a tireless pursuit of justice. He does not believe in Jean Valjean's redemption and his obsession with persecuting him is related to his rigid worldview based on his personal experience and inflexible principles, related to his past, where he was born into a dysfunctional family. He firmly believes in the idea that a bad person is bad forever. He sees his role as Inspector as a fight against crime and injustice.

He doesn't pursue Jean Valjean because he's a villain, he pursues him because he believes Jean is a criminal, who violated his parole, and therefore deserves to be sent back to the prison system.

He was just a man who believed he was doing the right thing, following the law. He believed that people chose to be miserable and that they got what they deserved for choosing to be "vagabonds." He looked at himself and took pleasure in thinking; I came from a dysfunctional home and I still do what is right, so if others don't do it, it's because they don't want to and will never change.

But then he finds himself at a crossroads after Jean Valjean spares his life: "the law says I must arrest this man. But my conscience says I owe him a life debt."

For the first time he contemplates that "law" and "justice" do not always go together. It would be "legal under the law" to arrest Jean, but it would not be "morally just". It's a conflict between legality versus morality.

So poor Javert still faces the deconstruction of his beliefs: “he thought that good and evil were very different things and that an ex-convict could only be bad while a police officer could only be good”, when he realizes that reality not obeys that extreme and that a prisoner can be good (or that it is possible to change and become good), just as a law enforcement officer can become corrupt.

Faced with so many things that he firmly believed falling apart, showing erroneous beliefs of live, he chooses to kill himself rather than live with such unrest. So, basically he commits suicide because he was saved by Jean Valjean, and he couldn't stand that fact.

It really must have been scary to discover that he has spent his life following beliefs that suddenly deteriorate in front of him. It's sad that in the face of this "scare" he chose to kill himself.

The character promotes a very pertinent reflection, and leads us to reconsider the way we look at people who are typically stigmatized by society. Victor Hugo is never trying to say that bad people are good deep down, nothing like that; After all, there is the character Mr. Thénardier to prove this. What he is saying is that we cannot make it an absolute rule that all people who commit crimes were and will be bad forever. Because by establishing that they are, a stigma is created that can be unfair for those who, like Jean, tried to change their lives.

It is also necessary to remember that at no point does Hugo say that Jean Valjen was right in stealing the bread, but rather that the penalty imposed on him was disproportionate to the crime committed. In the end, we read that Javert kills himself because he cannot bear the idea that Jean, an ex-prisoner, can go from darkness to light. While he, by following the law, committed an injustice.

He thinks that Jean, even though he was a former prisoner, managed to go to a place above him morally, while he, who was such an inflexible agent of the law, saw himself as someone tough who didn't understand the factor of redemption as an element capable of rescue the soul of someone who once made a mistake.

Honestly, I like the character and understand the powerful reflection he brings to us. But at the same time, I'm sad that he killed himself. He could have chosen other paths, but ultimately he was so desolate that he saw no other options.

[1pcii]

reading one piece after being a naruto fan for so long is like finally experiencing love again after being in an abusive relationship

[kercherisacanopener]

Seems a little unfair

[ursie]

Brennan’s statement on Palestine :

[ ID: Statement from Brennan Lee Mulligan, on Instagram. It consists of three black squares with plain white text. The text reads as follows:

"I'm calling on my government officials to immediately demand a ceasefire and de-escalation in Gaza.

I applaud anyone and everyone calling for peace, with the understanding that real peace only exists if it deeply and honestly accounts for and fully ends violence in all its forms. Real peace addresses and corrects wrong-doing in the past and guards against it in the future. It goes hand in hand with justice and requires truth, restoration, reconciliation, reparation.

Peace cannot co-exist with collective punishment, ethnic cleansing and forced displacement. It cannot co-exist with blockades, embargoes, or with 2.2 million people, half of which are children, trapped with no hope of escape or political recourse. it cannot co-exist with murdered journalists, bombed hospitals, or years of protesters being shot and killed at the border. it cannot co-exist with illegal settlements, segregated roads, and the silent, imperial chill that settles over the gaps in the violence - the unspoken geopolitical consensus that a group of people need to unflinchingly accept permanent subjugation and occupation.

My hear breaks for every Israeli person who lost loved ones during the attacks of October 7th. It breaks for every Ukrainian person who has lost their loved ones. It breaks for every Congolese person who has lost their loved ones. I do not speak on behalf of Palestinians now because some lives are worth more than others. I speak on their behalf because I, and all Americans, have a responsibility to pressure our government because we are responsible for this. Some have said that this situation is complicated. The Unites States government clearly disagrees. It has definitively, categorically, militarily chosen a side, and I do not agree with that decision.

In wiring this, I have been wrestling with what I am sure many people like me wrestle with: There is a powerful narrative surrounding violence in the Middle East that asserts and ever-moving goalpost of self-education and study in order to even be qualified to have an opinion. As someone with a love of research, I have at times in my life fallen into the trap that I am not educated enough clever enough, or aware enough to have a worthwhile perspective, and that three more articles and two more lectures and one more book will do the trick. Unfortunately, democracy doesn't work that way - we, the citizens of any democracy, cannot possibly be experts on every aspect of the policies of our governments, and yet if we do not constantly weigh in an make our voices heard, the entire experiment falls apart. Not only do people constantly doubt themselves and the things they can see with their own two eyes, but old shortcuts for political action can fall apart as well: This specific issue exists along a raw, charged and unique faultline in American Politics. Nobody I grew up with has ever challenged me on my support for abortion rights, LGBT rights, Black Lives Matter, anti-capitalism, anti-fascism, none of it. The people in my country who would despise me for those positions are, for all intents and purposes, strangers to me. But there are people who I've broken bread with and shared honest affection with who will see the words I've written here and incorrectly conclude that I do not wish for the security, dignity and happiness of them and their loved ones, and that breaks my fucking heart. Full-throatedly condemning the actions of the Israeli government while battling rampant anti-semitism at home is an urgent moral necessity, and doing so is made unnecessarily challenging for the average person to navigate by the pointed obfuscations of cynical opportunists, bigots, and demagogues on all sides of the political spectrum who see some advantage in sowing that incredibly dangerous confusion.

So, I'm calling my representatives. I'm having hard conversations with friends and family. I'm here, talking to you. I should have done it sooner. If you're Israeli and hurt by this statement, know that I want freedom, dignity, security and peace for you, and that every ounce of my political awareness believes whole-heartedly that the actions of your government are not only destroying innocent lives, but doing so to the detriment of you and your loved ones' safety. If you're American and feel lost and confused - I understand and empathize. This, the whole country, only works when we get involved. I am constantly haunted by the specter that maybe I missed some crucial piece of information on this, or any, important world event. I'll just have to make my peace with that self-doubt and trust my gut by going with Jewish Voice for Peace, Amnesty International, the Geneva Conventions, the United Nations, etc. And if you're Palestinian and reading this: I unreservedly support your right to life, to freedom, to happiness and human flourishing, to full enfranchisement and equal rights, to opportunity, prosperity and abundance, to the restoration of stolen property and land, and to a Free Palestine." End ID ]

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Surveillance pricing

THIS WEEKEND (June 7–9), I'm in AMHERST, NEW YORK to keynote the 25th Annual Media Ecology Association Convention and accept the Neil Postman Award for Career Achievement in Public Intellectual Activity.

Correction, 7 June 2024: The initial version of this article erroneously described Jeffrey Roper as the founder of ATPCO. He benefited from ATPCO, but did not co-found it. The initial version of this article called ATPCO "an illegal airline price-fixing service"; while ATPCO provides information that the airlines use to set prices, it does not set prices itself, and while the DOJ investigated the company, they did not pursue a judgment declaring the service to be illegal. I regret the error.

Noted anti-capitalist agitator Adam Smith had it right: "People of the same trade seldom meet together, even for merriment and diversion, but the conversation ends in a conspiracy against the public, or in some contrivance to raise prices."

Despite being a raving commie loon, Smith's observation was so undeniably true that regulators, policymakers, and economists couldn't help but acknowledge that it was true. The trustbusting era was defined by this idea: if we let the number of companies in a sector get too small, or if we let one or a few companies get too big, they'll eventually start to rig prices.

What's more, once an industry contracts corporate gigantism, it will become too big to jail, able to outspend and overpower the regulators charged with reining in its cheating. Anyone who believes Smith's self-evident maxim had to accept its conclusion: that companies had to be kept smaller than the state that regulated them. This wasn't about "punishing bigness" – it was the necessary precondition for a functioning market economy.

We kept companies small for the same reason that we limited the height of skyscrapers: not because we opposed height, or failed to appreciate the value of a really good penthouse view – rather, to keep the building from falling over and wrecking all the adjacent buildings and the lives of the people inside them.

Starting in the neoliberal era – Carter, then Reagan – we changed our tune. We liked big business. A business that got big was doing something right. It was perverse to shut down our best companies. Instead, we'd simply ban big companies from rigging prices. This was called the "consumer welfare" theory of antitrust. It was a total failure.

40 years later, nearly every industry is dominated by a handful of companies, and these companies price-gouge us with abandon. Worse, they use their gigantic ripoff winnings to fill war-chests that fund the corruption of democracy, capturing regulators so that they can rip us off even more, while ignoring labor, privacy and environmental law and ducking taxes.

It turns out that keeping gigantic, opaque, complex corporations honest is really hard. They have so many ways to shuffle money around that it's nearly impossible to figure out what they're doing. Digitalization makes things a million times worse, because computers allow businesses to alter their processes so they operate differently for every customer, and even for every interaction.

This is Dieselgate times a billion: VW rigged its cars to detect when they were undergoing emissions testing and switch to a less polluting, more compliant mode. But when they were on the open road, they spewed lethal quantities of toxic gas, killing people by the thousands. Computers don't make corporate leaders more evil, but they let evil corporate leaders execute far more complex and nefarious plans. Digitalization is a corporate moral hazard, making it just too easy and tempting to rig the game.

That's why Toyota, the largest car-maker in the world, just did Dieselgate again, more than a decade later. Digitalization is a temptation no giant company can resist:

https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c1wwj1p2wdyo

For forty years, pro-monopoly cheerleaders insisted that we could allow companies to grow to unimaginable scale and still prevent cheating. They passed rules banning companies from explicitly forming agreements to rig prices. About ten seconds later, new middlemen popped up offering "information brokerages" that helped companies rig prices without talking to one another.

Take Agri Stats: the country's hyperconcentrated meatpacking industry pays Agri Stats to "consult on prices." They provide Agri Stats with a list of their prices, and then Agri Stats suggests changes based on its analysis. What does that analysis consist of? Comparing the company's prices to its competitors, who are also Agri Stats customers:

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

In other words, Agri Stats finds the highest price for each product in the sector, then "advises" all the companies with lower prices to raise their prices to the "competitive" level, creating a one-way ratchet that sends the price of food higher and higher.

More and more sectors have an Agri Stats, and digitalization has made this price-gouging system faster, more efficient, and accessible to sectors with less concentration. Landlords, for example, have tapped into Realpage, a "data broker" that the same thing to your rent that Agri Stats does to meat prices. Realpage requires the landlords who sign up for its service to accept its "recommendations" on minimum rents, ensuring that prices only go up:

https://popular.info/p/feds-raid-corporate-landlord-escalating

Writing for The American Prospect, Luke Goldstein lays out the many ways in which these digital intermediaries have supercharged the business of price-rigging:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-06-05-three-algorithms-in-a-room/

Goldstein identifies a kind of patient zero for this ripoff epidemic: Jeffrey Roper, a former Alaska Air exec who benefited from a service that helps airlines set prices. ATPCO was investigated by the DOJ in the 1990s, but the enforcers lost their nerve and settled with the company, which agreed to apply some ornamental fig-leafs to its collusion-machine. Even those cosmetic changes were seemingly a bridge too far Roper, who left the US.

But he came back to serve as Realpage's "principal scientist" – the architect of a nationwide scheme to make rental housing vastly more expensive. For Roper, the barrier to low rents was empathy: landlords felt stirrings of shame when they made shelter unaffordable to working people. Roper called these people "idiots" who sentimentality "costs the whole system."

Sticking a rent-gouging computer between landlords and the people whose lives they ruin is a classic "accountability sink," as described in Dan Davies' new book "The Unaccountability Machine: Why Big Systems Make Terrible Decisions – and How The World Lost its Mind":

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

It's a form of "empiricism washing": if computers are working in the abstract realm of pure numbers, they're just moving the objective facts of the quantitative realm into the squishy, imperfect qualitative world. Davies' interview on Trashfuture is excellent:

https://trashfuturepodcast.podbean.com/e/fire-sale-at-the-accountability-store-feat-dan-davies/

To rig prices, an industry has to solve three problems: the problem of coming to an agreement to fix prices (economists call this "the collective action problem"); the problem of coming up with a price; and the problem of actually changing prices from moment to moment. This is the ripoff triangle, and like a triangle, it has many stable configurations.

The more concentrated an industry is, the easier it is to decide to rig prices. But if the industry has the benefit of digitalization, it can swap the flexibility and speed of computers for the low collective action costs from concentration. For example, grocers that switch to e-ink shelf tags can make instantaneous price-changes, meaning that every price change is less consequential – if sales fall off after a price-hike, the company can lower them again at the press of a button. That means they can collude less explicitly but still raise prices:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/26/glitchbread/#electronic-shelf-tags

My name for this digital flexibility is "twiddling." Businesses with digital back-ends can alter their "business logic" from second to second, and present different prices, payouts, rankings and other key parts of the deal to every supplier or customer they interact with:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

Not only does twiddling make it easier to rip off suppliers, workers and customers, it also makes these crimes harder to detect. Twiddling made Dieselgate possible, and it also underpinned "Greyball," Uber's secret strategy of refusing to send cars to pick up transportation regulators who would then be able to see firsthand how many laws the company was violating:

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/03/03/technology/uber-greyball-program-evade-authorities.html

Twiddling is so easy that it has brought price-fixing to smaller companies and less concentrated sectors, though the biggest companies still commit crimes on a scale that put these bit-players to shame. In The Prospect, David Dayen investigates the "personalized pricing" ripoff that has turned every transaction into a potential crime-scene:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-06-04-one-person-one-price/

"Personalized pricing" is the idea that everything you buy should be priced based on analysis of commercial surveillance data that predicts the maximum amount you are willing to pay.

Proponents of this idea – like Harvard's Pricing Lab with its "Billion Prices Project" – insist that this isn't a way to rip you off. Instead, it lets companies lower prices for people who have less ability to pay:

https://thebillionpricesproject.com/

This kind of weaponized credulity is totally on-brand for the pro-monopoly revolution. It's the same wishful thinking that led regulators to encourage monopolies while insisting that it would be possible to prevent "bad" monopolies from raising prices. And, as with monopolies, "personalized pricing" leads to an overall increase in prices. In econspeak, it is a "transfer of wealth from consumer to the seller."

"Personalized pricing" is one of those cuddly euphemisms that should make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. A more apt name for this practice is surveillance pricing, because the "personalization" depends on the vast underground empire of nonconsensual data-harvesting, a gnarly hairball of ad-tech companies, data-brokers, and digital devices with built-in surveillance, from smart speakers to cars:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/12/market-failure/#car-wars

Much of this surveillance would be impractical, because no one wants their car, printer, speaker, watch, phone, or insulin-pump to spy on them. The flexibility of digital computers means that users always have the technical ability to change how these gadgets work, so they no longer spy on their users. But an explosion of IP law has made this kind of modification illegal:

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

This is why apps are ground zero for surveillance pricing. The web is an open platform, and web-browsers are legal to modify. The majority of web users have installed ad-blockers that interfere with the surveillance that makes surveillance pricing possible:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

But apps are a closed platform, and reverse-engineering and modifying an app is a literal felony – several felonies, in fact. An app is just a web-page skinned with enough IP to make it a felony to modify it to protect your consumer, privacy or labor rights:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/07/treacherous-computing/#rewilding-the-internet

(Google is leading a charge to turn the web into the kind of enshittifier's paradise that apps represent, blocking the use of privacy plugins and proposing changes to browser architecture that would allow them to felonize modifying a browser without permission:)

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

Apps are a twiddler's playground. Not only can they "customize" every interaction you have with them, but they can block you (or researchers seeking to help you) from recording and analyzing the app's activities. Worse: digital transactions are intimate, contained to the palm of your hand. The grocer whose e-ink shelf-tags flicker and reprice their offerings every few seconds can be collectively observed by people who are in the same place and can start a conversation about, say, whether to come back that night a throw a brick through the store's window to express their displeasure. A digital transaction is a lonely thing, atomized and intrinsically shielded from a public response.

That shielding is hugely important. The public hates surveillance pricing. Time and again, through all of American history, there have been massive and consequential revolts against the idea that every price should be different for every buyer. The Interstate Commerce Commission was founded after Grangers rose up against the rail companies' use of "personalized pricing" to gouge farmers.

Companies know this, which is why surveillance pricing happens in secret. Over and over, every day, you are being gouged through surveillance pricing. The sellers you interact with won't tell you about it, so to root out this practice, we have to look at the B2B sales-pitches from the companies that sell twiddling tools.

One of these companies is Plexure, partly owned by McDonald's, which provides the surveillance-pricing back-ends for McD's, Ikea, 7-Eleven, White Castle and others – basically, any time a company gives you a hard-sell to order via its apps rather than its storefronts or its website, you should assume you're getting twiddled, hard.

These companies use the enshittification playbook to trap you into using their apps. First, they offer discounts to customers who order through their apps – then, once the customers are fully committed to shopping via app, they introduce surveillance pricing and start to jack up the prices.

For example, Plexure boasts that it can predict what day a given customer is getting paid on and use that information to raise prices on all the goods the customer shops for on that day, on the assumption that you're willing to pay more when you've got a healthy bank balance.

The surveillance pricing industry represents another reason for everything you use to spy on you – any data your "smart" TV or Nest thermostat or Ring doorbell can steal from you can be readily monetized – just sell it to a surveillance pricing company, which will use it to figure out how to charge you more for everything you buy, from rent to Happy Meals.

But the vast market for surveillance data is also a potential weakness for the industry. Put frankly: the commercial surveillance industry has a lot of enemies. The only thing it has going for it is that so many of these enemies don't know that what's they're really upset about is surveillance.

Some people are upset because they think Facebook made Grampy into a Qanon. Others, because they think Insta gave their kid anorexia. Some think Tiktok is brainwashing millennials into quoting Osama bin Laden. Some are upset because the cops use Google location data to round up Black Lives Matter protesters, or Jan 6 insurrectionists. Some are angry about deepfake porn. Some are angry because Black people are targeted with ads for overpriced loans or colleges:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/06/04/meta_ad_algorithm_discrimination/

And some people are angry because surveillance feeds surveillance pricing. The thing is, whatever else all these people are angry about, they're all angry about surveillance. Are you angry that ad-tech is stealing a 51% share of news revenue? You're actually angry about surveillance. Are you angry that "AI" is being used to automatically reject resumes on racial, age or gender grounds? You're actually angry about surveillance.

There's a very useful analogy here to the history of the ecology movement. As James Boyle has long said, before the term "ecology" came along, there were people who cared about a lot of issues that seemed unconnected. You care about owls, I care about the ozone layer. What's the connection between charismatic nocturnal avians and the gaseous composition of the upper atmosphere? The term ecology took a thousand issues and welded them together into one movement.

That's what's on the horizon for privacy. The US hasn't had a new federal consumer privacy law since 1988, when Congress acted to ban video-store clerks from telling the newspapers what VHS cassettes you were renting:

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

We are desperately overdue for a new consumer privacy law, but every time this comes up, the pro-surveillance coalition defeats the effort. but as people who care about conspiratorialism, kids' mental health, spying by foreign adversaries, phishing and fraud, and surveillance pricing all come together, they will be an unbeatable coalition:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

Meanwhile, the US government is actually starting to take on these ripoff artists. The FTC is working to shut down data-brokers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/16/the-second-best-time-is-now/#the-point-of-a-system-is-what-it-does

The FBI is raiding landlords to build a case against Frontpage and other rent price-fixers:

https://popular.info/p/feds-raid-corporate-landlord-escalating

Agri Stats is facing a DoJ lawsuit:

https://www.nationalhogfarmer.com/market-news/agri-stats-loses-motions-to-transfer-dismiss-in-doj-antitrust-case

Not every federal agency has gotten the message, though. Trump's Fed Chairman, Jerome Powell – whom Biden kept on the job – has been hiking interest rates in a bid to reduce our purchasing power by making millions of Americans poorer and/or unemployed. He's doing this to fight inflation, on the theory that inflation is being cause by us being too well-off, and therefore trying to buy more goods than are for sale.

But of course, interest rates are inflationary: when interest rates go up, it gets more expensive to pay your credit card bills, lease your car, and pay a mortgage. And where we see the price of goods shooting up, there's abundant evidence that this is the result of greedflation – companies jacking up their prices and blaming inflation. Interest rate hawks say that greedflation is impossible: if one company raises its prices, its competitors will swoop in and steal their customers with lower prices.

Maybe they would do that – if they didn't have a toolbox full of algorithmic twiddling options and a deep trove of surveillance data that let them all raise prices together:

https://prospect.org/blogs-and-newsletters/tap/2024-06-05-time-for-fed-to-meet-ftc/

Someone needs to read some Adam Smith to Chairman Powell: "People of the same trade seldom meet together, even for merriment and diversion, but the conversation ends in a conspiracy against the public, or in some contrivance to raise prices."

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/2024/06/05/your-price-named/#privacy-first-again

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

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[rachelamberish]

In times like these it’s always exhausting to see the over corrective nature of discourse because some overly online fuckheads want to harass devs.

There’s a difference between harassment and critique. There’s a difference between harassment and facing a negative response for the words that come out of your mouth. Both happened in response to Epler’s comments at the AMA, unfortunately.

But then a fanbase sees this shit is happening and goes, “WELL, if you don’t have anything NICE TO SAY…”—no. Shut the fuck up. I have mean things to say and I’m going to say them. I tag my critique and you don’t have to see it if you don’t want to, and neither does he.

I’m allowed to say “damn that shit’s fucking dumb and he should never have said it”. He’s a public figure willingly making public statements. I’m allowed to have an opinion of him and it’s allowed to be negative.

I’m NOT allowed to go into his DMs and bitch at him or — god forbid — wish death or harm upon him either privately or publically because, you know, that’s ILLEGAL and MORALLY WRONG and also INCREDIBLY CHILDISH considering it’s a fucking video game and he’s talking about fake people.

There’s a difference! Grow up and learn it, whether you’re someone harassing devs or someone trying to silence those critiquing them. You suck and you’re missing the point, if you’re doing either.

[leostarred]

icky emoji combos to look out for :(

-🌈🍖 (proship)

-🍓🍰 (proship)

↑Someone who supports/likes romantic relationships in media that is considered "problematic" as well as supporting fanworks about said pairings.

-🌸🌙 (comship)

-🕊️🍋 (comship)

↑Similar to Proship, someone who indulges in complicated ships, things that are socially/morally unacceptable in reality, they do not endorse these things irl, but still triggering.

-🍋🌈 (profic)

↑These people don't really care what others ship- which is fine, they basically just stay out of the way of others, and don't really argue over their ships being correct, or others being incorrect (while this is probably one of the least bad ones, that still means they are okay with icky/illegal ships)

-🐰🎀 (l0licon)

↑A type of media fixated on younger looking women in a sexual or erotic sense, probably the people who say "but she's a god!!!!" when she looks like 5.

-🍯🧸 (sh0tacon)

↑Someone who is attracted to fictional characters under the age of 16... so fictional p3dos. Icky.

-🕊️⚰️ (deaddove)

↑Enjoyer of darker media, things that are violent or vile in general.. sometimes being things like necr0ph!l!a.

-🥀☁️ (n0n-c0n)

↑Enjoys fictional tropes with lack of consent; like r@pe.

-📚☕️ (agegap)

↑Pretty self explanatory, they usually enjoy ships with a biiiig age gap, the reason this is problematic is because usually one of the people in the pairing is super young.

-🌸💫 (gr00ming)

↑Someone who enjoys grooming in media, essentially, grooming is preparing someone younger for sexual purposes, or abuse.

.

.

.

These emoji combos are associated with things like pro shippers or dark media lovers, if you don't want to interact with these icky people, look out for these !

Here are some ANTI emoji combos 2 use!

-🍡💫

-🧋🎀

-🥛💎

-🌹👻

-🔥🍄

-🥩🧸

-🦴🫙

-👽🍦

-🫧🪷

-🧼🍰

-🍫⛓️

-🍤💣

-🧁🦠

-🌈🫘

-🍭🪓

-🧇🎈

-💊🌱

-🍬🚬

-🍪🪦

-🪄🍩

-🥞💫

also reminder that "🌈♾️" means autism.. please do not block autistic ppl in mistake for proshippers. 😭

[1920sladydectective]

Two Steps Forward, One Forest Back 2.8K

This is for @kkatsukiswife who had an awesome idea and let me write it! I hope it fulfils your expectations, it's a little longer than I'd intended.

Head of Medarda Oil Corp, Ambessa is exhausted by the silly environmental scientist who keeps ruining her expansion. There's only one way to fix that.

Cross posted to AO3

MINORS DNI

Warnings: Degradation, Tipsy Sex, Exhibitionism and Dumbification kinda, Choking, Bathroom Sex, mentions of bondage

This is NOT proofread cause fuck that:

It had only been three months and yet every moment spent working for the Medarda corporation seemed to shave years off of your life. 

You had gone in so rosy eyed, certain you would be changing the future for the better, making a huge environmental impact, finally able to regulate and report the bastards rotting the world. Your boss, manipulative asshole that she was, had basically promised as much. Instead you sat in opulent boardrooms, battling the wolves as they attempted to turn the world to ash and profit margins. 

CEO Ambessa Medarda was the worst to deal with, her children at least seemed to possess half a conscience. She, however, stared across the mahogany table and tried to devour your soul. It started as small things, not reading your reports before shareholder meetings, or perhaps misquoting some of your numbers. Easily corrected, if you could stand the dark gaze she’d send your way. 

“Of course,” She’d simper, “Thank you for that, my Dear,” 

Soon it became more outrageous, your body flooding with cortisol at every new email you received. Their drilling sight was in a forest, though if you were to point that out she would remind you it was well within the guidelines of oil drilling near wildlife and flora. Well within was a handful of metres, as close as they could have gotten, and every time your numbers remind you of that you have to do a meditative breathing exercise. This wasn’t enough for Ambessa though, there was more just within the treeline and her recent campaign had made it clear she wanted it regardless of the consequences. 

Meeting Four - 24th August 2024 - Recorded Minutes 

AM - Surely a matter of inches will make no impact, gentlemen, and look at the margin of profit. Nobody else has been able to secure a site like this, it would be sellable at an astounding premium. 

ES - Nobody has secured that sort of site for a reason, Mrs Medarda. The havoc it would cause to the local ecosystem is immense, and it is illegal for that reason. 

AM - Not illegal per new legislation, just heavily regulated. 

ES - Do you have any proposals to help you meet those regulations? I seem to be looking at stocks and traders and very little else. 

AM - All in due time

ES - Due time is now Mrs Medarda

You could still feel the air being sucked from the room. It was as bold as you had gotten so far, and her crimson smirk seemed to ward you off of doing it again. The day after the meeting, none of your alarms had gone off, your expensive eco-friendly coffee machine broke and your company key-card stopped working. It had to be a coincidence, but you had been looking over your shoulder ever since. 

Ambessa lingered like a shark who could smell blood. Her beautiful, towering form monitoring your every move. Sometimes, in the quiet early morning it would be only you and her in the building. Her scent seemed to linger, heady and sharp, her sparkling eyes and sarcastic smiles hyper focused on you. It was heavy, such attention, especially when a deep, villainous part of your soul would remind you that she was just your type. Imposing, commanding, insanely muscular. Had you seen her on the streets your mouth would have watered. She couldn’t know that though. Never, ever. She was flirtatious enough when she thought you had no interest, she’d rip your moral compass to shreds if she got a taste of your inner turmoil. She wanted to eat you and you would not let her. 

Her voice, melodic and low, was suddenly in your ear. For Fuck Sake.

“Another eighty nine page legal document in my inbox, darling,” She was so close, so close you twitched, “You really are ensuring the best for our company,” 

“Wouldn’t want you to rush into any development decisions without knowing all the facts,” You said, raising an eyebrow with a shrug, “Bad for business,”

“You’d know all about being bad for business,” She said alluringly, sharp teeth glinting behind her lips, making you gulp slightly. 

She walked away with no other words, her hips swaying impossibly slowly as she took long purposeful strides. You almost groaned, downing cold, bitter coffee beans. This job was going to kill you. 

Days passed in a blur, each one filled with heavy looks and cutting remarks. Each day she moved three steps forward and you pushed her four back. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, you thought she’d throttle you against the wall for all to see. 

One day she did. 

You were gasping, body trembling, as she held you against the boardroom table by your throat, fingers trailing your inner thighs. Her gruff voice was taunting you, teasing your aching core as she squeezed your neck just enough for your vision to blur. She had had enough of your interference, showing you how weak you truly were. 

“You’d know all about being bad for business,” She mocked, licking your hard clit. 

There was nothing you could do but submit, babbling and grunting as she finally gave you the touch you craved. Her name fell from your lips in a perverse prayer, wanton and airy. 

You were so close, she could tell, eyes glossy as you thrust into her touch. Your orgasm ripped through you, making you scream. 

Neon numbers glimmered. 3:14AM. 

You’d just had a sex dream about your corrupt oil baron boss, real enough to dampen your sheets. Your body ached and against better judgement you reached into your nightstand, vibrator wiping your mind of all thoughts until you cummed yourself back to sleep. 

As the morning beckoned, so did your crippling, sticky guilt. You couldn’t keep going on like this, you had to get it out of your system and not by having graphic dreams about Ambessa Fucking Medarda. There was only one thing for it, you would have to get drunk at the artsy lesbian bar downtown and fuck a random stranger. Obviously. 

You felt good. Your hair had styled just right, your make up hadn’t made you screech irritatedly at your cat and for once heels didn’t feel awful. This was going well. You were going to get some. Or something. 

The bar was packed, full of swaying hips and swishing hair as you creeped your way to the bar. Cocktails were on offer, dangerous and delicious as you sat swinging your legs on a barstool. Music had you swaying in time, downing drink after drink as you fluttered your eyelashes at every pretty girl who glanced your way. You’d never been too good at the chase, but you were desperate enough to try. 

Dancing was freeing, body moving of its own accord as you twirled in circles and gripped strangers arms, moving fast and close together. Everything felt naturally fuzzy, light and right, exactly as you’d needed. She hadn’t even crossed your mi-

Ambessa stood tall, leaving lazily against the bar as a drunken brunette tried to chat her up. She was sweet enough, giggly and open, relishing in any attention she gave her. She wasn’t quite right though, Ambessa sighed, her parameters were incredibly specific tonight. Almost impossibly so and yet. There you were, tipsy yourself clearly, dancing in the arms of a short blonde woman. Ambessa’s lips curled into a devious grin, waiting patiently for you to catch her eye. 

No. Just no. 

Your gaze was stuck to hers, a magnet pulling you in as your mind swirled. She looked perfect, the confines of the business world had melted away to reveal raw sex appeal. Her muscles seemed larger, clearer as her shirt and trousers clung to her. Her thighs were too delicious, her gold make up adding a shimmer to her dark eyes. You faintly felt the blonde woman’s hands on your hips as you moved, mind full of cotton. Ambessa raised her glass, tilting it towards you mockingly, her grin eating at you. 

Want. Need. All consumin- No. Enough. Goodbye Ambessa. 

Your burning form turned away from her, extracting yourself from the dance and looping the long way back to the other side of the bar, hidden from Ambessa’s position. Downing a tequila shot, you grunted. Your plan was fucked and you needed to leave here as soon as possible, but she was right by the exit. Panicked, you slipped into the bathroom, fingers gripping the art deco sink for life as you huffed. You looked as good as you had when you left home and yet you felt a state, lips puffy and hair seemingly unkempt. 

Click

“Hello there, darling,” Ambessa’s honeyed voice echoed in the tiny bathroom as she locked the main door, “Fancy seeing you here,” 

Your mouth dried, her beauty almost stifling this close, “Mrs Medarda,”

“We’re in a gay bar Dear, you can call me Ambessa,” She snorted, stepping to rest just to your right. She was circling you in her head, your body the sweetest prey she could hope to hunt. 

“Ambessa,” You repeated, unsure, “What do you want?” 

She laughed almost pityingly, it was seductive, frustrating, just like the rest of her as she murmured your name. 

“Me?” Heat burns in your gut, making you cramp with need, the alcohol in your blood no match for the warmth of lust. 

“Of course,” Her hand cupped your chin, forcing you to hold her gaze, “I’ve always wanted you, you must know you drive me to distraction,”

It seemed unlikely, her distracted by anything, but it was such an arousing, tempting thought. Your mouth lulled open in a small gasp, her fingers tickling against your neck. You were done for, mind melting down between your legs the longer she looked at you. It felt like she could sense it, her other hand bending you slightly as your hands scrambled to lie against the ornate mirror so that you could steady yourself, stomach now against the sink. 

“What?” You stammered, as she sank to the floor, strong elbows nudging your legs apart. 

“You’re not naive, pretty girl,” She breathed, her words dancing across your bare thighs, “You’ve got too many brains in your soft head for that,” 

It was odd to be complimented by her, especially for your intelligence. It made you feel proud and happy. Her praise was immediately addictive, spilling forth from blood red lips as she kissed and nipped at your skin. Each word a nail in the coffin of your demise, each kiss a moment longer being drowned by her. You were stuck, and as you caught your own hazy, tipsy expression in the mirror you giggled. Oops. 

Ambessa rewarded your giggle with a lick against your clothed cunt, her tongue flat and slow. Everything went silent for a moment as you bucked against her grip, whining. 

“Good girl,” She hummed, “Soaked for me,” 

“God,” you slurred, she had you desperate and aching. 

“We can make that my name if you like,” She muttered mockingly, pushing aside your lacy underwear and lapping at your drenched hole. Her touch was considerate, fast and calculated as you huffed and sighed. Her strong hands gripped your hips, rocking you against the basin as she fucked you mercilessly with her tongue. She could feel the dwindling hesitance in you, the desire to submit held back by weak moral strings. It was okay, she thought, she’d snap those as you came into her mouth. 

Her goal was simple, make you an empty headed doll for her to ruin, mark and stuff you until you finally understood how to respect her. Then she might actually get somewhere. You were in your own world of pleasure, following her movements as you trembled and burned. It felt so good, better than any dream could have been. 

Your orgasm was close, taunting you and making your vision dance with pretty white stars. Some weak, nearly dead part of you wanted to resist it, to uphold some control. She didn’t own you. Not yet at least. The resistance was too late however, as thick, calloused fingers teased and stretched your cunt out of nowhere, just as she sucked your hard clit into her wet, perfect mouth. Your mind and morals shattered like pretty iridescent glass. 

“Fuck,” You cried against the mirror, eyes rolling into your head, “Shit fuck,” 

“That’s my slut,” Ambessa said, savouring the sloppy liquid dripping down your thighs. 

The nickname surprised and confused you, heavy head looking down at her. 

“What else could you be?” She said commandingly, sucking her fingers dry as your eyes glazed, “You’re so good for me, taking what I give you, like a whore would,” 

You nodded, legs trembling. You did want to take it. Take it all. Whatever she said. It almost made you feel drunker, though the tequila had long since floated through you now. 

“If I had known it would be this easy to make you pliant and soft,” She muttered huskily, words touching your ear as she stood, “I’d have bent you over my desk weeks ago, Little girl,” 

That enough made a small orgasm flutter out, your chest heaving as stared into her eyes in the reflection. Her hand slapped against your wet pussy, making you smile as you blew a little kiss her way. 

Ambessa snorted, smoothing over your slightly sweaty hairline. You were so pretty, even better now you were hers. 

“Watch yourself,” She muttered hypnotically, “In the mirror,” 

You hummed, glancing at yourself. She was pretty to stare at but you didn’t want to make her unhappy. Suddenly, it felt as though you were being lifted above the ground slightly, her strong arm holding you as she stuffed three fingers into you. 

The stretch burned, making you snarl slightly as she made you whole. That was how it felt. Complete and perfect, as the look of your clouded, slutty face made you hornier. You loved how she made you look, how she made you feel, obscene slapping sounds filling the bathroom. 

A light shove against the door, your moan choking in your throat as exhilaration at being quite suffocated you. 

“Oh,” A distant drunken sigh, “This bathroom’s closed for repairs, let’s try the other,” 

Ambessa bit your neck, sucking at your sweet spot, as she felt you clench and gush at the sound of voices, “You like that, Good girl? The thought of them knowing a horny mess is being fucked into oblivious in a random bar?”

You nodded, neck aching with the force as you continued to stare at yourself. Any time your gaze drifted to her she would stop dead, eyes dark. After the second time it nearly killed you and you forced yourself to meet your drooling expression. Ambessa seemed intent on sending you over the edge, thinking she had all of you but your longing voice proved her wrong. 

“My throat,” You moaned, “Need you to c-crush it, like my,” a desperate whine, “like my dreams,” 

Ambessa felt herself black out slightly at your request, your whimpering and begging making her own cunt twitch wantonly. She dropped your feet back onto the navy tile, hand wrapping around your neck with measured pressure. The change was immediate, your body no longer tense and twitching, but limp like the doll she’d dreamed off. You took her relentless thrusts, effortlessly, as she made your blood rush and pulse in her ears. Air wasn’t necessary unless she gave it to you, tongue lolling out of your mouth. You came as suddenly as last time, losing your vision as you squirted down her arm, lungs greedily inhaling air as she crushed your throat and released it. 

You don’t really remember how you’d moved from the bathroom, mind empty as strong arms tidied you up as much as possible and led you through the warm crowds. A long, sleek car sat waiting for her and you were gently placed in it. You’d never been in a limousine before, not that you had any brain capacity to appreciate it. 

“Precious girl,” She cooed, stroking your cheek as she pushed you onto the carpeted floor of the car, “I think it’s your turn, don’t you?” 

She’d slipped her trousers off and her cunt was bare for you to get lost in. You almost squealed in excitement, nuzzling and licking happily all to serve her. It took hours, moving from car, to against her front door and finally in her silky, warm bed. Toys, a violent pounding from behind and some soft ropes had you pleading to serve her, to be used and owned. 

You had been right, there was no coming back from the sweet bliss of her control, consequences be damned. 

Ambessa liked you against her, devoted and spent as she spun commands for you, all sinking into your malleable mind as she fed you sips of water and scratched your scalp. 

Pretty little girl. You were hers now, and so was that fucking forest.

[thrashkink-coven]

The one major thing I’ve taken away from my couple days of arguing with Christians about abortion in the Bible is that they always must insist that I am saying these things because I want the Bible to agree with my views. I know this is only because they use the bible as justification for their views… but guys….

Babes,… I’m a fucking Luciferian. Come on. Why would I care about whether or not the Bible agrees with abortion? I’m obviously not following the Bible anyways. If i wanted a reason to justify my beliefs…I wouldn’t be using the Bible… because the Bible clearly does not follow my morality anyways.

I am a supreme lover or theology, history, and culture. I am far more interested in the followers of Christ than Christ himself. And likewise, I find the creation of the Bible fascinating. I think the evolution of Judaism to Christianity is one of the most interesting things in the world. I love humanity, far more than I care about its God. I want to know what values, characteristics, doctrine, they considered to be divine and projected onto their God. I only study the word of God so I can understand the human hands that wrote it.

When I say “the Bible never condemns abortion, here are some contextual pieces of history and scripture that clearly explore God’s perspective on fetal life” I’m not saying “look guys! The Bible is pro abortion and that means we all should be too!!! This totally proves me right about everything!!!”

because it simply doesn’t.

I woke up one morning with a curiosity: “How did people in antiquity regard abortion?” and the clear solution to that curiosity was to read the manual they created for their people. Turns out the manual isn’t all that conclusive, and would actually point towards a complex answer. Does that mean their views were correct, moral, or justified? I honestly don’t care! My opinions on their beliefs don’t matter! The only thing that matters was the intention of the people and the effect these intentions had on the people.

Whether or not the big G-D is truly against abortion could not be known to me, a mere pagan heathen. But what I will continue to say, because I know it to be true now that I’ve spent this much time researching it:

Abortion and/or intentional miscarriage is never at any point stated to be a sin in the Bible or any Biblical text. Never is abortion condemned in the Bible, never is any woman said to be sinning or going to hell for having an abortion or intentional miscarriage. Never at any point, ever, does God say abortion is a crime, and never at any point is it implied that abortion is murder. On the contrary, it is established that it is not.

There are pieces of scripture that clearly establish that the mother is of greater significance than the fetus, and people in antiquity did not consider an infant to be a full person until at its first breath at least, and usually only after a few months of life because of the fact that around 50% of newborns would die anyways. To terminate a thing that might not even live anyways was regarded far differently than killing a fully established person. Due to the increased risk of death during childbirth and the slim chance of newborn survival, it was very normal and common for women to induce intentional miscarriages to save their life. The only instance in which infanticide may have been considered the same as murder was only in the case of late term “abortions” where the fetus had a full form, and looked like a baby (which, we still do not do to this day. It’s illegal to have an abortion in the 9th month).

and to be extremely clear: Premature babies did not survive in antiquity. A premature birth was a still birth or miscarriage. When Exodus 21 says: “If people are fighting and hit a pregnant woman and she gives birth prematurely[a] but there is no serious injury, the offender must be fined whatever the woman’s husband demands and the court allows. 23 But if there is serious injury, you are to take life for life, 24 eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, 25 burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise.

they are referring to a miscarriage. That’s why on every single version of this verse you can find online and in most english translations there is always a footnote on the word “prematurely” that says “or miscarriage”

This isn’t some secret pro-choice agenda. This was the intended meaning of the text. Translators are not trying to support abortion, they are trying to support the intended truth.

Because the fetus was the property of the husband, the loss of the fetus would result in a fine paid to the husband. Further harm caused to the living mother was paid via execution if she died, or a hand for a hand, foot for foot etc. This is the most agreed upon interpretation that makes the most sense in accordance to the customs of the Jewish people and other laws of nearby nations in which Hebrews inhabited.

So, to conclude this shit show,

I don’t give a shit a fuck or a damn what YHWH thinks of abortion. I find the opinions and beliefs of his people to be far more interesting and historically significant. Based on their literature, we can get a pretty comprehensive view on their ideals when it came to this topic. Their ideals have absolutely nothing to do with mine nor do they add legitimacy to mine.

I just like theology guys lmfao

and you bet your ass that I’m going to take the time to do my research if there’s a chance that I accidentally shared misinformation (which I did! Numbers 5 are not instructions on how to do an abortion! That’s not the correct verse to use for this argument. That was totally my mistake.) In that research I only learned more about the ancient word that supports my original thesis.

and so, my original claim still remains true. The Bible does not condemn abortion. No biblical text ever condemns abortion, and God did not call it a sin.

💋

[13eyond13]

As much as it's easy to hate Light for killing L and gloating about it... idk what else choice he had really except to try to get rid of him permanently (in HIS OWN MIND, MIND YOU - not saying he had no choice but to do what he does as Kira, but in his own mind he couldn't go back on his decision after he began). Like, considering how ruthlessly L was investigating him / not ever even attempting to be nice or fair about it (like yeah, L WAS correct about Light being Kira and wanted to get concrete evidence for it, but L didn't KNOW that he was for sure yet) - and L's methods of investigation like the confinement and fake execution would probably be pretty traumatic ones to experience for Light, realistically. Heck, even the implications of things like Light knowing that L had got his dad to agree to putting zillions of illegal hidden cameras around their house would be disturbing ones to contemplate - not just because of the invasion of privacy, but because it would also prove to Light that his dad was bending his own morals to work with L, and that his dad really DID have some doubt about his innocence as well. I think Light's buried guilt and shame about actually being Kira, and his fear of deeply examining his own darker emotions, plus genuinely finding L's relentless antagonism flattering and entertaining to experience, held him back from really digging into any of that stuff onscreen a whole lot. But thinking about it does keep me from hating him for killing L as much as I might otherwise - like I don't 100% know what else he could've done to wriggle out from under L's thumb, and I also think that under all the mind-games and dark jokes they were playing on each other Light wasn't wrong to fear that L was trying to destroy his life in a very serious way. Light defines L inwardly to himself as someone who "doesn't know when to stop" or something at a certain point in the story, and I feel that's true... I think he mostly LIKES that aspect of L and often thinks it's interesting and fun, but also that he didn't really see any other way that things could end between them both.

[horny-deepspace]

PLEASURE

synopsis: The walls of the bedroom echo with the click of handcuffs being fastened, followed by silence… warnings: light bdsm, dom/sub wc: 2,2k

Chapter 1.

He will never refuse to crush your foundations and suppress your moral principles; squeeze your will into a fist and command it as he pleases - without any effort.

It is impossible to resist his magnetic, sexually arousing timbre of voice. Outwardly, he remains invariably serene, with flawless facial features. It is hard to believe that he is real, only his sarfir-red eyes make him alive.

You appear, prove your - correct point of view, read moralizing lectures. This is more like expressive attacks on your part, and from him - complete calm. He does not raise his voice. He expresses himself in a suggestible and convincing way, forcing you to surrender in the end. It is unclear how he manages to influence others. There is a high probability that the reason is Evol deadly force. You need to try to find him a worthy opponent. The head of Onychinus is respected and feared - according to the timeless classic.

He takes verbal attacks for irony, considering your past professional activity. Six months ago, he bought you out of the brothel. Since then, he has become your only Master. In fact, life has changed significantly, because everything is learned in comparison. With him, you do not need to be afraid of unfamiliar clients, guess what is on their minds. Sylus immediately made it clear what he expects from you. He told you about his preferences.

Nothing that happened between you was a revelation. You came across different clients ready to order exotic services for an additional fee.

The thread of trust with Sylus grew stronger day by day. Over time, you began to look forward to intimacy with him more and more often, while feeling even more completely safe. You know: he will cover you, will not let anyone hurt you. Even if it is about retribution, the price he paid for you, and his protection is just a pretense.

The bathroom door opens, releasing hot clouds of steam. You close your eyes. In advance, you mentally outline the silhouette of a strong, male body, with transparent droplets of water flowing down the muscles.

Any discussions are left far behind when unbridled passion flares up between you. So strong that nothing and no one can stop you. You are powerless against each other. It is akin to addiction. You are completely different, but the craving is irresistible - is it only on a physical level?

Or is it not just that?

When he is away for too long, you begin to yearn. Almost howl from helplessness and the desire to run wherever your eyes look, just to calm your heart again. Self-hypnosis almost never works: neither promises to break up with him, that their new meeting is definitely now the last; not confessions that you bite your fist until it marks, holding back desperate moans through the pain.

You need him.

Needed. More than air.

Life without it has long ceased to seem significant…

It is dusk outside. The weather in Zone N109 is consistently gloomy. The path for travelers is illuminated by a bloody moon, high in the sky in a fog of clouds, through which the warm rays caressing the skin do not penetrate.

Once a bustling technology center, this is now, after the catastrophe that occurred, one of the most dangerous areas. Surrounded by other forbidden zones, this "island" has turned into a lawless land where danger and opportunity coexist. The Zone is rife with violence and crime. Due to illegal trade and dangerous research, many of its activities are associated with protocors and Wanderers.

But everything seems very far away when you are in his arms.

He approaches you from behind, barely touching, drawing abstract patterns along your spine until he reaches your lower back. You want to step back, press yourself against his chest and stand there until dawn, which will not come. Today you don’t really want to swear, because it’s a useless exercise. The worst thing is to try to remake a person to your own rules, to deprive him of his own “I”.

- You won.

- I know, - he only says in a whisper. There is no mockery in his intonation.

Long fingers, exciting the imagination, climb under the unbuttoned shirt, under which you are wearing only panties and a leather harness on your chest. You like to wear men's shirts, sweaters and accessories: to remember his warmth, the smell of perfume. At least this way you can not part, keeping the memories.

With a slight movement, Sylus turns you to face him. You slip your finger under the belt of the towel, hinting at an extra piece of clothing, to which Sylus raises an eyebrow questioningly. Finally, his lips twist into a smug grin. There is no need to rush, you have the whole night at your disposal, except for those days when the man is present at important meetings and negotiations.

Humility will pay off in full.

The costs of the profession do not disappear without a trace. In the brothel, the owner expected productive work from the prostitutes: the more clients, the more income. The slaves themselves received just enough to keep from starving to death.

You are incredibly lucky to be freed, when hundreds of the same weak-willed slaves are still languishing in the brothel. Asking for a big favor is a thankless task. You have already received everything: the best lover who can provide for your life exactly until the end of the term of need. If he wants, it seems that he has the power to close the brothel, only in place of one establishment another will appear. This is an endless struggle between evil and evil.

Those same fingers that you can’t stop dreaming about, grasp your thin wrist with traces of abrasions and bruises that have not yet disappeared.

- Put it behind your back.

Your breath catches from the realization of what will happen next. Sylus goes to the chest of drawers with clothes. The top drawer contains his special toys. The cold metal of the handcuffs gleams in the dim light of the lamps. Breathe, just breathe. You obediently move your hands back and clasp them in a lock. The tall, blond figure walks past you, then stops behind you, out of sight.

The click of cuffs echoes off the bedroom walls, and then there's silence. Sylus walks around you, coming back to face you. His dark lashes flutter. Without realizing it, you're staring at him, taking in every inch of him: the smooth curves of his brows, the thick lashes, the neat nose, the sensual lips.

The man's gaze lifts, and his eyebrows rise, giving him an innocent look. A minute passes, maybe two. It's hard to tell. Reality swirls around you as you fall into his eyes. Your thoughts are naked. You have no intention of hiding your desires.

You watch with agonizing anticipation as he takes the metal chain attached to your choker at the other end and threads the carabiner through the ring on his collar, symbolizing a single bond.

Sylus advances on you until he collides with the wall. Your shoulders shake. Your heart starts pounding, but you don't panic. Thanks to his mercy, you're probably still alive. With that - the past lifestyle, girls don't grow old, especially in Zone N109.

This debt is indefinite. Never to be repaid.

- Sweetheart, if you don't want to...

- I remembered the past at the wrong time, - you brush away the rapidly running tears on your cheeks. - I owe you all...

He puts a finger to your lips, urging you to shut up, to which you nod in agreement and throw your leg over his waist. There should be no reason for sadness today or tomorrow. With ease, the man grabs you by the armpits and lifts you off the ground, allowing you to wrap both legs around him, because there is nothing else to hold on to.

Sylus is your support. A gift from fate.

- Forgive me.

This time he silences you with a kiss, punishing you by pressing your lips together and depriving you of the rest of your air. His hand pulls the chain down, bringing your chest closer to his.

- Think of us.

Sylus's deep, low voice makes you smile tenderly. His rough tongue licks the salty tracks of tears. You will only cry from the highest degree of pleasure, because he swore: "I'll be damned if I don't get my way."

[kittenintheden]

y'all are making my blood pressure spike during my fun time so I am gonna do this one time and one time only. some notes.

a "safe space" is a space that is set aside for a community to be amongst like-minded peers with shared experiences and have discussions about the things that affect them away from another group who might harm them. it is not and cannot be a public forum that invites public discussion. that's not what a safe space is.

being a dick on anon only makes you a dick. that's it. there's no other explanation or reasoning. that is across. the. board.

the size of a person's following does not make them more or less of a person than you and it absolutely does not ever make you morally correct for being a complete asshole to them.

you don't know who 95% of people are behind the screen. you don't know their work, their experience, their emotional space, their relationships, whatever. you are seeing the tiniest slice of their life. you don't get to make broad assumptions based on that small slice.

if someone would like to charge money for absolutely anything they want to charge money for, so long as it is not illegal or objectively shitty, it's not your business unless you would like to partake in the thing. that is really all there is to it.

I like to think the content of my character and my actions speak for me, but you can make up whatever narrative you like. I guess. I am really only here to have a good time and be as silly as I feel like. this is my fun time. I plan to keep it that way. I am not here for the whatever vs whatever fan wars and mostly I like to pretend they don't exist. I am not interested.

that's all. there's nothing more to it than that.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Ello!! Is it alright if I request a vamp! Fem or gender neutral reader with Vanitas?? I have a small prompt. The two bicker alot, but what happens when the reader gets injured and refuses to drink blood to help themselves, and Vanitas is genuinely worried about them?? Sorry if this is too long. Have a wonderful day/night!!

They had barely made it out with their heads still on. [Y/N] barricading the door while Vanitas looked for something to make it more secure. “There. That should hold it.” He announced, with a slight pant, after he had shoved a bookcase, two end tables, and any other junk he could find in this abandoned shack of a villa to keep the Curse Bearer at bay.

“I’ve never seen one act so violently.” [Y/N] replied. Their eyes still bright red from the fight. As crimson as the blood staining their shirt where they had sliced them with their great, sharp spines.

“Yeah. I don’t think we’ll be able to save this one.” Vanitas commented solemnly. “We’ll have to get its name back to stop it, but the chances of them coming out seem pretty low.”

[Y/N] sighed, afraid of that but aware of the outcome, then swayed a little as they took a step to sit down. “You ok?”

“Yes. Just a little light headed.” They replied.

“You’re still bleeding, hn?” Vanitas commented. Following behind them as they sat down. “I thought you would have healed up by now.”

“So did I. The fight and flight must have taken a lot out of me.” Vampire were incredibly resilient, but had their limitations. Fatigue, hunger, overexertion, could lead to a decline in the healing process, like any living thing. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem for [Y/N], and they would take the slow path to getting better. However, the situation they were in was not one best suited for ‘the slow path’. Their enemy could find them at any minute. It wouldn’t take much to break down their barricade and slaughter them if they wanted. They would need to get out of here, quickly, if they wanted to survive.

“Do you want me to help you?” Vanitas asked. To which [Y/N] scoffed.

“I didn’t know you knew first aid.”

“No I mean….”

He began to gesture awkwardly. It took [Y/N] a minute to realize what he was ‘saying’ and when they realized they were shocked. “I’m not drinking your blood Vanitas.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?!” They repeated. Shocked further that they would even ask such a question. “Because aside from it being illegal, it’s also incredibly inappropriate and….intimate.”

“It’s only illegal if I say no.” Vanitas corrected them. “And I’m offering it to you. Look, do you want to get out of here or not?”

“I think we can get out of here without me resorting to barbarism.” [Y/N] retorted. Voices getting raised.

“Yeah, cause you did a fine job of getting us out of here earlier.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you couldn’t get us out of here when you were at top percent at the start. Now you’re injured! And you think you’re just magically going to help get us out of here with your positive attitude and morals!”

“You were in my way! I didn’t see you helping any back there!”

“That’s why I’m helping now!” Vantias hand smacked against the wall behind their head. His usually slim frame suddenly towered over [Y/N] in an intimidating way, as he pulled back his bow tie & shirt to expose his neck. “Take my blood!”

[Y/N] sat there in surprise. Their face flush at the situation, but also with the hammering sound of their heartbeat in their ears. It had been years since they had had fresh blood. They really did mean it when they said they thought it was barbarism. But there was a part of them, deep down, that always would crave it. A base instinct that lingered under the surface. A dark whisper, almost like Naenia’s, that beckoned them to take his blood.

Slowly, shyly, they leaned forward towards Vanitas’s neck. To his credit, he did not move. In fact he only flinched a little bit when their fangs pierced his skin. The warm, rich flow of blood trickled down their tongue and down their throat. Making them feel like they had never been warm in their life until this moment.

They suddenly realized why some rouge vampires became addicted to this. They suddenly realized what all the fuss was about.

“T-That’s enough [Y/N]…” Vanitas called out to them and pushed [Y/N] back. His turn to swoon a little bit now. “It won’t do us any good if I can’t walk out of here now.”

“Oh…I guess you’re right….” They suddenly felt embarrassed that they had lost themselves in the moment. Then they looked down and realized that all their injuries were healed. “I think I’m all right now. Better even. Better than new.”

“That’s nice.” Vanitas replied, before he slumped down beside them. “I just need to sit for a bit. Then we can try to make a break for it.”

“I’m sorry. Did I….-“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Vanitas butt in. “I just need to sit for a minute.”

They sat in silence. Listening to the stone flinch around them in their cubby hole. It was the quietest moment they had never had together. They never spoke of what happened again.

[midwestbae]

My thoughts on Arcane and 2024 reality

I’m rewatching Arcane for the 6th time and episode 3 from s1 is unbearably heartbreaking. Literally children are experiencing the most traumatic experiences that anyone could ever imagine.

The saddest thing is that children are actually living things like this rn. Capitalism, white supremacism and just everything that came from greed is the worst.

Free Palestine y’all, and fuck CEOS, the consuls of our reality. In episode 5-s1 they actually talked about having illegal business, but they just despise the undercity because they are not morally correct and they do sketchy things., because Piltover put them in that position.

If the system pushes hard enough, they will have reactionary people, like Jinx, like Silco, like Luigi, etc. I think season 2 missed the opportunity of having an actual revolution, cuz the people of the undercity deserved one. Having Sevika in the table won’t change the systemic class problem the city had have for decades.

[thatshirleylee]

brennan's statement on instagram

I'm calling on my government officials to immediately demand a ceasefire and de-escalation in Gaza.

I applaud anyone and everyone calling for peace, with the understanding that real peace only exists if it deeply and honestly accounts for and fully ends violence in all its forms. Real peace addresses and corrects wrong-doing in the past and guards against it in the future. It goes hand in hand with justice and requires truth, restoration, reconciliation, reparation.

Peace cannot co-exist with collective punishment, ethnic cleansing and forced displacement. It cannot co-exist with blockades, embargoes, or with 2.2 million people, half of which are children, trapped with no hope of escape or political recourse. It cannot co-exist with murdered journalists, bombed hospitals, or years of protesters being shot and killed at the border. It cannot co-exist with illegal settlements segregated roads, and the silent, imperial chill that settles over the gaps in the yiolence - the unspoken geopolitical consensus that a group of people need to unflinchingly accept permanent subjugation and occupation.

My heart breaks for every Israeli person who lost loved ones during the attacks of October 7th. It breaks for every Ukrainian person who has lost their loved ones. It breaks for every Congolese person who has lost their loved ones. I do not speak on behalf of Palestinians now because some lives are worth more than others. I speak on their behalf because, as an American, my government is actively championing and financially funding their mass slaughter and forced displacement.I speak on their behalf because l, and all Americans, have a responsibility to pressure our government because we are responsible for this. Some have said that this situation is complicated. The United States government clearly disagrees. It has definitively, categorically, militarily chosen a side, and I do not agree with that decision.

In writing this, I have been wrestling with what I am sure many people like me wrestle with: There is a powerful narrative surrounding violence in the Middle East that asserts an ever-moving goalpost of self-education and study in order to even be qualified to have an opinion. As someone with a love of research, I have at times in my life fallen into the trap that I am not educated enough, clever enough or aware enough to have a worthwhile perspective, and that three more articles and two more lectures and one more book will do the trick. Unfortunately, democracy doesn't work that way - we, the citizens of any democracy, cannot possibly be experts on every aspect of the policies of our governments, and yet if we do not weigh in and make our voices heard, the entire experiment falls apart. Not only do people constantly doubt themselves and the things they can see with their own two eyes, but old shortcuts for political action can fall apart as well: This specific issue exists along a raw, charged and unique faultline in American politics. Nobody I grew up with has ever challenged me on my support for abortion rights, LGBT rights, Black Lives Matter, anti-capitalism, anti-fascism, none of it. The people in my country who would despise me for those positions are, for all intents and purposes, strangers to me. But there are people who l've broken bread with and shared honest affection with who will see the words l've written here and incorrectly conclude that I do not wish for the security, dignity and happiness of them and their loved ones, and that breaks my fucking heart. Full-throatedly condemning the actions of the Israeli government while battling rampant anti-semitism at home is an urgent moral necessity, and doing so is made unnecessarily challenging for the average person to navigate by the pointed obfuscations of cynical opportunists, bigots, and demagogues on all sides of the political spectrum who see some advantage in sowing that incredibly dangerous confusion.

So, I'm calling my representatives. I'm having hard conversations with friends and family. I'm here, talking to you. I should have done it sooner. If you're Israeli and hurt by this statement, know that I want freedom, dignity, security and peace for you, and that every ounce of my political awareness believes whole-heartedly that the actions of your government are not only destroying innocent lives, but doing so to the detriment of you and your loved ones' safety. If you're American and feel lost and confused - I understand and empathize. This, the whole country, only works when we get involved. I am constantly haunted by the specter that maybe I have missed some crucial piece of information on this, or any, important world event: I'Il just have to make my peace with that self-doubt and trust my gut by going with Jewish Voice for Peace, Amnesty International, the Geneva Conventions, the United Nations, etc. And if you're Palestinian and reading this: I unreservedly support your right to life, to freedom, to happiness and human flourishing, to full enfranchisement and equal rights, to opportunity, prosperity and abundance, to the restoration of stolen property and land, and to a Free Palestine.

[bitkahuna]

“Harry, the information you’ve given us, while we believe you, has to be verifiable in order to do anything about it.” Arthur explained.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “To do something, what, legally?” He blinked. “Like, getting the Ministry involved?"

“Frankly, yes.” Arthur nodded. “If we can bring Crouch Jr. in on something serious enough to warrant the use of a truth serum, we could get everything we need to make arrests and search the Crouch residence."

-----

“What do you think of a sleepover?”

“A sleepover? In Grimmauld Place?” Ron grinned.

“Yea.”

“Mate, this place is like a fucking legend for us. You don’t just get invited to Grimmauld Place, home of the most noble and ancient House of Black.” He said the last part in a somewhat mocking tone of how House Black used to refer to themselves.

“Now home to Sirius Black, a werewolf, and me.”

“I think it’d be awesome. Who would you invite?”

“Us, obviously. Maybe ‘Mione and Luna. She and I need to go buy formalwear together anyway. If we’re inviting them, then we ought to invite Ginny, cause I think it would be weird if Luna was the only person younger than us. But then we might as well ask Neville, Dean, and Seamus."

-----

“You want me to use dark arts.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A tired one.

‘To make him known is to delve into the very essence of his being.’

With that, Ianthe interjected, “I’ve had many powerful masters. Last I remember such magics were theoretical.”

‘The foundations of which are proven. ’ Those illusory eyes turned to Harry. ‘Recently proven.’

The boy tensed, looking between the two. “What have I done?”

-----

First, he was denied knowledge for fear he would become a dark wizard. Now he has to in order to hunt Horcruxes. Was he becoming a monster? He got Professor Quirrell killed, killed the basilisk, encouraged Sirius to kill Peter. But the good killing, killing the Horcruxes, he outsourced. Moaning Myrtle destroyed the diary and Kreacher destroyed the locket. Why had he only done the bad killing? Sure, Sirius was the one to actually kill Peter, but Harry still encouraged it. Harry insisted on staying. He saw Peter’s dead body.

Maybe this was it, then.

Maybe he was made for the scars. Maybe he was made for the evil. Harry Potter was a vessel for all the darkness required to end this war, so everyone else could stay in the light. He could eat it, swallow it whole, and become it. Become the darkness to bring the dawn.

-----

Harry sighed, sitting back down. He thought back to when Ashterah said she didn’t want to train the next Dark Lord. He remembered everything she said afterward; the thin line between miracles and horrors, would he take everything he wanted if he could, that he should be afraid. “You’ve been debating this for a while, haven’t you?”

‘I’ve thought it necessary since summer but never wanted it to come to this.’

“Dark magic is corrupting.” He spoke in a feeble argument. “It turns people weak and hideous.” He’d been taught on several occasions the effects the dark arts can have on people. Some argued those were just rumors, but he knew it was true. He’d seen two separate books in the Restricted Section on how to reverse the physical deterioration that comes from dark magic use. He’s also heard plenty of complaints on Knockturn Alley, where there was a flowering counterfeit beauty potions market.

“Evil turns them weak and hideous.” Ianthe corrected. “Weak will turn inquiring minds to greed and hate; this malice leads to evil.”

“It’s illegal.” Harry muttered.

‘Only if you use it for evil, Harry. I cannot promise you will not kill, but you will find law and morals are oft cast aside in war.’

Harry sighed, feeling a tear fall from his eye as he came to a decision. “They have to be, don’t they?”

-----

Just posted!! Things went a bit differently at the Triwizard Tournament, allowing Harry and his allies a shot at getting Barty Crouch Jr. arrested before the 3rd task. Now, during Yule break, Harry grapples with the fact that he''ll have to do something drastic to survive whatever has been planned for that final task.

Also, Yule is coming up and Harry is 1000% going to kiss Draco again because I can't physically stop