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With Great Power Came No Responsibility

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in NYC TONIGHT (26 Feb) with JOHN HODGMAN and at PENN STATE TOMORROW (Feb 27). More tour dates here. Mail-order signed copies from LA's Diesel Books.

Last night, I traveled to Toronto to deliver the annual Ursula Franklin Lecture at the University of Toronto's Innis College:

The lecture was called "With Great Power Came No Responsibility: How Enshittification Conquered the 21st Century and How We Can Overthrow It." It's the latest major speech in my series of talks on the subject, which started with last year's McLuhan Lecture in Berlin:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

And continued with a summer Defcon keynote:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/17/hack-the-planet/#how-about-a-nice-game-of-chess

This speech specifically addresses the unique opportunities for disenshittification created by Trump's rapid unscheduled midair disassembly of the international free trade system. The US used trade deals to force nearly every country in the world to adopt the IP laws that make enshittification possible, and maybe even inevitable. As Trump burns these trade deals to the ground, the rest of the world has an unprecedented opportunity to retaliate against American bullying by getting rid of these laws and producing the tools, devices and services that can protect every tech user (including Americans) from being ripped off by US Big Tech companies.

I'm so grateful for the chance to give this talk. I was hosted for the day by the Centre for Culture and Technology, which was founded by Marshall McLuhan, and is housed in the coach house he used for his office. The talk itself took place in Innis College, named for Harold Innis, who is definitely the thinking person's Marshall McLuhan. What's more, I was mentored by Innis's daughter, Anne Innis Dagg, a radical, brilliant feminist biologist who pretty much invented the field of giraffology:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/02/19/pluralist-19-feb-2020/#annedagg

But with all respect due to Anne and her dad, Ursula Franklin is the thinking person's Harold Innis. A brilliant scientist, activist and communicator who dedicated her life to the idea that the most important fact about a technology wasn't what it did, but who it did it for and who it did it to. Getting to work out of McLuhan's office to present a talk in Innis's theater that was named after Franklin? Swoon!

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

Here's the text of the talk, lightly edited:

I know tonight’s talk is supposed to be about decaying tech platforms, but I want to start by talking about nurses.

A January 2025 report from Groundwork Collective documents how increasingly nurses in the USA are hired through gig apps – "Uber for nurses” – so nurses never know from one day to the next whether they're going to work, or how much they'll get paid.

There's something high-tech going on here with those nurses' wages. These nursing apps – a cartel of three companies, Shiftkey, Shiftmed and Carerev – can play all kinds of games with labor pricing.

Before Shiftkey offers a nurse a shift, it purchases that worker's credit history from a data-broker. Specifically, it pays to find out how much credit-card debt the nurse is carrying, and whether it is overdue.

The more desperate the nurse's financial straits are, the lower the wage on offer. Because the more desperate you are, the less you'll accept to come and do the gruntwork of caring for the sick, the elderly, and the dying.

Now, there are lots of things going on here, and they're all terrible. What's more, they are emblematic of “enshittification,” the word I coined to describe the decay of online platforms.

When I first started writing about this, I focused on the external symptology of enshittification, a three stage process:

First, the platform is good to its end users, while finding a way to lock them in.

Like Google, which minimized ads and maximized spending on engineering for search results, even as they bought their way to dominance, bribing every service or product with a search box to make it a Google search box.

So no matter what browser you used, what mobile OS you used, what carrier you had, you would always be searching on Google by default. This got so batshit that by the early 2020s, Google was spending enough money to buy a whole-ass Twitter, every year or two, just to make sure that no one ever tried a search engine that wasn't Google.

That's stage one: be good to end users, lock in end users.

Stage two is when the platform starts to abuse end users to tempt in and enrich business customers. For Google, that’s advertisers and web publishers. An ever-larger fraction of a Google results page is given over to ads, which are marked with ever-subtler, ever smaller, ever grayer labels. Google uses its commercial surveillance data to target ads to us.

So that's stage two: things get worse for end users and get better for business customers.

But those business customers also get locked into the platform, dependent on those customers. Once businesses are getting as little as 10% of their revenue from Google, leaving Google becomes an existential risk. We talk a lot about Google's "monopoly" power, which is derived from its dominance as a seller. But Google is also a monopsony, a powerful buyer.

So now you have Google acting as a monopolist to its users (stage one), and a monoposonist for its business customers (stage two) and here comes stage three: where Google claws back all the value in the platform, save a homeopathic residue calculated to keep end users locked in, and business customers locked to those end users.

Google becomes enshittified.

In 2019, Google had a turning point. Search had grown as much as it possibly could. More than 90% of us used Google for search, and we searched for everything. Any thought or idle question that crossed our minds, we typed into Google.

How could Google grow? There were no more users left to switch to Google. We weren't going to search for more things. What could Google do?

Well, thanks to internal memos published during last year's monopoly trial against Google, we know what they did. They made search worse. They reduced the system's accuracy it so you had to search twice or more to get to the answer, thus doubling the number of queries, and doubling the number of ads.

Meanwhile, Google entered into a secret, illegal collusive arrangement with Facebook, codenamed Jedi Blue, to rig the ad market, fixing prices so advertisers paid more and publishers got less.

And that's how we get to the enshittified Google of today, where every query serves back a blob of AI slop, over five paid results tagged with the word AD in 8-point, 10% grey on white type, which is, in turn, over ten spammy links from SEO shovelware sites filled with more AI slop.

And yet, we still keep using Google, because we're locked into it. That's enshittification, from the outside. A company that's good to end users, while locking them in. Then it makes things worse for end users, to make things better for business customers, while locking them in. Then it takes all the value for itself and turns into a giant pile of shit.

Enshittification, a tragedy in three acts.

I started off focused on the outward signs of enshittification, but I think it's time we start thinking about what's going in inside the companies to make enshittification possible.

What is the technical mechanism for enshittification? I call it twiddling. Digital businesses have infinite flexibility, bequeathed to them by the marvellously flexible digital computers they run on. That means that firms can twiddle the knobs that control the fundamental aspects of their business. Every time you interact with a firm, everything is different: prices, costs, search rankings, recommendations.

Which takes me back to our nurses. This scam, where you look up the nurse's debt load and titer down the wage you offer based on it in realtime? That's twiddling. It's something you can only do with a computer. The bosses who are doing this aren't more evil than bosses of yore, they just have better tools.

Note that these aren't even tech bosses. These are health-care bosses, who happen to have tech.

Digitalization – weaving networked computers through a firm or a sector – enables this kind of twiddling that allows firms to shift value around, from end users to business customers, from business customers back to end users, and eventually, inevitably, to themselves.

And digitalization is coming to every sector – like nursing. Which means enshittification is coming to every sector – like nursing.

The legal scholar Veena Dubal coined a term to describe the twiddling that suppresses the wages of debt-burdened nurses. It's called "Algorithmic Wage Discrimination," and it follows the gig economy.

The gig economy is a major locus of enshittification, and it’s the largest tear in the membrane separating the virtual world from the real world. Gig work, where your shitty boss is a shitty app, and you aren't even allowed to call yourself an employee.

Uber invented this trick. Drivers who are picky about the jobs the app puts in front of them start to get higher wage offers. But if they yield to temptation and take some of those higher-waged option, then the wage starts to go down again, in random intervals, by small increments, designed to be below the threshold for human perception. Not so much boiling the frog as poaching it, until the Uber driver has gone into debt to buy a new car, and given up the side hustles that let them be picky about the rides they accepted. Then their wage goes down, and down, and down.

Twiddling is a crude trick done quickly. Any task that's simple but time consuming is a prime candidate for automation, and this kind of wage-theft would be unbearably tedious, labor-intensive and expensive to perform manually. No 19th century warehouse full of guys with green eyeshades slaving over ledgers could do this. You need digitalization.

Twiddling nurses' hourly wages is a perfect example of the role digitization pays in enshittification. Because this kind of thing isn't just bad for nurses – it's bad for patients, too. Do we really think that paying nurses based on how desperate they are, at a rate calculated to increase that desperation, and thus decrease the wage they are likely to work for, is going to result in nurses delivering the best care?

Do you want to your catheter inserted by a nurse on food stamps, who drove an Uber until midnight the night before, and skipped breakfast this morning in order to make rent?

This is why it’s so foolish to say "If you're not paying for the product, you're the product." “If you’re not paying for the product” ascribes a mystical power to advertising-driven services: the power to bypass our critical faculties by surveilling us, and data-mining the resulting dossiers to locate our mental bind-spots, and weaponize them to get us to buy anything an advertiser is selling.

In this formulation, we are complicit in our own exploitation. By choosing to use "free" services, we invite our own exploitation by surveillance capitalists who have perfected a mind-control ray powered by the surveillance data we're voluntarily handing over by choosing ad-driven services.

The moral is that if we only went back to paying for things, instead of unrealistically demanding that everything be free, we would restore capitalism to its functional, non-surveillant state, and companies would start treating us better, because we'd be the customers, not the products.

That's why the surveillance capitalism hypothesis elevates companies like Apple as virtuous alternatives. Because Apple charges us money, rather than attention, it can focus on giving us better service, rather than exploiting us.

There's a superficially plausible logic to this. After all, in 2022, Apple updated its iOS operating system, which runs on iPhones and other mobile devices, introducing a tick box that allowed you to opt out of third-party surveillance, most notably Facebook’s.

96% of Apple customers ticked that box. The other 4% were, presumably drunk, or Facebook employees, or Facebook employees who were drunk. Which makes sense, because if I worked for Facebook, I'd be drunk all the time.

So on the face of it, it seems like Apple isn't treating its customers like "the product." But simultaneously with this privacy measure, Apple was secretly turning on its own surveillance system for iPhone owners, which would spy on them in exactly the way Facebook had, for exactly the same purpose: to target ads to you based on the places you'd been, the things you'd searched for, the communications you'd had, the links you'd clicked.

Apple didn't ask its customers for permission to spy on them. It didn't let opt out of this spying. It didn’t even tell them about it, and when it was caught, Apple lied about it.

It goes without saying that the $1000 Apple distraction rectangle in your pocket is something you paid for. The fact that you've paid for it doesn't stop Apple from treating you as the product. Apple treats its business customers – app vendors – like the product, screwing them out of 30 cents on every dollar they bring in, with mandatory payment processing fees that are 1,000% higher than the already extortionate industry norm.

Apple treats its end users – people who shell out a grand for a phone – like the product, spying on them to help target ads to them.

Apple treats everyone like the product.

This is what's going on with our gig-app nurses: the nurses are the product. The patients are the product. The hospitals are the product. In enshittification, "the product" is anyone who can be productized.

Fair and dignified treatment is not something you get as a customer loyalty perk, in exchange for parting with your money, rather than your attention. How do you get fair and dignified treatment? Well, I'm gonna get to that, but let's stay with our nurses for a while first.

The nurses are the product, and they're being twiddled, because they've been conscripted into the tech industry, via the digitalization of their own industry.

It's tempting to blame digitalization for this. But tech companies were not born enshittified. They spent years – decades – making pleasing products. If you're old enough to remember the launch of Google, you'll recall that, at the outset, Google was magic.

You could Ask Jeeves questions for a million years, you could load up Altavista with ten trillion boolean search operators meant to screen out low-grade results, and never come up with answers as crisp, as useful, as helpful, as the ones you'd get from a few vaguely descriptive words in a Google search-bar.

There's a reason we all switched to Google. Why so many of us bought iPhones. Why we joined our friends on Facebook. All of these services were born digital. They could have enshittified at any time. But they didn't – until they did. And they did it all at once.

If you were a nurse, and every patient that staggered into the ER had the same dreadful symptoms, you'd call the public health department and report a suspected outbreak of a new and dangerous epidemic.

Ursula Franklin held that technology's outcomes were not preordained. They are the result of deliberate choices. I like that very much, it's a very science fictional way of thinking about technology. Good science fiction isn't merely about what the technology does, but who it does it for, and who it does it to.

Those social factors are far more important than the mere technical specifications of a gadget. They're the difference between a system that warns you when you're about to drift out of your lane, and a system that tells your insurer that you nearly drifted out of your lane, so they can add $10 to your monthly premium.

They’re the difference between a spell checker that lets you know you've made a typo, and bossware that lets your manager use the number of typos you made this quarter so he can deny your bonus.

They’re the difference between an app that remembers where you parked your car, and an app that uses the location of your car as a criteria for including you in a reverse warrant for the identities of everyone in the vicinity of an anti-government protest.

I believe that enshittification is caused by changes not to technology, but to the policy environment. These are changes to the rules of the game, undertaken in living memory, by named parties, who were warned at the time about the likely outcomes of their actions, who are today very rich and respected, and face no consequences or accountability for their role in ushering in the enshittocene. They venture out into polite society without ever once wondering if someone is sizing them up for a pitchfork.

In other words: I think we created a crimogenic environment, a perfect breeding pool for the most pathogenic practices in our society, that have therefore multiplied, dominating decision-making in our firms and states, leading to a vast enshittening of everything.

And I think there's good news there, because if enshittification isn't the result a new kind of evil person, or the great forces of history bearing down on the moment to turn everything to shit, but rather the result of specific policy choices, then we can reverse those policies, make better ones and emerge from the enshittocene, consigning the enshitternet to the scrapheap of history, a mere transitional state between the old, good internet, and a new, good internet.

I'm not going to talk about AI today, because oh my god is AI a boring, overhyped subject. But I will use a metaphor about AI, about the limited liability company, which is a kind of immortal, artificial colony organism in which human beings serve as a kind of gut flora. My colleague Charlie Stross calls corporations "slow AI.”

So you've got these slow AIs whose guts are teeming with people, and the AI's imperative, the paperclip it wants to maximize, is profit. To maximize profits, you charge as much as you can, you pay your workers and suppliers as little as you can, you spend as little as possible on safety and quality.

Every dollar you don't spend on suppliers, workers, quality or safety is a dollar that can go to executives and shareholders. So there's a simple model of the corporation that could maximize its profits by charging infinity dollars, while paying nothing to its workers or suppliers, and ignoring quality and safety.

But that corporation wouldn't make any money, for the obvious reasons that none of us would buy what it was selling, and no one would work for it or supply it with goods. These constraints act as disciplining forces that tamp down the AI's impulse to charge infinity and pay nothing.

In tech, we have four of these constraints, anti-enshittificatory sources of discipline that make products and services better, pay workers more, and keep executives’ and shareholders' wealth from growing at the expense of customers, suppliers and labor.

The first of these constraints is markets. All other things being equal, a business that charges more and delivers less will lose customers to firms that are more generous about sharing value with workers, customers and suppliers.

This is the bedrock of capitalist theory, and it's the ideological basis for competition law, what our American cousins call "antitrust law."

The first antitrust law was 1890's Sherman Act, whose sponsor, Senator John Sherman, stumped for it from the senate floor, saying:

If we will not endure a King as a political power we should not endure a King over the production, transportation, and sale of the necessaries of life. If we would not submit to an emperor we should not submit to an autocrat of trade with power to prevent competition and to fix the price of any commodity.

Senator Sherman was reflecting the outrage of the anitmonopolist movement of the day, when proprietors of monopolistic firms assumed the role of dictators, with the power to decide who would work, who would starve, what could be sold, and what it cost.

Lacking competitors, they were too big to fail, too big to jail, and too big to care. As Lily Tomlin used to put it in her spoof AT&T ads on SNL: "We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company.”

So what happened to the disciplining force of competition? We killed it. Starting 40-some years ago, the Reagaonomic views of the Chicago School economists transformed antitrust. They threw out John Sherman's idea that we need to keep companies competitive to prevent the emergence of "autocrats of trade,"and installed the idea that monopolies are efficient.

In other words, if Google has a 90% search market share, which it does, then we must infer that Google is the best search engine ever, and the best search engine possible. The only reason a better search engine hasn't stepped in is that Google is so skilled, so efficient, that there is no conceivable way to improve upon it.

We can tell that Google is the best because it has a monopoly, and we can tell that the monopoly is good because Google is the best.

So 40 years ago, the US – and its major trading partners – adopted an explicitly pro-monopoly competition policy.

Now, you'll be glad to hear that this isn't what happened to Canada. The US Trade Rep didn't come here and force us to neuter our competition laws. But don't get smug! The reason that didn't happen is that it didn't have to. Because Canada had no competition law to speak of, and never has.

In its entire history, the Competition Bureau has challenged three mergers, and it has halted precisely zero mergers, which is how we've ended up with a country that is beholden to the most mediocre plutocrats imaginable like the Irvings, the Westons, the Stronachs, the McCains and the Rogerses.

The only reason these chinless wonders were able to conquer this country Is that the Americans had been crushing their monopolists before they could conquer the US and move on to us. But 40 years ago, the rest of the world adopted the Chicago School's pro-monopoly "consumer welfare standard,” and we got…monopolies.

Monopolies in pharma, beer, glass bottles, vitamin C, athletic shoes, microchips, cars, mattresses, eyeglasses, and, of course, professional wrestling.

Remember: these are specific policies adopted in living memory, by named individuals, who were warned, and got rich, and never faced consequences. The economists who conceived of these policies are still around today, polishing their fake Nobel prizes, teaching at elite schools, making millions consulting for blue-chip firms.

When we confront them with the wreckage their policies created, they protest their innocence, maintaining – with a straight face – that there's no way to affirmatively connect pro-monopoly policies with the rise of monopolies.

It's like we used to put down rat poison and we didn't have a rat problem. Then these guys made us stop, and now rats are chewing our faces off, and they're making wide innocent eyes, saying, "How can you be sure that our anti-rat-poison policies are connected to global rat conquest? Maybe this is simply the Time of the Rat! Maybe sunspots caused rats to become more fecund than at any time in history! And if they bought the rat poison factories and shut them all down, well, so what of it? Shutting down rat poison factories after you've decided to stop putting down rat poison is an economically rational, Pareto-optimal decision."

Markets don't discipline tech companies because they don't compete with rivals, they buy them. That's a quote, from Mark Zuckerberg: “It is better to buy than to compete.”

Which is why Mark Zuckerberg bought Instagram for a billion dollars, even though it only had 12 employees and 25m users. As he wrote in a spectacularly ill-advised middle-of-the-night email to his CFO, he had to buy Instagram, because Facebook users were leaving Facebook for Instagram. By buying Instagram, Zuck ensured that anyone who left Facebook – the platform – would still be a prisoner of Facebook – the company.

Despite the fact that Zuckerberg put this confession in writing, the Obama administration let him go ahead with the merger, because every government, of every political stripe, for 40 years, adopted the posture that monopolies were efficient.

Now, think about our twiddled, immiserated nurses. Hospitals are among the most consolidated sectors in the US. First, we deregulated pharma mergers, and the pharma companies gobbled each other up at the rate of naughts, and they jacked up the price of drugs. So hospitals also merged to monopoly, a defensive maneuver that let a single hospital chain corner the majority of a region or city and say to the pharma companies, "either you make your products cheaper, or you can't sell them to any of our hospitals."

Of course, once this mission was accomplished, the hospitals started screwing the insurers, who staged their own incestuous orgy, buying and merging until most Americans have just three or two insurance options. This let the insurers fight back against the hospitals, but left patients and health care workers defenseless against the consolidated power of hospitals, pharma companies, pharmacy benefit managers, group purchasing organizations, and other health industry cartels, duopolies and monopolies.

Which is why nurses end up signing on to work for hospitals that use these ghastly apps. Remember, there's just three of these apps, replacing dozens of staffing agencies that once competed for nurses' labor.

Meanwhile, on the patient side, competition has never exercised discipline. No one ever shopped around for a cheaper ambulance or a better ER while they were having a heart attack. The price that people are willing to pay to not die is “everything they have.”

So you have this sector that has no business being a commercial enterprise in the first place, losing what little discipline they faced from competition, paving the way for enshittification.

But I said there are four forces that discipline companies. The second one of these forces is regulation, discipline imposed by states.

It’s a mistake to see market discipline and state discipline as two isolated realms. They are intimately connected. Because competition is a necessary condition for effective regulation.

Let me put this in terms that even the most ideological libertarians can understand. Say you think there should be precisely one regulation that governments should enforce: honoring contracts. For the government to serve as referee in that game, it must have the power to compel the players to honor their contracts. Which means that the smallest government you can have is determined by the largest corporation you're willing to permit.

So even if you're the kind of Musk-addled libertarian who can no longer open your copy of Atlas Shrugged because the pages are all stuck together, who pines for markets for human kidneys, and demands the right to sell yourself into slavery, you should still want a robust antitrust regime, so that these contracts can be enforced.

When a sector cartelizes, when it collapses into oligarchy, when the internet turns into "five giant websites, each filled with screenshots of the other four," then it captures its regulators.

After all, a sector with 100 competing companies is a rabble, at each others' throats. They can't agree on anything, especially how they're going to lobby.

While a sector of five companies – or four – or three – or two – or one – is a cartel, a racket, a conspiracy in waiting. A sector that has been boiled down to a mere handful of firms can agree on a common lobbying position.

What's more, they are so insulated from "wasteful competition" that they are aslosh in cash that they can mobilize to make their regulatory preferences into regulations. In other words, they can capture their regulators.

“Regulatory capture" may sound abstract and complicated, so let me put it in concrete terms. In the UK, the antitrust regulator is called the Competition and Markets Authority, run – until recently – by Marcus Bokkerink. The CMA has been one of the world's most effective investigators and regulators of Big Tech fuckery.

Last month, UK PM Keir Starmer fired Bokkerink and replaced him with Doug Gurr, the former head of Amazon UK. Hey, Starmer, the henhouse is on the line, they want their fox back.

But back to our nurses: there are plenty of examples of regulatory capture lurking in that example, but I'm going to pick the most egregious one, the fact that there are data brokers who will sell you information about the credit card debts of random Americans.

This is because the US Congress hasn't passed a new consumer privacy law since 1988, when Ronald Reagan signed a law called the Video Privacy Protection Act that bans video store clerks from telling newspapers which VHS cassettes you took home. The fact that Congress hasn't updated Americans' privacy protections since Die Hard was in theaters isn't a coincidence or an oversight. It is the expensively purchased inaction of a heavily concentrated – and thus wildly profitable – privacy-invasion industry that has monetized the abuse of human rights at unimaginable scale.

The coalition in favor of keeping privacy law frozen since the season finale of St Elsewhere keeps growing, because there is an unbounded set of way to transform the systematic invasion of our human rights into cash. There's a direct line from this phenomenon to nurses whose paychecks go down when they can't pay their credit-card bills.

So competition is dead, regulation is dead, and companies aren't disciplined by markets or by states.

But there are four forces that discipline firms, contributing to an inhospitable environment for the reproduction of sociopathic. enshittifying monsters.

So let's talk about those other two forces. The first is interoperability, the principle of two or more things working together. Like, you can put anyone's shoelaces in your shoes, anyone's gas in your gas tank, and anyone's lightbulbs in your light-socket. In the non-digital world, interop takes a lot of work, you have to agree on the direction, pitch, diameter, voltage, amperage and wattage for that light socket, or someone's gonna get their hand blown off.

But in the digital world, interop is built in, because there's only one kind of computer we know how to make, the Turing-complete, universal, von Neumann machine, a computing machine capable of executing every valid program.

Which means that for any enshittifying program, there's a counterenshittificatory program waiting to be run. When HP writes a program to ensure that its printers reject third-party ink, someone else can write a program to disable that checking.

For gig workers, antienshittificatory apps can do yeoman duty. For example, Indonesian gig drivers formed co-ops, that commission hackers to write modifications for their dispatch apps. For example, the taxi app won't book a driver to pick someone up at a train station, unless they're right outside, but when the big trains pull in that's a nightmare scene of total, lethal chaos.

So drivers have an app that lets them spoof their GPS, which lets them park up around the corner, but have the app tell their bosses that they're right out front of the station. When a fare arrives, they can zip around and pick them up, without contributing to the stationside mishegas.

In the USA, a company called Para shipped an app to help Doordash drivers get paid more. You see, Doordash drivers make most of their money on tips, and the Doordash driver app hides the tip amount until you accept a job, meaning you don't know whether you're accepting a job that pays $1.50 or $11.50 with tip, until you agree to take it. So Para made an app that extracted the tip amount and showed it to drivers before they clocked on.

But Doordash shut it down, because in America, apps like Para are illegal. In 1998, Bill Clinton signed a law called the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, and section 1201 of the DMCA makes is a felony to "bypass an access control for a copyrighted work," with penalties of $500k and a 5-year prison sentence for a first offense. So just the act of reverse-engineering an app like the Doordash app is a potential felony, which is why companies are so desperately horny to get you to use their apps rather than their websites.

The web is open, apps are closed. The majority of web users have installed an ad blocker (which is also a privacy blocker). But no one installs an ad blocker for an app, because it's a felony to distribute that tool, because you have to reverse-engineer the app to make it. An app is just a website wrapped in enough IP so that the company that made it can send you to prison if you dare to modify it so that it serves your interests rather than theirs.

Around the world, we have enacted a thicket of laws, we call “IP laws,” that make it illegal to modify services, products, and devices, so that they serve your interests, rather than the interests of the shareholders.

Like I said, these laws were enacted in living memory, by people who are among us, who were warned about the obvious, eminently foreseeable consequences of their reckless plans, who did it anyway.

Back in 2010, two ministers from Stephen Harper's government decided to copy-paste America's Digital Millennium Copyright Act into Canadian law. They consulted on the proposal to make it illegal to reverse engineer and modify services, products and devices, and they got an earful! 6,138 Canadians sent in negative comments on the consultation. They warned that making it illegal to bypass digital locks would interfere with repair of devices as diverse as tractors, cars, and medical equipment, from ventilators to insulin pumps.

These Canadians warned that laws banning tampering with digital locks would let American tech giants corner digital markets, forcing us to buy our apps and games from American app stores, that could cream off any commission they chose to levy. They warned that these laws were a gift to monopolists who wanted to jack up the price of ink; that these copyright laws, far from serving Canadian artists would lock us to American platforms. Because every time someone in our audience bought a book, a song, a game, a video, that was locked to an American app, it could never be unlocked.

So if we, the creative workers of Canada, tried to migrate to a Canadian store, our audience couldn't come with us. They couldn't move their purchases from the US app to a Canadian one.

6,138 Canadians told them this, while just 54 respondents sided with Heritage Minister James Moore and Industry Minister Tony Clement. Then, James Moore gave a speech, at the International Chamber of Commerce meeting here in Toronto, where he said he would only be listening to the 54 cranks who supported his terrible ideas, on the grounds that the 6,138 people who disagreed with him were "babyish…radical extremists."

So in 2012, we copied America's terrible digital locks law into the Canadian statute book, and now we live in James Moore and Tony Clement's world, where it is illegal to tamper with a digital lock. So if a company puts a digital lock on its product they can do anything behind that lock, and it's a crime to undo it.

For example, if HP puts a digital lock on its printers that verifies that you're not using third party ink cartridges, or refilling an HP cartridge, it's a crime to bypass that lock and use third party ink. Which is how HP has gotten away with ratcheting the price of ink up, and up, and up.

Printer ink is now the most expensive fluid that a civilian can purchase without a special permit. It's colored water that costs $10k/gallon, which means that you print out your grocery lists with liquid that costs more than the semen of a Kentucky Derby-winning stallion.

That's the world we got from Clement and Moore, in living memory, after they were warned, and did it anyway. The world where farmers can't fix their tractors, where independent mechanics can't fix your car, where hospitals during the pandemic lockdowns couldn't service their failing ventilators, where every time a Canadian iPhone user buys an app from a Canadian software author, every dollar they spend takes a round trip through Apple HQ in Cupertino, California and comes back 30 cents lighter.

Let me remind you this is the world where a nurse can't get a counter-app, a plug-in, for the “Uber for nurses” app they have to use to get work, that lets them coordinate with other nurses to refuse shifts until the wages on offer rise to a common level or to block surveillance of their movements and activity.

Interoperability was a major disciplining force on tech firms. After all, if you make the ads on your website sufficiently obnoxious, some fraction of your users will install an ad-blocker, and you will never earn another penny from them. Because no one in the history of ad-blockers has ever uninstalled an ad-blocker. But once it's illegal to make an ad-blocker, there's no reason not to make the ads as disgusting, invasive, obnoxious as you can, to shift all the value from the end user to shareholders and executives.

So we get monopolies and monopolies capture their regulators, and they can ignore the laws they don't like, and prevent laws that might interfere with their predatory conduct – like privacy laws – from being passed. They get new laws passed, laws that let them wield governmental power to prevent other companies from entering the market.

So three of the four forces are neutralized: competition, regulation, and interoperability. That left just one disciplining force holding enshittification at bay: labor.

Tech workers are a strange sort of workforce, because they have historically been very powerful, able to command high wages and respect, but they did it without joining unions. Union density in tech is abysmal, almost undetectable. Tech workers' power didn't come from solidarity, it came from scarcity. There weren't enough workers to fill the jobs going begging, and tech workers are unfathomnably productive. Even with the sky-high salaries tech workers commanded, every hour of labor they put in generated far more value for their employers.

Faced with a tight labor market, and the ability to turn every hour of tech worker overtime into gold, tech bosses pulled out all the stops to motivate that workforce. They appealed to workers' sense of mission, convinced them they were holy warriors, ushering in a new digital age. Google promised them they would "organize the world's information and make it useful.” Facebook promised them they would “make the world more open and connected."

There's a name for this tactic: the librarian Fobazi Ettarh calls it "vocational awe." That’s where an appeal to a sense of mission and pride is used to motivate workers to work for longer hours and worse pay.

There are all kinds of professions that run on vocational awe: teaching, daycares and eldercare, and, of course, nursing.

Techies are different from those other workers though, because they've historically been incredibly scarce, which meant that while bosses could motivate them to work on projects they believed in, for endless hours, the minute bosses ordered them to enshittify the projects they'd missed their mothers' funerals to ship on deadline these workers would tell their bosses to fuck off.

If their bosses persisted in these demands, the techies would walk off the job, cross the street, and get a better job the same day.

So for many years, tech workers were the fourth and final constraint, holding the line after the constraints of competition, regulation and interop slipped away. But then came the mass tech layoffs. 260,000 in 2023; 150,000 in 2024; tens of thousands this year, with Facebook planning a 5% headcount massacre while doubling its executive bonuses.

Tech workers can't tell their bosses to go fuck themselves anymore, because there's ten other workers waiting to take their jobs.

Now, I promised I wouldn't talk about AI, but I have to break that promise a little, just to point out that the reason tech bosses are so horny for AI Is because they think it'll let them fire tech workers and replace them with pliant chatbots who'll never tell them to fuck off.

So that's where enshittification comes from: multiple changes to the environment. The fourfold collapse of competition, regulation, interoperability and worker power creates an enshittogenic environment, where the greediest, most sociopathic elements in the body corporate thrive at the expense of those elements that act as moderators of their enshittificatory impulses.

We can try to cure these corporations. We can use antitrust law to break them up, fine them, force strictures upon them. But until we fix the environment, other the contagion will spread to other firms.

So let's talk about how we create a hostile environment for enshittifiers, so the population and importance of enshittifying agents in companies dwindles to 1990s levels. We won't get rid of these elements. So long as the profit motive is intact, there will be people whose pursuit of profit is pathological, unmoderated by shame or decency. But we can change the environment so that these don't dominate our lives.

Let's talk about antitrust. After 40 years of antitrust decline, this decade has seen a massive, global resurgence of antitrust vigor, one that comes in both left- and right-wing flavors.

Over the past four years, the Biden administration’s trustbusters at the Federal Trade Commission, Department of Justice and Consumer Finance Protection Bureau did more antitrust enforcement than all their predecessors for the past 40 years combined.

There's certainly factions of the Trump administration that are hostile to this agenda but Trump's antitrust enforcers at the DoJ and FTC now say that they'll preserve and enforce Biden's new merger guidelines, which stop companies from buying each other up, and they've already filed suit to block a giant tech merger.

Of course, last summer a judge found Google guilty of monopolization, and now they're facing a breakup, which explains why they've been so generous and friendly to the Trump administration.

Meanwhile, in Canada, our toothless Competition Bureau's got fitted for a set of titanium dentures last June, when Bill C59 passed Parliament, granting sweeping new powers to our antitrust regulator.

It's true that UK PM Keir Starmer just fired the head of the UK Competition and Markets Authority and replaced him with the ex-boss of Amazon UK boss.But the thing that makes that so tragic is that the UK CMA had been doing astonishingly great work under various conservative governments.

In the EU, they've passed the Digital Markets Act and the Digital Services Act, and they're going after Big Tech with both barrels. Other countries around the world – Australia, Germany, France, Japan, South Korea and China (yes, China!) – have passed new antitrust laws, and launched major antitrust enforcement actions, often collaborating with each other.

So you have the UK Competition and Markets Authority using its investigatory powers to research and publish a deep market study on Apple's abusive 30% app tax, and then the EU uses that report as a roadmap for fining Apple, and then banning Apple's payments monopoly under new regulations.Then South Korea and Japan trustbusters translate the EU's case and win nearly identical cases in their courts

What about regulatory capture? Well, we're starting to see regulators get smarter about reining in Big Tech. For example, the EU's Digital Markets Act and Digital Services Act were designed to bypass the national courts of EU member states, especially Ireland, the tax-haven where US tech companies pretend to have their EU headquarters.

The thing about tax havens is that they always turn into crime havens, because if Apple can pretend to be Irish this week, it can pretend to be Maltese or Cypriot or Luxembourgeois next week. So Ireland has to let US Big Tech companies ignore EU privacy laws and other regulations, or it'll lose them to sleazier, more biddable competitor nations.

So from now on, EU tech regulation is getting enforced in the EU's federal courts, not in national courts, treating the captured Irish courts as damage and routing around them.

Canada needs to strengthen its own tech regulation enforcement, unwinding monopolistic mergers from the likes of Bell and Rogers, but most of all, Canada needs to pursue an interoperability agenda.

Last year, Canada passed two very exciting bills: Bill C244, a national Right to Repair law; and Bill C294, an interoperability law. Nominally, both of these laws allow Canadians to fix everything from tractors to insulin pumps, and to modify the software in their devices from games consoles to printers, so they will work with third party app stores, consumables and add-ons.

However, these bills are essentially useless, because these bills don’t permit Canadians to acquire tools to break digital locks. So you can modify your printer to accept third party ink, or interpret a car's diagnostic codes so any mechanic can fix it, but only if there isn't a digital lock stopping you from doing so, because giving someone a tool to break a digital lock remains illegal thanks to the law that James Moore and Tony Clement shoved down the nation's throat in 2012.

And every single printer, smart speaker, car, tractor, appliance, medical implant and hospital medical device has a digital lock that stops you from fixing it, modifying it, or using third party parts, software, or consumables in it.

Which means that these two landmark laws on repair and interop are useless. So why not get rid of the 2012 law that bans breaking digital locks? Because these laws are part of our trade agreement with the USA. This is a law needed to maintain tariff-free access to US markets.

I don’t know if you've heard, but Donald Trump is going to impose a 25%, across-the-board tariff against Canadian exports. Trudeau's response is to impose retaliatory tariffs, which will make every American product that Canadians buy 25% more expensive. This is a very weird way to punish America!

You know what would be better? Abolish the Canadian laws that protect US Big Tech companies from Canadian competition. Make it legal to reverse-engineer, jailbreak and modify American technology products and services. Don't ask Facebook to pay a link tax to Canadian newspapers, make it legal to jailbreak all of Meta's apps and block all the ads in them, so Mark Zuckerberg doesn't make a dime off of us.

Make it legal for Canadian mechanics to jailbreak your Tesla and unlock every subscription feature, like autopilot and full access to your battery, for one price, forever. So you get more out of your car, and when you sell it, then next owner continues to enjoy those features, meaning they'll pay more for your used car.

That's how you hurt Elon Musk: not by being performatively appalled at his Nazi salutes. That doesn't cost him a dime. He loves the attention. No! Strike at the rent-extracting, insanely high-margin aftermarket subscriptions he relies on for his Swastikar business. Kick that guy right in the dongle!

Let Canadians stand up a Canadian app store for Apple devices, one that charges 3% to process transactions, not 30%. Then, every Canadian news outlet that sells subscriptions through an app, and every Canadian software author, musician and writer who sells through a mobile platform gets a 25% increase in revenues overnight, without signing up a single new customer.

But we can sign up new customers, by selling jailbreaking software and access to Canadian app stores, for every mobile device and games console to everyone in the world, and by pitching every games publisher and app maker on selling in the Canadian app store to customers anywhere without paying a 30% vig to American big tech companies.

We could sell every mechanic in the world a $100/month subscription to a universal diagnostic tool. Every farmer in the world could buy a kit that would let them fix their own John Deere tractors without paying a $200 callout charge for a Deere technician who inspects the repair the farmer is expected to perform.

They'd beat a path to our door. Canada could become a tech export powerhouse, while making everything cheaper for Canadian tech users, while making everything more profitable for anyone who sells media or software in an online store. And – this is the best part – it’s a frontal assault on the largest, most profitable US companies, the companies that are single-handedly keeping the S&P 500 in the black, striking directly at their most profitable lines of business, taking the revenues from those ripoff scams from hundreds of billions to zero, overnight, globally.

We don't have to stop at exporting reasonably priced pharmaceuticals to Americans! We could export the extremely lucrative tools of technological liberation to our American friends, too.

That's how you win a trade-war.

What about workers? Here we have good news and bad news.

The good news is that public approval for unions is at a high mark last seen in the early 1970s, and more workers want to join a union than at any time in generations, and unions themselves are sitting on record-breaking cash reserves they could be using to organize those workers.

But here's the bad news. The unions spent the Biden years, when they had the most favorable regulatory environment since the Carter administration, when public support for unions was at an all-time high, when more workers than ever wanted to join a union, when they had more money than ever to spend on unionizing those workers, doing fuck all. They allocatid mere pittances to union organizing efforts with the result that we finished the Biden years with fewer unionized workers than we started them with.

Then we got Trump, who illegally fired National Labor Relations Board member Gwynne Wilcox, leaving the NLRB without a quorum and thus unable to act on unfair labor practices or to certify union elections.

This is terrible. But it’s not game over. Trump fired the referees, and he thinks that this means the game has ended. But here's the thing: firing the referee doesn't end the game, it just means we're throwing out the rules. Trump thinks that labor law creates unions, but he's wrong. Unions are why we have labor law. Long before unions were legal, we had unions, who fought goons and ginks and company finks in` pitched battles in the streets.

That illegal solidarity resulted in the passage of labor law, which legalized unions. Labor law is passed because workers build power through solidarity. Law doesn't create that solidarity, it merely gives it a formal basis in law. Strip away that formal basis, and the worker power remains.

Worker power is the answer to vocational awe. After all, it's good for you and your fellow workers to feel a sense of mission about your jobs. If you feel that sense of mission, if you feel the duty to protect your users, your patients, your patrons, your students, a union lets you fulfill that duty.

We saw that in 2023 when Doug Ford promised to destroy the power of Ontario's public workers. Workers across the province rose up, promising a general strike, and Doug Ford folded like one of his cheap suits. Workers kicked the shit out of him, and we'll do it again. Promises made, promises kept.

The unscheduled midair disassembly of American labor law means that workers can have each others' backs again. Tech workers need other workers' help, because tech workers aren't scarce anymore, not after a half-million layoffs. Which means tech bosses aren't afraid of them anymore.

We know how tech bosses treat workers they aren't afraid of. Look at Jeff Bezos: the workers in his warehouses are injured on the job at 3 times the national rate, his delivery drivers have to pee in bottles, and they are monitored by AI cameras that snitch on them if their eyeballs aren't in the proscribed orientation or if their mouth is open too often while they drive, because policy forbids singing along to the radio.

By contrast, Amazon coders get to show up for work with pink mohawks, facial piercings, and black t-shirts that say things their bosses don't understand. They get to pee whenever they want. Jeff Bezos isn't sentimental about tech workers, nor does he harbor a particularized hatred of warehouse workers and delivery drivers. He treats his workers as terribly as he can get away with. That means that the pee bottles are coming for the coders, too.

It's not just Amazon, of course. Take Apple. Tim Cook was elevated to CEO in 2011. Apple's board chose him to succeed founder Steve Jobs because he is the guy who figured out how to shift Apple's production to contract manufacturers in China, without skimping on quality assurance, or suffering leaks of product specifications ahead of the company's legendary showy launches.

Today, Apple's products are made in a gigantic Foxconn factory in Zhengzhou nicknamed "iPhone City.” Indeed, these devices arrive in shipping containers at the Port of Los Angeles in a state of pristine perfection, manufactured to the finest tolerances, and free of any PR leaks.

To achieve this miraculous supply chain, all Tim Cook had to do was to make iPhone City a living hell, a place that is so horrific to work that they had to install suicide nets around the worker dorms to catch the plummeting bodies of workers who were so brutalized by Tim Cook's sweatshop that they attempted to take their own lives.

Tim Cook is also not sentimentally attached to tech workers, nor is he hostile to Chinese assembly line workers. He just treats his workers as badly as he can get away with, and with mass layoffs in the tech sector he can treat his coders much, much worse

How do tech workers get unions? Well, there are tech-specific organizations like Tech Solidarity and the Tech Workers Coalition. But tech workers will only get unions by having solidarity with other workers and receiving solidarity back from them. We all need to support every union. All workers need to have each other's backs.

We are entering a period of omnishambolic polycrisis.The ominous rumble of climate change, authoritarianism, genocide, xenophobia and transphobia has turned into an avalanche. The perpetrators of these crimes against humanity have weaponized the internet, colonizing the 21st century's digital nervous system, using it to attack its host, threatening civilization itself.

The enshitternet was purpose-built for this kind of apocalyptic co-option, organized around giant corporations who will trade a habitable planet and human rights for a three percent tax cut, who default us all into twiddle-friendly algorithmic feed, and block the interoperability that would let us escape their clutches with the backing of powerful governments whom they can call upon to "protect their IP rights."

It didn't have to be this way. The enshitternet was not inevitable. It was the product of specific policy choices, made in living memory, by named individuals.

No one came down off a mountain with two stone tablets, intoning Tony Clement, James Moore: Thou shalt make it a crime for Canadians to jailbreak their phones. Those guys chose enshittification, throwing away thousands of comments from Canadians who warned them what would come of it.

We don't have to be eternal prisoners of the catastrophic policy blunders of mediocre Tory ministers. As the omnicrisis polyshambles unfolds around us, we have the means, motive and opportunity to craft Canadian policies that bolster our sovereignty, protect our rights, and help us to set every technology user, in every country (including the USA) free.

The Trump presidency is an existential crisis but it also presents opportunities. When life gives you SARS, you make sarsaparilla. We once had an old, good internet, whose major defect was that it required too much technical expertise to use, so all our normie friends were excluded from that wondrous playground.

Web 2.0's online services had greased slides that made it easy for anyone to get online, but escaping from those Web 2.0 walled gardens meant was like climbing out of a greased pit. A new, good internet is possible, and necessary. We can build it, with all the technological self-determination of the old, good internet, and the ease of use of Web 2.0.

A place where we can find each other, coordinate and mobilize to resist and survive climate collapse, fascism, genocide and authoritarianism. We can build that new, good internet, and we must.

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/2025/02/26/ursula-franklin/#enshittification-eh

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sinstear · 5 months ago

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ㅤㅤ　　 — playing with & braiding abby’s hair ⛧

most of the time, abby had her hair out of her face, braided, and left alone until she arrived home later that night. she didn’t like anyone touching it. she only really trusted herself with her hair. but, as of late, and having been dating you for almost two years, abby can’t wait to get home just for you to play with her hair, comb your fingers through, and remove all the collected knots from having her hair up all day. abby found it comforting, and sentimental, she loved the feeling of you gently threading your fingers through her hair, twirling certain strands around your finger as she sat between your legs when she would get home and watch tv. as much as she hated long, painful and on her feet type of work all day, she looked forward to being able to stop, get home, find you already waiting in bed for her. you always mumble a soft “shower first,” and abby never hesitates, as long as she’s quick enough that she can finally be under the blankets with you and your fingers in her hair by 10pm. when she is finally all clean and ready for bed? abby’s stumbling out of the bathroom, climbing onto the bed, pushing the blanket away, and slumping between your legs with a hum. “you’re so cute,” you smiled, letting her take your hand and place it on her head. her hair is still wet, but that doesn’t bother either of you, she just melts more into you when she finally feels your fingers carding their way through her hair, stopping every few seconds to scratch at her scalp in the way you know she loves. the more you play with her hair and rub her head, the more her eyes flutter closed. abby barely speaks when she finally gets home with you, but you understand that because she’s tired, and it’s not long until her breathing becomes labored and the grip that she had around your waist loosens, that your eyes flicker down to focus on her and you smile. she always looked at peace and at ease when she rested, and you were always thankful that she was able to get that when she was home with you. with your comfort and safety. poor girl’s so tired that she doesn’t even feel your fingers slowly starting to braid her hair, taking it out and repeating the process again until she lets out a content hum and buries her face more into your chest. leaning your head down, you press your lips against her forehead and smile. “sweetest girl,” you mumbled, brushing your knuckles over the apples of her cheek, “i love you.”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson drabble #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby anderson tlou2 #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby x you

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oceantornadoo · 4 months ago

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ch 2: the wrong john (masterlist) next

john price x f!reader | can be read standalone!! tw: a singular reference to pet play, tipsy sex, mild dubcon if you squint

—

His hand on your back guides you all the way to your hotel room.

It anchors you to his side when you get on the elevator. When you fumble for your key card in your bag, there’s a heavy weight holding you down. Your fingers slip over the key card, missing the slot multiple times before he silently takes it from you, in and out before you can blink. You hate him.

“Don’t hav’ to do anythin’, sweetheart. Can sleep on the couch. ‘m good at sleepin’ anywhere.” John doesn’t like the nerves you’re showing. He likes his women clawing, not meek. You shake your head, locking the door behind you. “No, it’s-I’m okay. It’s just been a long day.” He hums in a neutral tone, the low sound seeping into your veins. “C’mere.”

Strong arms grip your waist, turning you around until your face is smushed into his pecs. The flannel of his shirt scratches your cheek softly and you nuzzle further in at the feel. A chuckle bubbles out of John at the action, so you keep your gleeful smile to yourself. Your hands come around his waist, hugging him like a husband, not an almost-stranger. He tucks your head under his chin, pulling you closer into him until you can’t tell where he stops and you begin. The peace of it tugs at your heartstrings, a bit too close for comfort.

You step away and John lets you, but he doesn’t let you get too far. He’s at the door frame of your cramped bathroom, watching you take off your makeup and wash your face. For a second when you mention you need to pee, he just stands there, like he’ll watch anyways. John’s eyes are dark with something you can’t place, a little too close to possessiveness. You tell yourself it’s him being tipsy when you have to close the door for him to get the message. It crosses your mind that you’ve let a complete stranger, an unknown man, into your hotel room. You’re on edge, the words “You should leave” on the tip of your tongue, but when you open the door he’s standing in his boxers and the words die on your lips.

“Don’t get any ideas, sweetheart, it’s jus’ how I sleep.” A giggle escapes you in spite of yourself. You shake your head, flinging back the covers of your king bed so there’s enough room for two. “Since you’re obviously looking for a place to sleep, I guess I have some bed to share.” He grins, his beard tugging up in an adorable manner. “You sure? ‘v been told I snore like a bear.” And look like one too. It’s hard to focus on his words when his body is right there. Rigid lines of labor covered in a thin layer of fat. Mountains of hair, from his pecs down to his happy trail where it disappears into his boxers. It’s practically a map for where you want to go. The earlier shakiness is gone, replaced by a familiar want and sprinkled with a shade of embarrassment from your earlier antics. You pat the place beside you and he’s there, lifting you into his lap with ease.

“You’re presumptive.” It comes out in a rush, stopped by his lips on yours. He’s hard and insistent, like he’s owed something based on his earlier kindness. You give it to him, pushing him into the headboard while your hips grind down on his clothed cock. You bite his lower lip and he groans, mouth opening wider to let you in deeper. His hands travel from your waist to your hips to under your shirt, where he stops his search.

“Y’r not wearin’ panties.” You shake your head against his skin, kissing and nibbling your way down his neck. A large hand slides in between where your cunt, already messy with want, is grinding on his clothed cock. The calluses on his palm hit your clit perfectly, every grind adding pressure inside your stomach. “Ever come like this, baby?” You bite his neck, jolting him enough so that the tip of his middle finger slides into your hole, greedily sucking him in. “Only against a pillow.” You didn’t think a man could growl but he does, a feral sound against your ear. “Let’s try it on my lap, then.” He emphasizes it by guiding your hips harsher, keeping the pace but upping the pressure. It’s delicious, this balance of friction and movement, making your more sensitive as your chests touch. Nipples pointed, they scrape against your t-shirt and his hairy chest, more and more fuel to the ache inside of you. “C’mon, baby, that’s it. Give it to me, there’s a good girl.” And you do give it, coming on his hand, slowing your grind as the feeling trickles through your limbs. You’re so tired, a bone deep ache causing you to lay your head on his shoulder. But John is not done.

“Lift your hips, sweetheart.” You follow his instruction without a second thought, hips up in the air despite the burn. There’s a shuffling of fabric but your eyes are closed, content to let him maneuver you. Something big is tapping against your hole, sinking in slowly until he pulls your hips down. You whine at the stretch but he’s there, shushing you and stroking your hair. “Not expectin’ y’ to do anythin’. Just keep it warm, pet.” The light shuts off and even though he’s pulsing inside you, hungry, you drift off into a blissful sleep.

The clock is blinking 2:08 at you in bright red. It hits you at once: the burn in your thighs, the warmth of John’s skin, the ache inside you telling you that he’s still in you. Your face is against his hairy pec, arms akimbo in a position you’ll surely feel in the morning. There’s something coiling inside you, has been for hours, and you give into the urge to move. You quietly fuck yourself on John’s cock, not speaking when his hands move to help. Your orgasm is quick but his takes longer, bouncing you like a fucktoy until he finally comes inside you, pulling out to shoot it on your stomach and the triangle of your cunt.

“Go’on, pet. Go to sleep.” And like a good pet, you do.

um.

yes i used three pet names.

no i dont want to talk about it.

next chapter is more ghoap and a lil gaz. 😋

taglist

@lveegsoi

@galactict3a

@nova-willow-541

lmk if i forgot you or you want to be added

#price #price call of duty #price is right #captain john price #tornadothoughts #fic: the wrong john #john price x y/n #john price x you #john price x f!reader #captain johnathan price #captain price x reader #captain price #john price x reader #price x reader #price x you #price x y/n #cod 141 #john price #john price x female reader

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multi-fandom-imagine · 1 year ago

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[Key]

-💕means it has sexual content/Implied sexual content..

-💔means it is an angst fic

-😍means it is a family fic

-💘means it is an angst fic with a happy ending.

-🚫means it contains a Trigger Warning.

─ ★

─ ★Lucifer Morningstar.

🪽:Lucifer realizing he's falling in love Headcanon's

🪽:TransMasc reader x Lucifer. Anything would be amazing but if you rather work with a concept, both reader and Lucifer being awkward because they wanna kiss SO BAD but don't think the other does but when they do it goes 0-100 so fast--💕

🪽:[ underside ] sender leans in and places a suggestive kiss just under receiver's jawline.

🪽:Lucifer giving you oral-💕

🪽:Adam, Alastor and Lucifer taking care of a sick reader.

🪽:sub!lucifer with like, whining and begging-💕

🪽:Broken Hallelujah -💘

🪽:Giving Lucifer a Squishmallow

🪽:Lucifer leaving Hickey's all over the reader

🪽:Imagine giving Lucifer a Duck squishmallow

🪽:How about Y/N giving Lucifer a homemade duck plush holding a heart for valentines day?

🪽:Lucifer being fascinated by you

🪽:Adam, Husk, Lucifer and Alastor helping you while you're on your period.

🪽:dying in Lucifers arms-💔 || coming back with no memories

🪽:Lucifer bringing you breakfast in bed

─ ★Dad!cifer Fics n Things.

🪽:Reader going through labor

🪽:Lucifer Morningstar with a breeding kink.-💕

🪽:Lucifer going feral for his pregnant wife.-💕

🪽:Lucifer with lactation kink

🪽:Lucifer and the reader take Edna to the hotel to meet the others, ironically Alastor would become the favorite uncle just to annoy Lucifer.

🪽: Charlie Morningstar meeting her baby sister.

🪽:Imagine if for Lucifer and Reader’s baby, they wear duck onesies

🪽:Baby's first step's

🪽:Edna is like 5 and she met a boy and calls him her boyfriend and luck just looses 100 off his life.

🪽:Edna visiting the hotel with Lucifer.

🪽:valentines blurb of Edna giving Lucifer a card that says favorite daddy on it. Y/N helped her make it but refuses to take credit.

🪽: Edna's looks

🪽:Lucifer finding out he's having another child

🪽:Edna changing into a duck due to Lucifers things.

🪽:Lucifer comforting you during your pregnancy

─ ★Alastor "The Radio Demon."

📻:Alastor fucking you in his studio.-💕

📻:Alastor giving you a piggyback ride.

📻:[BEND] for the shorter muse to tug the taller muse down so they can kiss their forehead.

📻:Adam, Alastor and Lucifer taking care of a sick reader.

📻:Adam, Husk, Lucifer and Alastor helping you while you're on your period.

📻:Alastor comforting you

─ ★Dad!Alastor Fics n Things.

📻: Alastor with a breeding kink.💕

📻:Alastor's twins beefing with Vox

📻:Alastor's twins

📻:Alastor's Twin's names

📻:Alastor & Husk as Father HC's

─ ★Overlord!Husk

🎰:Husk in his suit

🎰:Husk / Overlord!Husk sex hc's

🎰:Husk / Overlord!Husk hc's

🎰:Giving Overlord!Husk a bj under his desk.

🎰:Falling for the nanny || Nanny!reader finding out she is pregnant.

🎰:Kᥲᑲᥱᑯoᥒ

🎰: Overlord!Husk being jealous of Husk

🎰:becoming a father

🎰:Overlord!Husk in a rut.

🎰:overlord!Husk meets a sad reader during a party at the casino and finds out a overlord that owns her soul is treating them bad, so he wins her soul and treats her with the respect she deserves.

🎰:comforting chubby Husk

─ ★Husk

🍻:Helping Husk through his heat-💕

🍻:Husk comforting you.

🍻:imagine Husk having that problem, he has the same "thorns" on his penis, which was a very ugly problem when he had sex for the first time with his wife.-💕

🍻:Reader-chan just surprises him by giving him achubby plush cat that looks similar to him and he tries to hate it but immediately cuddles it when he's alone.

🍻:Husk surprising you with breakfast in bed

🍻:playing with Husk's ears

🍻:Adam, Husk, Lucifer and Alastor helping you while you're on your period.

🍻:Husk trying a cheesy pick up line on you.

🍻:Imagine Husk's s/o saying: "I'm not even playing cards and I still pulled a king~"

🍻:Husk wearing his old suit for you on date night

🍻:Husk / Overlord!Husk sex hc' || Husk / Overlord!Husk hc's

🍻:Imagine if you're just laying on the couc alone, Husk, and the kits in another room playing or whatever. And out of boredom, you just say: pspspspspsps

🍻:cuddles with a chubby Husk

🍻:Husk x Butterfly Demon Reader

🍻:Husk comforting you

─ ★Dad!Husk Fics n Things.

🍻:Husk as a dad

🍻:Husk carrying his kits

🍻:Husk reacting to Alastor owning his children's souls.

🍻:Husk losing his daughter { AU }-💔,-🚫

🍻:Husk dad blurb

🍻:So is Husk daughter Marilyn a pure white cat? I’m asking because if she is then I can see Alastor petting her in his lap while scheming like those James Bond Villains.

🍻:since husk's little girl is like the runt of the litter, maybe some moments where husk is amazed at how small she is.

🍻:Husk's daughter saying papa for the first time.

🍻:Husk bringing his kits to the hotel

🍻:Husk's kit's names. || color of the kits

🍻:Alastor using a laser pointer on Husk and the kits.

🍻:Husk cleaning his children,too relaxed and focused solely on licking his babies while everyone was purring, and he was accidentally discovered by everyone.

🍻:Husk trying to take a nap with his wife, only for his kits to come barging in, demanding to join in on the cuddles.

🍻:four year old Marilyn giving Husk cupcakes on valentines day. "Papa! Me and mommy made these!"

🍻:cuddling with Husk while pregnant.

🍻:Husk & Alastor as Father's Hc's

🍻:Overlord!Husk meeting the triplets.

─ ★Adam

🍎:Adam, Alastor and Lucifer taking care of a sick reader.

🍎:Lazy morning sex with Adam.-💕

🍎:Can we get depressed/sad Adam x y/n?

🍎:which Adam try's a cheesy pick up line on you.

🍎:Adam, Husk, Lucifer and Alastor helping you while you're on your period.

🍎:Fucking Adam in his office.

🍎:Adam with fem!reader who gets off by adams pleasure during sex

─ ★Dad! Adam things

🍎:Adam as a father HC's ||

🍎:Finding out he's gonna be a dad

─ ★Angel Dust { Anthony }

💄: Angel dust with a butterfly demon reader and they have to fly up to kiss him because he's so tall.

💄: comforting Angel Dust after having a bad day or a nightmare

💄: Angel Dust comforting you.

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theragethatisdesire · 2 years ago

Text

aot men as dads - headcanon!! some 18+!!

includes: eren, jean, reiner, & levi

i'm still working on some full-fledged one-shots and parts of my series', but i'm nannying for the summer and have BABY FEVER. please enjoy my little headcanons of my fav aot men as dads <3

DISCLAIMER: some of this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

Eren

ok but eren is such a cringe dad lol

buys himself all of the #1 Dad! merch. he’s got mugs, tshirts, hats, all of it, and all of it went on his credit card.

10000% a girl dad. loves all the little dresses and bows; he puts your daughter’s hair in its first bun, nearly tears up when she points at his matching hairstyle and babbles “like da-da!”

you have to parent eren as much as the children. when you turn the corner into the living room where he’s supposed to be having “quiet time” with your toddler only to find that they’re buried in a pillow fort and eren’s signed his own name in crayon on the wall next to your daughter’s scribblings. “babe, we can just repaint it! she’s being creative.”

loves when you’re pregnant. after your first, eren keeps a calendar on the wall marking off the days until it’s safe for him to fuck you again, fuck a baby right back into you. already has a breeding kink before your first. develops a lactation kink after.

TERRIFIED (and i mean terrified) of hurting your little angel. has absolutely zero concept of “cry it out”; if he hears his baby crying, he’s sprinting into the next room, kissing a nonexistent boo-boo.

refuses to admit it but he has no backbone when it comes to your daughter wanting literally anything. she wants it, she gets it.

favorite thing in the world is matching outfits. favorite. “babe, where’s her green hoodie? i’m wearing mine today for the park!” “of course it matters, we have to match! on that note, where’s yours?”

lets your daughter use his hair to learn how to braid. usually has a few pink hair ties or glittery clips sticking out of it when you come home from a mom’s night out.

really big on your baby getting to see the world. drags you on vacation to any place he can think of, even as you try to explain to him that she can’t form any long term memories yet. “but baby, she’ll have pictures. how many kids in her class can bring a picture of them at the eiffel tower to their first show-and-tell?”

accidentally ruins santa and the tooth fairy for your daughter. cries harder than she does over it.

aggressively vets babysitters. ends up settling for a nursing student in the labor & delivery school who’s the oldest of seven children and probably more knowledgeable about child development than both of you combined, but he’s still suspicious.

wants to watch while you push, watch his baby come into the world. you’ve never seen a sweeter sight than eren in his scrubs, crying while holding your baby girl.

Jean

most people picture eren as being the roughhousing dad, but it’s jean, and i will die on this hill.

freaks out every time he drops your first boy while throwing him around like a ragdoll, but he’ll never stop because “listen!! he’s laughing!”. when it comes to the rest of them, he’s experienced enough now to tell the difference between a real booboo and an imagined one, and he simply brushes their little pants off caringly before shouting “now you tackle me!”

jean’s got no gender preference for your first, or the rest of your little brood for that matter. he raises them exactly the same, regardless: tough.

it takes him awhile to get used to the concept of babies’ minds. you’ve walked in on him having full-blown arguments with your shrieking toddlers several times. “what’s not making sense? if you let your goldfish ‘swim’ in the toilet, it dies, simple as that.”

plays “bad cop” for you because you’re terrible at it, but he’s always having to turn around and snicker into his elbow in the middle of scolding because your babies get the same little throbbing forehead vein as you when they’re mad

wants a big family, and gets it. you practically have to drag him to get his balls snipped after your fourth, him reminding you that “it’s reversible!” the entire way there.

the newborn phase is his favorite. he’s rarely home for any longer than ten minutes without scooping your most recent addition into his arms, squishing their little cheeks and marveling at their gurgling noises.

the kids never give him anxiety, but when you’re pregnant??? jean’s a wreck.

“do your feet still hurt, love?” “what do you mean you have indigestion? that could be the baby coming!” “of course we can’t have sex, what if we poke its little head?”

definitely the dad that’s got a delivery bag and a backup bag and an emergency third backup of the backup bag in his car at all times. the first week of your third trimester, he starts watching you suspiciously for any signs of labor, even though this is your fourth together. you think you’ve got it down by now, you tell him, but he won’t listen.

always gets the kids to work together on little surprises for you. every mother’s day they wake you up with breakfast, every valentines day your dining room table is covered in handmade cards, every birthday your kitchen is coated in flour from jean and four little ones attempting to bake

SO HARD to drag him out for a date night. he wants to bring them everywhere: the fancy restaurant, the couples' get away trip

jean's that dad standing in the bar, watching the game, beer in hand, with an occupied baby carrier strapped to his chest

wants to watch during delivery, but he passed out the first go-round, so now he’s content standing up by your head, trying not to turn white as you squeeze his hand hard enough to break.

talks you into just one more on your fourth’s second birthday. “they’re all so big now. don’t you miss it, babe? my baby in your belly? c’mon…” turns out he reversed that vasectomy without telling you

Reiner

another girl dad. hardcore girl dad.

buys his little princess all number of dresses and barbies, is confused when she’s more interested in the baseballs her classmates have.

accidentally raises the most tomboyish, toughest little girl. still babies her, and she hates it.

cries more than you do on your first date night out when you leave her with your mom. forgets to order his entree at the restaurant because he’s watching the baby monitor app on his phone.

definitely the best at splitting baby duties with you. reiner’s up before you most nights when she wakes, grabbing a bottle and cooing at her lovingly even as she screams. you always try to stay awake to watch him on the baby monitor, though, heart melting as his massive arms rock the tiny bundle back to sleep.

all the neighborhood kids love him because of his size. at every cookout, reiner can’t help on the grill because he’s buried in the grass in a little army of toddlers, led by your daughter, shrieking with joy.

always taking pictures. literally always. unflattering ones when you fall asleep breastfeeding, candids at the zoo, eighteen identical pictures of the lock of hair from her first haircut clogging up his camera roll.

can’t be the bad cop. literally ever. he just can’t say no to his little princess, can’t break her precious little heart by telling her that throwing her food onto the floor is bad.

takes your daughter to mommy & me classes with him

DILF DILF DILF. all the moms in the classes swoon over him and gossip about him when he’s not there; much to your annoyance, reiner never notices, insisting that they’re his “mommy friends”.

always sporting a little bit of glitter on his face or a sticker on his back from your daughter

coming from a fatherless background, reiner nearly kills himself trying to be a constant presence in your daughter’s life (you have to remind him that he has to rest too)

never misses an open house night at school, even if it nearly gets him fired. coaches all of her sports teams. literally almost cries when she makes her first soccer goal. actually does cry when she tells you the boy sitting beside her in class called her his girlfriend. full-blown breakdown on her first day of school, so bad he has to stay home from work.

the absolute BEST through your pregnancy and delivery. always cooking your craving of the week, constant foot and back rubs, stays up all night with you for the three days before the birth when you’re just too swollen and miserable to sleep.

holds your hand through the entire delivery, gets in the doctors’ way when they’re performing checkups because “i’m her father, i need to know what’s going on”

Levi

levi never pictured himself as having children, but when your little surprise arrives, blinking up at levi with his own grey, owlish eyes, levi can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

very easily irritated with anyone asking questions about your home life.

when his coworkers ask for your newborn’s name, levi simply says “child.” are you two trying again? “why the fuck do you need to know?”

super overprotective. your baby waves at someone in the supermarket, and levi’s leaning down to explain (in words your eight-month-old can’t yet understand) stranger danger.

totally one of those parents that goes half-crazy trying to get their child into the top-notch, snobby preschool in town.

“we’re not wasting his intelligence on the public school”

levi grew up with basically nothing, so he goes all out buying the best baby products on the market. $2,500 strollers, researching “best baby toys for development”, the whole nine yards.

100% spends months trying to get your child to make a game out of picking up his own toys after playtime, but it never works.

has a meal plan for your child to “optimize nutrition” that you have to sneak around to give your baby little chocolates and junk snacks.

“why are there pringles in his playtime bag? they have no nutritional value.”

vets anyone that comes around your child, even other children. “no more playtime with that evan kid. he’s always got a cold or something.”

he’s always been a light sleeper, but once you have your child, levi snores beside them watching kids’ cartoons on the tv like you’ve never seen him, even drooling as his head lolls, arm tucked tight around your little one.

learned everything he could about labor and delivery beforehand

you almost killed him in the delivery room as he explained each medical detail of your labor symptoms to “reassure” you. he finally got the hint when you threatened to decapitate him.

he thinks it’s shameful, but watching you be a mother turns. him. on.

wants to take you right there when he catches you breastfeeding, watches you read a bedtime story, spin your child around laughing. you’re just so naturally good at it and it makes him love you all the more, all that love going straight between his legs.

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archangeldyke-all · 21 days ago

Note

read and sevs reaction to lil fuckers labor 🤚🏻🤚🏻😭

HELL YEAH HELL YEAH HELL YEAH

men and minors dni

"BABYYYY!"

you shoot up from the couch, running into the bedroom, your heart in your throat as your mind conjures up images of sevika in pain. "what? what's going on?" you ask as you enter the room.

sevika's scrambling around the room like a wild animal, her eyes panicked. at the sight of you, she blinks, then a giant grin spreads across her face. "it's happening." she says.

you blink. "what's happening? a fire!?"

"no, baby, it's happening!" she says, reaching forward to grab your shoulders and shake you a bit.

you blink at your wife in confusion. she snorts, kisses your nose, and returns to her manic scrambling, throwing random clothes and supplies on the bed.

"sevika... are you having a stroke?" you ask.

she cackles a little hysterically, then looks at you. "smooches just called, my love. little fucker's water broke."

you gasp. sevika giggles again. "you mean...?"

"our baby's having a baby, baby." sevika finishes for you, nodding rapidly.

you burst into action beside your wife, running to your closet to find a duffel bag to carry all your belongings.

thirty minutes later, you and sevika are in the labor and delivery wing of the local hospital, waiting nervously in the lobby.

smooches finds you with a tired, proud smile on her face.

you swarm her the second you see her.

"is everything okay?"

"is she alright?"

"how are you doing, honey?"

"how far along is she?"

smooches laughs and holds up a hand to cut off you and sevika's barrage of questions. "she's alright. doctors say it'll be a few more hours 'til fucker junior joins the world. got 'er hooked up to a bunch of drugs, she's happy as a clam. i'm okay. just... i dunno. excited? nervous? feel like i might throw up at any moment but... in a good way?"

sevika snorts and ruffles smooches' hair. "i felt the same way when this one went into labor. you'll get used to it."

"it doesn't go away?" smooches asks.

sevika cackles. "oh, honey, that's the feeling of being a parent. it never goes away."

smooches snorts. you reach out and grab her hand. "did you tell your dads?"

she nods. "they're on the way."

"tell 'em to bring a pack of cards. me 'n your pa got a game of poker we gotta pick back up."

smooches laughs and shakes her head at sevika. "alright. are you gonna be okay out here? you can wait at home, y'know."

"please. our baby's having a baby. you're lucky we're not in that room right beside you." you say. smooches laughs, then leans forward to kiss both your cheeks.

"alright. thanks for comin' out moms. i should get back in there... i guess i'll see you when i'm a mom." she says with a shy smile.

your heart bursts, and you squeal as you and sevika hug smooches in for a tight hug.

smooches dads find you an hour later. the four of you camp out in the waiting room, passing around magazines, playing cards, sharing pictures of your daughters when they were young. at one point, while sevika's playing poker with one dad, the other nudges you.

"did you tell your other kids yet?"

you giggle. "little fucker made us promise not to tell 'em until the baby's actually here. apparently, she didn't want to crowd up the hospital with her big ass family. considerate little shit. i love her so much."

he laughs and hands you a tissue as you start to tear up. "it's hard to believe we're old enough to be grandparents, huh?" he asks. you laugh and nod as you blow your snot into the tissue.

"i swear, just yesterday i was in this very hospital givin' birth to the kid myself."

"mmm. then five years later i was here pushin' out the twins." sevika mutters.

time passes agonizingly slow. occasionally, smooches will come out to the waiting room to give you all updates. you sleep on sevika's shoulder, then she sleeps on yours. you do laps around the hospital, trying to burn away some of your nervous energy. sevika even bums a smoke off a nurse, breaking her twentyfive year streak without; trying to calm her nerves.

you giggle as you join her in the parking lot, watching her try and fail to take any real hits off the cig.

"you're horrible at smoking now." you tease. sevika glares at you, then bursts into a round of coughs.

"i used to be so much cooler than this."

"you're gettin' old, granny." you tease again. sevika flicks the mostly unsmoked cigarette away and pulls you in for a kiss.

you spend an eternity in the little waiting room, waiting for your baby to have her baby. and then, at three in the morning...

"wake up, ma." smooches whispers, shaking your shoulder. you snort awake, elbowing sevika and kicking mr. and mr. smooches awake.

"what-- what's going on?" you ask, rubbing your eyes and blinking up at your daughter in law. she grins.

"c'mon." she says simply, nodding her head to the long, winding hall of rooms.

the four of you practically sprint to the delivery room, chattering and whispering nervously. sevika nudges you. "you think the kids'll be awake to get a message right now?"

you laugh. "wait 'til the morning to tell the family group chat. i'm sure the new mommies will want some proper sleep before introducing baby to all her aunts."

"and uncle!" mr. smooches reminds you of ekko. sevika snorts.

"nah, he's used to bein' grouped in with our girls by now, isn't he love?"

you don't answer, because you've finally reached the room.

your heart swells at the sight of your daughter, exhausted, sweaty, and smiling bigger than she ever has in her entire life.

mr. and mr. smooches swarm their daughter and the little crib in the corner of the room, but you and sevika make a pit stop before seeing your grand baby.

you both practically crawl into little fucker's hospital bed beside her as you shower her with kisses. sevika bursts into tears the second she hugs her daughter. you aren't far behind.

"are you okay, my baby girl?" sevika asks with a wobbly voice.

little fucker laughs. "hi mommies. i'm okay."

"oh, honey, you look so fucking beautiful." you coo, cupping her face in your hands. she laughs.

"do i? smooches says i look like a wild animal."

you kiss her sweaty forehead. "a bit." you tease.

"or like you got in a fight with one." sevika adds on, laughing through her tears.

your daughter laughs, and your heart sings.

she's okay. she's okay and healthy and she's a mom now.

"she was a stubborn little shit. didn't wanna come out. i get now why you gave me and the twins such unflattering nicknames. kids are fucking assholes." little fucker says.

you and sevika cackle, peppering your eldest daughter with kisses. "y'know we call you little fucker out of love, right?" sevika asks. little fucker snorts and nods.

"of course. smooches has already nicknamed babygirl 'fucker junior.'"

smooches appears at the bedside, a little bundle of baby wrapped up in her arms. "you wanna meet your grandmas?" she coos down at the baby.

tears well up in your eyes as little fucker reaches out and grabs her kid, pulling her to her chest. sevika's muffling her sobs with the back of her hand. and then you both burst into laughter at the sight of your granddaughter's face.

"janna, sev, how fuckin' strong are your genes?" you cackle.

the beautiful baby girl looks exactly like your wife, just like her mama and her twin aunties. "you're only a quarter of her genetic makeup! how is this possible!" you laugh in admiration.

"what's her name?" sevika asks, hearts in her eyes as she peers down at her fourth mini-me in the family.

"well, fucker junior here came before we could settle on a name, but once i saw her... she just looked so much like you mommy... so... we decided on ximena."

you sob, kissing little fucker's scalp, and sevika blinks at your daughter in shock.

"y-you mean...?"

"like your mom, right?" smooches asks, rubbing sevika's back.

sevika blinks, a tear running down her cheeks, and then she lets out a loud, shaky sigh. you grab her hand, and she launches herself across the bed to kiss you, squishing your daughter and granddaughter between the pair of you.

little fucker bursts into laughter, and baby ximena babbles. when sevika pulls away, she shoots down to kiss little fucker's head.

"is that okay? i know you don't talk about her much but--"

"it's the best fucking thing i've ever heard in my whole life, shut the fuck up." sevika sobs.

the room bursts into laughter, and sevika carefully grabs the baby, staring down at her with stars in her eyes.

"hi ximena. beautiful baby girl. you gave my baby a real hard time gettin' here but... fuck you're fuckin' perfect, aren't you? can't even blame you when you're so fuckin' sweet."

it's a beautiful moment, one that you're certain will stick with you until the day you die.

and then baby ximena farts, and the room bursts into laughter again.

kofi

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette @ellieslob

@xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp @iamastar

@sevikitty @butchchase @nhaaauyen @notlores @mirconreadzztuff22

@veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @strawberrykidneystone @vkumi

@fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25 @sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown

@ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @teethinamber @blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion

@dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth @leeidk87 @cinnamowor1d

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @runawaybaby3 @vikasfemme @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@ferxanda @helaenabugmom @spookymomfriendtm

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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hungwy · 10 months ago

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A frighteningly old man, he has creases everywhere on his face and bushy grey eyebrows which cover his eyes. A leathery grandfather wearing a wide brimmed straw hat and a shirt of grey cotton which only half buttons up. He is hunched over in the field up to his ankles in terrible dirt. The share of the plough is encrusted in sparkling jewels. From sunrise to sunset the old leathery man plows bad dirt with the bejeweled plough. He is his own workhorse. He doesn’t know rest; the plough always waits impatiently for his hand. He knew rest once when he was young, all the young know rest well enough, but he has forgotten it, so now he cannot be said to know rest. He has worked so hard that even in sleep he only has painful dreams of the plough. Work is relieved by pain, and pain relieved by work. He is a widower but his house loves him despite being so dusty. It treats him kindly but he does not know it. It is the only thing that cares about him now. His mattress smiles sadly in the broken bedframe when he sleeps on it. It bends deeply enough that he is nearly upright in bed, like sleeping against a tree. "Grandfather, old man, you’ve been out plowing too much. You care so much about making use of this silly plough. Now the soil is not even good to work. You should be playing cards with the other old men at a small table on the sidewalk. You should be getting worked up over the wording of a song and you should sing it properly yourself. You should refuse to try a new drink when offered. You should say something only an old man would be allowed to say. Your stubbornness is deeply misplaced. You are out here, working endlessly and fruitlessly using a silly jewel-encrusted plough. There are no profits to be made now with such constant work. What have you done this whole time, grandfather, old man? Have you enjoyed anything? Is everything such a sad labor to you? To be so blind by work to forget rest, this is no good. Life is built, lived in, renovated, lived in, changed slightly, destroyed, rebuilt, lived in, died in. To only build and build and build, that is to build an ever-growing tower of a life that is never lived in, one which will crumble without care. Walls and floors and furnishings must be added, and what’s more, enjoyed. Come back from the fields, old man, leave that silly plough to rot in the rain now. Please, rest your skin and bones, you have baked in that sun every day for 80 years. And for what? More work? What little rest you have left, please my friend, make use of it." This is what the house wants to say to him. But its walls groan in the wind instead; its tin roof chatters in the rain. In the morning fingers of sun reach into the windows and grope ratty mats and dusty carpets and recoil at the glass of a photo: a much younger man with slicked back hair and a kerchief around his neck. Is that a smile on him? Where did it go? One can find old words in the corners of the house which that once young man had uttered. None of them belong to the old man now, they are forgotten; only fresh wistless sighs bounce lively like rats across the floorboards when he eases himself into the broken bed. At night, the plough waits. It always waits; there is something to be done when the plough waits. Even at night he should be working. Its shape is seared into the old man’s thin dreams. Every dream it gains more jewels; a sapphire, an opal, an emerald, a pearl. It does not make the work better, and the jewels are so buried under soil that they do not even make the work nicer to do. The jewels coax him back to the plough, to work one more day, for one more jewel, for one less moment of rest. The house sits alone from sunrise to sunset and creaks under the weight of the dust.

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reborn-readings · 4 months ago

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What does your voice need from you at this moment?

Tip Jar | Masterlist | Personal Readings

Hello hello! Back with a new Pick a Pile, the second one in my 'needs from you' series, this time focused on steps you can take to heal your voice 💙

This is a group reading, so take what resonates and leave the rest. Don't force anything if it does not fit. Remember that the future is not set in stone and that other potential paths exist depending on your movement through the course of time.

Pile 1 (Left)

This is an odd pile to start out with in the context of this being a spread about your voice. In this spread, I see you doing more than telling or saying. I see you as someone with a mastery over money, a willingness to train and grow, maybe to the point of your own detriment, and someone with a lot of impact and opportunity. But what I don’t see is recognition.

In traditional Ride-Waite-Smith tarot, the journey of the pentacles is not complete until we recognize and enjoy the fruits of our labor and pass them on to the people we love. I see some blocked energy when it comes to this. The cycle is not complete without play and recognition. You are a very hard worker, but you are not being recognized for it.

Is there a person in your life who’s driving you away from your due reward? If so, you should look deeply at your relationship with this person. They may not be doing this on purpose, but it is starting to wear you out. You are a powerful person, and they know it, so maybe it’s difficult to be frank and honest with them when it comes across as intimidating to them. But your voice wants you to know that you are sacrificing it to keep the peace. It wants you to ask earnest questions, to seek to connect, to understand and be understood at an even pace. You will not have the answer to every question, and you will learn to live with that, but right now, questions and answers are the bridges that you build using your voice to access a better life.

Other messages - New opportunities abound, though you may not see them yet. Take a break. Gather your inner strength. If there’s someone you trust to mediate, pull them in. You are guarded. You are secure. Trust me.

Symbols - The four elements. White dragon. Lemons. Spiting your face for others. Sitting on a couch at night. Overextended favors.

Pile 2 (Middle)

My friend, Pile 2, I could feel the lump in your throat from the moment I drew the first card. Life is heavy right now. Not just heavy with grief or sorrow, but also heavy with joy. Does that make sense? There is so…much...going on right now. There are areas of your life where you feel exuberant, euphoric, absolutely bursting with joy, as if you’re a child frolicking through a field of flowers, barreling through the woods in full summer foliage. There are other parts of you that are choked with grief, areas of your life that perhaps you miss, what feels like holes in you from past events. You don’t feel like you’re strong enough to contain all of this, am I right?

I ask you this: why do humans have strength? Why can we hold only so much? Why can we lift some burdens and not others? Why, after carrying what was easy for a long time, does it suddenly become difficult? Whatever the answer may be, burdens are meant to eventually be set aside, though it may feel heartbreaking to let go. And your voice is a wonderful conduit to take what you carry inside you and set it down in the outside world, whether that be in the ears of others or muffled into your pillow at night.

Your voice wants you to let the waters loose. It may feel overwhelming, like a flood, at first, but soon, with proper care given to your voice, it will feel like a babbling brook snaking its way through you, carrying out what no longer helps you. The only way to get rid of the dirty water is to let the faucet go for a bit. This will help you feel better, let you think more clearly, and ease the burdens in your heart.

Don’t be afraid to be still for a while. Don’t get so caught up in life that you miss what it feels like to become relieved and at peace. Those are experiences just like everything else. Strive for balance, but don’t strive too hard. Pay attention to your emotions and your expression and, over time, they will lead you along the right way.

Other messages - Keep friends who care for you close and let other relationships go. In stillness the answer will be revealed. Major FOMO vibes – enjoy what you can in the moment.

Symbols - Pale snow. Watercolor. A basket full of something that you’d carry in a grocery store? Going out with your friends. Magic show.

Pile 3 (Right)

I have to say, Pile 3, in all my years of tarot, I’ve never pulled a spread and so quickly went ‘Wow. This person really has their life together!’ I get ‘cool’ vibes from you. The kind of person always showing up in daring but trendsetting outfits, never afraid to speak their minds, someone who people naturally gravitate toward even if they’re too cool to be seen hanging out with any old Joe off the street.

Yet I can tell that you feel like something is missing, and I can tell you what it is. You’re smart as a whip and about as gentle as one too, someone who knows how to make their way through life in a calm and clean manner, and someone who knows how to be hot and passionate when it’s called for, but there’s a distinct lack of fulfillment in the emotional department. You are a fortress standing tall on a hill, but when you look down and see the trees bunched up together to make a forest, you wonder if maybe you’re doing something wrong by being solitary. If you already have it made, are you missing out on the pleasure of making?

Of course, it might feel awful to think about showing this to anyone. It would tarnish your shine. And you don’t know if you could ever work your way back from that. But there is a transformative power in you. You can take any shape you please and guide others to be the best that they can be as well. You just have to have faith in yourself.

Your voice is the tool you can use to help others. And when you help others, you earn their respect and they will help you in turn. Everybody loves a role model, a helper, but they also love to be useful in return. If you open yourself up to the people knocking on the door of your soul, you will find a menagerie of polite houseguests who can help you find that missing piece.

Telling the truth doesn’t always mean sitting down and making a big show of it. Sometimes it can be something quiet and intimate, a true, one=on-one connection that fulfills you. I see you forging some genuine and mutually beneficial contacts with others. You, despite and because of your talent, are a part of the world. Come live in it!

Other messages - Find a balance. Spirit is guiding you. Look for the most obvious solution.

Symbols - Hands in the mud. A distinctive stud earring. Gentleness. Cherry. A thick coat. Many, many animals showing up—swan, butterfly, seabirds, big and small cats, farm animals. Something having to do with heat and hoarding.

If this was helpful, please consider donating and/or getting a personal reading💙

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

#pac #pap #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #oracle cards #oracle readings #spirituality #divination #metaphysical

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katyawriteswhump · 6 months ago

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Steddie Wiggly Wednesday🪱🐛🪱🐛

Thanks for the tag @wheneverfeasible and @medusapelagia and possibly some other lovely moots. Sorry, I move in ice ages!

CW for original character death. Don't worry, Steddie and all canon characters are safe.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Steve has an older brother, Cal, less than two years older than him. He loves his brother and hates his guts because Cal is stupidly perfect.

Not just grade A student perfect and state championship tennis finals perfect. Cal is so ridiculously, effortlessly nice. He floats above the High School popularity monster on some cotton-candy cloud of perfection—so high above all the shit that he can play Dungeons and Dragons with Eddie ‘freakshow’ Munson every week and walk away untarnished.

Steve’s pretty popular too, but he’s laboring for it the hard way— hanging with the ‘right’ crowd, dating the ‘mean’ girls. He’s sweating it out on the basketball court, barely scraping through the classes that Cal aced. Of course, his parents are pissed, and he knows he’ll never emerge from Cal’s perfect shadow. Cal secretly gave Steve all his old class notes to copy and offered to coach him, but Jesus, who’s gotten time for that shit?

So yeah, Steve hates Cal, and he loves him too. When Steve figures he might be bi, he’s in need of his brother like never before, though can’t find the right words. He’s got a dumb crush on Tommy H and… Ugh, it’s not like he can tell Tommy, and even when Steve gets over his crush, nobody in Hawkins is gonna accept that kind of shit.

Naturally, his perfect brother sees when Steve stops hanging with Tommy and the others. Sees when Steve stops dating. On that spring night, when it’s only the two of them and a sixpack at home by the pool, Cal knows. Even before Steve starts to inarticulately explain how confused and screwed up he is. Even before Steve tells Cal he’s over Tommy, but he’s definitely queer, and faking being the Steve Harrington the world wants to see is killing him. He’s failing his classes, and Hargrove is humiliating him on the basketball court. Steve’s got a totally messed up crush on Billy too, even though the guy treats him like dirt. Steve is scared Billy knows, and… Crap, why is his life such a mess?

He cries. He hates himself for it, but he cries, and it’s okay, because he’s got his brother, and he hates how perfect Cal is. But Cal is always gonna be there, and he’ll always have his back.

Cal is off to MIT in the fall. So yeah, that’s gonna suck, until… Cal doesn’t go. Instead, he gets sick.

Really sick. Steve’s worried, but this is Cal, he’s perfect. Everyone says that Cal is gonna ‘beat it.’ As if, because he’s a good person, he’s going to somehow exert his magic over whatever fucked-up biology is destroying his body.

Cal has three months to live.

Eddie is devastated. It was supposed to be Cal’s final campaign before he ascended to the higher plane of an Ivy League school. Now it’s simply final.

Suddenly, Eddie is moving Hellfire Club to Hawkins General Hospital, and then hosting it at the fucking Harrington’s. Nobody is shrieking or dousing him in Holy Water, and it would be hilarious, if it wasn’t so horrible. Obviously, Eddie is determined to make it the greatest, most metal campaign he’s ever conducted. He’s crumbling inside. They all are. These are the last days he gets to share with the guy from the ‘right’ side of the rails who looked at Eddie and saw Eddie, rather than the con-supremo-spawn of Al Munson.

Cal’s a-hole kid brother, Steve, starts hovering around when they’re playing. For obvious reasons. He needs to cling to every last moment with Cal, too. Lurking in dark corners, Steve starts staring at Eddie so hard it gets creepy. Eddie knows he’s pretty magnetic when he’s in full-on DM mode, but this is weird. Obviously, Steve must want ‘in,’ so Eddie reluctantly offers to help him draw up a character card, and… shock horror.

Steve Harrington isn’t that much of an a-hole. Now, it’s just the two of them, laughing and sketching and conjuring with D and D ideas, and Steve’s oddly jumpy. He doesn’t seem to be able to look Eddie in the eye, keeps staring at Eddie’s mouth, then touching his own, licking his lips. Eddie is… confused. Steve Harrington is cute. He is also supposed to be a repellent jock—not this guy who swerves maniacally between hilariously bitchy sniping and self-effacing over-apologies.

Once Eddie gets Steve going in Hellfire, Steve is stupidly over-confident, almost back to dumbass-Steve-the-jock. Eddie has a billion chances to slaughter him, and he refrains. For Cal.

Oh, and because, Eddie’s got a stupid crush on his friend’s kid brother. He figures out there is barely a year age gap between him and Steve, though. Cal was old in his year group, and Eddie one of the younger ones.

Still irrelevant. Steve is straight. Eddie’s 100% sure. Well, he would be, if Steve would stop blushing and glancing away whenever Eddie seeks eye contact.

Then Cal calls Eddie one night, asks him to come over. Cal’s getting sicker, so he detonates the bombshell.

You’d be perfect for my brother, man.

What the fuck?

Okay, so he doesn’t press Cal for details. It’s implied that Steve is into guys, but… Woah! Too much! His sick friend wants him to date his younger brother? Like, a dying wish? Yeah, Eddie likes Steve, and now he’s starting to read Steve’s feelings into the way Steve acts around him. But no way are they perfect for each other.

He gives it a shot.

On their first date, Eddie takes Steve to a dive bar Cal used to love more that it deserved, and where Eddie sometimes performs with Corroded Coffin. They make out around the back, against some dingy brick wall. They’re slightly drunk, and the kiss is wet and messy, and they’re stupid happy and then both so stupid sad that they stop trying not to be. They can’t kiss away the pain, but they can kiss. They cry so hard.

Eddie has found another Harrington brother who actually sees him. It occurs to him, more gradually, that he’s the only person in the world, other than Cal, who actually sees Steve.

What the fuck AGAIN?

And then he’s the only person left in the world who sees Steve, and besides Wayne, Steve is the only person left who really sees Eddie.

Steve loves Cal so much, and he hates him. He was so fucking perfect that he couldn’t possibly ditch his little brother without setting him up with a soulmate.

🪱🐛🪱🐛

My ST fic on AO3

no pressure tags: @mugloversonly @tea42 @fuctacles @queenie-ofthe-void

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve and eddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #wriggly wednesday #wiggle wednesday #steddie au

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pinkmoonastro · 9 months ago

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Sexual Fantasies: Mars in Composite 1/2

TAROT EDITION

Im on my 50 shades of grey erotica shitttt make the pronouns fit however you need to

1H/Aries: The Devil: This person has stamina for daysss. They love to see you whimpering, gripping the sheets begging for mercy. Sex with them is so much fun, its so spontaneous you love having sex all over the house. Sitting on top of the bathroom counter pent against the mirror thats still steamy from the shower yall just took. Bodies still wet. 9 of Pentacles: Come put that pussy on my lap! They want you to come sit on their lap and tell them about your day. Page of Pentacles: Lets go on a date but heres the twist he has you put on vibrating panties. Foreplay the entire car ride to dinner. You arrive at a very nice restaurant, one of your favorites. You get settled in the vibes are emulate the lights and dim the music is soft and comforting. Your making eye contact over a perfectly sweet and sharp glass of wine. He begins to enjoy watching have control over you with the push of a button. Ace of Wands: He's going to teach how he likes he likes to be touched. He talks you through it very softly but still so direct. Two of Pentacles: This goes along with touching him, he wants to put you to work so attentively you notice every little twitch and deep breath. Song: Discipline- Janet Jackson

2H/Taurus: Six of Cups: They love to buy you gifts. They want to know with certainty there serious about you and want you to enjoy the fruits of their labor. Thats the type of love they make too. Slow and steady you gotta get yours first. Seven of Pentacles: He takes you shopping then bends you over in the dressing room lifting up the dress he just bought you. Ten of Wands: He hand feeds you grapes as he's bonding you up. You feel the pressure from the ropes, deep breaths send shocks through your body. Your calm. Bent over on all fours. He looks at you and ask, Are you ready for your discipline? Judgement: Giving you backshots your bodies mesh into each other so well the rhythm so perfect. He leans down towards you feeling his weight on your body makes you moan he pulls you up towards him ''shhh be quiet". Four of Pentacles: He's so attentive to your body massaging you from the scalp to the soles of your feet. He knows all the tricks he has up his sleeve for you and needs you as relaxed as possible. Song: Say Yes- Floetry *i pulled a lot of the same cards in 3H and had to re pull you should read that one too*

3H/Gemini: King of pentacles: He plays it cool in public you may even think he's not even interested but in reality hes undressed you with his eyes so many times thinking about all the different places and positions he would put you in. Ofc sexually but its more than that. He has plans to change your life, making sure he's forever imprinted on you. Nine of Wands: You would go to war for each other. The bond you share deeper than you ever thought it would be. You balance each so well. The physical and spiritual have come together in harmony. Nine of Swords: Girl... You wore him out. He didnt know you could go for so many rounds. You drained everything out of him literally. Justice: He's never experienced sex the way he has with you. He's so happy to have met someone like you. It feels like hes been waiting for so long. Always being the person to satisfy in the bedroom but never satisfied. He feels he met his energetic equal. Five of Swords: The way he eats your pussy puts you in a trance. He moves his fingers in and out of you so precisely feeling your ques making your body levitate. It leaves you speechless. Song: Speechless- Beyonce *this one isnt as sexual i pulled alot of the same cards in 2H you should read that one too*

4H/Cancer: Four of Cups: The sexual appetite is unequal someone can also be ungrateful for the efforts applied by the other. Knight of Pentacles: This person can look so unsuspecting then you come together and they end up being so freaky your truly surprised to realize they study tantric sex practices. Always learning something new about sex teaching their partner new ways to experience something they may have done many times before. The Fool: Late night pull up, Off the don julio act a foolio! They pull up on you with the vibes. The mood is set, lights dim, incense burning, smoking and sipping the conversation just flowing over a fire ass playlist. Yall take yall time catching up its no rush. Then you get to doing what grow folks do when they grown and in love. Ten of Swords: This person will literally go to war about you. This makes me think of a video i seen where a couple was on an escalator and a person pranked them by flirting with his girlfriend infront of him and he yolked him up and she was so unbothered. Nine of Wands: Yea this placement gives toxic vibes, a lot of jealously and possessiveness. Some people like that though. Song: Mine- Kevin Gates / Hate it here- Moneybag Yo

5H/Leo: King of Pentacles: Its early in the morning, He's in the kitchen leaning against the countertop drinking a cup of coffee on a business call. You approach him still naked and blissful from last nights rendezvous. Ever so lightly kissing his left cheek then the right. Moving your way down to his neck, then the chest, making your way slowing down his body unzipping his pants looking into his eyes as he attempts to maintain his poise. Emperor & Empress: The fact that i pulled both the cards together says alottttt. This is a vibe. Your energy flows so well together. Sex with this person feels like you've met your equal. The relationship is so fun because you both enjoy the same pleasures, you both feel lucky to be with one another. When on dates everyone pays attention the energy is so strong, almost intimidating. You look so good together and everyone can tell it goes down in the bedroom. The intimacy builds stronger through the patience and the simple pleasures you experience together. Queen of pentacles: It turns him on to see you relaxed and in your element. Your tied to the bed eyes covered your senses are taken on a journey. Lighting brushing a peony up your body then bringing it around to your nose. Deep inhales and light moans taking in the light citrus scent. The room is covered in fresh flowers, it smells like love. Song: Dangerously in love- Beyonce *the cards picked for this one.... chefs kiss*

6H/Virgo: Knight of Cups: Both of you let the flood gates loose if you know what i mean. I just keep thinking about that 50 cent song have a baby by me baby be a millionaire. They think about what life will be like once you have a family together. Two of Cups: A dinner date but its in house candles lit the night is beautiful the stars are out. He cooks you a wonderful meal you enjoy it over a nice glass... or two or three... of wine then you become the meal. Page of Pentacles: Your meeting his family for the first time everyone loves you. Your sitting at the dinner table hes on the left of you. He puts his hand on your thigh squeezes. Your legs brushing up against one another. Adrenaline ripples like waves through your body. Six of Pentacles: He calls you over to him he has a stack of money in this hand smiling at you he re positions himself in the chair he pats his lap and motions for you to come to him. Straddling him you whine back and forth feeling him grow under you. Kissing, your bodies pressed into each other the bills start to shower you. Three of Wands: Laying in bed watching the sunrise talking about your future together, creating scenarios of what life will be like once you have children together, what their names will be, how you'd imagine they'd look, what you'll be spending time doing. Manifesting your life together watching the sunrise in each others arms. Song: Baby By Me- 50 Cent

Like for part 2!

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splishfish · 6 months ago

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Tomura fucking reader while playing video games? 👅

Tomura Shigaraki x AFAB Reader

Tags: Creampie, Cunnilingus, Humping, Slow sex turned into Rough sex, slight choking, slight edging, Praise, Pre-Established Relationship, Fondling

WC: 2.0K

“You’re doing so good…fuck…”

Authors note at the bottom!

Sitting in his gaming chair with his legs crossed and his hands idly scratching his neck, the monitor behind him displayed a popular battle royale. Fortnite. Unfortunately he wasn’t playing, having been quickly knocked and eliminated, his reboot card having expired seconds before you managed to collect it.

He scowled as he watched the tv only a few feet away from him, your character sprinting through the grassy fields of the forest, looting golden chests and replacing your weapons whenever you found a better one.

Quickly getting bored of the screen, his eyes trailed towards you. You laid on your stomach kicking your legs in the air as you played. Xbox controller in your hand clicked silently, your face scrunched up in concentration as you started a fight. His eyes began to explore your body, lingering on your pretty ass which was hidden under your pants.

He hummed to himself before hopping off his chair, climbing into bed with you and straddling your thighs. Your voice was soft and low as you spoke, clearly still invested in the game ahead of you.

“What’re you doin’?” He didn’t respond, his hands coming down to fondle your ass. The clothed flesh pooled out of his fingers with each grope, the sight causing his eyes to narrow with lust. He could hear your small protests, something about losing the game, but he didn’t care. Instead, his hand trailed up your body, sliding under your shirt to gently tug your pants down to your thighs. His free hand lifted your waist, ignoring your protests once again.

“Hey. Stop it. I’m trying to win for us.”

Your voice was faint in his mind, the sight of your panty covered ass was incredibly arousing. He could feel his cock beginning to warm up, heat rushing down as he grinned and began to fondle your ass again. Your skin was warm against his hands, and he couldn't resist pulling the thin fabric of your underwear aside, exposing your pretty cunt to the cold air. He watched you shudder, attempting to shield yourself from the cold by pressing your thighs together.

He pursed his chapped lips in disapprovement, his hands spreading your thighs as much as he could with your pants still in the way. Sliding his hand between the small gap he had created, he ran his fingers up and down your slit, tapping your clit occasionally with his index finger.

Your breath hitched as his hand began to play with your folds, your hands instinctively gripping the controller tighter. A small flush formed on your cheeks, but you desperately attempted to ignore the building pressure. You were top 50, you could win this!

Unaware of your thoughts, Tomura continued to rub his fingers between your lips, watching with amusement as you began to lubricate yourself, a slick noise beginning to echo through the room. Your thighs continued to squeeze his hand, your pants still hugging your thighs. Huffing with frustration, he decayed your pants, spreading your legs with his hands and settling himself between them. Lowering himself down, he used two of his fingers to spread your folds before letting a glob of spit fall onto your hole.

His fingers prodded your hole gently, before he lowered himself onto your pussy, a lewd slurping sound following after. His tongue lapped at your fluids, the warm fleshy walls twitching under his eager muscle. He heard your breathing become labored, moans slowly spilling from your mouth as your hips wiggled in pleasure. He grinned, his lips wrapping around your clit and gently rubbing it with his tongue, the bud throbbing with each stroke.

Your eyes could barely focus on the screen by now, your hands shaking around the controller as you struggled to maintain your composure. You painted softly, your character idly crouching behind a building as you took a few minutes to indulge in the pleasure. You could feel the familiar coil in your stomach beginning to form, your body beginning to twitch in anticipation.

He hummed around your pretty pussy, the acidic flavor of your arousal causing his chapped and split lips to sting, but he didn’t mind. His own hips began to desperately hump against the mattress, his cock straining and aching in his sweats. He could feel his cock leaking impatiently, his boxers already forming a damp spot where his cock pulsed.

When he finally couldn’t handle the building pressure of his groin, he pulled away from your cunt, watching your hole flutter against nothing before pulsing softly.

You sighed in relief and disappointment, your body trembling slightly as you forced your eyes to open again, attempting to focus on the screen as your orgasm slowly began to ebb away. Your grip on the controller came back, and your eyes glanced up at the amount of players remaining.

13 players. That meant 5 duos remaining, with only you remaining without a teammate.

Shuffling out of his clothes, he grunted in relief as the unbearable heat in his pants dissipated, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock. He hissed slightly as his rough and calloused hand began to slowly stroke himself, using the seemingly never ending stream of precum to lubricate his penis.

Once he was wet enough, he crawled on top of you, his arms caging you in as he buried his face in your hair. He took a deep breath, releasing a shuddering sigh as he rubbed his cock up and down your folds, bumping your clit with his cock and just barely teasing your entrance.

Your body tensed up as he began to hump you, a pleading whine escaping you as you complained.

“Don't do this Tomu, can you wait? Please? Holy shit I'm in the top 7!”

Your excitement was quickly shoved away in favor of a sudden feeling of fullness, a loud choked out moan escaping your lips as Tomura shoved his length deep inside your velvety walls. The controller nearly fell out of your hands as he began to shallowly thrust into you, your head falling forwards as a whimper left your lips. Using one of his hands to shoverd your hair to the other side of your shoulder, he left sloppy wet kisses along your neck, grunting as he spoke.

“Keep playing…if you don’t win I won't let you cum…”

His words sent a shiver of fear down your spine, your hands immediately readjusting their grip on the controller. You could feel his heavy balls brushing against your clit, occasionally rubbing against your puffy folds as he barely moved his hips against you.

This is fine. You could deal with this, surely. You just needed to take down 6 more people! You can do this! With a newfound vigor, you refocused your eyes on the game, your breathing shallow and shaky.

He grinned as he watched the character on the screen begin to move again, his hips slowly beginning to thrust against yours. He grunted in your ear, your ass jiggling with each snap of your hips, his public hair growing damp with your slick. His eyes lazily trailed up to watch you play, your shots barely landing against any of your opponents. He giggled softly in your ear, nipping at your earlobe as he murmured.

“You’re doing so good…fuck…”

You couldn’t tell if he was complimenting your game or your cunt, but at this point you couldn't be bothered to figure it out. You could barely play the game with the way his length bullied your insides, every thrust shaping your walls to his shape. The feeling was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help the mewls and moans that left your lips.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as your shield broke, your damage tanking as a rain of bullets hit your character. A string of curses that could be interpreted as a lengthy moan escaped your throat, your body beginning to bounce as Tomura’s pace began to speed up. His ragged breathing was brushing by your ear, grunting small praises as he felt your walls fluttering around his aching cock.

He looked down to where you both connected, a creamy ring of your fluids coating his cock. He moaned at the sight, his patience finally snapping as he began to brutally fuck his cock into your insides. The slapping of skin echoed in the room, drowning out the sounds of the controller clicking and the tv speakers. The tip of his cock began to throb, his entire body shaking as the warmth of your heat clouded his thinking. Between rough thrusts and moans, he growled into your ear.

“You better win before I cum, or else I’m leaving you here stuffed and unsatisfied…and don't even think about throwing the game either…”

His threats caused you to clench around him, the fear of not being able to orgasm made your body ache, instinctively trying to suck him deeper inside. You could hear his cruel giggles echoing in your mind, your eyes watering slightly. The game was nearly over, the storm shortening the arena until all remaining players were left exposed in the open area. You took advantage of what you could, your mind hazy as the line between the need to win and the urge to cum blurred.

You felt your body move on autopilot, your fingers moving over the triggers of the controller without thought, your character rushing into battle, your health depleting with each bullet that dug into your hitbox. Despite all this, the coil in your stomach seemed to grow tighter and tighter, your clit desperately throbbing with need as it bumped against the mattress in tune with Tomura’s thrusts.

You barely registered the glowing flash of the screen or the clattering noise the controller made as it fell to the floor. The slow motion imagery of your character killing its last opponent being the last thing you see before Tomura yanked your head to the side and smashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. Your eyes rolled back as he grasped your throat, using your body as a handle to fuck himself deeper into you, your hands dropping the controller.

You could barely think, all thoughts clouded by the unbearable urge to cum. Every vein, every curve and movement of his cock against your walls made you cry out in pleasure. He was no different, growling and huffing down your throat as his hips lost their rhythm, lost in the pleasure of your gushing heat.

You could feel his weight shifting against your back, and suddenly his cock was hitting the side of your insides. The new and sudden feeling had your toes curling, a guttural scream of delight escaping your throat as he just barely bumped against your g-spot, your eyes rolling back as a flash of colors invaded your vision.

Tomura swore loudly in your ear as he felt your heat finally convulse around him, your hips jerking into the mattress as you tried to simultaneously pull away and take him deeper. Your sweet moans, your intoxicating scent, your hot fucking pussy, it was all too much for him. He bit down on your neck as he reached his own orgasm, his seed filling your insides and coating your walls.

Almost immediately after he had finished, he pulled out, ropes of cum shooting on your ass as he whined from overstimulation, the intense orgasm still rushing through him. As you both caught your breaths, he pressed his forehead against your shoulder, murmuring softly as he caressed your side.

“Fuck…I love you…that was great…” You responded with a soft whine, just barely tilting your head to press a kiss to his temple. It took you a moment to catch your breath, and when you did you finally responded

“Love you too Tomu…” The sound of your combined breathing was peaceful, the afterglow of your lovemaking made your body slump over in relief, a pleasure filled hum escaping your lips. After a few moments you curiously asked.

“...Were you serious when you said you wouldn’t let me cum if I didn't win?”

He grunted in acknowledgement of your question, taking a moment to think.

“No…I just didn’t want to lose my victory royale streak.”

“Are you serious?”

This is my second request! As you can see...I went a little overboard LOL! I'll be honest, as soon as I got this request, it hit me that I never wrote a staple oneshot of the TomuraFucker community...fucking while playing games...I'm a little disappointed in myself for making this AFAB instead of GN! but I hope its okay! I plan on writing a GN!Reader one soon of this same prompt, so stay tuned! ALSO IDK IF U CAN TELL BUT THIS IS MY LONGEST ONESHOT!! 2,037 WORDS! WOW! TY FOR REQUESTING!! I love writing yall's requests! Should I do post for rules / info on requests?

Did you enjoy this? Check out my Masterlist for more!

#bnha #bnha shigaraki #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha tomura #mha tomura #mha shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #smut #tenko shimura #oneshot #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #reqs open #request #afab reader

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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The unexpected upside of global monopoly capitalism

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TODAY (Apr 10) at UCLA, then Chicago (Apr 17), Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Here's a silver lining to global monopoly capitalism: it means we're all fighting the same enemy, who is using the same tactics everywhere. The same coordination tools that allow corporations to extend their tendrils to every corner of the Earth allows regulators and labor organizers to coordinate their resistance.

That's a lesson Mercedes is learning. In 2023, Germany's Supply Chain Act went into effect, which bans large corporations with a German presence from using child labor, violating health and safety standards, and (critically) interfering with union organizers:

https://www.bafa.de/EN/Supply_Chain_Act/Overview/overview_node.html

Across the ocean, in the USA, Mercedes has a preference for building its cars in the American South, the so-called "right to work" states where US labor law is routinely flouted and unions are thin on the ground. As The American Prospect's Harold Meyerson writes, the only non-union Mercedes factories in the world are in the US:

https://prospect.org/labor/2024-04-08-american-workers-german-law-uaw-unions/

But American workers – especially southern workers – are on an organizing tear, unionizing their workplaces at a rate not seen in generations. Their unprecedented success is down to their commitment, solidarity and shrewd tactics – all buoyed by a refreshingly pro-worker NLRB, who have workers' backs in ways also not seen since the Carter administration:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/14/prop-22-never-again/#norms-code-laws-markets

Workers at Mercedes' factory in Vance, Alabama are trying to join the UAW, and Mercedes is playing dirty, using the tried-and-true union-busting tactics that have held workplace democracy at bay for decades. The UAW has lodged a complaint with the NLRB, naturally:

https://www.commondreams.org/news/alabama-mercedes-benz

But the UAW has also filed a complaint with BAFA, the German regulator in charge of the Supply Chain Act, seeking penalties against Mercedes-Benz Group AG:

https://uaw.org/uaw-files-charges-in-germany-against-mercedes-benz-companys-anti-union-campaign-against-u-s-autoworkers-violates-new-german-law-on-global-supply-chain-practices/

That's a huge deal, because the German Supply Chain Act goes hard. If Mercedes is convicted of union-busting in Alabama, its German parent-company faces a fine of 2% of its global total revenue, and will no longer be eligible to sell products to the German government. Chomp.

Now, the German Supply Chain Act is new, and this is the first petition filed by a non-German union with BAFA, so it's not a slam dunk. But supermajorities of Mercedes workers at the Alabama factory have signed UAW cards, and the election is going to happen in May or June. And the UAW – under new leadership, thanks to a revolution that overthrew the corrupt old guard – has its sights set on all the auto-makers in the American south.

As Meyerson writes, the south is America's onshore offshore, a regulatory haven where corporations pay minimal or no tax and are free to abuse their workers, pollute, and corrupt local governments with a free hand (no wonder American industry is flocking to these states). Meyerson: "The economic impact of unionizing the South, in other words, could almost be placed in the same category as reshoring work that had gone to China."

The German Supply Chain Act was passed with the help of Germany's powerful labor unions, in an act of solidarity with workers employed by German companies all over the world. This is that unexpected benefit to globalism: the fact that Mercedes has extrusions into both the American and German political spheres means that both American and German workers can collaborate to bring it to heel.

The same is true for antitrust regulators. The multinational corporations that are in regulators' crosshairs in the US, the EU, the UK, Australia, Japan, South Korea and beyond use the same playbook in every country. That's doubly true of Big Tech companies, who literally run the same code – embodying the same illegal practices – on servers in every country.

The UK's Competition and Markets Authority has led the pack on convening summits where antitrust enforcers from all over the world gather to compare notes and collaborate on enforcement strategies:

https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/cma-data-technology-and-analytics-conference-2022-registration-308678625077

And the CMA's Digital Markets Unit – which boasts the the largest tech staff of any competition regulator in the world – produces detailed market studies that turn out to be roadmaps for other territories' enforces to follow – like this mobile market study:

https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/media/63f61bc0d3bf7f62e8c34a02/Mobile_Ecosystems_Final_Report_amended_2.pdf

Which was extensively referenced in the EU during the planning of the Digital Markets Act, and in the US Congress for similar legislation:

https://www.congress.gov/bill/117th-congress/senate-bill/2710

It also helped enforcers in Japan:

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

And South Korea:

https://www.reuters.com/technology/skorea-considers-505-mln-fine-against-google-apple-over-app-market-practices-2023-10-06/

Just as Mercedes workers in Germany and the USA share a common enemy, allowing for coordinated action that takes advantage of vulnerable flanks wherever they are found, anti-monopoly enforcers are sharing notes, evidence, and tactics to strike at multinationals that are bigger than most countries – but not when those countries combine.

This is an unexpected upside to global monopolies: when we all share a common enemy, we've got endless opportunities for coordinated offenses and devastating pincer maneuvers.

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/2024/04/10/an-injury-to-one/#is-an-injury-to-all

#pluralistic #monopoly #labor #nlrb #germany #harold meyerson #supply chain act #right to work #onshore offshore #uaw #vance alabama #vance #alabama #bafa #mercedes #antitrust #trustbusting

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daycourtofficial · 1 year ago

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Laborious anxieties

Eris x Rhysand’s Sister!reader

Summary: based on this request - Eris is riddled with anxiety leading up to your labor, but what happens when some of his worst fears come to fruition?

Author’s note: this is technically a follow-up to A Starfall in Autumn, but could be read as a standalone 🥰 I kinda tore through writing this. I got the request at 7:45 and finished writing at 9:30. Forgive any spelling errors, I have ✨sick brain✨

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, blood loss

The last two weeks of your pregnancy had been a time riddled with anxiety.

You were fine - it was Eris who was unable to stay calm. It felt like a stranger was consuming your mate’s body the way nervousness radiated off of him these days.

And the way he clung to you was very unlike him.

He stepped back from High Lord duties for at least a month, delegating responsibilities amongst his brothers and advisors. He receives a summary of the day’s activities during dinner, and except for a trade agreement his brother signed that was less than advantageous for Autumn, everything was running fine.

Which meant your mate could spend all of his time worrying about you, following you around. He’d gotten so absurd he began having his hounds check you for any abnormalities, doing a ‘daily check’ where they sniffed you to ensure you were okay.

The moment you had told Eris of your pregnancy, his joy was very quickly eclipsed by his very sudden interest in providing you with more security. You had been able to talk him down from the initial twelve guards he wanted trailing you at all times to two guards and at least two of the hounds.

“One hound will stay and defend me, the other one will find you,” you had argued. He relented, but as you got closer and closer to your due date, his attempts at renegotiation were increasing by the day.

You had now agreed to four guards and six hounds with you at all times, unless you were with him.

Between the massive bump on your belly that makes maneuvering around very difficult and the entourage you’d have to take, you opt more often than not to stay in your chambers for most of the day.

One of Autumn’s advisors had suggested the birth be a public spectacle, and Eris grabbed him by the back of his shirt and threw him out of the room, stating, “you’ll be allowed back in when you’ve recovered from your sudden onset stupidity.”

You were glad, because even laboring privately didn’t keep it from being quite the spectacle. Three high lords were to be in Autumn around the birth: your brother, Rhysand, and Eris’s brother, Lucien.

Lucien offered to be available to you in any way he can be, so you took him up on that offer and begged him to take your mate away for an hour or so every day.

So every day at an hour past noon, Lucien would retrieve Eris, and they would play some sporting game they invented when Lucien was a child. They tried explaining it to you, but it never made any sense to you, so you opted to just let them enjoy themselves.

Today, Eris was running through the halls of the Forest House, cursing himself for putting his chambers so deep inside. The house was more fortified the further in you went, with many foxholes that can take you throughout the court. Now it was just a pain to get back to his mate who was definitely not okay.

His fingers made quick work of ruining his hair, a light sweat coating his skin as he flung open the door, preparing for the worst.

Instead, he found his insufferable brother in law opposite you on the bed playing a card game.

“Hi Er,” you say, lighting up at the sight of him, but quickly going back to the cards in your hand, determination in your features.

Clover, the eldest hound and your personal favorite, currently had her head resting against your bump. Her eyes tracked the room, searching for any movement that could be perceived as a threat. Her tail wagged softly at Eris’s entrance, but she remained fixed, guarding your unborn babe.

“Hi Er,” Rhys offers, not glancing up from his cards, “did you run here or do you get winded from these elaborate halls?”

Eris straightens his vest, closing the door behind him as he walks further into the room. “Someone was sending some very distressed signals down the bond.”

He keeps his eyes on you as your face softens, “oops, I was so focused on our game, I didn’t mean to. It’s just not fair because he cheats!”

“I have done no such thing! How dare you accuse a high lord of such a crime?”

You stick your tongue out at him, which he immediately returns. Eris rolls his eyes, well aware of how being around your brother turns the two of you into children. He heads into your private chambers, heading towards the bathroom to bathe.

After bathing and putting on fresh clothes, Eris is about to head back to the two of you, when he hears your soft voice whisper through the door, “I miss mother.”

He’s sure you’re curled up into Rhysand, peering into the violet eyes you both inherited from her. He turns back into the chambers, allowing the two of you to share your grief. As he retreats he does hear, “but I’ll have Eris’s mother. She’s not, y’know, but she’s great. If I can’t have mother, she’s a great stand-in.”

He smiles to himself, finding the book on his bedside table, and settling into the couch, letting the two of you have your privacy.

Rhys travels between Autumn and Night every morning and every afternoon, keeping you company during the morning as you become more and more confined to your bedchambers.

You weren’t technically ordered for bedrest, but moving about was incredibly taxing for you, especially when trying to wrangle the large entourage Eris insisted on.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Rhysand happened to be with you when your water broke.

Eris was at court settling a dispute between his idiotic advisors that they insisted required his input when Rhysand’s claws tapped his mind. Upon allowing him entry, he hears Rhysand’s voice trickle in.

It’s time.

Your contractions began, slow and unhurried, the cramping abismal. The contractions came quicker and quicker, time between shortening until your nursemaid tells you to start pushing.

You cry out as you do so, an intense pain coming from your pelvis. They tell you to stop, as they check to ensure your dilated enough to continue.

They motion for you to continue, but the pain only gets worse.

“She’s tearing dramatically,” one of the nurses says.

“What does that mean?” Rhys asks, holding your hand.

“Her circulation’s poor, likely because of the bedrest. She’s losing a lot of blood from these tears.”

Eris felt the primal rage of the mating bond heating his blood. They were talking about his mate in such a sterile, clinical way. Eris bared his teeth at them, but they did not back down, they would not back down, even to the commanding presence of multiple high lords.

“I need the two of you to leave, now. I need to focus, and I can’t do that with two high lords breathing down my neck.”

“Everyone here has her best interest at heart - I promise you, high lords, we will do our best for her,” another nursemaid says.

Eris’s eyes are fixed on your pale face, drained of any color. He doesn’t feel Rhys’s arm wrap around him, dragging him out of the room, nor does he feel the wall Rhys presses him against, giving him something to support his weight.

He can’t let that be the last memory he has of your face.

Lucien is in the hall, and Rhys is updating him on how much blood you loss. “Can’t Feyre’s blood heal? Can she come help?”

Eris snaps his eyes up to Rhysand, whose eyes have a vaguely glossy look to them.

“Please, Rhys.”

Eris did not beg. He accepted the hands he was dealt. He did not plead with his father, as the whip would strike his back. He did not plead with the Mother when he had to chase Lucien into Spring. He did not plead with the Cauldron or the stars asking for help.

But he would ask Rhysand.

“She’s on her way, she just has to get someone to care for Nyx.”

“Hel, she can bring Nyx and I can care for him,” Eris offered, reaching out to hold tightly onto that golden string connecting the two of you.

Rhys’s eyebrows raise, but Lucien cuts in, “brother, you are in no state to watch over a young child.”

“Since when have you had any experience with young children?”

Lucien balks, “the children of Spring were quite fond of me.”

Eris smirks, “pity the children of the court you preside over do not feel the same.”

Lucien is about to bite back when Rhys comes back to them.

“Okay, she’ll be here any minute now.”

Eris hated to do it, tampering with the wards of the Forest House to allow any member of your family entry in the past month.

Never has he been so grateful he did something he so staunchly opposed when Feyre appeared in front of them, a cooing Nyx in her arms that she quickly hands off to Lucien. She briefly lets her hand touch Rhys’s shoulder as she nods to Eris before running into the room.

Lucien holds Nyx, the young toddler providing amusement to the three high lords.

“Do you have a name?” Rhys asks, trying to distract Eris from the nervous meltdown he understood all too well.

“For a girl, we like Hestia Seline.”

Rhys’s eyes snap up, but Eris continues.

“Some ancient humans believed in multiple gods, one of which was the goddess of the hearth, Hestia. And Seline for..”

He gestures towards Rhys, letting his sentence finish there.

“You would allow a Vanserra to be named after my mother?”

Eris nods, “if she insisted,” a finger was pointed to the door you lay behind, in what condition Eris had no idea, “I’d let her name a Vanserra ‘Rhys Azriel Vanserra.”

Rhys grins, “but not Cassian?”

“We all must draw lines somewhere, Rhysand.”

Lucien hoists Nyx up into the air, his little wings fluttering, and Eris watches.

“I helped raise all of my brothers,” he states to no one in particular. “It would have been utter carnage if they had wings.”

“And Cassian only makes it worse.”

“Color me surprised. Don’t allow him home alone with Nyx, I’m sure he’ll throw him from your tallest balconies.”

Rhysand breathes through his nose, and Eris knows there’s a great possibility it is something that has already happened.

“What if it’s a boy?” Rhys asks, “you have Hestia Seline.”

“Jasper Camden.”

“Didn’t want another Beron around?” Lucien asks, pushing Nyx into the air on one arm.

“The day I give a child that name is the day I have been possessed.”

The conversation was helping distract Eris, but he kept a tight hold on the bond, ensuring you felt him no matter what.

Eris feels intense pain through the bond, and without thinking, he shoots up off the ground, and opens the door, promptly running into one of the nursemaids.

“High lord, she’s pushing again. The tears were healed, and she’s doing much better. I was just about to get you.”

He comes over to you, holding one of your hands. Feyre was tightly holding your other, holding a damp cloth to your forehead.

“Hello, my love.”

Eris isn’t sure when he started crying, but he knew he was when you smiled back at him, color back to your beautiful face.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a vampire now- ah!”

You breathe out slowly, and Feyre begins whispering words of encouragement to you.

“But my dear, you love the sun too much.”

You nod as you push, and the nurse tells you you can stop for a moment. You catch your breath, looking towards your mate.

“But I would have really cool fangs. I could taste your blood.”

He strokes the back of your hand, kissing your palm. “Anything you want, my love.”

Your labor continued, much faster now as you held onto Feyre and Eris’s hands, frequently apologizing if you break any fingers.

Eris never got to be around for this part. He was always kept in front of closed doors, anxiously waiting for his next brother, uncertain as to his mother’s state. His anxiety reprieved only hours after the actual labor, when he was allowed to visit his mother and new brother.

Now he was here, the bond thrumming between you two, as he got to hear the first cries of his babe. You almost fall back in exhaustion as your babe slides out, but Eris slides behind you, allowing you to rest against his chest.

He holds your sweaty face in his hands, hair damp, kissing your forehead, telling you how proud of you he was and how incredible you were.

The two of you listen to your babe’s cries as the nursemaid brings the babe to you, placing them on your chest.

Every exhalation is accompanied by a wailing too large for the small body as they breathe air into their lungs for the first time.

Eris places a hand on the babe’s back, hoping they’ll remember his touch from the womb. The babe was covered in birth, but Eris didn’t care. He knew being around for this part was a privilege he had never been afforded before.

He kisses your head again, as the nursemaid smiles at the two of you.

“It’s a boy.”

#acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you

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