#linked for anyone who actually wants to buy them

[horseimagebarn]

https://archive.is/LAwFB <- Here is a link to a 2023 National Geographic article about horse slaughter in the Americas. You might be interested to know that thoroughbreds actually make up only 10% of horses exported for slaughter. The vast majority of retired racehorses in the US and the UK that aren't kept for breeding purposes go on to second careers or are simply kept as companion animals. This is *NOT* to say that the racing industry doesn't have horrific problems, but rather that even when they don't succeed on the racetrack, the horses are still worth more alive than they are as food. Quarter horses, on the other hand...YEESH. Let's just say the Jockey Club keeps meticulous track of how many thoroughbreds are foaled every year. The AQHA...doesn't.

for context this ask is referring to this post i made yesterday

i have much to say on this and ended up just rambling about horse which i love to do when given an intriguing ask so here we go

punctuation and capitalization usage for ease of understanding GO!

sorry if this makes no sense i just went crazy and hate proofreading

Thoroughbreds are not the only racehorse, their racing is just the most popular kind in the States. Quarter horses are actually a bit faster than thoroughbreds, but that makes their races quicker and less entertaining to rich betters. Standardbreds and arabians are also popular racers, but standardbreds are used more in harness racing, and arabians for endurance. 

"Pinhooking" is a popular thing in horse racing. According to horseologyinc.com, "Pinhooking is a fancy term that describes the practice of buying a horse at one stage of development and selling them at the next." This makes it difficult to track every single horse's purchase history, because there are just so many transactions being made. The Jockey Club can track births, sure, and it can do its best to track deaths, but the births of potential successful racehorses are much more interesting to the organization than the deaths of former ones. Even if deaths were monitored with the same vigor, horses would slip through the cracks, and oh brother, they already do. It's impossible to expect an organization that facilitates the often-fatal exploitation of horses to be stalwart advocates of its victims' aftercare. Even if they witnessed the slaughter of thoroughbreds in Canadian slaughterhouses, what's the difference between a horse that died for meat and a horse that died for the entertainment of the bourgeoisie? They both end up dead, and the Jockey Club doesn't deal in dead horses, it deals in eventually dead horses.

Many racehorses are later sold out of the industry once they've served their two potential purposes: racing and breeding. Once a horse is sold to a private owner that isn't involved in the racing industry—including the Amish, who often buy ex-racers as work animals—the Jockey Club's influence, if there is any, can falter. Sure, some are treated with a lavish retirement at Old Friends or Akindale or even Puerto Rico, but many, many horses do not have that privilege. Horses do not have the pull (pun intended) they once did in American society. They are a luxury to most, as their cost of upkeep and maintenance often outweighs their function when compared to machinery that performs similar jobs. Kill buyers—those who buy horses in bulk to export for slaughter—buy horses private owners either cannot or do not want to keep investing in their companion. More often than not, they don't register their purchase of horses for slaughter with the Jockey Club, nor really with anyone, as laws surrounding horse slaughter and export are murky at best and nonexistent at worst. I want to provide you more evidence of this, but the Jockey Club's website keeps timing out for me, so I'll try later.

USA Today estimates that 7500 thoroughbreds are slaughtered for meat each year. When compared to the 57000 total horses slaughtered annually, this resembles the 10% number you gave me. Compare this to the 600 thoroughbreds estimated to die each year in race-related accidents. The racing industry is constantly criticized for its mistreatment of its horses and the deadliness of its sport, and yet, slaughter claims over 12 times the amount of thoroughbreds each year—likely more. I personally believe that it is very unlikely that kill buyers accurately judge the breeds of the horses they slaughter. These buyers process thousands of horses each year and transport them in large quantities. They do not care what breed the horses they process are. It's the meat that matters. Similarly, these kill buyers are not checking the lip of every horse they buy to see if it's a former racer. Some might, if they're looking to "ransom" some of their horses off—sell the horses to non-slaughterhouse buyers for much higher than the ~60 cents/pound they get for their meat—but it's unlikely. Mike McBarron, a long-time kill buyer in Texas, told USA Today Sports, "It’s just a job to me. I mean, I don’t attach myself to them." He went on to say that he has "bought and sold retired racehorses for slaughter [and] sent tens of thousands of horses to slaughter plants," generating "millions of dollars in revenue." To kill buyers like McBarron, these horses are products to be processed and shipped, not beings whose personalities and histories are meant to be known, or whose breeds are significant to their new function: becoming meat.

And this is just thoroughbreds. Quarter horses are the most popular breed of horse in the U.S., and, like you said, there's even less regulation of the sales of other breeds. I just think it's unfair to say that the Jockey Club cares enough about its horses that they don't end up in slaughterhouses.

By the way, I don't think it is morally wrong to eat horses. Cows, pigs, goats, sheep, chickens, and other livestock animals can have just as much personality as your average horse and are not afforded the public outcry horses receive when it comes to their slaughter. Horse lives are not worth more than other "farm" animals just because they are viewed as companion animals while the rest are not. I instead have a problem with the fact that horses used for meat are often severely mistreated, just as they are in the racing industry. Regulations have been put in place to improve the lives of many meat animals, and yet, the government largely shuffles its feet when it comes to regulating the production of horse meat. This encourages kill buyers to do shady business and mistreat their animals, exploiting a loophole in the government's weak implication of a ban on horse meat: in their 2006 budget, U.S. Congress decided to simply forbid the USDA (United States Department of Agriculture) from using taxpayers' money to inspect horse slaughter plants. This sort of banned horse slaughter by preventing horse slaughter plants from being USDA inspected or approved, making them functionally illegal, as they require regulation, but meant that kill buyers could instead simply collect horses and then sell them to slaughterhouses in Mexico and Canada for slaughter. This encourages a shitty, shady business of horse exportation, leading to horrible temporary holding conditions as horses wait to be transported across country borders in equally horrible trucks and trailers. If the industry was legal and faced the same regulations as other types of meat production, these horses would have much better lives. Though I am very aware of the many, many flaws of the meat industry, denying horses even those basic protections that are applied to meat animals, especially large ones like cows, only encourages abuse and mistreatment. Big advancements in animal welfare in the meat industry have been made in the past few decades, and it is not the ethical win many think it is to force horses to live in horrible, barely-legal conditions because it is hard to accept the facts that:

Horses are large, hard-to-care-for animals whose main function in American society has mostly become obsolete 

Even in their current major societal role, racing, they face massive amounts of abuse and mistreatment

There are a LOT of horses in the world (so many, in fact, that they sometimes become pests or invasive species)

Every single horse will not have the privilege of a forever home that can provide for them the utmost care

Some horses can live satisfactory lives as PROPERLY CARED FOR meat animals if given the chance

Horse meat is a valid, valued food source for many people

I know it's crazy for The Horse Blog to say they support horse meat production and consumption, but honestly, I've tried my best to express on this blog that no being is greater than another and all things deserve equal love and appreciation. It would be hypocritical of me to condemn horse meat consumption when I myself eat the meat of cows, pigs, and chickens, who are just as valuable as horses in the grand scheme of the universe. All living things have value that is not contingent on their perceived purpose or use. Meat consumption is a necessity for many in the world, both human and inhuman, and the consumption of meat on its own is not unethical. To live is to consume, be it meat, vegetation, oxygen, water, time, space, etc. and I believe that we should strive not to abhor consumption but do it ethically, in alignment with our world's fragile, functional balance of creation and destruction, and with utmost respect for that which we consume. Horses deserve that respect.

anyway yeah feel free to engage with me on this i like discussing stuff like this and spent way too long thinking and researching and stuff

Sources: "Horses go from racetracks to slaughterhouses: 'It's just a job to me'" by Josh Peter with USA Today

"Horse racing deaths mount as states spend billions to keep tracks alive" by Frank Esposito and Stephen Edelson with USA Today Network

"What is Pinhooking? The History and Practice of Pinhooking." from horseologyinc.com

"Horse Racing Fact Sheet" from fundforhorses.org

ps this wasnt made as an attack on you anon or anything i like to write horse essay style posts sometimes like this and this because its honestly super fun for me and i love receiving these types of asks i am always happy to talk about horse stuff at length like this because i end up learning a lot about these subjects too as i go

[dont-sweatshirt-the-smallstuff]

…Guys I need $400 for these shoes

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

ayo this pretty cool

[id: active style manual wheelchair with frame made of rectangle wood planks screwed together. end id]

as we know active type wheelchair very expensive, & repair need buy from specific medical manufacturer n take very long time. someone (who wheelchair user themself of near 40 years) made open source active manual wheelchair where most (if not all?) material from commercial easy get materials! wood, plastic, pvc pipe, & those commercial aluminum square pipe things. n they put guide made them yourself in link for anyone want try make

this video from their instagram show their wood frame wheelchair actually pretty durable, include clip from everyday use & even drop wheelchair all over place (basically imagine what airline do to them…) - n wheelchair stay in tact! n even if some part break - it easy change because wood planks all screwed together so you just buy wood plank & unscrew & rescrew.

not great for people w advanced seating positioning needs probably (think if only problem is easy butt pressure sore, maybe can still use this + supportive cushion but think beyond that it get hard). but if like you don’t need those things then maybe fun project?

have not use for self so can’t actually talk about experience but it look pretty cool

edit: reblog this version instead

[fubblers]

To younger broke adults getting into sex work here’s some common scams:

“I’ll pay you $ every week for feet/genital/fetish pics” they start a long conversation about this. Then they convince you to send some sample pics. They will try to get you to enact their fetishes with promise of later payment. Then they cut and run. They will be kind, promise large things, but become aggressive when you refuse. Lesson: never give things for free unless you’re specifically doing it for marketing. Personalized fetish content should require payment upfront.

“I want to be your sugar mommy/daddy” These are insanely common and will use a variety of tactics. They prey on vulnerable broke people who are desperate for stable cash. They may try to use a BDSM dynamic to make you feel sexy and submissive. They’ll start a long flirty conversation that makes you feel good and desired and confident. Then they might send a link…. Don’t click it! Or they might ask you to “prove your loyalty” as their sub/babygirl/whatever. Proving your loyalty will probably involve sending them money in some way. The most common way is to buy a gift card and tell them the code. If a stranger ever asks you to buy them a gift card that’s pretty much always an instant block.

The same thing goes for “pay pigs”. There are very few people out there actually into financial domination. Chances are people promising you access to their bank accounts are liars trying to get dommed by a stranger, or scammers trying to get money from you.

There’s essentially two main categories of scams in sex work: 1. Traditional scams (trying to get money, personal info, account access) and 2. Freebie scams (trying to get your SW content for free)

Freebie scams can involve someone trying to piss you off so you curse them out and they can go jerk it to being rejected by someone hot. You can just block people being weird.

As a new or established SWer you literally don’t owe anyone anything unless they’ve specifically paid for a service you offer.

[cythena]

IF I HAD TO CHOOSE . . .

warnings . . . tits ass or thighs? multi fandom blog post ( JJK, GENSHIN, KNY, BLLK, TOKYO REVENGERS ), pxrn links to twt, tit sucking, missionary, cowgirl + reverse, backshots lol, humping, thigh fucking is so hot, fingering, fem rec oral, mentions of taking nudes, spankings, all visuals show lighter skinned people but i would never try to exclude anyone

TITS 2 3 — the ultimate life source, he lives off of the existence of yours. there's not a day that will go by where you won't catch him staring. he loves how soft they feel in his hands and how you let him squeeze them. it gets him so hard when you walk around braless or wear a tight or low cut shirt. truthfully, anything you wear is enough to get his cock stirring in his pants. he loves to worship them and dedicates time to showing you how much he loves them. sucking and slurping on your nipples is how he wants to spend his days. he fucks you extra hard to see them bounce when you're on your back. he holds you close to his chest and fucks up into you just to get his lips around your tit. pics of you in his shirt that's been pulled all the way up are his favorites. his collection of your tit pics range from selfies you sent and the dirtiest ones of you covered his cum.

satoru gojo, kento nanami, toge inumaki

kaedehara kazuha, xiao, diluc ragnivdr, thoma, venti, albedo, kamisato ayato, neuvillete

akaza, muzan, obanai iguro

yoichi isagi, rin itoshi, meguru bachira

takemichi hanagaki, seishu inui, takashi mitsuya, shinichiro sano, hajime kokonoi

ASS 2 3 — tight jeans and short skirts are his favorite, really anything that let him admire the curve of your ass. actually even baggier clothing made him feel proud of being the only one who knows what's underneath. he palms your ass every second of the day no matter where or who was around. he would hold it and playfully slap it whenever you were in arms reach. he would grip onto it like he would lose you and slam it against his pelvis desperately. he just needed to have his hands on your body in some way. when you were on top, he liked having your back to him so he could watch the ripples in your gorgeous ass. he would get so needy when it came to bending you over. especially when he had such quick access with you only in a shirt and panties. he'd have your back arched and all clothing pulled out of his way immediately.

toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna, yuuji itadori, aoi todo, naoya zennin

scaramouche, kaeya, arataki itto, tartaglia, wriothesley, gorou

sanemi shinazugawa, tengen uzui

reo mikage, sae itoshi, shoei barou, ryusei shido, micheal kaiser

ken ryuguji, nahoya kawata, taiju shiba, kazutora hanemiya, shuji hanma

THIGHS 2 3 — he's so proud to admit his love for thighs. he thinks they're the most versatile. he can use them for whatever he needs. he takes naps on them, he lays on them to talk to you, he can fuck them super easily. they also look the cutest in little skirts that he buys you just to see them. then he pairs them with socks that squeeze in a way that gets his mouth watering. he gets to dress you up and take pictures of your pretty skin before his cum spills all over it. as much as he loves filling you up, he would never complain about finishing over your thighs. he'd even go as far as to clean it up then spend the rest of the night with his tongue between your folds. he'd drink ever drop you had to offer while your hands tangled in his hair. if his fingers weren't spreading you open then he'd push your thighs around his head.

choso kamo, megumi fushiguro, yuta okkotsu, hiromi higuruma

zhongli, cyno, kaveh, tighnari

giyuu tomioka, kyojuro rengoku, sabito, douma

hyoma chigiri, seoshiro nagi, rensuke kunigami

manjiro sano, chifuyu matsuno, hakkai shiba, souya kawata

[astralnymphh]

CALLING ALL FANFICTION AUTHORS!

please reblog this. i've talked about this twice before, but obviously not everyone has seen it. i am calling for anyone who writes fanfiction or posts about a certain game/show/universe in any connective manner to please, please- PLEASE, copy this memo below comprising links to supporting palestine, education on the situation in gaza, and a must-need for those who engage in TLOU tumblr; links regarding the creators (neil druckmann) zionism, and how the plot of tlou2 is based on the israeli occupation of palestine. i don't care if what you write seems "insignificant" or "small" in the grouping of larger fics. no. everything that is not related to palestine in any form NEEDS these links. because, when we stray away from reblogging, or writing up our own posts in support of palestine/sharing journalists stories/etc. even for a SINGLE piece of writing, we could be missing people who are unaware (which, shouldn't be the case atp, but..) and fucking especially because in these fandoms, fics are the most popular thing. not reblogs about palestine, unfortunately; there are so many fanfiction accounts who very clearly don't give a fuck about the whole situation, seeping in silence, posting fics during strikes, not taking accountability for it now, so on and so forth. please, for the love of all that is good- CALL THEM OUT! people gaining hundreds of notes, tens of reblogs, supportive comments on a post that completely disregards what is happening SO BOLDLY right now, should irk you. i swear, if i see one more fuckass "i didn't know!" apology from an author who is CONSTANTLY on tumblr, REGULARLY posting fanfiction, i'm going to fucking lose it. if you are on tumblr to begin with, being this active- you have time to reblog. actually, educating yourself and reblogging is way quicker than writing up fanfiction of any length. are you fucking kidding me? you are laughable. comical, not real, and i have nay an ounce of respect for you. ever. but besdies that; the memo. i want everyone to copy this, or make something similar. put this above your summaries, authors note, whatever comes before the writing. every post you make should link back to supporting palestine, cause you never know how many eyes it will reach. it could change a lot of things. on pc, i believe copying it completely will preserve the links, but i'm not sure if mobile will. again. do whatever you can to add it. don't be lazy. put this in ur masterlists/navigation too.

for all fanfiction authors:

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

for tlou fanfiction authors:

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

you may add what is necessary, i wanted to keep it short for attention span sakes, and to avoid people skipping it entirely, and so on. i may edit these, fix up anything, but again, if you're using them you can edit them however. as long as you are linking anything in general, that is what matters. thank you, love from aestra. from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Harpercollins wants authors to sign away AI training rights

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/18/rights-without-power/#careful-what-you-wish-for

Rights don't give you power. People with power can claim rights. Giving a "right" to someone powerless just transfers it to someone more powerful than them. Nowhere is this more visible than in copyright fights, where creative workers are given new rights that are immediately hoovered up by their bosses.

It's not clear whether copyright gives anyone the right to control whether their work is used to train an AI model. It's very common for people (including high ranking officials in entertainment companies, and practicing lawyers who don't practice IP law) to overestimate their understanding of copyright in general, and their knowledge of fair use in particular.

Here's a hint: any time someone says "X can never be fair use," they are wrong and don't know what they're talking about (same goes for "X is always fair use"). Likewise, anyone who says, "Fair use is assessed solely by considering the 'four factors.'" That is your iron-clad sign that the speaker does not understand fair use:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/27/nuke-first/#ask-questions-never

But let's say for the sake of argument that training a model on someone's work is a copyright violation, and so training is a licensable activity, and AI companies must get permission from rightsholders before they use their copyrighted works to train a model.

Even if that's not how copyright works today, it's how things could work. No one came down off a mountain with two stone tablets bearing the text of 17 USC chiseled in very, very tiny writing. We totally overhauled copyright in 1976, and again in 1998. There've been several smaller alterations since.

We could easily write a new law that requires licensing for AI training, and it's not hard to imagine that happening, given the current confluence of interests among creative workers (who are worried about AI pitchmen's proclaimed intention to destroy their livelihoods) and entertainment companies (who are suing many AI companies).

Creative workers are an essential element of that coalition. Without those workers as moral standard-bearers, it's hard to imagine the cause getting much traction. No one seriously believes that entertainment execs like Warner CEO David Zaslav actually cares about creative works – this is a guy who happily deletes every copy of an unreleased major film that had superb early notices because it would be worth infinitesimally more as a tax-break than as a work of art:

https://collider.com/coyote-vs-acme-david-zaslav-never-seen/

The activists in this coalition commonly call it "anti AI." But is it? Does David Zaslav – or any of the entertainment execs who are suing AI companies – want to prevent gen AI models from being used in the production of their products? No way – these guys love AI. Zaslav and his fellow movie execs held out against screenwriters demanding control over AI in the writers' room for 148 days, and locked out their actors for another 118 days over the use of AI to replace actors. Studio execs forfeited at least $5 billion in a bid to insist on their right to use AI against workers:

https://sites.lsa.umich.edu/mje/2023/12/06/a-deep-dive-into-the-economic-ripples-of-the-hollywood-strike/

Entertainment businesses love the idea of replacing their workers with AI. Now, that doesn't mean that AI can replace workers: just because your boss can be sold an AI to do your job, it doesn't mean that the AI he buys can actually do your job:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/25/accountability-sinks/#work-harder-not-smarter

So if we get the right to refuse to allow our work to be used to train a model, the "anti AI" coalition will fracture. Workers will (broadly) want to exercise that right to prevent AI models from being trained at all, while our bosses will want to exercise that right to be sure that they're paid for AI training, and that they can steer production of the resulting model to maximize the number of workers than can fire after it's done.

Hypothetically, creative workers could simply say to our bosses, "We will not sell you this right to authorize or refuse AI training that Congress just gave us." But our bosses will then say, "Fine, you're fired. We won't hire you for this movie, or record your album, or publish your book."

Given that there are only five major publishers, four major studios, three major labels, two ad-tech companies and one company that controls the whole ebook and audiobook market, a refusal to deal on the part of a small handful of firms effectively dooms you to obscurity.

As Rebecca Giblin and I write in our 2022 book Chokepoint Capitalism, giving more rights to a creative worker who has no bargaining power is like giving your bullied schoolkid more lunch money. No matter how much lunch money you give that kid, the bullies will take it and your kid will remain hungry. To get your kid lunch, you have to clear the bullies away from the gate. You need to make a structural change:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

Or, put another way: people with power can claim rights. But giving powerless people more rights doesn't make them powerful – it just transfers those rights to the people they bargain against.

Or, put a third way: "just because you're on their side, it doesn't follow that they're on your side" (h/t Teresa Nielsen Hayden):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/19/gander-sauce/#just-because-youre-on-their-side-it-doesnt-mean-theyre-on-your-side

Last month, Penguin Random House, the largest publisher in the history of human civilization, started including a copyright notice in its books advising all comers that they would not permit AI training with the material between the covers:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/19/gander-sauce/#just-because-youre-on-their-side-it-doesnt-mean-theyre-on-your-side

At the time, people who don't like AI were very excited about this, even though it was – at the utmost – a purely theatrical gesture. After all, if AI training isn't fair use, then you don't need a notice to turn it into a copyright infringement. If AI training is fair use, it remains fair use even if you add some text to the copyright notice.

But far more important was the fact that the less that Penguin Random House pays its authors, the more it can pay its shareholders and executives. PRH didn't say it wouldn't sell the right to train a model to an AI company – they only said that an AI company that wanted to train a model on its books would have to pay PRH first. In other words, just because you're on their side, it doesn't follow that they're on your side.

When I wrote about PRH and its AI warning, I mentioned that I had personally seen one of the big five publishers hold up a book because a creator demanded a clause in their contract saying their work wouldn't be used to train an AI.

There's a good reason you'd want this in your contract; the standard contracting language contains bizarrely overreaching language seeking "rights in all media now know and yet to be devised throughout the universe":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/19/reasonable-agreement/

But the publisher flat-out refused, and the creator fought and fought, and in the end, it became clear that this was a take-it-or-leave-it situation: the publisher would not include a "no AI training" clause in the contract.

One of the big five publishers is Rupert Murdoch's Harpercollins. Murdoch is famously of the opinion that any kind of indexing or archiving of the work he publishes must require a license. He even demanded to be paid to have his newspapers indexed by search engines:

https://www.inquisitr.com/46786/epic-win-news-corp-likely-to-remove-content-from-google

No surprise, then, that Murdoch sued an AI company over training on Newscorp content:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2024/oct/25/unjust-threat-murdoch-and-artists-align-in-fight-over-ai-content-scraping

But Rupert Murdoch doesn't oppose the material he publishes from being used in AI training, nor is he opposed to the creation and use of models. Murdoch's Harpercollins is now pressuring its authors to sign away their rights to have their works used to train an AI model:

https://bsky.app/profile/kibblesmith.com/post/3laz4ryav3k2w

The deal is not negotiable, and the email demanding that authors opt into it warns that AI might make writers obsolete (remember, even if AI can't do your job, an AI salesman can convince Rupert Murdoch – who is insatiably horny for not paying writers – that an AI is capable of doing your job):

https://www.avclub.com/harpercollins-selling-books-to-ai-language-training

And it's not hard to see why an AI company might want this; after all, if they can lock in an exclusive deal to train a model on Harpercollins' back catalog, their products will exclusively enjoy whatever advantage is to be had in that corpus.

In just a month, we've gone from "publishers won't promise not to train a model on your work" to "publishers are letting an AI company train a model on your work, but will pay you a nonnegotiable pittance for your work." The next step is likely to be, "publishers require you to sign away the right to train a model on your work."

The right to decide who can train a model on your work does you no good unless it comes with the power to exercise that right.

Rather than campaigning for the right to decide who can train a model on our work, we should be campaigning for the power to decide what terms we contract under. The Writers Guild spent 148 days on the picket line, a remarkable show of solidarity.

But the Guild's real achievement was in securing the right to unionize at all – to create a sectoral bargaining unit that could represent all the writers, writing for all the studios. The achievements of our labor forebears, in the teeth of ruthless armed resistance, resulted in the legalization and formalization of unions. Never forget that the unions that exist today were criminal enterprises once upon a time, and the only reason they exist is because people risked prison, violence and murder to organize when doing so was a crime:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/11/rip-jane-mcalevey/#organize

The fights were worth fighting. The screenwriters comprehensively won the right to control AI in the writers' room, because they had power:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/01/how-the-writers-guild-sunk-ais-ship/

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

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

--

Eva Rinaldi (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Rupert_Murdoch_-_Flickr_-_Eva_Rinaldi_Celebrity_and_Live_Music_Photographer.jpg

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

[deadghosy]

I love your work so much imagine ben Drowned in hasbin hotel.

Them crawling out of the TV and alistor is like I don't like tv but can you mess with vox😭.

SURE!! LOL! 🦆💗If anyone wants to do a creepypasta! Reader, I will make it a fanon version cause that’s most easier since I’ve always seen the fanon side of creepypasta when I was into the fandom💗

HAZBIN HOTEL X BEN DROWNED! READER

prompt: after jumping into a tv to hide from being stabbed by Jeff…you accidentally went into a show called HAZBIN HOTEL……

Your dumbass didn’t even check what was on tv…it was just left on as you are now falling to a city in a shape of a…..pentagram?

Welll shit…you are in a hell cartoon…

Meanwhile with Jeff: “where the fuck is that short tacked bitch…” he said holding his knife tightly as his eyes glanced at the tv. “That bastard!”

MEANWHILE WITH YOU: You pointed to a service pole and started to surge through the electrical wire into some random old tv box. You pressed your hand through the tv screen and came out of it. As you came out of it a gasp was heard to see a bunch of characters…..oh boy…

After basically getting chased around the hotel and interrogated…they let you stay by Charlie’s words as she was excited to have another member to her crew at last. 

Few weeks later, they have gotten use to you. I mean Alastor still keeps an eye on you as you play games and go through electronics around the place.

Angel thinks it’s funny for you to hack Valentino’s page to make his bio say “I have a small dick.”

Vaggie makes you go out on errands until she can find you a decent duty at least. But she appreciates how you help around a lot.

Husk thinks your pretty annoying because of your gen z & gen alpha humor. I headcannon ben and you to basically be a media specialist to learn the lingo around and to understand the generation.

“Hey husk…” “hey kid…” “you’re so not alpha male…” “…the fuck?” “Sooo not slay.” “Get the fuck out my face.” *cue you doing a gremlin ass laugh*

I can see Velvette making fun of you for wearing the link fit😭 she would be confused as if you were a stinky cosplayer kid-

“GOOD HELL?! What are you wearing dear..” the female vee says as you look down to your link outfit. “What’s wrong with it? I think I look ✨f a b u l o u s✨” you said with sass

“You look horrendous. THAT’S what you look like.” Velvette says. You rolled your eyes as she snapped her fingers giving you black converses, tan brown pants, and a green hoodie. She had let you keep your link hat as you actually liked how you looked.

Maybe when you get back to slender’s mansion you can spend his card to buy an outfit like this.

I imagine Charlie or niffty trying to wipe off the blood tears of your eyes thinking you were crying as you stand there like “what is going on-🤨” most definitely the face look like this “:T”

Angel dust brought you a gaming set from a thrift shop as you smiled happily at this and started to play….only to find out it had knock off versions of the games in the human world….impta?! (GTA) PENTACRAFT?! (Minecraft) hellmon?? (Pokémon)

You immediately thrown the gaming set outside and decided to go hack Vox’s system for fun again.

I can imagine reader sending random “if you don’t like this, Lucifer is coming for you.” posts to random sinner to fuck with them.

I can DEFINITELY see Alastor asking you to go mess with Vox’s tech even if he doesn’t like those picture boxes. “Ben/Reader, my fine fellow..I got a favor to ask of you.” After he asked you to go mess with this dude named Vox. You smiled as you transported into your own tv and go to the vee tower.

You hacked into Vox’s system as he spit his coffee out to see “nya cat” on all his computers and devices as you snicker seeing Vox’s face trying to fix it. You laughed showing yourself as your bloody tears roll down your face because of laughing. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” Vox asked angrily

“IM YOU! BUT BETTER! GET HACKED LOSER!” You said before disappearing from his system as Vox claws his desk in anger.

Alastor had a good chuckle when you told him what you did. “I never liked this picture boxes…but you my friend, are true entertainment.” After this your relationship with Alastor grew as he would pay you handsomely with snacks as you go and piss Vox off on any other day.

Valentino and Vox hate your guys to the point they want to kill you while Velvette is just chill with you as she helps you with your outfits and aesthetics.

I imagine since Ben drowned also looks like link, you have long hair like link but sometimes cut it down to bit length to not trip on it.

You give off that “new worker at McDonald’s” vibes as you would just play around instead of helping the residents😭

“Can I have keycard?” “….how about no?”

I imagine you just tapping on and off a lamp post boredly as Valentino keeps going towards it and away from. “On….off…on…off…” you liked to mess with people

You had tapped on sir Pentious’s device once and it exploded…yeah you were pretty much banned from his room and lab. But it was worth it.

You definitely wrestle with husk as husk will just try to claw out your eyes only him to just get pepper sprayed by you.

“AGG MY FUCKIN' EYES!!” “I didn’t know this shit would work on demons..”

Lucifer was definitely intrigued with your appearance as you seemed like a human. But also had a demonic appearance. So he questioned you and you just kept saying “SWAG!” He got tired of it and demanded you as the ruler of hell.

It didn’t work as you just shrug with a “:D” face and transported into a wire. Lucifer was bamboozled as he just stood there like “what just happened”

You showed niffty how to beat any person during a game as you, yourself is a hacker and can beat any game personally.

You looked at the phone that you stole from that flat faced dude as you smirked having an idea as you transported into the phone to try and go find Jeff. And lucky you did as he was sitting on the couch watching wrestling.

“Heyyy buddy.” You said looking through the tv to see Jeff. He scoffed seeing that his favorite program was ruined by your face. Jeff turned off the tv. Your face was like a pikachu shocked face. “THAT BITC-”

[crushmeeren]

no bc thinking about akutagawa, the port mafia dog that everyone thinks is so scary (he is) but who is actually the biggest gentleman. who hates plants bc they’re such a hassle to take care of, but who buys you flowers and puts sugar in the water vase to keep them alive ! 🫧🫧

who also just loves biting you. who is the biggest dick in bed, choking you and watching you cum with slits for eyes. who’ll kiss your throat right after he bruises it.

i forget if this is canon or not, but i saw somewhere that he doesn’t know what the frilly thing around his neck is called 😭 (i think its a cravat?)

Oh my FUCK!! Just like that I’m being sucked in and writing about him… Also I think that’s correct, it’s a cravat. Levi from AOT wore one too.🤤

master list link

You’re right…. Ryuu is such a fucking guard dog — a Doberman, if you will. He’s tightlipped and terrifying when he tails you around town, or anywhere really.

You want a few inches of space while you’re in the bar? At the store? At a birthday party? Too fucking bad. He sneers at everyone who gets too close, challenging each person who dares chat you up in his presence without a single word. You smack him in the chest when he pushes the line, teasing him with a “down Ryuunosuke, be a good boy.” He huffs, unhappy, but backs off for the time being. Until something sets him off again.

Although you have to use an unfair amount of willpower not to show it, Ryuu’s aware, and smug, about the fact that his protective and obsessive behavior tugs on the part of your brain that tells you to shove him into the sheets when you get home.

This isn’t to go without saying that Ryuu’s such a sweetie when it comes to you. Like tooth rotting sort of sweet. It’s not so much displayed through words, but rather it’s spelled out in his actions. As stated above, the man does not have a green thumb. First off, plants require far too much attention. Attention that he’d rather spend on you. Second, even if he has tried to grow plants before, though he swears he hasn’t, they just seem to mock him. They die and if he’s honest, he can’t be bothered with whether they live or not.

But, for you, Ryuu did just enough research on how to keep flowers off of life support. When Ryuu brought you flowers for the first time and he noticed how your eyes brightened, how you buried your nose into soft petals and inhaled a lungful, only to hum in delight and aim the single most affectionate look he’s ever gotten at him, well, he needed the flowers to live for as long as you willed them to.

Ryuunosuke loves to suck bruises along your throat, your collarbone, any unmarked part of your body he can get his hands on. It absolutely ties into his possessiveness. You tell him he’s a “territorial ass,” but you moan his name and tilt your head to the side, spreading your thighs open as you insult him. You ask him for more kisses without really asking him.

He rolls his eyes but one side of his mouth twists into a smile, fitting himself snug between your legs. He always comes back with “Yeah? Well you’re a fucking brat,” pressing the harsh words into your collarbone. “You think I won’t mark what’s mine? That I’d let anyone not know who owns you?”

It’s got to be common knowledge that Ryuu is a jerk in bed. That he likes to tease, likes to edge you, even ruin your orgasm once in a while because his dick gets hard when you cry. A thrill races down his spine when you let him choke you, stomach drawing in tight. The pads of his fingers press deep into the sides of your throat, making your head throb and your cheeks flush hot to the touch when all your blood rushes to them. He almost bites the tip of his tongue off when your pussy squeezes the life out of his cock.

On the other side, something probably scratches the out of reach itch in Ryuunosuke’s brain when you take the reins from him. He’s always got too much on his plate, and being able to give up control satisfies his secret desire to be taken care of. His expression is never more open, never more loving, more tender than when you’re riding him. It’s slow and steady, you appreciate every inch of his cock as it slides in and out of your pussy.

You brace your hands on either side of his head and Ryuu stares up at you, his heavy lidded gaze mirroring yours as he pants, these small puffs of air that are just loud enough to make out. You repeat the smooth, steady rise and fall of your hips, lips parting and a breathy “Ryuunosuke,” drips off your tongue. You play it up a bit, knowing how worked up Ryuu gets when you moan his full name.

It works this time as it has all the others.

His breath stutters in his chest, nails digging in and pinching your ass. “Ryuunosuke, please baby, make me cum. Your cock is so good, help me.” Your pussy squeezes tight around him.

Ryuu’s eyes begin to roll, lids fluttering before he lets out a breathless laugh. “You’re playing with me, angel.” He’s too smart, he realized what you were doing from the get go. He secures his arms around your waist and rolls until your back hits the mattress. “Such a helpless little thing for me, aren’t you princess?” He pushes his hips forward and you swear the tip of his cock presses against your cervix.

Ryuunosuke trails his fingers up the underside of your forearms, tickling you, and laces your fingers together, pinning your hands by your head. He dips down to whisper in your ear.

“You don’t have to worry, my angel. I’ll ruin you. You’ll never think of another man or want someone else’s cock ever again.”

You belong to Ryuunosuke, but you knew that already, didn’t you?

[evergone]

Theodore Nott General + Dating HCs

Theodore Nott x reader

Warnings: Smoking, alcohol, nudity, swearing.

Description: General and dating headcanons.

Smokes mostly when he’s anxious or angry (or any other negative emotion) rather than as a recreational activity.

Has tried to quit, but never sticks with it.

A big fighter — hates it when people talk shit about you or his friends and is almost always the one to start fights.

So protective of you it’s not even funny, and Blaise and Draco are always there to back him up when he fights for your honour or whatever.

Physical touch and quality time are his two biggest love languages because he didn’t get much of that when he was growing up. After that its gift giving, acts of service, and words of affirmation (he’s not a big talker).

Always has to be touching you in someway, be that linked pinkies or you sitting on his lap.

If you’re a legimens he always wants you to be reading his mind so you can see how pretty you are.

Argues with Hermione Granger’s annotations in the library books and forces you to take his side even when you think he’s wrong because “you’re [his] girlfriend and therefore you have to be on [his] side.”

Doesn’t personally wear glasses but loves to try on yours if you wear them — especially if you’re really blind.

Loves it when you read to him (he just loves the sound of your voice).

Prefers essays and non-fiction to fiction.

Is surprisingly good with kids. If you have siblings then they’re probably obsessed with him.

Not a big pet name user because he likes the sound of your name but when he’s drunk or feeling particularly soppy he’ll call you ‘lovey’ and occasionally ‘baby’ or ‘babe.’

Doesn’t mind being called pet names, but also prefers his name. He just adores being called ‘Teddy.’

He swears he doesn’t have a best friend, but everyone likes to assume they’re his best friend which can be a bit difficult when someone mentions this (“I’m literally his best friend, Blaise, what the fuck?” “He barely even likes you, Pansy!” “He doesn’t like either of you, I’m his best friend.” “Shut up, Draco, I’m his girlfriend and therefore his best friend.”)

In actuality, his best friend is probably Madam Pince.

So smart its not even funny. He’s coming in the top three ranks for every class he takes.

Also has no time for stupid people. If someone can’t keep up with his brain than he just won’t talk to them ever again.

Never wants to be a Death Eater and when Draco told him that he was, Theo didn’t talk to him for a week.

Has read almost every book in the library.

Sometimes reads muggle books as a sly form of rebellion against his father.

His favourite book is one you bought him for his birthday.

Doesn’t really like animals all that much but if you have one he’ll tolerate it (the kind of guy to say ‘no’ to getting a puppy and then gets it for you but ends up as the puppy’s biggest fan, like, buying a million different dog beds and including it in family photos).

Loves to take baths with you, especially if you let him wash you or you wash him.

You’d think his favourite place at school would be the library, but its actually his dorm. He loves it when you stay with him for the night — mostly because he likes to hold you, but partly because he likes when everyone gets to see you walking out of there in the morning.

Has a million photos of you up on the walls of his dorm and his bedroom at home.

His favourite pastime is taking you shopping.

Prefers to hang out at the shops with you, Pansy, Daphne and Millicent (and sometimes Astoria) than staying behind with the boys because he gets to pay for all your stuff.

Dresses better than anyone in the school and expects you to dress just as well.

Takes you to every event he’s invited to because he’s a little more popular than you.

Definitely doesn’t think or know he’s popular though. He thinks he’s such a little recluse that nobody really knows who he is, but everyone knows him and so many people think he’s incredibly cool. Draco and Blaise make a point not to let him know this so he doesn’t get a big head.

Doesn’t know how to cook so you try your best to teach him.

Loves everything you make for him.

His favourite type of music is vocal jazz.

The two of you didn’t have a secret relationship per se, but neither of you told anyone when you started going out and just let everyone figure it out using context clues (Daphne and Pansy were so offended that you didn’t tell them and will never forgive you for this).

If you weren’t already a part of his friend group, he wouldn’t put in any effort to introduce you to them because he’s not a sociable person himself, but Draco, Pansy, Blaise and Daphne would have all included you so quickly.

Hates taking you home with him because his father is such an arse, much prefers your home (especially if your half-blood or muggle born).

Is so intrigued by muggle things, would have loved muggle studies if his father let him take it as a class.

If your family are very aligned with your cultural heritage he does everything in his power to learn about it. He loves dressing in your traditional dress.

[loki-cees-all]

Hello and hi, my lovely!

I have this scenario for you that I sometimes think about.

How would Loki react if you (the mortal he might have feelings for but he’s not quite certain yet) were the only one to acknowledge his birthday? Maybe you put up a few balloons and even buy him a little cupcake with a candle on it? How would he react?

Happiest of birthdays to you! You’re a joy to know!! I love you!! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Cupcake For a God {Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader

Summary : Loki’s birthday is approaching, and it forces himself to reconcile who he wants to be versus who he actually is, and to reflect on his almost certainly unrequited feelings for you.

But what if the feelings weren’t unrequited?

W/c : 1.9k words

Content/Warnings : Angst, a bit of fluff

Author's Note : I swear I tried so hard to make this not so angsty! Please forgive me, Saz! 😭😭😭

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ──  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

There were a lot of things for Loki to dislike about living on Midgard. 

For starters, he was being forced to live there, inside Stark Tower with the other Avengers as penance for his crimes. It was only fitting, they’d told him, that he should assist in their efforts to keep the mortals safe because he was the reason they needed protecting in the first place.

Loki didn’t bother telling them what Thanos had done to him after he fell from the Bifrost; truthfully, he still didn’t quite understand it himself. That entire year was a blur to him - a painful concoction of lies and manipulations and tears and blood that left him unable to tell the difference between fact and fiction, even almost two years after the torture had began. 

He didn’t want anyone to know how weak he was, about how much he’d lost himself. If they knew how vulnerable he was, they might decide he wasn’t worth the trouble and send him to the dungeons of Asgard instead. 

Another thing he disliked was the forced pleasantries and unnecessary rituals humans had developed with each other, and by extension, him. The humans would smile as they past him by on the street, but it was a falsity every time; the sentiment never reached their eyes, and Loki could smell their fear from several blocks away. 

Loki knew they didn’t actually care how his day was going, that their concern only went as far as making sure he wasn’t on the verge of invading with another alien force under his command. He wasn’t, but honestly, if it meant everyone kept their distance, then he wasn’t going to argue with it. 

It wasn’t fair to say that Loki preferred being alone, but he was certainly used to it, and that was in direct contradiction of the forced socialization he had to endure on Midgard - press conferences, team building exercises (which Loki believed was just an excuse to consume copious amounts of food and drink), training sessions, something called “movie nights”, and missions across the world to dismantle S.H.I.E.L.D.’s various bunkers and bases. 

It was so much talking, and even more listening. So much lying and pretending that everything was fine, that Loki didn’t feel like a caged monster, and that everyone else wasn’t waiting for the littlest thing to completely set him off. 

But Loki was trying as hard as he could to ignore the dull ache that haunted his dreams and every waking moment. He knew he had hurt people, he knew he needed to make up for his grievous transgressions, but he didn’t know how else to make up for it all. So he pressed on, through the discomfort and awkwardness, in the hope that one day everything might become a little easier.

The one bright side to all of this, the one shimmering ray of light amidst the sea of gray, was you. Loki didn’t quite know what to make of his attraction to you - was it real, or was it just your absence of fear in his presence? Had it just been too long since he’d felt the touch of another, or were you actually everything he’d ever wanted?

Loki almost didn’t want to find out, in case it wasn’t real. Because your smile reached your eyes every time you looked at him, and your laughter was like sparks blowing across the embers of a dying fire…but he couldn’t shake the fear that it could just be another trick. 

Perhaps his mind still hadn’t fully recovered from Thanos’ torture. Maybe Thor had put you up to this, as a way of making assimilation easier for him. 

Because why else would you look at him like that? Why would you go out of your way to sit next to him during the team’s movie nights? Why else would you lean towards him on the couch and fall asleep against the shoulder of a villain, of a monster, of a fool? 

It was stupid, and pointless, and illogical, and just like him to irrationally want something he couldn’t ever have. He was a God, and you were a mortal, and it would ultimately end in heartache either way. So while he had the chance, Loki forced himself to remain content and to just linger in the question of what if you could want him too. 

The final thing about Midgard, and the one he despised the most, was the mortal obsession with birthdays. Loki was grateful the Asgardians never paid any attention to such silly and exhausting traditions - which was surprising, considering how much Asgardians loved frivolity. 

So he really shouldn’t have been shocked when Thor discovered, and subsequently fell in love with, the concept of birthdays. His brother immediately requested his mortal companion Jane to perform the necessary calculations to determine the Midgardian equivalent of Thor’s birthdate - and Loki’s as well, which his brother gleefully announced to the entire team and embarrassed him to the deepest pits of his soul. 

A massive celebration was planned for Thor, with enough food and drink to sustain a small country, and on the special night, flashing lights and loud music bathed the massive common room of Stark Tower in merriment and laughter. Everyone was invited, and it would have been rude for Loki to not make an appearance - but it wasn’t because he wanted to admire you in your party dress, although that was a very lovely bonus. 

But as gorgeous as you looked - the longer the party went on, the sadder Loki became. Everyone was talking, smiling, and dancing, congratulating Thor on his many accomplishments and swapping happy stories of all the good times they’d had together. It was painful to witness, to know for a fact that no such party would be happening for himself when his birthday rolled around. 

Loki tried telling himself that he didn’t want it, and that he’d be miserable during it. He tried convincing himself that it would be too loud, and too bawdy, and vain, and that he didn’t need other people’s reassurances that they were happy he was there with them. He told himself he didn’t need it at all, that he was completely fine without it. But it was a lie, so of course it didn’t work. 

As the days approached to Loki’s birthday, he became even more withdrawn than usual. With the exceptions of necessary missions or training, he stopped leaving his room. He was silent during travel on the Quinjet, and refused your invitations to further movie nights, even though the disappointment on your face ripped him apart in ways he’d never experienced before. 

He felt like he deserved to suffer, to collapse in on himself like a dying star because he knew he’d never be worthy of the love and attention his older brother seemed to collect so effortlessly. It wasn’t Thor’s fault; it was just Loki’s lot in life. And the further he receded, the more likely his heartache would be justified, and he couldn’t be surprised if he was already disappointed.

The evening of his birthday was the worst night he’d experienced in a long time, not since the day he let go of the Bifrost. Loki didn’t even come out of his room for dinner that night, choosing instead to feast on pain, and anguish, and regret, and all the feelings he hadn’t ever had the time to process over his thousand years of existence. 

Thor tried several times to lure him out of his room, to no avail. Loki wouldn’t leave - no, he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t bring himself to witness the fact that they’d done nothing special for him, even though he’d be furiously uncomfortable if they did. 

As the hours passed, he tried to distract himself with sleep, and then reading, but neither did the trick. Eventually, he curled up on the window seat of his private quarters, wrapped himself in furs and pressed his forehead against the glass, watching the tiny little mortals going about their nights in blissful ignorance of the god suffering fifty floors above them. 

And Loki was so lost that he could barely respond to the cautious knock on his door, the one that threatened to pull him away from his misery. But his heart leapt in his throat when he heard your voice calling his name, and he wanted so much to let you in, to feel you next to him. 

But the urge to say something cruel, to push you away and continue on alone, was just as strong. Loki didn’t know which to concede to, even as his feet slowly carried him to the door. He didn’t know what he was going to say, even while his fingers raked through his messy curls and rubbed the pain from his eyes. 

He felt ridiculous as he hesitated to open the door; he was a God, and once the most fearsome villain this entire planet had ever seen - but here he was, nervous and split open and too raw to simply open a door and look upon a beautiful woman while he was hiding away from his birthday. 

There was a soft rustling sound on the other side of the door, and Loki’s forehead rested against the wood as he heard your footsteps quietly retreating down the hallway. He’d waited too long, paralyzed by his self-indulgent indecision, and it had pushed you away. 

He thought about yanking the door open and calling after you. He considered begging for you to come back. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around you and to pull you closer, but all he could manage was to gently pull the door open after he was sure you were gone. 

On the floor of the hallway, waiting patiently and comfortably for him, was a beautifully-decorated cupcake and a note resting on a small paper plate. A single candle rose out of the emerald and sapphire swirls of frosting, and the pink paper was folded in half, with his name written in the loveliest cursive on the outside. 

Loki fought back tears as he retrieved the gift from the floor, and he cautiously balanced the plate in one hand while holding the note in the other. 

Hey Loki,

I know birthdays are hard; they’re hard for me too. But hopefully this treat makes you smile, even just for a second. 

I’ll be awake for a little while longer - stop by my room if you need to talk. I promise I won’t find it weird :) 

XOXO

P.S. I’m really glad you’re here, even if you’re not ready to accept that yet. 

He swallowed hard as he stared at the most generous gift he’d ever received. He didn’t know if you even fully understood what you’d just done for him. He fervently wanted to go after you, and he desperately wanted to continue hiding. 

But you’d extended an invitation, one he could feasibly take you up on. No one would argue it wasn’t in his right to do so. And Gods above, he wanted to, more than anything else he’d ever wanted. But would it be worth it, or would it just make everything worse? 

Loki tore his damp and heavy eyes away from the note and glanced up and down the hallway. He shut his door, just as quietly as he’d opened it, wondering if it would be a mistake to allow his heart guide him to where he’d rather be. 

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ──  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Click here to be added to my Loki fic tag list! 💚

[notjustjavierpena]

you mentioned wife being the first person javi opened up to about his mother.

imagine him walking with her around his fathers ranch and just showing her all the places from his childhood, his favourite hiding spots etc and causally just mentioning his mum here and there. reader is clinging to his arm and just basking in the day.

at night they’re staying in his childhood bedroom since it got late and they had quite a few beers with Chucho and eventually javi is holding wife/then girlfriend close and just says “i’ve never told anyone about my mother before like this” or something like that ahhh

Open

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is extremely personal for me to write about as a person who knows what it is like to lose a parent when you are young. I have written this with utmost gratitude to Hubby Javi because I can process some feelings through him. I hope you enjoy this harsh thing. I hope you know that this heals me and I hope it heals other people too. It might not be completely how you wanted it but I hope you like it better.

Summary: Javier opens up about the loss of his mother inside his childhood bedroom.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, angst, talk about abusive parenting, talk about grief, descriptions of a child experiencing grief and the loss of a parent, descriptions of cancer and its effects physically and emotionally, talk about death obviously, hurt/comfort, love confessions, openness is beautiful!!! kisses, clit stim, sex to deal with emotions

Word count: 4.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56911576

Open

About two months ago, you promised Chucho Peña that you would help him with the annual apple harvest and suddenly, the leaves are turning brown, and September begins with magazines filling up with apple pie recipes. 

Today, you have dressed the part for a weekend on your father-in-law’s ranch with your boyfriend. Dressing the part means that you have gone out to buy yourself a pair of denim overalls that make you look mostly like a caricature of a farm girl. Javier promises that he finds it sort of endearing, reassuring you every time you bring it up with embarrassment on your face. 

“Stop worrying,” he says as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, standing on a ladder that you are holding whilst he plucks apples off what seems like the millionth tree in the orchard, “He likes you, baby.”

“I should have just gone with my usual clothes,” you argue with a little sigh. Javier doesn’t know how much it means to you that you aren’t seen as foolish, how much it would hurt to find out that you are seen as the butt of a joke behind closed doors. He doesn’t know how much you need this approval because Chucho Peña is the kindest and most gentle and attentive older man you have ever met, treating you like his own child with a soft mija (my girl/daughter) that had been enough for you to excuse yourself for a moment the first time you had heard it. He is not at all like your own father. 

“You’re making an effort that doesn’t go unnoticed,” Javier offers as a consolation after you have stayed silent for a little too long, stepping down the ladder and taking off his work gloves. He stuffs them into his belt and kisses you with another reassuring smile, “He likes you.”

“I guess I'll just have to trust you,” you sigh dramatically and Javier pulls you into an embrace, the chuckle he lets out vibrating against your chest. You feel his lips pull into a smile as he rests his mouth against your cheek.

“You are kind and honest,” he compliments and sways you from side to side as he holds you close. You wrap yourself around him too, listening to his sweet words and breathing in his scent, “And he thinks the world of you. I might actually start to feel a little jealous.”

A little smile forms on your face as he squeezes you tighter and when he pulls back just a bit to kiss you, you nod at him, trying to play it cool despite thoughts of self-doubt nagging at you, “I did warn you about how I get around parents..” 

“I know, mi amor (my love), I know,” he acknowledges and holds you close again, “But you did enough to charm him the first time to be invited back. And the overalls really do sell it.”

“Shut up,” you groan as he snickers in your ear. He always manages to make your heart flutter in your chest, teasing you relentlessly but grounding you as he does it. None of your baggage is too big for him, even as you present it with trembling hands from how heavy it feels to you.

“Just a few more minutes here and we can have a well-earned fucking break. I love you but not enough to skive off in my Dad’s garden,” he tells you and starts to loosen you from his embrace, “That okay?”

You nod and then you finally break apart. Javier gets back onto the ladder to pick the remaining apples off the tree in front of you. He starts the repetitive task once again, handing each one to you so you can carefully put them in the basket on the ground so they don’t bruise. While you do it, you find your mind drifting to the day you met Chucho. 

You remember the drive to the ranch, your heart pounding in your chest at a million miles per hour, and the fake smile you had given Javier each time he had asked if you were okay. During your stay for dinner and drinks, and as you smiled and charmed, you hid the anxiety until you were all the way back at Javier’s apartment once more, only then letting your facade crumble and telling him that the dizzying nervousness he had seen on the drive back had nothing to do with his father and everything to do with your own. 

Javier had asked you if your parents had ever hurt you and with a shaky voice, you’d had to explain that while the answer was no, what you received instead of deliberate cruelty was cruel indifference. 

“I don’t know what’s worse,” you had said with stinging tears in your eyes, “Being hurt or being invisible.”

“You’re not invisible to me,” Javier had whispered into your hair. He had held you tightly that evening, right in his hallway, feet planted on the floorboards that have become yours too, his arms a harbor of reassurance that things will never be like that again, “I will never allow anyone to treat you like that again.”

Now, as you place another apple gently in the basket, you think about how different Chucho Peña is from your father. Chucho’s attention is genuine and warm, listening to you with the same interest as Javier shows too, letting you know where some of your boyfriend’s mannerisms come from, whereas your parents’ show of care was always fleeting and conditional to the point where you wondered why they even decided to have you. 

“Hey,” Javier’s voice breaks through your thoughts. He’s looking down at you from the ladder, concern on his face and gloves already off again, “��Estás bien? (You okay?)”

“Yeah, sorry,” you feel embarrassed that it’s so evident on your face that you aren’t at ease but decide to be honest, “Just thinking about parents and overalls.”

Javier steps down onto the gravel again, laying the gloves on the top step of the ladder. He tuts, face serious for a moment. 

“C’mon, you’ve been standing in the sun too long. Let’s take a break now and go for a walk in the garden. Still got a lot to show you,” he says with his hand reaching out for you. You take it with an unsure smile, but as you are interlocking your fingers and gently swaying your arms between your bodies as you start walking, you find that it feels more than alright to let yourself be comforted by him. 

Javier leads you through the apple trees until you are out of the orchard completely. He talks quietly about the ranch but there’s a slight hesitation to dig deeper than the materials and the construction of his childhood home. You decide not to push it, knowing that it was not easy to reveal your secrets, and instead admire the many flowers that will bloom in next year’s Spring. 

Javier seems to notice you taking in all the different bushes and flowers and you’ll never admit to seeing his shoulders slump slightly just before he starts talking again, “Mom loved this garden, you know. She spent hours here, tending to every single plant until her fingertips were green and dirt-smudged. I used to follow her around, pretending to help but mostly just getting in the way.”

“Didn’t get into trouble, did you?” You tease and lean into him as you walk. 

“Loads and I would hide up there when she got angry with me,” he points to an old and slightly weathered oak tree, a rope ladder in even worse condition hanging down the trunk, “But she’d always soften if I apologized. Once she said she liked her hyacinths without their heads to make me feel better.”

“I’d swap parents in a heartbeat,” you sigh with your head on his shoulders and he moves to let you hold onto his arm instead. He goes a little quieter and you allow him to hold onto her memory by himself for a moment, looking up to see a slight crinkle on his forehead. 

“Even when you’d only have one?” He eventually murmurs into your hair and from the way he exhales, you know that he regrets saying it, “I mean… I know you would.”

“You have beautiful memories of her, I can tell,” you say as gently as possible, “If you ever want to tell me more about her, I’m here to listen, you know.”

Javier clears his throat, “Thank you.”

A moment passes but nothing more happens. This would be the perfect opportunity but the silence stretches out until you walk beside him again, holding his hand instead of basking in his half-embrace. You want to say something but you are at a loss, searching for the right words to comfort him but failing just long enough for him to change the subject. 

“We should go see how far Pop has gotten,” he suggests lightheartedly and steers you back where you came from, out of what used to be his sanctuary with his mother. 

“Yeah, sure, baby,” you reply. 

Another time then.

—

When the sun has gone down behind the horizon and the cicadas have come out from their hiding places, singing their hearts out, Javier takes you to his old room upstairs. The both of you have had alcohol with dinner and while Javier had offered to take a cab, his father had scolded him for even thinking about such nonsense, telling him that it was a joy to have him home so wholeheartedly. Your father-in-law had looked at you with a warm smile as he had said it. 

Now, you lie in Javier’s old bed - just a little bit too small for the both of you - with the quilted bedspread lying neatly folded in the end. It somehow feels more intimate to be in his childhood bedroom than it would be to go through his underwear drawer. 

Right above you, several posters are pinned to the ceiling and overlapping each other. The corners of the posters curl slightly and their colors have dulled since the 70s but they display the men of rock bands like Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd. Some display the band logos too, they exist on the CDs that you have found in Javier’s glove compartment but he never listens to them when he drives you around. You make a mental note to casually put one of them on during your drive home tomorrow. 

Seeing those iconic faces from the 70s stare down at you, you can’t help but glance fondly at Javier when he isn’t looking but instead standing by the open window on the opposite wall, smoking a cigarette. Suddenly, his wardrobe consisting of denim jeans, colorful shirts, and leather jackets makes sense. 

You try to imagine Don Chucho coming in here with the determination to put out the cigarette in his son’s hand, holding in a lecture that would only have made the teenager roll his eyes. Then the snark that would have come out of Javier’s mouth, his face mustache-free and full of spots, and you smile so much that you turn around onto your stomach to hide your expression in his pillow. 

It smells faintly of sweat and the cheap cologne only a teenager would have bought, so you turn to peek at your boyfriend again. He taps his fingers on the window sill, overlooking the garden that you have come to learn so much about earlier. 

You spot small pieces of who he is everywhere; a stack of sociology books, paperback horror books with titles in both English and Spanish. The most worn down and loved one is El Resplandor which you guess to be The Shining. There’s also a corkboard on the wall with ticket stubs and polaroids, a framed photograph on the desk that you haven’t had the courage or chance to look at yet, beside it a figurine of La Virgen de Guadalupe that’s been tipped over in what seems to be frustration. Your smile drops a little as you feel the weight of the unfairness he must have felt. 

From the window, Javier exhales a puff of smoke and reaches up to rub his eye with his free hand. You glance again at the photograph on the desk, curiosity getting the better of you as you rise from the bed and walk over to it. 

As expected, the picture is of Javier's mother. What you didn’t expect is seeing your boyfriend at the age of what you calculate to be younger than ten. The resemblance is striking; her features are mirrored in his even with how much he still looks like his father. 

You chew on the inside of your cheek as you pick up the religious figurine next to the picture, placing her upright once more so her head is tipped toward Javier and his mother. There’s a surge of emotion in your stomach that you try to suppress, a sense of urgency to reach through the photograph and comfort the little boy who has lost half of himself. 

You hear him stub out his cigarette on the wood paneling outside, followed by the dry sound of him trying to brush the ashes off the wood again with his calloused hands. In his late thirties and still acting as if he’ll get caught by his father. 

He turns back towards you and you act like nothing has happened, holding out your hand for him to take. He glances in the direction of his mother’s photo but decides not to say anything even as he notices the figurine standing upright once again. You flex your fingers to draw attention to your hovering hand, “Come to bed.” 

You’ve both already been in your underwear for a while since it’s late and you’re alone - the overalls hang on the back of his door, scowling at you - so he simply takes your hand and you walk backward until the edge hits the back of your legs. You let yourself fall down onto the bed and into the mattress, moving backward until there’s room for him too. 

Javier sighs the second he is lying down next to you, your shoulders touching from the missing width of the bed. He turns onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow and staring down at your face. 

“What?” You ask with a little smile.

There’s a flash of something in his eyes and the fact that he hasn’t said anything yet makes you want to squirm nervously. He reaches out with the arm he has been lying on, splaying his fingers against your cheek as his thumb rests underneath your chin, and then he crashes your mouths together in a kiss that you know is him resolving back to past methods of dealing with it all. 

However, you find yourself kissing him back at first, grabbing his wrist, and leaning into him to make out with him in a way that his younger self wouldn’t have believed was possible to experience. There’s a warm feeling in your stomach as you tangle your legs together, desire for him swirling below your belly button. 

You gasp against his lips when his free hand slips into your panties, your heart hammering in your chest as he smears some of your wetness over your clit. He rubs you off until you breathe heavily, fingertip dancing back and forth over the hard nub.

“You’re so wet,” he moans quietly and slowly increases the pressure of his fingers. He really wants you to come, it seems. You didn’t have getting laid in your boyfriend’s childhood bed down on this year’s bingo card but you can feel your orgasm approaching so damn quickly that it makes you not able to think straight. 

“Baby,” you babble, horny out of your mind from the intense emotions in the air, “I’m not gonna— in your dad’s house.”

“Yes, you fucking are,” he says in a low voice, kissing your open and panting mouth to shut you up. You might come but he won’t have you making noise loud enough to reveal what you are doing. He growls in the back of his throat, “You want my fingers? Don’t reply. Just nod or shake your head.”

You dig your nails into his wrist hard enough to create little crescent-shaped marks. You want to nod your head so badly but it feels wrong to be nothing but an outlet, a distraction from what you should be talking about. So instead, you shake your head with a moan, on the brink of bursting, “Stop, Javier. Stop.”

Javier raises his brow but immediately brings his hand to a halt, watching as you whimper from being edged. You clutch at your own chest, rolling away to not tempt him to fall back into his bad habit. 

“¿Qué pasa (What’s going on)?” He asks with a crease on his forehead. He tries to kiss you again but you put a hand on his chest to create some space between the two of you. He scowls, “What? You’re not having sex with me because we’re in my Pop’s house?” 

“That wasn’t sex,” you bite with frustration throughout your lower body, reaching down to fix the waistband of your underwear. The fabric sticks to you and your throbbing clit tells you to beg for forgiveness so it can have its release. You ignore it, “That was you avoiding the elephant in the room with intimacy and I don’t want to be a part of that.”

Javier lets himself fall onto his back, reaching up to push the heels of his hands into his eyes. He groans and lets his palms run down his face until his arms rest along his sides again. He heaves a big sigh, “Shit. Shit, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you promise because it is. You aren’t even mad despite how you probably should be, only feeling the way your heart aches for the boy who had to grow up too fast. Without a word, you reach down to entwine your fingers and give his hand a reassuring squeeze, “I promise. It’s okay.”

“We talk about her but we don’t talk about her,” he says to the ceiling. You go quiet and choose to simply listen instead of breaking the streak of him opening up about something so vulnerable. Instead of using your words, you rub his hand in soothing circles. 

“Pop likes to mention her occasionally but it’s with a little smile on his face and a funny story,” he continues quietly, “And that’s fine. Really, it is. I like remembering the good but he says all the right things without making it hurt. It feels as though he expects me to keep all the bad in check and believe me, there was a lot of awful shit. So much that sometimes it feels like I can’t move when I am reminded of it. Hospitals with never-ending halls, that poisonous shit they shot into her veins, her losing her hair, even her goddamn eyelashes, and suddenly not—“

He stops for a moment and swallows thickly. You turn onto your side and rest your forehead against his shoulder, still clutching his hand to let him know you are not letting go. He clears his throat to sound as if his voice isn’t wavering, “Suddenly not recognizing her anymore. This terrible sight of her turning yellow during her last few weeks. I was just a kid and it was horrible and unfair. I wish he’d acknowledge how horrible and unfair it was.” 

You kiss his bare shoulder a few times. There are so many things you want to say but mostly, it is that you are so sorry for what he went through. 

“I think I learned that nothing lasts forever,” he adds without looking at you, staring down at where his fingers are entwined with yours. He is quiet for a moment and you feel your heart pick up in rhythm as you try to find something to fill the silence with, something that debunks that belief. However, just as you are about to say something, he speaks again, “But I would like this to be. I would like us to be forever.”

“Javi,” you finally say softly. 

He lifts his gaze to lock it onto yours. He looks at his most vulnerable, eyes brown and big as he waits for you to continue. You take just a moment too long and he is off again, suddenly very chatty.

“I know I haven’t asked you to marry me,” he says, “But I promise it’s coming. I just need to get it right.”

“You don’t have to talk about that right now. You know I love you and I know you love me too; I know it’s coming,” you say to reassure, pushing the idea of only letting him speak away because this topic is too big to stay silent on, “I’m not lying here with you because I want a ring on my finger, and I’m certainly not treating it like a condition for you to open up to me. I want to know you, Javier.”

“Thank you,” Javier looks grateful to hear that, saying nothing for a moment before looking at the ceiling again. He laughs softly, “You fucking terrified me, you know, the first time we sat down together.”

“I terrified you?” You furrow your brows, huffing out a laugh of disbelief.

“I pull my grief up to every table I share with a person I would like to have in my life, mi amor (my love). I was terrified the first time we were on a date,” he admits, “I kept thinking when you were going to ask about family… If I was close to my mother. I hated to imagine the way your smile and curiosity would drop but I don’t want to just focus on the way I want to remember her. You were so kind and thoughtful and damn bright-eyed - that was before I knew about your dad - and I didn’t want to share how I actually remember her because you might have not wanted to see me like that.”

“Javi,” you let go of his hand to put your palm against his cheek, turning his head towards you. You weigh your words, “I want to know everything about you. I want to know everything about her too. Especially if you’re gonna marry me.” 

“She was incredible, loved music, always honest even if it meant war, and read so many books that Pop had to build her bookcase after bookcase,” he tells you with a tremble in his voice and a tear that threatens to spill down his cheek even as he smiles in remembrance of her, “But as warm and loving as she was hard. Believe it or not, Pop used to be the softie of those two.”

“I can imagine,” you say fondly. You let your hand fall down to rest on his chest, palm laying just where his heart is. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen a woman so defiant in her ways but she grew up with a lot of expectations of how she should live her life,” he continues, “I think that hardened her a lot. I think it brought a lot of trouble too. She was so fiercely independent. She was fiercely protective of me and Dad too but sometimes even more of herself. I guess I know what it’s like to defend oneself from all the bullshit people give you.”

“Fiercely protective?” You tease, “Sounds like someone I know.”

“Yeah, I guess. Maybe I got that from her,” he admits with both pride and sadness. He puts a hand on your wrist, rubbing it with his thumb as a way to fidget, “That’s why it got so hard when she got sick because that defiance just crumbled. I was just a kid but I was old enough to see through the facade she put up every day. I was happy to eat takeout all the time - I was barely ten, so who wouldn’t be? - but I knew it was because she was too exhausted to cook. The music was too loud, the TV muted so she could sleep on the couch all the time or maybe it had the sound turned up all the way because she was throwing up in the bathroom.”

It seems he cannot stop himself now, hand tightening around your wrist and tears falling from his eyes, “She would look at Pop with a scared expression because she knew she had to leave him all alone with me. I don’t think we ever talked about that fact. I think I just realized it for myself one day.”

Your chest constricts at seeing him cry for the first time in your presence. You’ve seen him in the aftermath of it on the nights when Colombia creeps into his head as he sleeps, where he excuses himself to the bathroom and comes out a few minutes later with puffy eyes and a reddened nose. Seeing him now, upset like this, hits you harder than you thought it would and your heart aches as you listen to him talk about the loss of his life. 

It is years of bottled-up cruel pain and sorrow flowing out of him, so you follow your instincts and throw your arms around him even if his arm is still trapped between you. You hold him tightly and feel his reluctance for a millisecond before he allows himself to tremble in your embrace. 

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” you say softly, “You were just a little boy, and you had to watch your mom suffer. No one should have to go through that.”

Grief is a funny thing because as you close your eyes, feeling his shuddering breaths against your chest in the midst of his emotional motion sickness, you swear that it is not an adult Javier that you are hugging but rather the version of him that had to let go of his mother. 

When your muscles start to ache from squeezing him so hard, you pull back a little to stare into his tearful face, watching his eyes glisten. You wipe a tear away but it is just replaced by another. 

“I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to mess this up,” he says and you’re not sure if it’s him or the little boy in him that speaks. 

“You won’t,” you reassure him, your voice steady like a lifeline that he can hold onto, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

Javier sniffles with a hesitant smile. Like the instincts of a mother, you lift the hem of your shirt to wipe a few tears from his face. You lean close to kiss him afterward and then move to lie face-to-face with him, so close that your noses almost touch. Your voice is sincere, “I know she meant a lot to you and your dad, so thank you for telling me. It sounds like she was an amazing woman. I wish I could have met her.”

“She would have loved you,” Javier replies, “She had this way of seeing right through people, knowing if they were genuine or not. And you, you’re the most genuine person I’ve ever met.”

Despite the warmth outside, you feel a different kind flow through you at those words. You brush your lips against his in a tender kiss, “I need to make sure that I tell you that I love you even more when you are so open and gentle with me.” 

He looks tired now but it’s the tiredness that fills the body after relief, “I love you too.”

“I think you should get some sleep,” you say softly. 

“I’ve never talked to anyone about my mother like this before,” he adds, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You never have to find out,” you tell him and reach to rub a thumb between his eyebrows, “Close your eyes, baby.  I’ll stay awake until you’re asleep.”

He does as he is told and smiles until sleep takes over, his face relaxing, his mouth going slack, and his breaths slowing down. He is so beautiful like this, looking peaceful, looking like home.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[dailypokemoncrochet]

I feel like I'm in a different world from other artists and can't connect because so much of what I see is professional artists in the sense that it is their Job and there's their portfolio and shop link and commission prices and patreon and buy their art so they can pay rent and eat this month and on here if you don't reblog then you're killing them and if you only like the post you might as well just give them a big middle finger and on other places it's retweet repost for visibility or else you're condemning them to death (no engagement) and there's so much trend chasing and algorithm posting and here's their name (real) and face (conventionally attractive) alongside their art (product) and here are dozens of carefully edited videos of their process and behind the scenes and a link to their paypal (legal name) (business name) and reassuring posts about Make the art you want and be proud and don't let anyone tell you you can't do x technique (which actually seems quite antithetical to the rest of the stuff they do) and idk??

I'm so very far removed from all of that. And as someone who mainly lurks online but has a very extensive art project and yeah is an artist because of that, it's weirdly alienating that most of what I see labeled as being an artist is tailored to a highly commercialized and specific kind of personality and lifestyle. Doesn't usually bother me, but sometimes it kinda sucks when all of those super relatable artist posts and memes go around and I just absolutely do not relate at all.

[wayfayrr]

Self-conscious captain

the next self aware link and this time it's the captain my favourite boy, warriors!

[masterlist]

“Hey [Name], I’ve been going through some of my old games to clear things out. I found my copy of Hyrule Warriors and wanted to know if you’d like it?”

“I thought that was one of your favourites though, what’s come into you to give it away like this? Do you want anything for it, I’d feel bad simply taking from you.”

“Nah I got it as a gift anyway, I beat the game and did everything there is to do. Plus I know you’ve been wanting to play it anyway, so please have it.”

There’s something off about this, between how skitterish they’re acting and the fact they’re so willing - that they’re so desperate for me to take their favourite game from them? I’ve got nothing else to go off of though, and they are right I have been planning to buy it. They wouldn’t be offering if they didn’t want me to have it so what is there to lose?

“If you’re sure then. I can’t wait to play through it myself rather than watching you.”

Is there such a thing as too much relief? Because if there is then that was definitely it, with how their shoulders relaxed; all the tension left their body as they handed me the game. Why does this feel like the start of a creepypasta, am I simply gonna go home then suddenly there’s some new version of Ben drowned for me to deal with? I won’t know until I play I guess, but it might be fun. 

There’s no better time than now to learn though, I’ve got the whole afternoon to myself anyway so why not? Putting the game into my switch; booting it all up it seems fine, so there’s nothing there that should have messed with them. It’s up until the first cutscene for anything to even show up that could be wrong. Link’s eyes seem to be focusing on me far more than they should during it, more than what should be possible, with more of a smile than he usually does during this too. Then I finally get to the level.

I can’t control Link, the game seems to be frozen, not a single bokoblin moving, Link is still moving, the camera isn’t even focused on him now and he’s moving closer to the screen. 

“Honeybee? You’re here! I knew your friend would cave pretty face when I pressed them. It’s so nice to have you here alone with me!”

“...What.”

“Oh it’s all alright dear, I did think you’d be a little shocked at first because, well I mean I know this isn’t something that happens very often. Would you be against getting to know me better though?”

What. The. Hell. No wonder they were so eager to pawn the game off to me, a living character that seems to be obsessed with me? If the roles were switched then I’d be throwing it at them as quickly as I could, I’m amazed they could even keep calm for long enough to hand it to me without seeming any more suspicious than they did, he threatened them he’s already admitted that stop lying to yourself [name]. Why does he even want me over the person who actually played as him? None of this makes any sense. 

“I - No I wouldn’t, actually could I ask you some questions too? Just y’know, try to get my head around all of this.”

“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t ask me any, I mean right now? You’re treating me more like an actual person than anyone else ever has.” 

“...”

“Where would you like to start then honeybee? We can take this at your pace, you’re in full control here.”

Where should I start? There are so many different things I want answers to, I could stay here for hours just talking to him to find out everything; now that I think on that, it’s not like I have anything else planned today. I could simply just stay here for a bit and talk, it’s probably the safer option too. If I don’t, do I really want to test the sanity of a sentient game character, no. 

“Um, if it’s all up to me then. Can I ask when you first became aware? Of the fact that you’re you know, a character in a game.”

“Oh, that? Well, it was about three months ago now, two or so weeks before you played with them. They really just saw me as a toy, not caring if I got hurt or anything, which is fair they never knew I was anything more than that; but you didn’t know either and you treated me like a person. You always apologised whenever I took any damage, never tried to get me hurt for your own pleasure or replace me as soon as you could. It was only a matter of time until I started to want you, then it was fairly easy to get eyes in your phone.”

“You've got ‘eyes in my phone?’ what do you mean by that.”

He looks so pleased right now like he wanted me to ask that exact question, it’s such a smug look on his face too. There’s something else to it as well, I can’t pinpoint what but there is certainly another look on his face. With how emotive he is it really doesn’t feel like this is some kind of sick joke, he’s too alive.

“That’s one of the things I’m most proud of!! It was pretty easy when you linked your phone to their switch to download a photo, I just made part of that connection a bit more personal and permanent. I promise I didn’t listen in on anything too private, I swear on Nintendo that I’m not like Cia. I promise.”

“Moving on from… that then. Why’s the real reason you wanted to be with me like this, I mean I get the feeling there’s more to it than you’re letting on.”

“You caught me I actually wa-”

The scowl that crossed his face when he was interrupted by the doorbell was unlike the cheery demeanour he’s been using, it’s almost like he’s angry or jealous of me having my attention split from him; it barely lasts a second though. Before his face swaps to one of remorse possibly because he got so irritated over something so trivial, that needs my focus more than he does right now. 

“I think you already know, but I should go check that. I’ll only be a couple of minutes, it’s probably nothing after all.”

Not even a word, just a nod and a look of rejection as if he was a cat I’d had to move off of me when I turned to go and answer the door. True to my word it wasn’t something that going to take long, simply signing for a couple of parcels. It only took me a few minutes to collect it and then start heading back to my room, I’ll be able to open them while I talk to Link after all. Really it would be cruel to make him wait after everything else he’s been through, even if he’s been monitoring… most of my movements, is it bad that I still feel bad after knowing that?

A shrill yelp followed by a shattering sound right when I was about to go back in wasn’t the best sign, the worst thing is that this time there wasn’t a digital overlay. Did someone break in - or break out? Only one way to find out.

“Honeybee? I - I’m sorry I - I really was trying to keep it in one piece.”

He’s out of the game.

Link is in my room bawling his eyes out because he accidentally broke my LED screen, the hero of hyrule is standing in my bedroom crying his eyes out because he broke a piece of glass. Earlier there was always a feeling of him trying to come off as likeable to me, to the point where it was manipulative, he wouldn’t even consider the idea of me not liking him. Now it’s like he’s having a panic attack at the possibility that I won’t like him because he broke my monitor. 

“I - I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Please - just - I - I didn’t mean to break it.”

“Link -”

“My clothes would probably be worth a fortune to someone right? I - I mean it’s an actual set of armour from the Hyrulian forces - it’s real chainmail. If you sell it - it’ll more than make up the cost, right? You won’t hate me if I did that, right?”

“Link. I don’t hate you, it was an accident and even if it wasn’t I would forgive you.”

That seemed to snap him out of it, if only a little; he’s still crying but now he’s not rambling about ways to make it up to me. He clearly seems to want me, even if I still don’t entirely get why so maybe I could; opening my arms proves the fact that he really does just want some affection. Waiting wasn’t even on the cards as he practically dove into my arms barely seconds after looking at me for permission. 

“You really don’t hate me then? Really? Even though I’m not as good as the other games?”

“I don’t hate you for wanting to get out of what was essentially your prison or - you being as good as the other games? Your game is different but it’s just as good”

“But - you and your friend both said it. I - I’m not canon. You still treated me well that‘s why I fell for you, but I’m still - I’m still less than the other games. So I just, I really wanted to prove to you that I can be the only one for you [name]”

Stroking his hair seems to be calming him down now, the tears are slowing and his breathing is evening out the longer I stay here with him; only a few more moments until I should be able to get some answers from him. Adjusting to having a roommate might be a little strange, he really does seem nice though, nicer than anyone else I’ve ever met. Wait no I’ve only really just met him, why am I already thinking about that? It’s something to consider for certain - oh come on, just admit to yourself that you love this. He cares so why not see where it all goes?

“Canon just describes the story, it doesn’t change anything about you and I’m sorry if it’s ever seemed like that link. Come on, I'll clean the glass up, then you can finish explaining things okay?”

“No wait, it’s my fault, let me clean it up for you. If nothing else, please honey.”

“You don’t have to, it’s not a bother.”

So he already knows his teary puppy face can get me to agree to anything, he’s been here for less than a few hours and it already feels like we’re in a relationship as he knows me inside out… Which makes sense given that he has been watching me through my phone. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad if I stopped fighting against what he’s offering.  The gloves he’s wearing make picking up shards less painful than it would be otherwise, doesn’t take him that long either.

Long enough for something to flicker on my switch, but that can wait.

[neechees]

Hi! Do you have any information about how to vet PayPal-based donation blogs based in Gaza? I got an ask from this user (screenshot below) and on their blog it seems that the only donation source is PayPal, but my understanding was that PayPal didn’t work there. I really don’t want to not help people because I misidentified their blog as suspicious but I don’t want to lead anyone to a false link or donation. Any help super appreciated.

First of, this user is a scammer. They're already on the scam list, and their pinned post is directly copying this genuine gfm (buy we know this can't be the person from the gfm, because the gfm doesn't link to this tumblr or offer that paypal the tumblr blog uses as a form of accepting donations)

Regarding vetting, I'll say, and this is important, that 1. I myself don't do the vetting, I call out the scams that are definitely scams and that I have proof of, and 2. The people who are doing the vetting are multiple Palestinian users on here (such as 90-ghost, nabulsi, el-shab-hussein-, & others) who have been on tumblr for quite some time, and who can confirm what Palestinian fundraisers are real because they either know them, know someone who knows them, or have talked to various Palestinians who have made new blogs and determined them to be genuine due to a number of factors. Most scammers are either not trying to talk to real Palestinians doing the vetting because they know they'll get caught lying (and many will block the users doing the vetting), OR the ones that DO are quickly found out anyway for various reasons (such as for obviously using something like Google translate).

But if you want tips on how to suss out who you think might be a scammer on your own, try these:

If a suspected blog claims to be "vetted and verified!" In their donation post or ask, go and look at their posts and blog: most genuine fundraisers who claim to be vetted will @ the users that vetted them, sometimes might even provide a link to a post of the vetter confirming them to be genuine, and/or you'll see a Palestinian user verbally confirming them to be genuine in the notes in one of their posts, OR you can go to a vetter's blog & look for their url. If they're actually vetted you'll find them there. Additionally, the person confirming them to be genuine MUST be a popular Palestinian user who is currently volunteering to be a vetter, it CANNOT be the suspected blog in question "verifying" themselves or any other rando. But many scammers are lying by starting off their post by saying they are "vetted" & sometimes even name dropping random users hoping nobody will double check to see if they're lying. Double check. You won't find any vetter in their notes confirming them to be real. If you're still unsure, don't interact with the blog or reblog their donation posts until you find evidence theyre vetted.

Go to the blog @kyra45 and have a look at our resources where Kyra helpfully gives tips on how to spot scams, and lists the really popular scammers & the stories they like to reuse. Also keep tabs on the "users pretending to be Palestinian" post there, where Kyra & others give daily updates on which users are scammers pretending to be Palestinian on the same post & give proof for why.

Connected to our resources post, but look at the tips posts, anc give the blog a scan to see if it fits any of the common red flags that of a scammer (and remember, these things have to be taken in context together, it can't just be one thing). Does the blog fit the description of any of the scammers we listed (such as one who constantly reuses the fake story of being a diabetic Palestinian & mentions humalog)? Does their paypal location match where they claim to be (such as, they say they're in the U.S but the paypal link says they're located in the Philippines)? Are they using a knockoff site instead of the more popular one (such as gogetfunding instead of gofundme)? Do they ONLY link to a paypal set to USD instead of a gofundme? Does their profile photo show up in another place but they're claiming its a photo of themselves (such as one I found where the photo belonged to a woman in Pakistan, & the scammer pretending to be Palestinian claimed the photo was of them)? Copy & paste the ask or parts of the ask they sent you: do other asks with the exact same or similar wording show up on lots of other answered asks in the tumblr search from now deactivated blogs? Does their donation post seem to have multiple replies, but the replies section shows nothing except a notification that says "some replies may be hidden or deleted", and/or replies are turned off? (<- this usually is an indication that this blog is a scammer, and people were calling them out, & so they hid those replies so no one could see the evidence). Does their url show up in the scam list? Things like that.

But if you're still unsure and want some help, and think a blog might be a scam, bring it to one of us scam busters (& there's about 8 of us currently active) & we'll have a look at it. If you think a blog might be real, visit a Palestinian vetter's blog and see if that url shows up. In the meantime when you still aren't sure, don't interact with blogs claiming to be Palestinian that you can't be sure are genuine.

[luimagines]

Elden Pampering

Another commission!

@daeyumi asked for BotW Link and some one on one time with Reader as partners where they just take an easy day. Enjoy.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

It was hard to think of a time where your life wasn’t this way. The time where your life was simple and plain, but undeniably safe and predictable. You and many of your friends and family had grown up that way so it was hard to think of doing something that would break the mold. You had thought you were content with that way of life.

There wasn’t anything wrong with it. There were times where you missed the simple comforts but it wasn’t until you met him that you felt like you were truly living.

Link had come into your village as if hell itself was on his heels. He had bought every carrot and arrow from your shop, collected nearly every piece of clothing that it offered and had left as if making the one of the biggest purchases you had ever seen was a regular occurrence.

He came by at least once a month to buy out your stock and you were beginning to wonder just who was this guy to not only have the money to keep dumping it all on your tiny homestead but to also do it multiple times.

This was a repeating pattern. At some point your neighbors started to ask you if you could keep the shop open a bit longer so they could get their needed equipment and/or food before Link came the next day to buy you out. You ended up agreeing since... well… You couldn’t deny them, for one. And two, the need outweighed the consequence.

You balanced it out by allowing yourself to sleep in the next day and figured that everyone was winning at the end of the day.

At some point you began to get excited when Link would visit. He would also come back to sell you the strangest of items with even wilder stories of how he came across such an object. He enthralled you. You found yourself wanting to see what he did. You found yourself wanting adventure... wanting something new, wanting to just… be near the crazy man that you couldn’t get out of your head.

You’re not entirely sure what started your relationship.

One minute you’re gently scolding him for not leaving any milk for anyone else (again) and the next you’re swept up onto the counter where you both confess that the meetings in your shop had taken on a more intimate tone than either of you were willing to admit before. He kissed you and swept you away from your village into the life you have now.

You had seen the world with fresh new eyes. Each new little marvel had taken your breath away. Was this truly the place in which you lived? Were there truly such treasures around every corner? Hidden in every nook and cranny?

Was this how Link saw Hyrule?

Of course, there are always shadows even on a sunny day.

You had to learn how to fight and how to use a weapon. And without a moment to lose. Link hadn’t held back from warning about the dangers you could potentially face out in the open. The monsters he mentioned had always seemed much more fearsome in your own head. IT wasn’t until you actually had to fight them yourself did you finally understand what he had been trying to prepare you for.

You… took a beating.

Link smiled sadly as he patched you up and apologized for not getting there on time. His touch was tender and soft. The calluses on his hands were a shock to your frazzled senses. A reminder that he had been on this journey far longer than you have and has gained the experience you needed to make it out in the middle of nowhere.

You took a deep breath and let him fret over you until you were fully healed. With time, you became more proficient in the way of the blade, and with even more time, you had branched out to other weapons, almost matching Link in the arsenal at his disposal.

Never to his skill set, mind you. It had taken an embarrassingly long time to figure out that this was the very same Link that had helped purge the land of the malice and free Hyrule Castle from the ever present curse.

He laughed at you when you finally put the pieces together. (But he later admitted that it only confirmed that your feelings for him were genuine, at least. He was glad that you didn’t see him for his title or his victories. You told him it was hard to think of him as the hero after you’ve seen him eat rocks.) He didn’t laugh for long at least.

The days were long and sometimes muscles you didn’t know you had were screaming at you from the treatment you pummeled into yourself just to keep up with Link. Other days though were spent cloud watching, meeting new and old friends, playing in the rivers and lakes of Hyrule, eating good food until you felt as if you could burst and simply enjoying every breath that filled your lungs.

You had taken to keeping a notebook, filled with countless drawings and doodles of your time together. It was filled with breathtaking scenery and jaw dropping creatures that you couldn’t wait to share with your family when you saw them again. You hoped it would be soon. You’re going to need a new notebook soon.

One day, after a particularly bad tumble down the side of a mountain from an unforeseen talus battle, Link had decided to venture through the Elden Region once more. He claimed that it was going to be an easy day.

Your legs protested otherwise.

“Link.” You groaned, wanting to be melodramatic and doted on by your partner. “We’ve been walking for hours. Can’t we take a break yet? You said it was going to be an easy day today.”

“I know, I know.” Link gives you a soft and patient smile. Not only is Elden hot enough to cook you alive but the sun itself is particularly unforgiving today. You have no idea where he’s going with this. Link takes your hand and pulls you to his side, helping you descend a small hill before taking another turn. “We’re almost there, I promise. Have I ever broken a promise to you?”

“Yes.” You grumble, trying to bite back a teasing grin. “Remember the fireflies and the pumpkin soup-”

“That was one time and an unfair circumstance.” Link huff, pouting. “You know those cuccos can be vindictive creatures when they want to be.”

You let a small snort slip from your otherwise deadpan expression. “Mhm… I’m sure you deserved it.”

“Mean.” Link chuckles and shakes his head. “Here I am, trying to do something nice for the light of my life and this is the thanks I get.”

“Don’t be corny.” You playfully push him, reaching your destination in the middle of your next sentence. “I was just saying- …. Oh, Link.”

The young man next to you grins. “You like it? You mentioned wanting to visit them one day.”

He had taken you to the hot springs and somehow had already set up a small picnic with the basket and blanket by the water. How it’s not already being set ablaze, you don’t know. But the idea of relaxing in the hot spring is too tempting for you to bother questioning it right now.

“I needed this.” You drop your equipment at once. “Thank you. I was so confused why we were in Elden to begin with.”

“I would question that.” Link chuckles, also taking off his armor and equipment. “But it really only worked in my favor so by all means jump in. We don’t have to do anything else today, so we can be here as long as you want.”

“Perfect.” You grinned.

It takes a moment, but eventually you both settle yourselves into the borderline boiling water. You let out a soft hiss and tilt your head back, allowing yourself to float onto your back in one of the bigger pools of water. It does wonders for your aching body and you can only question why neither of you have had this idea sooner.

Link sits somewhere next to you, fiddling with the basket, doing who knows what. After an approximate ten minutes, you sit up and knock the water out of your ears. You can see that Link was setting up some tea and cooking your lunch on a nearby (hopefully cleaned) stone.

You give him a flat look. “I thought we were supposed to be relaxing.”

“You’re relaxing.” He replied, not even looking at you. He pokes a bit at the steeping leaves in the teapot. “That’s what we’re here for.”

You let out a soft sigh and move over to him. You take his hand, stopping it in its tracks and pull him back closer to you. “Not you?”

Link gulps softly, watching your hand lead him back over to you. You see his eyes dip down for a split second, as if he’s finally looking at (and admiring) you since you’ve got there. “...I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh.” You chuckle. You reach over, taking a strand of his hair now that he’s let it down. A leaf gets caught and you gently pull it out. “Even so, I want your attention. Please?”

His eyes darted over to the food and the tea he was preparing but you couldn’t care less for that. You float over, blocking his view. “Link~”

“Ok, ok-” He shakes his head and brushes his hair away from his face. “You got me. What do you want me to do?”

“Sit.” You guide him in front of you, getting out of the spring so that you can sit on the small ledge.

“What are you-”

“Shush.” You put him between your legs, gently carding your fingers through his hair. “Let me know if it hurts at any point, ok?”

“....mhm…” He seems confused and a bit nervous but he trusts you enough to let you go through with whatever you have in mind for him without question.

It makes you smile.

Dipping down, you cup a bit of the hot water and very slowly pour it from hand to hand, letting it drip onto the top of his head without burning him. You do it again and again, running your nails over his scalp to work the water down and wet his hair.

You can almost see Link physically let go of the strain he’s also been through. He melts at your touch, leaning back and letting his body sink as deep into the water as it can get in the shallow section of the hot spring. His head tilts back like a pleased cat, humming his contentment as you scratch your nails against his scalp.

It makes you giggle. “Feel good?”

“Yes.” He says breathlessly, as if he’s afraid to speak at full volume and ruin the moment. “It feels perfect.”

His words bring out another giggle in you. You continue to give him a scalp massage before moving down to his neck and shoulders. You have to repeat the same pouring technique you used earlier to make sure that you don’t drag on his skin in the process.

In doing so, you shamelessly take the time to admire and appreciate how well toned his muscles are. You don’t think he minds in the process.  “Did you honestly think that you would successfully be able to make this all about me?”

Link grunts, not bothering to open his eyes. “You can’t blame me for trying.”

“I suppose not.” You say softly, kneading the knots between his shoulder blades. “But don’t forget that you work just as hard as I do, if not more. You can afford to take a moment for yourself every now and then.”

He huffs and tilts his head further back, giving you a boyish grin with flushed cheeks. “What do you call this then?”

“This is called~” You tease, leaning closer to him in the process. You grin and tilt your head, faintly brushing your nose against his. “-pampering you the way you deserve.”

“You’re good to me.”

“I try to be.” You laugh and lean away, continuing to knead into his shoulders. “Move your head up a bit so I can reach this spot.”

“Nuh-uh. Don’t wanna~”

“Liinnkkk.” You groan and flick his forehead.

“Ow.”

“Please?”

“Not now. You hurt me.”

“Oh my goodness-!” You huff and playfully pout over his stubbornness. You lean back, putting your hand on the warmth of the blanket behind you. You finally turn around back to where the tea and snacks lay abandoned. You notice a new box that Link must have taken out of the basket while you had your eyes closed. You twist your hips and lean further back to reach.

Surprisingly, it’s cold.

You open it, revealing that the insides are encased in ice. The ice blocks have to at least be two inches thick, leaving very little room for the items in the middle. You pull the box closer to get a better look inside.

It’s grapes.

You gasp, a bright smile on your face blooming at the sight of them. You get an idea, plucking one from the stem. You twist back over, running your free hand through Link’s hair once more. He kept his head tilted back, resting it against your lap with his eyes closed. You tap his lips with unrestrained glee. “Open.”

He opens his eyes. Confusion filters through them before he registers the grape you hold between your fingers. He gets a matching grin to mirror yours and opens his mouth.

You feed him the grape.

He chews and swallows, opening his mouth for more. Vaguely, it reminds you of a baby bird.

Twisting once more, you grab a handful of grapes this time, feeding your partner one by one until you have no more. You keep running your hand through his hair, smiling all the while. “Does that make up for ‘hurting’ you Mr. Link?”

Link gets a cheeky grin, the kind that spells trouble. “Not quite.”

You pout. “Oh come on!”

He snorts, dissolving into boyishly unapologetic giggles. “Come back into the water. We came here for you after all.”

“We came here for us.” You amend, pushing him aside so that you can slip beside him. “Considering I didn’t know we were coming here to begin with.”

Link doesn’t hesitate to hop up from the water for a moment and bring the ice box closer to the both of you so that you can both reach the ice cold grapes. He holds one out to you, playfully holding it out of your reach when you try to take it from him.

Not wanting to ruin the moment, you sigh and open your mouth. Link feeds you the grape this time. He chuckles again, getting another grape to feed you with. “Don’t think you can turn this all around on me that quickly. I had a whole thing planned out.”

“Did you intend it to take the entire morning to get here first?” You tease, snuggling close to him as the hot spring’s heat seeps into the depth of your bones.

Link wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing you even closer to him. He begins to run his hands through your hair, not dissimilar to how you were doing it earlier to him. “...So we’re a little behind schedule.”

“There’s a schedule?”

“I told you, I had a whole thing planned.” He says sheepishly. “Is it wrong of me to want to spoil you every now and then? I’m aware my lifestyle and travels aren’t exactly the easiest to deal with. Not to mention that I know that I tend to drag you around from place to place with little warning… like this morning. And yet, despite the danger and troubles you rarely complain and even encourage my shenanigans.”

“I happen to like your shenanigans.” You rest your head on his shoulder, letting him feed you one more grape. “And I like the change of pace. There’s just… always something to do with you. It’s fun. Although I do happen to think that I complain a lot more than I’m willing to admit.”

“That’s because you’re still new at this.” He laughs and kisses your temple. “Just give it a few more months and you’ll be able to hold up on your own just fine.”

“I don’t know~... I might still complain just for the heck of it.”

“You’re not going to let me just tell you nice things, huh? Gotta always have the last word.” Link pokes your waist mercilessly.

You jump, squawking indignantly. You smack his chest and attempt to squirm away. He doesn’t let you. If anything, he starts to poke you more and more, watching his sadistic glee as laughter tumbles from your lips. The water goes flying as you flail.

“Link! Let go! It tickles!” You try to push him away.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“Link!”

“Say it.”

“Say what?!” You try to grab his hands to stop him from tickling you anymore.

Link shrugs, as if he wasn’t attacking you as you spoke. “Say you love me.”

“That’s it?!”

He pokes some more despite your best efforts to get him to stop. “I’m not hearing it.”

“Ok, ok, ok!” You squeal. “I love you! Happy? I love you, I said it!”

He finally stops, allowing you to catch your breath. He pops one last grape into his mouth as he gives you a victory smile. Silence falls over you both as you begin to catch your breath. He brings you back to his side where you both relax into the water once more.

Link absentmindedly rubs his thumb over your shoulder before he turns his head back to where the basket was. “Tea? It’s warm.”

“Yes, please. Thank you.”