#nothing. fucking Nothing has changed at All.

[somnoir]

Damian's future husband

Got inspired by this specific line in a Tumblr thread and my brain went to work

Phantom was a strange hero—a vigilante that often worked with Justice League Dark. Constantine was always so antsy around the man, while Phantom himself often muttered about taxes and blasted fragments whenever said trech coat man was in the vicinity.

The Bats were, of course, initially apprehensive of the death defying being that could rip a man skeleton out of their body, manipulate space itself to rip open portals to different dimensions, and vanish better than they did. They were wary, mildly hostile after realising that Phantom had now issue killing.

But then time passed and Phantom was proven to not be a serial killer but only used killing as a last resort. Though Batman wasn't too pleased, he was—begrudgingly—tolerant of that. Because, yes, Phantom was a nice guy, a very likeable person in general. He made sure that the environmental damage during battles were kept to a minimum, he chose civilians over the enemy whenever it came to hostage situations, he was tactile and kind, and he cared so much for the innocent that he was willing to lose his innocence to keep theirs.

Of course Batman was fond of the young man, especially when he found out that Jason of all people had some sort of crush on him. A very big and almost pathetic one that he and Alfred would watch while sipping tea.

Seriously, Jason was his son! Has he not learned anything from his Brucie persona? The poor thing was like a Victorian maiden and would be scandalised at the mere thought of showing an ankle.

It was embarrassing how he'd practically start blue screening the moment Phantom was in the vicinity. As a father, Bruce was gracious enough not to bully his poor son whenever it came to Phantom. His siblings, on the other hand, held no such qualms and mercilessly dug into Jason.

In all honesty, he pitied Jason after hearing that Phantom assumed that Jason just didn't like him.

He really had to talk to him.

"You fucking hypocrite."

And that was a failure because Bruce forgot that he was just as constipated as his son.

"I'm not taking advice from the man who couldn't even try to be softer in his secret crush!"

With that, Jason slammed the door and left.

Okay... Plan B?

But what the hell was plan B?

Right.

Dick Grayson.

Bruce: About your brother...

Bird child #1: OH MY GOD

Bird child #1: THANK FUCK YOU FINALLY MENTIONED IT

Bruce: it's become an issue

Bruce: Alfred has commented that it's pathetic now.

Bird child #1: Wait wait

Bird child #1: I'll add you to the group chat!

And this Bruce Wayne found himself in a GC named 'Phantom of the Watchtower'. Along with all the complaints expressed by both family and friends when it came to Jason's bullshit.

Ah well... At least he wasn't alone in the suffering.

(Jason did not need to know that there was a video of him grappling through Gotham, Phantom passing by and waving at him, and Jason proceeding to hit a wall mid flight.)

Dick knows that his little wing has had trouble in relationships for a long time. His resurrection changed him, changed how he perceived his relationships. Dick didn't have the heart to be mad about it.

Phantom's arrival was a breath of fresh air for them.

But he suspects that Jason's attraction began with the fact that Phantom had died young as well. Fourteen from what was said. He had died much younger than Jason and had came back a hero, willing to protect the innocent and do what was best for those around him. Sometimes Dick suspects that Jason not only wanted to be with Phantom, but also to be similar to him.

Now he's watching Jason fumble with his words again, immediately going quiet once he realized that nothing coherent was coming out of his mouth. The helmet most likely hid how red his face was.

"Are you alright?" Phantom asked, frowning up at Jason. "You don't feel too good. Is the corrupted ecto acting up again? Oh, I knew I should have sped up the process of removing it but then it'd be very painful if I did it at once. And Frostbite recommended that we went slowly so we could monitor the side effect... And, and—"

"I'm okay." Red Hood immediately assured, his hand practically flying to Phantom's cheek then he shoved it down before he could even touch Phantom. "It's been a long day."

"Is the Joker out again?" Phantom's frown deepened.

Another thing Dick has learned about the dead and the undead! The fact that their murderer was still active unsettled then greatly and affected their entire mentality and behaviour.

"No. No. He hasn't tried escaping."

Phantom hummed, "I see. So what's bothering you."

"It's nothing." Jason grunted, sounding a little too much like Bruce for Dick's liking.

Okay, nope, he wasn't going to let this continue if his baby brother was going to continue making Phantom assumed he didn't like him. Nightwing to the rescue!

"Phantom! Hi!" Nightwing quite literally dropped into the alley, running his fingers through his hair and smoothly directing Jason away from whatever catastrophic misunderstanding he was walking into.

"Hello Nightwing! It's nice to see you again? How's Kori? Oooh! I wanted to invite her to a space date again—" He rambled on and on, eyes practically starry. Wait, nevermind. His eyes really were starry.

(Meanwhile, Jason was cursing his older brother for taking the attention from but also very thankful that Phantom didn't have to witness his stupidity again.)

Tim had noticed that the Joker hasn't attempted to break out in a long... Long time.

It's not a bad thing, no. It was great, in all honesty. But of course, Tim was paranoid, almost batshir crazy (pun intended, in the words of his damn boyfriends). The surveillance feed on Arkham was updated a long time ago, watching it very closely until static overtook the screen.

"Replacement," Tim startled, blinking before he saw Jason peering at him with a questioning look. Practically interrogating him on the spot. "The hell is that?"

"I don't know." Tim clicked his tongue, "This hasn't happened after Babs and I updated those damn cameras. Fuck, give me a second..."

"Did the Joker get out?" Jason practically growled.

"No, no. I'm sure he didn't. He would have been causing trouble by now." Tim reassured, clicking his tongue again before the feed went back to normal. Joker's cell seemed perfectly fine, with the Joker fast asleep on his little cot. "See, just some static. Maybe Phantom passed by."

The mere mention of Phantom has Jason blue screening, instincts kicking in as his older brother shoved his helmet over his head again. Then the idiot gets on his bike and speeds out of the cave.

Coward.

Tim whipped his head around, quickly surveying the area.

The static wasn't random. Phantom always had to be in front of the camera to directly affect the feed. So thank fuck when he made friends with Phantom's teammate—Pharaoh—and figured out how to fix any distorted imagery.

He sees Phantom standing over the Joker's unconscious body, plunging his hand into the maniac's chest and pulled out a glowing green orb. A core, from what he remembered. Holy shit, was the Joker a ghost too?

But he saw how Phantom seemed to put restraints around it, literal chains before shoving it back inside.

Slowly, Phantom turned to the camera, his entire figure still distorted, but he could see that fanged grin that his brother seemed to swoon over.

(The Joker was still alive, very much, but no one could understand how he was stuck in an almost permanent coma. Tim wasn't going to give Jason even more reason to start giggling over Phantom, unless he wanted to ruin the entire Dead on Main operation.)

Damian did not quite understand the insanity that was multiple individuals (including those that were not of their brood) attempting to matchmake Todd with Phantom. He didn't understand what was so great about Phantom, in all honesty.

He was heroic, powerful, and quite intelligent. Many people held similar traits. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a deathly being that attracted Todd in the first place.

"Hello, Robin!" Phantom greeted one day, eyes shimmering like the stars in his cape. "Superboy said you had something to tell me?"

Damian shifted slightly, "Yes. Are you aware of the Lazarus Pits?"

"Ah... Yes, of course. My court and I have been trying to destroy all of them. The Lazarus is corrupted ectoplasm that has been mixed with filth of all kinds." Phantom hummed.

"Filth of all kinds... Disgusting." Damian frowned, nose scrunching up at the memory that he's bathed in those pits before. "But I digress. I would like to assist in the destruction of the pits. Father and the rest of the family has fretted over my grandfather's pits for many years and we have barely grazed the surface on what the Lazarus truly was."

"I see! I was planning on asking Batman to help out on that. But since you've already asked, would you like to come to the Realms? I'm sure you can interrogate some of the ghosts your grandfather has wronged." Phantom grinned, already offering Damian a hand. He was floating, while Damian stood in the roof and stared at the hand.

It reminded him of the kryptonians. But Phantom's hand was cold and he didn't yank Damian the same way Jon often did.

No, Phantom took Damian's hand and then proceeded to hook an arm around Damian's waist, pulling him of the roof and into the air. And then they were flying into a glowing green portal that reminded Damian of the pits.

The moment they were in the infinite realms, Damian felt the overwhelming pressure of the dead. He swallowed the bile that rose from his throat as Phantom set him down on solid ground. The entire place felt eerie and strange, of course it was. This was the afterlife.

"Right, I forgot." Phantom cursed, "You're not as liminal as my family. Give me a second, baby bat." He murmured, his hand glowing green before it's gently pushed into Damian's chest. A sudden wave of warmth overtook his entire body and Damian stared at the ghost.

"I'm giving you a bit of Ecto to reduce any discomfort here in the realms. It'll flush itself out in 24 hours so don't worry about becoming overly liminal." Phantom smiled softly, before he offered his hand to Damian again. "Let's go? I have to stop by my keep to check the records of Al Ghuls victims."

"Of course."

And instead of being carried like a cat, Phantom picked him up bridal style and flew past what seemed to be floating islands and towards a large red and purple castle.

Is this was Todd feels? Damian asked himself, oddly enjoying this experience.

The moment they landed—

"Your majesty!" A floating eyeball yelled, rushing towards them. "You've brought an outsider—"

"Away with you." Phantom snapped, a crown and cape of stars suddenly appearing on him. "This is Robin. Ra's Al Ghul's grandchild."

"The Demon's head..."

"Yes, now shoo." Phantom snapped, before leading Damian away from the eyeball. "I'm sorry for my Observants. They're a conservative bunch."

"You are a king?"

"Mhm... Though I don't like to advertise it. The last king was a tyrant and I defeated him a little while after my death. I never intended to be king, in all honesty. But here I am." He gestured to the crown of fire and ice and the cape of stars. His grin was strained and quite troubled but he didn't mind leading Damian towards a large room filled with bigger files.

"Now, would you like to search yourself or do you want me to have someone else do it?"

Damian grimaced at the sight. "I'd prefer for someone else to suffer."

And that's how Damian found himself touring the realms, with Phantom happily bringing Damian to the arena where a ghost named Skulker awaited them. The man was a hunter, respectful towards Phantom yet troublesome as he challenged him. Phantom looked utterly annoyed, before he turned to Damian with sparkling eyes.

"What about you, Robin?"

And then Damian was fighting everyone and everything in the realms at the behest and amusement of Phantom. The ghost king provided him with different weapons each time an enemy switched.

It's only when they returned to the land of the living that he's informed that any weapon he's used is now his.

And he has a cat with him! The ghost of a small yet ferocious kitten that had his under Phantom's cape whilst Damian and other ghosts fought to glorious battle. Phantom kindly offered her to him, naming her Astra with the star shaped pupils in her eyes.

Damian is quite sure he has fallen in love.

Damian returns to the manor, utterly awestruck and infatuated. Thankfully (unfortunately), Todd is in attendance when Phantom carries him out of the portal, still held in a bridal carry with Damian actively clinging to Phantom like he had hung the stars (maybe he did).

"Sorry if we worried you! Robin wanted to help with our Lazarus problems since it's also your problem too." Phantom quickly explains once he saw Batman's troubled expression. "Don't worry about your gifts. I'll figure out a way to make you a dimensional bag."

Damian stared, "May I visit the realms again? If you would be amendable to it."

"Of course! You're my favorite, so why wouldn't I?"

Hah! Hear that? Take that, Todd!

Phantom vanishes into his portal seconds later, leaving Damian with the most beautiful and intricated sword in his hands. Blinking quietly, he whirled around and pointed the sword at Jason, who instinctively went into a battle stance.

"You may be my brother, Todd, but if you have not married Phantom once I am of age, I shall fight for his hand in marriage himself."

(Jason knows very well that Damian isn't joking and proceeds to practically plan the most novel-esque confession to date. Jane Austen might just be proud.)

Masterpost

[dumpsterkvtten]

They are framing it as unhinged women cheering for sexy man. Yeaaaa…because women are incapable of having big man thought nothing to do with the corrupt system at hand creating resentment that Luigi brought further into the light and along with it widespread class consciousness where culture wars have begun to dissipate rapidly in favor of a change to our healthcare system.

What a bunch of pussies, I hate seeing the word disturbing written when describing our reaction to this. Like get so fucking fr you know what’s disturbing?? Listening to kids death gurgles for hours while playing on your phone and using hand sanitizer (ahem-Uvalde-ahem) out of all the atrocities here in America a CEO dying doesn’t even make the fucking list. My excitement,happiness, or general lack of care isn’t disturbing it’s an expected reaction to a system that has continued to fail Americans to the point of exhaustion and justified rage.

So wooooooooo!!! Luigi yippee!!! 🖤🖤 I hope every live audience cheers everytime at the mere mention of his name.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

They were warned

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

Truth is provisional! Sometimes, the things we understand to be true about the world change, and stuff we've "always done" has to change, too. There comes a day when the evidence against using radium suppositories is overwhelming, and then you really must dig that radium out of your colon and safely dispose of it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/19/just-stop-putting-that-up-your-ass/#harm-reduction

So it's natural and right that in the world, there will be people who want to revisit the received wisdom and best practices for how we live our lives, regulate our economy, and organize our society. But not a license to simply throw out the systems we rely on. Sure, maybe they're outdated or unnecessary, but maybe not. That's where "Chesterton's Fence" comes in:

Let us say, for the sake of simplicity, a fence or gate erected across a road. The more modern type of reformer goes gaily up to it and says, "I don't see the use of this; let us clear it away." To which the more intelligent type of reformer will do well to answer: "If you don't see the use of it, I certainly won't let you clear it away. Go away and think. Then, when you can come back and tell me that you do see the use of it, I may allow you to destroy it."

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G._K._Chesterton#Chesterton's_fence

In other words, it's not enough to say, "This principle gets in the way of something I want to do, so let's throw it out because I'm pretty sure the inconvenience I'm experiencing is worse than the consequences of doing away with this principle." You need to have a theory of how you will prevent the harms the principle protects us from once you tear it down. That theory can be "the harms are imaginary" so it doesn't matter. Like, if you get rid of all the measures that defend us from hexes placed by evil witches, it's OK to say, "This is safe because evil witches aren't real and neither are hexes."

But you'd better be sure! After all, some preventative measures work so well that no living person has experienced the harms they guard us against. It's easy to mistake these for imaginary or exaggerated. Think of the antivaxers who are ideologically committed to a world in which human beings do not have a shared destiny, meaning that no one has a moral claim over the choices you make. Motivated reasoning lets those people rationalize their way into imagining that measles – a deadly and ferociously contagious disease that was a scourge for millennia until we all but extinguished it – was no big deal:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Measles:_A_Dangerous_Illness

There's nothing wrong with asking whether longstanding health measures need to be carried on, or whether they can be sunset. But antivaxers' sloppy, reckless reasoning about contagious disease is inexcusable. They were warned, repeatedly, about the mass death and widespread lifelong disability that would follow from their pursuit of an ideological commitment to living as though their decisions have no effect on others. They pressed ahead anyway, inventing ever-more fanciful reasons why health is a purely private matter, and why "public health" was either a myth or a Communist conspiracy:

https://www.conspirituality.net/episodes/brief-vinay-prasad-pick-me-campaign

When RFK Jr kills your kids with measles or permanently disables them with polio, he doesn't get to say "I was just inquiring as to the efficacy of a longstanding measure, as is right and proper." He was told why the vaccine fence was there, and he came up with objectively very stupid reasons why that didn't matter, and then he killed your kids. He was warned.

Fuck that guy.

Or take Bill Clinton. From 1933 until 1999, American banks were regulated under the Glass-Steagall Act, which "structurally separated" them. Under structural separation, a "retail bank" – the bank that holds your savings and mortgage and provides you with a checkbook – could not be "investment bank." That meant it couldn't own or invest in businesses that competed with the businesses its depositors and borrowers ran. It couldn't get into other lines of business, either, like insurance underwriting.

Glass-Steagall was a fence that stood between retail banks and the casino economy. It was there for a fucking great reason: the failure to structurally separate banks allowed them to act like casinos, inflating a giant market bubble that popped on Black Friday in October 1929, kicking off the Great Depression. Congress built the structural separation fence to keep banks from doing it again.

In the 1990s, Bill Clinton agitated for getting rid of Glass-Steagall. He argued that new economic controls would allow the government to prevent another giant bubble and crash. This time, the banks would behave themselves. After all, hadn't they demonstrated their prudence for seven decades?

In fact, they hadn't. Every time banks figured out how to slip out of regulatory constraints they inflated another huge bubble, leading to another massive crash that made the rich obscenely richer and destroyed ordinary savers' lives. Clinton took office just as one of these finance-sector bombs – the S&L Crisis – was detonating. Clinton had no basis – apart from wishful thinking – to believe that deregulating banks would lead to anything but another gigantic crash.

But Clinton let his self interest – in presiding over a sugar-high economic expansion driven by deregulation – overrule his prudence (about the crash that would follow). Sure enough, in the last months of Clinton's presidency, the stock market imploded with the March 2000 dot-bomb. And because Congress learned nothing from the dot-com crash and declined to restore the Glass-Steagall fence, the crash led to another bubble, this time in subprime mortgages, and then, inevitably, we suffered the Great Financial Crisis.

Look: there's no virtue in having bank regulations for the sake of having them. It is conceptually possible for bank regulations to be useless or even harmful. There's nothing wrong with investigating whether the 70-year old Glass-Steagall Act was still needed in 1999. But Clinton was provided with a mountain of evidence about why Glass-Steagall was the only thing standing between Americans and economic chaos, including the evidence of the S&L Crisis, which was still underway when he took office, and he ignored all of them. If you lost everything – your home, your savings, your pension – in the dot-bomb or the Great Financial Crisis, Bill Clinton is to blame. He was warned. he ignored the warnings.

Fuck that guy.

No, seriously, fuck Bill Clinton. Deregulating banks wasn't Clinton's only passion. He also wanted to ban working cryptography. The cornerstone of Clinton's tech policy was the "Clipper Chip," a backdoored encryption chip that, by law, every technology was supposed to use. If Clipper had gone into effect, then cops, spooks, and anyone who could suborn, bribe, or trick a cop or a spook could break into any computer, server, mobile device, or embedded system in America.

When Clinton was told – over and over, in small, easy-to-understand words – that there was no way to make a security system that only worked when "bad guys" tried to break into it, but collapsed immediately if a "good guy" wanted to bypass it. We explained to him – oh, how we explained to him! – that working encryption would be all that stood between your pacemaker's firmware and a malicious update that killed you where you stood; all that stood between your antilock brakes' firmware and a malicious update that sent you careening off a cliff; all that stood between businesses and corporate espionage, all that stood between America and foreign state adversaries wanting to learn its secrets.

In response, Clinton said the same thing that all of his successors in the Crypto Wars have said: NERD HARDER! Just figure it out. Cops need to look at bad guys' phones, so you need to figure out how to make encryption that keeps teenagers safe from sextortionists, but melts away the second a cop tries to unlock a suspect's phone. Take Malcolm Turnbull, the former Australian Prime Minister. When he was told that the laws of mathematics dictated that it was impossible to build selectively effective encryption of the sort he was demanding, he replied, "The laws of mathematics are very commendable but the only law that applies in Australia is the law of Australia":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/07/australian-pm-calls-end-end-encryption-ban-says-laws-mathematics-dont-apply-down

Fuck that guy. Fuck Bill Clinton. Fuck a succession of UK Prime Ministers who have repeatedly attempted to ban working encryption. Fuck 'em all. The stakes here are obscenely high. They have been warned, and all they say in response is "NERD HARDER!"

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/05/theyre-still-trying-to-ban-cryptography/

Now, of course, "crypto means cryptography," but the other crypto – cryptocurrency – deserves a look-in here. Cryptocurrency proponents advocate for a system of deregulated money creation, AKA "wildcat currencies." They say, variously, that central banks are no longer needed; or that we never needed central banks to regulate the money supply. Let's take away that fence. Why not? It's not fit for purpose today, and maybe it never was.

Why do we have central banks? The Fed – which is far from a perfect institution and could use substantial reform or even replacement – was created because the age of wildcat currencies was a nightmare. Wildcat currencies created wild economic swings, massive booms and even bigger busts. Wildcat currencies are the reason that abandoned haunted mansions feature so heavily in the American imagination: American towns and cities were dotted with giant mansions built by financiers who'd grown rich as bubbles expanded, then lost it all after the crash.

Prudent management of the money supply didn't end those booms and busts, but it substantially dampened them, ending the so-called "business cycle" that once terrorized Americans, destroying their towns and livelihoods and wiping out their savings.

It shouldn't surprise us that a new wildcat money sector, flogging "decentralized" cryptocurrencies (that they are nevertheless weirdly anxious to swap for your gross, boring old "fiat" money) has created a series of massive booms and busts, with insiders getting richer and richer, and retail investors losing everything.

If there was ever any doubt about whether wildcat currencies could be made safe by putting them on a blockchain, it is gone. Wildcat currencies are as dangerous today as they were in the 18th and 19th century – only moreso, since this new bad paper relies on the endless consumption of whole rainforests' worth of carbon, endangering not just our economy, but also the habitability of the planet Earth.

And nevertheless, the Trump administration is promising a new crypto golden age (or, ahem, a Gilded Age). And there are plenty of Democrats who continue to throw in with the rotten, corrupt crypto industry, which flushed billions into the 2024 election to bring Trump to office. The result is absolutely going to be more massive bubbles and life-destroying implosions. Fuck those guys. They were warned, and they did it anyway.

Speaking of the climate emergency: greetings from smoky Los Angeles! My city's on fire. This was not an unforeseeable disaster. Malibu is the most on-fire place in the world:

https://longreads.com/2018/12/04/the-case-for-letting-malibu-burn/

Since 1919, the region has been managed on the basis of "total fire suppression." This policy continued long after science showed that this creates "fire debt" in the form of accumulated fuel. The longer you go between fires, the hotter and more destructive those fires become, and the relationship is nonlinear. A 50-year fire isn't 250% more intense than a 20-year fire: it's 50,000% more intense.

Despite this, California has invested peanuts in regular controlled burns, which has created biennial uncontrolled burns – wildfires that cost thousands of times more than any controlled burn.

Speaking of underinvestment: PG&E has spent decades extracting dividends for its investors and bonuses for its execs, while engaging in near-total neglect of maintenance of its high-voltage transmission lines. Even with normal winds, these lines routinely fall down and start blazes.

But we don't have normal winds. The climate emergency has been steadily worsening for decades. LA is just the latest place to be on fire, or under water, or under ice, or baking in wet bulb temperatures. Last week in southern California, we were warned to expect gusts of 120mph.

They were warned. #ExxonKnew: in the early 1970s, Exxon's own scientists warned them that fossil fuel consumption would kick off climate change so drastic that it would endanger human civilzation. Exxon responded by burying the reports and investing in climate denial:

https://exxonknew.org/

They were warned! Warned about fire debt. Warned about transmission lines. Warned about climate change. And specific, named people, who individually had the power to heed these warnings and stave off disaster, ignored the warnings. They didn't make honest mistakes, either: they ignored the warnings because doing so made them extraordinarily, disgustingly rich. They used this money to create dynastic fortunes, and have created entire lineages of ultra-wealthy princelings in $900,000 watches who owe it all to our suffering and impending dooml

Fuck those guys. Fuck 'em all.

We've had so many missed opportunities, chances to make good policy or at least not make bad policy. The enshitternet didn't happen on its own. It was the foreseeable result of choices – again, choices made by named individuals who became very wealthy by ignoring the warnings all around them.

Let's go back to Bill Clinton, because more than anyone else, Clinton presided over some terrible technology regulations. In 1998, Clinton signed the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, a bill championed by Barney Frank (fuck that guy, too). Under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, it's a felony, punishable by a five year prison sentence, and a $500,000 fine, to tamper with a "digital lock."

That means that if HP uses a digital lock to prevent you from using third-party ink, it's a literal crime to bypass that lock. Which is why HP ink now costs $10,000/gallon, and why you print your shopping lists with colored water that costs more, ounce for ounce, than the sperm of a Kentucky Derby winner:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/30/life-finds-a-way/#ink-stained-wretches

Clinton was warned that DMCA 1201 would soon metastasize into every kind of device – not just the games consoles and DVD players where it was first used, but medical implants, tractors, cars, home appliances – anything you could put a microchip into (Jay Freeman calls this "felony contempt of business-model"):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

He ignored those warnings and signed the DMCA anyway (fuck that guy). Then, under Bush (fuck that guy), the US Trade Representative went all around the world demanding that America's trading partners adopt versions of this law (fuck that guy). In 2001, the European Parliament capitulated, enacting the EU Copyright Directive, whose Article 6 is a copy-paste of DMCA 1201 (fuck all those people).

Fast forward 20 years, and boy is there a lot of shit with microchips that can be boobytrapped with rent-extracting logic bombs that are illegal to research, describe, or disable.

Like choo-choo trains.

Last year, the Polish hacking group Dragon Sector was contacted by a public sector train company whose Newag trains kept going out of service. The operator suspected that Newag had boobytrapped the trains to punish the train company for getting its maintenance from a third-party contractor. When Dragon Sector investigated, they discovered that Newag had indeed riddled the trains' firmware with boobytraps. Trains that were taken to locations known to have third-party maintenance workshops were immediately bricked (hilariously, this bomb would detonate if trains just passed through stations near to these workshops, which is why another train company had to remove all the GPSes from its trains – they kept slamming to a halt when they approached a station near a third-party workshop). But Newag's logic bombs would brick trains for all kinds of reasons – merely keeping a train stationary for too many days would result in its being bricked. Installing a third-party component in a locomotive would also trigger a bomb, bricking the train.

In their talk at last year's Chaos Communications Congress, the Dragon Sector folks describe how they have been legally terrorized by Newag, which has repeatedly sued them for violating its "intellectual property" by revealing its sleazy, corrupt business practices. They also note that Newag continues to sell lots of trains in Poland, despite the widespread knowledge of its dirty business model, because public train operators are bound by procurement rules, and as long as Newag is the cheapest bidder, they get the contract:

https://media.ccc.de/v/38c3-we-ve-not-been-trained-for-this-life-after-the-newag-drm-disclosure

The laws that let Newag make millions off a nakedly corrupt enterprise – and put the individuals who blew the whistle on it at risk of losing everything – were passed by Members of the European Parliament who were warned that this would happen, and they ignored those warnings, and now it's happening. Fuck those people, every one of 'em.

It's not just European parliamentarians who ignored warnings and did the bidding of the US Trade Representative, enacting laws that banned tampering with digital locks. In 2010, two Canadian Conservative Party ministers in the Stephen Harper government brought forward similar legislation. These ministers, Tony Clement (now a disgraced sex-pest and PPE grifter) and James Moore (today, a sleazeball white-shoe corporate lawyer), held a consultation on this proposal.

6, 138 people wrote in to say, "Don't do this, it will be hugely destructive." 54 respondents wrote in support of it. Clement and Moore threw out the 6,138 opposing comments. Moore explained why: these were the "babyish" responses of "radical extremists." The law passed in 2012.

Last year, the Canadian Parliament passed bills guaranteeing Canadians the Right to Repair and the right to interoperability. But Canadians can't act on either of these laws, because they would have to tamper with a digital lock to do so, and that's illegal, thanks to Tony Clement and James Moore. Who were warned. And who ignored those warnings. Fuck those guys:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/15/radical-extremists/#sex-pest

Back in the 1990s, Bill Clinton had a ton of proposals for regulating the internet, but nowhere among those proposals will you find a consumer privacy law. The last time an American president signed a consumer privacy law was 1988, when Reagan signed the Video Privacy Protection Act and ensured that Americans would never have to worry that video-store clerks where telling the newspapers what VHS cassettes they took home.

In the years since, Congress has enacted exactly zero consumer privacy laws. None. This has allowed the out-of-control, unregulated data broker sector to metastasize into a cancer on the American people. This is an industry that fuels stalkers, discriminatory financial and hiring algorithms, and an ad-tech sector that lets advertisers target categories like "teenagers with depression," "seniors with dementia" and "armed service personnel with gambling addictions."

When the people cry out for privacy protections, Congress – and the surveillance industry shills that fund them – say we don't need a privacy law. The market will solve this problem. People are selling their privacy willingly, and it would be an "undue interference in the market" if we took away your "freedom to contract" by barring companies from spying on you after you clicked the "I agree" button.

These people have been repeatedly warned about the severe dangers to the American public – as workers, as citizens, as community members, and as consumers – from the national privacy free-for-all, and have done nothing. Fuck them, every one:

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

Now, even a stopped clock is right twice a day, and not every one of Bill Clinton's internet policies was terrible. He had exactly one great policy, and, ironically, that's the one there's the most energy for dismantling. That policy is Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act (a law that was otherwise such a dumpster fire that the courts struck it down). Chances are, you have been systematically misled about the history, use, and language of Section 230, which is wild, because it's exactly 26 words long and fits in a single tweet:

No provider or user of an interactive computer service shall be treated as the publisher or speaker of any information provided by another information content provider.

Section 230 was passed because when companies were held liable for their users' speech, they "solved" this problem by just blocking every controversial thing a user said. Without Section 230, there would be no Black Lives Matter, no #MeToo – no online spaces where the powerful were held to account. Meanwhile, rich and powerful people would continue to enjoy online platforms where they and their bootlickers could pump out the most grotesque nonsense imaginable, either because they owned those platforms (ahem, Twitter and Truth Social) or because rich and powerful people can afford the professional advice needed to navigate the content-moderation bureaucracies of large systems.

We know exactly what the internet looks like when platforms are civilly liable for their users' speech: it's an internet where marginalized and powerless people are silenced, and where the people who've got a boot on their throats are the only voices you can hear:

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

The evidence for this isn't limited to the era of AOL and Prodigy. In 2018, Trump signed SESTA/FOSTA, a law that held platforms liable for "sex trafficking." Advocates for this law – like Ashton Kutcher, who campaigns against sexual assault unless it involves one of his friends, in which case he petitions the judge for leniency – were warned that it would be used to shut down all consensual sex work online, making sex workers's lives much more dangerous. This warnings were immediately borne out, and they have been repeatedly borne out every month since. Killing CDA 230 for sex work brought back pimping, exposed sex workers to grave threats to their personal safety, and made them much poorer:

https://decriminalizesex.work/advocacy/sesta-fosta/what-is-sesta-fosta/

It also pushed sex trafficking and other nonconsensual sex into privateforums that are much harder for law enforcement to monitor and intervene in, making it that much harder to catch sex traffickers:

https://cdt.org/insights/its-all-downsides-hybrid-fosta-sesta-hinders-law-enforcement-hurts-victims-and-speakers/

This is exactly what SESTA/FOSTA's advocates were warned of. They were warned. They did it anyway. Fuck those people.

Maybe you have a theory about how platforms can be held civilly liable for their users' speech without harming marginalized people in exactly the way that SESTA/FOSTA, it had better amount to more than "platforms are evil monopolists and CDA 230 makes their lives easier." Yes, they're evil monopolists. Yes, 230 makes their lives easier. But without 230, small forums – private message boards, Mastodon servers, Bluesky, etc – couldn't possibly operate.

There's a reason Mark Zuckerberg wants to kill CDA 230, and it's not because he wants to send Facebook to the digital graveyard. Zuck knows that FB can operate in a post-230 world by automating the deletion of all controversial speech, and he knows that small services that might "disrupt" Facebook's hegemony would be immediately extinguished by eliminating 230:

https://www.nbcnews.com/tech/tech-news/zuckerberg-calls-changes-techs-section-230-protections-rcna486

It's depressing to see so many comrades in the fight against Big Tech getting suckered into carrying water for Zuck, demanding the eradication of CDA 230. Please, I beg you: look at the evidence for what happens when you remove that fence. Heed the warnings. Don't be like Bill Clinton, or California fire suppression officials, or James Moore and Tony Clement, or the European Parliament, or the US Trade Rep, or cryptocurrency freaks, or Malcolm Turnbull.

Or Ashton fucking Kutcher.

Because, you know, fuck those guys.

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

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

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/13/wanting-it-badly/#is-not-enough

[frownyalfred]

clark’s first attempt to interview the prince of arkham go about as well as you might expect, given that he’s a reporter with sunshine all but seeping out of his pores. the first time bruce doesn’t even talk to him, too furious at the gall of this metropolitan newshound to interrogate him for the sake of some gruesome, sensationalist op-ed obviously about the tragedy of the family wayne and the irredeemable mire of gotham to do anything more than death-glare at him for the entire length of the meeting. but clark, unsatisfyingly, doesn’t give up after that. if bruce doesn’t talk to him, he sure talks to bruce, and with each subsequent interview the questions���change. no longer trying to establish facts about bruce’s life or his crimes, not asking about his experience in arkham, not even going for the low-hanging fruit of why’d you train for years to kill those people, but seemingly random and unrelated things. he wants bruce’s opinions on emissions policies (need to be stricter and more tightly enforced, especially in gotham, jesus, there’s a reason lung cancer and asthma rates are through the roof) and lex luthor’s keynote speeches (unprintable, wiped from clark’s tape recorder in case luthor somehow finds out) and whether or not clark should buy a new suit (why bother, it won’t be any less tragic than every other polyester abomination he cruelly forces bruce to look at every time he stops by). clark slowly and stubbornly makes himself as much a part of bruce’s routine as visits with alfred and lucius and the doctors, and all the while superman is playing a high-stakes game of mental chess with the sinking suspicion that bruce wayne has already won in more ways than one

bruce figures out kent is superman about three hours after the first time big blue gets namedropped during an interview. he commences with a plan that is part honeypot, part campaign of psychological warfare, and part genuine bid to get this midwestern alien who holds the safety of his city in his hands to try and give a damn like a proper gothamite would, like no one but bruce ever seems to. superman is wrong for gotham, bruce knows it, and gotham rejects superman (not even the weather there accepts him, all rain and fog and darkness with maybe one month of sun a year, but you can’t have shit in new jersey), but fuck it, he is trying. if nothing else, hours sitting in a room with this ridiculous well-intentioned man and a couple armed guards have bruce reluctantly convinced that superman is trying. and if all he asks in return is that bruce sometimes throw him a bone to save everyone else, well. it’s arkham. it’s not like bruce has anything better to do than un-fuck whatever clark and his merry band of spandex-clad morons have run up against this time

(depending on whether or not bruce was active as batman before getting caught or simply never bothered with batman to begin with, he could have a safe leg to stand on to call all the capes and costumes and underwear-on-the-outside stupid as fuck, preferably to clark’s face, preferably while maintaining the facade that he has no idea superman even has a civilian identity. smug passive-aggression, thy name is brucie, prince of arkham)

The only reason Bruce talks to Clark is that he slips up just a little that first meeting — says something about Metropolis and the people of that city. And Bruce sees that same glimmer of possessiveness, that need to better his city, reflected back at him. And he knows that Clark Kent is more than he appears to be.

[keferon]

Please use this ask as an excuse to rant about Mirage I love him but he’s so underutilized and it drives me crazy

YOU SEE watching him is so fucking frustrating because he has SO MUCH potential! When I first learned about his existence I thought I found another fav because the Mirage from the fics? He had it all. He was smart and creative and had this fun to look at snarky attitude of a wealthy bastard. This + unique design and the fact that he’s a speedster - He was just my type.

But then I went to look at him in canon and. Mirage in canon tastes like tofu. He tastes like fucking nothing???

The potential is there but the writers never do anything with it. Like. They don’t make the effort to include him and what he can do into the story. Imagine watching smth like Justice League but Superman does almost nothing and uses his laser eyes only once to impress his friends?? Like what is this??

Mirage can go invisible - okay cool.

Make him spy on Cons.

Make him set traps.

Make him slip poison into Megatron’s drink IDFK

Make him sneak into your enemy’s base to steal information

or free their prisoners

or download a virus into their computers?

Make him cut wires inside Megs’ space bridge

make him change information in their system

make him shower in their bathrooms he is invisible HE COULD LITERALLY LIVE THERE

And it’s only just invisibility. Even if he couldn’t do anything else. Invisibility is already SO interesting to play with. But instead all we have is him showing off his cool abilities and then fighting his enemies….with a gun…sincerely bruh

[ditzydoe444]

MDNI 18+

panty stealing perv jason around puppy! reader ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

perv!jason x puppy!reader

smutty

a/n: this may possibly be part 1 bc i wanna have them FUCK but lmk

jason todd didn’t have much of a social life, working away in the garage with nothing but his own thoughts was slowly driving him insane. one day, he came back from the garage and saw a moving truck outside the house next door. he knew new neighbors were coming, but he didn't expect it to happen so soon.

not that it mattered anyways, he didn’t even socialise with anyone.

next morning when he was making his early cup of coffee the doorbell rang, who could it possibly be? there was no one that cared enough about him to visit him at his own house. when he opened the front door he was met with a giant beaming smile. a younger girl, her eyes staring at him expectantly as she held out a tray of cookies.

“for my new neighbour,” she spoke happily, her smile as sweet as the scent of the cookies under his nostrils. “i don’t eat cookies,” jason grumbled, preparing to close the door on her until her foot stopped it.

“come on, it’s delicious, i baked it myself,” she grinned placing the tray even closer to him. it was very clear that she never heard the word ‘no’ through her actions of acting like a little pestering puppy. jason grabbed the tray before slamming the door in her face.

later that night jason was preparing to sleep early due to heavy work at the garage. the last thing he expected to see was you changing right in front of your window, curtains open. clearly, you were unaware of your current situation, stripping down from your mini dress where you were only in your tiny baby pink bra and panties. jason knew it was wrong to stare, god he probably looked like a pervert right now, and his thoughts further reinforced that.

he admired the soft delicate curves on your body, wondering how it would feel under his calloused hands. everything stopped the moment you removed your bra and panties before walking to the bathroom door. jason tried his best to not feel guilty about the whole situation, though the strain in his pants didn’t help the situation.

next day he left his house as early as he could to avoid you from knocking on his door again, despite his guilt his mind was constantly replying to what he saw from the window. though jason couldn’t even make it to the truck before he heard your voice calling out.

“hey!” you beamed skipping towards his truck in the driveway, wearing the tiniest two-piece pyjama set he as ever seen in his life. jason groaned, this was exactly what he didn’t want to happen.

“heard you are a mechanic and like to fix things,” she smiled, completely unaware of the effect she had on him. jason raised his brow, “what do you need that has to be fixed” his arms crossed around his chest and he swore he saw her checking his muscles out.

“my drawer broke during the moving process, so i got a new one but i don’t know how to build it.” it was a bad idea, a really really, bad idea. going to her house, let alone her bedroom after last night was something he shouldn’t do, but yet he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

“sure.”

**

it was going well, for the most part, building furniture was like child's play for jason, which was why he had finished the drawer pretty quickly. however, she insisted that she baked him something to eat as a ‘thank you’, despite jason’s protest it became pretty clear she always got what she wanted. trying to stay away from her jason offered to help build her other furniture after seeing all of the boxes in her room. he started to build her vanity, quickly working on placing it together.

however, one thing caught his attention. in the pile of clothes she had dumped he saw the same baby pink panties slightly hidden by the pile of other clothes, anyone else would’ve overlooked it but he couldn’t.

“jay! cookies are ready!” her voice breaking him out of his trance. he knew he shouldn’t, it was wrong, so goddamn wrong. before he could even think rationally he took the flimsy piece of fabric and shoved it into his back pocket.

he felt guilty, you were so blissfully unaware as you rambled on about the moving situation, jason’s mind clearly not listening as he thought about the fabric in his back pocket. “i should go,” he grumbled standing up, you pouted at how quickly he wanted to leave.

“you sure? you can stay for dinner,” you smiled in an attempt to brighten the mood. jason didn’t care, already making his way to the front door. “no, it’s all good. thanks for the cookies.”

you quickly followed him, your bare feet padding down the hallway. “wait! at least take the cookies with you,” you pouted as your hands held out the tray. “it’s fine, really.”

did he hate you that much?

**

answer is no. jason was currently jerking off with your panty, the fabric covering his dick as he strokes it with his hand. “f-fuck,” he groaned as his head falls back on the pillow, his eyes shut. the material was soft, he wondered what it would feel like to have him rubbing his cock against your clothed cunt, maybe you would be so soaked that he could basically see the whole damn thing.

he wasn’t a saint when he went to your house even after stealing your panty, the way his eyes focused on your ass when you pranced around shorts that were so short leaving your cheeks exposed. he watched as you squeezed the syrup sauce on your drink. the way you frowned when you squeezed it and nothing came out, so you decided you point the nuzzle toward you, as you inspected it and squeezed it. once it finally worked, the thick sugary syrup squirting on your cheek slightly he wondered how you would react if it was his come painting your pretty little face when you sucked him off.

would you have giggled as you did with the syrup? grabbing the sugary liquid off your face with your finger before sucking it off with a ‘pop’?

god he didn’t even want to talk about how your tits shook when you pumped the syrup out. the tight shirt with no bra meant he saw every little movement. the way they moved with your hands as you shook the bottle.

as much as he didn’t want to admit it, you following him around as a little lost puppy was adorable. you were so obedient when he had asked for extra syrup on his drink purely because he wanted to see your tits move as you shook the bottle you were eager to comply. he was pretty damn sure that if he asked you to ride his boot you would with no hesitation.

the moment he had returned to his room he sniffed the material that was shoved in his back pocket, it was wrong, so wrong but he couldn’t stop. maybe if he stole all of your panties you would just prance around with your bare cunt. if he went by to your house to help with the remaining furniture and you were so dutifully adorable by baking him something sweet, he might catch a glimpse of your bare cunt bent over the kitchen bench as you baked. he also didn’t miss the way your tits were pushed together when you squeezed the icing on the cupcake you were baking for a party, he wondered what it would be like to hold them in his hands.

it wasn’t long before he came on your panty, his thick liquid spilling out tainting the material. god he was done for.

[kafrcknboombaby]

neighbors

setting: reader's room shares a wall with ghost's in the barracks.

ghost can't stand that he can hear you changing into your pajamas, but yet you're never kind enough to let him see you in those tiny shorts and t-shirt.

so he pulls the fire alarm.

everyone in the building is outside behind the barracks and ghost finally catches sight of you.

you're seething. the fire alarm has never been pulled before and its way to chilly out to be in whatever you're not wearing this evening, so you resort to clutching your arms over your chest and gently bouncing your knees, the annoyed glare at nothing in particular still on your face.

you all get the go-ahead to come back inside, ghost following your trail.

"cold out, is i-?" he asks, head nodding slightly down to your hard nipples poking through your light shirt.

embarrassment washes over you, followed swiftly by anger. you hike up the stairs, ghost hot on your heels.

he reaches his door before you get to yours.

"don't make me file a fucking report on you, ghost."

as you reach for the knob of your door, you hear him chuckle to himself and your head whips around at him. he slowly turns to you, his tall presence looming and dark eyes zeroing in on yours.

"i handle those reports, sarge." and you swore you almost saw him smile underneath his mask.

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

15 minutes later you're in bed trying to fall asleep. one side of your brain trying to decode your interaction earlier and the other part fixated on the pure heat between your legs.

your vibrator turns on a moment later. jesus, wet already? this won't take long.

your mind fogs immediately as you recall the way ghost motioned down to your tits earlier, not to mention that he'd be the one to read your report. what kind of a comment was that, by the way? does he want you to file one? to read your memories of how he lingered on your body for a little too long earlier? to recall how he knew you could read his filthy, desperate thoughts?

"i'll file that fucking report," you exhale as the deep churning in your stomach begins to intensify.

i'll cum on it first, too, you thought.

and meanwhile, ghost's cock just twitched when he heard that, jaw clenched while his hand gently squeezes at his base.

jesus fucking christ, he needed you to drop that off in-person. show up at his door, that look on your face again, just so he could drag you inside his room, lock you in and toss you on his bed. immediately climbing on top of you with your ankles on his shoulders. bulge in his pants so tight he asks you to please please please unbutton and unzip them to give him some relief before lifting your hips and sliding yours off.

then ghost let a moan slip.

a big one -- too big.

you heard it and your vibrator switched off, which frightened ghost to fucking death. you perked your ears and listened. was that... labored breathing?

"ah-em," you cleared your throat in an obviously coaxing tone.

that was all it took for ghost to come barreling out of bed, which, in turn, made you toss your toy and bounce up to unlock your door.

the fucking look in his eyes when you opened it -- pure hunger.

there weren't enough hours in the night for what he wanted with you.

good thing you're neighbors.

[thehoneybeestings]

Sevika w/ a Partner who has PMDD

Word count: 2.8k

Content/Warnings: afab reader (no pronouns used), descriptions of PMDD and its symptoms, sevika gets a gnarly wound but nothing graphic, slightly suggestive (for one sentence), acts of service is sooo sevika's love language, this ended up being way longer than your average headcanon i got carried away i'm sorry!

A/N: Naturally, my very first post is completely and utterly self-indulgent… I suffer from PMDD and decided one day amid my demise that I wanted some sevika comfort! So here you are, and I hope you enjoy and that this serves as a bit of escape from whatever may be giving you a hard time (and that if you're a fellow PMDD sufferer, you remember to be extra gentle with yourself when you're feeling low. You've got this! You're a superhero in my book!). 

Love, Bee ୨ৎ

୨ৎ Sevika knows that you have PMDD before you tell her

୨ৎ In fact, she knows before you two are even considered friends, nevertheless together

୨ৎ Sevika is extremely receptive; it's practically her job to be

୨ৎ Being Silco's second-hand puts her in charge of everyone out on the field, and she is constantly gauging the team's strengths and weaknesses so that she can ensure operations are always running as smoothly as possible

୨ৎSo it goes without saying that when you start working for Silco as an assassin, it doesn't take her long to familiarize herself with the way your disposition ebbs and flows, and seemingly, at the same time every month

୨ৎ This isn't to say that your performance suffers at all- certainly not; you're one of the team's most skilled assassins, and you've always made sure that your disorder doesn't impact your work

୨ৎ But again, it's Sevika's job to be receptive

୨ৎ She first puts together that around the 6th of every month, you come in looking particularly exhausted

୨ৎ Dark circles can be seen under your heavy eyes, and your feet never seem to stop dragging no matter how many cups of coffee you nurse; and during this time, it's an excessive amount

୨ৎ She also notices that during this time period- which usually lasts about 10 days- your fuse is extremely short

୨ৎ When Ran comes up to tease you at the coffee machine about how "you look like you haven't slept in five years", you turn to give them a look that even she can admit is terrifying

୨ৎ "Yeah?" you begin, cocking an eyebrow at them, “I've got boiling hot coffee in my fucking hand right now, Ran.”

୨ৎ They're quick to throw their hands up in surrender and back away, making the (correct) decision to quit poking the bear

୨ৎ Sevika can't help but crack an amused smile at the interaction from her place across the room

୨ৎ She also can't help but notice that for some reason, you stress to no end about missions that would otherwise be a cakewalk for you during those 10 days

୨ৎ Again, your work never suffers for it, but Sevika knows you're suffering for it

୨ৎ So, she decides that your skills would be better put to use elsewhere for that period of time; and she convinces herself that it isn't an act of kindness, but simply a necessity for the team to perform at its best.

୨ৎ One day, she pulls you into Silco's office to "discuss a change in your involvement on the field," and needless to say, you're shitting yourself

୨ৎ You stand across from her, your heart in your stomach and your hands tucked into your back pockets, because you know if you have access to them, you'll just start biting your fingernails off

୨ৎ "The 6th through the 16th of every month," she begins, sitting on the edge of Silco's desk, “I want you here instead of on the field. No special missions then either, got it?”

୨ৎ At first, your eyebrows knit together in confusion

୨ৎ "The 6th through the...?" You ponder- mostly to yourself- before it hits you like a ton of bricks what those dates are

୨ৎ "Shit, I-I'm so sorry, I can explain; it's just-"

୨ৎ "Woah, woah; slow down," Sevika interrupts, her hand shooting out to signal you to stop, “I didn't say you had anything to explain, and I certainly didn't say you had anything to apologize for.” 

୨ৎ A wave of relief washes over you, but the confusion remains. What was this about then, if not a decrease in performance?

୨ৎ Sevika reads the confusion on your face and begins to answer your unspoken question: “You're always great out there; but on those days, for whatever reason, I can tell it comes at a cost. So from now on, you won't be out there at all when those days roll around. Can't have my best assassin burnt out; it's not an option.”

୨ৎ She casually shrugs with the last part of her explanation as if she hadn't just demonstrated attentiveness and consideration unlike you'd ever experienced

୨ৎ And you're left speechless at the gesture

୨ৎ You only realize your jaw is on the floor when she clears her throat, an amused smirk playing on her lips

୨ৎ "U-Um, sorry," you stutter, shaking your head in an attempt to snap yourself out of the shock, "I, uh... yeah, I do have a harder time then. I didn't know you'd noticed..."

୨ৎ "Pfft," she scoffs, kicking off of the desk to make her way toward a stack of papers on the chaise next to Silco's desk, "When I have ever not noticed something?"

୨ৎ She should have put her foot in her mouth then and there, because she sure didn't notice the massive fucking crush you'd soon start to develop on her

୨ৎ And it sure would've made things a lot easier if she had, because she was falling for you just as quickly

୨ৎ In the coming months, Sevika had made a point to start checking in on you when the 6th rolled around, and you found that when she wasn't on the field, she was lingering near the desk she'd set up for you to take your place at during your hard weeks

୨ৎ You'd come in looking especially tired one morning- in fact, your eyes were swollen and red like you'd just been crying- and her eyes were on you like a hawk as you trudged over to the desk, slumped into the chair, and ran a hand through your hair before getting started on the paperwork Silco had assigned to you for the week.

୨ৎ "Rough morning?" She inquired, concern written all over her face

୨ৎ You let out a dry chuckle, recalling the 3 hours of sleep you'd gotten the night before, the orange juice you'd spilled all over your white shirt this morning, and the breakfast you couldn't eat because you were sure that any minute you were going to throw up

୨ৎ Rough morning didn't come close to cutting it

୨ৎ Your eyes began to prick with tears before you could help it

୨ৎ "I'm so sick of this shit," you mumble, burying your head in your heads and pressing your palms into your eyelids

୨ৎ You hear her rummaging around, but pay it no mind until she sets something down in front of you

୨ৎ You move your hands away from your face to see a hot drink in front of you; not coffee, but

୨ৎ "Tea?" You ask, your voice small

୨ৎ " 's better for you than coffee," Sevika shrugs, pulling up a chair to sit in front of the desk

୨ৎ She stares intently at you for a few moments, before finally asking the question she'd been mulling over" So, by this shit, you mean..."

୨ৎ "Oh," you chuckle, "Yeah, I guess I never did explain what my problem is..."

୨ৎ You then go on to explain to Sevika what PMDD is, and what a pain in the ass it can be. She listens attentively, her eyes trained on the paperwork in front of you as you explain the insomnia and the fatigue, the anxiety and the overwhelm, the insecurity and the hopelessness; everything that you have the pleasure of dealing with on a regular basis

୨ৎ "Janna," she replies, rubbing her temples. "And you deal with this shit every month?"

୨ৎ "Like clockwork," you reply.

୨ৎ "Yeah, you're a badass for that."

୨ৎ You let out a loud laugh, and a strange sense of relief floods her system

୨ৎ "Wish I felt more like one, but when something as small as spilling orange juice on my shirt makes me wanna jump out of the nearest window... the last thing I feel like is a badass."

୨ৎ Sevika chuckles at this before giving a nod towards your tea; "Should've gotten you coffee, huh?"

୨ৎ "Oh, no!" you're quick to correct, "Just super nauseous today... probably won't be able to stomach anything until dinner time, and that's if I'm lucky."

୨ৎ Sevika's eyes widen, and she would've demanded that you try your best to eat something before then if it weren't for Jinx barging in to announce that she needed Sevika's help "cleaning up a little mess."

୨ৎ (The "mess" was enforcers chasing her down because she'd decided they were the perfect target for testing out her new paintball gun. "you said I should try out less violent forms of self-expression!" she'd say to Sevika...)

୨ৎ She doesn't forget your conversation, though, and you're snapped out of your shitty reality tv binge-watching session by a knock on your apartment door later that evening

୨ৎ Much to your surprise, it's Sevika

୨ৎ With take-out in hand...?

୨ৎ "You can't go all day without eating," she says, sternly.

୨ৎ You laugh incredulously at the fact that she even remembered your offhand mention of not being able to eat, and at the fact that she'd taken it upon herself to show up to your place to do something about it, but open the door wider and step aside to let her in anyway

୨ৎ You don't miss the quick scan she does of your apartment- littered with trinkets and decorations you'd picked up here and there- and the way her face seems to soften in endearment; of course, only for a split second, before she's back to business

୨ৎ "This is the only thing I can keep down when I'm not feeling well," she deadpans, unpacking the plastic bag and placing a large styrofoam cup on your kitchen counter, "Figured it'd be worth a shot to drop some off if it meant you might be able to stomach something today."

୨ৎ "Sevika... you didn't have to go to all this trouble," you say, walking over to meet her at the counter

୨ৎ She just shrugs, of course. "I know. Where are your bowls?"

୨ৎ And so, here you both were, sharing a bowl of warm chicken noodle soup, trying to ignore how whipped you both were for each other

୨ৎ You'd managed to convince her to join you in your reality tv binge-watching session, and despite how annoyed she was pretending to be, you'd gone through three 45-minute episodes already and she still hadn't left

୨ৎ At one point, she'd even forgotten to keep up the disinterested act: "What? Why would she pick Sarah over Lily, they have zero chemistry!"

୨ৎ You'd just quirk an eyebrow at her exclamation, staring her down with a smirk until she finally admitted, "Yeah, yeah, whatever- you got me."

୨ৎ And you'd giggle, and her heart would clench, and she'd get way freaked out, and suddenly,

୨ৎ “Shit. I've gotta go. No doubt the kid has already gotten herself into something else…"

୨ৎ You'd just nod, trying your best to conceal the disappointment you felt as you sent her off.

୨ৎ "Hey," you'd call out softly, just as she was turning to leave, "Thank you. Seriously... this was really helpful. You made my night."

୨ৎ Don't say that, she'd think, not unless you want me to start coming home to you.

୨ৎ " 's no big deal. Just looking out. Night, Y/N."

୨ৎ "G'night, Sevika," you'd smile.

୨ৎ And it'd be another three months before either of you had the guts to confess your feelings

୨ৎ But one night, you're waiting for her to show up to your door, take-out in hand- like she'd taken to doing every month from the 6th to the 16th since the first time she came over; and when she doesn't, there's a pit in your stomach that tells you it isn't simply because she forgot

୨ৎ With emotions already high, you're quick to assume the worst as you throw on some sweatpants, a crewneck, and your sneakers before racing down to the only other place she'd be on a Friday night

୨ৎ You walk up to the bartender on duty at The Last Drop, not bothering to conceal the worry in your voice as you ask if he'd seen Sevika around tonight

୨ৎ "Just went upstairs to Silco's office. Rough mission, must've been. She'll have a pretty scar, that's for sure."

୨ৎ You don't respond; you just dash up the stairs with wide eyes, not bothering to knock before bursting into the office, and sighing in relief at the sight of the grey eyes shooting up to meet your own

୨ৎ But when your eyes catch the deep cut trailing down her tricep and the mess of bloody rags in front of her, you find that your relief is short-lived

୨ৎ "What the hell?!" you'd exclaim, rushing over to help, "Why didn't you call me? I was worried sick about you!"

୨ৎ You were worried about her? Her cheeks would flush, and she'd thank Janna you were too focused on bandaging her arm up to notice

୨ৎ "You don't gotta help me with this shit," she'd protest

୨ৎ "Says the one who feeds me every night my hormones are fucking raging. Like hell I don't have to help, and you fail to consider that maybe I want to."

୨ৎ You're stressed, your adrenaline is pumping, and you've had a killer headache all day, so your words come out harsher than you mean for them to. "I'm sorry," you'd sigh, "I'm not mad at you at all, I'm just-"

୨ৎ You look up to find her smiling down at you, and your heart skips a beat, and you thank your lucky stars she breaks the silence, because you'd completely forgotten what the rest of your sentence was going to be

୨ৎ "Really didn't like this being my first stop after work," she admits, and you don't know why she suddenly sounds so... timid

୨ৎ "I mean... yeah, having to patch yourself up after a mission is never any fun-"

୨ৎ "No, Y/N," she begins, and your eyes shoot up to meet her at the sound of your name on her lips, "I mean... I mean I didn't like that my first stop wasn't you."

୨ৎ And just like it was the last time you'd spoken to her in this office, your heart was in your stomach

୨ৎ "What, you mean you wanted to come home to me or something?" you chuckle nervously, because there's no way in hell that's what she meant

୨ৎ "Yeah, that is what I mean."

୨ৎ Oh.

୨ৎ "You opposed to that or somethin'?"

୨ৎ Absolutely fucking not, says the kiss that you plant on her lips

୨ৎ and the legs thrown over her shoulders later that night (oops)

୨ৎ And now, you thank Janna for the steady presence in your life that is Sevika; especially when you're feeling unsteady

୨ৎ Of course, your symptoms don't just disappear, but it's sure as hell nice to have the support when they make themselves known

୨ৎ When you wake up on the 6th, exhausted and with zero interest in doing anything but laying in bed all day, she'll get the shower running nice and warm, leave a comfy outfit on the counter, and promise that she'll have tea ready when you're done.

୨ৎ She puts herself in charge of meals for the next 10 days, because she knows that your lack of appetite plus your general lack of motivation and energy means you won't end up eating enough if she doesn't make you

୨ৎ When your emotions are high, she's your rock

୨ৎ if you're starting to tear up because you've tried on four outfits already and you "look too bloated in all of them," she'll take your face in her hands, ask you to take a deep breath, and place a kiss on your forehead, reminding you that everything feels a lot bigger than usual right now, and that the only thing you need to worry about is feeling comfortable

୨ৎ If you're getting frustrated because you can't find your damn coat, and your favorite food truck is only in town for another hour, and you snap at her because she dares to suggest that you do, in fact, have other coats, she'll look at you, take a deep breath of her own, and say,

୨ৎ "Okay, baby; what can I do to help?"

୨ৎ And your heart will break, because how is she so good?

୨ৎ You'll apologize-because you always do when you know your emotions got the better of you- and she'll wrap you in a bear hug, and you'll realize that was what you really needed; not your red coat

୨ৎ And you'll make it to the food truck in the nick of time, and you'll probably tear up when you take your first bite, because damn, this cheesesteak is the best thing I've ever tasted, and damn, I don't know what I did to deserve her.

End ୨ৎ

[immortalmrwavell]

Wavell’s Vacation 1

(Original story posted August 23rd 2022) This story has received mild edits and corrections

Read the Origin of Mr Wavell here!

It’d been quite some time since I first took this body as my own and adopted the name Mr Wavell. I’ve gotta say though, with my full power finally within my grasp along with a hot dilf body to go with it, it’s easily been the best years of my life. Swapping men left and right. Transforming their bodies. Giving them the means to possess each over. I’ve made hunky dads trade bodies with their jock sons. I’ve forced skinny twinks to grow into thick hairy bears. I’ve enabled lowly workers the chance to possess or swap bodies with their powerful bosses. Even allowing women to transform themselves into hot beefy studs. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

As much as I love my ‘job’ however, I thought it’d be good to take a short break. A holiday of sorts. You see as much as I mess around with the bodies of other men, I don’t really change my own that much. Part of that is due to the fact that I can’t transform myself without risking my health. I took this form and absorbed its mind into my own because it was compatible with my power but if I mess around with it then I fear that may no longer be the case. That said I can still possess others…

Once again however possession is a bit tricky. Not so much for me but more for the person I’m inhabiting. Most people’s bodies aren’t built to contain the insane amount of raw magical power I possess. All this means really is that I can’t be inside one body for longer than about a week. Any more and it will start to have some heavy adverse effects on my host. Because of this I don’t often bother possessing people. I liked my body after all so I don’t really feel much of a need. But I suppose if I’m going on a vacation I might as well go the full mile right?

With that in mind I’d decided to take on three different incredibly hot men for a week each.

Week 1

For my first target I wanted to go big. A man who was not only hot but also well known and beloved by many. There were a bunch of different industries that contained men like this. A big one being the TV and Film industry with all its sexy actors and another being the sports industry with its wide array of hunky athletes. After some thought I decided to go with the latter. And what better sport to cherry pick a hunky body from than good ol’ American Football. I might’ve been English myself, or at least my host was, but I could never deny myself the delight of American athletes.

Initially I considered going for someone more current who was still very active in the sport today. That is until I was hanging around and observing some football fans. They mentioned the name of a certain retired player that caught my ear immediately. Tim Tebow. Yes I’d heard of him. He was a handsome fucker if I remembered correctly. And once his name was in my head I just couldn’t get it out. That’s when I knew what body I’d be taking first.

It didn’t take long for me to find the Ex-player’s house and luckily for me he was completely home alone. I found him just outside his house talking to some neighbours. Fuck did he look delicious right now wearing that tight navy shirt and those fitted jeans. Oh I just couldn’t wait to jump inside!

I waited around for awhile until he finished talking to those neighbours. I didn’t want to make a scene after all. Not that I wasn’t tempted. Thankfully though it wasn’t long until he was waving goodbye and heading back into his own garden. Practically the second that Tim was out of sight from anyone else, I made my move.

Watching as he stretched his arms and yawned, I couldn’t help but smirk. If that wasn’t an invitation then I don’t know what was. I wasted no time diving my ghostly body head first into his open mouth. Tim’s eyes went wide as suddenly he couldn’t close his mouth while my invisible form forced itself down his throat. There was nothing he could do as my being slipped inside with ease despite his attempts to somehow stop me and pull me out. Before long the last of my form pushed its way down his throat and settled inside.

I didn’t take immediate control. Instead i left him to freak out for a moment in wonder of what the fuck had just happened. Only then did I start to flow some of my energy into his limbs starting with his legs and feet. Suddenly Tim found himself walking against his will towards his house with me as his puppet master. Due to his upper body freaking out we almost fell a few times leading to me taking control of his back as well to keep us upright.

Before long I’d managed to walk us up to his door where I took control of his right arm to let us inside. Tim began to panic more as he lost further control of his body. Soon enough we made it to his bathroom where we looked into the reflection. I took control of the rest of his torso along with his left arm and neck so I could begin flexing a little show off.

“AGHH Stop! Stop please!” Tim begged without even knowing who he was pleading to. “What’s happening to me?!” He wailed.

Just then Tim’s expression switched from worry and panic to calm and devious. “I’m taking your body for spin, that’s what’s happening.” I said using his own voice.

His face returns to its prior worried expression. “W-what! No! Why did I?… Oooooahhhh…” Tim began to groan out as I finally took control of his cock and balls, flooding them with my raw sexual energy as the bulge in our jeans grew substantially. “Noooooo… Get out of my… body!” Tim grunted as his cock began to pulse rapidly until…

“Ooh… FUUUUuuuuuuuucckkk!” I moaned out as I forced us to blow a massive load, soaking the inside of these well fitted jeans. After a short cool down, I groped my wet, sticky bulge a little before announcing “Sorry my man, no can do. For the next week I’m gonna be the new Tim Tebow..” A grin broke out across my stolen face as I claimed it. I could feel Tim panicking from within but there was nothing he could do now. I was in the driver's seat.

After that I jumped in the shower to get a proper look at the ex football player body I now owned. Tim had clearly made sure to himself in marvellous shape with these juicy pecs and sizeable arms. Can’t say I wasn’t happy to be groping it all from the inside. And all the strength it contained was exhilarating. Sure I had immense magical power but the physical power this form held was a whole different ball game.

Once I was done I stepped out, got dried and began raiding Tim’s closet. After all, as fun as it would be, I couldn't be seen wearing those cum-stained jeans. I didn’t want to completely tarnish his image after all. What would be the point in that?

After that I tried live the week to it’s fullest. I must’ve tried on almost every outfit Tim owned (which was many) and loved seeing how each item was perfectly tailored to his body. I would’ve had to use magic to resize most of this to my regular body but now it stretched over my new muscle in all the right places to show off. Of course I had fun in many other ways too though. One of which was tapping into Tim’s memories and personality to trick his family, friends and fans into believing that I really was him! Such a rush I gotta tell ya. I mean I’ve done this very thing to so many other men, allowing them to possess or switch bodies with the man they desire but doing it myself is just a different kind of pleasure.

I’ve gotta say though one of my favourite parts was sneaking out during the evening and hooking up with some hot dudes. Needless to say they were more than surprised to see the straight christian man Tim Tebow cheating on his wife for some hot gay sex but they certainly weren’t going to decline the opportunity. Had so many dudes pretty much salivating over the chance to wrap their lips around my celebrity cock or to press their faces into my jock ass. Each encounter went like a dream. For them and for me.

Unfortunately Tim’s wife did get suspicious eventually. She wondered why I wasn’t being as affectionate and why I was leaving the house so often. I was hoping I could get through the week without this but I didn’t want anyone to think something was up. And so what I ended up doing was digging into Tim’s subconscious and begrudgingly connecting myself to his heterosexuality. The second I did, I saw his wife in a whole new light.

Before long we were on the bed together, kissing and pulling off each overs clothes. Suddenly I can see why straight dudes are so fascinated with breasts, I couldn’t keep my hands off her jiggling tits. And before I knew it I’d plunged Tim’s cock into her pussy and started plowing away. I’m not gonna say it felt better than fucking a hot hairy ass but it still felt pretty damn good. I continued to fuck her like animal, making it as passionate as possible for *her sake*. What do I mean by her sake? Well during this I had a very fun idea that I was going to put into action later.

Soon enough I found myself unloading Tim’s balls inside her, filling her up in a horny haze. She looked satisfied and so was I. Once that was done I let out a sigh of relief and detached myself from Tim’s heterosexuality. Being a straight man was weird. I mean I didn’t hate it I suppose but it definitely wasn’t me. I was gay through and through and I wanted it to stay that way.

By this point I had two more days inside Tim’s flesh before I had to vacate so I was sure to make it count. Getting in as much delicious gay sex as I could inside this formerly straight christian body. I even had one guy with a fantasy of fucking me while wearing Tim’s old football gear. Thankfully he still had it stored away and it fit like a glove. Let’s just say by the end of that night there was a cock sized hole in the back of those football pants where my aching asshole had been fucked relentlessly and filled to the brim with cum.

Eventually however, my time came to an end and I had to leave this beautiful body. It was a fun ride while it lasted. I got to meet a bunch of Tim’s fans, loving how they reacted with such excitement upon seeing me. I got to live out the life of a well known celebrity. And most of all I got to pop this body’s homosexual cherry. Speaking off…

After I launched my soul back out through Tim’s mouth, I watched as he fell the ground unconscious. Of course I could’ve just left things like that but I just couldn’t help myself. I reached inside his mind and found his heterosexuality. After which I linked Tim’s mind up to a gay dude not far from here who had a bunch of Tim Tebow posters around his room. Then all I had to do was close my eyes and focus. Tim and this other miscellaneous gay man, who’s name was Nathan, had a surge of energy run through their bodies. And just like that, they had switched. Not bodies but rather they’d switched sexualities. When Tim awakens he’ll start to notice an absence of attraction to his wife and will soon start popping boners for hot dudes he sees either online or in real life. It’s certainly gonna be interesting to see if he remains faithful and tries to make it work with his wife or if he splits from her and embraces his new orientation.

On the other hand, I might have to check up on that Nathan dude at some point as well. Suddenly no longer being interested in dick and dude ass, instead finding himself with a craving for pussy and a fascination with tits. Oh I can only imagine how he’ll cope.

But for now I’m off to find my next body…

Read the Second Part here!

[cecizilla1]

Before someone sends a pipe bomb to my house, is it really that horrible and controversial to say that Jimmy was just as much of a victim failed by the same disgusting system as everyone else? While support from loved ones is important, he needed actual resources. We don’t know anything about him beyond that he was struggling, so all we can assume is that he couldn’t hold down a job that was definitely due to his severe mental health issues. There’s nothing wrong with being an advocate for a friend, but it’s incredibly irresponsible to put someone you know is unstable into a literal inescapable environment for MONTHS with people who don’t know what they’re getting into and ripping him away from the possibility of actual helpful resources like intense therapy, psychiatric counseling, and rehabilitation. This man needed to be surrounded by professional and community support systems, not a friend who dismisses everything he does because how is that productive at all? I don’t know, I just feel like so many people are avoiding this conversation because they believe they’re dismissing what he did by being empathetic in that way and it drives me up the fucking wall.

Although I’m not an obsessive, violent, sociopathic narcissist, it’s painful just dealing with being bipolar, past suicidal deviation, and comparing myself to my best friends who have accomplished way more than me while I’ve been struggling to even fill out one job application. The capitalist system we live in grinds us down to our bones that if we can’t climb up the social ladder, that if we can’t pick ourselves up from our lowest alone, we aren’t worth shit and are weak—which leads to people like Jimmy lashing out on everything and everyone to gain some sense of superiority.

As someone who is extremely passionate about how capitalism has completely obliterated what it means to be in a caring community because of its intrinsic suffocating individualism, its exploitation of the lower class, and how we are chained down to an unforgiving inherent debt for our whole lives, I just find it childish that so many people avoid thinking about this aspect of his character or completely override him from the story all together.

As much as I LOATH him, I can’t help but wonder what could’ve happened if he did get the help he needed. While it unfortunately blew up in Anya and Curly’s face because they were taken advantage of, is it that fucking horrible to believe that someone can grow and change if given the chance (as long as they obviously don’t hurt you in the process)? It’s the same reason why the prison system—especially the American prison industrial complex—should be abolished because how the fuck is locking someone up for the rest of their lives going to do anything for anybody in the long run? Obviously he needed to be brought to legal justice, but I believe that we should start at the core of why he is the way he is, what will be effective for everybody in the long run, and the possibility of him being reintroduced into society once he gets his mf shit together before people start pulling him this way and that (with boundaries ofc.) I’m a victim of sexual assault and emotional abuse myself, but I don’t want that person to rot behind bars. I just want to heal and move on. I don’t want revenge, I want closure. I want to be able to face that person and know that they won’t hurt anybody else if I am to believe that I myself can grow beyond what happened.

I know that many other creators have expressed the same sentiments already, but I needed to get that off my chest too.

Anyways, this game means so much to me because it touches on societal issues that I care about. Fuck capitalism and may everyone be free from this hell.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

born from another timeline - jayce, viktor

summary; "viktor, wake up, hexcore just dropped a hot person" - jayce, probably

genre/extra tags; oneshot, fluff, comedy, maybe some angst, is this considered isekai /j, amnesia?, zauntie! reader, different timeline! reader, the almost too good to be to be true timeline, hexcore knows everything, magic curses, can be seen as romantic or platonic, half baked ending, im sorry this can seen as ambiguous ending

word count; 1.3k

a/n; it's time for some silly silly writing. im changing up some of the request to be a little more interesting. im not great at interpreting long requests like this bc they can be a lot for me, and sometimes, with requesting in excitement, they can have some parts that dont make sense. but i still hope it's enjoyable. also i have no idea if my addition to this request made sense but i was too committed so. enjoy :)

you don't remember a fucking thing. all you know is that something called a hexcore spit you out, and now you're floating in the air with two really hot people. and you're undoubtedly panicking, and they're panicking too.

generally, a lot of panic.

when you finally manage to stop floating, the situation settles a little bit. at least for the two men that were floating with you.

"how did you get here?" but unfortunately, you had to be questioned. which was reasonable, you would probably do the same.

a yordle creature is trying to question you and your origins, but your mind can't seem to conjure up anything that would be a viable answer. "i.. don't know. but where exactly am i?"

the yordle, heimerdinger, informs you that you are in piltover and introduce you to viktor and jayce as well.

"piltover.. i definitely didn't know that this was piltover because i've never been around there."

"do you remember anything about your home?"

"not much. but i'm from the undercity." you answer. and that leaves the young scientists to ponder why exactly the hexcore brought you here. was it really that powerful to just teleport people from the undercity to piltover?

nothing seemed to be clicking. and so, they decide to escort you back to the dark lanes of the undercity.

but when you reach the bridge, viktor can spot the shine of confusion in your eyes.

"wait.. this is the undercity, right?" you looked over at the glum streets. "but.."

"but what? it always has been like this."

"this isn't.." you head pulses with pain as a memory tries to break through. "the undercity wasn't like this. it was-" before you can even speak about your home, it feels like you have the wind knocked out of you. your breath heaving as you cough near uncontrollably. jayce and viktor are quick to offer a hand to help you. jayce holds you steady, and viktor offers a hesitant but gentle hand. "it wasn't like this.." you can only mutter as another cough tickles your throat, threatening to come out. it doesn't take long for the two men to come up with a different thought instead.

"i don't think you're from our world." viktor said slowly.

"but i'm from runeterra, i live in zaun, i know that much." you get a little defensive. "and i know that, this isn't the zaun i live in."

"i think it's much more different than what v is saying. let's just head back."

viktor should've realized sooner as a zaunite himself. you didn't wear any worn-out dirtied clothing or had that scent of undercity smoke and gasoline that always permeated around the lanes. you were different from the undercity he knew.

with enough convincing to heimerdinger, he agrees to let you stay in piltover, but viktor and jayce would have to be responsible for you. which admittedly feels a little offending as you're not any kind of irresponsible pet or kid, but you wave off the annoyance for a more pressing problem.

"i'm from a different timeline?"

"it sounds crazy, i know." jayce immediately tells you, just seeing the incredulous look on your face. "but it seems like the most logical conclusion. you said you were from runeterra, you were from the undercity, and that the undercity you know doesn't look the way our undercity does."

"it could be entirely possible that you can even be from a different universe in general, ehh... i suppose that would be like a timeline, too." viktor sucked in a breath through his slightly clenched teeth as he tried to wonder over the details of what counted as a universe or timeline.

"the point is, this isn't the runeterra you know. and we don't know how to get you back."

and so you basically had a reset button on your life, now living in a world that was close to yours.. but not quite.

heimerdinger had concluded that there was some sort of magic binding on your memories, not allowing you to speak too much detail of them. and there seemed to be no loopholes for it. you would be stuck like that for an unknown amount of time.

that was concerning, to say the least. but not as concerning as trying to remember that this isn't the world you know. you're not meant to be here. but you'd be lying if you said that you weren't curious about how this world functioned compared to yours.

you were naturally really interested in the hextech. and it seemed like the hexcore was interested in you, it spit you out into here after all.

"do you think the hexcore is the reason i can't talk about my home?" you asked the two scientists as you stared at the core of magic and science.

"it would make sense. in a way. it's the only magic you've been exposed to. and directly in contact with.. obviously." viktor said with matter of fact tone.

it seemed like it was the only somewhat reasonable answer. and there was only one solution to you; live this new life. you don't remember everything that happened in your old life, and even if you did, you'd be coughing up your lungs before you can get a word out about it.

alternate reality and timelines really aren't fun, you realize quickly. you live in this.. new piltover and zaun and it's.. really off-putting. like knowing that everything is fine, but your mind is telling you that there's something just so wrong.

your identity blends in just enough with the support of viktor and jayce. but you don't feel right. viktor easily can sense that feeling of isolation. he understands it too well. it's the face he's seen on multiple zaunites like himself. when they don't know if they really belong in this world.

he tugs you away into his side of the lab as the gentle whirring of the hexcore hums with life, mocking you that you have no way home. jayce had left to pick up some dinner for you three, and you stayed behind for the sole reason of not having anything better to do (and maybe even keep viktor company).

the look in his sharp amber eyes is hesitant before he speaks. "how are you feeling?" he asked within the ambiance of the lab. he doesn't look at you, turning to mindlessly fiddle with his work-in-progress hex claw.

you shrugged halfheartedly with a hum, "i don't know. it just..." you let out a sigh. "it doesn't feel right."

"what doesn't?"

"being here." he lets you continue if you want, stopping his tinkering to look at you. your eyebrows furrow with a frown on your lips. "i don't know. maybe i'm just being delusional."

he pursues his lips, trying to find the right words to say. "i'm sorry we can't find a way back to your home." he said softly. "i can't imagine how it feels like to live in a world so similar but so different from home." he takes your wrist gently to guide you to an empty chair next to him.

you sit down slowly. he looks at your disheartened face.

"i'm not great at comfort like this. jayce would probably do much better than me right now. he gives a great hug." he laughed weakly, trying to lighten the mood. "but i'm not going to sit back and let you be alone on the pain." his eyes swirl with warmth. you can tell he's trying his best to comfort you.

"do you think.. we would ever meet back in my timeline?"

before viktor could answer, the door opens, revealing the golden boy himself.

"i got us some dinner!" his smile oblivious and bright, unware of the heavy air as his presence seems more bright than the setting sun.

you don't feel like you belong in plitover, but you know you belong with viktor and jayce at least.

[saturnscafe]

͙˚ ༘✶Hated | Werewolf Husband (Fem reader)

Contains smut

Being married off to the highest ranking alpha was something you knew would happen. Your mother told you about it ever since you could remember. How you should learn how to do this for your alpha some day. How you can’t dress like that because no alpha would want you. Spoiler to her though that never changed who you were. You weren’t just some dumb dog that would roll over. No. You were a smart, strong person who would fight back in anyway she could.

You had found out who you’d be marrying year later. You hated him. Hated him for how he acted. Hated how he treated others, like they were beneath him. He was in laments terms the biggest asshole you’d ever seen.

The day came when you finally had the unpleasantry of meeting. Your face giving you away from how disgusted you were by him. It only made him chuckle, knowing full well like it or not you were his.

When you finally walked down that isle. Meeting him at the alter, you kept your jaw clenched. You hated him. But why did he look- look almost handsome? Like he was happy to be there?

The ceremony went on and he grew closer and closer to you. Arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. A wide toothy grin plaster across his dumb- attractive face. Where were these thoughts coming from? And how could you make them stop.

When you were off to the honeymoon an extravagant manner, full view of the ocean with little to anyone around. You relaxed almost. Looking out at the water and hearing the sounds of it crashing. Nothing prepared you for the arms that slunk around you. Hoisting you up before laying you flat on your back. Your now werewolf husband stood above you with a glint in his eye. “My beautiful wife” he said that wicked smile going from ear to ear.

He leaned his body down onto yours, you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You let out a soft yelp when his big hands grabbed at your wrist pinning them above your head. He kissed you, devouring any whines to stop. He kissed you hungrily. Teeth hitting teeth as his tongue lapped at yours. His free hand came up pushing your dress up. “You can hate me all you want. But you’re mine. And no one will ever take you away from me” he said his voice husky, low almost a growl.

Your body reacted to the sound of him before your mind could. Bucking your hips up to his hardening cock before a whimper slipped past your lips. That grin slowly creeping back up on his face before pushing your panties down. His fingers grazed your soft skin. Moving over your mound before ever so softly touching your clit. He looked down at your glossy eyes taking you all in. “Ever since we were kids, I told your parents you’d be mine. I made it a mission. You’d be mine. Mine.” He repeated.

His lips found your jaw kissing down to your neck before almost purring those words into your ear one more time. “Mine.” He sucked purple marks across your neck his long fingers dipping into your dripping cunt. Your mind raced with his words from earlier. ‘He had wanted you for so long. But why you. Why did he want you?’ You thought you were thinking to yourself but the words fell from your mouth like a faucet. He smiled against your skin “because, you’re my true mate. The only one I want. I’ll change whatever aspect you need me to. Need me to be kinda? Ok done. Need me to fuck this pretty little cunt anytime of day? Damn right I’ll do that too.” He said his fingers now jackhammering into you.

The sounds of your moans and wet cunt filled the room. He brought you to your first orgasm not long after before pushing his pants down. “Tell me you hate me and I’ll stop. Tell me you don’t want any of this and I’ll go away.” He said eyes locked on yours. Truthfully you didn’t want him to stop. Some part of you, deep inside wanted him so badly. Maybe it always has. “Fuck- I- I hate you.” You moaned out. “But I don’t want you to stop- please don’t stop”

He pushed into you as your words continued. “I hate how you treat- others.” You moaned “and I really fucking hate that I want you”

He leaned down inches away from your face as he fucked into you with almost no mercy. “Then I’ll change. If it means- ah- if it means making my beautiful wife happy. To have you want to be mine then I’ll do whatever it takes.” He said genuinely.

His moved himself wrapping his arms around you as he could feel you ready to cum again. “Cum with me, cum on my knot” he groaned. He finally pushed past your walls driving his knot deep into you. The strain of curse, moans and groans leaving both of your lips. He came hard around him arms wrapping around him pulling him close. You’re pretty fat cunt milking him for every last drop.

After moments go by he breathed out a barely audible “I’m serous” before cupping your face in his big hands. “I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I’ll be whatever it is that you need. I’ve loved you for so long. So so fucking long. And I’ll do anything to make you feel the same way.”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo and @steddiemicrofic.

Mordor It Was

Steddie Microfic January Prompt: New || Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Hurt/Comfort | Word Count: 517 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Post-Bat Attack | POV: Eddie | Tags: S4 Fix-It, Eddie Munson Lives, Steve Harrington Will Make Sure Of It, And Then Not Go Away. Pre-Steddie

The darkness takes hold faster than Eddie imagined. He didn't think one bite, followed by another, and another, could fuck up his whole world this much. But it has, and now he's faced with the reality that he's gonna die here. On the ground, having run in the wrong direction.

Having failed.

And that's something he's gonna have to live with. Just, not for very long. He can feel his pulse hammering, beating in his chest. His neck. As the blood pulses out of him, spilling onto the filthy ground below.

He wanted to do better, wanted to not run away this time, but he still managed to fuck it up. 

Goddamnit.

He's made peace with it, even if Henderson isn't as accepting of what's coming. Maybe it's the blood loss making Eddie feel serene when he should be fighting, panicking.

It doesn't matter.

Steve Harrington is here, fighting for him. 

Eddie kind of wishes he wouldn't. He's floaty, no longer feeling pain, and anything Steve can possibly do will disturb that, surely.

"Eddie, for fuck's sake," Steve's saying, and Eddie tries to open his eyes.

"Eddie!"

His eyes snap open. Steve is hovering, "Good. That's good. I'm going to pick you up. Don't fucking die."

He's definitely gonna die, but he nods. He'll try his best.

Steve tugs on him, and the pain that sears through him is above and beyond anything he's ever felt. He lets out a hoarse scream.

"I know, I'm sorry," Steve says, throwing him over his shoulder like he weighs nothing at all, repeating his previous order: "Don't fucking die."

But Eddie thinks he'll do just that.

When he wakes up, he's in a sterile hospital room. Machines are beeping, whirring, and he thinks this has to be the calm before the storm.

But Steve Harrington's sitting in the chair next to him, looking comfortable, his feet propped up on Eddie's bed, reading a book.

Harrington reads? 

Eddie squints, tries to look closer, to see what he's reading, and realizes it's not a new book. No, it's his own copy of The Return of the King. He recognizes his own paperback's well-worn, dog-eared cover.

"My book," Eddie croaks, and Steve startles so bad, the book goes flying, skittering across the tile floor.

"I'm sorry. Wayne left it. I was bored," he starts, then immediately changes direction, "You're okay, it's okay," already pressing the call button, hammering it with his thumb, as if he's convinced Eddie's gonna drop dead in the next five seconds without help. 

The way the room fills, maybe he will. Steve has backed up against the wall, the book clutched to his chest. 

There's poking, and prodding.

Wayne rushes in, and Steve still stands there.

Finally, the crowd thins. Apparently, he's gonna live.

Steve sits back down.

"So, what's new?" Steve teases, and Eddie laughs. His throat is hoarse, dry. Steve pours water from the pink, plastic pitcher, directing the straw to his mouth. 

Eddie takes the longest, best drink of his life, then says, "Not much. You?"

Steve holds up the book and grins, "Learning about Mordor."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for these challenges, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun!

[professorspork]

friends i am FROTHING AT THE MOUTH over the Nov 1 2008 Wicked boot, Carmen Cusack's penultimate 1NT show with Katie Rose Clarke

it is far and away the best boot I've seen so far in the great chronological watch and just kEPT GETTING BETTER OVER TIME

like. Carmen really gets her teeth into Elphaba and lets her be a bitch when she needs to be

and she and Katie's Galinda are just such fascinating equal-and-opposite autistic4autistic

and Deedee Magno Hall's transition from Nice Nessa to Wicked Nessa is so tangible and legible and good

and Cliffton Hall's Fiyero actually gives thropple for once

and like. it's stellar throughout, and there are so many gay little moments (KATIE KISSES CARMEN'S SHOULDER IN ONE SHORT DAY WTF) but like

after "Wonderful" it just goes. the fuck. OFF.

and by "it" i mostly mean "Katie Rose Clarke"

please forgive me these gifs will not even remotely capture it but my words alone would not do this justice

first of all the REUNION HUG they just CANNOT BEAR TO END so they KEEP FINDING NEW WAYS TO TOUCH

but all good things must end, and when Elphaba and Fiyero leave Glinda is FURIOUS with them and SO HEARTBROKEN

but not as furious as she is with HERSELF. I have never seen an "I'm Not That Girl (Reprise)" that is so dripping with self-hatred and like you stupid bitch of course they left you, you should have known better energy

like PLEASE look at this UNHINGED SHIT katie is doing with her head and neck about "don't wish":

and then after that our big reward is one of the straight-up horniest ALAYM renditions i have EVER seen

and then the catfight

THIS CATFIGHT

gifs cannot capture Carmen's delivery of "wretched little farmgirl" but know it was so perfect I was screaming and clapping

and like. ok. throughout this performance Katie does this Obvious Regret thing where like, Glinda says things aloud and then visibly immediately hears how stupid it sounds and wishes to take it back and there's nothing she can do about it (changing her name to Glinda being the biggest example, but the delivery of "FINE GO, YOU DESERVE EACH OTHER" above is ALSO a great example)

and this fight escalates so quickly because she CANNOT stop making it WORSE

and she KNOWS

but can't QUIT IT

and then Carmen literally STOMPS THE GROUND on "by bubble"

and then delivers "someone like him could actually choose someone like me" in the platonic ideal way that acknowledges thropple, the indictment of Fiyero coming with her when Glinda didn't

and then

Katie ACTUALLY SLAPS HER

SO HARD HER HAT FALLS OFF

AND THEN PLEASE LOOK AT THE SLAP BACK

Katie's "lemme go I almost had her" is FERAL

and afterwards she is still SO MAD that she KICKS THE BROOM

EVEN HER "DO IT" IS MAD, she TURNS HER BACK ON HER

but then

then it's For Good and it starts to dawn on you that it's Carmen's second to last show because she LITERALLY cannot BEAR to look at Katie (who is crying) for most of the song because she knows she'll mcfreaking lose it if she does

but that's fine because when she actually DOES look at her she KISSES HER HAND

I AM DEAD

this boot has ended me. ENDED ME. @theseerasures and I finished watching it and IMMEDIATELY had to go back and watch the highlights again

like I didn't even have TIME to get into this Popular

anyway uh if you're looking for a bootleg that'll really fuckin hit the spot

i STRONGLY RECOMMEND this one

[frownyalfred]

god i am just exploding thinking about bruce and sex in the arkham prince au. there is absolutely no way he’s not accustomed to exchanging sex for favors, information, anything he wants or needs. he’s no stranger to doing it to protect his kids, particularly with guards and medical staff; if bruce is available, they generally take him over dick, and if they don’t, he finds a way to ensure they can’t take anyone. it turns out that deaths that can’t be traced back to you sometimes require outsourcing, and outsourcing requires payment, and rich as he is on the outside, payment on the inside does not mean money

so arkham prince bruce comes to view sex and attraction as tools in a way not dissimilar to brucie. they’re double-edged swords. more than one bruce has had to deal with obsession, stalking, undesirable consequences. more than once bruce has had to deal with the arkham staff assuming they have free license to do with their prince what they wish. but it’s also a means of connection, one of the very small number of ways bruce ever touches another person without inherent violence, and arkham prince bruce is even more starved for genuine human connection than the batman, so…

…he ends up digesting clark’s attraction to him in stages, over years

- he immediately notices that clark thinks he’s handsome; not especially noteworthy, as nearly everyone does, and although it’s fun and easy to fluster the awkward kansas boy with his biting kind of charm it’s also not ultimately that productive, because

- the awkward kansas boy is superman, and superman is not random guard number eight who can be persuaded to use bruce’s mouth in exchange for looking the other way at just the right time. superman, despite his glaringly obvious physical attraction to bruce, does not seem like he wants that. it’s something of a novelty, and bruce reformulates his strategy

- but the ensuing seduction attempts, each more subtle and meaningful than the last, yield nothing. when bruce goes out of his way to appeal to clark, he might get a blush or an eye roll or a mock-scandalized half-serious request to stop. it’s when he’s not going out of his way to appeal to clark that clark actually seems the most enchanted

- and it takes a bit, partially because clark is guarded enough that he doesn’t fall instantly in love with the prince of arkham and partially because bruce for all his genius has the emotional intelligence of a dead salmon, but bruce comes to realize that clark…doesn’t just want to fuck him? clark…isn’t just taking advantage of the asset bruce is to the justice league on alternate tuesdays? clark…loves him? and seems to express this by going out of his way to be seen in public in gotham, and loudly talking about how it’s a city with a heart of gold beneath its dark and bloody exterior?

if bruce ever offered up any kind of requited affection after clark has decided to trust him, clark would be ON THAT like white on rice, thinking to himself that he knew there was still space in bruce’s heart to love another person the way he loves gotham. he’d be giddy and thrilled right up until he realizes (possibly in the middle of sex) that bruce isn’t touching him and letting himself be touched because he wants clark, he’s doing it because that’s how he keeps the favor of powerful people. unfortunately, x-ray vision doesn’t work on feelings

This is dark and I love it. But it’s oddly in character for Bruce even in this AU, using his body to achieve his goals, detaching emotion from the physical. And Clark being the one person to make him want to open up and change that…

[darklinaforever]

Me realizing how powerful homophobia can be among League of Legends and Arcane fans. Seriously, wtf ?!

When I see the things that are said about Caitvi...

Not to mention those who simply hate the simple concept of shipping fanon ships like with Jayvik when it doesn't change anything in canon ?!

And all those who hate that potential lesbians could have had a crush on Katarina recently, rushing to scream that she was straight !

Cool. And ? That won't stop people from shipping her with a girl (especially Elise) right now if they want ? And that won't stop the canon romance that Katarina has with Garen from existing (which I can't wait to see if it ends up being adapted since we're normally on an enemies to lovers trope).

Like... I see so many people in the fandom lol saying that the concept of ships ruins canon... But hat the hell are you talking about ?

Also, so funny to see them screaming and crying about how Vi & Caitlyn were "forced, not official in the game, that they were probably friends and that it's useless, just respect the canon instead of forcing queer characters" but strangely Timebomb who has nothing canon, not even ambiguity according to lol, well strangely it doesn't bother them.

They claim it's because it would be better done when clearly... no ? And yet I like this ship too. We all know why Caitvi seems forced to them but not Timebomb.

Seriously, all this disgusts me.

Let people ship whatever the fuck they want.