#of backlog for two companies

[ceasarslegion]

My rambley raccoon came in!

[icewindandboringhorror]

Pictures and things

[chameleon-sting]

the funniest thing about my experience with hades i think is how my feelings toward zagreus immediately went from "[grips desk with force enough to compress stars into atoms] I need something unspeakable to occur." to "he is my friend and i like him and he is my friend and i want good things to happen to him he is a good person and he is my friend :]" upon exposure to his actual character rather than constructing something with literally only this specific image and the hair flip from that trailer as my reference points for him for like two years

[legendary-guest]

I can second this, well, mostly from the perspective of having read Bad is Good and Good is Bad and The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie and enjoying them thoroughly. Really fantastic building blocks in-place for a young Shego, just great. The two stories linked, prequels to The Company You Keep, are Shego-centric and explore the formation of her hero identity from its inception to its destruction, essentially. Something that I really appreciate, too, is that young Drakken is very ambitious, but not only that, he's also distinctly creepy, unsavoury, serving as the very last push that Shego needs to exit heroism and enter villainy. He is also her safety net, unknowingly. It's this fine balance, on a really precarious edge. Her dynamic with her family is strained, you feel the pressure and burn out, even in just six chapters. It's this powder keg, ready to blow. I particularly love her exit in The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie, that was a great way to end the story, very memorable. I really recommend, at least the prequels, to lovers of Shego-centric angst and inner turmoil. I would also recommend to people who love more serious, dangerous takes on the series and the pairing. Really great writing, not just in terms of content, but prose, too.

Hey, so I just discovered your The Company You Keep series on Ao3 a few days ago and it has massively overtaken all of my free time. I rush to finish my homework so I can devour another chapter. I'm really trying to pace myself and not spam you with comments on Ao3 but these are honestly the best Drakgo fics I've read (and I've combed through quite a bit in my few weeks hyperfixating on this pairing). You write Shego so well. I love seeing hints of the competent, fully realized woman that she is in her young, brash, wild teen years. My favorite thing about how you write her is that you don't brush over her hero background at all. I truly see the conflict within her. She's wrestling with herself like her duties to her family and her yearning for freedom. You just portray her falling into the allure of villainy so deliciously well. I feel so bad that I wasn't around and reading this while you were writing it in 2019. I would've been one of your regular readers cheerleading you on, chapter by chapter. I understand that you lost your motivation to write more for this verse since the fandom is quite old and inactive. But what you've put out is amazing and so well written, I'll come back to it for years to come, I just know it.

…oh i should check my ao3 email…. so it turns out I'm naming my first born after you

alsdfugh you say such nice things klsdufgh Thank you!!! I'm glad you enjoy it! Makes me so happy I can't put it into words. I cried. I do still love TCYK and wish to continue it someday, but a lack of time and energy to devote to it put a damper on it. I'll probably cycle back eventually, but I'll be thinking of you! ;O;

[shatterdome-underscore]

I keep thinking about how wild the Watcher trying to be Dropout thing is because like, Dropout working at all was a miracle in itself. Dropout came from the ashes of a 20+ year old company getting torpedoed right before the pandemic. They had much more content, much more talent, and what appears to be lower production values, a massive backlog of stuff, and still produce free content. Also, everyone knew Dropout was a hail Mary play to save a company and a dozen or so people's careers while the Watcher thing came on the heels of them announcing they hired more people to eat gold plated food and plan on taking trips to Europe. I don't think Dropout was even profitable for the first year or two? Literally what were they thinking? I know YouTube is making it harder to earn money but Dropout came from such a specific set of circumstances that it's not really possible to emulate its path.

[reiderwriter]

At Long Last Love Has Arrived

Final Chapter of That's What You Get

Summary: After a hard case, the team gathers in a celebration of love and friendship.

Warnings: suggestive content, no smut. Spoilers for Seaaon 7 Episodes "Hit" and "Run."

A/N: This is it! This is the final chapter! It's been a long journey and I'm so thankful to everyone who liked, commented, reblogged, and generally followed along with the story! And to anyone who is here now that it's finished: Thank you as well! For now, this is everything I have planned for this series, but I might add a few epilogues a few months down the line!

For everyone waiting for my last week of kinktober content, thank you for being so patient! I'm hoping to get it all finished and the backlog up this weekend, so let's just count this as a super special weekend special!

As always, you can find my masterlist here and the series masterlist here!

It was late in the day when the case finally wrapped, and you'd never felt more relieved to have come out of a case unscathed. 

JJ was a wreck, obviously, having had her family targeted and believing on multiple occasions that she was about to lose her partner. Emily was acting strange, too, and you were growing more concerned with her, especially after she'd put herself in harm's way to save Will. 

The team was exhausted, and you gladly slunked away that night, practically falling into your own apartment as you tried to bury a day of close calls. Spencer followed you, of course. The two of you sat silently together after the days events, just thankful to have company, really. 

Your husband (you were still warming yourself up to that title) sat, jaw tensed, on your couch, book in hand and hair a mess as you sat beside him, slowly sinking further into the couch as you thanked the gods that everyone got through that, but especially him. 

"Spencer," you whispered, looking at him to see if he'd notice your small sounds. No reaction.

"Spencer." You tried again, still in a whisper, but he still didn't make a move. Sighing and falling further into the couch, you decided just to go for it and laid your head in his lap quietly, closing your eyes and finding a comfortable position. He didn't bat an eye, though, simply tangling a hand through your hair and gently stroking it until the comforting repetition pulled you into a dreamless slumber. 

He tried to wake you up gently a few hours later, but the shrill ring of his cell interrupted his gentle touches. You gasped and startled up, almost headbutting him but instead ending up face to face, close enough to hear the hitch in his breath as he caught you just before you collided. 

"Sorry… I must've fallen asleep." Your voice was low, mostly because you'd let your gaze fall down to his lips, getting distracted by his proximity. 

"You did." He said, stroking your back and looking just as distracted. 

"We should probably pick that call up, right," you suggested, but you were already being drawn into his orbit, noses practically touching.

"Maybe we should," he replied, but instead of moving to do so, he simply tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and pulled your face up to his. The slant of his lips against yours was calming, so sweet and familiar, and so goddamn good that it helped drown out the pitchy screech of his phone. His hand stayed firmly on your jaw, controlling your movements and showing you exactly what he wanted in these stolen moments.

As the kiss went on, it grew hotter, a gentle flame searing your chest as you begged his lips to put it out, needing more and more of him. His hand left your jaw, falling instead to your ass as he pulled you on top of him fully, letting you straddle him as he kept your lips connected. 

You were entranced, letting him devour you to your heart's content. You wanted to move your hips to feel more of him at your core, but he had a firm grip and wasn't letting you go that easily. 

"Talk about topping from the bottom," you laughed into his ear as you pulled away for a second, pushing your hair behind your ear before he grabbed you and pulled you down for another hungry kiss.

"Don't get bratty, Y/N, we both know you're a pillow princess," you laughed at that and he took advantage, pressing his lips to your neck as he finally let your hips fall to meet his. Your laugh morphed into a hiss as you desperately clung to his shoulders, head thrown back in the bliss of what was to come. 

The ringing had stopped, thankfully, and honestly, it was so far from your mind that you'd almost completely forgotten what had woken you in the first place.

Until it started again, except this time it was vibrations in your pants and you practically moaned out loud before clapping a hand over your mouth and bolting from Spencer's lap, grabbing your phone as fast as you could while Spencer barely contained his enjoyment of the situation. 

"This is Y/N." You said into the receiver as you glared daggers at him. 

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but considering Doctor Reid just let my call ring out, I think I might have." David Rossi's barely contained mirth was evident even through the phone, and you mouthed some bad words at Spencer as he grabbed you and pulled you down into his lap again. 

"Since that wasn't a question, I won't be dignified it with a response. Is there anything you need, Rossi?" You asked, tipping your head back against Spencer’s shoulder but not letting yourself relax just yet. You'd never be able to live it down if you made any mistakes on this call. 

"Somehow, the knuckleheads around me keep getting engaged and married, and as a generous soul, I find myself wanting to help them." 

"Who got engaged?" You said, suddenly perking up. It'd been a tough day. Some good news and a celebration were direly needed. 

"Relax, I'm getting there. Are you and your now seemingly permanent husband free tomorrow night? A little birdie may have told me about a certain blonde finally giving into a proposal today. That same birdie may also have already flown out a Mrs. Jareau to bare witness."

"David Rossi, has anyone ever told you what a wonderful man you are?" 

"Not enough, I'm sure."

"We'll be there. What time?" He told you the details, and you whispered them into Spencer's ear, knowing that was just as good as jotting it down on paper. 

"And Rossi?" You said, as you were about to say your goodbyes, "thank you. For everything." The call ended and looked back up at Spencer from your place on his lap. 

"I think we have another shotgun wedding to attend." 

–X– 

Waiting for JJ to come down in her wedding dress, you were reminded again of what a truly wonderful choice of husband you had made. 

The two of you had arrived together at the wedding, but had made a small attempt to separate yourselves for now, not wanting to take the attention away from JJ and Will on their big day after their nightmarish week. You'd had a quick wink from Penelope, though, and a wiggle of the eyebrows from Emily, which made you chuckle as she handed you a flute of champagne. 

"You look incredible, Mrs. Reid." She said under her breath, and you giggled a bit but called her off as best you could. 

"Laying low for now, so keep your mouth shut, Agent Prentiss." She stuck her tongue out at you, and the two of you burst into laughter as you enjoyed the peaceful ambience Rossi had created in his back garden. 

"If Rossi ever re-retires, he should think of pursuing a career as a party planner. I know writing is working out well for him, but damn, that man could make a killing." Emily joked, catching your attention for a second, but you were distracted, eyes watching Reid from across the lawn. 

He was crouched down beside Henry, showing the eager, bright-eyed boy a magic trick. He looked so happy, so genuinely engaged with Henry, focusing his entire attention on him, that you couldn't help but watch on fondly. You knew how it felt to have his attention devoted entirely on you, and you felt your skin grow warm as you imagined how he would be with his own children. 

With your children. 

"Looking a little feverish there, Y/N. Baby feverish." In embarrassment, you looked away, letting your eyes fall around the lawn to anything but Reid as you tried to stammer out a response. 

"Whatever could you mean? Oh, would you look at that, Hotch is calling me over, see you." 

A skilful exit it was not, and now you'd forced yourself to go and make awkward conversation with your boss for a few minutes to escape the cackles of laughter escaping Emily behind you. You felt your ears glow red as you slowly marched across the lawn, convinced that someone was going to try and extinguish you before you reached your destination. 

Luckily, Beth saw you approach before Hotchner did and called out to you, extending a smile and a greeting. 

"Y/N, you look lovely. It's great to see you. How have you been?" You exchanged pleasantries and chatted for a while before Hotch cut in again. 

''Beth, I think the ceremony is starting soon. Would you mind finding Jack for me while I discuss something with Y/N?" He dismissed her effortlessly, and you suddenly dreaded the conversation that was about to come, noting your slip up from a few nights before. 

"Y/N, I don't mean to pry, but I've been meaning to ask you about your relationship with Spencer." Your eyes opened wide as you blinked at him again for another second. 

"Hold on, you don't know?" He looked down at you with a furrowed brow, somehow thinking you'd both misunderstood the conversation and where it was headed. 

In all honesty, you'd jumped to the conclusion after his warning over the phone the day before that he'd known about your relationship with Spencer. It didn't really make all that much sense to you, but you thought he must've been your second witness, only because there were very few people with the power to keep Penelope Garcia silent. But now, you wondered if you'd been wrong.

"Don't know what? Y/N, I'm simply asking a question about your physical relationship with Reid and if you think it will color either of your judgements on cases." 

"Physical… oh my god." You begged the earth to swallow you whole at that point. 

"I'm correct in thinking you two had relations whilst we were staying in Las Vegas, am I not?" His brow stayed furrowed as he fished for more information.

"How… How did you know?" 

"Spencer babbled about Star Trek in the lobby that last morning in Vegas. He seemed nervous, and combined with your suspicious attitude, it wasn't exactly a well-kept secret. Plants aren't great hiding spots, Y/N." 

"Oh god," you groaned again, a hand falling to your mouth to cover your shocked face as you took everything in. He'd practically known from the start, even if he hadn't really known. "So you want to know if we can be trusted to stay impartial in the field." 

"Simply put, yes, it is a concern of mine. The FBI technically frowns on casual hookups between employees, but in this case, if you can work professionally-" 

"We're married," you blurted out before you could stop yourself. You almost enjoyed the shock on Aaron Hotchner's face as you dropped that bombshell, as momentary as it was. 

"That certainly…changes things." He considered your words for a moment before opening his mouth again. "We can talk about this in the office on Monday. For now, congratulations are in order." 

As you clicked your glasses together awkwardly, Rossi gathered everyone's attention, ready to begin the ceremony. You took your place next to Spencer and let him grab your hand and squeeze it for a moment, sharing a look before you turned your gaze back to JJ and watched as her mother walked her down the aisle to marry the love of her life. 

His hand in yours was warm and constant, and he held you so softly that you felt like you were floating. He'd been worried that morning that you'd feel slightly forlorn at the wedding ceremony. After all, you didn't have much of one, even if he'd promised you 100 do-overs and vow renewals. 

But standing here with him, you found yourself feeling thankful simply that he was there with you. Your wedding had been perfect, and you gladly applauded JJ and Will as they finally kissed at the altar, wishing them all the bliss that you felt in that moment. 

The party was a blast and you had an amazing time eating, drinking and dancing with all your guests, gladly taking the opportunity to hog Spencer for a few dances, enjoying how you were able to shamelessly cling to him with no one batting an eye. Your joy and laughter spilt out every time he swung you around and pulled you into him, abuzz with love. 

You were almost glad when JJ called you all in for a quick speech, grateful to let your feet have a rest - Spencer may have been dancing enthusiastically, but he was still Spencer, and your toes had been attacked a few times in the course of your few dances. 

"I want to say thank you for coming here tonight, and, of course, thank you, Rossi, for hosting this beautiful wedding. It's not every day we get to celebrate a wedding in the BAU, let alone two in one year, so I'm just thankful we got to come together to celebrate like this." 

Will looked perplexed by her side as she raised her flute to start the toast. 

"Hold on, who else got married?" 

Your eyes widened as you stopped your champagne flute by your lips, suddenly catching on to the thread of conversation. 

"Oh my god, it was you!" You shouted, jumping up and probably confusing every single guest in attendance. "JJ, you- you were the other witness!" You stood there shaking a pointed finger at her, semi shocked. 

"Witness to what?" Morgan asked tentatively, wondering what he'd been left out of for a second. 

"I guess the cats out the bag. Sorry, Spence." 

"Why are you apologising to Spencer? Who got married?" Derek's questions were going unanswered, though, as you blubbered in the middle of the crowd suddenly put the pieces together. 

"You know, the FBI really shot themselves in the foot when they let you go over to Homeland. You're good." You cracked a smile at JJ, and she smiled back, just as you felt a hand on your back. 

"We didn't want to announce it here and hijack your wedding, but since you kinda let it slip first, would you mind if we…?" Spencer vaguely gestured between you, just as JJ let him take the floor, her and Will standing off to the side as Spencer turned the both of you around to face the crowd. 

You tried to meet his gaze as he did  but his eyes stayed trained on the crowd in front of you instead. Still puzzled, he began to talk, and you listened. 

"Last month, we chose to get married in Las Vegas," he started and braced for impact as he looked out at the audience. "And- and it seems like most of you knew that?" He'd theorised that most of your team knew already, but he wasn't prepared for just how many of them stood looking back at him with a sheepish 'yes, we know' look on their faces. 

"Wait, how do so many of you know?" He glanced around the crowd, landing on Rossi's gloating face first. 

"Don't look at me kid, you told me about it, and I kept my mouth shut."

He turned to Emily next. "Y/N sent me a text meant for someone else, and I tortured the information out of her after that." 

Exasperated, he looked down at you before shaking his head and looking at Hotch. 

"I expressed some concerns about your… involvement earlier, and Y/N informed me about your relationship status." He explained, tone serious in that mocking way only he could carry off. 

"And I was there, and so was Penelope." JJ filled in the gaps, leaving you feeling particularly bashful at Spencer’s side.

In a second, though, you were consumed by giggles as Morgan whipped around on Penelope dramatically. 

"Et tu, baby girl? Am I seriously the only one who didn't know?" Morgan glanced around receiving pats on the back from the crowd as they slowly trickled back to the dance floor, picking up extra drinks as they went. 

"No, I'm there with you, Morgan. JJ didn't even tell me you guys were dating." Will said, looking genuinely taken aback once again. 

"Oh, well. That's probably because we didn't actually date. We just got married." You replied, feeling your face flood with heat as you stuttered the words out once again. 

"You're telling me I had to almost die to get JJ to agree to marry me, even after 7 years of dating and a child, and you managed to convince a woman to do it in one night in Vegas?" Will seemed genuinely impressed, and with a laugh, gave Spencer a clap on the back awkwardly as he offered his congratulations. 

Penelope led Morgan away to console him, and the other happy couple walked back to the dance floor again as well, leaving you in the arms of your husband, as you finally had to face your small mistakes. 

"So, Mrs. Reid, whatever happened to keeping this to ourselves for a while?" 

"Honest mistakes, both of them, I swear." He took your hands in his and pulled them up so he could kiss your wrists before gently dropping them and pulling you in at the waist. 

His mouth fell to your ears as he spoke again. 

"And I was so looking forward to using one of the methods we brainstormed the other night." You stood confused for a second as he pulled back to watch your expressions, your mouth twitching the second you realised what he meant. 

Ring. Motel. Loud sex. And breeding you until he knocked you up. 

Clearing your throat, you wrapped your arms up and around his shoulders, hanging yourself off him, putting yourself at his mercy as you fluttered your eyelashes up at him. 

"Well, I wouldn't want to spoil your enjoyment now, would I? I'm sure we can still find the time to try those methods out." 

The excitement in his eyes was almost comical, and you genuinely yelped as he literally swept you off your feet. 

"Spencer, what are you doing? Put me down!" 

"No, you're coming home with me, Mrs. Reid. Sorry, it's official now. You're mine."

"And I'm not going to forget it easily, now put me down." 

"And let you go back on your promise to let me do some very dirty things to you? Never." 

With another startled squeak, he carried you through the crowd and right to the doors, carrying you all the way into your new life together.

At long last, your love had arrived, and he was carrying you away into your future.

🏷 @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @whovianwholikesgirls @doriantomybasil

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Inkjump Linkdump

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

It's the start of a long weekend and I've found myself with a backlog of links, so it's time for another linkdump – the eighteenth in the (occasional) series. Here's the previous installments:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

Kicking off this week's backlog is a piece of epic lawyer-snark, which is something I always love, but what makes this snark total catnip for me is that it's snark about copyfraud: false copyright claims made to censor online speech. Yes please and a second portion, thank you very much!

This starts with the Cola Corporation, a radical LA-based design store that makes lefty t-shirts, stickers and the like. Cola made a t-shirt that remixed the LA Lakers logo to read "Fuck the LAPD." In response, the LAPD's private foundation sent a nonsense copyright takedown letter. Cola's lawyer, Mike Dunford, sent them a chef's-kiss-perfect reply, just two words long: "LOL, no":

https://www.techdirt.com/2024/04/19/apparel-company-gives-perfect-response-to-lapds-nonsense-ip-threat-letter-over-fuck-the-lapd-shirt/

But that's not the lawyer snark I'm writing about today. Dunford also sent a letter to IMG Worldwide, whose lawyers sent the initial threat, demanding an explanation for this outrageous threat, which was – as the physicists say – "not even wrong":

https://www.loweringthebar.net/2024/05/lol-no-explained.html

Every part of the legal threat is dissected here, with lavish, caustic footnotes, mercilessly picking apart the legal defects, including legally actionable copyfraud under DMCA 512(f), which provides for penalties for wrongful copyright threats. To my delight, Dunford cited Lenz here, which is the infamous "Dancing Baby" case that EFF successfully litigated on behalf of Stephanie Lenz, whose video of her adorable (then-)toddler dancing to a few seconds of Prince's "Let's Go Crazy" was censored by Universal Music Group:

https://www.eff.org/cases/lenz-v-universal

Dunford's towering rage is leavened with incredulous demands for explanations: how on Earth could a lawyer knowingly send such a defective, illegal threat? Why shouldn't Dunford seek recovery of his costs from IMG and its client, the LA Police Foundation, for such lawless bullying? It is a sparkling – incandescent, even! – piece of lawyerly writing. If only all legal correspondence was this entertaining! Every 1L should study this.

Meanwhile, Cola has sold out of everything, thanks to that viral "LOL, no." initial response letter. They're taking orders for their next resupply, shipping on June 1. Gotta love that Streisand Effect!

https://www.thecolacorporation.com/

I'm generally skeptical of political activism that takes the form of buying things or refusing to do so. "Voting with your wallet" is a pretty difficult trick to pull off. After all, the people with the thickest wallets get the most votes, and generally, the monopoly party wins. But as the Cola Company's example shows, there's times when shopping can be a political act.

But that's because it's a collective act. Lots of us went and bought stuff from Cola, to send a message to the LAPD about legal bullying. That kind of collective action is hard to pull off, especially when it comes to purchase-decisions. Often, this kind of thing descends into a kind of parody of political action, where you substitute shopping for ideology. This is where Matt Bors's Mr Gotcha comes in: "ooh, you want to make things better, but you bought a product from a tainted company, I guess you're not really sincere, gotcha!"

https://thenib.com/mister-gotcha/

There's a great example of this in Zephyr Teachout's brilliant 2020 book Break 'Em Up: if you miss the pro-union demonstration at the Amazon warehouse because you spent two hours driving around looking for an indie stationer to buy the cardboard to make your protest sign rather than buying it from Amazon, Amazon wins:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/29/break-em-up/#break-em-up

So yeah, I'm pretty skeptical of consumerism as a framework for political activism. It's very hard to pull off an effective boycott, especially of a monopolist. But if you can pull it off, well…

Canada is one of the most monopoly-friendly countries in the world. Hell, the Competition Act doesn't even have an "abuse of dominance" standard! That's like a criminal code that doesn't have a section prohibiting "murder." (The Trudeau government has promised to fix this.)

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/opinion/editorials/article-an-overhauled-competition-act-will-light-a-fire-in-the-stolid-world-of/

There's stiff competition for Most Guillotineable Canadian Billionaire. There's the entire Irving family, who basically own the province of New Bruinswick:

https://www.canadaland.com/podcast/dynasties-2-the-irvings/

There's Ted Rogers, the trumpy billionaire telecoms monopolist, whose serial acquire-and-loot approach to media has devastated Canadian TV and publishing:

https://www.canadaland.com/podcast/canadaland-725-the-rogers-family-compact/

But then there's Galen Fucking Weston, the nepobaby who inherited the family grocery business (including Loblaw), bought out all his competitors (including Shopper's Drug Mart), and then engaged in a criminal price-fixing conspiracy to rig the price of bread, the most Les-Miz-ass crime imaginable:

https://www.blogto.com/eat_drink/2023/06/what-should-happened-galen-weston-price-fixing/

Weston has made himself the face of the family business, appearing in TV ads in a cardigan to deliver dead-eyed avuncular paeans to his sprawling empire, even as he colludes with competitors to rig the price of his workers' wages:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2020-06-12/a-supermarket-billionaire-steps-into-trouble-over-pandemic-wages

For Canadians, Weston is the face of greedflation, the man whose nickle-and-diming knows no shame. This is the man who decided that the discount on nearly-spoiled produce would be slashed from 50% to 30%, who racked up record profits even as his prices skyrocketed.

It's impossible to overstate how loathed Galen Weston is at this moment. There's a very good episode of the excellent new podcast Lately, hosted by Canadian competition expert Vass Bednar and Katrina Onstad that gives you a sense of the national outrage:

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/podcasts/lately/article-boycotting-the-loblawpoly/

All of this has led to a national boycott of Loblaw, kicked off by members of the r/loblawsisoutofcontrol, and it's working. Writing for Jacobin, Jeremy Appel gives us a snapshot of a nation in revolt:

https://jacobin.com/2024/05/loblaw-grocery-price-gouge-boycott/

Appel points out the boycott's problems – there's lots of places, particularly in the north, where Loblaw's is the only game in town, or where the sole competitor is the equally odious Walmart. But he also talks about the beneficial effect the boycott is having for independent grocers and co-ops who deal more fairly with their suppliers and their customers.

He also platforms the boycott's call for a national system of price controls on certain staples. This is something that neoliberal economists despise, and it's always fun to watch them lose their minds when the subject is raised. Meanwhile, economists like Isabella M Weber continue to publish careful research explaining how and why price controls can work, and represent our best weapon against "seller's inflation":

https://scholarworks.umass.edu/econ_workingpaper/343/

Antimonopoly sentiment is having a minute, obviously, and the news comes at you fast. This week, the DoJ filed a lawsuit to break up Ticketmaster/Live Nation, one of the country's most notorious monopolists, who have aroused the ire of every kind of fan, but especially the Swifties (don't fuck with Swifties). In announcing the suit, DoJ Antitrust Division boss Jonathan Kanter coined the term "Ticketmaster tax" to describe the junk fees that Ticketmaster uses to pick all our pockets.

In response, Ticketmaster has mobilized its own Loblaw-like shill army, who insist that all the anti-monopoly activism is misguided populism, and "anti-business." In his BIG newsletter, Matt Stoller tears these claims apart, and provides one of the clearest explanations of how Ticketmaster rips us all off that I've ever seen, leaning heavily on Ticketmaster's own statements to their investors and the business-press:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/antitrust-enforcers-to-break-up-ticketmaster

Ticketmaster has a complicated "flywheel" that it uses to corner the market on live events, mixing low-margin businesses that are deliberately kept unprofitable (to prevent competitors from gaining a foothold) in order to capture the high-margin businesses that are its real prize. All this complexity can make your eyes glaze over, and that's to Ticketmaster's benefit, keeping normies from looking too closely at how this bizarre self-licking ice-cream cone really works.

But for industry insiders, those workings are all too clear. When Rebecca Giblin and I were working on our book Chokepoint Capitalism, we talked to insiders from every corner of the entertainment-industrial complex, and there was always at least one expert who'd go on record about the scams inside everything from news monopolies to streaming video to publishing and the record industry:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

The sole exception was Ticketmaster/Live Nation. When we talked to club owners, promoters and other victims of TM's scam, they universally refused to go on the record. They were palpably terrified of retaliation from Ticketmaster's enforcers. They acted like mafia informants seeking witness protection. Not without reason, mind you: back when the TM monopoly was just getting started, Pearl Jam – then one of the most powerful acts in American music – took a stand against them. Ticketmaster destroyed them. That was when TM was a mere hatchling, with a bare fraction of the terrifying power it wields today.

TM is a great example of the problem with boycotts. If a club or an act refuses to work with TM/LN, they're destroyed. If a fan refuses to buy tickets from TM or see a Live Nation show, they basically can't go to any shows. The TM monopoly isn't a problem of bad individual choices – it's a systemic problem that needs a systemic response.

That's what makes antitrust responses so timely. Federal enforcers have wide-ranging powers, and can seek remedies that consumerism can never attain – there's no way a boycott could result in a breakup of Ticketmaster/Live Nation, but a DoJ lawsuit can absolutely get there.

Every federal agency has wide-ranging antimonopoly powers at its disposal. These are laid out very well in Tim Wu's 2020 White House Executive Order on competition, which identifies 72 ways the agencies can act against monopoly without having to wait for Congress:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/13/post-bork-era/#manne-down

But of course, the majority of antimonopoly power is vested in the FTC, the agency created to police corporate power. Section 5 of the FTC Act grants the agency the power to act to prevent "unfair and deceptive methods of competition":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

This clause has lain largely dormant since the Reagan era, but FTC chair Lina Khan has revived it, using it to create muscular privacy rights for Americans, and to ban noncompete agreements that bind American workers to dead-end jobs:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/25/capri-v-tapestry/#aiming-at-dollars-not-men

The FTC's power to ban activity because it's "unfair and deceptive" is exciting, because it promises American internet users a way to solve their problems beyond copyright law. Copyright law is basically the only law that survived the digital transition, even as privacy, labor and consumer protection rights went into hibernation. The last time Congress gave us a federal consumer privacy law was 1988, and it's a law that bans video store clerks from telling the newspapers which VHS cassettes you rented:

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

That's left internet users desperately trying to contort copyright to solve every problem they have – like someone trying to build a house using nothing but chainsaw. For example, I once found someone impersonating me on a dating site, luring strangers into private spaces. Alarmed, I contacted the dating site, who told me that their only fix for this was for me to file a copyright claim against the impersonator to make them remove the profile photo. Now, that photo was Creative Commons licensed, so any takedown notice would have been a "LOL, no." grade act of copyfraud:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/21/the-internets-original-sin/

The unsuitability of copyright for solving complex labor and privacy problems hasn't stopped people who experience these problems from trying to use copyright to solve them. They've got nothing else, after all.

That's why everyone who's worried about the absolutely legitimate and urgent concerns over AI and labor and privacy has latched onto copyright as the best tool for resolving these questions, despite copyright's total unsuitability for this purpose, and the strong likelihood that this will make these problems worse:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/13/spooky-action-at-a-close-up/#invisible-hand

Enter FTC Chair Lina Khan, who has just announced that her agency will be reviewing AI model training as an "unfair and deceptive method of competition":

https://thehill.com/policy/technology/4682461-ftc-chair-ai-models-could-violate-antitrust-laws/

If the agency can establish this fact, they will have sweeping powers to craft rules prohibiting the destructive and unfair uses of AI, without endangering beneficial activities like scraping, mathematical analysis, and the creation of automated systems that help with everything from adding archival metadata to exonerating wrongly convicted people rotting in prison:

https://hrdag.org/tech-notes/large-language-models-IPNO.html

I love this so much. Khan's announcement accomplishes the seemingly impossible: affirming that there are real problems and insisting that we employ tactics that can actually fix those problems, rather than just doing something because inaction is so frustrating.

That's something we could use a lot more of, especially in platform regulation. The other big tech news about Big Tech last week was the progress of a bill that would repeal Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act at the end of 2025, without any plans to replace it with something else.

Section 230 is the most maligned, least understood internet law, and that's saying something:

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

Its critics wrongly accuse the law – which makes internet users liable for bad speech acts, not the platforms that carry that speech – of being a gift to Big Tech. That's totally wrong. Without Section 230, platforms could be named to lawsuits arising from their users' actions. We know how that would play out.

Back in 2018, Congress took a big chunk out of 230 when they passed SESTA/FOSTA, a law that makes platforms liable for any sex trafficking that is facilitated by their platforms. Now, this may sound like a narrowly targeted, beneficial law that aims at a deplorable, unconscionable crime. But here's how it played out: the platforms decided that it was too much trouble to distinguish sex trafficking from any sex-work, including consensual sex work and adjacent activities. The result? Consensual sex-work became infinitely more dangerous and precarious, while trafficking was largely unaffected:

https://www.gao.gov/assets/gao-21-385.pdf

Eliminating 230 would be incredibly reckless under any circumstances, but after the SESTA/FOSTA experience, it's unforgivable. The Big Tech platforms will greet this development by indiscriminately wiping out any kind of controversial speech from marginalized groups (think #MeToo or Black Lives Matter). Meanwhile, the rich and powerful will get a new tool – far more powerful than copyfraud – to make inconvenient speech disappear. The war-criminals, rapists, murderers and rip-off artists who currently make do with bogus copyright claims to "manage their reputations" will be able to use pretextual legal threats to make their critics just disappear:

https://www.qurium.org/forensics/dark-ops-undercovered-episode-i-eliminalia/

In a post-230 world, Cola Corporation's lawyers wouldn't get a chance to reply to the LAPD's bullying lawyers – those lawyers would send their letter to Cola's hosting provider, who would weigh the possibility of being named in a lawsuit against the small-dollar monthly payment they get from Cola, and poof, no more Cola. The legal bullies could do the same for Cola's email provider, their payment processor, their anti-DoS provider.

This week on EFF's Deeplinks blog, I published a piece making the connection between abolishing Section 230 and reinforcing Big Tech monopolies:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/05/wanna-make-big-tech-monopolies-even-worse-kill-section-230

The Big Tech platforms really do suck, and the solution to their systemic, persistent moderation failures won't come from making them liable for users' speech. The platforms have correctly assessed that they alone have the legal and moderation staff to do the kinds of mass-deletions of controversial speech that could survive a post-230 world. That's why tech billionaires like Mark Zuckerberg love the idea of getting rid of 230:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/03/facebooks-pitch-congress-section-230-me-not-thee

But for small tech providers – individuals, co-ops, nonprofits and startups that host fediverse servers, standalone group chats and BBSes – a post-230 world is a mass-extinction event. Ever had a friend demand that you take sides in an interpersonal dispute ("if you invite her to the party, I'm not coming!").

Imagine if your refusal to take sides in a dispute among your friends – and their friends, and their friends – could result in you being named to a suit that could cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to settle:

https://www.engine.is/news/primer/section230costs

It's one thing to hope for a more humane internet run by people who want to make hospitable forums for online communities to form. It's another to ask them to take on an uninsurable risk that could result in the loss of their home, their retirement account, and their life's savings.

A post-230 world is one in which Big Tech must delete first and ask questions later. Yes, Big Tech platforms have many sins to answer for, but making them jointly liable for their users' speech will flush out treasure-hunters seeking a quick settlement and a quick buck.

Again, this isn't speculative – it's inevitable. Consider FTX: yes, the disgraced cryptocurrency exchange was a festering hive of fraud – but there's no way that fraud added up to the 23.6 quintillion dollars in claims that have been laid against it:

https://cdn.arstechnica.net/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/US-v-SBF-Alameda-Research-Victim-Impact-Statement-3-20-2024.pdf

Without 230, Big Tech will shut down anything controversial – and small tech will disappear. It's the worst of all possible worlds, a gift to tech monopolists and the bullies and crooks who have turned our online communities into shooting galleries.

One of the reasons I love working for EFF is our ability to propose technologically informed, sound policy solutions to the very real problems that tech creates, such as our work on interoperability as a way to make it easier for users to escape Big Tech:

https://www.eff.org/interoperablefacebook

Every year, EFF recognizes the best, bravest and brightest contributors to a better internet and a better technological future, with our annual EFF Awards. Nominations just opened for this year's awards – if you know someone who fits the bill, here's the form:

https://www.eff.org/nominations-open-2024-eff-awards

It's nearly time for me to sign off on this weekend's linkdump. For one thing, I have to vacate my backyard hammock, because we've got contractors who need to access the side of the house to install our brand new heat-pump (one of two things I'm purchasing with my last lump-sum book advance – the other is corrective cataract surgery that will give me lifelong, perfect vision).

I've been lusting after a heat-pump for years, and they just keep getting better – though you might not know it, thanks to the fossil-fuel industry disinfo campaign that insists that these unbelievably cool gadgets don't work. This week in Wired, Matt Simon offers a comprehensive debunking of this nonsense, and on the way, explains the nearly magical technology that allows a heat pump to heat a midwestern home in the dead of winter:

https://www.wired.com/story/myth-heat-pumps-cold-weather-freezing-subzero/

As heat pumps become more common, their applications will continue to proliferate. On Bloomberg, Feargus O'Sullivan describes one such application: the Japanese yokushitsu kansouki – a sealed bathroom with its own heat-pump that can perfectly dry all your clothes while you're out at work:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2024-05-22/laundry-lessons-from-japanese-bathroom-technology

This is amazing stuff – it uses less energy than a clothes-dryer, leaves your clothes wrinkle-free, prevents the rapid deterioration caused by high heat and mechanical agitation, and prevents the microfiber pollution that lowers our air-quality.

This is the most solarpunk thing I've read all week, and it makes me insanely jealous of Japanese people. The second-most solarpunk thing I've read this week came from The New Republic, where Aaron Regunberg and Donald Braman discuss the possibility of using civil asset forfeiture laws – lately expanded to farcical levels by the Supreme Court in Culley – to force the fossil fuel industry to pay for the energy transition:

https://newrepublic.com/article/181721/fossil-fuels-civil-forefeiture-pipeline-climate

They point out that the fossil fuel industry has committed a string of undisputed crimes, including fraud, and that the Supremes' new standard for asset forfeiture could comfortably accommodate state AGs and other enforcers who seek billions from Big Oil on this basis. Of course, Big Oil has more resources to fight civil asset forfeiture than the median disputant in these cases ("a low- or moderate-income person of color [with] a suspected connection to drugs"). But it's an exciting idea!

All right, the heat-pump guys really need me to vacate the hammock, so here's one last quickie for you: Barath Raghavan and Bruce Schneier's new paper, "Seeing Like a Data Structure":

https://www.belfercenter.org/publication/seeing-data-structure

This is a masterful riff on James C Scott's classic Seeing Like a State, and it describes how digitalization forces us into computable categories, and counts the real costs of doing so. It's a gnarly and thoughtful piece, and it's been on my mind continuously since Schneier sent it to me yesterday. Something suitably chewy for you to masticate over the long weekend!

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/25/anthology/#lol-no

[kairiscorner]

bc i feel like it

overworked salary man miggy o'hara hcs

before he met you, he loathed getting up in the morning; the only thing he really looked forward to was getting his fix of coffee, because working for a company that doesn't acknowledge you exist outside of being another cog in the machine and having to work non-stop from 9-5 really changed up his brain chemistry, and so all he wanted to do was drink coffee in the morning and think of nothing else.

he'd forgets to get breakfast at times, so before lunch, there's always a pivotal hour when his hunger worsens and he gets angry. like he becomes an entirely different person, he's no longer 9:30 miggy, he's aggressive and hangry miggy at 11:15.

he barely gets spoken to in the office tbh, the only people who interact with him are the ones who go to his table to pass him their empty paper coffee cups because he's the only one with a big trash bin in their wing so they give him the duty of paper cup disposal 😭😭😭

when he met you, tbh, he found a reason to get out of bed that wasn't just to get his fix of coffee and brush his teeth–he had something to actually look forward to in his day, someone who'd finally look his way and talk to him like he existed, like he meant something to them–that he was worth talking to.

it's because of you that he actually remembers to get breakfast every day after he met you and enjoys it. especially if you two go get breakfast from your recommendations, like man, he swears, you are have the best taste in food.

you make the commute to the office and back home so bearable, like he hates having to deal with the overcrowding, the noises, the bright lights in train stations–but when you're here with him, and you're comforting him, sharing an earphone with him, listening to comfortable noises or music with him to fall asleep to or just try to shift his focus away from the noise and all.

when you two walk home together, before you go on your own way, he always thinks of asking you out to dinner. he wants to impress you for once with his own food taste, even if he thinks you have better taste compared to him, but he wants to treat you to a lovely night where two aren't bogged down with work or backlog or anything else annoying.

when his tie is loose or is falling apart, he loves it when you tie it for him. he might or might not purposefully keep it untied at times, just to feel you close to him, experience you tie it for him and be so close.

when you're working overtime, he volunteers to stay behind and help you work. it's not just because he pities you and understands what it's like to be bogged down with work, but because he... he loves you and wants you to be rid of these shitty work burdens.

he encourages you to shit talk your crappy managers, bosses, and just general asshole higher-ups. he does the same, and you feel a lot more carefree around him.

he's always lending you stuff from his cubicle, he never gets mad or irritated about it when it's you–to everyone else, it's off-limits to borrow his stuff. he actually sometimes hopes you need to borrow his stuff, it's his excuse to see you :>

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara

[hwaightme]

The meaning of 'Jeong'

☔ pairing: yunho x f!reader ☔ genre: comfort, fluff, angst ☔ summary: jeong (정/情) - the intimate and warm feeling, the closeness and affection arising from one's relationship with another person. ☔ wordcount: 5.8k ☔ warnings/tags: stress, a lot of work stress, burnout, disregard for own health, language, a little arguing, yunho driving, yunho singing, business, office, implied office disrespect, no need for words when yunho knows, knight in a shining automobile, snow and rain, on the verge of a breakdown, starry night, unedited, lmk if anything else~ ☔ taglist: @doom-fics @legohwa @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven ☔ network tags: @k-labels @ateezlovenet @kflixnet ☔ a/n: hello there, sometimes we are in need of some yunfort~ warmest hugs, and much love! All reblogs, comments, thoughts, notes appreciated~ Thank you so much Sky for ideating with me, inspiring me, and fueling first my San, and then my Yunho brainrots <3 would not have happened without you~

It seemed that no matter what you did, everything served to further agitate you - another penny in the bottle of emotions that was threatening to overflow if you as much as hinted at your utter exhaustion. With all your might you wanted to convince yourself that this was temporary, you were trying your best and that no matter what happened, it all would end up being for the better. But sometimes, too much was just what it was. Too much.

Your troubles had wounded themselves tightly into an impossible knot, weighing you down until you were in a hopeless crawl, barely sentient and resorting to existing on autopilot just so you could avoid tearing up in a public place. You were not about to give your colleagues the sadistic satisfaction. With hefty heaps of sarcasm and barely concealed impatience, you waded through meeting after meeting, discussing projects that had backlogs larger than your anger. Somehow, as the day progressed, what you had already deemed to be a ‘not so good day’ had managed to one, two, triple-up itself.

First, you were notified, twenty minutes before the official launch of a function update in an internal, company-wide application, that there was a severe bug found, and the release would have to be delayed until further notice. Nothing new for a product manager to hear, but considering that you had just spent two hours in a metaphorical grill with your own senior manager, as well as the director of the department, you were not about to ‘not take things to heart’. The pressure only built as you were pinging person after person, with your dual monitor glowing from all the messaging windows, fighting against the torrent of your subordinates’ uncontrollable procrastination, all an attempt to reconfigure task assignment to fit in the same sprint. You cursed the ‘agile’ framework time and time again as you upped the severity on at least seven story points for your team, and hesitantly, transferred a hefty number to yourself.

This was a never-ending cycle. One which you would never break no matter how hard you tried. Such was your job; at least that was the excuse you gave it, since the monetary compensation was good enough to be motivated to put up with was clearly draining. In calls from early morning until late in the evening. Constantly juggling everyone’s workload and having to keep your finger on the professional pulses of at least fifty people, globally. You were no stranger to having meetings at awkward hours of the day, either. As you watched your colleagues beginning to pack up and leave for home, chatting away about their families, or about some new restaurant that opened in the area, or about some sports game, you realised you were completely deflated. Looking at your calendar, there was only one meeting – with partners in the US, to go, but it felt like an impossibly daunting task. Exhaustion was weighing heavy on your eyes and tension in your neck made it impossible to sit comfortably. But you still did it. Still sat there, in your office chair, accompanied by the squadron of chronic overtime workers whose heads were dotted across the floor as far as your eye could see, and pretended like it was not nearing nine o’clock at night.

You had promised your boyfriend that you would stop drinking coffee at weird hours, him having been horrified at how you could handle the bitter beverage, while you would pretend you did not see him sneak sweetener into his mocha. But with both of you getting busier and busier, and with you additionally trying to drown out the noise that came with not seeing him as much as you would have wanted, you slipped into your routinely coffee machine visits. The rumble of the artificial barista as it brewed up your only source of energy was soothing – the one sound in the workplace that did not pose a threat to your mental health, nor to your growing headache. Every sip was a temporary lull in an otherwise chaotic corporate fiasco you had found yourself in. Oh, how you wished you could tap out; this was your only conclusion to the dull, monotonous interlocution where not once, but twice did one of your co-workers abroad show their complete ineptitude in all things technology related by failing to share screen and check chat.

As you bid farewell to the last of the officemates who you agreed to mutual acknowledgement with, you leaned back in your chair and sighed. With the pitch black night outside, the artificial fluorescence that illuminated your pallid, tired skin appeared to be stronger, drying your eyes. If you were to stay frozen for a while, they would turn off until the next sudden movement, and maybe you could catch up on a much needed nap, cutting your sleep debt by at least a few minutes. But at the same time, could you afford those few minutes? When you were left alone with your mind, the notion of productivity and achievement became skewed, and what you would previously deem to be okay, or good enough, easily moving on to the next task, now metamorphosed – daunting, demanding monsters that haunted you, highlighting their inexistent faults in a dark crimson, covering your vision. If there was free time, that was time that could be spent working, perfecting, editing. And if it was not spent in that way, it was time wasted. Simple as that. Inadvertently, you became a lethal collaborator of the very cycle you dreaded waking up for the last couple of weeks, and were now in the process of breaking it, twisting it into a downwards spiral. You were aware of this, and yet, you remained passive, dismissing all alarm bells as overdramatization. The increase in cooling coals in your ambitious fire did not phase you, for you decided you had more important things to focus on. Like staring at your emails, unable to conjure a single coherent thought.

The words were swimming in front of you, the caffeine no longer doing anything to serve you. All that was left was the chocolatey aftertaste – you had your coffee snob colleagues to thank for campaigning for having proper beans be ordered, so everyone could travel to faraway places at least through the notes the beverage had, the harvest, taste the sun that blazed down on the rolling hills proudly bearing the farmlands. Only the memory of the dark roast sticking to the roof of your mouth, an unpleasant dryness settling along with the realisation that there was no chance you would be making any more progress. You heaved another displeased sigh, and after rolling your shoulders a couple of times, pressed on the power button, seeing how your distorted reflection appeared before you as the screens went black.

It was easy to imagine ghosts waving you goodbye, as the click-clack of your heels resonated through the main reception on the ground floor of the skyscraper where you were one of the many ants. A lonely security guard stationed by the turnstiles nodded you his farewell, hearing the beep of your id card being accepted. You nodded back. He was one of the more approachable-looking guardians of the money-making machine, you had seen him shake a joke with his fellow suited-up brethren a total of two times and you were not about to discourage yourself with the accompanying thought that you had been working in the company for just over a year now. You have not had the share of your favourite megawatt grins that would have dispelled your grim disposition, so every bit of negativity had to be treated with caution. You were a ballistic missile being transported in a rickety mule-drawn cart with one wheel falling off. Bit by bit. Step by step. You just needed an uneventful commute home, so you could collapse into your bed and forget about today, until tomorrow would inevitably remind you, and so the loop would start again.

But there it was. The cherry on top of the disgusting cake. Of course, the weather had to fit the atrocious mood. Even though your calendar explicitly stated spring, and you had been more than excited to welcome the longer days and the blooming trees and bushes, the temperamental elements were bestowed upon you as what could only be an evil prank. A cocktail of clumped up snowflakes and icy cold rain beating down on the side walk, the light emanating from a nearby streetlight gaining the appearance of static due to the rapidly cutting streaks. You cursed under your breath, already saying goodbye to your felt trench coat and blaming yourself for being too optimistic and not metaphorically gluing an umbrella to your hand. It was difficult to hold the tears that began to well up and inevitably blur your vision, turning the puddles and buildings into an urban soup. You had always wanted to see yourself as strong, or at least strong enough to be able to sustain yourself and be proud of your perseverance. But as you stood there, a stride away from being soaked by the downpour, you were trying to accept that you were fated to be ‘that one passenger’ on the metro, wavelengths of stress and misery vibrating out of you. The passenger who would have everyone sitting as far as possible and obviously concerned. You looked down, watching a stray shiny wrapper float down to the curb on a stream of water, stopping once it reached the sewage drain and the holes ended up being too small. Your hands clenched into weak fists, and you trembled, the nervous lump in your throat becoming painfully noticeable and spurring on a growing flood of apprehension. Under the stormy night sky you were so small. A tiny dot that would not leave as much as a footprint, insignificant against the menacing, ceaselessly falling drops of water, like a barrage of nature’s heavy artillery. As you were about you turn up the collar of your coat in attempt to do something, anything to protect you against the rain that you were about to step into, a voice called out, in part muted by the battering of concrete, but you would still recognise it anywhere.

“Would be cool if you could answer your phone sometimes.” Your head turned sharply to the right, in the direction from which you heard the sweet, deeper set tone.

Face slightly obscured by the edge of the huge umbrella that was loyally protecting him, there, approaching you, ambled the man who you would not dare expect to spontaneously visit you. Sure, you had your share of fantasies about how it would be like to have your boyfriend pick you up from work, or to meet up for lunch together, but both you and Yunho had phenomenally chaotic work schedules, and even calls lasting for longer than five minutes had to be planned well in advance. And while you were over the moon when you could spend time with him, the recent scarcity had led into a mounting pressure for you, to maintain a lighthearted disposition, to not let your troubles interfere with him and his life outside of a busy, demanding career. While that could have been your pride talking since such an approach took courage, your comfort was not at the forefront of your mind when you chose to not tell the full story to Yunho, when you faked a smile and covered the bags under your eyes.

"You know I can't use my phone in the office." You huffed, stuffing your hands into your pockets and feeling for the device, which you preferred to keep on do not disturb unless you knew someone was meant to be contacting you.

"Well, you are not in the office anymore, Y/N. But it’s alright, I completely get you. It’s late enough for you to not even bother with it until tomorrow, honestly." Your boyfriend shrugged his shoulders, and as he joined you under the roofing that protected the entrance from the mid-March cries of winter, he lowered and folded the black umbrella, revealing himself entirely to the streetlamp, and dim light emanating from the glass that guarded the reception area. You took in his divinely sculpted form, his smiling eyes and lips, and, in shock, realised that it had been far too long since you had seen this wondrous man in person.

He was dressed as though he had just stepped out of the dance studio, which, knowing Yunho, he very much might have. A beige hoodie, black tracksuit bottoms and some dual-toned sneakers to tie everything together he looked dangerously cuddly, which only further agitated you. Why did he have to come here without warning? Why did your ray of sunshine have to show up when you were nothing but a seething, thunderous raincloud?

"Thanks, Yun. But how and why are you here, exactly?" you did not mean to sound irritated, but your spent nerves were getting the best of you and took control of your speech. Yunho quirked an eyebrow but dismissed his perplexity in favour of lightening the atmosphere and cheering you up.

"My spidey senses told me you might need a knight in a shining automobile. And judging by how you don't have an umbrella, I think I'm right."

It was much more than just the lack of an umbrella; at your happiest, you were the type of person who would sing in the rain. It was the awkward hours at which you responded to his texts, the evident struggle you went through to keep your eyes open whenever you two would video call after work, but most of all it was how you so obviously held information back from Yunho that prompted him to approach his manager and carve out the time he otherwise would not have. If there was anything he learned over the half a year, and counting, of your relationship, was that you were a fighter, much like him - an energiser to a fault. You would give, give and give some more until there was nothing left for you, and then would lead yourself into the illusion that you were just being lazy when you were actually falling apart. You were putting on a brave, calm and collected face, and your hesitation to drop the mask in front of him was unnerving. If there was anyone in your present life who should be your pillar of support, a person you could trust, depend on, lean on be it emotionally or physically, it should be him. In Yunho's eyes, work and some pre-determined timetable was always adjustable when a loved one was in trouble, and hell, you were of the same opinion: when it came to racing across the city in the middle of the night just because he hinted at the fact that he had sustained an injury, you would stop the universe. So why did you not consider the basic healthy principle as something that was not applicable to you?

"But aren't you busy?" your inquiry sounded rhetorical. As though you had already formulated an answer for yourself and were unwilling to accept any other. To be frank, yes, Yunho was busy. So were you. Such was life. However, this element of your lives did not define you, nor did it imply having to take a secondary position in another’s life. Yunho shook his head, stepping closer to you until your arms were almost brushing.

There was a melancholic air to you. Days passing in minor chords, accumulating into a tune, then a song, then a symphony. Your sonata filled with dreams falling flat, and sharp comments forcing you to adjust your dynamics and rhythm. Yunho had fallen in love with the beautiful music of your heart – a beacon of kindness, selflessness and positivity, you had always been the first to encourage him, sometimes messaging or calling him before his members even had a chance to turn in his direction to wish him luck. An innate, deeper sense of what was around you, Yunho noticed time and time again how you elegantly navigated social landscapes, reading people, places and striving to simply do what was best for the situation you faced. You were one to intuitively know something was going on before it could even have the chance to consciously register.

But that also made you prone to wearing yourself out. Sacrificing yourself for those who did not deserve it, and not leaving enough to perform even the most basic human functions. Your boyfriend was always in awe of you, and how you could possibly have so much love contained in your body. As he gazed at your form while you rocked back and forth on your feet – a habitual action that he had realised was one of the most telling signs for your worry bubbling over, the strong urge to erase whatever parasitic dissonance was taking up space in your magnificent mind grew and grew until he could not resist to take your hand in his, smiling when he noticed your lips curl into the ghost of a smile as your fingers intertwined.

"Not busy to love you. No come on, let's get you home, you spent enough time in the glass box as is." He tugged on your hand, ready to open the umbrella again to lead you to the car he had parked around the corner, but you would not budge.

"I swear you had prac-"

"I am here. Okay? Here, now." He desperately wanted to bring you back into the present. What was outside of your control, and was not your decision to make should not preoccupy you, and yet if you caught onto as much as a hint of being the source of inconvenience for another, it sent you into a grim spiral. Not this time, Yunho was not going to let you keep doing this to yourself, even if it took a lifetime.

"It must have taken you so long to get here I-" your voice was growing quieter and quieter as you focused on the sensation of Yunho’s warm hand pressed against yours.

You had not realised how much you missed the feeling, and the reassurance that came with it. He was here, indeed. He was here with you. He was there for you. You raised your head as soon as he squeezed your hand a couple of times but struggled to maintain eye contact due to the evident concern written in his glimmering orbs. The tender, compassionate eyes, irises a dark mahogany hue, a safe haven in your hardship. You wished you could fall into those pools and drift into the blissful serenity they offered. At the same time, it was terrifying how he was peering right into your soul, making it seem as if your vulnerabilities were right there, on display, just for him. A shiver ran down your spine despite the layers you were wearing.

"If you checked your phone, you would now that my schedule changed." He commented, gleaming.

"Oh, so you are saying I'm wrong for worrying now?" you tried to pry yourself away, but Yunho strengthened his grip. He was not about to let you float into that headspace again.

"I don’t mean to make you angry here, just pointing a thing out." Voice level, the dulcet timbre silently posed a question to you – what was the rush? Why were you trying to run from affection?

"I am not angry! Just why is it that out of the blue you decide to appear? I would have been fine-"

"What, have other plans?"

"Uh, no? Going home?"

"So, what is there to stop me from popping by to see my girlfriend?” he pursed his lips, pulling you towards him so that you were facing him directly. Spontaneously interested in everything but his piercing scrutiny, you took to studying the white drawstrings of his hoodie.

"But… uh… well… There is like, a lot happening right now, isn’t there? For both of us? I mean… you have all that filming to do, the comeback to prepare for… you literally just came back from tour and…” you caught yourself rambling, and trailed off into the sound of rainfall.

"Hm. Figured."

Yunho nodded to himself, clicking the tip of his umbrella against the ground as though dotting a full stop on a page. Confused, you attempted to prompt him for an elaboration.

"Excuse me?"

"That you are burned out."

The phrase was a scalding hot iron thrown at the barriers you had painstakingly been building around your mind palace. You knew that it was true. Hell, if someone had just asked you to speak the truth about what you were feeling, this was the first thing that would come to mind, but were you going to say it? No. Never. What you were feeling and what influenced you was nobody else’s problem.

"Am not." It was childish, but it was the only response you could conjure without making tears well up in your eyes. Yunho was too close, too attentive, too much for your distressed and hurt heart.

"Are too."

"Look I am fine. There is nothing-” you peered at the darkness on the other side of the street. Tuned into the rustling of the trees that lined it, and wished for yourself to become part of the scenery instead of having to confront what Yunho was trying to get you to admit.

“You said there is a lot happening for both of us, and then you just list things off about me,” he was not going to let you go this easily, both in discussion and physically as he removed his hand from yours and instead placed it on your waist, “I am perfectly aware of them. I know my limits, and I know that I am managing fine only because I am honoured to have so many people supporting me. And now, I want one of these people to tell me what this ‘a lot’ means to them, and why they are now looking in the other direction.”

Your head snapped back to Yunho, revealing your misty-eyed state. Immediately, his expression softened, and he pulled you in, keeping you flush against his chest as he absent-mindedly rubbed your back with his thumb, while his other hand was keeping the wet umbrella a safe distance away from your clothing. You bit your lip as you took in Yunho’s comforting scent. He never wore any particular perfume, instead opting to smell like a mixture of fresh laundry and a miniscule hint of soap. And yet, if you could bottle this and keep it, you would in a heartbeat. To you, this was what the aroma of home, of safety was. If he wished to make you unravel your ball of troubles, this was the way to do it, you confirmed as you felt yourself automatically melt into his touch, blinking away tears that you were tired of holding. Not exactly aligned with your scheduled ‘half an hour of breaking down when you get to your apartment’, but who were you to complain about Yunho staying here with you, in the cold, adamant on defeating your inner voice that otherwise would have led you into a further darkness.  

"Let's continue this in the car, yeah?" His voice wavered, dropping into the softest whisper which jolted you out of your guards entirely, and you let yourself be guided by him to his car.

As you ambled, side by side, you were enveloped in a total silence, the raindrops forming an abstract beat on the umbrella above you. Arm around you, fingers landing just under your shoulder, Yunho was afraid of letting you go even for an instant, the fragility in your steps and fumbling for a response as he asked if his hold felt alright for you exposing your inner dejection. And once he had you and him settled in the front and driver’s seats respectively, he put the key into ignition, but did not turn it just yet. As the rain painted a blurry masterpiece on the windshield, he tilted his head, and looked at you.

“Tell me about your day.” A simple ask, but to you it felt like one of those unsolvable mathematics problems. You could lie, and on any other occasion you probably would with a classic ‘I’m fine thank you and you’, but you would be foolish to think that Yunho would buy that. If anything, he would explicitly label the nonsense for what it was and encourage you to give him a real answer with nothing but those gorgeous, hopeful eyes of his.

“It was… you know what, it was a lot. Too much even. Really, the last couple of weeks have been too much.” You uttered, annoyance starting to boil within you as you recalled the rollercoaster of events.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t want to weigh you don’t with it. Really, this is nothing. It will pass.” You fiddled with the buttons on the blazer, now within reach as you had unzipped your coat. Though your words were grammatically correct, nothing made sense to you. What was it that you were saying? Learned phrased out of the automatic deflection compartment, lines of defence in an effort to avoid discussion.

“Then why are you giving it so much power?” Yunho persisted.

“Uh… I don’t know, maybe because it is my job?”

“So, you get paid to have burn outs?” while he asked this in a joking manner, his smile did not spread past a brief flash. When you did not send a retort in his direction, he motioned for you to continue. You hated to admit it, but you agreed. As of late, this was exactly what your job had turned into. You being a hamster stuck in a wheel, running ceaselessly with no rest breaks in sight. Running in the hopes of there being a finish line. A success. A milestone. But all there seemed to be was more paperwork, more reporting, more meetings, more conflict, and more doubt.

“Well, now that you say that…”

“I am not one to judge professional choices and perfectionism. In fact, I respect you so much for being so dedicated, and being such a hard worker. But a siren is going off right now, okay? You are on the edge of a cliff, and we do not want you to fall off it, yeah?”

“What cliff?”

“I am an idiot for not picking up on this sooner, but now that I have, I must tell you: you are being pushed way past your limit, and you need a break. It is basically doctor’s orders.”

“But it’s just wo-”

“Tell me, what was the last thing one of your colleagues had said to you? About your work?” Yunho was no stranger to office gossip, through you having occasionally divulged to him the drama occurring in your workplace, and through the myriad of dramas he had watched with you and noticed that you often reacted to what was happening on screen as if it hit very close to home.

“Uhm… but it was not a nice thing so…”

“Say it.” Interest turned into a demand, and Yunho leaned closer to you.

“I only overheard it…”

“And? You still heard it.” Dropping his voice low, he rejected your subconscious devaluing of what had obviously been harm incurred.

“That I was trying too hard to please my boss…” a mumble escaped you, followed by a ragged sigh. Why was this so hard?

“That is fucked up.”

“…even though I was literally just doing my job. I was asked to do this report and all there was that was extra to it was me wanting to make it look pretty.” While you were not saying anything particularly heart-breaking, at least not by your definition, you choked up and had to force each word out with the strength you had left.

“I swear, humans are strange creatures,” Yunho mused out loud before chuckling, “says I, a human.”

“But that’s exactly why you can say it. And besides, you are a thoughtful human. Pretty much a blessing, Yunho. So don’t even.” Finally, a genuine grin graced your features, reminiscent of the first rays of sunlight after a merciless storm. Basking in the glow, Yunho returned it twofold and proudly wore the blush that started to rise on his cheeks. But he knew better than abandoning his mission so early on.

“Not to be cringe or anything, but to hear that coming from an angel is quite the honour.” He wiggled his eyebrows as you laughed airily. But the moment, unfortunately, did not last long, and your day was once more overcast by rumination. Yunho did not speak, waiting for you to give him as much detail as you felt comfortable with sharing.

“Sometimes, even if I am trying my hardest, I get this sense that I might be better off shutting up and giving the others the reins.”

“So, they are disrespecting their own manager?”

“I guess it's because I am younger than them or something. I mean, I get it, it is a gnarly economic period for the company, and everyone is losing their marbles, trying to stay above the water, but it would be good if they at least took my advice into consideration.”

If looks could destroy, then the glare that Yunho sent your office building would have set it ablaze. To curb his anger, he drummed out an abstract pattern on the steering wheel, though the grip that followed it told all. He blamed himself for not having been there sooner. For letting this pain pile on until it turned to a ball and chain that progressively set out to ruin what had been your dream career. If only it was as easy to wipe away cutting words and agonising actions like faint graphite etchings on a piece of paper.

“They should know their place, that’s what," he hissed, giving the wheel one final thump before pushing himself into his seat and turning to you, "You are being too soft on them, in my opinion. And that is why they are acting out. Promise me this, you will show them that you are a frontline manager, and you are more than capable of keeping things under control-”

“I’m trying-”

“-by taking a break. People can sense weakness, especially people who are not so kind to you. And while I cannot fix their attitude, I can try my best to help you. And before you say it, you are not coming into the office on the weekend, I am booking you up.”

"How do you know I do that?"

"Over the months of video calls you really think I did not memorise that one conference room you use to call me?" He shot back, smirking as you were at a loss, the only option being to roll your eyes and give yourself up to a legally mandated holiday.

“Yunho, you are too selfless, please, I just need a couple more hours of sleep and I’ll be all sorted."

“No, I will be selfish and take care of you. So, sit back, relax, and think of happy things. And that’s an order.”

“But that is not how selfish works?”

“It does in our world. Besides, don't you want to show them who is the boss?" The cheeky boyish grin won you over, and you beamed, whispering an amused:

"Unbelievable..."

Falling in love with Yunho did not give you butterflies in your stomach. If anything, it calmed the anxious knots that accumulated over however long the time between you being in each other's presence was. Sure, you would be okay without one another. Living life, achieving what you wanted to achieve. Brought down by the gloomy days but rising again. But together, those days were just so much less gloomy. The, what could only be described as innate, trust that you had formed in one another, was the invisible string tying you together in the gift that was your present. Falling and being in love with Yunho was like a warm day in the spring, a promise for new life, for blue skies and for a warm breeze caressing the blossoms of affection. It was like the starry night sky in the early summer, with you and him sitting on the rooftop of the apartment building where you lived, on an old bed sheet because you were yet to invest in a proper picnic blanket, but still the happiest people in the world.

As he closed the gap between you, running his fingers over your jawline before cupping your face to get a better angle, you closed your eyes and gave into the adoration that emanated from him. In the subtlest of gestures, in the sentimentality that translated into him understanding you better than how you understood yourself, he was every bit a man head over heels in love. And while either of you were yet to say the words, each action and inaction both screamed it. Perhaps it was something more than love. A proximity of the souls that was built in the quietude, in the shadows of an emotional flurry. In the hustle and bustle of common terminology, labels and anniversaries, a little world that could only come into existence with genuine intent and care became a reality. This cozy corner that housed only you and Yunho. 'Did you eat?', 'I will take care of you', 'I'm outside with medicine' were all manifestations of this unspoken devotion. And as he placed one final kiss on your rosy lips before starting up the car, you were entertained by the fascinating coincidence in the only term you could think of to describe this feeling being the exact same as your boyfriend's surname.

Flickering lights, neon signs and a revelation that the cycle could stop. Though you were on the verge of somnolence, barely resisting drowsiness settling on your eyelids like the snowflakes outside, you watched as Yunho masterfully spun the steering wheel while singing a melody which you recognised to be Standing Egg's Starry Night, one which you had made him repeat again and again as soon as you had heard it once. Upon noticing your gaze resting on him, he broke into a chuckle and fell quiet until the next red light.

"Mmm, why did you stop?" You asked and pouted, glancing at Yunho's arm as he pulled on the handbrake.

"Because I want to look at you as I sing it:

Here we are close to star

I want to stay with you forever like this

Here we are close to star

The endless starry sky and you and me..."

As he sang, in the air hung a promise. One which you did not need for him to say out loud to understand, for more often than not, the feeling itself was the true, and magical meaning.

[girlactionfigure]

⭕KINDERGARTEN HIT, PREEMPTIVE RUMORS - Real time from Israel  

ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

( VIDEO - Kindergarten HIT by a Hezbollah rocket in Acre. )

❗️For the 2nd time in a week, Hezbollah HIT a kindergarten, this time in Acre.  Fortunately the little children were not killed. But, as in the last case, the explosion was in the playground where the children were a minute before.  We await the condemnations and indictment for war crimes.

🔸CEASEFIRE NEWS.. US envoy Amos Hochstein will arrive in Israel tonight to discuss a Lebanon ceasefire deal.  However, those close to the speaker of the Lebanese Parliament told Sky News in Arabic: There are agreements on almost 80% of the issues.

.. Hezbollah Secretary General Naim Kassem on the cease-fire proposal: We have forwarded our comments, stopping the war now depends on the Israeli response.

.. Senior officials in Israel: The two main controversies, pertaining to Israeli freedom of action in Lebanon in the event of a violation, and the composition of the supervisory committee in Lebanon.

▪️OPPOSITION MK EISENKOT.. submitted a bill to finance academic tuition for combatants and supporters of combat, failed in the plenary following opposition from the coalition. Earlier, the coalition asked to postpone the vote in order to examine whether the proposal is possible in terms of budget - but he refused.

Likud: The law "Dimensions for studies" established 100% funding for a bachelor's degree for combat soldiers, passed on Dec. 2023.  Why is the opposition creating a false image?

▪️UN SEC COUNCIL.. attempted to pass a resolution demanding an immediate ceasefire in Gaza without immediately returning the hostages - but with Israel releasing Palestinian terror prisoners.  US veto’d. 

▪️I.C.J.  .. Prof. Malcolm Shaw, head of Israel's defense team at the International Court of Justice in The Hague, at the Security and Democracy Conference of the Israel Democracy Institute: "At the international level, Israel's position is weak. Israel is not Russia. Russia can afford to break the law and get away with it."

▪️MILITARY INDUSTRY.. The aerospace industry reports a backlog of orders of about 25 billion dollars - an all-time record. Among other things, the company presented an increase of about 74% in the net profit in the first 9 months of 2024, this in relation to the corresponding period last year.

❗️IRAQ - reports of Israeli preparations for a pre-emptive strike in Iraqi territory against the Shia militias supported by Iran. Transportation of heavy Iranian missiles to these militias in recent weeks.

♦️LEBANON - Wave of airstrikes through the day.

♦️SAMARIA - JENIN - forces carrying out works to expose terror infrastructures and destroy them, and eliminate terrorists.  IED’s encountered.

♦️SYRIA - significant airstrikes in Palmyra, central Syria.  Enemy report: a meeting was held that included officers from the regime with members of the Iranian militias.

⭕ROCKET HIT - Kiryat Shmona - apartment building seriously damaged.  No injuries.

[inkformyblood]

guess (COD Kinktober 2024 Day 14)

Canon Era, Soap x Ghost x Price x Gaz, (Poly141). Sex toys. Lime.

“Package for you, Cap. And one for you, Lieutenant.” Gaz’s arms are loaded high with the recent mail delivery; backlogged for three months with their recent spate of missions and Soap can barely remember half the items he’d ordered while he’d been on leave. Some fresh paints possibly, a new sketchbook given that he was starting to run out of space in his current one and layering fresh drawings over old. 

Gaz drops a handful of parcels onto the table in front of Soap, a few letters mixed in, and Soap grabs for them before Gaz’s words could register.

Between the five of them, Gaz receives the most mail — a combination of a larger family and a minor addiction to the late night shopping channels — then Soap — his own family fairly well-spread, if disorganised, and his artistic hobbies lending themselves to infrequent purchases — but Price almost never receives mail, same as Ghost.

“What did you get?” Soap leans forwards, his own mail abandoned and tips Ghost’s package towards himself, peering at the shipping label. He only gets a glimpse, simplistic text on a plain background, nothing more than a company name, before it’s pulled away, Ghost snapping his fingers in front of his face. 

Gaz nudges Soap back into his seat, dropping onto his lap with a sigh. He’s a solid weight, Soap’s arms falling to his hips then wrapping around Gaz’s belly and squeezing him tight as he presses his forehead to the back of Gaz’s neck. The other man smells like the cheap toiletries in the communal showers, a lingering hit of rich smoke from Price’s cigars, and Soap lifts his face to bite at Gaz’s shoulder, just for something else to do as his mind races. 

Gaz sinks further down, tips his head back to allow Soap better access to his skin. “Same parcel that Price has got,” he murmurs, his gaze darting between the other two men. There’s something brewing between them, the parcels opened just enough to slide the invoices free and they have swapped them, dragging their fingers over the small text. Price is holding his far enough away that it could be grabbed easily…

“Don’t even think about it, lad.”

Fair enough. 

Ghost glances over his invoice, his eyes dark, and a shiver rolls up Soap’s spine, his teeth tight in the fabric of Gaz’s shirt. “Might as well test them out now.” Ghost tears his parcel open without another thought and crooks his fingers at them both. “Doors locked so bend over the desk and you’ll see what we’ve got.”

There’s a strange thrill to being any degree of naked in the main areas of the base, Soap and Gaz folded over the meeting room table and their trousers drawn down to the ankles. 

“Opening scene to a porno ain’t we, Gaz.”

Gaz catches his eye, grins wide. “Have we been naughty boys, sirs?”

A broad hand smacks against Soap’s arse first, low enough to catch the meat of his thigh, and he yelps, jerking forward on the table. Gaz groans into the second impact, burying his face into his hands and raising his hips up. Something rests against Soap’s spine, cool but not metal, a slightly tacky sensation as he shivers and it moves. 

“Eyes front,” Price barks. “Got a surprise for you, lads. Couple of toys for you to test out, but.”

“But, sir?” Gaz asks, chewing over his lower lip, slightly shifting against Soap as he sways his arse, raised high in the air once more. 

“You’re going to guess the size of the toy we are fucking you with. At stake are bragging rights and you can pick the movie tonight.”

[implausiblyjosh]

Cohost Criticisms

The following was posted on cohost, which you can find here:

Being upset that people are like "why aren't the financial updates on time, why aren't you explaining the downtime" is baffling to me. They built this site on transparency! Their funding comes with the expectation of financial transparency! Regardless of if people should put faith in the four randoms running the website, people have and it's definitely worrying when the "here's the forecast on how long the lights stay on" post isn't on time.

Additionally, it's totally fine to worry about adding on a ton of extra workload to the site. Remember when the bug report page was overrun with viagra and gambling spam for weeks because no one kept up with it? Or when the site was down with no communication. Apparently paid Artist Alley posts got backlogged. It took someone making two posts on here about horribly bigoted comments on a staff post before moderation happened because the official moderation channels were not working (and the one moderator of the site was a bit of a self-admitted coward in handling moderation of a bigoted comment!). And now you're telling me you're adding tag wrangling, a feature that AO3 seemingly needs a volunteer army for, to your site with no plans of making it sustainable? Y'all seemingly couldn't get one of the other three people of the four person team on the ball with the financial transparency posts that are part of your funding agreement, why should we be excited or hopeful for this new feature?

I get people really want this site to work for them. I'd love for any new social media site to work for me! But unless something drastically changes, the writing is clearly on the wall that this is not that site.

The following is new for you, people reading on Tumblr:

There's a lot of stuff busted with Cohost, and while I think a large part of it comes down to culture issues, there are genuine issues at the foundation of the site. The company that owns it is an LLC, despite being labeled as a "not for profit" operation. But that really doesn't matter, they will never get a change to make a profit, because they're paying themselves "tech workers in silicon valley" money to run their site that makes no profit. Additionally, they have not found a way to crack that nut of profitability, being only funded by some pseudonymous wealthy friend, and with no clear path to "making enough money to get out of debt and/or pay staff", let alone profit.

So there are core issues foundational to the site, but Cohost diehards get extremely upset about the concept of criticizing or talking about cohost in ways they don't like, trying to paint people as bad faith as soon as possible. It's incredibly frustrating! A lot of those Cohost diehards are friends of the owners, so every criticism of cohost is an attack on the friends. You can see this here, where one of said friends of the owners is in my comments defending their "if you don't like it, just leave and stop criticizing my friends business" comments. At one point, people were saying that complaining about accessibility features was like whining to McDonalds cashiers and trashing bathrooms... when the site is worked on by the owners. There are no cashiers, just well-paid owners trying to sell you on a nonprofit fantasy so you'll buy ads or get a subscription.

I want the site to work out because I would like for there to be a semi-permanent place for me to exist online. However... it doesn't seem like that's gonna happen if they refuse to change and they keep up this shitty culture.

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 7

Heyooooooooooo. I'm back and there are no longer any parts backlogged - I'mma have to get to work on finishing this series lol

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Meeting new people, feels

Word Count: 1,900

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5][Part 6]

The sunset blazes through the kitchen window, bathing you and Bucky in soft golden light. The focus you had not even five minutes ago is a distant memory when faced with the view in front of you. Bucky looks so fine sitting across from you with the light shadowing one side of his face and illuminating his shorter hair. 

You still can’t get over the fact that Bucky actually cut it – you’d mentioned a haircut on more than one occasion, but he’d always brushed it off and said it wasn’t his style anymore. You disagreed then and you absolutely disagree now. His long hair was gorgeous in its own right, but nothing compares to the uninhibited view of his face now. His hair is mussed in spiky clumps where Bucky has run his fingers through it in frustration, but you can’t help but think how good it looks even like this.

You’re pretending to type something on your laptop, ensuring Bucky thinks that you’re actually working and not staring at him like the love-struck idiot you are. Every once in a while you’ll catch his eyes flickering up to meet yours, so all you can do is act like you’re thinking about something really hard and you’d just so happened to have blanked out on him. 

It’s been quiet between the two of you for the last 30 minutes – the vigor and excitement for planning ratcheting down once you got into the gritty details. That’s why you’re not expecting the thump, thump, thump that echoes down the hallway from the front door. Bucky’s head jerks up and he looks at you with a quirked eyebrow, asking silently if you knew someone was coming over. You shake your head and rise from the table. 

Stepping under the kitchen archway and into the living room, you pad across the carpet and into the entry hall. “Just a moment!” you yell out to the stranger behind the door. Without looking, you slide the dagger hidden inside the entryway table into your hand and approach the door. Rising slightly onto your tiptoes, you peer through the peephole in the door.

A couple stands on your front porch, the view fishbowling to where it appears their middles are huge but their heads and feet are the size of golfballs. You look over your shoulder at Bucky, who stands behind the living room wall with gun ready. You laugh silently and mouth the Greten’s at him. He puffs his cheeks out when he exhales and drops his gun, tucking it into the waistband at the small of his back. You slip your own knife up and into your sleeve.

Opening the door with a reserved but polite smile on your face, you greet the nextdoor neighbors. “Oh, hello! I wasn’t expecting company.”

The tall woman before you blushes slightly and dips her head. “Apologies. We were just wanting to stop by and introduce ourselves. We wanted to wait a day and allow you the time to settle in. I’m Tessa and this is my husband Christopher, we live right over there in the blue house.” Tessa points to the home directly beside yours with several windows boarded over and paint peeling off in some spots.

You smile brightly at the pair and introduce yourself before yelling behind you, “James, we have guests!” Turning back to the couple, you step aside and usher them in. “Come, come! It’s freezing out there.”

Christopher tries to decline, but you won’t hear of it. You and Bucky had already decided to meet and befriend this couple, so them showing up works out well. Their dossiers noted that they were a well-off family that knew everyone and everything going on within the community, but you can’t help but note the discrepancies you find between the surveillance photos taken a year ago and the people in front of you now. 

Christopher’s thinning hair and exposed scalp are covered by a thin toboggan that can’t be effective in this weather, and you see that Tessa’s dress is threadbare with nearly half a dozen patches when she takes off her overcoat. Regardless of the state of their clothing, Tessa offers you the small bowl she’d been holding in her hands.

“It’s my grandmother’s recipe. Everyone says it’s the best they’ve ever had!” She smiles proudly at this statement and you can’t help but grin back.

“Well, I’m excited to try them!”

Bucky walks into the living room, acting as if he hadn’t been behind the wall with a gun only moments ago. You escort Christopher and Tessa further inside and close the door behind them. Bucky walks up and shakes Christopher’s hand and introduces himself. 

“I am so sorry,” you begin, “but I haven’t started on dinner yet. I can whip something up real fast, though!”

“No, no, dear,” Tessa declines. “We didn’t mean to intrude – only wanted to introduce ourselves and then get out of your hair.”

“Nonsense,” you say. “The more the merrier.” You pat Bucky on the shoulder as you walk by him and into the kitchen. “Tessa and I will be in here. I’ll let you guys know when the food is ready.”

Bucky nods and holds his hand out to the couch, offering Christopher a seat. Bucky takes the armchair across from him (which has a loaded gun stuffed between the arm and seat cushion). With your hands full, you look at Tessa and nod your head towards the kitchen.

She starts to shuffle across the living room carpet towards you, her hands clasped in front of her. “We really didn’t mean to intrude on you and your husband. We just –”

You let out a hearty guffaw to mask your displeasure in correcting her and shake your head. “He’s my brother,” you explain to them. 

She stops where she’s at, standing behind the sofa next to Christopher. They share a look with each other before Christopher turns to Bucky. “Brother?” he asks.

You and Bucky look at each other with small grins. There’s no way you could ever pass for blood-relatives.

“He’s adopted,” you say.

“Oh, well in that case,” Tessa says as she continues her walk towards you and the kitchen, “I have a son about your age…”

***

Dinner was a simple affair, but the Greten’s seemed to enjoy it immensely. Barely any food remains on the shared plates in front of you, your guests having taken second and third helpings. You’re glad to see that they enjoyed the meal.

The conversations were very surface level ‘getting to know you’ topics, which is always the most tedious part of meeting new people. But laying the foundation for your life in order to establish your cover sometimes: like now, when you and Bucky can relax into an easy ‘sibling’ rivalry and rib on each other. It keeps everything lighthearted and doesn’t allow you think on how this would have played out differently as ‘husband and wife’.

The couple are in their 50s and have lived in this town their whole lives, so if there’s anything you and Bucky need to find out then they’re probably the ones to help with that. They have 5 children ranging in ages from 28 to 13, all living at home with the exception of the eldest son that Tessa is dying for you to meet.

You laugh merrily as you follow the Gretens back to the front door.

“You both must come,” Tessa is saying as she pulls on her coat. “Most everyone in town is going to be there and they need to meet you.”

Christopher slides the thin toboggan out of his pocket and places it on his head. “You both are going to be a hit: it’s been so long since anyone new has come around.”

Bucky stands next to you and puts his arm on your head, leaning on you as if you were short enough to be leaned on. You scrunch your face and slide out from under him, elbowing him in the side as you do it. “We wouldn’t miss it,” Bucky replies.

“Great!” Tessa claps her hand and ushers Christopher out the door. “Saturday at 9pm. Don’t forget!”

“We won’t,” you agree.

After a quick goodbye, you close and lock the door.

“They were nice…” you begin.

“But…?” Bucky continues.

“But…something isn’t adding up.”

Bucky hums his agreement. 

You both stand at the door, contemplating what could have happened to this sweet couple since the intel was gathered, but without the people in question there to ask (and it being much too rude to ask) there isn’t much point.

You walk away to begin cleaning the kitchen. Tessa offered to help, but you wouldn’t hear of it – after her stories of how hard she’s worked to take care of her family and this community, you couldn’t dream of accepting. Bucky follows you into the kitchen and removes the plates from the table. You work in silence, the camaraderie from dinner fading away into something else. Not uncomfortable, but nowhere near as companionable as the silence used to be in the beginning of the year.

You and Bucky used to lay in the quiet dark after sex. Clothes on the floor, sheets rumpled, hair messy. There wasn’t much that needed to be said that couldn’t wait until after you’d caught your breaths. But the peace that arrived after the frantic activities led to you falling asleep in his arms on more than one occasion.

But you were always alone come morning.

The clack of plates stacking on top of each other rouses you from your thoughts. You’d been mindlessly scrubbing dishes while Bucky dried, but you realize that your hands have been floating in the soapy water with nothing to do. You quickly pull the plug and watch the liquid form a tight spiral over the drain. The glug, glug, glug precedes Bucky as he clears his throat.

“You wanna…” You look up at him as he says this and see him nod his head in the direction of the living room. “Uh. Wanna watch a movie?” His arm scratches nervously at the back of his neck and you can tell he’s uncomfortable. Why would he ask?

“No,” you say. “No, I think I’m gonna go to bed. Tomorrow’s the first day at the facility, ya know?” You give him a brittle smile as you say this. Stepping forward, you make sure not to brush against Bucky as you slide past him and out towards your bedroom. You hear him release a heavy sigh behind you, probably glad that you didn’t take him up on the offer.

He may have only mentioned watching a movie together to be polite, but a couch and a dark room with Bucky hadn’t ended platonically the last several times it’s happened. The memories will probably prevent movie nights together for as long as you still have feelings for him.

Which will mostly likely be for the rest of your life.

@jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

Part 8

[nakanotamu]

Okay this is my I'm back update post I guess

I'm definitely going to change how I was using tumblr a little bit. Cohost was a great vibe and kind of opened my eyes to what was stressing me out on here outside of the like. Corporate stuff. I'm following too many people and have to cut back on accounts. I'm more interested in making longer posts and I don't really care any more that that's not tumblr's ~vibe~. What's new with me:

idr if I was on prog yet when I left but I was on prog and also stopped taking prog. I absolutely hated it it made me gain weight and grow hair in ways that were bad for my dysphoria and my anxiety got super bad. Did not remotely get the experience from it everybody else who posts about it seems to, 0/10 will never recommend

Stardom is maybe better than ever. Rossy leaving was a breath of fresh air and then after The Conversion a steady upward trend became a company that actually feels incredibly fresh and exciting and has been putting out banger after banger. I'm still only in March in my backlog but I follow what's current and haven't been this excited about wrestling in years.

I started following OZ Academy and in the next week or two I'm gonna start watching SenJo. SenJo has Mika Iwata and has been working closely with Stardom lately so with them becoming more accessible on Wrestle Universe I'm happy to give them a try. OZ seemed for a long time like the closest to my tastes after Stardom so I arbitrarily decided to actually start watching this year once I saw Unagi had shown up there. I've got a post in me about how OZ is actually the closest thing to "joshi DDT" out there.

I never actually started following Marigold. I think they have a fantastic roster but I hate Rossy so much and the stories - or lack thereof - they're doing there just make it wildly disinteresting to me. If Utami & Kouki ever start making out in the ring or even if they ever start doing an ounce of god damn drama I might still begrudgingly check them out one day but I'm not holding my breath right now.

I started playing Fallen London again & finally got back into Final Fantasy XIV in a big way. I found out about plugins! I think people should openly talk about plugins more. I was totally sick of tab targetting rotation based combat, to the point I couldn't play the game any more, but I found combat plugins to help with that and it turns out that was literally the only problem I had with it so I'm having a fantastic time again, more into the game than I've been since Heavensward.

So, yeah, hi. I might make a Bluesky at some point or something idk but for now I'm here again. Tumblr is draconian so ig I'll use my nsfw for that content again when it's relevant. I will probably be even weirder about wrestling on main bc I truly don't care any more but other than that これからもよろしくお願���します

[theflagscene]

I don’t think the number of shows in the Gmmtv 2025 line up will reduce but I do think most of them will be released in 2026. This is because they still have a backlog of series from 2024 part 2 that either have not filmed yet or are currently in production.

Oh, I doubt the shows will reduce either. But I wouldn’t be against it if they did, I feel like the poor actors/actresses are constantly overworked what with filming, hosting, concerts and fan meets. Also, there is a huge roster of criminally underused talent in GMMTV’s stable because everything stars the same two dozen or so actors and actresses. I’m not against seeing my faves yearly, but I could go a year without seeing OffGun together if that meant they give a headlining project to one of the secondary pairs, like AuoBoom or WinnySatang. Or maybe stop putting Mark in every other series—he is so overworked, the poor dude!—and let Louis, Fluke or Sing do more.

Also actually use their newly hired talent that they got from Wabi Sabi. They now have Ohm, Sammy, Soodyatch and BounPrem, use ‘em! So far Santa is the only one getting screen time and that’s because of last minute changes with Perth’s pair branding.

GMMTV is first a foremost a company and their bottom line is money, which fine, yeah, that is important to keep things running. But in the last few years because of the amount of series they’ve squeezed in, a lot of the writing has dropped in quality. They get you with a hook, but then the series is an absolute slog to get through. Most of GMMTV’s series I end up skimming and only watching the full episodes that have major plot points.

I am excited to see what’s the plan for the upcoming year (or two), because let’s face it, half of what they’ll show in a few hours probably won’t air until 2026 lol! They’ll just start filming in 2025, but I digress. As I said, I am excited but I’m also not against them slowing down and giving everyone more time to make really good shows instead of half-assed lackluster shows.

Fingers crossed we get some good stuff! Everyone get your bingo cards out, I know I already have mine 😉😉😉

[ladykailitha]

December Schedule

Hello! So it is that lovely time of year again when it starts to get colder and people start putting out Christmas decorations. And I write Christmas fics.

I wasn't sure I was going to do one, but Dragon Slayer is getting to the point where I can't share what I'm writing (it's VERY spoiler-y), so because I don't like only having three stories on WIP Wednesday, I am doing a couple of different things.

The first is cutting back to the usual four days a week posting schedule. This almost daily has been stressful for me, but I had so much backlogged, it needed to be rushed out in a gush for a bit and then back to it's normal flow.

Then next week, Of Butterflies and Backstrokes will release the rest of its story on Sunday, Monday and Friday with Caged Bird as usual on Saturday so that all my completed works will be out before Dec.

The reason for this is because I am planning two holiday events for you.

The first is the (fingers crossed) eight part Christmas long fic (name to be decided): Steve Harrington hates Christmas. Well, maybe hate is too strong a word. All his life it's been nothing but fake everything; even the smiles. Well, all except the tree. That's always real. This year, his dad's company is going the 'rent-a-tree' route and needs three of them for the office. There he meets Eddie, who with the little help of the Party and the magic of Christmas, teaches Steve what Christmas really means.

I will start posting it on December 1st. Then depending on how many chapters it takes, I'll either double up, releasing two a week or I will come up with some other schedule taking into account how many there are.

Then on the 11th, a special Twelve AUs of Christmas snippet. You'll send in a number between 1-12 and I'll write a little bit from an AU list that I want to do Christmas stories for but don't have ideas for full fics.

Plus, I have some trouble doing the whole short thing. So the goal is no more than 1500 words per AU. And if the number you ask for is completed, then I pick a different one. Then from the 12th to the 24th, I will release a Christmas snippet like an Advent calendar.

There will be no WIP Wednesday on the 25th due to it being Christmas day, but I will be back on 1st to spread some more holiday cheer.

As for the other stories Spellbound (Himbo Witch) and Dragon Slayer will alternate on Mondays, with The Au Pair Boy (Nanny) on Fridays, and Caged Bird on Saturdays as per usual.

Then when December is over with, Dragon Slayer will move the Sunday slot.

Happy Holidays everyone!!!