#operation: future domination

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Kickstarting a book to end enshittification, because Amazon will not carry it

My next book is The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation: it’s a Big Tech disassembly manual that explains how to disenshittify the web and bring back the old good internet. The hardcover comes from Verso on Sept 5, but the audiobook comes from me — because Amazon refuses to sell my audio:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

Amazon owns Audible, the monopoly audiobook platform that controls >90% of the audio market. They require mandatory DRM for every book sold, locking those books forever to Amazon’s monopoly platform. If you break up with Amazon, you have to throw away your entire audiobook library.

That’s a hell of a lot of leverage to hand to any company, let alone a rapacious monopoly that ran a program targeting small publishers called “Project Gazelle,” where execs were ordered to attack indie publishers “the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle”:

https://www.businessinsider.com/sadistic-amazon-treated-book-sellers-the-way-a-cheetah-would-pursue-a-sickly-gazelle-2013-10

[Image ID: Journalist and novelist Doctorow (Red Team Blues) details a plan for how to break up Big Tech in this impassioned and perceptive manifesto….Doctorow’s sense of urgency is contagious -Publishers Weekly]

I won’t sell my work with DRM, because DRM is key to the enshittification of the internet. Enshittification is why the old, good internet died and became “five giant websites filled with screenshots of the other four” (h/t Tom Eastman). When a tech company can lock in its users and suppliers, it can drain value from both sides, using DRM and other lock-in gimmicks to keep their business even as they grow ever more miserable on the platform.

Here is how platforms die: first, they are good to their users; then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers; finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

[Image ID: A brilliant barn burner of a book. Cory is one of the sharpest tech critics, and he shows with fierce clarity how our computational future could be otherwise -Kate Crawford, author of The Atlas of AI”]

The Internet Con isn’t just an analysis of where enshittification comes from: it’s a detailed, shovel-ready policy prescription for halting enshittification, throwing it into reverse and bringing back the old, good internet.

How do we do that? With interoperability: the ability to plug new technology into those crapulent, decaying platform. Interop lets you choose which parts of the service you want and block the parts you don’t (think of how an adblocker lets you take the take-it-or-leave “offer” from a website and reply with “How about nah?”):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

But interop isn’t just about making platforms less terrible — it’s an explosive charge that demolishes walled gardens. With interop, you can leave a social media service, but keep talking to the people who stay. With interop, you can leave your mobile platform, but bring your apps and media with you to a rival’s service. With interop, you can break up with Amazon, and still keep your audiobooks.

So, if interop is so great, why isn’t it everywhere?

Well, it used to be. Interop is how Microsoft became the dominant operating system:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

[Image ID: Nobody gets the internet-both the nuts and bolts that make it hum and the laws that shaped it into the mess it is-quite like Cory, and no one’s better qualified to deliver us a user manual for fixing it. That’s The Internet Con: a rousing, imaginative, and accessible treatise for correcting our curdled online world. If you care about the internet, get ready to dedicate yourself to making interoperability a reality. -Brian Merchant, author of Blood in the Machine]

It’s how Apple saved itself from Microsoft’s vicious campaign to destroy it:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

Every tech giant used interop to grow, and then every tech giant promptly turned around and attacked interoperators. Every pirate wants to be an admiral. When Big Tech did it, that was progress; when you do it back to Big Tech, that’s piracy. The tech giants used their monopoly power to make interop without permission illegal, creating a kind of “felony contempt of business model” (h/t Jay Freeman).

The Internet Con describes how this came to pass, but, more importantly, it tells us how to fix it. It lays out how we can combine different kinds of interop requirements (like the EU’s Digital Markets Act and Massachusetts’s Right to Repair law) with protections for reverse-engineering and other guerrilla tactics to create a system that is strong without being brittle, hard to cheat on and easy to enforce.

What’s more, this book explains how to get these policies: what existing legislative, regulatory and judicial powers can be invoked to make them a reality. Because we are living through the Great Enshittification, and crises erupt every ten seconds, and when those crises occur, the “good ideas lying around” can move from the fringes to the center in an eyeblink:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/12/only-a-crisis/#lets-gooooo

[Image ID: Thoughtfully written and patiently presented, The Internet Con explains how the promise of a free and open internet was lost to predatory business practices and the rush to commodify every aspect of our lives. An essential read for anyone that wants to understand how we lost control of our digital spaces and infrastructure to Silicon Valley’s tech giants, and how we can start fighting to get it back. -Tim Maughan, author of INFINITE DETAIL]

After all, we’ve known Big Tech was rotten for years, but we had no idea what to do about it. Every time a Big Tech colossus did something ghastly to millions or billions of people, we tried to fix the tech company. There’s no fixing the tech companies. They need to burn. The way to make users safe from Big Tech predators isn’t to make those predators behave better — it’s to evacuate those users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

I’ve been campaigning for human rights in the digital world for more than 20 years; I’ve been EFF’s European Director, representing the public interest at the EU, the UN, Westminster, Ottawa and DC. This is the subject I’ve devoted my life to, and I live my principles. I won’t let my books be sold with DRM, which means that Audible won’t carry my audiobooks. My agent tells me that this decision has cost me enough money to pay off my mortgage and put my kid through college. That’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means that my books aren’t enshittification bait.

But not selling on Audible has another cost, one that’s more important to me: a lot of readers prefer audiobooks and 9 out of 10 of those readers start and end their searches on Audible. When they don’t find an author there, they assume no audiobook exists, period. It got so bad I put up an audiobook on Amazon — me, reading an essay, explaining how Audible rips off writers and readers. It’s called “Why None of My Audiobooks Are For Sale on Audible”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

[Image ID: Doctorow has been thinking longer and smarter than anyone else I know about how we create and exchange value in a digital age. -Douglas Rushkoff, author of Present Shock]

To get my audiobooks into readers’ ears, I pre-sell them on Kickstarter. This has been wildly successful, both financially and as a means of getting other prominent authors to break up with Amazon and use crowdfunding to fill the gap. Writers like Brandon Sanderson are doing heroic work, smashing Amazon’s monopoly:

https://www.brandonsanderson.com/guest-editorial-cory-doctorow-is-a-bestselling-author-but-audible-wont-carry-his-audiobooks/

And to be frank, I love audiobooks, too. I swim every day as physio for a chronic pain condition, and I listen to 2–3 books/month on my underwater MP3 player, disappearing into an imaginary world as I scull back and forth in my public pool. I’m able to get those audiobooks on my MP3 player thanks to Libro.fm, a DRM-free store that supports indie booksellers all over the world:

https://blog.libro.fm/a-qa-with-mark-pearson-libro-fm-ceo-and-co-founder/

Producing my own audiobooks has been a dream. Working with Skyboat Media, I’ve gotten narrators like @wilwheaton​, Amber Benson, @neil-gaiman​ and Stefan Rudnicki for my work:

https://craphound.com/shop/

[Image ID: “This book is the instruction manual Big Tech doesn’t want you to read. It deconstructs their crummy products, undemocratic business models, rigged legal regimes, and lies. Crack this book and help build something better. -Astra Taylor, author of Democracy May Not Exist, but We’ll Miss It When Its Gone”]

But for this title, I decided that I would read it myself. After all, I’ve been podcasting since 2006, reading my own work aloud every week or so, even as I traveled the world and gave thousands of speeches about the subject of this book. I was excited (and a little trepedatious) at the prospect, but how could I pass up a chance to work with director Gabrielle de Cuir, who has directed everyone from Anne Hathaway to LeVar Burton to Eric Idle?

Reader, I fucking nailed it. I went back to those daily recordings fully prepared to hate them, but they were good — even great (especially after my engineer John Taylor Williams mastered them). Listen for yourself!

https://archive.org/details/cory_doctorow_internet_con_chapter_01

I hope you’ll consider backing this Kickstarter. If you’ve ever read my free, open access, CC-licensed blog posts and novels, or listened to my podcasts, or come to one of my talks and wished there was a way to say thank you, this is it. These crowdfunders make my DRM-free publishing program viable, even as audiobooks grow more central to a writer’s income and even as a single company takes over nearly the entire audiobook market.

Backers can choose from the DRM-free audiobook, DRM-free ebook (EPUB and MOBI) and a hardcover — including a signed, personalized option, fulfilled through the great LA indie bookstore Book Soup:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

What’s more, these ebooks and audiobooks are unlike any you’ll get anywhere else because they are sold without any terms of service or license agreements. As has been the case since time immemorial, when you buy these books, they’re yours, and you are allowed to do anything with them that copyright law permits — give them away, lend them to friends, or simply read them with any technology you choose.

As with my previous Kickstarters, backers can get their audiobooks delivered with an app (from libro.fm) or as a folder of MP3s. That helps people who struggle with “sideloading,” a process that Apple and Google have made progressively harder, even as they force audiobook and ebook sellers to hand over a 30% app tax on every dollar they make:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/red-team-blues-another-audiobook-that-amazon-wont-sell/posts/3788112

Enshittification is rotting every layer of the tech stack: mobile, payments, hosting, social, delivery, playback. Every tech company is pulling the rug out from under us, using the chokepoints they built between audiences and speakers, artists and fans, to pick all of our pockets.

The Internet Con isn’t just a lament for the internet we lost — it’s a plan to get it back. I hope you’ll get a copy and share it with the people you love, even as the tech platforms choke off your communities to pad their quarterly numbers.

Next weekend (Aug 4-6), I'll be in Austin for Armadillocon, a science fiction convention, where I'm the Guest of Honor:

https://armadillocon.org/d45/

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/31/seize-the-means-of-computation/#the-internet-con

[Image ID: My forthcoming book 'The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation' in various editions: Verso hardcover, audiobook displayed on a phone, and ebook displayed on an e-ink reader.]

[pinkmoonastro]

Pluto Aspects

Sun/Pluto: Dark sense of humor, attracts jealousy through the ability to learn quickly and be talented at many things, seductive, private life/double life, prefers to be in relationships, controlling, self critical, importance on achieving success and public recognition, denial about how social you actually are, obsessive, bouncing back from hardship unscathed, masking true feelings, lover of luxury, worrier, carrying the burdens of many, leaders, strategic, good at balancing multiple careers/streams of income, can work long hours, wiling to sacrifice for future gratification, beliefs being questioned/questionable, operating best with routine, helping the exiled, quiet power, domineering, leading others to the promise land, rags to riches, sharing nature, being taken advantage of, learning self worth, noticing the subtleties, standing in your power, alchemizing, appreciation of scents, restoring the balance and bringing justice, protecter, connection to night creatures, reverence.

Moon/Pluto: emotional rollercoasting, rough tides, tsunamis, delusions, misunderstood, living in the past, victim mentality, feeling intruded upon, enticing, protective, human lie detector, causing shock value with your thoughts, okay with not being everyone’s cup of tea, attracting stalkers/stalking others, a lot of haters and obsessive ppl, determined, my way or the highway, always on the go, quick witted, forgiving, misguided anger, easily triggered or triggering to others, a safe space for authenticity, youthful looking but quickly matured, problem solvers, appreciates luxury, high expectations, stressing yourself out, very strong ppl, the rock of their family, liking drama, needing to be more careful with the words spoken, lucky breaks, nurturing, creating a home that feels beautiful and comfortable, beautiful smile, soft spoken mesmerizing with your cadence, taking care of the things you own, making the old look new, hard choices, a few more restarts than most, word is bond, direct communication, seductive aura ✨

Venus/Pluto: Insecurities being obvious to others but hidden from yourself, ppl pleasing, nurturing vibe, great reader of social cues, bully/bullied, learning to understand and love your body, freedom through movement, talk of the town, being projected on a lot, resilience, cup half full mentality, big mama energy, ungratefulness, ppl trying to manipulate you through financial means, getting things taken away from you as punishment or literally being stolen from, independence, personality that grows on you, attracting jealously based on being the opposite sex’s ideal, player/overly devoted, values the connection to family, the type to plan the family get togethers, prefers to be coupled, generous and great at gift giving, hair that attracts idolization, fierce eye contact, ppl wanting to experience you without worthiness, personal space being important, careful with the people you shake hands with, being exactly what you want to be, near death experiences, night owl, protecter of children and the poor, solo traveler, taking no shit, knowing that it’s okay some bridges need to be burnt 🤷🏽‍♀️, child like innocence, friendships that stand the test of time, health conscious, healing others through food/herbs, high society, rockstar lifestyle might not make it.

Mars/Pluto: Okay with being cut throat, intimidating, power hungry, holier than thou, superiority complex, triggering insecurity in others while just existing, putting in work that will stand the test of time, legacy is of importance, it ain’t nothing to cut bitch off, knowing how to wow ppl, the defuser of situations, protecters of the weak, chameleon, popularity, rememberable first impressions, quick thinkers, great lovers, career focused, pressure to succeed, feeling you have to always be on your p’s & q’s, controlling lovers, the person others vent to, attracting ppl that feel entitled to your body/possessions, love/hate relationships, social butterfly, observant, bound by nothing, living in the moment, making the best with what you have, animal lover, would benefit from slower living, ingenuity, fashionable, hard headed, ppl trying to silence you, sprinkle sprinkle no bread crumbing is tolerated, lucky items/totem poles, optimistic, teaches lessons on how to be discerning, secret exposer, substance abuse, attempts to hold you back through evil eye, tunnel vision, seeing what needs to be said and saying it, willpower matched with child like vigor, friends and lovers that are protective over you, respected in your community/field, interested in the benefits of all, easily multiplying what you already have, water to wine type of vibe, relaxing when the work is done, knowing when to take breaks, shining bright in dark places.

Mercury/Pluto: realism view point, harsh truth, so relatable, knows better but learns the hard way, passionate speaker, musically inclined, before their time, emotional highs and lows, forgetful/selective memory, dark humor, appreciates the shock value, curse words are like icing, different just to be, thinking outside the box, creating lingo other ppl use, over explaining, paranoia, defending the vulnerable, saying what everyone is thinking, whistle blower, lovers of knowledge, constantly reinventing yourself, conspiracy theories, quick witted, solitude, dating outside of your race, cult leaders, judgmental, biting your tongue, pathological liars, self righteous, polarizing, sweet talkers, accent, making complex subjects sound easy, self critical, creating a lot of opportunity for yourself, taking journeys without a destination in mind, getting to the root of the matter, hard to reach, wise beyond your years, very knowledgeable about niche things, big dick energy, viewing something from multiple perspectives, feeling short on time/waisting time, organized, thoughtful, pouring into others, lending a helping hand/attracting those that want to help you, having to be extremely patient, smoking cigars for enlightenment, stuck on ppls mind, noticing the underlining factors, honesty off the charts, sending warning shots attacking, feelings of overwhelm by choices, defending your stance, being victorious against all odds, just so rememberable.

Jupiter/Pluto: importance on self image, Beyoncé- upgrade you, relating to others though music, greed, great investors, a need to be in first place, critical of themselves and others, perfectionism, requiring patience, materialistic, condescending, over indulgent, substance abuse, bad mouthing others, attracting leeching personality types, look but don’t touch, a lot of ppl have witnessed your transformations, co dependent, persistent, preferring not to be around the bush, learning when to walk away, big personality, topic of conversation, having to rebuild yourself repeatedly, opposites attract, quick manifestations, repeating yourself a lot, sustainable living, being able to balance many things at once, bringing offerings, community leaders, hard earned respect, learning discernment in friendships, solo travels, mentorship, feeling isolated, knowing how to use what you have, tongue like a sword, guiding the youth, transforming the mundane, unique style, taking the road least traveled, freeing yourself from sorrow, seeing the good in anyone, comforted by your bed, the same thoughts on repeat, warrior spirit, connection to horses.

Asc/Pluto: having your items end up in the lost and found, escapist tendencies, prioritizing relaxation, messy room, starting a new project before finishing the last, ppl misjudging your power, manners, sob stories/lack of accountability, fashionable, stand out in crowds, unique style, noticing the little details, valuing peace keeping, don’t mind switching things up and experimenting, self employed, viewed as lucky, ppl keeps tabs on you, being at the crossroads, rumors about your body/hygiene, protecters of their family, collecting antiques, building from scratch, learning to stay the course, loves celebrations.

Chiron/Pluto: learning only when the pain has gotten so bad, feeling like your always falling short even when you have what you perceived to want, intense feelings and relationships, what’s done in the dark coming to light, dismissive, ppl indulging in your hardships, helping others through your struggle, leading by example, survivors, learning boundaries, developing antonymy, life starting one way and ending up much differently.

[writeriguess]

I gotta say☝🏼 you are too good of a writer, I THANK YOU!!! Soo I got a request for ya! I was thinking about Katsuki having a major crush on reader(who secretly likes him too) trying his hardest to make her fall for him. He sees that showing off his "skills" just isn't enough, so he makes multiple attempts to flirt with her until he can finally see her become a blushing mess. (≧∇≦)/

Flirting Lessons

Katsuki Bakugo was many things—loud, brash, stubborn, and explosively talented. But smooth? That was a different story.

Unfortunately for him, his usual methods of impressing people—blowing stuff up, dominating in combat, and being the best at literally everything—didn't seem to be working on you. And that was frustrating as hell.

Because, damn it, he liked you.

You were different. You didn't fawn over his strength like others did, and you sure as hell didn’t let his temper intimidate you. You treated him like a person, not just the future Number One Hero. You teased him, challenged him, and worst of all, you didn’t even seem affected by him.

He had to change that.

So, Bakugo devised a plan: Operation: Make You Blush.

Attempt #1 – The Classic Show-Off

It started with what he did best—showing off.

During training, he made sure to push himself even harder than usual, making his explosions extra flashy, his dodges extra sharp, his victories extra brutal. Every time he landed a hit, he’d glance at you, waiting for that moment when you'd look at him with admiration, maybe even awe.

Instead?

You yawned. Yawned.

“Oh wow, another explosion. Shocking,” you deadpanned, leaning against the wall. “What’s next? You breathing fire?”

“The hell?! That was awesome!” he snapped, stomping over to you. “You try pulling that shit off, smartass!”

You smirked, tilting your head. “You’re already great, Bakugo. No need to keep proving it to me.”

For a second, he forgot how to breathe.

You—wait. Did you already think he was great? Did that mean—no, wait, focus. That wasn't enough. He needed to see that flustered expression.

Time for Plan B.

Attempt #2 – The Accidental (Not Really) Touch

The next time he saw you, he made sure to get close. Real close.

It started small. Brushing past you in the hallway, lingering when he handed you something, letting his fingers graze yours just a second too long. He even "accidentally" sat too close during class, his knee nudging against yours under the desk.

But did you react? Nope. You just gave him a look and went back to taking notes.

Fine. Desperate times, desperate measures.

One afternoon, when you were reaching for a book on a high shelf, he saw his chance. Casually, he strolled up behind you, caging you in with one arm as he grabbed the book himself.

"Need some help, princess?" he murmured, voice low and teasing.

You turned your head slightly, blinking up at him.

"Thanks, Bakugo," you said simply, taking the book and walking away like nothing happened.

He stood there, book still in hand, fuming.

Attempt #3 – The Nicknames

Alright. The nicknames had to work.

He started off easy—"Dumbass," "Extras," "Nerd." But those were normal, and you barely reacted to those.

So he stepped it up.

"Oi, sweetheart, you comin’ to train or what?"

"Keep up, babe, or I'm leavin’ your ass behind."

"Damn, you look good tod—" No, too much, too much! Abort!

At first, you just rolled your eyes. Then, slowly, he started catching it—the slight hesitation in your step, the way your ears tinged pink for a fraction of a second before you forced yourself to act normal.

Bingo.

He grinned. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?"

You scoffed, shoving past him. "Keep dreaming, Bakugo."

But you were blushing.

And he saw it.

Attempt #4 – The Direct Approach

By now, he was feeling cocky. If the nicknames worked, then maybe—just maybe—he could push it further.

So, one day, after training, when the two of you were the only ones left in the gym, he decided to go all in.

"Hey."

You turned around, towel around your neck, sweat still clinging to your skin. "Yeah?"

He smirked, taking a few steps closer until he was right in front of you. "You're into me."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You're into me," he repeated, tilting his head slightly. "I see the way you look at me when you think I ain't payin’ attention."

Your face remained neutral, but he saw your grip tighten on your towel.

"Wow," you said flatly. "Humble much?"

"Tch, I'm not wrong," he shot back, crossing his arms. "So just admit it."

You stared at him for a long moment before letting out a slow sigh. Then, with a small smirk, you leaned in—close enough that he could feel your breath against his skin.

"If I'm into you," you whispered, "then what does that say about you, Bakugo? Since you've been chasing after me this whole time?"

His brain short-circuited.

For the first time, he was the one caught off guard.

You? You just winked and walked away, leaving him standing there like an idiot, face burning hotter than his explosions.

Shit.

Final Attempt – Success

Days passed, and despite his failure, he didn’t give up. He couldn’t. He just needed to hit you with something you wouldn’t see coming.

And then, it hit him.

Late one evening, as you were sitting outside the dorms, enjoying the quiet, he walked up and plopped down next to you. No teasing. No smirks. Just him, sitting there, staring at the sky.

"You're really somethin’ else, y'know that?" he muttered after a moment.

You glanced at him. "That a good thing or a bad thing?"

He scoffed. "Dumbass, it's a good thing."

Silence.

Then, softer, almost hesitant—"I like you."

Your breath hitched. This… this wasn’t his usual cocky, over-the-top flirting. This was just him. Honest. Real.

And that was what finally did it.

Your face turned bright red.

Bakugo saw it. He smirked.

"Finally," he muttered.

"Shut up," you groaned, covering your face.

"Nah," he said, leaning back with a grin. "Took me long enough, might as well enjoy it."

And for once, you let him have his victory.

[misseverandever]

I CAN READ THIS, AND I WILL! LET’S GOOOOOOO!

omg was not on my 2024 bingo that I’m actually gonna read Melinda’s set for Anya

FRIST CARD: FOUR OF CUPS (the past)

that’s symbolizes Anya past implicating on her present, the cart indicates a need to experiences something new that brings joy and fills this empty space, something we see in our little girl eyes and i’m happy to see she’s doing good cuz in the past she certainly was a person that spends their days with their head down.

SECOND CARD: DEATH (the present)

The upright Death tarot card symbolizes transformation and the beginning of something new. It represents closing a chapter, leaving past experiences behind, we can think about Anya maturing and liberating from the trauma! Well in relationship (anya question) suggests the relationship may be stuck in a stagnant or unproductive dynamic, what we definitely can see, she tell his mother that he bullies her

THIRD CARD: THREE OF SWORDS (hidden influences)

The unseen problem huh? There’s a lot of them, well Donovan, Twilight, Operation Stixs… etc etc….

Whenever this card appears in a reading, it indicates conflict, disappointment, and misunderstanding (Well that’s definitely is the case), maybe Damian is definitely gonna be sad about why her approach to him, we know this is real cuz Damian already say before about people approaching him just because he is a Desmond and we know Anya have the same goal, but no worries is gonna be difficult but it can be resolved (they need to talk about this) !!!!

FORTH CARD: THE STAR (ANYA)

The Star in the upright position symbolizes hope, inspiration, and peace for the future. BUT is in the reversed position, so Anya reflects the feelings of hopelessness, confusion, and doubt as her navigate life's challenges and question circumstances. We see Melinda like that, and surprisingly Anya feel empty for her!

(So cute Anya being the star)

FIFTY CARD: TEN OF PENTACLES (the influence of others)

What kinds of external influences are dominating the situation? Well all of them! This card is important because it influences how others close to the Querent feel about the situation. AND GUESS ITS ALL RIGHT! This is a very positive card, and its positivity indicates that the path of challenges and difficulties has already been traveled, and now is the time to reap what is deserved. INNN THE RELATION WAAAAY (remember Anyas question not just because you know… i’m a shipper) is gonna be an harmony between them, whit a lot of happiness, cuties!

SIXTH CARD: ACE OF CUPS (what Anya have to do)

We see he is receiving, It’s often represents sadness, loss, and frustration, signaling difficulty in connecting. We know Damian is a difficult person, Anya have to deal with his feelings, is an important thing to do cuz if she don’t, they will not be together.

SEVENTH CARD: THREE OF WANDS (final results)

This last card is important because it takes into account all the six previous cards in its response. Here, we have an indicator of what the final resolution to the problem will be.

In this spread, the energy here is one of movement, so Anya cannot (and will not) stay still and she cannot try to handle everything alone.

The card indicates complicity, true love, and a strong connection. Sooo don't worry, as the frendship is real, and they will overcome it together.

SHE KNOWS!

SORRY MY ENGLISH IS KINDA BAD SO CAN YOU GUYS PLEASE FORGIVE ANY ERRORS IN THE TEXT? I was so exited to reed this, if you need tarot read dm me 🫶

[biteofcherry]

Not a proposal

part of Unbreakable Ties

mob boss!Curtis Everett x female reader

summary: A direct follow-up to this bit that started the whole universe of dark mafia boss Curtis. You're taken to Curtis' home - your future home and argue with him about his choice of a wife.

warnings: dark and soft-dark elements; arranged marriage; forced marriage; threats; dominant and possessive behavior; Curtis is too damn smart; also who doesn't love to live a spoiled wealthy life; brief mention of breeding kink

Author's Note: I had this scene in my head forever, but somehow couldn't get around to write it. Until today. Just sat down to it at morning and ten hours later here we are 😅

Curtis Everett Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Curtis Everett was a scary motherfucker.

For many, his position as the head of the mafia was enough to deem him dangerous and terrifying. His orders were behind many lost lives, disappearances, blown up places, companies going forever out of business.

Yes, that was enough to consider him scary.

But as you sat in the back of his car, eyeing him from the corner of your eye, you knew there's more to be afraid of.

Until today, you thought yourself to be disinterested in him and the aura surrounding him. Of course, being connected to the mob web, you were aware of who he was, how he looked, and how he operated. But you were rarely at the events he frequented. Your family was in the mafia, but not on the upper levels, not in the inner circle that would grant you such nobility.

Well, until he dropped the bomb with his decision to fucking marry you.

Out of all the available, better matched mafia princesses.

That term might suit you in the general way - a girl who was brought up in the mafia; but it wasn't a category you'd put yourself in as an adult woman.

The fact you were mostly on the outskirts of mafia social life was one of the reasons. All the more making the whole situation unbelievable, that Curtis would for some reason choose you.

This unpredictability, as well the fact he appeared to be two steps ahead with every move, made him that scary motherfucker in your eyes.

Lack of physical violence against you (aside from being tossed over his shoulder and carried to the car) was surprising, too.

Your father and uncle might have been good men when it came to treating women, but there were enough disgusting scumbags in the mafia who raised their hands on their wives or daughters. Who held them hostage in abusive households, while wetting their dicks in diamond-encrusted bitches that dared to look down on those scorned women as if they were better.

Yet, something told you Everett, despite being the law when it came to the conservative traditions gluing this dark world, wouldn't raise his hand on you.

Even as he hoisted you over his shoulder, he was careful with his force.

Oh, you hated him at that moment. So much. But a slightly breathless thought passed your mind when he put you in the backseat of the car.

That Curtis Everett was a man.

As primitive as it sounded. Shallow, too. Still, you couldn't stop that fleeting thought that no man before him was able to just lift you up.

Well, not the men you dated, anyway. Aside from a short fling with one of the young mafia soldiers back when you were barely eighteen. After that, your choices have been guys outside of the famiglia.

Nice guys. Charming, non-threatening, with safe passions and gentle hands.

For so long, you told yourself that's what you wanted. That's what was healthy and normal. You were still convinced of that, it's just that some part of you liked the brief moment of being manhandled by an imposing, lethal man.

A man sitting next to you in the confines of a heavy black suv, with his legs spread wide, tattoos crawling up his fingers from beneath the cufflinked sleeves of a pristine steel gray shirt paired with an equally dark suit.

In the small space of the backseat of a car you could smell his perfume. Pine and herbs and salty sea.

Funny, you would expect that the ruthless devil at the head of the most powerful mafia to smell of grime, gunpowder, and death.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed out the fabric of your dress over your knees.

"I really think this is the wrong choice." You spoke up, keeping your voice confident, but not daring.

You had the will to fight for yourself, but you were aware of the workings of the world, especially this criminal one. There were repercussions for everything and it'd be stupid to think you could get away with disrespecting the fucking Don.

You also liked living, so you had no intention of chewing through your own arm just to get free, like a caged animal.

Curtis' pointed a single finger at you.

"That is exactly why you're the perfect choice." He said, with the same calm, polite finality he was talking with at the dinner at your family's place.

"What?" You frowned, confused. "The fact I don't want it?"

"No. Because you are furious, but able to control yourself. Because, despite trying for many years to stay outside of mafia workings, you know how to play that game."

"If you want a smart wife, I assure you there are quite a few to choose from. Not every mafia princess is a spoiled, stupid bimbo." Which wasn't their fault, either. It was how they were raised.

Who knows, maybe if your dad was up in the ranks and more influential, you too would be groomed to be a completely docile, sweet mouse.

"Each woman brings different advantages." Curtis said, not the least remorseful.

"I don't come with many," you countered.

Your family was a part of the mob. Your father, his brother, your brother and your cousins. They all were on mafia payroll, though they dealt with a small part of the whole crime machine.

Their influence and wealth were slightly above compared to middle class civilians, but not much compared to mobsters of higher status.

Besides, it's not like Curtis needed more money. He had the most of all.

Power, too.

"I disagree." He surprised you with his simple but genuine statement.

"But let's continue this at home." It was that moment you realized the car had stopped and you reached the destination.

Home. Curtis used that word purposely. Not his place, not inside the house. He called it home, reminding you of the inevitable fate.

As you stepped out, the materialistic part of that future spread before you in its glory.

The mansion was impressive. The grounds surrounding it, as well. Not a monstrosity, but a surprisingly warm classic, like an Italian villa. You bet there was a swimming pool.

Damn, you loved swimming. And sunbathing. And sweet cocktails.

You shook your head, getting yourself back on track as Curtis' hand touched your lower back and nudged your forward.

Inside, the interior was welcoming and stunning. You half expected an overabundance of gold and kitsch, but was greeted by classic comfort. This was a place that could really feel like a home, not just a statement on status.

Curtis guided you to a spacious room in which a wall of windows was interrupted by a massive, stucco fireplace.

"You may claim to be insignificant or not belonging, but I see it quite differently." Curtis opened a small wine fridge in the custom made bar and poured two glasses.

He handed you one.

"I'm confident in my worth as a human being," you took the glass from him. "But I don't see reason behind choosing me for a mob wife. For you out of all!"

If some soldier working under a Capo wanted to ask for your hand, it would be more believable. More likely a situation to fight and decline, too.

But the boss of bosses staking claim? Unbelievable.

Inevitable, too.

"Hmm, the Don is usually expected to marry for alliance." Curtis agreed. He stood opposite of you, neither of you sitting down. "However, at the moment, I'm in no need to form an alliance. Don't need to support the power using outsiders."

"What I'm in need for is to strengthen inner structure."

You took a sip of wine, mostly to wet your lips and throat.

"Okay, I get wanting to marry a daughter of your own men." You nodded in return. "It provides them with honor and respect, while further securing their loyalty to you. Still, it doesn't-"

"Lower ranked can be the weakest links when it comes to loyalty, but your family has been spotless for many years." Curtis explained.

"I don't believe you made that choice just to reward my family." Curtis may have been an honorable man, as far as criminals went, but even he wouldn't make such a big gesture for an insignificant last name.

"I didn't." He took a sip of wine, and you couldn't help but watch the way his throat moved as he swallowed.

"Your family's so called reward will echo through all the ranks."

Curtis' eyes glinted something cold and calculating. Instead of being only scared, you found yourself intrigued by the plan he was weaving.

"For the others on lower level it will mean hope for their potential promotion in the future. That their daughters will marry to higher ranks, or sons given positions under Capos."

"Sons... you mean my brother will-"

"He'll be working under McGregor." Curtis confirmed, the corner of his mouth curved into a smirk. "And with that new prestigious position and connections, he will get the hand of Giana."

It was shocking that the Don himself knew of such minor, gossip-level things like a foot soldier being in love with Capo's niece.

"Moreover, it will shake the upper ranks." Curtis continued in the same calm tone, only his eyes betraying heightening triumph.

"And sometimes, when you shake a branch, bad fruit falls."

Shit! He truly was two steps ahead. Of everyone.

Your breasts rose up in a quickened breath. You had a certain weakness for intelligence. A dose of fear spiked anew, too, for it meant Curtis definitely had a counter argument to every point you might roll out.

"If it comes to it, you'll find out which of your ups are greedy and power hungry enough to betray you." You concluded with a nervous swallow.

Curtis only nodded, taking another sip of his wine. Taking you as his wife wasn't just a whim for him, even if some might see it as it. Actually, it served him well, if most of people remained clueless.

"As for you," the cold in his eyes transformed into something ravenous that almost made you take a step back, "before you list me names of other unmarried girls from lower ranking families..."

You really were ready to come up with some propositions.

"You're fit to play the game and be a rightful queen by my side. Smart, confident, brave. And-" he sighed with relief- "a woman, not a child barely out of age."

Pressing your lips together, you almost laughed at his clear discomfort at the prospect of marrying and fucking an eighteen year old. You'd give him a point for that.

"What about the part of me not wanting to be a mob wife?" It had to be the wine that made you ask so boldly.

Or, perhaps, you were slowly accepting the unchangeable fate and merely poking at the bear.

"I would call it bullshit." Curtis shrugged.

"Excuse me?" You bristled.

You took a few quick steps over to the coffee table to put your glass down, then braced your hands on your hips. Curtis didn't move from his spot, only turned around to face you.

"You paint this picture of someone who's been trying to cut ties with the mafia, but you're still here. Sure, we can discuss how you'd probably be chased and brought to heel, but-" slowly, he took another sip of wine, completely unbothered- "would you, really?"

Before you opened your mouth to retort, he continued:

"You're very smart and resourceful, know how to talk people up and make connections. If you were truly determined to get away from it all, you would. And we probably wouldn't find you."

"Honestly, it's possible we wouldn't even put much power behind that chase. A daughter of a lower ranking mobster, we'd do it for the sake of your family's name, but named the case cold after a few weeks."

Your pulse quickened with annoyance. At his words, but more at the truth he was revealing and which you knew at the back of your head. Because, if you put all your effort into disappearing, you'd fucking succeed. For-fucking-ever!

"Still, you stayed." Curtis' voice was a smooth blade, cutting off your armour piece by piece.

"You ventured outside the lines of mob's web with your dates, but never formed close friendships with those not from the famiglia. Perhaps you'll claim it was to keep people safe, but I wonder if it wasn't because you feel more at ease with those who understand this life. Who understand certain comforts, dangers, and... cravings."

Your blood rushed south, pooling heat in your core at the mentioned thrill.

"You went all bold with the degree unusual for most mafia princesses to choose, and I admire that. Yet, here you are, not looking for a job in that field. You upgraded your family's small business, but it's nowhere near what you're qualified to do."

Because you wanted to be different. You wanted to be more than just a mold everyone else was cast from. You wanted to sate your ambitions and stimulate your brain.

At the same time, you couldn't imagine not being at your family's cafe.

"Actually-" Curtis paused to put his own glass on the table and took a step towards you- "you don't seem to have been doing much different things than other mafia princesses."

"You work more, yes. You spend less, yes. You don't frequent many brunches and cocktails, only Carmella's monthly spa spree. But you eat only at mafia owned places. You participate in Fiore's and Layton's community cookouts."

You wanted to scream at him that you supported the community, nothing else. But was it the sole truth?

It was also a habit. And, somehow, a distaste for anything that wasn't from the world you knew.

You could also admit that you acted spoiled on rare occasions. You couldn't afford to buy only brands, or to splurge on three bags full at Sephora. And you were fine with it. Still, you bribed Sabrina at Claude's boutique, to put away for you that short, pale pink faux fur they had in the upcoming order list.

Curtis' gaze slowly slid down your body then up again. It wasn't lecherous, yet felt like a dark promise of devouring you whole.

"Maybe you don't like to be called that, but you are a mafia princess. And you can be swooped away by the mafia king."

"You have it all figured out, don't you?" You huffed, frustrated with losing all reasonable arguments, beside just pure spite.

"Yes." He didn't gloat, he simply stated.

"Well, you haven't even really proposed! No getting on one knee and offering a ring!" You blurted out, throwing your hands in the air.

Mirth formed soft wrinkles around Curtis' eyes. His mouth widened in a grin that balanced between amusement and a shark's bite.

"Because it's not a proposal."

No, it wasn't. Proposals had the option of refusing. He wouldn't accept yours. Already didn't. It was quite magnanimous of him that he even entertained the whole discussion on the matter.

"But if it matters to you so much-"

His hands gripped your hips in a flash. He lifted you, so easily once again, then tossed you onto the sofa.

The world spun, before your gaze settled on the light wooden beams crossing the pristine white ceiling. Then your eyes shifted to look at the man hovering over you.

He pushed your legs apart, kneeling on the floor between them. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small velvet box.

Your pupils widened, and breath hitched in your chest. Though you weren't sure if it was because the motherfucker was clearly prepared for an actual traditional proposal, or if it was because of the way he had you splayed under him.

Curtis opened the box and a setting of blinding stones sparkled at you. The ring was stunning. Possibly worth half of this mansion.

You gaped as he took the ring in one hand. With his other, he lifted your hand, which somehow felt beyond your control. Slowly, he slid the ring onto your finger, all the while holding your gaze.

"I won't ask if you marry me, because you will." Curtis rubbed your knuckles with his thumb.

His other hand moved to your chest. Fingers brushed over the swell of your breasts then circled your throat.

"In six months." He leaned down, his voice lowering into a purr as he laid each new tile of your fate for you.

"Official announcement comes next week. We'll host the annual Christmas party for the famiglia as an engaged couple. A few other events before our spring wedding."

He pushed closer. You felt the heat of him between your thighs. Your clit throbbed with interest. His fingers on your neck tightened slightly and your pulse quickened beneath his thumb.

"I won't fuck you until our wedding night. I'm traditional like that. Plus, I don't want anyone to have any doubt about me choosing you. There won't be any claims that I did an honorable thing after knocking you up."

There was a mention of condoms at the tip of your tongue, nearly rolling out in a begging tone.

"Because when I fuck you-" his breath tickled your lips as Curtis leaned closer- "you will take me bare. Always. In every hole. You will leak with my cum and swell with my child."

Your pussy clenched around nothing.

The gasp that fell out of your lips wasn't of an outrage, nor mortification. Curtis read it for the need that it was, his eyes igniting with victory.

He slid his hand up your neck, until his long fingers bracketed your jaw. He held you in place, with a dab of force to remind you that he would always be holding the reins, even as his mouth took your lips in a soft, sensually maddening kiss.

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

from the flames | b. blake

masterlist

summary: season three — to signify the newly recognised alliance between the sky people and the grounders, a celebration is held within polis’ market square. a bonfire, alcohol, and the bawdy pulsation of drums is a sure-fire recipe for a stimulating night. add a watchful bellamy blake and his dancing muse into the mix, and, well… i’ll show you the consequences of such a potent combination.

pairing: bellamy blake x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption/intoxication, sensual dancing, jealousy, sexual desecration??, mild possessiveness, arguments, bellamy speaking in trigedaslang (giggling and kicking my feet), dialogue-heavy, manhandling, mild angst, smut, unprotected p in v (do not), reader is short because i’m short, deal with it <3

notes: i haven’t recently been watching the 100 so the timeline and characterisation may be a little off. also, ik this took me a long ass time, but i’m gonna try and make sure the next two parts come out a little quicker <3 i love y’all!

word count: 2.5k

“People of Kongeda and Skaikru, tonight we gather as one, united by a common purpose and a shared future of alliance. Before us, this bonfire symbolises more than just a flame; it is a beacon of hope, an opportunity to cleanse old grudges and pain that has divided us for far too long.

“Let this fire signify a new beginning and serve as a reminder that unity is not our weakness, but our strength. Let it be known that from this day, we join not as enemies, but as allies, and anyone set upon spilling the blood of our allies is spilling the blood of us all. Let it be known: Jus drein, jus daun!”

“Jus drein, jus daun!”

As much as Lexa’s words intended to inspire harmony, the crowd massed below the second-floor balcony of the dominating tower she resided on reacted in any way but. Fierce declarations of worship were cried out; large fists were pumped in celebration; and misty clouds of brew and saliva were sprayed into the tepid night air.

All was well, for the first time since we landed on Earth.

“Happy Unity Day,” I murmured to myself, taking a sip from the metal cup in my hand. I was standing on the outer edges of the unruly crowd of dark, rugged figures, who were surrounding an unlit wooden mountain and raving as it abruptly burst into vociferous flames.

The monstrous tepee of sticks was raging at the centre of Polis’ trading square, an open area bordered with stalls and operating food vendors that infused the air with a salivating meaty aroma. Glimmers of light chipped away into the familiar starry night above and an orange ambience was cast throughout the square, seeming to blaze beneath the skin of those who orbited the fire.

It was a somewhat perplexing scene: to be together as one people, celebratingratherthan being at war with one another.

A pensive mechanic stepped in beside me, eyeing the mixed crowd of Grounders and Sky People.

Raven folded her arms over her chest. “Don’t you think the fact that the Ark originally had thirteen stations and the coalition now has thirteen clans is kind of…”

“Unsettling?” I finished for her. “Yeah. Probably best not tell these guys the story of how Polaris got blown out of the sky. Don’t want to give them any ideas.”

“Polaris… Polis…” she continued contemplating. “Think there’s anything equally unsettling about that?”

I looked at Raven. She looked back at me.

I sucked in a sharp breath—“I’m not drunk enough for this conversation”—and tipped the harsh contents of my cup down my throat. The liquid was molten in both its ferocity and colour and was infused with some potent earthly spice; it was a blow to the stomach upon consumption.

“Is that such a good idea?” Raven asked, judging me as my head craned back to capture the last few drops of throat-scorching goodness. “I’m all for pouring a glass when the occasion calls for it, but these people have stomachs lined with steel—what do you think yours is made of?”

I grimaced at the taste. “You tell me. You’re the genius.”

The roll of her eyes was deafening. “I’m just saying, they’ve probably spent decades perfecting their drinks to suit them, to match their tolerances. I mean, even that human fountain over there couldn’t handle it.” She nodded towards a cluster of barrels where a titan of a man wearing armoured shoulder pads and breastplates was hunched over, violently emptying his stomach onto the cobbled ground.

I swallowed my own stomach at the sight.

“I just assumed you wanted to spend the night somewhat differently,” she said, a sweet undertone of provocation twisting her words.

My brows furrowed, and I turned to face her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her lips twitched at the corners—never a good sign.

The thing was, I knew exactly what she meant. Her unspoken words had already been circling my mind for days, weeks, months even, increasingly accumulating with both heat and fervour.

As ironic as it was, I think it’s fitting to compare my situation to that of a star’s formation.

There I was, a delinquent sitting stagnant in a cold nebula of misery in the Sky Box, parted from my family and friends, sent hurtling to Earth to die, only then to have my cold, miserable cloud intruded upon by a fiery presence, a head of tousled brown waves and a pair of rich, dark chocolate eyes.

An awakener. An activator.

This intruder began filling my head with his words, his laughter, his brooding stare. The weight of his presence began to grow; thoughts of him consumed me. From the most surprisingly vulnerable conversations to even the tensest arguments, he had a heat inside me swirling and it was sweltering to unfathomable heights. It showed no signs of stopping.

Raven’s malevolent brown eyes were pointing plainly at something far behind me as if to answer my question. I knew what I would see even before turning around to look, but moronic as I was, I looked anyway.

Chin hovering over my shoulder, my eyes wandered through the scattered crowd of Grounders and Sky People alike that loitered the bonfire’s outskirts. There, sandwiched between Lincoln and an unoccupied trading stall, was a face that not only had my stomach contents lodged in my throat, but my heart as well.

Bellamy.

He was standing with his arms crossed, each one concealed beneath his distressed guard jacket. And although his stance screamed ‘Don’t talk to me,’ his face said otherwise. He and Lincoln were engaged in some high-spirited conversation, much unlike themselves (although the supply of drinks may have been to blame). Bellamy was speaking through one of his overconfident half-grins while alternating between gesturing to-and-fro with a single hand and tucking it back under his opposing bicep.

My chest was burning; the bonfire somehow must’ve seeped into my heart.

It should be stated here that when a nebula accumulates enough particles, it turns into a protostar—not a main sequence star like our sun, but something that holds the potential to be. At this point, the formation is at its most precarious. If a sufficient amount of mass is not acquired, the protostar will fail to stabilise and will cool into a brown dwarf, forever existing in the cold, lonely expansion of space as a reminder of what it could have been.

Bellamy’s head gravitated in my direction. Our eyes met through the asteroid belt of rugged figures between us. My breath caught in my throat, and I turned back around.

A reminder of what it could have been.

Sometimes I worry my insufficiency has damned me already.

“Oh, my god.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Oh my god, Raven, why would you put me through that?”

“In the hopes that you’ll finally grow a pair and do something about it,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink to conceal her smirk.

“About what?” Now I was just being evasive.

She let out a frustrated huff and folded her arms over one another. Her countenance was a reflection of impatience: the raised eyebrows, the slight downward tilt of her head, the pursed lips. I almost laughed at her theatricality; then again, I almost cried because I didn’t want the reason behind it to be true.

I wanted Bellamy Blake.

The confession was boiling inside me; it was burning the tip of my tongue, and I knew I had to let it out to cool. And if the words were never spoken to him, then they at least had to be expressed to someone else, even if I never admitted them in the exactness I felt, for the exact words would be so heinous, so—hedonistic, that if anyone were to hear them, I’d be thrown into lock-up for the rest of my days.

“Fine, I guess I’m… attracted to Bellamy,” I spoke slowly, cringing at my own words. Raven’s face immediately lit up like an overzealous Christmas tree, her smugly curved lips parting to no doubt release an incongruous stew of condemnation and encouragement, which I stopped before it could even start. “Anattraction that I am not going to act on, Raven; our friendship is rocky enough as it is. I mean,” I scoffed, “have I even told how we first met? I held a pocketknife to his neck our second night on the ground because he threatened to pry off my wristband in my sleep. And he actually tried! You know that tiny scar he has on his cheek? That was from me!”

“Yeah, sometimes I forget how much of a self-righteous dick he was for a while there,” Raven mused. Her face then screwed with confusion. “Wait, how did you two even become friends? Because when I came down, you were at each other’s throats every single day over one thing or another, and then out of nowhere, it was as if the slate had been wiped clean.”

Ah.

The day the slate had been wiped clean.

A thick blurriness blanketed my vision as my mind withdrew from the present. You know when you get run down with some kind of sickness and your mind gets all scrambled and foggy? Like a fever dream? That’s what that day seemed like to me. Too many unimaginable things had happened, too many emotions and losses were felt, and I’d only shared them with one person before.

“You still there?”

My gaze flickered to Raven momentarily. She was staring at me, half with impatience, half with concern. “Just—” I raised my hand slightly in front of me “—give me a second.”

I inhaled. One, two, three. And I exhaled. Three, two, one.

A vulnerable creature of some sort nestled in my brain, softening the tone of my voice as I hesitantly began, “It was the, uh, the day the Exodus Ship crashed. My dad was on it,” I said, my last words barely audible. “Knowing that he was gone was one thing, but watching the ship crash? That messed me up for a good while.”

Raven, taken aback, muttered her apologies. I just shook my head in return. I sucked in a sharp breath, forcing the memory into the cobwebbed corners of my mind, and then continued, “Bellamy had found me in the woods that night. It wasn’t exactly a pretty sight. I think that seeing me in such a vulnerable state forced him to set aside his asshole-ry for a while because he actually managed to… comfort me.”

I remembered the tone of his voice, so shockingly gentle yet hardened in his trademarked sort of way as he reassured me endlessly that I would be okay. I remembered the warmth of his body as I lay crumpled and sobbing in his lap on the forest floor, clinging onto his arm as if it kept me from plummeting into a bottomless pit. I remembered his hands, swiping away the thousands of tears that streaked my face, the hair from my eyes.

I remembered our brief conversation as we walked back to camp: “I won’t tell anyone. I promise,” he had said, to which I whispered, “Thank you,” and after a short pause, he spoke again, “We all need someone sometimes. I know we don’t have the best history together but… I can be that someone if you ever need,” and then, once more, with an unwelcome flutter in my stomach, I whispered, “Thank you.”

A small, bittersweet smile lifted my lips. My voice sounded distant to my ears as I continued speaking. “We still nicked at each other here and there after that—that tension between us has never really disappeared—but there was also this new mutual understanding. And somewhere from mutual understanding came a rough-around-the-edges friendship, and then friendship turned into something else.” I paused to recollect my thoughts. “Well, for me, at least.”

Between the moment I started speaking to the moment I stopped, my gaze had wandered sheepishly to the toes of my boots. I felt so exposed, like the outer layers of my being had been cracked open to reveal a part of my soul to a girl I hadn’t even known existed until two months ago. Suddenly I remembered why I didn’t drink often.

I stood awkwardly, waiting. The weight of my confession and vulnerability were looming above us.

Raven was quiet; she made no witty remark or tease. Her eyes had only softened with understanding, shifting back and forth as my words were mulled over in her brain. And it was only from her foreign silence that I realised what her next question could be: why don’t you just tell him?

I began, “I don’t want to ruin—"

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she finally interrupted, shaking her head as if to dismiss my unspoken sentiment. “The age-old ‘I don’t want to ruin what we have right now’. But what exactly is that?” Her eyes once again interrogated mine. “Because I’ll make it clear to you right now and say that what you two have is not just friendship. Come on. You and Bellamy?” She shifted her head to catch my drifting gaze. “Anyone with eyes can see something is there, but clearly, neither of you have a pair.”

Talk about tough love.

A harsh outflow of air exited my nose, and I pushed my hair back out of my face. Everything was much more complicated than I thought it was. Was I really as blind as Raven said? I would have already seen what she does if it were true, right? Did Bellamy really feel the same?

Am I drunk?

I glanced behind me once more, catching a glimpse of Bellamy tilting his head back to finish his drink, exposing the sculptured column of his neck. Heat flushed through my cheeks.

Christ. I couldn’t let this one go. There wasn’t a chance.

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked, still watching him.

An uproar of hoots and howls exploded throughout the square as the sound of drums and horns began to play, bringing my attention to the second-floor balcony of the Commander’s Tower where the noise floated down from. Drums pulsed with bawdy rhythm; horns bellowed with lewd backbone; a woman purred tribal vocalisations.

Bodies began swaying in disharmonious synchronisation around the bonfire, in pairs, in groups, individually. What tethered them was the raunchiness of their movements and the subtle carnality of their interactions with one another. I’d never seen anything like it; as I looked over at Raven and saw her similar intrigue, I knew she hadn’t either.

That was my mistake—to even acknowledge her in such a moment, especially after speaking about our previous topic. Her lips began stretching and stretching into a particularly wicked grin, and she turned to me. The devil was burning in her dark eyes.

Her answer to my question: “Give his eyes something to look at.”

part two

[leiandroid]

yakuza au

ok fam this au is now separated from my previous inohina yakuza/bratva au. had to fly the girls back to japan and they got a whole new backstory ! big wall of text incoming ↓↓↓

-- uchiha clan

a clan that was once powerful but was slowly eating itself from the inside. rife with internal conflict and distrust, key figures sought to strengthen the clan and each had an idea of how to bring about that change, though no two could come to an agreement on a single method. tensions amongst the ranks began to fracture the uchiha.

taking advantage of the power struggle, madara, with the hopes of seizing total control, ignites a spark that quickly turns into a bloodbath. many low level thugs employed by the uchiha flee the compound as each key figure and their loyal followers battle it out until so few are left standing it could barely be called a clan anymore.

the power vacuum left behind by the dissolution of the uchiha has created an extremely volatile environment in the crime world as different yakuza families seek to claim the uchiha’s previously held operations and territory.

-- hebi

sick of the endless politics and weakening bonds amongst the clan, sasuke left to forge his own path. as punishment for leaving the clan itachi takes his eye.

he had never expected that the power struggles within the uchiha would lead to a massacre. so when he heard about the bloodbath occurring inside the uchiha compound, he rushed home to save his parents from a grim fate. but was too late when he witnessed itachi kill them by his own blade.

sasuke quickly enacted revenge by killing itachi and when the dust settled and madara emerged as victor, sasuke turned his blade on him too and snuffed out the flame of the uchiha forever.

karin is an ex-cop that was the uchiha's informant within the police. she brokers deals and negotiations on behalf of sasuke. she is his mouthpiece, so to speak.

sasuke is also seeking two who were once allies/friends. suigetsu who had always dreamed to join the seven swordsmen's guild, and juugo a talented and brutal fighter who dominates the underground fighting scene.

together he hopes to form a small mercenary group for hire.

-- inoshikacho alliance / inoshikacho rengo

one of the first yakuza family alliances ever made going back generations. inoshin yamanaka, chosuke akimichi and shikanazai nara where the first of each clan to join the families into an alliance that has since become one of the strongest and long-lasting alliances in yakuza history.

at the age of 25 each member of the alliance is to have at least two children to ensure the next generation of the inoshikacho alliance grow up together and are trained to take on the mantle for the sake of the alliance's future. this also ensures that at least 3 generations are alive at any one time (if they don't meet an early grave that is).

the yamanaka run brothels, which act as a communication and information network. every girl is hand picked by ino or by trusted subordinates and trained in the art of seduction and information gathering. the yamanaka have large underground garden operations that cultivate plants for poisons with all kinds of effects and traceability, from the quick and painless to the slow and destructive.

akimichi control entertainment districts, money laundering operations and run the largest underground fighting scene. money flowing in and out of casinos and other avenues are fully controlled by the akimichi.

the nara are drug traffickers that control market price and distribution.

-- hyuuga clan / hyuuga kai

the strongest and most notorious yakuza in all of japan. their efficiency in all that they do make them a fierce clan. when the clanhead was found dead, many other groups thought this was finally the crack in the hyuuga shield and made moves to try and see if they could challenge their authority. but the second daughter stepped into place and ordered everyone in within a certain radius of the hyuuga estate dead.

if they thought hyuuga hiashi was a ruthless leader, hanabi, in one day alone, managed to put herself up as one of the deadliest and horrifying yakuza leaders in recent history.

their efficiency in the business and economics sector, as well as having ties within governmental and political bodies, makes them a very powerful clan with many branching factions reaching far and wide across the country.

someone, somewhere, always answers to a hyuuga.

-- neji hyuuga (tian)

after hizashi failed to protect the hyuuga leader's eldest daughter, he had to pay with his life in front of his only son.

watching his father commit seppuku and then swiftly beheaded by hiashi in front of the elders and close family, stuck with neji his whole life. he made a silent vow to exact revenge on hiashi. the bitterness in his heart made living amongst the hyuuga a slow acting poison. his hate for hiashi became stronger than his love for his father and he could never look upon a picture of hizashi anymore because his face was the face of his enemy.

neji bided his time for years and years until one fateful night he murdered hiashi in cold blood and fled the hyuuga estate. he made his way towards mainland china with some aid from a contact in the chinese triads. he disappeared for many years living amongst a guild of killers and started going by the name tian.

his next order of business was to find the abducted daughter that caused the death of his father and kill her himself.

-- hinata hyuuga (makoto)

the abducted hyuuga heir, taken from the hyuuga clan at a very young age. makoto lives her life as a simple woman, adopted by an elderly couple in the countryside, unaware of who she is or where she comes from.

when a 'chinese' man that bears an uncanny resemblance to her shows up at her cottage one day, calling her a name that does not belong to her, her life is flipped on its head and she finds herself plunged into the underbelly of society.

-- chinese triads / pirates

tenten is a weapons smuggler. though she is affiliated with the chinese triads, she smuggles and trades weapons for anyone that buys them, as her true loyalty is to money.

tenten's operations are done by sea and she has control over a small fleet of boats that answer to her. other than a port owned by the triads, she has claimed a small remote island as her home and base of operations.

she was also neji's contact that helped him sail the seas to mainland china after he murdered hiashi.

-- korean mafia

kiba is an animal trafficker. he acquires exotic animals for their ivory/fur/leather as well as selling them alive to the wealthy for their collections and keeps.

he has sold exotic birds to the yamanaka for their gardens. gathered all manner of cervidae antlers from around the world for the nara's collection. has captured the most venomous snakes known to mankind for several organisations, including certain individuals of the uchiha family. has also sold a number of species of animals for tenten for her island.

he is generally in good graces with all kinds of people/groups due to his connections and ability to acquire the even the most endangered and rare species in the world.

-- suna siblings

kankuro and temari own a small medical clinic. kankuro is a general family doctor. people come to him for check-ups and simple treatments and minor operations. temari handles all the logistics, and appears as the clinic's secretary. they have 3 nurses: matsuri, yukata, mikoshi.

kankuro is also a certified surgeon and operates on all sorts of gang members in the hidden basement operation room. matsuri has been trusted to help kankuro with these operations when needed. their practice offers complete discretion and the clinic has become off-bounds for any gang violence, even if rivalling groups happen to meet each other on the premises. they enter a truce for as long as they are within a certain radius of the clinic.

the brother and sister duo are a respected, unaffiliated group, and they also use their operations to get clues on their brother's whereabouts.

gaara was kidnapped at a young age and was tortured to the point that psychosis was induced. he is held in the same place as juugo and both are used in fights that many come to pay dearly to watch and bet on.

-- police

with his parents killed and taken from his home, naruto was raised by a gang who kidnaps boys to beat and torture, and train them into savage fighters. he dreamed for a life where he could see the sun and the sea, to eat a hot bowl of ramen once again.

when a police investigation finally bore fruit, naruto was rescued from the place. he was taken in by iruka, one of the cops, and eventually followed in his footsteps. he made a promise that he would find and save the redhead that had once clung to him down in those dark cells.

tsunade is chief of police. sai is a detective. lee is a chinese detective commissioned by the chinese police to go to japan to work alongside the tokyo metropolitan police dept to follow the chinese triads operations in japan. (or is it the hosting country that commissions?? anyway) a number of jonin from naruto are also police including: kakashi, yamato, genma, anko, etc etc.

-- sakura

sakura is the head of a large hospital that was once tied up with the uchiha who used her as an in for smuggling medical supplies. she was called upon as their emergency doctor to treat key figures when needed.

upon hearing about their massacre she felt total relief that the family threatening her life were finally gone. she thought she was free from them when a certain uchiha and 2 others showed up at her door demanding treatment.

she can't say she was happy to be back in such a predicament but it seemed that this uchiha didn't have a penchant for threatening her life as his family did. and for selfish reasons, she was okay with this arrangement.

-- the aburame

a family of assassins. their efficiency and untraceable methods make them a highly coveted group of hitmen whose services are sold to the highest bidder. the aburame have close ties with the yamanaka of the inashikacho alliance as they outsource some of their poisons from the yamanaka gardens.

even though the yamanaka, akimichi, and nara families formed an alliance generations ago, this agreement between the yamanaka and aburame remains a secret from the rest of the alliance.

the aburame are a completely neutral party and the yamanaka understands this. to pay for their secrecy and treachery towards their sworn brothers, the yamanaka accept that if a hit were ordered against their own, it wouldn't affect their business with the aburame.

if u read all this many hugs and kisses mwah

[tryingtofindava]

Hey! Just wanted to say I love love your stories! Also I was wondering if I could request Brian / hoodie x reader dating hc on the differences between their relationship before and after the events of marble hornets (if both of them work for the operator or slender if that happens in your canon version of the characters)

── 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 & 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐬

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

BEFORE:

You met Brian through Alex, a mutual classmate. Alex dragged you into his project, Marble Hornets, saying that he needed someone who wasn’t incompetent.

Being quite close friends after all, why wouldn’t you help your friend out? Maybe helping with sound, script supervision, or editing.

Brian was one of the cast members for the collage film, and you were the one who caught his eye almost immediately.

A MASSIVE DORK!! Hands down probably one of the geeky theatre kids… (live laugh love)

A huge reason he was apart of MH anyways, how could he say no to this opportunity to get the main lead???

He’s a very talkative person, so you two clicked almost instantly.

He had this confident, lowkey charisma.

Not overly flashy, but magnetic. You were instantly attracted to him. Like how a moth is attracted to light.

He was the calm to everyone else’s chaos. Where Alex was domineering and Jay was skeptical, Brian was warm and perceptive.

You two hung out a lot together. Everyone around the two of you noticing just how close you guys got in such a short amount of time.

When he wasn’t with Alex filming scenes for Marble Hornets, or with Tim doing everything and nothing at the same time. He was with you.

Long days of filming often ended with you and Brian laying on the floor of his dorm, talking about movies, your futures, and life after graduation.

He always said he wanted to make something that was real, something that really meant something.

And you believed in him with your whole heart.

On set, you shared headphones, whispered snarky jokes about Alex, and bonded over the horror movies you both loved. Brian would linger after meetings, offering to walk you home.

But the tension? Electric.

Jay and Tim noticed. Hell, even Alex once muttered, “Are you two gonna hook up or just flirt around it for another month?”

He never tried anything. Never crossed a line.

Brian is very in tune with his feelings, and when he starts craving to be around you, and the fluttering feeling his his stomach when you’re with him, he knows immediately he’s fallen for you.

If may take him awhile to actually initiate his feelings and goes for, but when he does he gets slightly nervous which is unusual for the boy.

The night air was heavy with late summer humidity, the kind that clung to your skin and made your shirt stick to your back. Filming had gone later than expected… again.

Alex had been in a mood for weeks now, the glasses wearing boy getting weirder every time you saw him. Tim had vanished halfway through the shoot. Jay and Seth were too busy messing with the boom mic to care. All of them leaving the second everything they needed to film was done.

But Brian?

Brian had waited for you.

“Let me walk you home,” he’d said, slinging the camera bag over one shoulder, already falling into step beside you like it was second nature. And it kinda was.

Now you were walking together under a dull halo of streetlight. Campus was quiet at this hour. Most students were asleep or drunk. The only sounds were your footsteps and the occasional cicada scream in the trees overhead.

Brian kept glancing your way when he thought you weren’t looking. But you noticed. He was quiet, quieter than he usually was. The boy was normally very talkative.

He wasn’t in a bad mood, he was just pondering about something. “You okay?” you finally ask, voice soft. He blinked. “Yeah. Just tired.”

You stopped at the crosswalk, the orange hand flashing at you. Brian looked both ways, no cars. He stepped into the road, then turned back, noticing you hadn’t moved.

“Afraid of jaywalking now?” he teased, offering his hand with a lazy smile.

You rolled your eyes but took it. His hand was warm. Callused. Familiar. You didn’t let go even after you crossed the road. Neither did he.

There was a long pause. The kind that dared to be something more. “I’ve been meaning to say something,” Brian said suddenly, his voice a little rough. “Before Alex spirals any further and this whole thing crashes.”

You looked at him, heart speeding up. He wasn’t looking at you. Just ahead. Like he couldn’t quite face it. “I like you,” he murmured quietly. “Like… for a while now. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want it to get weird with the crew, or mess up the one good thing I’ve got going right now.”

You stopped walking.

He noticed immediately, turning to face you, his eyes were wide, nervous in a way you’d never seen before. “I just… I needed you to know. In case…Hell, I don’t know. In case everything goes to shit, which it probably will knowing Alex.”

You stepped closer, squeezing his hand slightly. He looked like he wanted to run and stay in the same breath. “So say it again,” you said.

“What?”

“That you like me.”

Brian swallowed. “I like you.”

You smiled, heart thudding. “Good. Because I like you too.”

He laughed quietly, he’d never felt so relieved in his entire life. The sound warmed your chest.

And then, finally, after months of the both of you dancing around your obvious attraction for each other, you kissed him. On the sidewalk. Beneath a flickering streetlight. His hands still sticky with camera sweat. Your lips tasted like sugar and static, and the world felt still for just a moment.

When you pulled back, he kept your forehead pressed to his.

“I should’ve done that weeks ago,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you agreed, smiling. “But I’m glad you waited until now.”

You didn’t notice the static buzz that hung in the air that night. Or the tall figure in the trees behind you. Not yet.

Tonight was still just yours.

He walks you home after that first kiss. Doesn’t try to come inside. Just holds your hand like it’s the most important thing in the world.

You two take it steady the first few weeks of the relationship, You go on lowkey dates, coffee runs between shoots, library naps, horror movie marathons. He doesn’t rush anything. He savors you.

Keeping the relationship quiet at first, the only other person who knew was Tim. But it quickly becomes obvious that you two were a thing.

Brian is very affectionate and playful. Think late night sneak outs for snacks, inside jokes shared between you two, and him insisting you take his hoodie when it got slight cold one day during filming. Flirty but never pushy.

Your relationship with Brian was defined by hope, laughter, and future plans.

You were a couple that everyone assumed would make it long term. You did too.

But you can’t have everything you want I suppose.

DURING OPERATOR INFLUENCE:

The static started small at first, a small buzzing in his head. But over time it got louder and stronger. He’s look everywhere for where it was coming from.

“Do you hear that?” He’d glance over at you, both laying in his bed. “Hear what?” You’d raise a brow at the boy. “Never mind.” Brian mutters.

He’d space out sometimes, staring absentmindedly during dates. His old self was visibly leaving him, and you noticed right away. You just gave him some time, hoping he’d bounce back eventually.

He started getting distant after Alex’s breakdowns and erratic behavior. You tried to help, but he was already slipping.

That’s around the time he got his own camcorder. He grew an emotional attachment to the small device.

Brian began filming you when you weren’t looking. “For the archive,” he always say. You thought it was cute. But later, he’d rewatch those tapes obsessively. His eyes trained on the tall figure that was always in the background of each and every take.

He starts recording everything. It quickly became an obsession. The tree line, outside his window out night when you were staying over… He filmed you even more though.

What you thought was a cute quirk, turned into something that made your stomach churn every time you saw him pointing the camcorder in goth direction. He’d play it off with a smile, but there was something hollow in his eyes.

He got more paranoid, always glancing over his shoulder. Like he was waiting for something to appear…

As the paranoid grew, so did his protectiveness over you. Walking you back to your dorm room religiously, standing closer, always checking in with you when he wasn’t around.

He doesn’t tell you what’s happening. Not now, not ever. He thinks he can beat it. That it’ll go away. And if it doesn’t… at least you’ll be safe. That’s what matters.

And then he went off grid, you barely heard from him anymore… maybe a text here and there but other than that radio silence.

You didn’t know where he was, you didn’t know when he’d come back. So you made a big decision and broke up with him over text.

AFTER:

You and Brian were together during the worst of it… The Marble Hornets crew unraveling, Alex’s descent, the Operator’s growing presence in his life. You tried to hold onto each other while the world burned. But eventually, it all snapped.

That’s what you told yourself every time your mind wanders back to Brian Thomas. It was for the best you left him, he had changed during your relationship and you couldn’t keep up with his paranoia…

You haven’t seen him in years. You don’t know if he’s alive. You think maybe that’s for the best. He knows you think that.

His alter Hoodie doesn’t think of himself as Brian at all. That name is a grave when he’s in Hoodie’s mindset.

He believes the breakup saved you. He still does. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t ache with it. The kind of ache that’s quiet. Constant and permanent.

He check in sometimes, that’s all. Just without your knowledge…

He doesn’t haunt your life, not actively. He’s not a ghost. He’s more like a shadow you never quite notice. A door left unlocked that you swore you closed.

He knows your address. Has for years. Even after you moved out your dorm.

He’s been in your home. You never saw him. He always leaves it untouched…

He checks your social media (under fake names). Watches the people you spend time with. Tracks their cars, memorizes license plates. Not out of jealousy. Out of instinct.

He replays old tapes of you constantly. Not just for comfort, sometimes to remember who he used to be. Who you made him.

Has a little crisis if you move on and find someone else. And may or may not keep tabs on them too…

He once sent you a tape. Unlabeled. It was just static for three minutes, then a collage of some videos of you and the old Brian. From years ago. You haven’t told anyone about it. You keep it in the bottom of your drawer.

Hoodie has stood on your porch at 3AM more times than he can count. Wearing the same hoodie you patched for him in college. Clutching a note he’ll never leave. Listening to the quiet hum of your life without him.

Though Hoodie is only Brian’s alter, he craves you the same way Brian did…

He doesn’t let himself imagine a reunion. Not really. He thinks if you saw him now you’d pity him, and he hates the thought of that.

But he hated it even more when Jay came knocking on your door along with his own camcorder and Tim. Leading the Slender sickness right to you by getting so close.

Then you started helping them trying to find the truth? He was furious.

He started slipping you some of Tim’s pills to help while you were out the house on your leftovers, he’s helping you really.

Still, he carries your memory like a relic.

The love didn’t fade. It just rotted, the way flowers wilt when you press them between pages and forget to look again.

[us-cj]

From General Mike Flynn

ATTENTION!

Update on the War in Eastern Europe (the other war).

My overall assessment is that this war falls into the category of stupid war. It is costly in terms of human lives & for the people of the U.S., it has cost us over $500B (yes, that is a capital B!). So much destruction & several 3rd/4th order consequences that have potential existential long term consequences for America.

That said, looking back before looking forward, we totally screwed up by not bringing Russia into a Eurasian hemisphere post the collapse of the former Soviet Union. Not only a massively strategic & costly error but the political warmongers in our CIA & other components of the national security & M-I complexes along with many puppets in Congress over decades have led America into the “valley of the shadow of death”, a virtual abyss with grave historical consequences.

So many lies, so much deception, so many monumental mistakes by so-called political & diplomatic experts. The only thing they are expert at is continuing to promote more war & driving potential partners & allies into the arms of our most dangerous adversaries.

So what:

Ukraine is experiencing a security & military collapse (never mind a totally corrupt govt).

That said, the catastrophic shortage of personnel within Ukraine’s Armed Forces has reached a breaking point. It is a desperate situation. It exposes a hollowing out of Ukraine’s military & security apparatus. The Ukrainian military leaders remaining are now having to throw their very best troops into conventional roles. Something unheard of in the past. This along with many other indicators of weakened political leaders & a devastated military are only outmatched by a civilian population that is weary and wants this madness to end. They are tired of the destruction, death & their children’s and nation’s future.

Key Perspectives:

1. Severe manpower Crisis

2. Morale deficiencies across the board

3. Untenable equipment losses

4. Multiple battlefield operating systems (Intel, command and control, targeting, etc) diluted or ineffective/non-operational.

5. Etc.

The long term effects for Ukraine’s stability are severe.

Conclusion:

A completely new PEACE & PARTNERSHIP approach must very seriously be considered. America must consider what is best for America. We can completely withdraw or we can be the bigger, more magnanimous of participating (LEADING) nations and influence, cause or force the issue of a major outreach to Russia (the largest holder of nuclear arms on the planet) and be prepared to offer and discuss long term guarantees (no more lies and deception).

The larger, more looming question & something directly impacting this war is:

How do we draw Russia out from under the umbrella of China. East of the Ural Mountains, China is already dominating the terrain. Their people are moving rapidly to take over & control massive energy & rare earth element resources. As China also seeks to destroy us right here at home with deviant activities by applying bio-weapons like COVID, deadly fentanyl attacks, subversive activities on our streets. China knows they must have the A$$ to fight a long physical war if one were to break out (until China feels they are able to take over the USofA, they need strategic resources and Russia has those resources).

Yes, Russia is a communist nation, but it has far more history looking west than it does east.

There could easily be a global meltdown and we must stop thinking conventionally and we must stop listening to the warhawks and other “media talking heads.”

We don’t need short term transactional fixes, we need long term solutions that see a 21st century that fights for peace to be the norm & not the aberration.

For all those name callers who will say I’m a Putin puppet, FO! Come up with a better solution.

There are other objectives of what I describe here, but we need to be thinking critically, long-term & what is in the best interests of AMERICA.

[possiblylando]

HTP; Ghoul Lore Audio Log Spoilers/Analysis/Discussion

Dude holy shit uh Spoiler barrier and then all in cause

Okay Okay fuck where to begin this episode literally changes everything okay I guess lets start at the Draught. Based on what we know about this unique Draught, it means Grimal might not be the ghoul?? If the ghoul potentially has this Draught (which I vaguely doubt will come into play in this arc specifically) it could mean anyone could be the ghoul so long as they were only in a place without 1 other person. Atleast I assume so because if they could use this high power Dominate on multiple people simultaneously then this whole operation would be cooked from the start. While I was very mixed on the idea of Gloria as the Ghoul previously, I think its far more possible now. This high level Dominate (Lets assume 4 dots) This ghoul could have access to Rationalize or Forgetful Mind, Or any others in that category. If Grimal is was being commanded to act that could explain why everything is so suspicious around her. Have someone else go in and take care of Occam while the ghoul sits with someone else and has the perfect alibi. So now I think the possibilities for Ghoul are; 1. Grimal is the Ghoul (The Draught is a red herring and simply setting up something in a future arc instead of this current one.) 2. Gloria is the Ghoul & has this Draught; this is based more on Vibes and the fact Gloria doesn't actually do too much in part 1 outside checking Occam's pulse. If she's the ghoul and commanded someone (Namely Grimal) to attack Occam, she would have a vested interested in knowing if the attack was successful. Okay thats about it for my thoughts on the Ghoul right now. Onto the far more important bit of this episode. Because this was not simpyl a Ghoul Lore episode, THIS WAS A MARCKUS LORE EPISODE TROJAN HORSE.

But before the deep Marckus shit- Markus was 12 in 1988. Door was present and seems to be in his 20s or 30s. Boy has not been born yet and Boy is 11 in 2006 so he was born in like 1995. So I think its reasonable to place door as being in his 20s here, having Boy in his 30s. This means Door is probably 8-15? (Maybe) years older than Markus which would make him roughly 40 in modern day. D does look markedly younger in these photographs but I'm not sure if thats art style or actually because he's aged. It does put a damped on my thoughts about D being MUCH older than he seems. But we do know his previous Ex-Wife Rozalia (The Ghoul) is roughly 108 in modern day. It seems to be implied D had met & later married her after she was pretty deep into being a ghoul so there probably was a large age gap already. But it still kinda stands out to me. D is very afraid or Marckus becoming a Ghoul because he sees himself in him. I don't necessarily think D was a ghoul (thought it could explain his weird age). Thought all this might be confirmation Bias as in the more recent episodes D's hair has been more consistently colored with grey streaks when compared to earlier episodes where it was more like a sheen in his hair. It just feels like D has done too much to only be roughly in his 60-70s and very fit. While older people can certainly be in good physical condition it doesnt seem like D has suffered any real negatives from aging? He's MINIMUM 18 years older than Door who is in his 40s but again that's a low ball. I don't know. Alright time for the Marckus stuff. So its rather basic background knowledge that HTP's main cast is inspired by the cast of Warhammer 40k TTS. Now up until this point I had thought it was mostly a baseline thing. Only really carrying over personalities and vague relationships between characters while having the freedom to change them with that background knowledge. But based on this episode it appears to be more relevant.

Whatever the fuck Marckus managed to summon, It was something not even D understood. This is in directly parallel with 40k's Magnus who Marckus is based on. For those who don't know about 40k lore (I don't blame you its VERY long.), Magnus is a Primarch (Emperor's special kids) who ended up being manipulated by 40k's god of trickery and ended up fucking up literally everything because of his lack of thinking things through and the influence of said trickster god. Gods in 40k are manifestations of humanity (and alien's) collective subconscious minds and often take the forms of their most volatile negative aspects. They're entited formed from 'The Warp' which is the source of magic in 40k. Magnus is very naturally tuned to the warp. Almost all the issues in TTS (and 40k) relating to Magnus are because he has a MASSIVE complex. He craves parental affection and affirmation but in TTS every time he thinks hes denied it, some shit goes wrong. When he actually gets that parental affection (Earlier season 2 iirc) he mellows out alot until finding out the only reason the emperor (D's counterpart) brought him back was so that Magnus would act as a pawn and decoy in his 5d chess game to deal with political enemies. Magnus is not happy about this. With all this background information, whats present in this episode slots into place. Marckus seems to have forgotten about the incident yes. The better case is that he blocked out the memory due to trauma. But the worse possibility is that a seed was planted. One that's been festering within him since that time. D may be planning to tell Marckus everything in a few months, But I get the feeling before those months are up, That seed will sprout. In one form or another, Marckus will be given the option to go down the same path of darkness as his predecessor. I don't think Marckus would go for such a path without a push but the one providing that push might be D, even if unintentionally. D is so focused on the forest that he's missing the trees.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

No, “convenience” isn’t the problem

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

Using Amazon, or Twitter, or Facebook, or Google, or Doordash, or Uber doesn't make you lazy. Platform capitalism isn't enshittifying because you made the wrong shopping choices.

Remember, the reason these corporations were able to capture such substantial market-share is that the capital markets saw them as a bet that they could lose money for years, drive out competition, capture their markets, and then raise prices and abuse their workers and suppliers without fear of reprisal. Investors were chasing monopoly power, that is, companies that are too big to fail, too big to jail, and too big to care:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

The tactics that let a few startups into Big Tech are illegal under existing antitrust laws. It's illegal for large corporations to buy up smaller ones before they can grow to challenge their dominance. It's illegal for dominant companies to merge with each other. "Predatory pricing" (selling goods or services below cost to prevent competitors from entering the market, or to drive out existing competitors) is also illegal. It's illegal for a big business to use its power to bargain for preferential discounts from its suppliers. Large companies aren't allowed to collude to fix prices or payments.

But under successive administrations, from Jimmy Carter through to Donald Trump, corporations routinely broke these laws. They explicitly and implicitly colluded to keep those laws from being enforced, driving smaller businesses into the ground. Now, sociopaths are just as capable of starting small companies as they are of running monopolies, but that one store that's run by a colossal asshole isn't the threat to your wellbeing that, say, Walmart or Amazon is.

All of this took place against a backdrop of stagnating wages and skyrocketing housing, health, and education costs. In other words, even as the cost of operating a small business was going up (when Amazon gets a preferential discount from a key supplier, that supplier needs to make up the difference by gouging smaller, weaker retailers), Americans' disposable income was falling.

So long as the capital markets were willing to continue funding loss-making future monopolists, your neighbors were going to make the choice to shop "the wrong way." As small, local businesses lost those customers, the costs they had to charge to make up the difference would go up, making it harder and harder for you to afford to shop "the right way."

In other words: by allowing corporations to flout antimonopoly laws, we set the stage for monopolies. The fault lay with regulators and the corporate leaders and finance barons who captured them – not with "consumers" who made the wrong choices. What's more, as the biggest businesses' monopoly power grew, your ability to choose grew ever narrower: once every mom-and-pop restaurant in your area fires their delivery drivers and switches to Doordash, your choice to order delivery from a place that payrolls its drivers goes away.

Monopolists don't just have the advantage of nearly unlimited access to the capital markets – they also enjoy the easy coordination that comes from participating in a cartel. It's easy for five giant corporations to form conspiracies because five CEOs can fit around a single table, which means that some day, they will:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/18/cursed-are-the-sausagemakers/#how-the-parties-get-to-yes

By contrast, "consumers" are atomized – there are millions of us, we don't know each other, and we struggle to agree on a course of action and stick to it. For "consumers" to make a difference, we have to form institutions, like co-ops or buying clubs, or embark on coordinated campaigns, like boycotts. Both of these tactics have their place, but they are weak when compared to monopoly power.

Luckily, we're not just "consumers." We're also citizens who can exercise political power. That's hard work – but so is organizing a co-op or a boycott. The difference is, when we dog enforcers who wield the power of the state, and line up behind them when they start to do their jobs, we can make deep structural differences that go far beyond anything we can make happen as consumers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

We're not just "consumers" or "citizens" – we're also workers, and when workers come together in unions, they, too, can concentrate the diffuse, atomized power of the individual into a single, powerful entity that can hold the forces of capital in check:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/10/an-injury-to-one/#is-an-injury-to-all

And all of these things work together; when regulators do their jobs, they protect workers who are unionizing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

And strong labor power can force cartels to abandon their plans to rig the market so that every consumer choice makes them more powerful:

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

And when consumers can choose better, local, more ethical businesses at competitive rates, those choices can make a difference:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/10/view-a-sku/

Antimonopoly policy is the foundation for all forms of people-power. The very instant corporations become too big to fail, jail or care is the instant that "voting with your wallet" becomes a waste of time.

Sure, choose that small local grocery, but everything on their shelves is going to come from the consumer packaged-goods duopoly of Procter and Gamble and Unilever. Sure, hunt down that local brand of potato chips that you love instead of P&G or Unilever's brand, but if they become successful, either P&G or Unilever will buy them out, and issue a press release trumpeting the purchase, saying "We bought out this beloved independent brand and added it to our portfolio because we know that consumers value choice."

If you're going to devote yourself to solving the collective action problem to make people-power work against corporations, spend your precious time wisely. As Zephyr Teachout writes in Break 'Em Up, don't miss the protest march outside the Amazon warehouse because you spent two hours driving around looking for an independent stationery so you could buy the markers and cardboard to make your anti-Amazon sign without shopping on Amazon:

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

When blame corporate power on "laziness," we buy into the corporations' own story about how they came to dominate our lives: we just prefer them. This is how Google explains away its 90% market-share in search: we just chose Google. But we didn't, not really – Google spends tens of billions of dollars every single year buying up the search-box on every website, phone, and operating system:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

Blaming "laziness" for corporate dominance also buys into the monopolists' claim that the only way to have convenient, easy-to-use services is to cede power to them. Facebook claims it's literally impossible for you to carry on social relations with the people that matter to you without also letting them spy on you. When we criticize people for wanting to hang out online with the people they love, we send the message that they need to choose loneliness and isolation, or they will be complicit in monopoly.

The problem with Google isn't that it lets you find things. The problem with Facebook isn't that it lets you talk to your friends. The problem with Uber isn't that it gets you from one place to another without having to stand on a corner waving your arm in the air. The problem with Amazon isn't that it makes it easy to locate a wide variety of products. We should stop telling people that they're wrong to want these things, because a) these things are good; and b) these things can be separated from the monopoly power of these corporate bullies:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/08/divisibility/#technognosticism

Remember the Napster Wars? The music labels had screwed over musicians and fans. 80 percent of all recorded music wasn't offered for sale, and the labels cooked the books to make it effectively impossible for musicians to earn out their advances. Napster didn't solve all of that (though they did offer $15/user/month to the labels for a license to their catalogs), but there were many ways in which it was vastly superior to the system it replaced.

The record labels responded by suing tens of thousands of people, mostly kids, but also dead people and babies and lots of other people. They demanded an end to online anonymity and a system of universal surveillance. They wanted every online space to algorithmically monitor everything a user posted and delete anything that might be a copyright infringement.

These were the problems with the music cartel: they suppressed the availability of music, screwed over musicians, carried on a campaign of indiscriminate legal terror, and lobbied effectively for a system of ubiquitous, far-reaching digital surveillance and control:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/02/nonbinary-families/#red-envelopes

You know what wasn't a problem with the record labels? The music. The music was fine. Great, even.

But some of the people who were outraged with the labels' outrageous actions decided the problem was the music. Their answer wasn't to merely demand better copyright laws or fairer treatment for musicians, but to demand that music fans stop listening to music from the labels. Somehow, they thought they could build a popular movement that you could only join by swearing off popular music.

That didn't work. It can't work. A popular movement that you can only join by boycotting popular music will always be unpopular. It's bad tactics.

When we blame "laziness" for tech monopolies, we send the message that our friends have to choose between life's joys and comforts, and a fair economic system that doesn't corrupt our politics, screw over workers, and destroy small, local businesses. This isn't true. It's a lie that monopolists tell to justify their abuse. When we repeat it, we do monopolists' work for them – and we chase away the people we need to recruit for the meaningful struggles to build worker power and political power.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/12/give-me-convenience/#or-give-me-death

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

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

[littlebigmouse]

List of Small Things™ I enjoy about Fullmetal Alchemist in no particular order

Everyone in FMAB/manga is just Some Guy™ and very human and I love that so here goes:

Falman getting stuck with a serial-killing suit of armor in his appartment for days and his reaction to it. It may have been weeks. He's been on sick leave the entire time. He's a guy in his early thirties with a flock of early-greying hair because being in a dead-end-role in the military is stressfull, ok. He gets stuck at home with a funny little serial killer (and eventually some foreign body guards, and a foreign prince?? lighting signal fires in his backyard?? like man what a week)

The whole military ambush against the Devil's Nest was yes, kind of kickstarted by the gang kidnapping Al for Greed, but it was mostly kickstarted because Ed was down south to do his yearly official report and Bradley and Armstrong just happened to be present when he was informed Al had gone missing. Greed's entire operation was done in by a teen doing his paperwork

on that note, Greed really decided to spend his immortality wisely by pursuing absolutely none of his supposed ambitions and just decided to settle down with a bunch of buddies. An offshot of the buddies he was initially made to guard, too. I don't think Greed is aware of this either

everyone on that radio building. The radio host 100% down to get some coup-shenanigans into his station to drive engagement. The guys sympathising with Mrs Bradley and taking care of her. Breda taking control of the narrative with a perpetual frown by the skin of his teeth.

I know the story of how the Bradleys met is technically not canon(?) but Mrs Bradley slapping her future husband upon their first meeting because he got his flirting tips from his siblings will never not be funny. Idiots. All of them.

EVERYTHING about Darius and Heinkel. They lost their jobs and became wanted criminals upon helping out some scrawny 15 year old. They have families they miss dearly. They haven't looked back since. "You guys don't HAVE to help me save the world" - "It's not like we have anything better to do"

i was going to say the Ice Cream Truck, because it's iconic, but actually, when told to disguise a vehicle, 15-year-old pinacle of edgelord fashion Edward Elric turned it into a colourful nightmare of spikes that barely resembled a car but might be closely related to the worlds deadliest parade float. None of this was necessary. Ed is just like that.

Hawkeye growing her hair out after meeting Winry, and Winry getting piercings after seeing Hawkeye's

Denny Brosh bursting into tears when he sees Maria Ross is still alive. Dude managed to not quit his job despite working in the same city (department?) where his best friend's killer was his supervisor. They were also very real for showing us that this is a guy who oversleeps and is older brother to at least three younger siblings. There was no need to give us more on Denny Brosh but every little detail hit so hard when they reunited.

okay so remember that time Ed and Ling ate Ed's shoe. Remember that Ed spend some time on a "deserted island" as a kid. Gluttony's stomach had nothing on him. Izumi raised some anime-ass boy-scouts. 100% Farm boy behaviour. These kids are so 15 it makes me want to bite things

immortal, soul-spliced dwarf in a flask got rid of his Sloth and still managed to procrastinate on his world domination plan until the last minute. Most Human disaster.

the entire half-episode they spend on Dr. Knox and his regrets and family. FMA is so good about humanising everyone.

everyone bullied Yoki because he was a small town fraud exploiting workers for his own benefit. Simply a jerk. He also hit Pride with a car in an epic rescue, and cried and screamed the whole way through

that one shot of a kid curiously poking a soldier they found bound on the ground with a stick

(I know it's technically not canon, but-) "I'm trying to save your life, asshole!"

Edward Elric

[lay-z]

– too sweet | pt. 1

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader x Keegan P. Russ Warnings/Infos*: virgin!Simon Riley/Ghost; time skips; angst; hurt/comfort; love triangle; slow burn; heavy smut; fluff; pregnancy; various kinks (they will be tagged in later chapters); jealousy/possessiveness; minor violence; PTSD; domestic bliss; cussing; relationship struggles; mental health issues; insecurities; slightly Mary Sue!Reader (because it's fun) Summary: Ten months after joining TF-141 as another Scout Sniper, having been recruited by Captain Price, you’ve developed a strange yet wholesome friendship with your direct superior, Lieutenant Riley. Despite the odds, things between you change after a particularly rough mission, and things keep escalating developing from there. * Some Warnings/Infos apply to future chapters!

Friday | June 9th, 2023 – 21:28 (9:28) p.m.

Three firm knocks on your door and you’re startled from your relaxed state, sprawled out on your couch in sweats and a loose-fitting gym shirt, and having just recently calmed down from the familiar adrenaline rush that comes with returning home from another mission, and home being the military base where the 141 HQ is located.

You have to actively remind yourself not to slip into survival/soldier mode again. It’s probably just Keegan anyway, knowing he wanted to come over tonight, as neither of you like to be alone immediately after coming back to base.

Three more knocks follow, and you eventually manage to get up with a small groan; body battered and bruised from days of combat and being deployed.

Shuffling through your open living space like a granny with arthritis and not a highly skilled Special Forces operator in her late 20s, you make your way down the short hallway towards your front door on soft soles.

Swinging your front door open, you start talking without looking first.

“I fuckin’ hope you brought snacks, you–“

Then, you do look and you’re not met with Keegan’s pale blue mirthful gaze, but your Lieutenant’s intense deep brown stare.

“Oh.”

Sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth, your stomach simultaneously clenches and flutters at the sight of the tall, bulky man, oozing natural authority and dominance – at first glance, that is.

However, as you take a closer, assessing look, you can see a different kind of tension in his wide shoulders, because beneath his black hoodie, he seems to be… trembling?

“Hi?” You ask tentatively, eyes flickering over his appearance eagerly – as always.

Lieutenant Riley is wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants, a large black hoodie that makes him look even bigger and buffer than he already is, his skull balaclava, and a pair of black trainers. Casual as ever, though it’s not something you see for the first time. You’ve already had the privilege to see him like this in the past months – this leisurely. Even though, he never seems to truly relax, no matter how cosy his clothes look.

It’s the look in his eyes that makes you tut. He looks feral, almost distressed; lacking his usual stoicism, the simmering fury and intensity.

“Can I come in?”

You’re pulled from your thoughts, your assessment of your superior. Your friend.

It’s not really a question, not an order either, and it takes your fuzzy mind a moment to decipher the hidden plea behind his words.

Without thinking further, you step aside wordlessly, giving him permission to enter your apartment – like you’ve done several times before now.

His footsteps are nearly silent on the hardwood floor as he takes cautious steps down the short hallway towards your spacious living room, and it’s as eerie as ever when he does that.

Closing the front door behind you and locking it, you turn back around just in time to see him pull off his balaclava at once, exposing his short, dirty blond and dishevelled hair. You think you can hear him breathing a deep sigh of relief and you can’t suppress the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Now, that is a sight you haven’t quite gotten used to yet; the Lieutenant showing his face, showing you a sight of him that he usually keeps concealed at all times. You still remember the moment he first took it off in front of you back then, right where he is standing now, in your apartment, like it was no big deal.

You still thrive off of the fact that he trusted – trusts you enough to do that, sometimes.

“As much as I love to have guests over after a stressful mission,” you start, your voice laced with your familiar sarcasm, “I gotta ask… You alright there, LT?”

“Don’t,” he objects immediately as he takes a seat on your large couch; brown leather creaking beneath his massive frame. “Don’t call me LT nor Ghost, either. Not now… not tonight.”

You continue to approach and survey him, like he’s some dangerous yet wounded animal and you are the zoo keeper, trying to calm it down; bare feet softly patting on the floor until you come to stand a few feet away, the coffee table separating you from the couch.

“Okay… Well, you alright there, Simon?”

At the utterance of his name, the corner of Simon’s lips look like they’re lifting the tiniest bit and it makes your chest fill with that deep sense of pride again at making the enigmatic man’s façade crack a bit.

Silence follows where he doesn’t meet your eyes again as he simply looks around your apartment, taking in his surroundings while you shift on your feet, crossing your arms in front of your chest, before you turn on your heels to walk into your adjacent, open kitchen.

Taking out the stashed bottle of Kentucky whisky from one of your cupboards, the one for emergencies like this one, you pour a glass before making your way back into the living room, where he is still sitting like a statue, like the unmoving force he is.

“Here,” You say, offering the glass of liquor to him, which he accepts with a curt nod.

When you go on to take a seat in the corner of your couch, since he decided to man-spread right in the middle of it, his ungloved and free hand suddenly shoots out and grasps your wrist that is closest to him, keeping you from sitting down.

“Uh, okay… Interesting,” you remark nonchalantly, brows furrowed, though you shouldn’t be surprised by his strange antics by now. You can see his jaw clench and a muscle ticks in his stubbly cheek before he finally looks up at you, meeting your gaze at last.

“Can you… sit in my lap?” His asks gruffly, almost begrudgingly, chapped lips barely moving as he speaks.

Your eyes widen imperceptibly as your heart nearly jumps in your chest. Sit in his lap?! Your gaze flickers down at his strong legs, his thick thighs, and his grip on your wrists tightens a little. It’s like your brain short-circuits at once, too tired and suddenly too excited to even question his timid request.

“Y-Yeah,” you answer eventually, trying not to sound too eager, as you give a small nod, “Sure, why the hell not.” You snort, trying to downplay this incredibly strange situation, considering you and the Lieutenant have done nothing but nurse and develop this strange friendship for the past ten months.

When you shuffle and move to sit in his lap, your heart flutters even worse when he grabs your upper arms to help you, to guide you, until you’re straddling his thick thighs with a little strain to your sore legs, and it becomes clearer to you how big this man truly is as you finally sit down comfortably.

Simon takes a sip of his whisky then, merely looking at you at this very new, very close proximity, and you do exactly the same.

You can see all the scars up close now; discoloured skin tissue a stark contrast on his pale skin. The one splitting his right eyebrow, the thick and ragged one around his neck, smaller ones along his cheeks and jawline, the one on his crooked nose – a nose that has clearly been broken a lot of times. He has slight crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes and the bags under his eyes are still visible despite the smudge black combat paint around his eyes.

He must’ve taken a shower before coming to your place; he smells too clean and fresh, with a hint of tobacco beneath the scent of peppermint toothpaste.

Suddenly, his buff chest heaves with a breath that rumbles through it and your attention is back on his whisky-coloured eyes. You know that he hates it when you look too closely, pay too much attention to his ruggedly handsome face.

And now, neither of you seem to know what to do next.

“Hi.”

Simon exhales sharply through his nose; a noise that you can only categorize as a huff of amusement at you awkward attempt to ease the tension.

“You’re silly, lass,” he remarks, taking another sip of his whisky while you watch his throat constrict as he swallows.

“Mhm,” you hum in return, unable to keep your eyes from drinking him in, fingers twitching to reach out and touch while your palms rest flat on your own thighs.

“Do you –“ He stops, clears his throat and swallows again, his own eyes unwavering as he surveys you just as eagerly.

“Do you know why I’m here?”

It’s a simple question and yet – it has your mind racing. Yes, why is he here? Not that it’s entirely unusual to appear unannounced, like the mystery he is.

“Enlighten me, Lieu– Simon,” you retort, smiling sheepishly at your almost slip-up that has him narrowing his eyes at you briefly.

“I’m–“

He takes another sip of liquid courage, downs the whole glass actually, before he bends over in a way that has you shifting and clinging to his broad shoulders as to not fall off while he puts the empty glass on the coffee table in front of the couch.

You use the momentum to let your hands rest on his shoulders and he doesn’t correct you, doesn’t shrug them off; it makes your palms go clammy and your heart fluttering again.

And then, Simon lets his mammoth hands move to your hips in return, almost hovering over your clothed skin before he closes the last half-inch of space between his hands and your body, and suddenly, you feel the weight of his paws on you, their warmth seeping through your clothing.

“It was a rough mission,” he says then, eyes flickering while you can feel his fingers twitch against you nervously.

You know it was a rough mission for the whole team; you were there, too. They’re always rough, nerve-wrecking. There is more to his statement, way more, but you let him speak his mind at his own pace, you always do.

“I couldn’t – can’t – be alone tonight,” he admits roughly, uncharacteristically quiet and vulnerable, too, “I don’t want to be alone.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours and the intense, raw look in them takes your breath away momentarily. The sheer need and desperation he is showing you right now, is almost too overwhelming for you and you curse yourself for averting your own eyes from him briefly.

“I needed to see you.”

And suddenly, you’re wide awake, sitting up a little straighter on his lap, with no trace of fatigue or soreness left. Everything vanished, along with your many, many thoughts.

“You need… me?” You repeat quietly, feeling your gut twist as the meaning of those words fully settle in. He needs you – you!

“Why?” You ask, your voice breathy and quiet, and then you feel silly for asking for some unknown reason.

“I feel like I’m losing it,” Simon admits bluntly, fingers now digging into your plush hips as if he’s trying to ground himself – and you let him, squeezing his shoulders softly in return.

It’s a heavy confession from a man like Simon Riley, the stoic, mysterious Ghost who is always in control; always keeping his mask in place, shutting everyone out.

“I’m here to feel something… to feel human again, but I don’t know if I’m even capable of that anymore, lass.”

“And you come to me with that?”

Simon huffs through his nose, shifting in his seat slightly, and lips sealed into a tight line before he speaks up again.

“There’s no one else I trust with that,” he answers curtly, “Not even Price.”

Oh, but that sounds even better; it feeds right into your self-diagnosed helper syndrome deliciously. It’s the validation you crave from him, only him for some reason or another. The fact that he sought you out, makes you feel special, like you’re worth something. You desperately try to supress the giddy smile that threatens to spread on your lips.

“And what – what do you want me to do about that now?”

“I’m not sure,” he sighs and it’s a rough sound as he averts his gaze again, focusing it on the floor instead, “All I know is that the lines between Ghost and Simon keep blurring.”

“Mhm,” you hum affirmingly, keeping incredibly still on his lap as you listen and process and analyse. “And you want to be –“

“I want to feel human. I want to…” He stops mid-sentence, closing his eyes briefly, taking a breath through his nose before he opens his eyes; onyx-coloured pupils quickly expanding and narrowing again against the light as he meets your eyes.

“For once, I just want to be Simon… for you… with you.”

For me, you repeat the words to yourself in your head and they fill you with a strange kind of warmth as the feeling keeps blossoming in your chest relentlessly, until that voice in the back of your mind keeps screaming at you that this is still your superior! However, the very selfish part of your brain ignores that voice very quickly again, stuffing an imaginary sock down your logic’s and conscience’ throats.

“I just don’t know where Ghost ends and Simon begins anymore,” he admits hoarsely, nose scrunching up slightly as he spits out the words as if they physically hurt him to admit.

“Well,” you start, blinking a few times as you try to sort out your thoughts and words, but then your eyes land on the thick scar around his neck again and suddenly, you reach out with your right hand to cup his left cheek, thumb lightly brushing over his stubble.

His eyes widen and he sucks in a sharp breath, holding it. You’ve never touched his face before.

“I’d say, Simon starts right here,” you utter softly, fully aware that he could easily break your wrist for touching him like that right now, “Right here, without that bloody mask.”

You can feel his whole body tense up, can feel the sheer power of him as his muscles coil and bristle, but you don’t withdraw your touch, keep yourself from pulling your hand away until he tells you to – but he doesn’t.

“It’s… nice,” he mutters, as if he’s trying to tell himself that, exhaling through his nose, though he looks anything but like he’s enjoying this. It almost makes you giggle out loud if it wasn’t for the utter devastation and pity you were experiencing for him.

“Is it?”

He nods curtly, his large hands easing their grip on your hips a little, thumbs drawing circles on the fabric of your sweats.

“Want me to take my hand away?”

He shakes his head immediately, rubbing his scratchy cheek against your palm as he does so, like a stray realizing that he really does like this touch that he seems to be craving so much – for some reason. Simon almost looks offended that you’re even asking.

You keep cupping his cheek somewhat awkwardly as you remain seated on his lap, caressing his cheekbone for a moment in silence, until your splayed fingertips brush against some cropped short hair at his neck behind his ear. You notice that his ear has been pierced – probably a long, long while ago – and your eyebrow quirks curiously, suddenly imagining a rebellious, teenage Simon with pierced ears and perhaps black nail polish just to piss his bastard father off, but you don’t dare to voice those thoughts. Instead, you opt to ask:

“Do you cut your hair yourself?”

His dark blonde brows furrow at your question, he looks surprised by it; the genuine curiosity in your voice and eyes. But his surprise is soothed at once when your hand snakes around his neck, soft fingers raking through the short hair at the nape of his neck. You watch as his eyes flutter briefly, feel him roll his shoulders and move his neck from side to side as you caress him tenderly.

“Mhmm,” he hums lowly, “Don’t trust anyone with scissors or blades standing behind me,” he tells you and his voice has dropped an octave, making a sudden tingle run down your spine.

“Sometimes Johnny cuts it for me.”

“– ‘course, he does. That Scot and his silly Mohawk,” I retort with a mock eye roll, still playing with his hair absentmindedly, “I hope you won’t ever decide to let him give you one."

That makes him crack a small smile, which makes you also smile in return. It feels like a victory, being the one to make Simon show any type of positive reaction.

“Nah,” he answers with a shrug, “I just need it short and neat or it’ll get itchy under the mask.”

Silence ensues again, though it’s less awkward. I’m more than comfortable straddling his lap now, touching his face and toying with his pretty hair, while he keeps surveying me, relaxing more as the minutes pass.

Then he breaks the silence again, “You’re –“

He stops himself again, clenches his jaw and you tug on his hair playfully, egging him on to continue speaking. Simon huffs, upper lip twitching comically, like a wolf’s chaps snarling.

“You’re the... first lass to ever sit in my lap.” He admits, averting his eyes from yours again, as if he’s embarrassed of that fact. You, on the other hand, are absolutely beaming internally; practically vibrating with a sudden wave of excitement – excitement you have to keep concealed, because you don’t want to overwhelm him or, even worse, scare him off.

It must be hard, being such a paradox; a man who doesn’t want anyone getting close to him yet desperately craving comfort.

“I like that.”

His brows furrow again, “You do?”

“Yes, sir,” you response playfully, giving a firm nod. “I do actually like you as well, y’know?”

His fingers dig into the fabric of your sweats at your admission, rough pads rubbing over your hips more firmly. You decide to take it a notch further.

“Can I hug you? You look very… huggable right now.”

Simon lifts an eyebrow, lips pursing slightly, which makes him look like he’s actually amused by that.

“Aye,” he answers, clearing his throat slightly, though he doesn’t move a muscle as he looks at you with those pretty, whiskey-coloured eyes and then you realize that he’s waiting for you to initiate the hug.

“Alright then…uhm,” you utter under your breath and clear your throat, retrieving your right hand from his neck to drum your fingers on your thighs nervously instead. Suddenly, your initial courage has vanished like smoke in the wind, and you start overthinking, because he clearly hasn’t been touched like that in a while and what if he hates it? What if you give him a bad hug and make him recoil from you? The thought alone is enough to make your stomach drop.

Simon seems to notice your inner turmoil and shifts in his seat, leather creaking softly under your combined weight and the way his thighs feel beneath your body makes your heart flutter again.

“Lass?”

The concerned undertone laced in his uncharacteristically quiet yet gravelly voice is enough to snap you back to reality again. Blinking rapidly, you try to inhale and exhale discreetly, before you finally lean in until your chest is pressed flush to his and you can wrap your arms around his broad shoulders tentatively.

It’s awkward again and you try not to move and squirm too much on his large lap, because God forbid, he gets a boner. You wouldn’t be able to handle that tonight.

Then, Simon’s muscular arms eventually wrap around your midriff in return, hugging you even closer somehow, and – Oh, this is nice. Very nice, you think to yourself, eyes widening slightly as you stare at the white wall mere inches in front of you.

You get a good whiff of his body wash and laundry detergent, and underneath those chemicals, you can smell – him, and suddenly, it’s like a switch is flipped in your head and then you’re nuzzling your nose into his neck shamelessly; scenting your superior, your friend, like some feral maniac. You can feel your cheeks flush; embarrassment and desire mixing in your gut like a deadly combination that triggers both your fight or flight instinct, but then –

Something tickles along your neck and your eyes widen even more, because you realize – he’s doing it, too! Simon is nuzzling your neck, burying his crooked nose into your shoulder and inhaling deeply while his chest rumbles, like a lion purring.

“Feels good.” He says eventually, deep voice muffled by the fabric of your hoodie, while his arms tighten around your body like steel rods.

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

Detente for the Ravenous: Out Now!

I've just released a new game and novel! "Detente for the Ravenous" is a Resistance-system game in the vein of "Heart" and "Spire," in which operatives work together to bring down the theocratic empire that seeks world domination. Fighting humans transformed into monsters, these operatives must pick their missions carefully, and using the game's "grand strategy" system, slowly move the needle to destroy their enemies or remake the future.

If you enjoy games like Heart, Spire , F.I.S.T., or Elden Ring

If you’re interested in historical trainwrecks combining 17th century military touchstones with 20th century Cold War espionage

If you’re interested in the ways religion is wielded as a tool of hegemony...

Then check out the game here!

[probablyasocialecologist]

Libraries have traditionally operated on a basic premise: Once they purchase a book, they can lend it out to patrons as much (or as little) as they like. Library copies often come from publishers, but they can also come from donations, used book sales, or other libraries. However the library obtains the book, once the library legally owns it, it is theirs to lend as they see fit.  Not so for digital books. To make licensed e-books available to patrons, libraries have to pay publishers multiple times over. First, they must subscribe (for a fee) to aggregator platforms such as Overdrive. Aggregators, like streaming services such as HBO’s Max, have total control over adding or removing content from their catalogue. Content can be removed at any time, for any reason, without input from your local library. The decision happens not at the community level but at the corporate one, thousands of miles from the patrons affected.  Then libraries must purchase each individual copy of each individual title that they want to offer as an e-book. These e-book copies are not only priced at a steep markup—up to 300% over consumer retail—but are also time- and loan-limited, meaning the files self-destruct after a certain number of loans. The library then needs to repurchase the same book, at a new price, in order to keep it in stock.  This upending of the traditional order puts massive financial strain on libraries and the taxpayers that fund them. It also opens up a world of privacy concerns; while libraries are restricted in the reader data they can collect and share, private companies are under no such obligation. Some libraries have turned to another solution: controlled digital lending, or CDL, a process by which a library scans the physical books it already has in its collection, makes secure digital copies, and lends those out on a one-to-one “owned to loaned” ratio.  The Internet Archive was an early pioneer of this technique. When the digital copy is loaned, the physical copy is sequestered from borrowing; when the physical copy is checked out, the digital copy becomes unavailable. The benefits to libraries are obvious; delicate books can be circulated without fear of damage, volumes can be moved off-site for facilities work without interrupting patron access, and older and endangered works become searchable and can get a second chance at life. Library patrons, who fund their local library’s purchases with their tax dollars, also benefit from the ability to freely access the books. Publishers are, unfortunately, not a fan of this model, and in 2020 four of them sued the Internet Archive over its CDL program. The suit ultimately focused on the Internet Archive’s lending of 127 books that were already commercially available through licensed aggregators. The publisher plaintiffs accused the Internet Archive of mass copyright infringement, while the Internet Archive argued that its digitization and lending program was a fair use. The trial court sided with the publishers, and on September 4, the Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit reaffirmed that decision with some alterations to the underlying reasoning.  This decision harms libraries. It locks them into an e-book ecosystem designed to extract as much money as possible while harvesting (and reselling) reader data en masse. It leaves local communities’ reading habits at the mercy of curatorial decisions made by four dominant publishing companies thousands of miles away. It steers Americans away from one of the few remaining bastions of privacy protection and funnels them into a surveillance ecosystem that, like Big Tech, becomes more dangerous with each passing data breach. And by increasing the price for access to knowledge, it puts up even more barriers between underserved communities and the American dream.

11 September 2024

[coriihanniee]

THE ENGAGEMENT GAME - enhypen smau

﹒₊˚⊹｡☁︎₊˚⊹｡

PROFILES - the nepo bitches

𓍯𓂃⭑.ᐟ HEESEUNG - As the future CEO of his family’s tech empire, Heeseung is always ahead of the curve—whether in academics, business, or social hierarchy. He carries the weight of innovation and legacy on his shoulders, but no one sees the pressure behind his effortless success. To YN, he’s both a rival and an enigma—someone who operates like an algorithm, precise and impossible to crack.

𓍯𓂃⭑.ᐟ JAY - Born into a high-fashion dynasty, Jay grew up surrounded by luxury and influence, learning early on that perception is everything. He plays the long game, using charm and carefully placed words to shape the narrative in his favor. Though he acts nonchalant, he knows exactly how to manipulate trends, rumors, and people. With YN, he’s both a challenge and an ally—someone who understands the power of image but might just teach her how to use it for herself.

𓍯𓂃⭑.ᐟ JAKE - Jake’s family owns a global investment firm, making them the kind of wealthy that shapes economies behind the scenes. As the heir, he was raised with a sharp understanding of finance, power, and long-term influence. He’s well-mannered, likable, and seemingly carefree, but his kindness is just another form of leverage. YN sees the way he navigates the elite world differently—like he knows the game but refuses to let it define him.

𓍯𓂃⭑.ᐟ SUNGHOON - Coming from an old-money financial empire, Sunghoon has been raised to move with calculated grace. His family owns some of the most prestigious banks, hotels, and real estate in the country, including the most famous ice rink in Seoul. He was taught that emotions are a liability, that power is quiet but absolute. But YN unsettles him—she challenges the carefully controlled life he was molded into, making him question if he’s ever made a real choice for himself.

𓍯𓂃⭑.ᐟ SUNOO - As the heir to the biggest luxury cosmetics and skincare company, Sunoo understands the art of beauty and branding better than anyone. He knows how to be likable, how to make people trust him, and how to dismantle someone’s reputation with a single well-placed word. He’s used to people pretending around him, which is why YN interests him—she refuses to play the game, but he wonders how long she can survive without learning the rules.

𓍯𓂃⭑.ᐟ JUNGWON - Jungwon grew up surrounded by politics and law, raised to understand the weight of power in governance. His father is a major politician, and his family’s influence in government stretches back generations. He’s polite, composed, and always in control—because he knows that in his world, perception can destroy or save lives. He sees through people easily, including YN, and their interactions feel more like a high-stakes negotiation than casual conversation.

𓍯𓂃⭑.ᐟ NIKI - Niki comes from a globally renowned sportswear empire, a business that dominates the intersection of athleticism, fashion, and lifestyle. Unlike the others, he doesn’t care about corporate meetings or brand strategies—his family’s power is so solid, he can afford to ignore it. That makes him even more untouchable. YN intrigues him because she fights back, and for once, he finds himself wanting to see what happens if he plays along instead of watching from the sidelines.

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