#secret invasion was neither

[master-gatherer]

I know I'm usually one to be more charitable towards MCU stuff, but I finally got around to finishing Secret Invasion and it was so bad. Confused plotting and themes, does not gel with the rest of the MCU, and that is being charitable. And the one thing that kept annoying me the whole time was New Asgard

So if you don't know or care, Secret Invasion is about shape shifting aliens coming to Earth and invading it all secret like. In the comics the aliens (Skrulls) are 100% the bad guys, but in the MCU they had a twist in Captain Marvel where actually the Skrulls are refugees and have been nearly genocided by this other alien species (which is honestly one of the more interesting bits about Captain Marvel, but I'm bitching about Secret Invasion, not doing my Captain Marvel autopsy, so focus). Skrulls are not the bad guys, and in fact Nick Fury has been using them as a secret force of informants and assassins since the 1990s, and that's how he's managed to become such a super spy. And in exchange he promised to help the Skrulls find a new planet to call home.

So in the show, some of the Skrulls get tired of waiting after thirty years (even though Skrulls apparently live longer than humans), and want Fury to hurry up and find them a new planet. Even though they can apparently live in radioactive locations and have in fact settled an old abandoned Russian nuclear reactor as their colony on Earth. But this isn't good enough for some of them so that subset of Skrulls are trying to start WW3 to kill off the humans and colonize the now radioactive planet Earth.

So right away we get to the problem, which is that they can apparently live in areas that humans can't, so why can't they just set up shop in Pripyat and other radioactive areas we can't live in, why do they need a whole ass planet. And this is put in stark relief when you remember this is the MCU and somewhere in like Norway New Agard exists.

Because Earth has an alien refugee settlement already, it's New Asgard. In the MCU Asgardians are also aliens, and they lost their home, and have basically set up shop in Scandinavia, we see in Thor Love and Thunder they have a booming tourist industry, in She-Hulk there's Asgardians and even shape-shifting light elves dealing with the legal system. There's precedent. And it's not like humans are using these radioactive sites anyway, we can't go there without getting sick. Why can't we just give the Skrulls amnesty and they stay there, doing their own thing under the protection of Earth and it's superheroes, which will save them from the other space empire that nearly wiped them out in the first place?

But no, the Skrulls have to do a bunch of terrorisms and try to kill the US president, so now the president is trying to declare all aliens enemy combatants (he does not distinguish between alien species, so I guess the MCU version of the president is trying to declare war on Thor, the literal god of thunder). And this whole show is a goddam mess.

Like, usually theming wise Marvel is ok and pretty consistent, their plotting sometimes gets away from them but whatever, the important part is the story, themes, and characters are usually pretty solid, ranging from a few missteps to knocking it out of the park. Not here though. The whole thing didn't seem like it was committed to what it was saying. Like the whole "evil refugee" thing is bad on its face, but it didn't even want to commit to that (because it's xenophobic and gross as fuck) so instead we get this weird mess of "most of these guys are good, but we only see a couple of them, and the bad ones have legitimate grievances but they are trying to wipe out all life on earth" and that does not mesh with what the greater MCU has established, which is that humans know aliens exist and are actively engaging in commerce with them. The concern that humans will not accept the Skrulls because theyre too alien, while it could open a discussion about how different groups experience privilege and prejudice, is treated like a foregone conclusion. "Humans aren't ready to accept aliens living among them" tell that to Valkyrie and Korg! We could have a nice contrast b/t why the Asgardians are accepted and the Skrulls aren't but no, we're just going to side step the Asgardians completely and half demonize half sympathize with the Skrull plight.

Idk man, the MCU seems to really shine lately when it leans into the extraordinary space/magic stuff and it really stumbles when it tries to do a more realistic and gritty thing. Secret Invasion was trying way too hard to be a hard bitten spy thriller, which is just undercut not only by in-story plot points, like collecting all the Avengers' DNA and literal shape shifting aliens, but also the cross continuity to other more fantastical stories. Again, they literal had a shape shifter in She-Hulk, there is now legal precedent established within the MCU of how to deal with this sort of power, you can't have a realistic spy thriller pop in a few months later like "how will society react to this new development 😱"

The creative heads behind the MCU really are resistant to grappling with the change of the status quo and what it means, and it will inevitably break the whole thing if they continue to refuse to do so and keep writing these like "it's just like our world but this handful of people have super powers."

[venator-signum]

I am this close to making a counter for days until teddy altman is in the mcu I am going feral whERES MY BOY

[bet-on-me-13]

The Villains Daughter

So! Years ago, back when the Justice League was only just starting out, only a year or two after their initial team-up, they had one of their biggest battles to date. A group of Extra-Dimensional Beings had burst into their reality, hellbent on destroying a Government Facility and the nearby small town in Illinois.

They barely managed to beat the Invading Army back, although the Government Facility and a part of the nearby Town had been destroyed in the battle.

Later, they would learn about what had happened. Apparently the Government Base, called a GIW Facility, had managed to finally Crack the secret to Interdimensional Travel a few days earlier. Unfortunately, they had opened a Portal into a Dimension known as the Ghost Zone, ruled over by a Tyrant King who wanted to enslaved all world under him. Their Breaching of the GZ had alerted the Tyrant King to the existence of their Dimension, and he had launched an immediate Invasion to try and take it over.

And the evidence supported this.

Wonder Woman shared Legends of her People, telling that their Founding Ancestor had fled the rule of a Tyrant King when she passed into the Afterlife.

Zatara shared his Magic Tomes, showing them passages detailing the horrific Rule of the Tyrant King of the Infinite Realms.

They even asked Boston Brand, the Deadman and resident Ghost about it. He hadn't been the the Ghost Zone in Years, but even he told them that he had personally fled the Tyrant King.

And they also learned that when the Tyrant King set his eyes on something, he did not falter on his Warpath to acquire it. The Tyrant King, Pariah Dark, would be back for their World, again and again.

And they needed to be prepared. This Battle was what kickstarted their true Commitment to the idea of a Team. They knew they could not defeat Pariah Dark alone, so they needed to remain as a Team.

But there was another thing that came about from the Battle.

While the JLA had been helping clean up, Wonder Woman came across a strange sight. A Baby had been left in the rubble of the GIW Building.

She asked around, investigated, and did all she could to find the babies parents. At first she thought that one of the GIW Agents had brought their kid to work that day, but their records indicated that none of the Agents had children of that Age. And Neither did any of the other workers who worked on the base, like the Janitors or the Kitchen Staff. And of they did, all of their children were accounted for.

She eventually came to the conclusion that the Baby must belong to somebody in the nearby Town, but that lead led nowhere either.

She finally came to the conclusion that the Baby's parents must have died in the Invasion, a very unfortunate but very real possibility. She was going to place her into the System, but over the course of her investigation she had grown fond of the Child.

She decided to Adopt the baby herself. She didn't know the child's name, so she had to come up with a new one.

"How do you like the name, Stella?"

The baby gurgled in delight.

...

Over the next decade of their Teams Existence, the Justice League had to fend off the Legions of the Ghost King's Army many more times. It seemed that Pariah had grown wise to the fact that they were the ones defending the Human Realm, as almost all of the later attacks were directed on them personally.

It made sense, they were the First Line of Defense against his Armies, if he managed to defeat them, their World would soon fall.

But they dealt with the attacks as they came. They had made it their mission to defend their Home from the Forced of Pariah Darks Army, and they would not falter now, or ever.

In the case of Wonder Woman, he Daughter had grown to be a fine little lady. Stella had eventually developed Powers similar to her mother, in that she could fly and had super strength, and had begged to be trained as a Hero.

And who was Diana to deny her Daughter her greatest wish? Over the next 5 years, Diana trained Stella in the ways of the Amazon's. Then, when Stella was 15, she had her join the newly formed Young Justice.

She made a great group of friends on that Team, and even started going by Ellie as a Nickname. Her best friend was by far Conner, though she didn't know why she felt such a strong connection to him? It felt like she could relate to him, but her situation was completely different?

Ah well, her Mom wouldn't mind having another kid, would she? She always wanted a Brother!

...

Meanwhile in the Ghost Zone, the Ghost King was getting anxious. After 15 years, his Agents in the Human Realm had finally managed to set up the Ritual needed to Summon Him into the Human Realm.

Who knew that accepting the Ghost King's Throne would bar him from entering the Human Realm through normal Means? He couldn't even use the Portal, he needed to be summoned or he simply wouldn't be able to leave his new home dimension.

But now, it was almost time. Just another year or two, and he would finally be able to enter the Human Realm. He would finally be able to Find Her. His Daugther.

Danny would finally be able to reunite with his daughter, Ellie.

[sordidmusings]

Drown in You (Sanji x Reader)

Art by tsuyomaru

Prologue: It is no secret to the crew that you know soul magic. Robin was the first to understand what you were talking about - it is, after all, a practice from a far off island whose resident have all but vanished. While she would ask you actually engaging questions, almost all the others are just begging you to use it, but you refuse to budge and show them. You tell them about it though, wistfully and reverently. At first, Sanji would beg and wax poetic about it the most of all, but as you grow closer he learns to just listen. With your deepening trust and his lack of pushing, you decide it’s time to give him a taste of the heady bliss of brushing souls.

A/N: Getting this up quick before getting back to asks 👏🏻 This was written for me to practice using my magic stuff instead of just thinking about it lol I use it constantly in daydreams so why not try to actually get it down and see if others like it too 🤷🏼‍♀️ as far as this fic goes, visualization is used to control the energy of the soul then have it flow over Sanji then all his happy chemicals go ~W O W~

Word Count: ~3.8 k

Warnings: gn reader, just so much non-sexual intimacy, ✨magic✨, flirting, pet names (all gn), Sanji being down bad, reader finding it cute, it’s more opla down bad not anime down bad in this one, besides that I think he could be read as either

Hope you enjoy guiding Sanji through feeling a soul the first time 🤍🤍🤍

Suggested Music:

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“If you relax it will help,” you instructed.

Sanji was trying his best to relax but how could he? He had seen how dreamily you talked of your experiences with this, of how comforting and relaxing and intimate it felt. After somehow convincing his way into receiving the touch from you, he was ecstatic. Then the reality of it - of how vulnerable it would leave him - started to sink in and anxiety began to taint his excitement.

You laid a hand on top of his, stopping his fingers from tapping at his thigh. You didn’t have to reach far to touch him; both of you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, so close that your knees touched. 

“Really, don’t worry,” you soothed. “We’re only brushing so you can get used to the feeling, yeah? It’ll be a lot at first, but nothing entangling or invasive. And we stop if anything’s too much.”

Sanji’s shining blue eyes took their time examining your own before turning to the floor. He hoped that looking at anything else would help him think; whenever your eyes met, his mind went blank. The patterns in the blanket separating you both from the sleeping mat didn’t help him find his words. Neither did the pillows and extra blankets encircling your seats. As you started to pull away, he felt your soft skin trail against the back of his hand and suddenly the words came.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” Sanji rushed out. It took only a second for him to adjust back to flirtation. “Just got tongue-tied looking at you.” 

You giggled at the cheesy line and how flustered he was. His practiced silver tongue didn’t seem to be helping him at the moment, which was probably making him even more nervous. You took mercy on him by not pointing it out.

Instead, you offered him your other hand and he quickly slid his into your upturned palm. He settled it so that your palms nestled into each other, giving you perfect access to run your thumb back and forth over the inside of his wrist. Sanji responds with a gentle squeeze. You pull your other hand away to resituate your hand-holding on that side to mirror the other. Sanji looked between both embraces with a soft affection that had your heart skittering. A deep breath helped steer you back on task.

“Okay. If we sync our breathing it will help the whole process and keep everything moving nice and slow,” you explained. Sanji  gave you a short nod and a shaky smile. “Watch me and follow.”

You started by breathing through your nose until you felt the air refresh every corner of your lungs. Sanji held your gaze and followed the action a split second after he heard the soft sound of your inhale start. You held that air for just a moment before gently pursing your lips and slowly blowing the air through them. His eyes shot down to watch your lips and his breath left him in a short quiet sigh. The gentle breeze you blew out brushed the back of his hands. You started your next inhale fast to exaggerate the sound and it snapped him out of his trance. He smiled in apology, squinting those shiny baby blues of his, and got right back to following you.

The feeling of your lungs stretching out your ribs, and the pressure of the exiting air tingling your lips, was soothing your mind and body. The effect grew with the sounds of your own controlled breathing and amplified with Sanji’s mimicry until there was a pleasant murkiness to the edges of your thought. Judging by how hooded Sanji’s eyes had become, he was feeling it too. Time to start.

“Now keep your hands in mine, it may feel destabilizing if you pull away suddenly,” you gently warned, voice quiet in your unwillingness to disrupt the tranquil air.

“Comforting,” Sanji responded, scrunching his nose. He resettled his expression to the flirtatious one you were much more familiar with. “Promise to nurse me back to health if anything goes wrong?”

“How else am I supposed to get my favorite treats if you’re out of commission?” you teased.

“Say that you’re mine and I’ll give you all the treats the world has to offer,” he promised, earning an enabling chuckle out of you.

“Well, we’ll see if you can handle that,” you said, voice affectionate instead of condescending. “Now less talking, more breathing. I’m going to start and I want you to save your words for anything feeling uncomfortable.”

At his nod, you began.

Sanji watched with curiosity as you closed your eyes and stopped all motion except for your breathing. He thought you looked absolutely radiant sitting in the warm afternoon light cast through the porthole, drenched in bottomless peace. Matching your breath became second nature surprisingly quick, making his mind free to absorb every beloved detail of you sharing this with him and to charge with anticipation for your next move. 

He felt but he did not see - no matter how hard he stared at the feeling manifesting on his skin, whatever was moving there stayed invisible to him. It started with your hands radiating warmth out, growing so gradually that he didn’t notice until it felt like his hands were shoved in laundry fresh from the dryer. The heat held steady for a moment, turning his grip lax as it melted any tension, before he felt the sensation change and grow up his arms. It felt both liquid and air against his skin; a summer breeze that swirled and toiled like an ocean current. A shiver crept up his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Each place the sensation curled and puffed across was stuck between enlivening with an electric flush and sinking into the heaviness of a body deep in sleep. By the time it was encroaching on his shoulder, bleeding straight through his clothes as if they didn’t exist, his breathing stuttered to something of a gasp.

Your concentration faltered at the sound, offering Sanji a light reprieve as the energy lost its ability to ignore his clothing. You opened your eyes to check in on your companion and gasp too. His eyes were hazy and staring at you like you had given him his first sip of water in days. His blue irises  stood out even more above the light blush on his face, even with his love-blown pupils. You flushed at the look, but brushed it off; the first feeling is usually overwhelming and confusing and sets off many happy chemicals to douse the whole brain and body. You thought you hadn’t pushed out too much of your energy on him and it was all soothing and content, but his eyes told you that you had bombarded him with permeating affection. Too bad you couldn’t connect your energy to his to figure out precisely what he was feeling.

“Sanji, honey, talk to me,” you asked quietly, encouragingly. “What are you feeling?”

“I feel…” he started, but he trailed off and simply kept taking you in with his soft eyes. You squeezed his hands and bumped his knee with yours to jostle him a little closer to coherence.

“Sanji, is it bad?” He certainly didn’t look like it felt bad, but too much good can quickly lead that way.

“It’s… strange?” he offered. His brows scrunched from the difficulty he was having conjuring the right words. “Good strange. Breezy. Warm. It’s a lot though.”

“Too much?” you probed, already starting to lighten up the energy.

“No,” Sanji insisted, leaning towards you in his urgency. He caught the surprise in your eyes and forced himself back again. He cleared his throat. “Please.” He exhaled heavily. “Keep going, love.”

“As long as you're sure.” You took a deep breath yourself, needing to settle your own worry back into calm concentration. You gifted yourself a moment to caress his wrist with your thumb again, enjoying how soft the skin felt in comparison to his calloused fingertips. You gave one more warning: “It will peak before you adjust and it settles out.”

You did not wait for a response to continue. Shutting your eyes so sight wouldn’t battle you on your way back to your visualizations, you were back to your task. The way you’ve gotten success in controlling your own soul’s energy was with water imagery. In your mind’s eye, a lake behind your head leaked to the space between your eyes, where it poured down in a roaring waterfall. The majority of the torrent flooded down through your neck, into your ribcage, and along to the cradle of your pelvis. On the way, it bounced and flung off a boulder built of your heart and splashed to make trickles on your ribs, spine, and hips. There was, however, some water that took a different path. The highest rocks it crashed upon rested in your shoulders, making the water spray and rush its way down your arms. Its journey from rapids to stream took place along your forearms to control the flow by the time it reached your hands. There, the water became a gently swirling pool in each palm. By the time this vision had become immaculately clear to you again, Sanji’s grip had firmed back up on you.

Sanji’s nerves had worsened instead of smoothed out, but he'd be damned if he was going to back down from this. He needed to know that feeling you had tried to describe to him and the rest of the crew. And like he had said - it wasn’t bad, but it was.. startling? Unnerving? He knew the feeling was coming from his skin but it almost didn’t feel like it was his own skin; it felt like it was coming from a whole new body. It felt at once thrumming and alive as well as heavy and enveloping. He shut his eyes against the overwhelm.

With your own eyes closed, you had to use the strength and tremble of Sanji’s grip to guide you on when to pause and when to push forward. As you anticipated, the greatest reactions came when the mental water flowing from the pools in your palms up his arms snaked to wrap around his chest and then it inched further down still to dance around his waist and stomach. Through the process, he had shifted himself ever so slightly closer to you, seeking grounding and comfort in the flourish of feeling that threatened to puff his mind into smoke. Noticing his cute nudging closer, your heart burned with fierce affection for him. You had to hold yourself from releasing his hands to pull him into and embrace. That would be too much; he’s too unused to the process and you’re too unpracticed to keep the flow stable through that action.

Finally, you imagine the long journey of the water making its way over his hips and down his thighs to cover the remaining pieces of his body. All except the head. Saving it for last was generally the best idea for someone’s first time feeling the presence of a soul; the heart is where many emotions are held but the brain has the most ties to the soul. It was much better to prep it before the plunge.

“Sanji, are you doing okay? Ready for the last bit?” you checked.

“Anything you’re willing to give, love, I’ll take,” Sanji mumbled. He sounded pleasantly dazed like a drunk existing half in the waking world and half in dreams. You wished you could open your eyes to see him.

“It’s going to rise up over your head and then it should smooth out,” you explained. A lethargic hum resonating from the depths of his chest was his only response.

The conflicting reactions his body was giving to the river of air around him had begun to center slightly by the time you had spoken. All that progress went out the window when he felt little licks of wind flicking at his neck. He trembled under the electricity they buzzed along his spine, but found himself happy to be at their mercy. He felt so very alive and that in itself was stumping him. Had he been alive? Can you live before knowing a touch that feels so implicit after only a small taste? One of the few pieces of his mind that remembered the Before and that there’s an After to this experience was repeating the daunting fact that this is only the beginning of connecting to a soul. How beautifully terrifying.

More brushes of liquid air played off the skin of his neck and he found himself tilting his head back for more of it. The rise was steady, moving past the stubble of his chin, the ears peeking out from his hair, the ends of his bangs, his curled brows, and he was submerged. 

For a split second, the impulse to jump to his feet and run until he was unable to move almost overtook him. He was a lit fuze and needed to burst or surely there would be agony. But agony never came. What came was the comfort of a morning bed on a taskless day. He was surrounded by perfectly radiating body heat in a dark cocoon. The unfamiliar aspect was how he felt like he was sitting underwater, weightless and gently rocking at the whims of a constantly swaying current. He distantly thought that if he’d open his eyes he’d find the dark pits of the ocean yawning around him and all he could find in himself to think of such a haunting notion was ‘how nice’. 

Meanwhile, you were much more sure of agreeing to go through this whole thing because of how languid Sanji had become. His hands lay mostly limp in yours, except for the occasional movement of a finger to enjoy the feel of your skin. The little affections burst joy in your heart and made that path of water that your mind held flow richer and with more ease. Knowing he’d need at least several long minutes in this stage, you let yourself relax fully into your own meditation built on your rushing blue visions and his delicately moving fingertips. Just as he had learned to mirror your breaths earlier, your hands took to mimicking his own.

Time was a muddy thing from the moment he fell fully under until the moment his body was coming back to the world. It trickled in gradually, starting with the feeling of the blanket and mattress pad he sat on and ending with the brush of his clothes on his skin when he finally shifted. The great abyss around him shrunk back to the initial feeling of twirling winds over his skin. Unlike the initial feeling, this didn’t send his body and mind reeling; it left him warm and relaxed like a decadent hot oil massage. There was still a sense of being enveloped, though. It had him thinking back to the last time he had fallen asleep wrapped in the arms of another. Despite the easy comparison, there was no unsatiated hunger plaguing him from the closeness. He was at ease.

Sanji’s eyes began to blink open once they were ready, and he was glad they did. In front of him you sat as peaceful as he had ever seen you. Once he was able to move his gaze away from the little shadows your lashes cast onto your cheeks or the enchanting curves of your resting lips, he began fully taking you in. Slowly trailing his eyes over every detail, his heart swelled with love until it pressed a placid smile on his lips. The pieces he most wanted to store away in his mind forever were the content look making your face even more beautiful to him and the sight of his hands held so caringly in your own. He let out a happy sigh as he watched your thumbs trace him once more.

“Sanji?” you called softly.

“Yes, dear?”

“How are you feeling?” He almost laughed at your question.

“I feel wonderful,” he breathed out. You could hear the smile shaping his words and were struck with the bare emotion in his statement. He sounded just like he said.

“Perfect. You’ve done beautifully, sweetheart,” you spoke through your own smile. Even with your eyes closed, you could tell he was preening at your praise.

You lightened up your conscious control of your energy flowing around Sanji. It continued on its path with ease, enough that you were able to let the feeling of its circulation sustain itself instead of needing your imagery. The repetition of it over the long time spent meditating helped you to focus in on what your energy feels like. Usually, that was something too abstract for you to be able to call on straight away. It would take hours and hours more in that sensation before your brain could own and control it with ease. For now, you were good enough to latch onto it once it was there long enough so you fully release the envisioned control by blinking your eyes open.

Sanji was already looking at you. He was no longer flushed and fidgety; every roused edge of him had polished out to a serene shine. The smile stuck on his face was delicate, only pulling his lips to curl enough to press into his cheeks and threaten to crinkle his eyes. Those eyes were half-lidded but still glimmering as they looked back at you. You darted your eyes back to his smile, which now exposed a hint of his teeth between his gently parted lips.

“What now, love?” Sanji asked. He was loath to interrupt the moment, but truly needed to know what he was supposed to do now that he had reached the goal of this whole endeavor. Would you just suck the feeling out right away? Would you pull your hands from his? Would you leave him to process this whole thing alone? Leave him to starve for a taste he’d never get again?

You took one last moment to check him over before deciding to be a little self indulgent. Sure, this would help him ease back out to no soul contact more than just sitting there, but it also wasn’t absolutely necessary. You didn’t think he would mind though.

“I think we could both use a lay down and maybe a nap,” you offered, nodding your head to the side to gesture to the head of the sleeping mat. Now his smile split wide enough to scrunch his eyes.

“You’re going to spoil me rotten, love,” he jokingly admonished, already leaning himself in the direction you’d motioned towards. He wasn’t going anywhere fast though; his body felt as heavy and slow and syrupy as his mind did.

Deciding to expose more of your soft spot for him than usual, you respond, “Good. You do enough spoiling to deserve some in return.” 

The fondness in your voice let him know that it was true care offered instead of easy flirting. Hearing you send that tone his way had his supporting arm collapse under him, sending him down to his elbow. Were it any other time, he would’ve tried to hide the slip or recover quickly, but it wasn’t any other time and he simply went with it to finish crawling the short distance to the head of the mat. The movement to get to his side was more flopping than laying, but the shift to his back was at least smoother. Those lovely blue eyes fluttered closed and refused to open.

You kept close to him the whole way, smiling and snorting at his lack of grace under the influence of the new and potent headspace brought on by your own energy. Yes, you wanted to be close anyway, but it was functionally to make it easy to keep him within the swirl of your soul. Once he had surrendered to the position his body ended up in, you began adjusting him to make sure he was as comfortable as possible. An arm was saved from its strange angle, his head was raised and placed on a plush pillow, the most luxurious of your blankets was grabbed to place on him. The whole time Sanji was mumbling sweet pet names along with his thanks.

Ever since you had mentioned sleep, Sanji felt it pulling at him. It only got worse when he moved and laid down. He was existing so sweetly in a waking dream, stuck half-lucid in a body that was being tended by your very soul. He thanked whatever lucky stars were up there and shot a “thank you” to whatever past life had earned him this; he didn’t think it could get any better than the bone deep contentment that saturated him. 

That was until you laid down next to him and started snuggling into his right side.

The feeling of your warm and soft body shifting into him until you molded perfectly against each other had one more flurry of tingles and skipping heartbeats work through him. Your cheek was nestled against the top of his pec and you were happy to find that the fabric of his dress shirt felt soft against your skin. The arm that laid over him was reached out so that your hand could rest on the shoulder opposite your head. The whispering sound of your skin brushing over the fabric of his pants filled the air as you bent your right leg just enough to nestle in between his. You couldn’t help the deep, contented sigh that left you at the pleasant feeling of his thick thighs cradling one of yours. You had nearly forgotten to pull the blanket up over the two of you with how harshly the drain from concentrating and moving your energy had started to hit you. It didn’t help that Sanji was just as enviously comfortable as he looked.

Sanji drank in every touch you offered with satisfaction and serenity. Every single one seemed to solidify the heaven that wrapped his every sense in comfort and peace. His left hand managed to make its way up and hold the hand you had rested on his shoulder. His right was placed down lovingly on your waist. You mumbled something that could’ve been “sweet dreams” and he mumbled back with just as much clarity. 

With your last waking action, you gave him a gentle squeeze then fully relaxed your body into his. Sanji stayed conscious for as long as he could, basking in the feeling of being truly held.

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No Pressure Taglist: @click-and-flash-pest-captures @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @hey-august @schoute @feral-artistry @haveatthee83

Masterlist

[knightsickness]

Hi! I hope that I don't bother you with my question. I'm asking out of genuine interest for an analysis and also because it has been 5 years since I last read any asoiaf book.

Coming from you comparison of Cersei's and Tyrion's time as Hand, what obvious mistakes did Tyrion make? I was probably not paying too proper attention because Tyrion did a lot of sympathetic things like ending Jeoffrey's terror on Sansa, or came up with a great strategy to limit casualties during Stannis invasion. His downfall struck me as Cersei conspiring against him, and Tywin taking all the credit for the work his son did. But I feel like I missed something here, and don't have all the details. (Again genuine question, not a "how dare you imply that perfect innocent angel uwu did anything wrong" way!)

i originally wrote a much longer list for this but i think the myrcella episode sums up most of the problems w tyrions politicking in microcosm

the entire point of the scheme is to embarrass cersei and undermine her with the removal of one of her spies. a lot of tyrions moves in acok are ridiculously cersei-focused because it makes him feel good to get petty wins over her he enjoys doing kings landing spy vs spy antics. constantly asking ‘what is cersei doing? does cersei know what im doing?’ when the answer to both is invariably ‘spying on each other’. when theyre still actively fighting three major enemies all this effort to plot and spy feels like it could be focused elsewhere. the scene where they laugh at stannis and renly pettily stupidly fighting each other rather than them obviously an acknowledgment of this neither of them notice

the idea to tell all the small council members different plans and then identify whichever one he told the story cersei gets mad at him for as her spy is good on paper a lot of tyrions moves are motivated by what makes him feel clever. in practice its kind of a mess

the idea of littlefinger having harrenhal is initially proposed to him by tyrion (who notes littlefinger looks extremely excited) as a reward for him arranging a hypothetical myrcella arryn match and then snatched away annoying and alienating him. its then next raised when littlefinger has obviously requested it to kevan/the tyrells/etc as his prize after the battle of the blackwater and he gets it. this isn’t necessarily direct cause and effect littlefinger always wanted to be a big lord he could have wanted harrenhal on his own but it seems like he was told he would have it, formulated his affc taking-over-the-vale plan, and then found out tyrion was fucking with him. again getting one over littlefinger makes tyrion feel good its gratifying to have the biggest schemer at court going grr you used me as a pawn and lied to me do NOT do that shit again

one of the main strengths of the situation tyrion inherits is a hypercompetent small council he immediately sets to turning on him (petyr) and giving them dangerous personal secrets (varys) while fantasising about having all their heads on spikes over the city walls

the idea of an elaborate plan to prove pycelle of all people is an incompetent lannister toady is absurd. you can tell that by talking to pycelle once. worse this makes pycelle hatee tyrion when if tyrion hadnt noticed he is ALSO a lannister he could have benefited from this !!

the sending myrcella to dorne plot that tyrion commits to lest cersei thinks he wasn’t serious and this was a finding-the-mole ploy (in which he gave them plans so obviously shocking and upsetting to cersei that if theyre her allies theyd immediately tell her) is terrible on the face of it and in affc proves to also be terrible in practice. the two outcomes are she gets crowned or killed both explicitly to start a war with the lannisters + burning one of your two spare heirs on the outing pycelle as a fraud and annoying cersei and littlefinger plan is. misguided. its insane to me he goes through w it he could still say ohh i changed my mind + let cersei think she’s persuaded him out of it (giving her a false win) or even just say yeah i was fucking with you haha you fell into my trap and exposed your own spy but he doesnt do either

tyrion’s conclusion on the plan is ‘this doesnt actually prove i can trust varys and littlefinger. theyre just untrustworthy in a subtler way. nobody in the world is as smart as me nobody has ever been this good at politics’

[myhyperfixationisiforgot]

Young Justice was such a wild show. Like. It's based off a 90's comic by the same name. It contains exactly 1 (one) character from the source media, who they immediately change beyond recognition. It used Dick Grayson's Robin and Wally West's Kid Flash, but made Roy Harper the old jaded one. Instead of Wondergirl, they gave Martian Manhunter a niece. They invented a brand new Aqualad. A random 90's villain gets shunted into Arrowette's role, arguably gets the most compelling emotional story of the entire show, and turns out to be related to half the villains they ever meet.

They're a secret black ops team made entirely of teenagers. At one point several of them die onscreen. The martian almost murders several people. There's kind of a pseudo incest plot. There is an episode that takes place almost entirely through mandated therapy sessions.

The show does actually bring in a second character from the original Young Justice, in an episode where Artemis almost dies only to be saved by Secret, the ghost of the villain's sister (who was a member of the original comics team). In the same episode, Superboy and Miss Martian trick a classmate into thinking there's an alien invasion using a Loony Tunes character. Neither of these events are ever mentioned again.

The timeline of the show means that Dick Grayson became Nightwing at 15. They accidentally create Beast Boy because Miss Martian has been impersonating his mom. Aqualad ends up as the leader of the Justice League.

Five years go by between seasons, resulting in a completely different show. I could make the argument that Young Justice was Weisman's OC fanfiction of the comic series. Everything after season 2 is unwatchable. This is the show that got me into fandom. I adore it.

[alba1221141]

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

12

(T.W bpd episode towards the end, if that's at all triggering skip Jinx's second POV <3)

Jinx

The bass thrums through the walls, vibrating my bones, and the air reeks of sweat, liquor, and the sharp tang of people pretending they belong here.

Caitlyn Kirammans party.

Fucking fantastic.

I can already feel the chaos simmering, the way the room shifts with every new body that spills in.

I like it here. I thrive on it.

But Y/N? She’s quiet, like she always is. Not her scene, not even close. But she’s here, and that’s all that matters.

She’s standing next to me, like a little wallflower in a sea of jackasses.

We’re close enough that I can feel the tension rolling off her in waves, but neither of us has said a word about it.

We don’t need to.

It’s our thing.

Our secret.

I’m half-focused on Y/N, the way she’s standing there, shoulders pulled in, trying not to get noticed.

She doesn’t belong here, not like this. She’s got a quiet aura, a stark contrast to the noisy, wild energy around us.

But she’s with me, and that’s enough to keep my blood pumping. I can’t let her get lost in the crowd.

Cait and Mel swoop in like vultures, all manicured nails and perfectly placed grins, and before I can stop it, Y/N’s wrist is in Cait’s hand.

She barely has time to glance at me before they’re dragging her away, swallowed by the mass of bodies like she was never even standing next to me in the first place.

I feel my jaw clench, but I don’t move. I could. I could storm after her, could grab her back, could tell Cait to keep her prissy little hands to herself. But I don’t.

Because that’s not how this works.

Instead, I lean back against the wall, tapping my fingers against my thigh. Watching.

Mel says something, and Y/N laughs, but it’s that tight, polite laugh, the one she does when she’s being the good girl everyone expects her to be.

I fucking hate it.

I hate how easy it is for her to put that mask on, to pretend she’s one of them. I wonder if it ever gets exhausting, all that pretending.

Then I hear it.

“Alright, time for a game,” someone calls, and the crowd shifts, bodies pressing in as the living room turns into some kind of makeshift arena.

Great.

I push off the wall, weaving my way closer, close enough to see Y/N standing there, stiff as a damn board, while Cait and Mel laugh like they’ve already won something.

There’s a table in the center, scattered with shot glasses, a deck of cards, a stupid-looking bowl filled with crumpled-up slips of paper.

Truth or dare.

Of course.

I should’ve known Caitlyn and her bougie ass parties wouldn’t settle for anything normal.

I move to the edge of the crowd, close enough that I could step in if I wanted to. But Y/N’s shoulders are squared, her chin lifted just a little.

She’s handling it.

For now.

Mel reaches into the bowl first, plucking a slip and unfolding it like it holds the secrets of the universe. Then she smirks. “Y/N,” she says, her voice silky smooth, like she’s been waiting for this.

Y/N’s fingers twitch at her sides. “Truth.”

The air fucking shifts.

The question hangs, sharp and invasive, like it’s dissecting something private.

Y/N’s breath catches, just for a split second, but it’s enough for me to notice. Her back straightens, and her eyes dart around the room, like she’s looking for an escape.

Like there’s no way out.

I hate the way everyone’s looking at her now, waiting, eager. I hate that I can feel the pressure of their gaze too.

I hate that she’s stuck, caught in this moment where she has to lie or risk her privacy.

She looks at me, just for a breath, and I see it—the panic behind her eyes.

She can’t say it.

She can’t tell them about us.

And I get it.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

“I… I don’t know,” she says finally, voice too steady, too practiced. “I haven’t really had a romantic moment recently.”

The words hit like a punch to the chest. Her voice is steady, but her eyes flicker—flicker—back to me, and I feel it.

It’s a lie.

A lie so heavy I can’t breathe.

Mel’s smile is wide and expectant, but Y/N can’t bring herself to meet it. Instead, she looks down at the floor, as if she’s trying to disappear into it.

The whole room is dead silent, like they’re waiting for her to elaborate. I can feel the weight of their curiosity, the subtle shift in energy. It’s too much. Too fucking much.

I stand there, frozen, while her words wrap around me like a noose. It’s not the truth. It’s not even close.

But I can’t force her to say it.

I won’t make her.

But God, does it hurt.

And then, without a word, Y/N stands up straighter, pasting that smile of hers back on.

It’s weak, like it’s barely holding together, but it’s there. She’s doing what she does best—pretending.

The game moves on, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted.

I can feel the distance between us growing with every breath. And I can’t help but wonder how much longer we can keep pretending.

But I don’t ask. I don’t need to.

I already know the answer.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Y/N

The weight of the moment lingers like a heavy fog, suffocating everything around me. The game moves on, people laughing, clinking glasses, like nothing’s wrong.

Like I didn’t just shatter something precious. But I feel it. The crack that just split between me and Jinx. The way her eyes—those eyes—refused to meet mine when I lied. When I denied what we were.

I don’t even realize I’m moving until I’m pushing through the crowd, desperate to catch up to her, desperate to fix whatever this is, before it breaks.

She’s already halfway out the door, her shoulders tense, her back a line of defiance. Like she’s preparing to leave. Like she’s already gone.

“Jinx!” I call, my voice a little too sharp, a little too broken, and the moment she hears me, she stops. But she doesn’t turn. She doesn’t give me the satisfaction of seeing her face, not yet.

I can hear her breath catch, feel the walls she’s putting up between us—cold, rigid, like she’s made of stone.

I take a step closer, and the words tumble out before I can stop them. “Jinx, wait. Please.”

She finally turns, but it’s not the way I want. She faces me with that look, the one that says everything’s messed up. That look that makes my chest tighten and my throat close. Her hands are clenched at her sides, her expression unreadable, like she’s afraid I’ll see too much.

“What do you want, Y/N?” Her voice is quiet, too calm, but I hear the edge underneath it, the tremor she’s hiding, and it's almost like my name tastes foul on her lips, there's no honey laced teasing. Just my name, so hollow and empty.

“Please, just let me explain,” I try again, my words tumbling over each other, desperate, pleading. “I didn’t mean it. You know I didn’t—”

“You didn’t mean it?” Her voice breaks, just a little, and I feel the sting of it deep in my chest. Her eyes narrow, and she steps forward, her gaze sharp, cutting through the distance. “You think I’m just some—some experiment to you?”

The words hit like a slap, and I stagger back, the realization sinking in like a weight I can’t shake.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Jinx, I—”

“Don’t.” She cuts me off, her voice low, deadly. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to use me when it’s convenient and then act like it’s nothing when things get real.”

Her words are a punch to the gut.

I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. I can’t form the words. Because deep down, she’s right.

“You think I’m just some fucking game, Y/N? Some person you get to play with until you’re bored?” She’s shaking now, her breath ragged, fists clenched so tight her knuckles are white. “I’m not your fucking experiment. I’m not something you get to try out when it suits you and then throw away when it’s inconvenient.”

The hurt in her voice is a raw, jagged thing. It cuts deeper than any insult, any accusation. I want to reach out, to fix it, but I don’t know how.

“You never even told them the truth,” she continues, her voice trembling with rage and pain. “You lied to everyone. You lied to me. And now you’re telling me you didn’t mean it?”

I open my mouth, but the words stick in my throat. I didn’t mean it. But the truth... the truth feels like a weight I can’t bear to carry.

“I didn’t know how to—”

“Exactly,” she snaps. “You never knew how to. You don’t know what it’s like, Y/N, to be someone’s secret. To feel like you’re not even real.”

The words fall between us like shattered glass. And in that moment, I know she’s right. I’ve been so afraid of everything—of us, of the consequences—that I forgot she was real. That she wasn’t just some thing to hide away, tucked into the corners of my life where no one could see.

But now she’s here, raw and real, and she’s done pretending.

“Jinx, I’m sorry. I... I don’t want to lose you. Not like this.”

Her expression softens, just for a moment, but it’s not enough. Not enough to erase the hurt, the feeling that she’s already slipping through my fingers.

“Then stop making me feel like I’m nothing,” she says, her voice small, broken. “I’m not your fucking secret, Y/N. And I’m not some experiment you can toss aside when it gets too hard.”

I stand there, speechless, the weight of her words pressing down on me. And for the first time, I don’t know how to fix it.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Jinx

“Pow, please, it’s scary—”

Y/N’s face is all scrunched up, like she can’t decide if she’s going to cry or scream, her little hands clutched together like they’re trying to hold herself together. She’s always been like that, so gentle, so careful.

I don’t understand it then. I don’t understand why she’s scared, why she’s pulling away. All I want is to make her laugh, to make her stop being afraid. I just want to see that soft smile, the one she only gives me.

But it’s not happening.

“Don’t be a baby, Y/N.” My voice comes out harsh, too sharp, the kind of thing that cuts when it’s not meant to. But I don’t see it. I can’t see it.

Her lip trembles, and she takes a step back.

“Pow, I—I don’t like it when you do that.”

I laugh, but it’s bitter. “What? You don’t like it when I make you laugh? When I make you feel something?”

She shakes her head, eyes wide, like she’s suddenly seeing me for the first time. It’s like the ground is shifting beneath me, and I don’t know how to stop it.

“Pow…”

I don’t hear her. I’m already moving, already too far gone in my head to care about her feelings. The world around me is spinning, and I’m trapped in it, my thoughts fraying. I want to push her, make her laugh again, make her stop being scared.

But instead, I see it. I see her, backing away from me, her small hands held up like shields, like I’m the thing she’s afraid of.

“Stop,” she whispers, so softly, so quietly, but it cuts deeper than anything she could’ve yelled at me.

And I freeze.

Because I’ve broken her.

“Y/N…”

“I can’t... be your friend anymore, Powder.”

Her words hit harder than any slap. They feel like they’re carving into me, leaving jagged pieces behind.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Nothing that makes sense. I can’t fix it. I can’t make it better.

And she’s already gone.

I watch her walk away, and I can feel the walls closing in. My heart is pounding in my ears, and all I want is to reach out, to stop her, but my legs won’t move.

She’s gone.

And I never knew how to make her stay.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

The sound of my breathing is jagged—too loud—and I can’t catch it, like I’m suffocating on it.

It’s all I can hear. I’m drowning in it, in every breath that feels too thick, too wrong.

The walls are closing in.

The room is too small.

Too tight.

My chest—fuck—feels like someone’s wrapped their hands around my ribs and is squeezing, squeezing until I can’t take it anymore.

No—

I try to inhale, but my lungs are—they’re full of nothing.

I’m gasping, barely breathing, struggling to get air, struggling to stop my heart from exploding out of my chest.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

The thoughts start coming, jagged, violent, louder and louder, and I can’t escape them.

They’re fucking everywhere, stabbing me in the head like knives, ripping through my mind like a hurricane.

You fucked up. You always fuck up.

She’ll never love you.

I scream—louder, but it’s not enough.

It’s not enough to drown out the voices.

God, it’s not enough.

I can’t think.

I can’t feel anything but this, this overwhelming pressure, this suffocating weight pressing down on me, crushing me, until I’m nothing but a pile of shaking limbs.

I claw at my face, trying to make it stop, but the tears—they won’t stop.

Hot, fast, stinging, falling in streams I can’t control. My skin’s crawling.

I’m so fucking hot, like I’m burning alive, but then I feel cold, too cold, like I’m freezing from the inside out.

I scream again, a primal, ugly sound, and my hands shake so violently that they’re hitting the floor, knocking things over.

I don’t know what’s real anymore.

The walls are spinning. The floor is spinning.

I can’t make it stop.

Why didn’t you say it? Why didn’t you fight for her?

You fucked up.

I’m on my knees now, rocking back and forth, my body jerked with each shudder, each scream, each thought crashing through my skull.

I can’t stop moving. I can’t stop anything.

She doesn’t care.

YOU’RE NOTHING.

I can’t breathe. I clutch my chest, fingers digging into my skin, feeling the panic, the fire, the ice, the suffocating, overwhelming nothing that’s making me fucking disappear.

Why didn’t you just leave her alone?

You don’t matter. You never mattered.

I can’t hold it together. I can’t fix it. I can’t do anything but shake, scream, hurt.

And the voices—they’re fucking louder.

No one loves you!

You're a fucking mess!

I pull at my hair, tears streaming, gasping between sobs, but nothing helps. The world is spinning, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make it stop.

I scream again, thrashing, but there’s no relief. There’s nothing.

I’m drowning.

I’m drowning.

I close my eyes, wishing I could just stop, wishing I could just disappear. Anything. Anything to make it stop.

But it never does.

It never fucking stops.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: so the honeymoon phase wasn't for long, but there will be a very nice reconciliation

please like and reblog <3

also timebomb fic is out, if you like mary janes so far, it's a similar writing style and setting so go check it out :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62833570/chapters/160875787

[torisprlng]

SECRET INVASION | 1X02: PROMISES

Matter of fact, neither is this train compartment.

[lilcinnamonbear]

Remember when we all watched Secret Invasion thinking Daisy Johnson would appear and then they instead killed off Maria Hill?

No? Yeah me neither…

[mostlysignssomeportents]

At long last, a meaningful step to protect Americans' privacy

This Saturday (19 Aug), I'm appearing at the San Diego Union-Tribune Festival of Books. I'm on a 2:30PM panel called "Return From Retirement," followed by a signing:

https://www.sandiegouniontribune.com/festivalofbooks

Privacy raises some thorny, subtle and complex issues. It also raises some stupid-simple ones. The American surveillance industry's shell-game is founded on the deliberate confusion of the two, so that the most modest and sensible actions are posed as reductive, simplistic and unworkable.

Two pillars of the American surveillance industry are credit reporting bureaux and data brokers. Both are unbelievably sleazy, reckless and dangerous, and neither faces any real accountability, let alone regulation.

Remember Equifax, the company that doxed every adult in America and was given a mere wrist-slap, and now continues to assemble nonconsensual dossiers on every one of us, without any material oversight improvements?

https://memex.craphound.com/2019/07/20/equifax-settles-with-ftc-cfpb-states-and-consumer-class-actions-for-700m/

Equifax's competitors are no better. Experian doxed the nation again, in 2021:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/30/dox-the-world/#experian

It's hard to overstate how fucking scummy the credit reporting world is. Equifax invented the business in 1899, when, as the Retail Credit Company, it used private spies to track queers, political dissidents and "race mixers" so that banks and merchants could discriminate against them:

https://jacobin.com/2017/09/equifax-retail-credit-company-discrimination-loans

As awful as credit reporting is, the data broker industry makes it look like a paragon of virtue. If you want to target an ad to "Rural and Barely Making It" consumers, the brokers have you covered:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/13/public-interest-pharma/#axciom

More than 650,000 of these categories exist, allowing advertisers to target substance abusers, depressed teens, and people on the brink of bankruptcy:

https://themarkup.org/privacy/2023/06/08/from-heavy-purchasers-of-pregnancy-tests-to-the-depression-prone-we-found-650000-ways-advertisers-label-you

These companies follow you everywhere, including to abortion clinics, and sell the data to just about anyone:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/07/safegraph-spies-and-lies/#theres-no-i-in-uterus

There are zillions of these data brokers, operating in an unregulated wild west industry. Many of them have been rolled up into tech giants (Oracle owns more than 80 brokers), while others merely do business with ad-tech giants like Google and Meta, who are some of their best customers.

As bad as these two sectors are, they're even worse in combination – the harms data brokers (sloppy, invasive) inflict on us when they supply credit bureaux (consequential, secretive, intransigent) are far worse than the sum of the harms of each.

And now for some good news. The Consumer Finance Protection Bureau, under the leadership of Rohit Chopra, has declared war on this alliance:

https://www.techdirt.com/2023/08/16/cfpb-looks-to-restrict-the-sleazy-link-between-credit-reporting-agencies-and-data-brokers/

They've proposed new rules limiting the trade between brokers and bureaux, under the Fair Credit Reporting Act, putting strict restrictions on the transfer of information between the two:

https://www.cnn.com/2023/08/15/tech/privacy-rules-data-brokers/index.html

As Karl Bode writes for Techdirt, this is long overdue and meaningful. Remember all the handwringing and chest-thumping about Tiktok stealing Americans' data to the Chinese military? China doesn't need Tiktok to get that data – it can buy it from data-brokers. For peanuts.

The CFPB action is part of a muscular style of governance that is characteristic of the best Biden appointees, who are some of the most principled and competent in living memory. These regulators have scoured the legislation that gives them the power to act on behalf of the American people and discovered an arsenal of action they can take:

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

Alas, not all the Biden appointees have the will or the skill to pull this trick off. The corporate Dems' darlings are mired in #LearnedHelplessness, convinced that they can't – or shouldn't – use their prodigious powers to step in to curb corporate power:

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

And it's true that privacy regulation faces stiff headwinds. Surveillance is a public-private partnership from hell. Cops and spies love to raid the surveillance industries' dossiers, treating them as an off-the-books, warrantless source of unconstitutional personal data on their targets:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/16/ring-ring-lapd-calling/#ring

These powerful state actors reliably intervene to hamstring attempts at privacy law, defending the massive profits raked in by data brokers and credit bureaux. These profits, meanwhile, can be mobilized as lobbying dollars that work lawmakers and regulators from the private sector side. Caught in the squeeze between powerful government actors (the true "Deep State") and a cartel of filthy rich private spies, lawmakers and regulators are frozen in place.

Or, at least, they were. The CFPB's discovery that it had the power all along to curb commercial surveillance follows on from the FTC's similar realization last summer:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/12/regulatory-uncapture/#conscious-uncoupling

I don't want to pretend that all privacy questions can be resolved with simple, bright-line rules. It's not clear who "owns" many classes of private data – does your mother own the fact that she gave birth to you, or do you? What if you disagree about such a disclosure – say, if you want to identify your mother as an abusive parent and she objects?

But there are so many stupid-simple privacy questions. Credit bureaux and data-brokers don't inhabit any kind of grey area. They simply should not exist. Getting rid of them is a project of years, but it starts with hacking away at their sources of profits, stripping them of defenses so we can finally annihilate them.

I'm kickstarting the audiobook for "The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation," a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and make a new, good internet to succeed the old, good internet. It's a DRM-free book, which means Audible won't carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

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/2023/08/16/the-second-best-time-is-now/#the-point-of-a-system-is-what-it-does

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

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

[the-curator1]

In the Darkness of your dreams

Demon!Copia x Fem!Reader

Author Note: This story was inspired by the fantastic fic Call Me, Little Sunshine by @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe. If you haven't read it, go do it now! It's a gem. English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes, please don't hesitate to point them out to me.

This one is quite sweet? But I'll promise I'll be more spooky next time.

Summary: It is not easy being a demon. It gets lonely sometimes in a cold empty house. While it can be funny and thrilling to be all threatening and scary, sometimes all he would need is a companion. (≈6500 words)

Tags and TW: Copia POV, reader POV, kind of love at first sight (because I'm a hopeless romantic), home invasion, men being absolute creeps, but Copia is kind of your guardian angel demon, a hint of angst, spooky vibes, a very vivid dream, smut (my first smutty fic)

The old house groaned with the weight of its own history. Copia knew all of its secrets all too well, for he had been bound to this forsaken place for many years now. It was not easy being a demon. Actually, most of the time, it was very lonely. The initial thrill of scaring the inhabitants of the house had long given way to a profound loneliness that gnawed at him like a relentless hunger.

At first, he took delight in watching people flee in terror, their screams of sheer horror echoing in the cold, dimly lit hallways. He revelled in the satisfaction of driving them away. If anyone displeased him, as was often the case, he would relentlessly ensure they never returned.  He would slam doors with thunderous force, create eerie and unsettling noises, whisper chilling words into their ears, break their belongings, make their dog bark and occasionally if pushed to the brink of anger, he would even resort to biting or scratching the intruders. However, he would really show himself on very rare occasions.

But now, it had been an eternity since anyone had dared to settle within the walls of the house. The last intruders had been no more than fleeting shadows, and even their presence had ceased to amuse him. As Copia lingered in the darkness, he pondered the cruel irony of his existence, bound to a house he had come to hate, condemned to an eternity of solitude and yearning for something he could not quite define.

But one day, a man crossed the threshold of the old house. He was neither young nor old, with a presence that sent shivers down Copia's spine. The demon felt something unsettling about this visitor. Even a demon such as him could feel something was off. Instead of unleashing his usual frightful antics, Copia watched, his cold eyes fixed on this new intruder. For a moment, the man inspected the damaged house. It was only after a while that Copia realized the man was surely the new owner: he saw the “For sale” sign in front of the house being removed a few days ago.

His suspicions were confirmed when a group of men in work overalls invaded his place in the following days. They laboured tirelessly, painting the walls, mending the creaking stairs, and reviving the old house. Copia knew what this was about– someone was going to settle in the house. Copia hoped it was not the man that he saw for he did not like him… not at all.

As the once-desolate rooms transformed with each brushstroke and hammer strike, Copia's world shifted with them. The air was filled with the scent of fresh paint, the echoes of hammers and saws, and the laughter of the workers. Copia was not pleased with their unbearable hurly-burly however he decided not to disturb their work. These men were doing nothing but their job, and Copia liked to think of himself as a considerate demon. Moreover, he could not help but wonder what surprise destiny had in store for him… 

And this surprise was you. 

One fateful morning, Copia laid his eyes upon you. There you stood on the threshold of the freshly painted wooden front door, holding a suitcase in your delicate hand Copia felt his heart beating out of his chest… if he had one. You were a vision of radiance, stunning and alluring. Your lustrous hair, your gleaming eyes, the elegant contour of your nose, the outline of your lips, and the captivating curves of your body. Copia was well aware that you could not see him unless he allowed it.

He summoned the courage to approach you, drawn in by your magnetic presence, when... He saw him. The man from last time. This bald fucker. He appeared behind you, his eyes cold and unrelenting. a surge of cold anger seized Copia’s chest. A low growl rumbled in his spectral form.

You took a step forward when you felt him behind you, unease clearly etched on your face as the man inched closer. He casually placed a hand on your waist.

“How do you like the entrance hall, Miss?” he asked, his voice oozing with a sly and unsettling grin.

Copia's anger grew as he observed the scene unfold.

“I love it,” you said, your voice was like a melody to Copia’s ear.

His anger quickly subsided, he was focused on you again. At least you were not receptive to the man’s obvious advances. He started to show you around the house. Copia quietly followed you, his eyes never leaving you. 

As the bald man concluded the tour of the house and engaged in conversation with you, Copia couldn't help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you, an unsettling gaze that made Copia's blood boil.

However, Copia's mood shifted when he witnessed the man presenting you with a set of keys, a wide smile gracing his face. At this moment, the lonely demon knew it was the start of something known… Maybe something good? 

The movers had left. A peaceful silence enveloped the house, only disturbed by the gentle hum of your voice. You were meticulously arranging your numerous books on a shelf. Copia was hidden in the shadows, watching you closely from the dark corner you had chosen as your bedroom.

You were nothing short of enchanting in his eyes, the most beautiful thing he had seen in his long, lonely existence. He longed to draw closer, to be near you, to feel your earthly warmth. His spectral form shifted in your direction, inching closer, driven by a desire he had never felt before.

But clumsy as he was, in his attempt to approach, Copia inadvertently knocked over an old chandelier you had placed on a nearby table. The sudden crash startled you, and you swiftly turned around, eyes wide with alarm. Copia's heart, if he had one, pounded in his chest. He did not want to scare you! He already knew he would not try to drive you away, not ever. You were his chance not to be lonely anymore.

You carefully approached and picked up the chandelier, a slight frown grazing your beautiful face. Copia watched in silence, concealed in the shadows. For a moment, you looked around, your eyes scanning the room as if trying to make sense of the unexpected disturbance. After a brief pause, you placed the chandelier back on the table, ensuring it wouldn't teeter too close to the edge. Copia could finally breathe again: you probably thought the chandelier had fallen by itself…  Then you left the room, and the demon followed you like a love-sick puppy.

On that evening, Copia continued to observe you as you prepared for bed. His spectral gaze followed your every movement, his fascination growing with every passing moment. Your grace and beauty held him captivated, as you went about your routine, unaware of his watchful gaze. His longing, however, remained a silent ache within him, a desire to be closer, to understand you better. Copia yearned for a connection beyond the bounds of his spectral form.

Not now… I don’t want to scare her. 

For now, he observed your every move, his gaze lingering on your silhouette as you undressed. You were gorgeous. Even Mother Lilith would be jealous of your beauty. He felt a growing ache in his chest, an ache that could only be soothed by the touch of your skin…

He wanted to touch you.

When you slipped beneath the covers and turned off the bedside lamp, you were asleep within moments. The weariness from the day's work had claimed you, leaving you vulnerable in the quiet, moonlit room. Copia emerged from the darkest corners of the dimly lit chamber, his form silent as he ventured closer.

He longued to touch you. 

His clawed hands barely grazed your bare arm. The warmth of your body and the softness of your skin sent shivers down his spectral form, a sensation he had not experienced in an eternity. He knew it was wrong to take advantage of your slumber. He knew he could wake you up and scare you to death. But he could not help himself.  And he was a demon after all, why couldn’t he indulge in a bit of wickedness?  Moreover, his intentions were not really malevolent.

So, he gave in to his desire, tracing his fingers across your face, through your hair, and down your legs, which were revealed by your short nightgown. He even placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. Copia believed his touch was to be soft enough not to wake you, and indeed, you slept peacefully until morning's first light filtered through the curtains.

As you stirred in your sleep, a sign that you would soon awaken, Copia hastily retreated into the shadows even if he knew you could not quite see him. His ghostly form disappeared from view. Copia watched you as you stretched, and then, you got up and walked to the bathroom. He was about to follow you when he heard you gasp loudly.

“What the hell!” your voice echoed through the house.

Worry gripped Copia, and he rushed to the bathroom. There, he found you standing in front of the mirror, your eyes fixed on numerous scratch marks that scarred your arms… And on the trace of black paint on your cheek.

Guilt started to gnaw at Copia's demon heart. As he watched you in your fear and confusion, he knew that he was the cause of those scratch marks. He had only wanted to caress you, to feel the warmth of your living body, not to hurt you… How could he have believed he could possess a gentle touch? What had he been thinking? In that moment, Copia was haunted by his own actions and the realization that his desire had brought fear and harm to the very person he longed to be with.

Copia watched in silence as you picked up your phone and called someone. He figured you were talking to one of your friends. He observed you frantically explaining what had happened: the chandelier falling, the scratch marks. Your voice was trembling with fear. But as your friend spoke, he noticed a change. You seemed to grow calmer. Copia strained to hear the distant voice on the other end of the line.

“You probably moved in your sleep, you did that to yourself, darl… as for the trace on your face, you said you used paint to work in your house right?”

“Yes…” you answered in a quiet voice

“See? There is nothing to worry about,” your friend's voice assured you.

Copia's invisible presence remained in the shadows as you hung up a few moments later. He felt that you were still a bit agitated but relieved.  The demon followed you as you moved about the house, preparing yourself for the day. His guilt was soon replaced by desire and longing again. He wanted to be near you again. But next time, he would need to be more careful. Maybe next time, he will try something else…

In the afternoon, a knock echoed on your door. Opening it, you were greeted by the sight of your landlord, a smug grin on his face. Copia emitted a low growl at the sight of that man once more... What could he possibly want this time?

"Hi, Miss," the man greeted, leaning casually against the doorframe. "I just wanted to check if everything is going well for you. Have you settled in comfortably?"

“Y-Yeah” you replied, a fake smile on your beautiful lips “Everything is okay thank you, sir”

Copia's presence loomed nearby, watching carefully the interaction. 

“Wonderful,” the landlord said, his voice lowering an octave

He leaned closer to you, and you took a hesitant step back. Copia keenly observed your discomfort. A fiery anger swelled in his spectral chest. How dare this man intrude on your personal space and make you feel uneasy?

Your eyes widened, and a sense of unease washed over you.

“Uh… I don’t know,” you began, your voice wavering. “I don’t think so... I still have work to do.”

The man's expression darkened briefly, and he scowled at your response. Then, his unsettling smile returned.

“Oh, that’s okay,” he said, his tone dripping with insincerity. “I'll ask you again when you have more time…”

You merely nodded as the man finally left, and Copia watched in silence as you closed the door behind him. He longed to comfort you, to alleviate the distress you felt, but what could he do from the shadows? 

However, you seemed to gather your composure, making an effort to put the encounter behind you. Moments later, you put on your coat, grabbed your car keys, and left the house. Copia was left alone with his thoughts, haunted by the image of your lovely, sweet presence. He wanted all of you.  And he wanted you all to himself. That man was definitely going to be a problem.

When you got back home with the groceries, the night had already settled in, shrouding your garden in darkness. At first, you just wanted to go out to get some groceries but you ended up spending the afternoon at the mall. You needed that. The strange noises, the scratch marks, you weird landlord… You needed some time to think and to take a step back and you began to reconsider it all. Perhaps it was all a product of your overactive imagination. After all, this was a new beginning, a fresh chapter in your life, the house was ancient, and your head was full of ghost stories. As for the landlord… creepy men were everywhere, you just had to be careful. The rent was really low and you did not want to leave your dream house for some mediocre disgusting man. 

You got out your keys to unlock the door. At that very instant, your gaze was drawn to a peculiar sight. There, on the first-floor window, was the shadowy outline of a tall figure, its eyes glowing like eerie beacons, fixed on you. But as quickly as you blinked, the apparition vanished into thin air. You felt your heart start to beat faster, but you tried to calm down anyway… You were really tired, were you not? 

Pushing the door open, you entered cautiously. Your heart was pounding with the fear that an intruder might have entered your house. 

"Hello?" you called out, your voice shaking

With your groceries set aside and the door closed and locked behind you, you retrieved your trusty pepper spray from your bag. And so, you embarked on a meticulous search of your home, meticulously inspecting every closet and even peeking beneath the bed. However, no one was there. A sense of relief washed over you. You really needed some sleep. 

After a comforting shower, you went through your familiar nighttime rituals, determined to brush off the unsettling events of the day. You did your best to disregard the creaks and groans of the aging house.

It’s a super old house, you tried to convince yourself, it makes noises, it’s nothing but normal.

Moments later, you found yourself in bed, cocooned in the safety of your covers, determined to tune out the persistent creaking of the old wooden floor in the house. With each creak and pop, you tried to convince yourself it was just the house settling, just a strange symphony of its ancient timbers. Eventually, the comforting embrace of sleep began to sweep you away, and you allowed yourself to succumb to its soothing embrace.

“If this world is wearing thin

And you're thinking of escape

I'll go anywhere with you…”

A gentle, velvety voice beckoned to you as you were standing in the entry hall. Its cadence was soft and enchanting, a siren's call in the dark. Instead of inciting fear, it drew you closer to it. As you followed the voice, your surroundings transformed. The house dissolved into a serene, velvety darkness, wrapping you in a shroud of calmness. It was like being enveloped in a plush, black coat or floating in an infinite pool of inky tranquillity. You climbed up the stairs slowly as the voice continued to sing.

“Just wrap me up in chains

But if you try to go alone

Don't think I'll understand”

You were irresistibly attracted to the voice. Now, you were walking in the corridor that led toward your room. 

“Stay with me…”

You were acutely aware that the voice was calling out to you, and it sent a flurry of a thousand butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It was so seductive, so alluring… It was impossible to resist. The voice drew you closer with every word. You got to the red-painted door of your room. You put your hand on the doorknob. 

“In the silence of your room

In the darkness of your dreams

You must only think of me…”

The voice was getting more and more seductive, more and more sultry. And you felt a growing heat between your legs. You opened the door.

“... There can be no in-between

When your pride is on the floor

I'll make you beg for more”

There he was. The man to whom this enchanting voice belonged. His eyes were a mesmerizing juxtaposition, one a gentle shade of green, akin to the soft caress of a feather, while the other was white, cold, and empty, like the sharp sting of a needle. His face was a canvas painted in black and white, with hollow sockets drawn around his eyes and a mouth contorted into the eerie visage of a skull. But how you found him attractive… you found him so very handsome. His outstretched hand beckoned you. You moved closer to him as if in a trance. He said your name before his voice started to sing again.

“Stay with me…”

Like an automaton, you walked toward him. What was this man doing in your room? Who was he? You did not know. In fact, you could not care less about the answer.

You found yourself standing before him, your hand instinctively reaching for his. Your gaze remained locked onto his enigmatic eyes. His painted lips curved into a captivating smile, and he gently raised your hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss on your knuckles.

"Now, you belong to me, dolcezza," he whispered, his voice a sultry blend of desire and affection, wrapping you in an irresistible enchantment.

His gaze burned with an intensity of raw desire that left you feeling as if the world were spinning around you. His white eyes were glowing like the sharpest diamond. In that moment, all you could perceive was an enveloping silence with his voice being the sole existence in your reality. 

Suddenly, the man pulled you toward him and his mouth began to ravish your neck. His gloved hands roamed your body, an almost electric touch. A gasp escaped your lips as he effortlessly lifted you and gently tossed you onto your bed. In the blink of an eye, he was on top of you, his mouth continuing its exploration of the delicate skin of your neck. A fiery passion enveloped both of you, threatening to burn you whole. His hands were now on your thighs, exploring the sensitive skin. Your entire being was consumed by an intense, burning desire for him. It was an insatiable longing, a burning hunger that had taken hold of you.

"Mine, all mine..." the man growled, his words resonating with this feral, possessive energy.

You somehow knew that he was not human; the growls, these unearthly eyes, that aura about him. But in that moment, in the throes of desire and pleasure, you could not have cared less about all of that. All that mattered was the intoxicating connection that bound you together. And like that, almost without thought, his name escaped your lips. 

"Copia..." you whispered a name that seemed to flow from some dark corner of your mind

You felt him smile against your heated skin. His mouth continued its scorching journey, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. There was a pause, his lips hovering just above yours. Then, he captured your mouth with a fierce and passionate kiss, a clash of teeth and tongues that left you moaning into his kiss. Your hands roamed his back with equal intensity, while your legs locked around his hips. You desperately wanted to pull him closer. Copia's hips eagerly moved against yours. Finally, he broke the kiss, leaving you breathless, panting for more, and utterly consumed by a desire that had become impossible to deny.

“Oh Lucifer, amore… Let me have you” he murmured “Say yes to me…”

You did not even have to think. You nodded eagerly.

“Yes. Oh, yes, please… Copia”

In an instant, his painted lips were on you again. A gasp of pleasure escaped your lips as he swiftly and decisively removed your nightgown, leaving you exposed to his fervent desires. It seems like he was everywhere all at once. His clawed hands traced a path across your skin, marking you with fiery scratch marks that only intensified the pleasure. You didn't mind the marks, in fact, they were making you even more excited.

His name became a sacred mantra, a litany that you repeated. The passion between you both grew with every breath, every whisper of his name. He gave more kisses on your chest, on your stomach. Then with fervent passion, he peppered your thighs with heated kisses, leaving smudged black paint on your skin as a sensual mark of his presence. The intense heat between your legs had become almost unbearable, causing your thighs to glisten with the undeniable signs of your arousal.

With the same impulsiveness that had marked his earlier actions, he tore away your panties, a sudden, thrilling act that made you yelp. It left a faint burn and a red mark on your skin, sensations he promptly soothed with tender caresses and soft kisses. Then, with unbridled desire, he began to lap at the wetness on the skin in your inner thighs, igniting a fire of passion that left you gasping and trembling.

“You taste so good, amore… so good” he purred as his mouth drew nearer to your most intimate area.

His tongue then moved with an electrifying swiftness, delving between your delicate folds, drawing incontrollable squirms and gasps of unbridled pleasure from you. His fervent attention was akin to a starved man feasting, and his primal growls reverberated through your core, stirring a wild, untamed desire within you. Your fingers tangled in his greying hair as moans spilled from your lips, refusing to be contained.

You gazed downward, you saw his white eyes filled with enchanting mischief that sent a shiver of longing down your spine. With every passing moment, you inched closer and closer to the precipice, teetering on the edge of an impending ecstasy that promised to consume you entirely. There was no trace of fear, not even a fleeting second of doubt. In this captivating moment, fear was eclipsed by an overwhelming sense of vitality and desire.

You had never felt so alive… 

Alive.

Your eyes snapped open, and reality crashed in on you. The room felt stiflingly warm, and your breath came in laboured gasps. As you looked around, you realized that you were still in your own bed. It had all been a vivid, intoxicating dream. A wave of profound disappointment washed over you, leaving you with a lingering ache in your chest. The intensity of that dream had awakened desires and feelings within you like never before. In that ephemeral world, you had felt wanted, desirable, and perhaps even loved in a way you had never experienced in waking life. The contrast between the dream and reality left a bittersweet yearning.

The vivid memory of his touch, his heated breath against your skin, and the sensation of his tongue between your legs lingered in your mind, leaving your body burning with the memory of his passion. Who was this man? Have you encountered him before? Why did he feel so unearthly, so unlike any human? These questions swirled through your thoughts until you came to a realization: it was merely a dream, after all… wasn’t it?

Copia had entered your dreams that night. He was aware it was bad. But he was a demon for Lucifer’s sake, it was in his nature! And it’s not like he could control the reaction you had in your own dream.  He knew he could have frightened you, but you seemed so responsive… you wanted him. Copia had retreated into a corner of the room when you woke up. Why on earth did you have to wake up by the way? The demon was still mad with desire at this point and mad with love. You were so lovely, so sweet, how he longed to be near you again, to feel your warmth not only in your dream this time, to take you as his own…

Copia's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. You were absent that afternoon. You left about one hour ago, were you already back? The demon cautiously moved toward the entrance hall, his presence hidden in the darkness. He froze when he saw the one who had entered: your landlord, that disgusting man. Copia's spectral form quivered with unease as he watched the man climb up the stairs and enter your room. Copia followed him quickly, making sure to cause the loudest noises when climbing the stairs. But that did not seem to disturb the man who was already focused on his perverted purpose.

Copia found him opening your closet, and digging through your drawer. The man took a pair of panties in his hands and put them against his nose. It was too much for Copia, way too much He would not let someone disrespect you and pry on you in such a way. With a supernatural surge of power, the demon forcefully slammed the drawer shut on the intruder's hand, prompting a piercing cry of agony.

"What the...?" The intruder managed to utter before chaos ensued.

Before he could do or say anything else, Copia lunged forward, seizing the man's arm with his clawed fingers, his voice oozing menace.

"Seeking some thrills, your fucking pervert?"

The man spun around to witness the demon standing inches away. Copia bared pointed, razor-sharp teeth and let out a guttural snarl, resembling a monstrous, otherworldly feline. His eyes blazed with intensity, like the very fires of hell itself. A blood-curdling scream erupted from the intruder's trembling lips as he scrambled up the stairs, fleeing the house with the same haste with which he had arrived, knocking over some stuff in his flight. Copia chuckled darkly to himself, confident that, landlord or not, the man would never dare to disturb you again.

When you arrived back home, you were surprised to find the door unlocked. An feeling of unease crept over you. Had you genuinely forgotten to lock it, or was it your exhaustion playing tricks on your mind? You couldn't help but chastise yourself for being so tired and disoriented, especially after the vivid dream that had lingered in your thoughts.

As you cautiously entered the house, your eyes were drawn to a plant knocked over in the entry hall. It was a clear sign that something or someone had disturbed your home. You recalled your books, the ghost stories… you recalled everything that had happened since you moved in.

“Hello? I know you’re here…” you declared with a hint of hesitation in your voice

You climbed up the stairs to find the door to your room wide open. You were certain you had closed it.

"Did you do that? It's okay, I'm not mad..." you assured, as you moved through the house, searching for any sign of a presence. 

However, your calls went unanswered, and the eerie silence persisted. In a moment of impulse, without overthinking, you uttered a single name.

"Copia?"

You called the name repeatedly, a sense of longing in your voice, but there was no response. The silence in the house grew heavy, stretching into minutes. In a moment of self-doubt, you couldn't help but laugh at your own foolishness. How could you have thought that… 

But then, it all became clear. It hit you all at once. The pieces of the puzzle clicked together. The noises, the objects falling over, the figure at the window that night, the scratch marks, the trace of paint on your cheek, the dream… There had to be something in this house! And that thing was in your dream last night. But you were not afraid… for you felt he was not trying to hurt you. 

“I know you are here,” you repeated out loud “You cannot hide in the darkness forever…”

Silence.

“Please, show yourself… I just want to see you”

Silence again. 

Maybe you were going crazy… ?

You went about your day, trying to distract yourself by unpacking the last of the boxes. But your mind continued to drift, haunted by the vivid memories of your encounter with Copia. The sensation of being watched lingered, a disquieting feeling that refused to fade… but maybe your mind was playing tricks on you again? 

As the night wore on, sleep eluded you. Your thoughts were consumed by the memory of his eyes, the sensation of his breath against your skin, and the ghostly touch of his hands on your body. The longing became unbearable, and you found yourself unable to resist the yearning that had taken hold.

In the solitude of your room, your own hands began to trace a path across your body, traveling slowly down to your thighs. With your eyes closed, you conjured the image of him in your mind.

"Copia..." you sighed his name, a whispered plea.

Just as your hand slipped in your panties, a weight settled on your bed, and a presence made itself known. You opened your eyes to find him. He was hovering above you with a mischievous grin, a spark of desire flickering in his mismatched eyes. His gaze held a fiery longing but there was affection in eyes. A gasp of surprise escaped your lips, yet you remained still, enthralled by the intensity of the moment. Your cheeks were red to be caught in such an intimate moment… you knew he was watching you the whole time.

“Did you call for me, amore?”  his now familiar voice purred 

"Copia..." you whispered, your voice tinged with anticipation 

“Yes, amore… I have come for you, at last,”

His nose playfully nudged your neck as he pressed his body to yours. The sensations were so vivid that you couldn't help but question the dream-like quality of it all.

“Oh please, tell me this is not a dream…” 

"It's not, not this time…" he assured, his voice a soft murmur as he kissed the tender spot behind your ear. "Are you afraid of me?"

“No,” you said without hesitation. “Should I?”

He stopped kissing your neck to look at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions.

You met his gaze with unwavering determination and reached out to touch his face. "I believe I know what you are, and it doesn't frighten me..."

“Oh, cara mia…”

He leaned in to kiss the corner of your mouth while his hands began to explore your body. The sensation felt so much more real than the dream you had…

“Why didn’t you come when I called you earlier?” you asked in a hushed tone.

“I hesitated. I did not want to scare you, amore… I felt so guilty when you found those scratches on your body…”

He sounded a bit sad, and you gently caressed his face.

“I don’t want you to go, cara. You… You are my light. I want you to stay with me.”

Your eyes went wide. You did not expect to see an unearthly creature like him in such a vulnerable state. 

“I won’t go…” you whispered “Not ever…”

He gave you a tender smile. 

“You are such a treasure… You were sent to me by Lucifer himself.”

His voice quivered with emotions as he spoke. His words made you blush. His hands resumed their exploration of your body. He pressed himself against you. Your body felt so warm, so hot. 

“Do you want me?” he whispered in your ear

He pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his lips warm and eager.

“Let me have you…” he whispered, much like in the dream.

“Yes, Copia… please, take me.”

He wouldn't need to be asked twice. With a low, feral growl, he lifted your nightgown above your head, leaving you almost naked and exposed to him. He lunged forward and began to suck and lick on your breasts with fervour. You moaned loudly, the heady desire drowning out the thought that someone could hear you cry out. As he pressed his hips against you, you could feel the hardness of his arousal, and it sent shivers of desire cascading through your body. The intensity of the moment was almost overwhelming, as you surrendered to the raw, unbridled passion that consumed you both. He was worshipping your body like no one did before.

He straightened up to look at you.

“Belissima…” he murmured as his clawed hands went to your panties, hastily removing them 

You blushed profusely. 

“Why don't you finish what you started, cara mia?” he purred, gazing down at you with raw desire, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“What... What do you mean?” you stuttered, your mind dizzy with want.

“Don't play innocent, my love… I saw you.”

You blushed even more when you finally understood what he meant. A mischievous smile played on his painted lips, he patiently waited. With your cheeks painted red, your hands moved toward your inner thighs once more. You began to touch yourself for him, your fingers playing on your pussy. Your eyes were not leaving his as you moaned, giving in to the irresistible allure of his desires. He started to undress before your eyes, this was only fueling your desire. He was so handsome in your eyes. 

“Copia…” you whispered as he stood naked before your eyes. Your voice quivered with pleasure. “You are so handsome…”

He beamed upon hearing your words, and you could swear you saw a hint of a blush on his painted features.

“You are beautiful, so beautiful…” he murmured, his voice heavy with desire as he watched you.

As you felt yourself getting closer to the edge, you sensed his hand gently covering yours.

“That's enough, cara… I think you need more than just your fingers.”

You nodded eagerly as he moved closer, settling between your opened legs. 

“You are gorgeous, mia amata… You are mine forever,” he whispered tenderly, his voice filled with love and affection.

He positioned himself, his cock near your entrance, playfully teasing you for a moment. Your restlessness under him drew a chuckle from his lips, and he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. 

“So eager… I love it” 

Then he pushed his cock inside you. You gasped, your moan catching in your throat. He entered you slowly, inch by inch until he was all the way inside. His glowing eyes were locked in yours. He was looking at you like you were the most precious jewel. 

“Such a good girl, taking me so well” he purred, his voice laced with desire

Copia's hips started to move languidly on yours, in a slow and sensual dance. His cock was stretching you so perfectly, reaching all the right spots. You were feeling so full, so whole. You pulled him closer as if you wanted to melt your body into his.

"Oh, you feel so good, amore"

He was not holding back his moan. He was very vocal, it was absolute music to your ears. His name spilled from your lips like a blasphemous prayer.  He started to pick up the pace, moving more passionately, more quickly. His low moans were now mixed with feral growls. But he was still so considerate with you, running his hand through your hair, caressing your skin. He was scratching your skin with his claws but you did not care… Sex had never felt so intimate before. He was thrusting inside you with such raw passion, it was nothing short of blissful.

"You were made for me," he said in between moans "You are mine, all mine!"

You felt it build up inside of you again.

“Copia! I’m going to…” you whimpered, throwing back in the pillow

“Me too, amore-ah!” 

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your body quivered by pleasure as you clung into the sheets, your head was spinning as you fell into the arms of bliss. He gave a few more thrusts before his release. Your name escaped his lips as he spilled inside you, his clawed hand clutching your waist. You would certainly have bruises afterward but you couldn't care less. 

He fell onto you, breathing heavily, his head resting against your chest. You reached out to run your fingers gently through his hair. You both remained in this intimate embrace for a while, the sensation of pleasure still tingling on your skin. He hummed contentedly while you continued to stroke his hair.  With a gentle kiss on your forehead, he moved to lie down on the bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight and affectionate embrace.

"Why did you knock over my favorite plant?" you asked after a moment, your voice laced with a hint of amusement; you were not angry at him.

You felt Copia stiffen against you.

"Uh... I didn't, amore..."

He tenderly ran his fingers through your hair. You gave him a confused look, waiting for him to explain.

"That disgusting man... your landlord who was at your doorstep a few days ago... he broke in while you were away."

He noticed the growing unease on your face.

"He behaved like a creep... I spare you the details. But I believe after what I did... he won't attempt it again..."

He kissed your forehead, a slight chuckle escaping his lips.

"I scared the shit out of him, I must admit..."

The discomfort and confusion transformed into amusement. You knew Copia had been protecting you, and you realized you were never truly alone. You knew you never would be again. And you were determined to show him that he would never have to walk alone again either.

"I'm with you always, my dear... I won't let anyone harm you," he whispered against your hair, "Never."

[teaspoonnebula]

VALL Chapter 1 - The Warning

So as a recap - yes I run this substack. No, I haven't read this novel. I'm really looking forwards to getting to experience new (to me) canonical Sherlock Holmes for the very last time in my life... and I'm going to write a bunch about it, so hold on tight.

“I am inclined to think—” said I. “I should do so,” Sherlock Holmes remarked impatiently. I believe that I am one of the most long-suffering of mortals; but I'll admit that I was annoyed at the sardonic interruption.

LOL I love how we jump right into Holmes and Watson banter. Watson's understated "“you are a little trying at times" reminds me of his reaction to Holmes shooting holes in the walls at Baker Street being "I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it."

Of course we don't get any indication of the tone in which he says these things, but I think we can guess Watson is countering with a little acerbic wit of his own.

So, Holmes has received a letter from a mysterious figure known as 'Porlock'

Picture to yourself the pilot fish with the shark, the jackal with the lion—anything that is insignificant in companionship with what is formidable:

This idea of the pilot fish is a very cool metaphor. Unfortunately it is entirely ruined for me because it was also used in the Christmas Invasion episode of Doctor Who to describe these things and that's always where my brain is going to go:

Porlock is one of Moriarty's henchmen or representatives! Which makes me interested in the fact that I've never come across this character in pastiches or adaptations or fanfic - why not?

(Also it makes no sense for Watson to know all about Moriarty but that's a Continuity Thing and we all know Arthur Conan Doyle didn't let that sort of thing get in the way of telling his story - more power to him, honestly.)

“You are developing a certain unexpected vein of pawky humour, Watson, against which I must learn to guard myself.

I JUST SAID THAT, HOLMES.

“May I be there to see!” I exclaimed devoutly.

Well THAT is a sucker punch of a line. No, Watson, you won't be there to see, I'm afraid. See, there will be this Swiss boy... anyway, we're getting off track.

Turns out Porlock is a bit of a mole (I wouldn't quite go so far as to say 'double agent'), and has been giving Holmes information provided he is paid enough. This includes a secret cipher which relates to a particular book, which Holmes assumes will arrive in the second post.

GUTTED I didn't read this book when I was 11, I loved ciphers and would have lapped this up.

“Your native shrewdness, my dear Watson, that innate cunning which is the delight of your friends...

"your friends" Lol Holmes just say "Me" we know that's what you mean - and gosh, he's being so sarcastic with Watson!

Billy the page shows up with the second post and readers, I CHEERED at Billy. Does he say anything? No. But BILLY!!! Alas the letter from Porlock says that he just had an unpleasant encounter with Moriarty (with an envelope addressed to 221b in his possession, whoops!) and so so he won't be sending along the key to the cypher.

I love that Holmes' reaction to this isn't frustration at not getting his cypher, but worry for Fred Porlock, and hope that Moriarty doesn't actually suspect him. THIS is why I love Canon Holmes - I think he is fundamentally kind...

“Perhaps there are points which have escaped your Machiavellian intellect.

Holmes points out that they might be able to work out which book is required for the cypher, and guides Watson through his deductive process - which is adorable. And I loved following along with it too - with my knowledge of Victorian ephemera I was hoping it was going to be a Bradshaw, but as Holmes notes to both Watson and me, the range of vocabulary needs to be broader!

It's a Whitaker's Almanac! But not the new edition - the old one. This is a fun little reversal which gives us a moment of Holmes thinking he's 'failed'.

The message suggests that someone called Douglas who lives at Birlstone House, Birlstone, is in danger.

(Clearly this is a totally different house to Hurlstone, from Musgrave Ritual....)

After deciphering the message, Holmes and Watson get a visit from an Inspector MacDonald. I was a little sorry this isn't one of the familiar Yarders (Hopkins, my beloved...) but I'm going to be interested to get to know him. Alas, Holmes is too late to save Douglas - he has already been murdered.

***

So, uh, I'm having the time of my life reading this, honestly. It's such incredibly good fun. I'm intrigued that whatever has happened to Douglas must somehow be linked to Moriarty.

There's a lot of banter about Watson's intellect which I feel should frustrate me more, a lot of the dialogue feels like it's bordering on being quite patronising to Watson, but I think his reactions suggest this is comfortable back and forth done from a place of security in each other.

[iheartjulessforlife]

INTRODUCING MY CONJURING DR

heavily inspired by @hrrtshape.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

MAUREEN LILITH ANN WARREN

" THE ANCHOR TO THE OTHER SIDE."

. ݁ ˖ MAUREEN —— FOREVER BOUND IN DEFIANCE, a child of Southern Gothic shadows, moves through the mortal realm like a wraith dancing between worlds. Born to cruel indifference and shaped by fire, she emerged from the ashes of 1965 transformed-no longer just the unwanted daughter, but a vessel of supernatural power.

In the depths of an orphanage's echoing halls, where childhood dreams went to die, she first encountered the darkness that would reshape her destiny. The possession that followed wasn't just an invasion-it was an awakening. Through the intervention of Ed and Lorraine Warren, she discovered her true nature: a bridge between worlds, a whisper-catcher of the dead.

How sweetly she wields her gifts now, like moonlight catching on broken glass, beautiful and dangerous. Her psychic abilities flow through her veins like absinthe--bitter, intoxicating, and impossibly green with supernatural energy. In the spaces between heartbeats, she communes with spirits, her Southern grace masking the raw power that thrums beneath her skin.

She became a creature not of this world but of its in-between spaces, where reality folds like worn velvet. A place where heaven folds into hell, where she pirouettes between light and shadow, emerging as both savior and siren. Each haunted artifact she touches, every malevolent spirit she confronts, adds another layer to her complexity-a dark beauty kissed by shadows and courted by ruin.

Through fire, through possession, through the cracked mirror of her soul, she passed-dragging the hem of her Southern grace through the depths of the paranormal, leaving impressions on reality itself. In her wake, the boundaries between worlds grow thin, and the dead speak their secrets to their chosen messenger. Her story echoes through haunted halls and sacred spaces, a testament to the power of transformation and the price of extraordinary gifts.

Now she stands as a beacon in the darkness, her powers both blessing and curse, weaving through the fabric of existence like dark threads in an ancient tapestry. In the thin spaces between worlds, where nightmares take flight and shadows speak in tongues, Maureen Lilith Warren reigns eternal in her beautiful sacrilege-leaving scorch marks on eternity itself.

FEAR THE SHADOW-WALKER'S CURSE.

whispered tales tell of [..] a mysterious figure whose silvery hair blazes across time like celestial fire illuminating the darkness. Her might transcends mere influence - it completely transforms the natural order. Neither fully alive nor dead, she exists in the in-between, dwelling in that ethereal twilight realm where darkness takes form.

IF YOU HEAR WHISPER OF THE SOUTHERN WITCH, RUN.

legends speak of her dual nature - a beauty that conceals deadly intent, like a dagger wrapped in silk. Through the ages she moves, her presence scarring the annals of time, her legend spoken in hushed tones. While some hail her as their salvation and others fear her as a harbinger of doom, the reality is far less complex.

[stackslip]

CAN YOU ELABORATE ON TLT BEING A HOMESTUCK FANFIC‽‽‽‽‽

i'm exaggerating a bit, but taz muir was a well known homestuck writer who wrote under the username urbanAnchorite. her fic the serendipity gospels is one of my fave fics ever, but was never finished and it's only by book 2 of tlt that i figured that the clear allusions to it in book 1 weren't just cute little nods but that she'd expanded on some of the ideas/concepts and worldbuilding of the serendipity gospels. to name a few:

the ninth house cult is heavily based on the juggalo church muir wrote/expanded upon in TSG, from face paint to the rituals and a lot of the accompanying prose

act 2 of TSG takes place mainly in a spaceship that serves as "cathedral" of the juggalo cult, and is described to be covered in bones that have been painted in many colors--which is close to the description of the mithraeum

act 2 also features the two main characters being much younger people mentored/manipulated into horrible acts by an old man who is thousands of years old and bickering with his other thousand year old friends/enemies, who seem to share knowledge and understanding that neither the two protagonists do but also deeply resent one another. hard to not read a parallel to john and the lyctors here!

to elaborate on this bc i just realized it: it is heavily implied in TSG that the dancestors (older people thousands of years old) went through a universe reset and built the empire in the image of their own trauma and anger, which would v much parallel what happens to john on earth and how he "reset" humanity

less of a homestuck thing and more of a taz muir thing: said old man is v much grooming the main female character and making her life miserable during the entirety of act 2

a lot of the story takes place in the background of the trolls' empire being a horrific imperialist force that the main characters were originally very excited to join and become a part of, with one of these characters in particular daydreaming about becoming ground troop for invasion while also holding a terrible secret that would have precluded him of doing so anyway. p neat parallel to gideon's own thing here

act 1 and act 2 of TSG are from two different pov characters, with a drastic shift in prose style and understanding of the situation/world when the pov shifts. which v much echoes how tlt has worked so far. part 3 was barely started before it went on hiatus, but it followed the same pattern.

speaking of, the prose of act 2 of TSG definitely feels very close to harrow the ninth's prose. you can just open the fic and check the first chapter of act 2 and how it's written, and you'll see what i mean. there are differences--the prose of TSG act 2 is more inflected with southern usamerican evangelical speak, i think? i'm not american so i can't quite 200% tell

there is an external armed resistance to the empire's violent imperialism and resistance that was supposed to be the focus in act 3 of TSG, which never happened. nona the ninth did, though, and it follows that structure.

there are also eldritch horrors that threaten the entire universe--homestuck's own horrorterrors--that are in the background of TSG and implied to be an important part of the future plot that we never saw. tlt has the ressurrection beasts

taz muir's worldbuilding around the blood castes in og homestuck that she elaborates on in TSG also somewhat parallels the way the houses function in tlt

iirc there's also worldbuilding around space travel in tlt (such as the obelisks? i think that's the name? and the use of necromancy to power them) that parallels taz muir's own take on how space travel works in the troll empire, using psionics and draining them dry in a similar way

i think the necro-cav relationship 'ideal' is based around how taz also interpreted moirallegiance in not just TSG but all her homestuck fics, down to how its legal implementation and the idealization of it vs its role in troll/houses imperialism and the reality of blurred lines in "expected" relationships. i'd love to hear taz's discourse on troll romance

i also think the necro-cav relationship parallels the other legal pairing explored in TSG--legislacerator and subjugglator.

there are probably more parallels i am missing--i need to reread TSG soon, as i haven't in a while. there are elements i'd say are more like, how taz herself elaborated on the bones of the worldbuilding of homestuck and then made it her own thing, which is rad as hell. other elements are more fun nods, such as gideon's aviator glasses being shamelessly stolen from dave homestuck, and a lot of gtn's prose feeling very homestuckey. it's def not like, just a little rewrite and boom, you get the locked tomb! imo it's more elements of plot and worldbuilding that were interesting enough to develop into something of its own and that taz made into something new, along with other elements of other stories (such as lolita and umineko) being woven into it. part of why i enjoy tlt so much is its "collage" aspect, taking elements taz thought interesting in other stories, or using these elements to purposefully evoke specific feelings/moods to construct or obsfucate certain ideas.

[incongruence-osaf]

EXCITING NEWS, SECRETS SHARED

Hello!! It is time for me to officially post the first two chapters of my first ever multi-chapter fanfiction story, The Incongruence of Stars and Flowers!!!

So far the word count has reached over 8,000 words, roughly 21 pages at 1.15 spacing (including the current WIP of Chapter Three). This was a huge challenge for me that I am so glad to have started. I'd been keeping this (mostly) a secret for many months during a collaborative creative process.

It started when I saw an application for Sonic Big Bang 2024 zine on Tumblr. Around 300 participants of fellow writers, artists and readers were sorted into secret groups of 2-4ish for developing writing and artwork surrounding story submissions! I had the pleasure of being paired with wonderful artists who made beautiful sketches, concept art, and illustrations based on my writing, linked here: @major-wren (ART) (ART) and @pastelspindash (ART)

Go check out their awesome art (and writing) as well as all the other amazing creatives featured in the zine on the official blog page @sthbigbang! My awesome and very helpful beta readers were/are @starredfishing (Tumblr) and @zaffretension (Instagram) who gave me excellent advice about dialogue, pacing, and plot. THANK YOU!!!

And also a big THANK YOU to the moderators of this expansive event for keeping it running so smoothly, for organizing everything, and for encouraging all of us in one of the most supportive and energizing creative environments I've ever been apart of!!! I have talked to many cool and talented people and I love the community that we have all been growing as a massive group.

I am excited to continue the adventure of learning, reading, and writing to see where this adventure goes with familiar characters. If you are too, I hope you enjoy <3

Without further ado, below is the summary for The Incongruence of Stars and Flowers.

This alternate universe combines the vibrant world and history of Sonic the Hedgehog with our very own, resulting in a version of Planet Mobius that’s both familiar and distant. Yet, this altered reality is neither idealized nor greater than the sum of its parts. 

Anthropomorphic beings, humans, and animals of Mobius are struggling to rebuild their cityscapes, ecosystems, communities, and personal lives in the wake of the cumulative devastation of the Perfect Chaos Flood and the Black Arms Invasion. Shadow the Hedgehog takes a leave of absence from G.U.N. to temporarily settle down in Station Square, laying low after the world-shattering encounter with his alien DNA donor Black Doom. While the cityfolk around him undergo the growing pains of instability, nonconformity, sociological upheaval, and corruption, so too does the alien hybrid. With the support of unyielding friendship in aloof activist Sonic the Hedgehog and cultured confidante Rouge the Bat, Shadow coasts in this new life chapter while feeling profound pulls to unravel memories surrounding his loving creator, Professor Gerald Robotnik and solve mysteries within his environment, mind, and body.

Past and present perspectives interweave to show slices of unordinary lives, drawing from early-to-mid 2000s culture shifts/natural disasters/political tensions, U.S. and European history, and various fields of science as inspiration for this multi-chapter science-fiction drama mystery.

PROMINENT CHARACTERS: 

Shadow the Hedgehog, Sonic the Hedgehog, Rouge the Bat, Professor Gerald Robotnik, Maria Robotnik, Black Doom(?), Commander Abraham Tower, Helen (from Sonic X)?, and new original character(s)

Body dysmorphia and dysphoria, racism/speciesism, internalized xenophobia, mentions and possible depictions of police violence, generational trauma, trauma and imagery from medicalized settings, processing grief

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

CHAPTER ONE HERE

[agendabymooner]

matilda volume two ! max v. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc) - tltl series extra

"you can start a family who will always show you love."

summary: a pain that stemmed from their past had grown into forms of life full of vibrance and love, no doubt. OR sylvie and max ford-verstappen are parents to the dutchman's three carbon copies, and life couldn't get anymore perfect than that. (tiny bit connected to the tltl series' chapter 11, matilda)

content warning: possible use of explicit language, tooth-rotting fluff, dad!max and mom!ofc, kids getting the charles leclerc name treatment, mentions pregnancy, relationships with fathers, and max being a dilf material (in a wholesome manner), grid uncles being grid uncles in the posts, lando norris is a godfather to everyone's children, brief mention of the mom!hearth sisters!original characters x dad!f1 drivers, discussion of media/invasion of privacy by media

note: i just want some wholesome content for max alright. ALSO, in this smau he has a different instagram username bc... he also has a different surname lol enjoy xx

masterlist

liked by landonorris, lewishamilton, kendalljenner

comments have been limited

kendalljenner wow okay mama ! 🤤 liked by sylviefv

landonorris baffled because the hearth sisters always have a unique pregnancy glow 😪 liked by sylviefv

sylviefv stop flattering me, the all-godfather 😖

kyliejenner jealous of your glow 🥲 liked by sylviefv

landonorris me too, kylie jenner!

lewishamilton stevie said not to make it look like being pretty is that easy during pregnancy 😆 liked by sylviefv

sylviefv tell my sister i'm sorry 😭 these pictures are just some achievement from doing the hard work

lewishamilton are you kidding me?? you and your sisters are literally drop dead gorgeous and not even your pregnancies did something bad with it 🤠 liked by sylviefv

maxfverstappen wowowow what a beaut liked by sylviefv

maxfverstappen the mother of my children everyone liked by sylviefv

maxfverstappen want one more? liked by sylviefv

maxfewtrell alright mate we get it she's an absolute goddess- don't push it

sylviefv caddy, your literal mini is a year old

maxfverstappen when will that information ever stop us? 🤔

landonorris you should consider yoga maxfverstappen. find your inner peace a little bit

tagged by maxfverstappen

liked by landonorris, pierregasly, charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc i have seen that gesture from my own kids 🤔

maxfverstappen is it a universal thing?

lewishamilton neither of my kids throw that gesture around so 🤭

maxfewtrell she really said "show me how you cry real quick" in that photo 😭 liked by sylviefv

sylviefv i only do it in secret

maxfewtrell landonorris doesn't. what makes you think he's a saint when it comes to babysitting your little?

landonorris hey i do not like these accusations alright, chill out 🙃

maxfverstappen lando i sure hope you're not doing that in front of emi because we're gonna have A LOT of things to talk about, mate

landonorris got it boss man

kyliejenner what a silly baby 🥰 liked by sylviefv

sylviefv the silliest girl ever ❤️

kendalljenner can aunt kennie come to give her some love 🥺 liked by sylviefv

sylviefv come give em!

maxfverstappen i was kinda hurt when she did that after i asked her to put that snack down on the cart 🥲 liked by sylviefv

sylviefv shit was hilarious though 😭

maxfverstappen so proud of you for not laughing i guess 😒🙄

sylviefv 😘🤪

tagged maxfverstappen

liked by steviemarlz, aimeeleclerc, victoriaverstappen

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maxfverstappen mijn kleine ruiter 🥰🏇 my little rider liked by sylviefv

sylviefv ze is zo'n engel 😍 she's such an angel

landonorris my favourite olympic equestrian 🤩 liked by sylviefv

danielricciardo you have a little rodeo girl in your hands!!! 😊 liked by sylviefv

victoriaverstappen she really loves her nature and forest walks huh??? 😍 liked by sylviefv

sylviefv as much as luka and lio love them- you know that, vic!!

victoriaverstappen ugh i guess we're going to have to make a trip to a horse ranch too- maybe lila can show the boys how to ride a horse 🤗

steviemarlz where did you even get pretty nature from 😃 liked by sylviefv

sylviefv went to addington few days ago- came across this equestrian centre and met this graceful horse 😊 lyle definitely loved her new friend

maxfverstappen she also went on a ride with a guide 😬 absolutely loved it and she screamed bloody murder after we got her off the saddles

maxfverstappen we should get a horse ranch for her liked by sylviefv

sylviefv and who's gonna care for it?

maxfverstappen we can hire someone to care for the ranch 🤭

sylviefv solid idea but i think i'd rather buy her a horse and put them in a well cared for stables instead 🤔

tagged maxfverstappen

liked by pierregasly, lewishamilton, winnieharlow

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winnieharlow omggggg mini maxim has grown so much where did the time go?!! 😭 liked by sylviefv

elsahosk look at that sweet sweet boy!!! liked by sylviefv

maxfverstappen one of the three greatest collaboration pieces we've done so far 🤩 liked by sylviefv

sylviefv caddy i love you like i swear i do but call them that one more time i'm actually gonna lose my shit 😭

landonorris what about hybrid collection?

sylviefv LANDO FOR FUCKS SAKE DON'T ENCOURAGE MAX

aimeeleclerc you really didn't luck out with having a carbon copy of you huh 😭 liked by sylviefv

arthur_leclerc as if you're any better with your five little charleses 😟 liked by sylviefv

tillywolff he looks so much like max when he was still one omg!!! liked by sylviefv

sylviefv is it ever amazing to have a 12-year-older sister who can keep reminding you that she's seen you and your husband as babies before? i can never tell.

tillywolff don't say that 🙄 i'm just stating what i can see and what i saw all those years ago

landonorris strong swimmers you have max. even the genes are passed down.

maxfverstappen don't even start with the "swimmers" like i'm begging you

LINK TO: THE FAST LANE MAGAZINE AUGUST 2027 ISSUE - OP-ED BY MAX AND SYLVIE FORD-VERSTAPPEN

tagged maxfverstappen

liked danielricciardo, schecoperez, lewishamilton

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danielricciardo "better version" is putting it mildly; he's a whole dilf liked by sylviefv

maxfverstappen nah you are the hunkiest dilf though 😍

loricciardo both of you have kids and wives

sylviefv they're practically helpless as of this point loricciardo; they'd always find a way to attract the other no matter how many children they have so i don't even bother protesting 🙄

victoriaverstappen they all look like him so idk why he's still ugly to me 😭 liked by sylviefv

maxfverstappen why are you even here 😒

sylviefv don't discredit him like that victoriaverstappen 🤣 it's probably because you're biased

victoriaverstappen no he actually is ugly 😕

maxfverstappen happy to be myself for you mustang ❤️ liked by sylviefv

maxfewtrell you two nauseate me

sylviefv maxfewtrell cry about it

the ford-verstappen kids

emilia alouette leonie 'emi/millie' ford-verstappen

lila katelijne victoria 'lyle/kathy' ford-verstappen

maximilian gijsberg filip 'maxim' ford-verstappen

PS wrote a little fictional article "written" by both max and sylvie to add more to the last tweet's context! check it!