#web research for your company

[aronaut]

Warmth

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x gn!reader Summary: You're a former researcher that was working before the blacksite lockdown. Forgotten and abandoned, you have no other choice but to work with a certain shopkeeper. Needless to say, you have your differences. Warnings: Explicit mentions of blo/od and inj/ury in the beginning. Not beta read Word count: 4,191 (This is a drabble I plan to include in a long list of loosely connected ideas. Consider it the middle of an enemies to qp partners plot :] )

...The low, ominous groan and creak of metal is enough to put anyone on edge, you think, as you traverse the seemingly endless halls.

Rifling through the cabinets and drawers, scrounging up scraps left behind by hasty thieves, the unsettling ocean ambience is all you have for company. You wonder, just when did your life derail so horrifically, when the sight of a crumpled body on the ground fills you with elation. The heavy, steel doors slide open with little fanfare. Beyond the mangled corpse, your eyes immediately set on a black light laying just a few feet away. Stepping over the expendable, you collect the item. There is little battery left in the light you note, before stashing it in the worn messenger bag slung over your shoulder.

With a heavy sigh, you eyes scan below. Scarlet scatters across the floor in a chaotic spray, drawing your eyes towards the deep crimson pool steadily crawling towards the toe of your shoe. In the center of it all, lays the head of a late expendable, expression locked in a display of permanent shock. From below their eye, a coat of flaky, dry red webs down from their chin to all the way down their shoulder.

The collar of the expendable’s wet suit is torn completely; black shreds of neoprene fray out from below the sternum. It's hard to tell the rubber from the darkened crimson spilling out from the brutal tear in the prisoners neck.

Z-90– the Wall Dweller, you determine. Recent too, if the wet shine on expendable's neck is anything to go off of. The considerably uneaten state of the body leads you to believe it might still be in the area, biding it's time until it can claim the expendable's companions as well.

Or, well, possibly even you…

With that thought in your mind, you crouch down, your hands roaming over surface of the expendable’s clothes for any other possible hidden goods. Sparing glances every so often behind you, straining your ears all the while, you’re cautious during your search.

Any research the expendable might have had is completely useless now, waterlogged with sticky blood and pasted to the body. Attempting to reach into the pockets only rewards you with a sharp jab in your palm, the tips of your fingers cold and wet with spilled vial fluids.

Withdrawing from the body, you finally stand back up to full height. The sudden rush to your head is enough to make you sway, your stomach starting to pinch from the overwhelming, metallic stench permeating the room. With a shaky exhale, you urge yourself forward.

The persistent stinging in your eyes doesn’t do any favors for you as you try and navigate the dimly lit halls of the facility, an incredibly sore ache pulsating in your feet with every step. You are… so tired.

A distant roar of an entity sounds suddenly, reverberating across multiple rooms and rocking the facility. The floor rumbles faintly below your feet, and you can almost barely make out the disorderly sound of blinking lights. Bracing yourself against a wall, you wait out the tremors.

Though exhaustion tugs at you, you acknowledge that you cannot rest here. The dark corners of the room whisper dangerous promises, and as you traverse the rooms you can’t shake off the ever persistent feeling of being watched.

Any human in this place is simply prey, and as you tuck your hands into the pockets of your tattered, beaten white coat, your mind rings out with a grim thought; if every human here is prey, you are high game.

Approaching the next door, the screen doesn’t label it with a number but instead a red line. Taking the keycard from your lanyard, you unlock the door, and step inside. Instead of being met with lockers and scattered drawers, you find yourself in a familiar office. The small room is crowded with desks, computers that have long since powered off, and fake potted plants that fill you with a bittersweet sense of longing. Tucked under the desks, the rusted office chair beckon you to rest, but you push the thought out.

There is no doubt in your mind that he is getting aggravated over the fact that you’ve taken this long already.

Behind the desks there is another door, bracketed by two item lockers long since rummaged through. It’s marked by another red line, but you already know where it leads.

The door opens with an exhale, the frigid air greeting you as you walk on through. Unlike the rooms before, this room is brightly lit, the florescent lights buzzing loudly. Your eyes burn momentarily from the sudden change, taking a moment to adjust. The hall is short this time, and in your view you see another door marked ‘50.’

Your bag is disappointingly light on your shoulders, only holding a gummy flashlight, a few batteries, and the black light you just found. You’re not looking forward to the condescending comments that awaits you behind that door.

Resigning to your fate with a heavy sigh, you begin to trudge forward, but stop short suddenly when you hear what sounds like a loud flash, followed by a furious shout and the rush of footsteps. You only have a split second to react, hastily throwing yourself into a locker, the clang of the metal door muted by the hissing of an opening door.

Laughter rings out in the room, accompanied by a multitude of heavy footfalls. The light peaking through the vent of the locker momentarily obscures as you count three expendables pass by, completely unaware of your presence. They are loud and boisterous, a harsh rhythmic squeak of their boots resounding as they run through the hall, the dull thuds of drawers being pulled out to their full extent in a fruitless endeavor to find more loot. They don’t stay long, and soon enough you hear the hydraulics of the door once more and the footsteps dissipate.

You wait a minute before exiting the locker, hurriedly making your way to the fiftieth door. There is a low, agitated hiss drawing out low from the ground, echoing through the tunnel next to your calf. Crouching down, you crawl on into the vent, your elbows clanging against the thin metal.

Emerging on the other side, you find yourself once more in the confinement of Sebastian’s shop. It’s possibly the smallest room in the facility, the walls looming over you in a claustrophobic fashion. Or, perhaps, it’s just overcrowded with stacked crates strewn about, the floor littered with various gadgets inoperable by you, and piles of paper files scattered across the floor. Your eyesight leads to probably the most useless thing in the room, roaming over the giant tail fin flicking against the wall and up the elongated tail it was attached to.

Sebastian is rubbing furiously at his eyes, lure blinking not dissimilarly to the way the room lights do when in the presence of Z-283. He’s grumbling low beneath his breath, mumbling incoherently between rushed clicks and growls.

When he’s done, he acknowledges your entrance with very little care,

“About time. Stock’s so low, I’ve had to sell half-charged flashlights to the last gaggle of idiots,” his arms drop, and he glares to you. “What the hell took you so long?”

The messenger bag drops from your shoulder with little care, the metal of the flashlights clinging with the floor through the thin material. You fix him with a similar expression to his, squinting up at him.

“Trying not to get caught, asshole. If you want shit sooner get it yourself next time.”

He chuckles sardonically at you.

“Please, I’ve got better things to do,” he responds. “You keep up your half of the deal, and I keep up mine.”

You roll your eyes pointedly, breaking away from the staring match when the brightness of his lure starts to cause dark spots to swim in your vision. Crouching down, you begin to rifle through the bag. He looks unimpressed at the pitiful amount of batteries you set beside yourself, but you do notice the room getting ever so slightly brighter when you pull out the black light.

“Just keep being a good little errand boy, and your efforts won’t go unpunished,” he purrs. You clench your teeth, face warming in anger.

“Oh yes, your part. Totally. I go out, digging around for junk, risking my neck to monsters and delinquent prisoners, while you get to sit in here and play retail worker,” you ramble, frustrated, rolling the gummy flashlight over to his general direction with a not too gentle shove. “Fairest trade in the world.”

Your heartbeat picks up ever so slightly as you feel a shadow cast over you, the bulb of Sebastian’s lure hanging overhead as he leans down towards you, slow. You urge yourself to keep his gaze and stay there as his smile stretches into a sharp grin, light glinting off the razor sharp fangs. His hand stretches towards you, and your shoulders jolt in a half-flinch as they reach towards your neck. You don’t look down from his eyes as his claws pull at your lanyard, the thin fabric brushing against the nape of your neck. Your eyebrows furrow as he pinches the card between his thumb and index, his claw sweeping over it’s laminated surface.

“Would you like to switch roles, ‘doctor?’”

You reach up, and promptly slap his hand away.

Instead of retaliating, Sebastian merely laughs at you.

“I didn’t think so,” he drawls, before slowly ascending back to full height, away from you.

The bag, now empty, sits lightly on your shoulder as you pull it over your head. It’s weight is nearly nonexistent. You approach one of the stacked storage containers and with a tired groan plop down, leaning back and stretching your legs out in front of you.

It’s instantaneous relief, you note, your joints popping in rapid succession of one another as you stretch your arms up, crossed at the wrists. Your shoulders are practically buzzing, no doubt having been pinched at some point during your venture in the facility. Your knees creak and ache from crawling through vents and desks, your legs stiff and feet beyond sore. After your stretch, you slump down in your seat with a sigh. Finally, you get to relax.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Ugh.

“Resting, Sebastian.” You respond dryly. “I’m freaking tired, okay? Leave me be.”

Sebastian simply scoffs. You don’t acknowledge him as your eyes draw shut.

“Go somewhere else for that, I have a business to run.”

“And where do you suggest I go? Where is there that doesn’t have a wall dweller lurking or some other hellish atrocity waiting to get at me?” You argue, opening your eyes to challenge him with a glare.

“That isn’t my problem,” he leans down slightly, arms crossed and third arm tucked in awkwardly. “Leave before someone comes in.”

You mirror his pose, crossing your arms and tilting your chin up at him.

“Get out.”

You shuffle in place, legs crossing. Sebastian scowls, growling low in his throat. His arm shoots out, pointing to the vent and shouting.

“Get OUT!”

Your shoulders jump, but you’re stubborn. Drawing your arms around yourself tightly, you shout back.

“Screw you, man! There isn’t anyone coming!”

Sebastian hisses, the only warning you get before he darts down toward you, your arms pushed into your chest as he holds you in a tight grip, claws pinching your skin underneath the thin fabric of your coat.

He is directly in your face, eyes glowering at you as he spits,

“You absolute, goddamn MORON. If you do not LEAVE-”

He cuts himself off suddenly, and in your peripherals you catch the way the fins on the side of his head seem to twitch bizarrely. Soon you hear the pang of metal resounding off the walls of the vent and echoing into the room. With a quick, uttered curse, Sebastian quickly draws back, but he doesn’t let you go, instead pulling you up and with him.

Your arms sting in his hold, your face twisted in a grimace as suddenly your feet are no longer touching the ground. The weight of your body hangs as he effortlessly lifts you up.

“What the hell???” you wheeze. “Let me go!”

A cold hand slaps over your mouth harshly, clasping your face nearly entirely as Sebastian growls.

“Shut the hell Up!”

You get little warning as Sebastian all but stuffs you behind him, crowded by his tail. You try and leverage yourself with his tail, pushing up with your arms as your chest pressing uncomfortably against him. His tail coils and folds in response, pushing over your chest and weighing heavily till you fall back to the floor. The air punched out of your lungs, and you let out a strangled gasp. Panic seized you as you wriggled beneath him, writhing in place to try and breathe. Noticing your struggle, Sebastian lifts his tail ever so slightly, no longer crushing you. You jumped at the opportunity, attempting to sit up before Sebastian’s third arm came down, hand tangling into your hair and shoving you back down.

“Stay down,” he says, low, with a hint of a threat tracing the edges of his voice.

The weight of his hand on your head disappears, and you watch from behind him as his attitude immediately shifts from disgruntled to a calculated calm.

“Welcome, welcome!” he greets, near automatic and practically off a script. You cannot see who he is talking to from your position, but based off the sound of shuffling and whispers, you assume another group has just entered. “Don’t be afraid, I’m not gonna hurt you. Despite what you have seen, heard and/or been told, my name is Sebastian.”

He goes on with his typical spew, and you surrender to the solid weight laying over you. It’s a bit awkward for Sebastian, you realize, as he attempts to move along with his usual transactions now that the upper part of his tail is occupied keeping you hidden. You feel almost smug about it, counting it off as a win in the mentally constructed chart in your mind that keeps loose tabs on the constantly tipping scale between you and Sebastian. It’s not like you want to be seen by the expendables, as it risks the possibility of them reporting back to Urbanshade that one of their esteemed researchers were still alive down here and working against them with the active saboteur. Though, given how long you and Sebastian have spent down here, you highly doubt that is likely to happen anytime soon. The expendable project was a long going mission that has yet to bare any fruit.

As Sebastian drawls on, you can feel his voice reverberating through his tail. As much as you hate to admit it, the rumbling was soothing. The weight of him was less of a burden than it was before, instead it became rather pleasant in grounding you, not unlike a weighted blanket… and a cooled one, at that.

The transaction seemed to be dragging on longer than usual, or maybe that was just you. The events of the day quickly starting to catch up with you, slowing your perception of time as you stared up hazily at the ceiling, with Sebastian’s elbow and back occasionally coming into view. Pressing against the wall, you could feel the way the facility subtly rocked in the waters. Holding your ear to the ground, you could almost hear the ocean, the cold metal soothing against your flushed face.

You could barely make out the voices of the prisoners, and what you could you pieced together that they must be attempting to negotiate. Puffing under your breathe, you smiled, bidding them luck with that endeavor as your eyes drew shut.

When your eyes opened once more, the room was dark. You could no longer hear the prisoners, or even Sebastian for that matter. Lifting your head, you realized also that the weight over you seemed to have disappeared. Sebastian was no longer laying over you.

You couldn’t make out what was in front of you, but you still attempted to look around. Your thoughts were slow and disorientated, but slowly you discerned that you must have fallen asleep. How you managed in such an inconvenient expression, next to Sebastian of all things, you couldn’t fathom. You suppose you were more exhausted than you originally thought.

He must’ve moved you, you think. You could imagine the sneer he must’ve made at realizing you had fallen asleep. Where did he put you, exactly? You jostled awake fully at the thought that perhaps he threw you out in the cold, or simply dumped you in the nearest, darkest room to be preyed on by the experiments.

At this thought, you rushed to push yourself up with your hands, having awoken on your stomach. The floor was… odd in texture. It was rougher, not the smooth, biting cold metal that you were accustomed to. It was, also, ever so slightly warm. As you pushed against it, you noticed that while it was solid it also had a little give to it. Your mind reeled for answers, trying to piece together just exactly where or what you were laying on, when all of the sudden you realized you were moving. Or, more like, the ground was moving.

Your breath quickened as you slid ever so slightly down, and it registered finally that your legs weren’t supported by anything, instead hanging over an edge. Your thighs held together as your arms scrambled to hold on to whatever it was you were on, leaning forward with your face pressed up against something cool.

You could smell an an odd, distinct combination of what you could only describe as leather and fish. Cold air gently brushed down your forehead as you heard someone sigh.

Adjusting to the darkness, you could finally make out what was in front of you– or below you, rather.

Below you was a chest belonging only to Sebastian.

Clad in a white dress shirt and draped in a rough leather jacket, his chest rose steadily under you, raising you in tandem. Looking to his face, all three of his eyes were closed and you couldn’t make out his lure in the darkness. His expression was… peaceful. Relaxed. Despite this, you could see the dark crevices in his forehead and eyes, groves crafted and paved by long-term stress that he refused to let on existed. He was completely unguarded and vulnerable, and considering your position you concluded that he had willingly put himself there.

But why?

You couldn’t comprehend it. Maybe it was a mistake? You had never seen him asleep before… Given all of the traits he was spliced with, you wondered how long he could really go without sleep? Maybe he slept when you were gone? That wouldn’t make sense. He’s a research-fiend by nature, he’d never let a potential customer pass him by.

However, looking more closely, you took in his features. Unlike the rest of his body, his face was smoother; More akin to a human. Between his eyes and on the bridge of his nose, there was a very faint line– barely noticeable even in the light– a paler blue than the surrounding skin. A scar he had when he first came into the facility as a convict. As a human…

You doubt even Sebastian could reject the very notion of sleep. Beneath it all– the razor sharp teeth, the blue scales, and thin web veils on his ears and clawed fingers, you never stopped believing that he was human. You doubt he did, either.

It still didn’t make sense for you to be here, but that didn’t matter, because there was the definite possibility of him screaming at you when he woke up and saw you there in despite of his protests.

You gently tried to creep down, stretching your leg and trying to feel the ground with your toe. You stretched and stretched, flexing your foot before realizing that even at this angle you couldn’t feel the floor. You were up too damn high. Looking down, you could hardly make out the messy floor.

In the midst of your struggling, you felt a rumble pass through you from Sebastian’s chest. His hands, which you hadn’t at first noticed were resting on your hips, slowly caressed over your back before stopping at your shoulders. You laid there, frozen, peaking cautiously up at Sebastian to see he was, thankfully, still asleep.

Your situation got that much more difficult, you realized, as his arms laid heavy over your back and prevented you from moving any further without disturbing the serpent, likely into waking.

Huffing a sigh, you relented.

You still couldn’t see very well in the darkness, and you would no doubt sprain something trying to dismount Sebastian. He’s so cranky awake, you don’t want to imagine what he’d be like shorted a few hours of beauty sleep.

And as much as you loathed to admit it, the position wasn’t… uncomfortable. You felt warm, but not stuffy despite the room. Sebastian was like a pillow with two cold sides, and you discovered that as you sunk back down into him, that his skin seemed to absorb your heat.

You shut your eyes.

There was no point in struggling to leave, or worrying about Sebastian’s reaction right now. Bottom line is, you could go for a couple more minutes of rest. Chances are Sebastian would tell you to hop right back to work first opportunity he got, so you might as well take advantage of the situation.

Your breathing slowed, and as you relaxed you could just barely make out a very soft rumbling crackle coming from Sebastian’s chest, reminiscent of a cat’s purr. His fingers absently curled over your shoulders, the weight of them strong and comforting. You could get used to this, you thought, and didn’t bother to fight against the absurd belief as your thoughts slowed down, sleep creeping in.

A shrill scream roars outside, and the body beneath you jolts violently, jostling you in the process. You hear lights flicker discordantly, before hushing entirely.

You don’t dare to open your eyes as you feel Sebastian move under you, hearing him exhale loudly. From behind the lids of your eyes, you notice the room get slightly brighter. Sebastian is awake.

You brace yourself to be grabbed, or even thrown, as his claws curl that much tighter over your shoulders. But that doesn’t happen.

His hands go lax, and you feel him sink back down, his third arm coming to rest over your lower back. The upper arms gently soothe down your back before brushing back up. Your brows furrow in confusion when a hand rests on your head, combing through your hair.

Warm breath ghosts over you as he leans down with a sigh, arms pulling you further up his body as his chin sets down over your head.

You dare to peek your eyes open, met with the light blue hue of Sebastian’s neck, gaze tracing over the smooth transition between human skin and scales. You feel Sebastian’s clawed hand leave your scalp, once more joining it’s counterpart in soothing up and down your back, the third hand picking at the frayed edges of your shirt.

You can see the bob of Sebastian’s throat as he swallows, coughing lightly in an attempt to clear his throat. His nose presses ever so slightly further into your hair, and you have to suppress the sudden need to jump when the third hand traces up your back, under your shirt.

Your hands brace against him, ready to launch yourself upward and ask just what the hell he is doing, before acknowledging that his hand doesn’t go any further than that. You decide to wait it out, see what he does. Maybe you can catch him doing something embarrassing, and use it as leverage in your next argument. Another point to your metaphorical score.

The other arms continue to stroke over your back, albeit more slowly, as his third hand continues to trail up your spine, leaving a path of goose bumps. The hair of your back raises at the temperature change. His hand is freaking cold. Colder than the rest of his body. Why is that?

As this continues, you feel him slump ever so slightly, all three of his hands slowing to a stop. His chest evens out once more, and you realize, he is asleep.

The hand under your shirt has become significantly warmer, and that is when you realize; Sebastian is cold blooded.

Well, you didn’t just realize, you knew this from the start. It explained his bizarre actions though, and as you took in your position you pieced together you were no different than a weighted blanket you accused his tail of being not long ago. A heated rock for his comfort. Like a snake or lizard basking in a lamplight, you were his source of heat.

Your mouth twitched into a smile. You were totally going to hold this over his head.

[lyvhie]

oh, you're learning, father | lmk

priest!mark x fem!reader (18+ mdni)

summary: mark is determined to make you feel as good as you always made him feel.

cw: this is a continuation of 'forgive me, father' but can be read separately, oral (f), fingering, it has fewer religious themes than the previous one, pet names.

a/n: your wish is my command, here it is part 2 for you babies 😚

since the day you had first lured him into your seductive web, mark and you had been engaged in a secret, sinful affair. rather than feeling remorse, he reveled in the forbidden pleasure of your company.

he maintained his role as a priest, as he held a deep affinity for his position. he had devoted his existence to it, so it was not unexpected that he chose to preserve his work. but in the depths of his consciousness, he acknowledged that he was transgressing against his faith.

but he couldn't help it, not even if he tried he could get away from you, at least not now. it was so good to spend the night by your side, he always found himself leaving relaxed both physically and emotionally after a meet with you, each encounter a new, thrilling experience.

still, there was something that started to bother him; you were the one who always took the lead and made him dizzy with pleasure, truly faithful to your promise to make him cum in every way possible. don't get him wrong, he doesn't hate it, quite the opposite, it's always a delightful experience. however, he wanted to do more for you, he needed you to enjoy the moment as much as he did. your enjoyment was very important to him.

mark sat in the adjoining room, waiting patiently for you to finish your shower, his mind filled with determination and anticipation. for days, he had immersed himself in research, exploring different possibilities and methods to bring you to the pinnacle of pleasure.

armed with the knowledge he had gathered from articles, forums, and various resources, mark was determined to make this encounter exceptional in every way. he vowed to himself that he would leave no stone unturned.

he was deeply engrossed in his reading material, intently concentrating on the article titled "three ways to make your partner cum." he was so absorbed in his research that he didn't register the sound of the shower coming to a halt or the bathroom door opening.

“what are you doing?” mark, taken by surprise, flinched at the sudden sound of your voice, his phone slipping out of his grip and onto the bed. his eyes darted up, finding you standing at the edge of the bed. he quickly tried to cover his nervousness with a casual smile.

"oh, nothing much," he said, his voice just a touch hurried, making you raise your eyebrows.

"did you know you are like, the worst person ever at telling a lie, mark?" you teased, an amused smile gracing your features as you crawled up the bed towards him. his arms instinctively opened, welcoming you into his embrace.

“well," he chuckled sheepishly, his hands gently wrapping around your waist. “i guess that's what happens when you spend most of your life preaching honesty and confessional secrets.”

you laughed at his words, leaning to capture his lips into a gentle kiss, his arms wrapping around you in a tender embrace. he was keenly aware that he didn't need to resort to falsehoods when it came to his lack of experience in the bedroom, as he knew you were understanding and patient with him.

he had noticed your careful and caring demeanor towards him, despite the wild tendencies you displayed in the heat of passion. it was precisely these qualities of yours that made him feel at ease in your presence.

he hummed against your lips as he felt your hand slide under his shirt and caress his bare skin, his body responding with a small shiver when your nails grazed his abdomen. it was crazy how he could never grow weary of your touch.

as the kiss became more heated, he felt his own body getting hot, a soft gasp escaping his lips when your hand found his bulge over his pants. for a moment, he was tempted to surrender to your dominance, relishing the familiar sensation of being at your mercy. however, this time, he halted your movement by gently clutching your hand and breaking the kiss.

“what, baby?” a confused look on your face as your hand reached to caress his cheek. he melted into your touch, his heart skipping a beat as you called him that pet name. he couldn't help but admire how a simple word could make him feel so content. “are you not in the mood? we can't stop here.”

he shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "no, it’s not that," he reassured you. "i'm definitely in the mood. i just... have something i want to try with you.”

the curiosity in your eyes sparkled as your hear his word. with a small tilt of your head, you responded, "oh, really?" your brows raising slightly. "and what do you want to try?"

mark hesitated for a moment, biting his lower lip before continuing to speak. "can i... can i eat you out, please?"

“oh.”

each night of sex with mark was a fun experience, you really enjoyed fucking him. you usually always focused on his pleasure, he was so responsive, so easy to please. a simple hickey on his neck was enough to make him melt for you, and you never got tired of those reactions from him.

but a change of pace was always welcome, and you couldn't, and in no way did you want to, deny such a cute request.

“of course, mark!” you laughed at how nervous he seemed to be asking that, but your answer made his face lighten up and relax. “do you know how to do it?”

"i-i’ve been... researching.”

"like... watching porn or something?"

“no…” he looked away from you, his face getting red.

“oh god… you tried it on someone else?”

“what?! no!” he replied quickly, shaking his head urgently. “no, i would never—” he stopped mid-sentence when he heard you laughing, soon realizing that you were just teasing him.

“you're so cute,” you chuckled, squishing his cheeks together and earning a roll of his eyes in response.

he let out a sigh, still feeling the need to explain himself even though he knew you were just teasing him before. "i did watch a few videos," he admitted, his tone slightly sheepish. "but it was mostly reading….”

you hummed in understanding, a small smirk playing on your lips. "alright, i’m curious to see what this dedicated student has learned," you teased.

mark swallowed a lump in his throat, taking a deep breath. “okay,” it was finally time to put his theoretical knowledge into practice.

mark shifted his position, maneuvering you so that you were now lying down with your head slightly raised with the help of a pillow. you didn't know if he purposefully wanted to make sure you had a good view of him as he began his task.

he awkwardly positioned himself over you, his lips eagerly seeking yours in a passionate and gentle kiss. his tongue slipped past your lips, hungrily exploring and mapping out every inch of your mouth. it was something you had noticed about him — he really loved to kiss you. you had no doubt that you could make him cum with just one make-out session.

mark's hands found the rope of your robe, easily unfurling it to reveal your bare body beneath. he pulled away from the kiss, gasping for breath, before moving his lips to your jaw and continuing downward to your neck. he relished in the sounds of your soft sighs and the way you arched your neck, providing him with more access. he gently sucked and nipped at your skin, leaving a trail of love bites, each one followed by a soothing kiss.

he had read that foreplay was an effective way to build anticipation, and he wholeheartedly agreed. it was something he had experienced firsthand with you. when you did that with him, it was all more satisfying when it came to the main act.

mark's hands roamed over your body, gently cupping your breasts and giving them a light squeeze before continuing their journey. they moved down to caress your sides, eventually coming to rest on your hips, his touch leaving a trail of tingles in its wake.

mark began to move down your body, his lips planting soft, lingering kisses along the way. with each kiss, he inched further down, eventually reaching between your legs. the sight of your glistening pussy making he whimper softly.

his lips pressed against your inner thighs, creating a trail of gentle kisses as he moved closer and closer to your core. you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

mark quickly moved towards the main attraction, aware that prolonging the wait too much could become monotonous. he had learned that there was a certain balance to be maintained to ensure maximum enjoyment and pleasure.

the first gentle lick of mark's tongue against your pussy drew a soft gasp from your lips. your surprised response served as encouragement for him to continue. eager to please, he wrapped his arms around your thighs, firmly pulling you closer so that his mouth was perfectly aligned with you.

with more confidence, his tongue roamed through your slick folds, collecting that sweet, stick fluid that made him hum in satisfaction, the pleasant vibrations eliciting a soft moan from you. mark eagerly buried his face between your legs, his tongue sliding along your slit with growing confidence.

he closed his eyes as he kept devouring you, his tongue circled your clit, teasing it, before sucking it into his mouth. your hands found its way to his hair, your fingers tangling between his strands tightly as you pressed him against you even more.

mark pulled away for a briefly to look up at you, his chin glistening with your juices and his face flushed. “am i doing it r—” you cut him off by firmly guiding him back to his task. "fuck, don't stop, mark," you hissed, rocking your hips against his face, moaning when his tongue started to fuck you again, licking and flicking at your heated flesh.

you arched your back and squeezed your thighs around his head, your breath coming in sharp gasps. your moans served as a measure of his abilities, and he could tell that he was doing well because your sounds were becoming increasingly louder. he doubled his efforts, eating you like you were the most delicious meal he's ever had — and it probably was.

he could tell you were close because he noticed your thighs trembling slightly and way your moans were growing in volume and pitch. he knew that he had to keep up the pace, so he decided to try something else. he quickly and smoothly slipped two fingers inside you, smiling when he listened your whimper.

his fingers caressed your inner walls, scissoring them open and making way for him to thrust his tongue a little further, soon returning to your clit, sucking relentlessly. he pumped his fingers in and out of your wet heat, curling them just enough to hit that sweet spot and that was the final straw he needed to make you cum, crying out his name.

your grip on mark's hair tightened to the point of being painful as you reached your climax, your body arching and your hips pressing against his face. for a few seconds, it was as if you were trying to suffocate him with your pussy, which was… oddly hot for him, he weren’t sure if he was supposed to be this turned on.

with a satisfied moan, mark diligently lapped up your juices, not wanting to leave a single drop behind. he savored your delicious taste and couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction in knowing he was the pleasing you, finally.

mark slowly raised his head, his gaze meeting yours as he took his time to suck his fingers clean. he was in absolute awe at the sight before him. your hair was tousled, your breath coming in short pants, and a faint gleam of sweat adorned your forehead. your eyes were heavy-lidded and fixated on him, a sight that filled him with pride.

mark's voice broke the silence with a soft compliment, "you look divine..." he bit his lower lip, his words carrying genuine admiration for your appearance. a gentle laugh escaped your lips, touched by the sincere appreciation in his eyes.

“umm, i don’t know if god would approve that," you raised an eyebrow, a playful glimmer in your eyes as you pulled him up to meet your lips in a kiss, the taste of your essence still clung to his lips.

"i couldn't care less if it's you," mark murmured against your lips, his body molding against yours as if he was a puppet in your hands.

you teased, a frisky smirk on your lips, "hmm, that was quite the romantic statement, father. are you catching feelings?"

mark buried his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling against your skin and dropping soft kisses there.

“maybe i am.”

[hobicakess]

PLAYING DANGEROUS | (one)

summary: It's been almost three years since Jack in the box was caught, and no one could make him talk. No one knew his story, and what drove him to become the monster he was today. That is until you're assigned your first story. What makes you so lucky?

rating: 18+ (I'm not your mother you're in control of what you consume)

pairings: Journalist!Reader x Criminal!JungHoseok x CEO!Kim Namjoon x Detective!MinYoongi.

warnings: warnings: no thoroughly edited, EW Ai , character death (nothing to cry about), black/plus sized coded reader, talks of murder, talks of torture, corporate evilness, violence, Mc reads hobi to filth, yandere characters, possessive/obsessive behavior, short hair namjoon (yes that's a warning), one maknae introduction, maknae helping cause chaos, cigarettes, Yoonie is an angry kitty this chapter, bratty mc, mc is kinda a bitch (a bad one at that), unhinged serial killer hobi (joker vibes tbh) , yoongi hates his job, namjoon loves his job (he gets to piss you off everyday) SMUT— nothing too crazy , choking, sub mc , missionary, mating press , man handling (yummy)

a/n: HEYYY omg this took me so long to write and it's just a little over 2k words... LMAO I suck i know, but we're getting there I pinkie promise. I really hope you all enjoy this and constructive criticism is welcome!!

TAGLIST: @sumzysworld @bbgniecyy @paramedicnerd004 @heartsbr0ken @grltwin @superbbananananana @secfir @darkuni63 @thisladysperspective @p34rluv @secfir @sarcastic-cookie @coffeedepressionsoup @ot7nem @italiekim @cynicalbitch666 @jalexd @whenthebeatdrop-beatdrop

2 MONTHS BEFORE JACKS ESCAPE

Kim multimedia station.

The place of business was always busy and there was never not anything to be done, Endless reports and stories in need of being written, the podcast teams always chattering about the hottest topics.

KMMs was a journalist's dream — your dream.

You were a known face around the company both online and in person. A pretty foreigner who was damn good at her job and that made you favored by the late CEO Kim. You were always hand picked by him to attend press conferences in his favor. He treated you kindly, allowing you into a large world of business pulling strings to get you the best stories helping you— a once broke freshly graduated English major climbing up in the world of reporting.

It's only been three months since CEO Kim passed away and the company was changing fast. You were grateful that you weren't a part of the many that were fired and replaced by new faces and AI, and you were now noticing how low the viewers were on podcasts, social media and blogs.

KMM was dying out very slowly and that meant you might go away with it. You were dedicated to your work, and the company that helped you become the person you were today.

And you were willing to do anything to not be forgotten.

Sleeping was not on the agenda right now.

A quick double tap to a cell phone showed an awfully bright screen reading 4:40 am. You had been lying in your bed mind racing while staring at your wall for the past hour and a half.

Jack in the box.

Rolling out the tangled bedsheets and arms you pull on a large T-shirt that'd been discarded a long with the other items of clothing on the floor shuffling towards the desk in the corner of your room. Laptop already open from your previous research when you pull out a pack of cigarettes from your drawer before plunging deep into the web. Your mouse clicks every site as your pen moved furiously taking in all the information you can about said serial killer.

“On May 14th, 2018 Serial Killer Jack In The Box was finally caught after a murdering spree in Seoul. The killings of ordinary outgoing individuals taken with a quick swipe of a knife and a long torture method.”

"Before his kills Jack likes to taunt his victim. He ironically sends them a Jack in the box to let them know they're next. The next few days said victim lives in constant fear, looking over their shoulder, leading the mostly known outgoing victim to slowly isolate themselves from loved ones in fear of them being hurt, eventually this leads to insomnia and in some cases hallucinations and histera. Then Jack disappears for a while making them think they're finally okay and he's gone until he wasn't."

The scoff that left your lips echoed through the quiet room, breathing out the nicotine smoke from your Cancer stick.

So Jack was an antisocial loser and took out his lack of social skills on people who could.

"No one knows of Jack's real identity. Police have reported that the man has lived many lives and has owned many faces for the past 11 years. Reporters have tried their hardest for the past 4 years to get a one on one interview with the man but unfortunately he refuses to talk only resorting to violence."

A reporter says he went for a handshake and left with two missing fingers.

Another says he watched the man bang his head on the wall hard enough to bleed when he asked the murderer's real name.

A broken arm??

“Fuck” you huff flicking the ash at the butt of your cigarette. You stare at the mugshot photos supplied at the end of the article. Dark wide eyes, shaggy black hair falling over his forehead, the piercings sticking from the bridge of his nose eyebrow and top lip.

The look definitely screams psycho but…. he was kinda hot. It took everything in you not to go and click the endless fanfiction that you stumbled upon.

A pair of warm lips press onto your shoulder causing you to jump. Turning to look over your shoulder at the shirtless sight of Kim Namjoon.

“We have to be up in four hours, baby, come back to bed.”

You hum into his embrace with a pout stubbing out the cigarette into the pink ashtray beside your computer. “Did you know Jack went through eight lawyers? Until one day he randomly called Kim Seokjin. That high profile guy from the law firm we're partnered with? they must know each other”

Though Namjoons attention was not on the words that were leaving your mouth. Hands wander all over your body while placing kisses on your neck, and cheeks.

“He literally bit the finger of the last reporter clean off. Like do you know how much force you have to put into that? I think he reads too much gothic liter—”

Cutting you off with a quick grab of your jaw turning your head to connect his plump lips to own. Pulling away with a cheeky dimpled smirk, “I’m not sure how I feel about you talking about another man.”

“Well you shouldn't feel any type of way because you aren't MY man.”

You squeal when you're lifted up from your chair and throw over a broad shoulder. He huffs when he throws you onto the memory foam comforter, your (his) shirt lifting up your thighs exposing your bare cunt. Immediately his big body was hovering over you as he slightly pressed his body weight onto you.

“Get off you dick” pushing and smacking his tan shoulders but that did nothing for you at this moment. “Well I'm trying to put it in you.”

He bullies your legs up over his shoulders as he taps his hard piece against the wetness between your thighs. “If something happens to me during this case I swear” choking on your words as he slowly but surely presses his thick head into your cunt.

“Fuck — may the man himself strike me down.”

Hand reaching to grip your throat smashing your lips together. Luckily your mind left the thoughts of the serial killer , the only thing on your mind right now was Namjoon and his ridiculously large cockm

It wasn't weird for you to obsess over your assignments to the point where it was all you thought about. Everyone does that.

Though this one you couldn't seem to finesse your way out of. Without the help of the late Kim you'd have to pull your own strings to get what you wanted and now that Namjoon was in charge he loved making your life harder.

“Y/n.”

Your head snaps up from your laptop hand stalling from moving on your notepad face to face with gorgeously pale Detective Min Yoongi.

“Yoonie” you smile, motioning for him to sit in front of you. He looked different from when you last saw him all the months ago, more tired and cat- like you guessed it was from the heavy responsibilities that came with the position as Chief of Seouls police department

“Did you just call to look at me?”

“Sorry it's just been . . a while” you push the large Iced Americano towards him as a peace offering. He gladly accepted it with an amused raise of an eyebrow, “You know I just wait for your call.”

“The phone works both ways” you internally wince , you sounded like an estranged father talking to his child.

“What do you want?” A frown spread across your face and lips, shutting your laptop. “I can't call an old friend for a friendly coffee date.”

You waited for his answer as he took his time generously drinking from his plastic cup. With a smack of his lips he sat the cup down leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You only call me ‘Yoonie’ when you want something” eyes scanning over the scatter of papers and notes taking up your side of the table.

“This must be serious”

Hands going to clasp under your chin you sigh, cutting the bullshit. “Three years ago you were the lead investigator on the Jack in the box case which brought you from rookie detective to Chief of police.”

“I was wondering if you could help old friend out tell me what you know about-”

“No.” He cuts you off with little to no thought.

“No? Why not? This isn't our first rodeo Min”

There were plenty of times Yoongi helped you with stories without a second thought. He'd give you case files, witnesses, and anything you needed but why not now?

“Anybody but him”

You scoffed at him, irritation rising in your body. “I need this story not anyone else.”

“Well I can't help you, princess.”

“That's bullshit!” Your voice raises causing a couple people around you to turn their attention towards the two of you. He stood up, chair scraping the floor, slamming a few dollars on the table. “Call me if you need anything else.”

Turning on his heel he leaves you sitting there in your slowly growing rage. You quickly hopped from your seat chasing after him, managing to catch up with his long strides. “Yoongi slow down dammit”

He twirls around grabbing onto you by your arm, “Who gave you this story.

“Namjoon he-” you whine as his grip tightens on your arm as his eyes slit. The angry red scar on his face makes his angry stare look even more intimidating. “You don't understand how dangerous Jack is. Just because he's behind bars doesn't mean he won't have people on the outside that will whack you for being a nosy reporter.”

He softens his hold, lifting his hand to rub your cold cheek. “If something happens to you. . .” He shakes his head letting you go.

“Sit this one out Y/N I don't want to see you in our precinct mortuary.” with that he walks away disappearing into the crowd.

You sniff doing the walk of shame back to the Café sitting back in your seat with your head in your hands

Detective Min Yoongi.

“Excuse me Ma’am” the blonde barista came over holding a box of blueberry doughnuts which happened to be your favorite. “It's on the house.. everyone saw your fight with your boyfriend, manager said this might help cheer you up.”

“Oh! Thank you but he wasn't my boyfriend, just a work colleague.” You tried to defend yourself but the sympathy in his eyes only grew so you accepted the treat with another thank you. “What is your name? I've never seen you here before.”

A soft brightens his pretty face, eyes scrunching slightly adding to the prettiness of his face. “Park Jimin, Ma’am.”

MEANWHILE

The buzz of the electrically wired door opening didn't alert the man that stayed deep in the corner of his cell. “Long time no see.”

“Why now?” the visitor asks, “After all this time you choose now.”

He giggled, the haunting sound bouncing off the walls. “Did you bring what I asked for”

The visitor threw the pictures and the box of cigarettes into the cell. “Answer my question.”

“It's been three longgg years.” He finally answered, moving from his corner to pick up the photos. “Tell me is she this gorgeous in person?”

“Just for her?”

“And I need to stretch my legs” he laughs louder this time the high pitched sound echoed even through the thick steel door that kept him locked in tight.

Jack was ready to play more games

©hobicakesss , please don't repost or steal my work. don't be a loser

[incorrectbatfam]

Due to various circumstances, one of the batfam has to substitute for Bruce at the next Wayne Enterprises Board of Executives meeting. How do each of them do at that job?

Dick: I officially declare today Casual Friday.

Dick: *rips off pants to reveal Hawaiian shorts underneath*

Secretary: It's Tuesday.

———————

Jason: Here's a thought exercise for everyone. Say you're chasing a high-profile criminal like, I dunno, Black Mask, and you have one hour to locate his hideout in the warehouse district. With only a notepad and your knowledge of advanced ballistics, how many goons do you think he'll have posted around the perimeter?

Accountant: *raises hand*

Jason: Yeah?

Accountant: Aren't you supposed to be dead?

Jason: Irrelevant.

———————

Tim: To illustrate my proposed budget cut, let's use the analogy of assassins ripping out your spleen. To chip away at the layers of the body would be inefficient and take up more resources than necessary, whereas if we identify a streamlined path beforehand, we can make a quick slice and leave the rest of our time to focus on necessary repairs.

New employee, whispering: What's he talking about?

Veteran employee, whispering back: He's Red Robin. We just pretend we don't know.

———————

Stephanie: You, over there. How much do you get paid?

Intern: I don't.

Stephanie: Unacceptable. Follow me, we're taking a business trip to the ATM.

———————

Damian: From now on, Wayne Enterprises is a pet-friendly office.

Sales rep: Even my horse?

Damian: Especially your horse.

———————

Cassandra: *blinks*

Financial advisor: Huh?

Cassandra: *blinks*

Financial advisor: Of course, I should've thought of that.

Cassandra: *blinks*

Financial advisor: Yes, ma'am, I'll get right on it.

———————

Duke: So... what are you working on?

Web developer: *spouts off a bunch of design jargon*

Duke: Cool, cool. What about a comments section?

Web developer: Not gonna lie dude, I completely forgot about that.

Duke: That's okay. You look like you could use a break. Wanna get smoothies?

———————

Barbara: Why isn't the PowerPoint working?

IT person: The clicker needs batteries.

Barbara: And why doesn't it have any?

IT person: We ran out of double-As.

Barbara: A multi-billion dollar company and we run out of double-A batteries?

———————

Selina: *delivering a presentation*

Bruce: *walks in*

Bruce: Honey, I brought you lunch.

Executive: You told us you were out of town.

Bruce: I was. You think I can find burritos this good in Gotham?

———————

Kate: Alright ladies, I need to see those reports on my desk by the end of the day.

Researcher: Why?

Kate: …I've never had anyone ask that.

———————

Senior manager: Can we start already? I have places to be.

Alfred: Not until this conference room is spotless.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The disenshittified internet starts with loyal "user agents"

I'm in TARTU, ESTONIA! Overcoming the Enshittocene (TOMORROW, May 8, 6PM, Prima Vista Literary Festival keynote, University of Tartu Library, Struwe 1). AI, copyright and creative workers' labor rights (May 10, 8AM: Science Fiction Research Association talk, Institute of Foreign Languages and Cultures building, Lossi 3, lobby). A talk for hackers on seizing the means of computation (May 10, 3PM, University of Tartu Delta Centre, Narva 18, room 1037).

There's one overwhelmingly common mistake that people make about enshittification: assuming that the contagion is the result of the Great Forces of History, or that it is the inevitable end-point of any kind of for-profit online world.

In other words, they class enshittification as an ideological phenomenon, rather than as a material phenomenon. Corporate leaders have always felt the impulse to enshittify their offerings, shifting value from end users, business customers and their own workers to their shareholders. The decades of largely enshittification-free online services were not the product of corporate leaders with better ideas or purer hearts. Those years were the result of constraints on the mediocre sociopaths who would trade our wellbeing and happiness for their own, constraints that forced them to act better than they do today, even if the were not any better:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

Corporate leaders' moments of good leadership didn't come from morals, they came from fear. Fear that a competitor would take away a disgruntled customer or worker. Fear that a regulator would punish the company so severely that all gains from cheating would be wiped out. Fear that a rival technology – alternative clients, tracker blockers, third-party mods and plugins – would emerge that permanently severed the company's relationship with their customers. Fears that key workers in their impossible-to-replace workforce would leave for a job somewhere else rather than participate in the enshittification of the services they worked so hard to build:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/22/kargo-kult-kaptialism/#dont-buy-it

When those constraints melted away – thanks to decades of official tolerance for monopolies, which led to regulatory capture and victory over the tech workforce – the same mediocre sociopaths found themselves able to pursue their most enshittificatory impulses without fear.

The effects of this are all around us. In This Is Your Phone On Feminism, the great Maria Farrell describes how audiences at her lectures profess both love for their smartphones and mistrust for them. Farrell says, "We love our phones, but we do not trust them. And love without trust is the definition of an abusive relationship":

https://conversationalist.org/2019/09/13/feminism-explains-our-toxic-relationships-with-our-smartphones/

I (re)discovered this Farrell quote in a paper by Robin Berjon, who recently co-authored a magnificent paper with Farrell entitled "We Need to Rewild the Internet":

https://www.noemamag.com/we-need-to-rewild-the-internet/

The new Berjon paper is narrower in scope, but still packed with material examples of the way the internet goes wrong and how it can be put right. It's called "The Fiduciary Duties of User Agents":

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3827421

In "Fiduciary Duties," Berjon focuses on the technical term "user agent," which is how web browsers are described in formal standards documents. This notion of a "user agent" is a holdover from a more civilized age, when technologists tried to figure out how to build a new digital space where technology served users.

A web browser that's a "user agent" is a comforting thought. An agent's job is to serve you and your interests. When you tell it to fetch a web-page, your agent should figure out how to get that page, make sense of the code that's embedded in, and render the page in a way that represents its best guess of how you'd like the page seen.

For example, the user agent might judge that you'd like it to block ads. More than half of all web users have installed ad-blockers, constituting the largest consumer boycott in human history:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

Your user agent might judge that the colors on the page are outside your visual range. Maybe you're colorblind, in which case, the user agent could shift the gamut of the colors away from the colors chosen by the page's creator and into a set that suits you better:

https://dankaminsky.com/dankam/

Or maybe you (like me) have a low-vision disability that makes low-contrast type difficult to impossible to read, and maybe the page's creator is a thoughtless dolt who's chosen light grey-on-white type, or maybe they've fallen prey to the absurd urban legend that not-quite-black type is somehow more legible than actual black type:

https://uxplanet.org/basicdesign-never-use-pure-black-in-typography-36138a3327a6

The user agent is loyal to you. Even when you want something the page's creator didn't consider – even when you want something the page's creator violently objects to – your user agent acts on your behalf and delivers your desires, as best as it can.

Now – as Berjon points out – you might not know exactly what you want. Like, you know that you want the privacy guarantees of TLS (the difference between "http" and "https") but not really understand the internal cryptographic mysteries involved. Your user agent might detect evidence of shenanigans indicating that your session isn't secure, and choose not to show you the web-page you requested.

This is only superficially paradoxical. Yes, you asked your browser for a web-page. Yes, the browser defied your request and declined to show you that page. But you also asked your browser to protect you from security defects, and your browser made a judgment call and decided that security trumped delivery of the page. No paradox needed.

But of course, the person who designed your user agent/browser can't anticipate all the ways this contradiction might arise. Like, maybe you're trying to access your own website, and you know that the security problem the browser has detected is the result of your own forgetful failure to renew your site's cryptographic certificate. At that point, you can tell your browser, "Thanks for having my back, pal, but actually this time it's fine. Stand down and show me that webpage."

That's your user agent serving you, too.

User agents can be well-designed or they can be poorly made. The fact that a user agent is designed to act in accord with your desires doesn't mean that it always will. A software agent, like a human agent, is not infallible.

However – and this is the key – if a user agent thwarts your desire due to a fault, that is fundamentally different from a user agent that thwarts your desires because it is designed to serve the interests of someone else, even when that is detrimental to your own interests.

A "faithless" user agent is utterly different from a "clumsy" user agent, and faithless user agents have become the norm. Indeed, as crude early internet clients progressed in sophistication, they grew increasingly treacherous. Most non-browser tools are designed for treachery.

A smart speaker or voice assistant routes all your requests through its manufacturer's servers and uses this to build a nonconsensual surveillance dossier on you. Smart speakers and voice assistants even secretly record your speech and route it to the manufacturer's subcontractors, whether or not you're explicitly interacting with them:

https://www.sciencealert.com/creepy-new-amazon-patent-would-mean-alexa-records-everything-you-say-from-now-on

By design, apps and in-app browsers seek to thwart your preferences regarding surveillance and tracking. An app will even try to figure out if you're using a VPN to obscure your location from its maker, and snitch you out with its guess about your true location.

Mobile phones assign persistent tracking IDs to their owners and transmit them without permission (to its credit, Apple recently switch to an opt-in system for transmitting these IDs) (but to its detriment, Apple offers no opt-out from its own tracking, and actively lies about the very existence of this tracking):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

An Android device running Chrome and sitting inert, with no user interaction, transmits location data to Google every five minutes. This is the "resting heartbeat" of surveillance for an Android device. Ask that device to do any work for you and its pulse quickens, until it is emitting a nearly continuous stream of information about your activities to Google:

https://digitalcontentnext.org/blog/2018/08/21/google-data-collection-research/

These faithless user agents both reflect and enable enshittification. The locked-down nature of the hardware and operating systems for Android and Ios devices means that manufacturers – and their business partners – have an arsenal of legal weapons they can use to block anyone who gives you a tool to modify the device's behavior. These weapons are generically referred to as "IP rights" which are, broadly speaking, the right to control the conduct of a company's critics, customers and competitors:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

A canny tech company can design their products so that any modification that puts the user's interests above its shareholders is illegal, a violation of its copyright, patent, trademark, trade secrets, contracts, terms of service, nondisclosure, noncompete, most favored nation, or anticircumvention rights. Wrap your product in the right mix of IP, and its faithless betrayals acquire the force of law.

This is – in Jay Freeman's memorable phrase – "felony contempt of business model." While more than half of all web users have installed an ad-blocker, thus overriding the manufacturer's defaults to make their browser a more loyal agent, no app users have modified their apps with ad-blockers.

The first step of making such a blocker, reverse-engineering the app, creates criminal liability under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, with a maximum penalty of five years in prison and a $500,000 fine. An app is just a web-page skinned in sufficient IP to make it a felony to add an ad-blocker to it (no wonder every company wants to coerce you into using its app, rather than its website).

If you know that increasing the invasiveness of the ads on your web-page could trigger mass installations of ad-blockers by your users, it becomes irrational and self-defeating to ramp up your ads' invasiveness. The possibility of interoperability acts as a constraint on tech bosses' impulse to enshittify their products.

The shift to platforms dominated by treacherous user agents – apps, mobile ecosystems, walled gardens – weakens or removes that constraint. As your ability to discipline your agent so that it serves you wanes, the temptation to turn your user agent against you grows, and enshittification follows.

This has been tacitly understood by technologists since the web's earliest days and has been reaffirmed even as enshittification increased. Berjon quotes extensively from "The Internet Is For End-Users," AKA Internet Architecture Board RFC 8890:

Defining the user agent role in standards also creates a virtuous cycle; it allows multiple implementations, allowing end users to switch between them with relatively low costs (…). This creates an incentive for implementers to consider the users' needs carefully, which are often reflected into the defining standards. The resulting ecosystem has many remaining problems, but a distinguished user agent role provides an opportunity to improve it.

And the W3C's Technical Architecture Group echoes these sentiments in "Web Platform Design Principles," which articulates a "Priority of Constituencies" that is supposed to be central to the W3C's mission:

User needs come before the needs of web page authors, which come before the needs of user agent implementors, which come before the needs of specification writers, which come before theoretical purity.

https://w3ctag.github.io/design-principles/

But the W3C's commitment to faithful agents is contingent on its own members' commitment to these principles. In 2017, the W3C finalized "EME," a standard for blocking mods that interact with streaming videos. Nominally aimed at preventing copyright infringement, EME also prevents users from choosing to add accessibility add-ons that beyond the ones the streaming service permits. These services may support closed captioning and additional narration of visual elements, but they block tools that adapt video for color-blind users or prevent strobe effects that trigger seizures in users with photosensitive epilepsy.

The fight over EME was the most contentious struggle in the W3C's history, in which the organization's leadership had to decide whether to honor the "priority of constituencies" and make a standard that allowed users to override manufacturers, or whether to facilitate the creation of faithless agents specifically designed to thwart users' desires on behalf of manufacturers:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/09/open-letter-w3c-director-ceo-team-and-membership

This fight was settled in favor of a handful of extremely large and powerful companies, over the objections of a broad collection of smaller firms, nonprofits representing users, academics and other parties agitating for a web built on faithful agents. This coincided with the W3C's operating budget becoming entirely dependent on the very large sums its largest corporate members paid.

W3C membership is on a sliding scale, based on a member's size. Nominally, the W3C is a one-member, one-vote organization, but when a highly concentrated collection of very high-value members flex their muscles, W3C leadership seemingly perceived an existential risk to the organization, and opted to sacrifice the faithfulness of user agents in service to the anti-user priorities of its largest members.

For W3C's largest corporate members, the fight was absolutely worth it. The W3C's EME standard transformed the web, making it impossible to ship a fully featured web-browser without securing permission – and a paid license – from one of the cartel of companies that dominate the internet. In effect, Big Tech used the W3C to secure the right to decide who would compete with them in future, and how:

https://blog.samuelmaddock.com/posts/the-end-of-indie-web-browsers/

Enshittification arises when the everyday mediocre sociopaths who run tech companies are freed from the constraints that act against them. When the web – and its browsers – were a big, contented, diverse, competitive space, it was harder for tech companies to collude to capture standards bodies like the W3C to secure even more dominance. As the web turned into Tom Eastman's "five giant websites filled with screenshots of text from the other four," that kind of collusion became much easier:

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

In arguing for faithful agents, Berjon associates himself with the group of scholars, regulators and activists who call for user agents to serve as "information fiduciaries." Mostly, information fiduciaries come up in the context of user privacy, with the idea that entities that hold a user's data would have the obligation to put the user's interests ahead of their own. Think of a lawyer's fiduciary duty in respect of their clients, to give advice that reflects the client's best interests, even when that conflicts with the lawyer's own self-interest. For example, a lawyer who believes that settling a case is the best course of action for a client is required to tell them so, even if keeping the case going would generate more billings for the lawyer and their firm.

For a user agent to be faithful, it must be your fiduciary. It must put your interests ahead of the interests of the entity that made it or operates it. Browsers, email clients, and other internet software that served as a fiduciary would do things like automatically blocking tracking (which most email clients don't do, especially webmail clients made by companies like Google, who also sell advertising and tracking).

Berjon contemplates a legally mandated fiduciary duty, citing Lindsey Barrett's "Confiding in Con Men":

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3354129

He describes a fiduciary duty as a remedy for the enforcement failures of EU's GDPR, a solidly written, and dismally enforced, privacy law. A legally backstopped duty for agents to be fiduciaries would also help us distinguish good and bad forms of "innovation" – innovation in ways of thwarting a user's will are always bad.

Now, the tech giants insist that they are already fiduciaries, and that when they thwart a user's request, that's more like blocking access to a page where the encryption has been compromised than like HAL9000's "I can't let you do that, Dave." For example, when Louis Barclay created "Unfollow Everything," he (and his enthusiastic users) found that automating the process of unfollowing every account on Facebook made their use of the service significantly better:

https://slate.com/technology/2021/10/facebook-unfollow-everything-cease-desist.html

When Facebook shut the service down with blood-curdling legal threats, they insisted that they were simply protecting users from themselves. Sure, this browser automation tool – which just automatically clicked links on Facebook's own settings pages – seemed to do what the users wanted. But what if the user interface changed? What if so many users added this feature to Facebook without Facebook's permission that they overwhelmed Facebook's (presumably tiny and fragile) servers and crashed the system?

These arguments have lately resurfaced with Ethan Zuckerman and Knight First Amendment Institute's lawsuit to clarify that "Unfollow Everything 2.0" is legal and doesn't violate any of those "felony contempt of business model" laws:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/02/kaiju-v-kaiju/

Sure, Zuckerman seems like a good guy, but what if he makes a mistake and his automation tool does something you don't want? You, the Facebook user, are also a nice guy, but let's face it, you're also a naive dolt and you can't be trusted to make decisions for yourself. Those decisions can only be made by Facebook, whom we can rely upon to exercise its authority wisely.

Other versions of this argument surfaced in the debate over the EU's decision to mandate interoperability for end-to-end encrypted (E2EE) messaging through the Digital Markets Act (DMA), which would let you switch from, say, Whatsapp to Signal and still send messages to your Whatsapp contacts.

There are some good arguments that this could go horribly awry. If it is rushed, or internally sabotaged by the EU's state security services who loathe the privacy that comes from encrypted messaging, it could expose billions of people to serious risks.

But that's not the only argument that DMA opponents made: they also argued that even if interoperable messaging worked perfectly and had no security breaches, it would still be bad for users, because this would make it impossible for tech giants like Meta, Google and Apple to spy on message traffic (if not its content) and identify likely coordinated harassment campaigns. This is literally the identical argument the NSA made in support of its "metadata" mass-surveillance program: "Reading your messages might violate your privacy, but watching your messages doesn't."

This is obvious nonsense, so its proponents need an equally obviously intellectually dishonest way to defend it. When called on the absurdity of "protecting" users by spying on them against their will, they simply shake their heads and say, "You just can't understand the burdens of running a service with hundreds of millions or billions of users, and if I even tried to explain these issues to you, I would divulge secrets that I'm legally and ethically bound to keep. And even if I could tell you, you wouldn't understand, because anyone who doesn't work for a Big Tech company is a naive dolt who can't be trusted to understand how the world works (much like our users)."

Not coincidentally, this is also literally the same argument the NSA makes in support of mass surveillance, and there's a very useful name for it: scalesplaining.

Now, it's totally true that every one of us is capable of lapses in judgment that put us, and the people connected to us, at risk (my own parents gave their genome to the pseudoscience genetic surveillance company 23andme, which means they have my genome, too). A true information fiduciary shouldn't automatically deliver everything the user asks for. When the agent perceives that the user is about to put themselves in harm's way, it should throw up a roadblock and explain the risks to the user.

But the system should also let the user override it.

This is a contentious statement in information security circles. Users can be "socially engineered" (tricked), and even the most sophisticated users are vulnerable to this:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

The only way to be certain a user won't be tricked into taking a course of action is to forbid that course of action under any circumstances. If there is any means by which a user can flip the "are you very sure?" circuit-breaker back on, then the user can be tricked into using that means.

This is absolutely true. As you read these words, all over the world, vulnerable people are being tricked into speaking the very specific set of directives that cause a suspicious bank-teller to authorize a transfer or cash withdrawal that will result in their life's savings being stolen by a scammer:

https://www.thecut.com/article/amazon-scam-call-ftc-arrest-warrants.html

We keep making it harder for bank customers to make large transfers, but so long as it is possible to make such a transfer, the scammers have the means, motive and opportunity to discover how the process works, and they will go on to trick their victims into invoking that process.

Beyond a certain point, making it harder for bank depositors to harm themselves creates a world in which people who aren't being scammed find it nearly impossible to draw out a lot of cash for an emergency and where scam artists know exactly how to manage the trick. After all, non-scammers only rarely experience emergencies and thus have no opportunity to become practiced in navigating all the anti-fraud checks, while the fraudster gets to run through them several times per day, until they know them even better than the bank staff do.

This is broadly true of any system intended to control users at scale – beyond a certain point, additional security measures are trivially surmounted hurdles for dedicated bad actors and as nearly insurmountable hurdles for their victims:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/07/como-is-infosec/

At this point, we've had a couple of decades' worth of experience with technological "walled gardens" in which corporate executives get to override their users' decisions about how the system should work, even when that means reaching into the users' own computer and compelling it to thwart the user's desire. The record is inarguable: while companies often use those walls to lock bad guys out of the system, they also use the walls to lock their users in, so that they'll be easy pickings for the tech company that owns the system:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained

This is neatly predicted by enshittification's theory of constraints: when a company can override your choices, it will be irresistibly tempted to do so for its own benefit, and to your detriment.

What's more, the mere possibility that you can override the way the system works acts as a disciplining force on corporate executives, forcing them to reckon with your priorities even when these are counter to their shareholders' interests. If Facebook is genuinely worried that an "Unfollow Everything" script will break its servers, it can solve that by giving users an unfollow everything button of its own design. But so long as Facebook can sue anyone who makes an "Unfollow Everything" tool, they have no reason to give their users such a button, because it would give them more control over their Facebook experience, including the controls needed to use Facebook less.

It's been more than 20 years since Seth Schoen and I got a demo of Microsoft's first "trusted computing" system, with its "remote attestations," which would let remote servers demand and receive accurate information about what kind of computer you were using and what software was running on it.

This could be beneficial to the user – you could send a "remote attestation" to a third party you trusted and ask, "Hey, do you think my computer is infected with malicious software?" Since the trusted computing system produced its report on your computer using a sealed, separate processor that the user couldn't directly interact with, any malicious code you were infected with would not be able to forge this attestation.

But this remote attestation feature could also be used to allow Microsoft to block you from opening a Word document with Libreoffice, Apple Pages, or Google Docs, or it could be used to allow a website to refuse to send you pages if you were running an ad-blocker. In other words, it could transform your information fiduciary into a faithless agent.

Seth proposed an answer to this: "owner override," a hardware switch that would allow you to force your computer to lie on your behalf, when that was beneficial to you, for example, by insisting that you were using Microsoft Word to open a document when you were really using Apple Pages:

https://web.archive.org/web/20021004125515/http://vitanuova.loyalty.org/2002-07-05.html

Seth wasn't naive. He knew that such a system could be exploited by scammers and used to harm users. But Seth calculated – correctly! – that the risks of having a key to let yourself out of the walled garden were less than being stuck in a walled garden where some corporate executive got to decide whether and when you could leave.

Tech executives never stopped questing after a way to turn your user agent from a fiduciary into a traitor. Last year, Google toyed with the idea of adding remote attestation to web browsers, which would let services refuse to interact with you if they thought you were using an ad blocker:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

The reasoning for this was incredible: by adding remote attestation to browsers, they'd be creating "feature parity" with apps – that is, they'd be making it as practical for your browser to betray you as it is for your apps to do so (note that this is the same justification that the W3C gave for creating EME, the treacherous user agent in your browser – "streaming services won't allow you to access movies with your browser unless your browser is as enshittifiable and authoritarian as an app").

Technologists who work for giant tech companies can come up with endless scalesplaining explanations for why their bosses, and not you, should decide how your computer works. They're wrong. Your computer should do what you tell it to do:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/08/your-computer-should-say-what-you-tell-it-say-1

These people can kid themselves that they're only taking away your power and handing it to their boss because they have your best interests at heart. As Upton Sinclair told us, it's impossible to get someone to understand something when their paycheck depends on them not understanding it.

The only way to get a tech boss to consistently treat you well is to ensure that if they stop, you can quit. Anything less is a one-way ticket to enshittification.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/07/treacherous-computing/#rewilding-the-internet

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

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

[pixiekwixie]

The Observation - 1

➺ Miguel O'Hara x Reader || Mature, 18+

➺ Summary - In which Miguel struggles to keep his hands and eyes off his lab assistant.

- Next chapter

➺ warnings - slow burn(?), kissing/making out(?), lot sexual tension, story night be long sorry, some choking, some biting, masturbating (nipple play, fingering, dildo usage, anal play, double orgasm), mentions of breeding

➺ words - 3.7k

➺ notes: i had to get this off my chest, there will be 2 more parts to this, i hope you guys enjoy it. this is also cross-posted to (depending on where you're reading this) tumblr, and ao3; let me know what you guys think; might also write some wholesome sunshine x moody stuff in the future if it works out :)

--- 🕷 ---

"Hey" a voice said from the corner. Startled, you whip your head back to find Jessica caressing her tummy as she sat down on a chair, making herself quite at home. She was a couple of months along now and, by the looks of it, very comfortable in her pajamas.

"Jess, it's not safe for you and the baby...." you sigh, looking back at your computer to resume your work. Jessica urged you to take a break, to sit down and have a conversation but you only shrugged it off by mentioning you were almost done.

"You know, I'd thought you'd hate working here" she watched your back, waiting for a reaction. "There's a lot of wonderful technology here that my Earth doesn't have..." you trail off, focusing more on the work in front of you. You were so close to the end, and although Jess was wonderful, you just wanted to finish things before relaxing.

"I meant, I thought you'd hate working for Miguel"

You looked back at her with furrowed brows, pausing your work, she knew what made you tick and used that to her advantage. Miguel was your boss and there was nothing to hate except his attitude. Sometimes you couldn't stand him, but the combination of advanced technology, your own space, and a mini fridge- definitely outweighed any of his moodiness. It took a lot of convincing for you to join, and had you known he was this broody you probably wouldn't have joined.

At the beginning, you were stubborn on joining the Spider Society because you had thought it was a pity invite, given that you felt you were more intelligent than agile. Although you admit your body was pretty strong and durable- it was only because your parents had enrolled you in a strenuous amount of classes that ranged from dance to karate- and even cooking. The classes had helped with getting into a good college that allowed you to pursue your dream career, but you never sought out anything besides yoga.

When you got bitten by a radioactive Black Widow you thought it was the end of your story, that your years of classes and college were coming to an end, eventually you realized that you weren't actually dying. And as time went on you started to see the new things you could do, and you embraced them. You were excited, you began practicing moves and spent a lot of time learning how to use your webs properly. You felt like you could become a hero, save lives, and become a beacon of hope for your city.

After some rough events that left you feeling depressed, you decided that becoming a hero was no longer something you could pursue. You felt upset about your own decision for days, you felt useless doing nothing but you felt the same way doing something. The life of a hero felt emotionally, and physically, taxing on yourself and the people around you. With time you managed to overcome the guilt and began to understand that there were different ways save people.

Your new path was to be promoted at the Alchemax company in your world- they were good, you had deemed it so after hearing what they had done in other Earths. Eventually you wanted to lead a research department that could help hospitals, and homeless, worldwide.

Even though the current path was similar to that of a superhero, you still felt an immense guilt in your chest. You thought that your powers were a miracle that should be used, but you couldn't, it's not what you wanted anymore and if you went back now- it would only make things worse.

Miguel had spent many months sending Jessica to your dimension to convince you to join the Spider Society. Every time you gave a different reason to reject the offer, feeling as though you wouldn't bring much value to the team.

It only took the man himself showing up at your apartment, on a Tuesday at 3 am, for you to join. He explained thoroughly why he wanted you, although crude, you felt recognized for something other than your powers. It felt like he provided the missing reassurance you needed, you joined.

"He leaves me alone for the most part, the only interactions we have is him sending me emails, and me going to his 'office' to give him his drugs for the week," you let out a soft laugh, you had to admit, was very handsome under all of the stress, responsibility and arrogance. Despite his handsome looks, you still thought he was an asshole that needed to comprehend people better.

"He's demanding though, and... AND rude" rising from you chair, you scrunch your nose and walk to the coffee machine. There's only so much water could do for your nerves if you continued to speak about Miguel's attitude, as of recent it had been worse and you had no idea why. You tried to understand but he'd only shut you out and demand you leave him alone.

"He just want things to go accordingly for the multiverse... even if he's a little-"

"Harsh? Come on, he basically called me useless the other day because I misread the number seven- SEVEN" you raise your voice while adding stuff to your coffee. Holding the sugar container in one hand with a tight grip, it made you upset that he wasn't considerate of his words. You had worked hard to prove he could trust you, and that he hadn't made the wrong choice but his attitude made it hard to work with him.

"That's why I've been late on my reports, ideas, paperwork AND his serum. He needs to learn to respect people, especially me, who makes sure he doesn't go apeshit" Jessica raised an eyebrow at your statement, sure you could be late on paperwork but, being late to give him his liquid gold? The thing he needed to not lash out on his instincts? The thing that helped him keep his powers? She almost thought it was cruel, but she knew you felt stressed and didn't want to make it worst by making you feel bad.

"That sounds cruel but I promise it's not-"

Before Jessica could reply, a deeper voice spoke.

"Oh yeah? Let's talk about that"

It was Miguel and your heard started to pound faster, your hand gripped your coffee cup tight in hope that he hadn't heard what you said. Your nerves grew as you looked around and watched him emerge from a corner, his suit glowing bright with every step, even the way he walked spoke volume about his attitude.

Sure, you had problems with him but you sure as hell were not telling him about them, it's the last thing you needed. He had practically built this place from the ground up and could see everything that everyone was doing if he wanted to- even you, sometimes it creeped you but at this moment it felt erotic.

"Miguel she's stressed she probably didn't mean it, give her a break" Jess watched his back at he made his way towards you, "This isn't about you Jess" he spoke with a quick glance at her, her face dropped to a stoic expression that scared you and it wasn't even directed towards you.

"Miguel" you groan as you watched him walk towards you, hands on his hips as his eyes narrowed at you through his mask.

"I need to talk with you" he leaned down a little to your level, the eyes on his mask narrowed to mirror his face under it. Was he really that mad at what you had said? It's not like he hasn't said worse, except he usually doesn't feel bad about it.

Something about his proximity made you hot despite the growing tension, but it wasn't the nerves anymore, you suddenly felt hyper aware of everything around you but it all slowly led down to the man I front of you, something about him made you feel this way, something smelled so good and it was coming from him, was he wearing some type of cologne? What was so different?

"S-Seriously, you could at least tell me beforehan-"

"You wanna explain to me why-"

"Oh wow, I have to go to the gyno" Jess said abruptly while slowly getting up from her chair. You and Miguel turn to her with confused looks at the sudden declare but her eyes held the same expression as before.

She raised her hand to stop you from saying anything.

"I'm not gonna stick around for an argument, you two need to figure it out" she spoke with a look to Miguel. With a brief smile towards you she walked out the doors that shut behind her and the tension in the air became more obvious as the two of you were left alone.

"I give you one job, and it's to follow my formula, but instead you decide to be unprofessional and talk about me behind my back" Miguel's brows knit together as he looked down at you with glowing red eyes. You tried speak but nothing came out, not because you were intimidated, but because you felt your chest heave with heat at the sight of his crimson eyes.

Closing your eyes you take a deep breath to center yourself and shake off the feeling of imploding heat that was blossoming at your core. Looking back at him you found him pacing round while he muttered things in Spanish that made your tummy churn, pushing your feelings aside you take a deep breathe to center yourself.

Was this a hormonal imbalance?

"Why does it bother you so much this time? I told you 2 weeks ago I was backed up with stuff on my earth and that your-" You were abruptly interrupted with the speedy sight of him in front of you, his eyes were darker and held an intense look like he was analyzing your every feature. He was so close you could feel his breathing tickle the skin of your cheeks, it made the heat blossom inside of you again.

"I've been trying to hold it together and you think it's a game?" He seethed, inching closer until you could practically brush your nose against his, your heart pounded at the notion he was merely inches from being able to kiss you. Forgetting the coffee in your hand you attempt to raise a hand to his cheek but he stopped you by grabbing your wrist with a fast motion, the grip was tight but not hurtful. With a small wince you look up at him again only to see dark look wash over his features, were his eyes more vibrant now?

"Don't," he snarled, not breaking contact with your eyes. Why did you find his anger so attractive? There was something behind that look in his eyes that was pulling you in, the more you stood together the more your body felt attracted to him, so much so that you were starting to feel turned on with your walls pulsed in an erratic way that needed him.

Why the fuck is this happening?

"Y/n" he whispered in a way that made your back shiver, you noticed his eyes look relaxed and rather dazed like he was hot under his suit. Could he be feeling the same way as you? Did he want you as well?

"Y-Yes?" your voice was shaky, breathy, and basically pleading for him for him to do something.

His face slowly leaned down into yours, turning to the side only to brush his lips softly against yours w. Your eyes widened, you could practically hear your heart pounding in your ears as he finally pressed his lips against yours.

Moving against your lips slowly he lowered your wrist to the table behind you. The same hand he used now held your hip steadily as the kiss grew deeper, heavier, and wetter. His tongue prodded your lips and with a small squeeze to your hip you allowed for his tongue to explore your mouth.

Your head felt hazy, and your core pulsed more than before in anticipation. Pulling away from your mouth with a string of saliva connecting you both, you bat your eyelashes up at him with the hope that things progress into something more intimate.

His breathing was rapid yet heavy, and his eyes were full of lust and want with the way you looked up at him. His grip on your hip tightened as his eyelids drooped to admire the saliva on your lip that threatened to fall, before it could drip down to your chin he smashed his lips onto yours- licking the saliva into his own mouth.

His tongue lapped at your lips, and pushed through to feel every crevice within your mouth. With shaky hands you place your arms around his neck as you let him do whatever he pleased, weaving your fingertips into his hair you tug on them a bit which only earned a deep groan from him.

Pulling back from you, he stared intently into your eyes before abruptly wrapping a hand around your throat and applying pressure to the sides. Your eyes closed and your core pulsed repeatedly at the tightness of his hands around your neck, moaning softly into his face you open your eyes to find a droplet of sweat on his forehead.

"You like that, hm? Princesa?" He whispered into your ear, a whiny moan escaped your throat at the feelings of his lips on your ear, using the hand on your neck he maneuvered your face to the side- leaving your neck exposed to him.

You could feel your nipples were fully erect as they pressed uncomfortably against the material of your bra. Opening your eyes, you look down at him only see an intense, and hungry look on his face. Keeping his eyes locked onto yours he pressed his lips onto the delicate skin of your neck, planting small kisses that burnt onto your flesh in a savory manner that made your core gush with arousal.

"M-Miguel..." you mutter as you close your eyes to bask in the pleasure of his lips on your skin, tightening the grip on your throat he bit onto your neck unexpectedly. Gasping at the bite, your fingers held tightly at the hand he had wrapped around your neck- using it to stabilize yourself as he started sucking at your neck, the way his lips enveloped your skin and his tongue worked against you felt like he was trying to feed himself off you.

His actions came to a stop, the hand on your neck had gone too and you opened your eyes to be greeted by an empty view of your lab filled with bright-lit screens and papers scattered. Just like it was before Miguel appeared. Lifting your hand up to your neck you feel the marks of his teeth along with the saliva on your neck that left a warm spot at the touch. In a moment of heat and desperation you bring those fingers to your mouth and suck on them, he was gone for now and and the only trace you had of him was the remnants of his mouth n your neck. Sucking and licking the tips of your fingers making sure to intake any trace there was of him, moaning into your fingers you suck the tips before pulling them out and imagining they were his.

You were still in a hazy view of want and need for him, it would be hard to forget this moment if you saw him again. With blouse and slowly sat down on the floor, holding your chest with both hands you try to slow down your breathing.

"Where did you go..." you whisper to yourself as a pang of sadness hit your chest at the thought he left during a moment where you weren't arguing for once. It had all felt so good but to you, it would've felt better if he had stayed.

Calming down and regulating your breath you realized you would have to see him tomorrow to give him his dose for the next week. You didn't know if you wanted to see again after leaving you just like that.

You hated him for leaving you like that without a trace but you hated that you wanted so much more than just a couple nips to the neck.

--- 🕷 ---

Back in your universe, you were laid in bed watching TV as you thought about the events of earlier, the things he whispered into your ear, the way he touched you, the way his lips felt on your neck and the tight embrace he held around your neck.

Throwing the blankets off you head off your dresser where your dildo was. You had never really used it before as you were always busy with work but today was different, there was a man that awoke something inside of you that had laid dormant. And that man was your boss, Miguel.

Kicking your bottoms off you lie down on your bed again and spread your legs open letting cool air hit your nether lips in a tantalizing way. Discarding the dildo to the side, you bring one of your hands down to your pussy, rubbing in an upwards motion that spread the wetness up to your clit. Groaning at the sensation you rub your erect clit in a slow circular motion, the feeling alone had you throwing your head back with a breathy moan.

You drew your legs up and in until it was just your core fully exposed to the atmosphere of your room, circling your clit faster you used your other hand to lift up your shirt and and rub at your nipples with a feathery touch. The simultaneous stimulation made you moan as you felt your walls clench fast, you had been so desperate to relieve yourself that you could cum at any moment.

Pulling and twisting your nipples you start going faster, your breathing becoming more erratic and you could feel the coil in your abdomen start to come undone but before you could finish you stopped. Your pussy quivered at the denial as your chest hiccupped from the intensity of being so close to the end, it felt like your entire body was spasming and dripping with heat from the denial.

You throw your shirt off quickly and lie back down to spread yourself open again. Rubbing your fingers up and down with a moan you slowly insert two fingers inside of your wet warm walls that quivered around the length of your digits. Pumping your fingers in and out slowly you moan at the idea of his fingers being the ones inside you filling up your throbbing pussy. Hooking your finger in a little you lift you back from the bed at the sensation of your softest spot, pumping in particularly hard at an angle that made you pussy drip more liquid gold onto your sheets.

Your walls pulsed erratically around your fingers as you sped up, your mouth contorting into an 'o' as you felt yourself growing closer. Bringing your other hand down to rub your clit at the same pace you moaned his name as you continued to imagine it was him driving his fingers into your wet hole.

"F-Fuck M-Miguel-" your clit quivered and the coil in your belly came undone, your insides gripped onto your digits harder trying to prevent them from leaving, your body secreting juices that trickled down your anus and sheets.

Pulling your fingers out reluctantly you slide them down to your anus and circle the rim in a slow teasing manner that aroused you again. Pushing a finger inside your eyes fluttered at the pressure- you began to pump in and out in a very slow motion using the wetness from before that made it easier to move in and out.

With your other hand you rub the head of the dildo on your clit in a fast circular motion, hooking the finger in your ass you pumped faster while your clit quivered into a second orgasm. The walls of your ass started to clench as your finger brushed on the soft spot that sent shockwaves to your pussy. You started panting heavily as your pussy and ass throbbed simultaneously, getting closer towards being tipped over the edge you went faster, until your pussy started dripping onto the sheets again.

Pulling the finger out of your ass with a small pop, you grab the dildo and line up the tip with your dripping hole, you felt anxious and excited to be filled up with something thicker than your digits. You slowly ease the tip in, and with a loud moan you began to push the rest of the length inside of you until it fit snuggly in your walls.

"Miguel... fuck me p-please..." you whined as your pulled the dildo all the way out only to smack it back in, pumping in and out with a steady speed where length brushed against every itch within your walls that needed to be filled. Your started getting faster as you thought about him pumping himself inside of your pussy to breed you and use you for his own pleasure.

Your tummy churned as you started to near the edge again, the images of him bent over you driving his cock inside of you, filling you with his cum and knocking you up was enough to to send you over the edge. You slowly rode out your orgasm with the image of him painting your insides full of his seed and filling you up until you were dripping onto the sheets. Coming down to a stop you sighed as you body shook at the intensity, no one had ever made you so wet just by thinking about them.

Your body ached and yearned for him, it was truly strange as you had never felt this way for anyone before. Miguel was different and something about him had set your body ablaze in a way you couldn't stop.

"How the fuck am I going to face him tomorrow..."

--- 🕷 ---

[idesofrevolution]

Requiescat

"Alright, my Musical Mentees, welcome back to my Channel! I am your friendly neighborhood musical critic, Kyle Donaghue, and today we're going to be reviewing something a little bit out of our typical wheelhouse!" Kyle sat with feigned excitement in front of his webcam. Though on the outside he eagerly drew out his intro for the 250th episode of his "Musique Critique" web series, internally he was livid. The young YouTuber had dreamed of becoming the go-to modern music critic on the platform but after almost two years of barely breaking a thousand views, he recognized he needed to do some market research on what his 347 subscribers wanted to see.

Thus, after asking his audience for requests, the music of some newer wannabe rockstar gained traction to be reviewed. To the music conservatory graduate, such low-brow "music" was beneath him; yet reality dictated that the business of content creation was based upon supply and demand. His audience demanded it, and if he wanted to gain any traction whatsoever, he needed to pivot. So, when the band in question, Catalyst, announced a new single drop, Kyle decided he was going to be the very first reviewer to tear it a new one.

"So you guys have been requesting I listen to this band called 'Catalyst' for a long time now, and today is finally the day. Apparently, the lead singer of Catalyst announced a few days ago that a new single was going to be released. I haven't heard much about them, so I did a bit of digging." Kyle clicked around on his computer, dredging up whatever he found in his five minutes of "research" the night before. "So, this band literally came out of nowhere. They're independent and are in talks with some record company about a deal, but nothing has come of it yet, so I'm going into this completely blind. They're out of Austin, Texas, and it's four guys who started the band out of this lead singer's parent's garage. The guy's name is Jaxon Black."

Kyle was literally reading off of some Tumblr fan blog about all this, but his audience certainly didn't need to know that. Why would he put in any effort for a band of this low caliber? "Black is 27 years old and started the band in 2013 when the four of them were in high school. They haven't really found any success, which is one of the reasons I'm surprised you wanted me to review them in the first place. They play in dive bars and some small venues, but nothing really outside of that." Scrolling through the blog, a picture of Jaxon Black actually appeared on the feed. He looked like any run-of-the-mill traditionally hot bad boy that you could find on the cover of GQ. What was so special about him?

"So, it's interesting too. This guy looks completely different than he did back when the band was formed. I totally get he was a kid when he started it, and there's puberty and whatever. But I mean, can you say plastic surgery? C'mon, guys. This guy is a 'serious musician' to you all?" Kyle sighed and wiped his face clear of the disgust he felt inside, putting on the eager façade he felt he needed to emulate. "But for you guys, I will make an exception, I'll give Jaxon Black and Catalyst a chance. I'm doing this for you! Just know that!" With that, he began to screen share, and the handsome visage of Jaxon Black was plastered on his screen as it would be for the whole review. The single didn't have any album art or anything, it was just a Soundcloud link; so in hopes that his audience would see right through this charade, he let would make them look at the face of the man who wrote whatever terrible song he was preparing to hear.

"See what I mean, guys? Ugh. I'm sorry, anyways. Here it is. The link that's posted on this fan blog brings me to Soundcloud, and there's no title or anything. It's just called 'Untitled', so we're off to a great start. But like I said, let's give the guy a chance. So without further ado, here is Catalyst's 'Untitled.'" With the press of the space bar, the sound of a slower ballad began to play through his earbuds.

The song began with a slow and heavy bassline in A flat Locrian, immediately an odd choice to start with. Contrarian, in Kyle's opinion. In terms of influence, it was an odd mixture of stereotypical hard rock like Guns n' Roses or Aerosmith, prog rock like Yes and Pink Floyd, with a random hint of Santana? Kyle did his best to stifle the cringe which trickled down his spine, but his face could do nothing to hide it. He felt the corners of his lip tense up and purse, his left nostril tweaking in pure annoyance.

"Starting off in Locrian... that's an interesting choice." He muttered under his breath. Looking at the progress bar, he saw the song was a full seven minutes and thirty-six seconds long. Lovely. "I feel like this is gonna be 'Hotel California' but bad, not gonna lie to you guys." Though, as the electric guitar faded in, quiet and subtle, it took Kyle by surprise. The technique that Black employed in his riffs, with precision he'd rarely heard outside of a classical guitarist, was nothing short of impressive. "Okay, the guy's got some skill. I'll give him that."

The music felt lugubrious, giving the sensation of swimming through a vat of molasses, pushing and pulling at great tension. It was near impossible for him to put into words, but the gravelly tenor timbre of Black's voice deftly began to soar atop the dredging music below. Evoking Eddie Vetter or perhaps even Jon Bon Jovi, the words were not exactly easy to decipher. Frankly, the song was almost trancelike, as if he'd taken a handful of mushrooms before embarking on his musical journey.

"Guys, I don't know how to explain it, this shouldn't work but it... it kind of does? I don't... I don't know." Kyle leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. The song had actually piqued his interest and intrigue, it was unlike anything he'd ever really heard before. Yet, it felt so familiar in ways far outside his comprehension. Waves of goosebumps washed across his body, barrage after barrage. The music became a full-body experience, and he was rendered speechless for the first time in his life. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Kyle tried his best to analyze the theory engrained into the song but found his mind to be a mere void that was seemingly being filled with viscous liquid. The longer the song went on, the more his mind felt entirely numb.

"I'm... I'm impressed, guys..." Words began to falter, his tongue feeling swollen and heavy. Behind his closed eyes, ribbons of bright colors danced against the black backdrop, bursts of red and purple illuminating the periphery like clouds of heat lightning. He could feel the notes meandering through the air and landing on his body, pressing down with the force of a boulder each time. "He's... he's really good, guys..." A thick dribble of saliva oozed through the gap in his open lips.

It was as if he was being drained of all his energy, all of his willpower, every last ounce of strength which propelled him to live. And yet, despite the darkness he could feel creeping over his body, he was oddly at peace. As if moving of their own accord, Kyle felt himself shuck his shirt from his body, now covered in a sprinkling of sweat across his limber torso and head. The music pulsated from within him as if he were the amp himself, seemingly making the muscles in his arms expand and contract. "I can... I can feel him in there..." Kyle couldn't even fathom how he'd gotten here. He was in his room, sitting in his chair and yet, he was somehow with Black, inside the music. With every heavy pick of the bass, his biceps began to swell and firm; veins distinctly snaked down his strong forearms and into his callousing fingers. His body temperature was now sweltering, shedding every ounce of water and liquid within him into the beadlets of sweat which cascaded down from his thickening pecs and cobbling abs.

The drums and synthesizer came in, further enriching the already complicated chords which tickled his ear like a soft, warm breath. The bass line was an ebb and flow, weaving and bobbing as the song soared through the chorus, a melody that sent a ripple of lust across his body. It was as if he were on a ship in a storm, one which was luring him deeper into the dark waters as his thighs began to balloon out of the sweat-stained shorts he wore. The power of the music seeped into his veins, imbuing him with a foreign energy from a distant shore beyond his corporeal being. His calves spasmed and inflated, while his feet stretched out wider and stronger in his quickly ripening socks.

Black's voice was now all that Kyle could hear in his head, every indecipherable word rang as some existential truth. Kyle's thoughts were no longer his own, he was just along for the ride, a passenger in his own mind. He was no longer in control of his actions, nor his thoughts. His breathing had become heavier, slower... The music had invaded his very being and taken control. Spatterings of black ink began to sprawl across his glistening smooth skin, each with some sort of esoteric reference which he would not yet understand. Grim Reapers, skulls, geometric designs of unhuman origin now proudly displayed across his strong body.

"Fuuuck, man. This shit is amazing..." His voice gradually grew scratchy and smoky from years of singing for crowds of headbanging punks in cramped, smelly bars. He reached to his left, eyes still closed in euphoric bliss, snatching the small joint which now sat on the edge of his desk. Kicking his sweaty, buttery feet up onto the wooden surface, he brought the smoking j to his lips, dragging a heavy dose of creative vapor into his powerful lungs. "Fuckin' hell, you guys... I mean... shit." He blew out a heavy, grey plume of smoke from his wide nostrils. "This song is fuckin' incredible."

He pulled down his shorts and briefs, letting his lean but long dripping cock slap against his navel. Strings of pre seeped out of his pulsating cockhead, making winding rivers flowing down toward his sagging sac. A large prince albert ring now adorned the top of his uncut shaft, with three frenum piercings towing down his urethra in succession. The slightest touch from his calloused fingers wreaked immeasurable pleasure, radiating from the groin all across every inch of his body. Thus, as he wrapped his hand tightly around the limber shaft, gently caressing the prince albert with the tip of his index finger, he could barely breathe without a quiet moan escaping his throat. Quickly, the fondling turned into a measured, intentional pump with each beat of the music.

The drums and bass were now coming together in a thunderous crescendo, Kyle could feel his very blood bubbling beneath his skin as it made his way up his strong neck and toward his skull as he hastened his pace. The room around him began to blur and distort. Bookshelves formerly lined with music theory textbooks and repertoires of classical mainstays were warped into racks of well loved guitars: Fender, Gibson, Sqiuer, & Ibanez. The pristine white duvet-covered bed was now clad with sleek black satin sheets and a shiny vinyl comforter. The portraits of famous composers which once adorned the wall were now a collage of posters: Black Sabbath, Def Leppard, Motley Crue, Metallica, AC/DC, The Ramones, Aerosmith, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Led Zeppelin, Iron Maiden. Piles of ripped up, weathered clothes, marinating in the sweat of shows past now littered the dingy red carpet.

The blood had finally arrived at the precipice of his brain, and like a tidal wave crashing against the rocks, it overtook him. His hair darkened to a deep black, his brows furrowed, his lips now plump and curled into a permanent cocky smirk. This was his kind of music. This was his genre. This was the message he was born to bring to the masses. It was a message of rebellion, of raging against the corporate machine of whitewashed mass-marketed culture. A flash of bright red and teal illuminated the room from behind Kyle's closed eyes as rope after rope of his spunk shot from his cock onto the laptop and camera. He roared in climax, louder than he'd intended, but nothing his neighbors were unfamiliar with in regards to the activities the apartment notoriously beheld.

The music had stopped, the final note hung in the air for a moment before retreating back into the abyss as his shorts melted into a dense magenta slime, moving down his muscular legs until they covered his entire lower half before hardening into slick gator skin pleather pants and a pair of beat up black combat boots wafting the scent of his musky feet. Axel opened his now black eyes, letting out a sigh of complete satisfaction.

"Now that's what I call fuckin' music, man! See why I wanted ya to experience it? It's like a requiem for corporate machine, man. That's why Catalyst is my fuckin' muse. Their music is gonna take over the whole fuckin' world." A loud pinging signaled Axel to check his phone, where his bandmates, performing as Hammerthrow, were confirming their next gig in L.A. "Fuck yeah, guys. Just landed the Cali gig. I'm thinking we cover this masterpiece and mind fuck them into oblivion. Catch us in Azuza next week, kids. You don't wanna miss it." With that, he ended his recording, smirking mischievously as he uploaded it to his channel. The song certainly was going to change the world, even if the world itself wasn't ready.

[nocturnalnella]

Veil of Shadows. (Chapter I)

Word count : 903.

Warnings : None. (so far)

Pairing : Dracula x female reader.

Setting : Victorian London, 1889, amidst the backdrop of the Industrial Revolution and rising supernatural rumors.

Plot : You, an aspiring journalist, are investigating a series of mysterious disappearances linked to the upper echelons of society. During your research, you stumble upon an invitation to an exclusive gala hosted by the enigmatic Count Dracula, a recently arrived nobleman rumored to be both charming and dangerous.

Chapter I – Shadows of Curiosity.

The gaslights flickered in the damp London streets as you navigated the bustling crowd, your notebook clutched tightly in hand. Y/N, an aspiring journalist, had always been drawn to the stories hidden beneath the city’s surface, and the recent spate of mysterious disappearances had ignited a fierce determination within you.

You worked for a modest newspaper, yet your ambition pushed you to dig deeper. Each account of the missing—prominent figures from high society—had painted a chilling picture, and you felt compelled to uncover the truth behind their vanishing.

Whispers of a supernatural connection intertwined with the mundane, hinting at secrets lurking in the shadows of Victorian London.

As you delved into the investigation, you haunted the libraries, poring over records and old newspapers, each page revealing layers of intrigue.

The more you unearthed, the more unsettling the narrative became. It seemed the upper echelons of society were not only hiding their sins but also playing a part in the darkness that surrounded the disappearances.

Your late nights were filled with the rustle of parchment and the musty scent of forgotten stories. You had come across tales of a mysterious nobleman, Count Dracula, whose arrival in London coincided with the first disappearance. Lord Ashcombe, a well-respected member of Parliament, had vanished without a trace during a lavish soirée, his absence causing ripples of panic among the elite. Your research revealed a pattern; each missing person had been seen in the company of enigmatic figures at various high-society events. Rumours circulated that these figures were part of a secretive society rumoured to dabble in the occult, their gatherings filled with dark rituals and whispered incantations. You couldn’t shake the feeling that they were somehow connected to the Count, whose reputation was a tapestry of charm and danger a perfect enigma that both fascinated and terrified you.

One evening, as you combed through dusty tomes in a secluded corner of the library, a glimmer of gold caught your eye. A gilded invitation to an exclusive gala at the Count’s estate beckoned, promising a chance to uncover more than just rumours. Could this be the key to unlocking the mystery?

In your late-night research, you also stumbled upon a cryptic journal belonging to a long-deceased scholar. Its pages spoke of ancient curses and the allure of immortality, hinting at a dark legacy that echoed through generations. The scholar had mentioned a nobleman whose arrival would signal upheaval, drawing powerful figures into his orbit—an unnerving parallel to what was happening now. As the pieces began to fall into place, you felt a mix of exhilaration and dread. Could the Count truly be at the centre of this web of intrigue? Each clue added weight to the chilling realization that you were standing on the precipice of something far more dangerous than you had anticipated.

With a mix of excitement and trepidation, you resolved to attend, knowing that this gala could lead you closer to the answers you sought—or plunge you deeper into the darkness.

As you made your way home, the fog rolled in, shrouding the city in a thick veil. Your heartbeat quickened, not just from the chill in the air, but from the thrill of the unknown. You knew the path ahead would be treacherous, but you were not one to shy away from the shadows.

—

In the days leading up to the event, you transformed your modest lodgings into a flurry of activity. The dim light of your oil lamp illuminated the fabric swatches and fashion plates scattered across your small writing desk. You carefully selected an elegant gown from your limited wardrobe, a deep emerald silk that draped beautifully and accentuated your figure. The colour reminded you of the lush gardens that surrounded the grand estates of the wealthy—gardens where secrets might bloom as easily as roses.

As you stitched delicate lace to the sleeves, your mind wandered to the gala and the countless eyes that would be upon you. You envisioned yourself gliding through the crowd, a vision of poise and grace, but also determined to seek out the truth. You practiced your smile in the mirror, trying to exude both confidence and intrigue.

The final touch came as you adorned your hair with a simple but elegant arrangement of soft curls, pinned back with a jewelled comb that shimmered like stars. You imagined how the guests would gaze at you, intrigued by the mysterious newcomer.

You found an old leather-bound journal, its pages slightly yellowed with age. There, you began to jot down a few observations, notes on potential questions to ask and who might be worth your attention at the gala. Each word dripped with anticipation, a sense that this evening would alter the course of your investigation—and perhaps your life.

On the night of the gala, as you stood before the mirror, the reflection that stared back was not just a beautiful young lady but also a journalist a woman ready to face the darkness head-on. You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your determination. With one last glance, you stepped out into the foggy night, ready to uncover the secrets that awaited you.

With determination etched on your face, you steeled yourself for the gala, knowing that the truth awaited—no matter how perilous the journey. The night loomed ahead, promising revelations that could change everything.

[femmefatalevibe]

any tips for getting into copywriting?

Learn the basics of copywriting & writing fundamentals/ marketing skills

Study the different types of copywriting (web/banners, email, social, ads, direct mail, sales letters, etc.)

Decide on your niche(s). Study everything you can about the industry, trends, latest news, customer demographics/psychographics, customer behavior, types of lifestyles/preferences they have, how they speak, where they spend the most time (IRL or digitally)

Craft an inspiration folder full of compelling copywriting examples you find when browsing on the web, going through your email, scrolling on social media, billboards, magazines, direct mail, etc.

Practice rewriting these examples with your own flair. Evaluate it, and keep practicing until you're proud of your copy.

Be as concise, clever, and convincing as possible. Keep your tone conversational (write like how you would speak), catchy, simple, and witty. Take out any extraneous or fluff words. Pepper in cultural references, puns, and relatable anecdotes understood by your target audience when relevant to your messaging/CTA

Create a portfolio with these mock-ups or projects done for family/friends (state they're spec work, not client-commissioned samples) or clips from an internship, school work, etc.

Craft a USP for yourself (including your niche, copywriting specialties, and the specific expertise you offer within your broader niche/service offerings that makes you unique)

Create an Upwork profile and share your services on LinkedIn (optimize both of these profiles)

Research local clients and small businesses within your niche. Also, take time to create a list of dream clients. Study their copy, brand voice, and keep tabs on updates regarding these companies' happenings

Learn the art of a cold email/LinkedIn pitch/Upwork proposal. Introduce yourself and your services to your prospect and share with them how you can fulfill a specific need they're seeking out (For local and smaller companies, feel free to offer suggestions. With more established companies, connect the dots as to why your experience/expertise is a great fit for their brand/target audience), and attach your work/link to your LinkedIn profile, website, and any other relevant hub for your professional services & content

Ask for referrals from friends/family to get started. If they're not a relative, get a testimonial to include in your portfolio

Follow up once if you haven't heard back from a prospective client after an initial pitch after a few days

Search for potential gigs on sites like Upwork/ProBlogger/People Per Hour

Once you land a gig, execute to the best of your ability and hand in your work by the deadline (strategies surrounding best business practices is a whole other post, lol)

Gather testimonials from all clients of successful projects. Confirm with clients whether you can use their work in your portfolio if you're unsure

Continue studying copywriting from books, courses, and everyday reading & living

Stay knowledgeable about advancements/updates in your field, keep updated on current events, and culture/social trends, and read a lot in general. Have interesting, multi-faceted conversations with others. Observe what makes people tick & remain engaged in a verbal dialogue or content

[beespaceprogram]

Sticker Cutter Research

I was looking into getting a sticker cutting machine, and I decided to start by looking into cricut which is a well known brand. I had a look at what models they had than their feature etc, but what I was most concerned about was their software. Printer companies like to lock you into a defacto subscription to support hardware you don't really own, and as I was to discover, cricut are operating in a similar way.

The cricut software is online-only*. To cut your own designs you need to use their software to upload your art to their server. There's no way to cut a new design without a logged-in cricut account and an internet connection. At one point in 2021 they flirted with limiting free accounts to 20 uploads/month but backed down after huge community backlash, as far as I can tell.

The incident spawned several community efforts to write open-source firmware for cricut hardware. Some efforts were successful for specific models/serial numbers, but require cracking open the case and hooking in to the debug contacts to flash the chip; not exactly widely accessible. Another project sought to create a python cricut server you can run locally, and then divert the app's calls to the server to your local one.

I restarted my search, this time beginning with looking for extant open-source software for driving cutters, and found this project, which looks a little awkward to use, but functional. They list a bunch of cutter hardwares and whether they're compatible or not. Of those, I recognised the sihouette brand name from other artists talking about them.

I downloaded the silhouette software to try like I did w the cricut software, and immediately it was notable that it didn't try to connect to the internet at all. It's a bit clunky, in that way printer and scanner software tends to be, but I honestly greatly preferred using it to cricut's sluggish electron app⁺. Their software has a few paid tiers above the free one, adding stuff like sgv import/export/and reading cut settings from a barcode on the input material. They're one-off payments, and seem reasonable to me.

This is not so much a review, as sharing some of the research I've done. I haven't yet used either a cricut or a silhouette, and I haven't researched other brands either. But I wanted to talk about this research because to me, cricut's aggressively online nature is a red flag. Software that must connect to a server to run is software that runs only at the whim of the server owner (and only as long as it's profitable to keep the server up). And if that software is the only thing that will make your several hundred dollars worth of plastic and (cheap, according to a teardown I read) servos run, then you have no guarantee you'll be able to run it in the future.

Do you use a desktop cnc cutter? What has your experience been like with the hardware and software? Do you have any experience from home printers with good print quality and user-refillable ink cartridges?

* Cricut's app tried to connect to more than 14 different addresses, including facebook, youtube, google analytics, datadoghq.com, and launchdarkly.com. Launch Darkly are a service provider that help software companies do a whole bunch of things I'm coming to despise, for example, they offer infrastructure for serving different features to different demographics and comparing results to control groups. You know how at various times you've gotten wildly different numbers of ads than your friends on instagram? They were using techniques like this to work out how many ads they could show without affecting their pickup/engagement rates. Scummy stuff.

⁺ Electron apps are web-pages pretending to be applications. They use heaps of ram, tend to have very poor performance, and encourage frustrating UI design that doesn't follow OS conventions. Discord's app is a notable example of an Electron app

[jointhefediverse]

💫 Join the Fediverse! 💫

Greetings, fellow bloggers! We welcome you to join us in discovering, honoring, and promoting the potential future of social networking—commonly referred to as the "Fediverse."

The Fediverse, or Federation Universe, refers to a collective of online platforms that utilize the web protocol known as ActivityPub, which has set a standard of excellence in regards to both protecting and respecting users' online privacies.

There's a good chance in the past few years that you've caught wind of the fedi family's critically acclaimed Mastodon; however, there are many other unique platforms worth your consideration...

✨ Where To Begin?

Conveniently enough, from the minds of brilliant independent developers, there already likely exists a Fediverse equivalent to your favorite socials. Whether it's an opinion from the critics, or from the community alike—the following popular websites are commonly associated with one another:

Friendica 🐰 = Facebook Mastodon 🐘 = Twitter Pixelfed 🐼 = Instagram PeerTube 🐙 = YouTube Lemmy 🐭 = Reddit

It's worth mentioning, too, a few other sites and forks thereof that are worthy counterparts, which be: Pleroma 🦊 & Misskey 🐱, microblogs also similar to Twitter/Mastodon. Funkwhale 🐋 is a self-hosting audio streamer, which pays homage to the once-popular GrooveShark. For power users, Hubzilla 🐨 makes a great choice (alongside Friendica) when choosing macroblogging alternatives.

✨ To Be Clear...

To address the technicalities: aside from the "definitive" Fediverse clients, we will also be incorporating any platforms that utilize ActivityPub-adjacent protocols as well. These include, but are not limited to: diaspora*; AT Protocol (Bluesky 🦋); Nostr; OStatus; Matrix; Zot; etc. We will NOT be incorporating any decentralized sites that are either questionably or proven to be unethical. (AKA: Gab has been exiled.)

✨ Why Your Privacy Matters

You may ask yourself, as we once did, "Why does protecting my online privacy truly matter?" While it may seem innocent enough on the surface, would it change your mind that it's been officially shared by former corporate media employees that data is more valuable than money to these companies? Outside of the ethical concerns surrounding these concepts, there are many other reasons why protecting your data is critical, be it: security breaches which jeopardize your financial info and risk identity theft; continuing to feed algorithms which use psychological manipulation in attempts to sell you products; the risk of spyware hacking your webcams and microphones when you least expect it; amongst countless other possibilities that can and do happen to individuals on a constant basis. We wish it could all just be written off as a conspiracy... but, with a little research, you'll swiftly realize the validity of these claims are not to be ignored any longer. The solution? Taking the decentralized route.

✨ Our Mission For This Blog

Our mission for establishing this blog includes 3 core elements:

To serve as a hub which anybody can access in order to assist themselves in either: becoming a part of the Fediverse, gaining the resources/knowledge to convince others to do the very same, and providing updates on anything Fedi-related.

We are determined to do anything within our power to prevent what the future of the Internet could become if active social users continue tossing away their data, all while technologies are advancing at faster rates with each passing year. Basically we'd prefer not to live in a cyber-Dystopia at all costs.

Tumblr (Automattic) has expressed interest in switching their servers over to ActivityPub after Musk's acquisition of then-Twitter, and are officially in the transitional process of making this happen for all of us. We're hoping our collective efforts may at some point be recognized by @staff, which in turn will encourage their efforts and stand by their decision.

With that being stated, we hope you decide to follow us here, and decide to make the shift—as it is merely the beginning. We encourage you to send us any questions you may have, any personal suggestions, or corrections on any misinformation you may come across.

From the Tender Hearts of, ✨💞 @disease & @faggotfungus 💞✨

[merakiui]

Is it ok for some Goldfish mer Riddle though?

It is more than okay!

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, captivity, codependency, mentions of breeding)

Riddle is actually quite well-behaved for a mer in captivity. Unlike the eel twins or the octopus, he’s much more accepting of humans and their interest in him. He tends to show off sometimes, especially if there’s a specific person he wishes to impress and receive praise from. He’s very intelligent and has even managed to pick up a few words and phrases he’s heard during his time in captivity. And he is very particular about his routines! He has each of his days memorized and by some miracle, despite never seeing the clock, he always knows when to wait at the surface for the researchers so they may run their usual examination of him. He seems to get huffy if they’re late, even if by a few minutes.

Though he’s obedient and follows everything the researchers want him to do when signaled, he seems quite lonesome in captivity. On days when he isn’t being seen by anyone, he’ll swim close to the glass, peering out at the lab equipment that waits behind the confines or he’ll swim in circles with a very thoughtful expression on his face. It always looks like he’s thinking through something, and he loves to observe the space that remains outside of his tank.

It isn’t a surprise when you’re assigned to study more of his behavior while also keeping his mood uplifted. You’re known to excel at caring for merfolk, hence why you’re usually assigned troublesome, fussy mers because your colleagues think you’re some sort of “mer whisperer.” Truthfully, you’re just genuine and you know how to connect through patience. On Sundays, Mondays, and Tuesdays you’ll meet with the octopus to keep him company and study him (though he rarely comes to the surface, which means you usually don diving gear and sink to the bottom. He’s grown accustomed to your visits now and doesn’t seem averse to you anymore, in fact even peering out of his octopus pot in anticipation when he knows of the times you usually arrive). On Wednesdays and Thursdays, you meet with the twins to keep them company. Though since they have each other, they’re a lot less dejected about captivity. They make for very mischievous playmates. You love studying their behaviors and how they interact with each other, with you, and with other researchers.

Now that your Fridays and Saturdays have been dedicated to seeing Riddle, you’ve decided to take a different approach. With the octopus and twins, there’s a certain level of caution you exercise due to their sizes and the fact that they are still known as predators from the deep sea. But with Riddle, who is much smaller and was found in a warmer, brighter freshwater habitat, he’s considerably more docile and social. He doesn’t exactly warm up to you at first, as your appearance disturbs his routine—his carefully crafted schedules that are so very important to him. He acts as if that breaks some horrible rule when you first arrive and introduce yourself, looking so horrified and confused that his expression shifts through various feelings all at once. But when you make it clear that you’re to be a recurring figure in his schedules, he relaxes and offers his webbed hand in greeting, mirroring the handshakes he’s watched the researchers do.

Riddle is very charming. He learns very quickly throughout the time he spends with you and the time spent observing other humans. He’s trying to teach himself more words so that he can converse with you, which has led him to insist upon communicating verbally rather than through actions or gestures so that he can better understand. Much like the octopus, he grows attached rather quickly and seems to be very receptive to praise of any kind, whether it be a reward or a proud gesture.

Riddle feels like his meetings with you take far too long to arrive and they always feel so fleeting. How time can pass so quickly when he’s with you but draw out forever while he’s waiting to see you is simply unfair. He tries to keep you longer, obviously desperate to remain in your company, but you can never stay for too long. Sometimes you’ll go over the allotted time and Riddle’s so very pleased when you say you’ll stay for a while longer. He does everything you ask of him, and he never causes any troubles. He doesn’t try to escape from his enclosure, he doesn’t splash any of the researchers (unless agitated), and he’s always been so cooperative. He’s a perfect, model mer! Surely you’ll continue to stay if he continues to follow the rules.

Even though he does very well on his own, he depends on you a lot. At first it was for learning purposes. He’d request materials to look at, such as textbooks, picture books, or certain objects he’d either heard of or seen while in captivity, and you would always be sure to bring them. And while he still relies on you for that, he also relies on you for company and affection and connection. He spirals into codependency so quickly that it takes you by surprise. Riddle has never gotten violent or temperamental with you or any of the researchers, but when you attempt to leave him one day and he grabs your wrist so tightly and yanks you into the enclosure with so much desperation it makes you realize he’s starting to pick up unhealthy mannerisms. The octopus and the twins have been like this before. Once, he trapped you in his octopus pot, folding himself around you to keep you there with him even though your oxygen tank’s supply was dwindling. And the twins had trapped you in an endless game of chase when they’d pulled you in and wouldn’t let you climb back out, insisting on playing with you until you could no longer keep yourself afloat due to sheer exhaustion. Perhaps you’ve kept your guard lowered around Riddle solely because he never posed any threat to you.

And he still doesn’t. In fact, when he has you in the water with him he doesn’t seem to know what to do. He looks absolutely saddened and scared and confused all at the same time, and he’s holding your arms so gently as he peers at you. But he seems to realize something and he’s quick to bring you back to the surface, pushing you towards the ledge so that you may climb out. He looks conflicted when you do this, his hand outstretched as if he expects you to grab it. Instead, you gently touch his palm and promise that you’ll be back next week. Poor Riddle is so ashamed with himself because he’s broken a rule, but he couldn’t help it. He wants you to stay so much. He misses you immensely in the days leading up to your scheduled arrival and almost doesn’t have the motivation to follow his other routines. But he focuses on those so that he won’t have to think of how lonely he is without you, as the familiarity and logical nature of a routine makes for a good distraction.

Riddle would never hurt you. He cares too much for you, almost to an obsessive degree. When you visit him next and your hand is wrapped in bandages and you offhandedly, casually mention one of the twins got you he frets over the injured area with a displeased frown and a dark look. He cradles your hand in his webbed ones, pressing it against his cheek and just holding it there. It’s a very endearing gesture. You wonder where he’s learned that.

For a while, you never had any problems with Riddle, aside from his usual desperation to get you to stay. No matter how hard he tries to keep you, he always lets you go. It seems he can’t bring himself to break the unspoken rules that have been put in place ever since you met him. Although things are a little different when breeding season is upon him. All merfolk act differently during this time; it’s an important moment in their lives. You’ve always avoided the octopus and twins when they were going through their cycles. The researchers would usually provide them with something to use to make up for the lack of a mate: an inflatable or molded silicone that was safe for them to use. It was too risky and dangerous to study them up close when they were so hyper-focused on breeding, and any cameras that may have been installed in advance for that purpose had been found and destroyed by both the octopus and the twins.

But Riddle is not as destructive or volatile as they usually are. In fact, as unfocused as he is, he’s actually more restless than violent or protective. He presses himself against the glass in hopes of seeing you, staying there for hours on end with his pupils blown wide. He remains perfectly still and even curls up at the very bottom to watch through the shadows. He never does anything to resolve the heat that overwhelms him, and if he does no one sees it. He becomes very private and subdued the deeper into his cycle he gets. You don’t visit him because, as kind and gentle as he is, he’s still a creature so uniquely different from humans, and all merfolk usually act rashly when in the throes of their natural biology.

Though if you had, he would have still treated you how he usually does. Riddle thinks of you and it helps get him through the unbearable. He wishes you’d visit. He wishes you were here with him. He wishes he could press himself against you and feel your delightfully human warmth. He wishes he could see you every day of the week, listen to your voice, touch your hands…

He resolves to have you during his next cycle, even if he has to break a few rules to achieve that.

[allwaswell16]

Hi Anitra! I was wondering if you had any favourite omega!louis fics?

Ohhhh I have so many...I'll try to narrow it down to five for you...

where the lights are beautiful by twoshipsdrifting / @polkadotlou

Harry wasn’t wrong about that, not in a general sense. Lots of omegas did seek out rich alphas and betas, hoping or planning to go into heat at the right time. Plenty of omegas saw this as their duty, especially if their families weren’t well off. Worse, Louis couldn’t honestly say he’d never thought about it. If that had been his life, his goal, Louis would feel pretty good about himself now. As it is…Louis feels like shit.

Or the accidental bonding a/b/o fic.

Moon Dances Over by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

Louis knows that his tail is, frankly, stunning. His iridescent blue scales shimmer in even the slightest sunlight, and his fins have grown since he presented, delicate and almost transparent in their webbing.

He also knows that that means he’ll be one of the first to pick tonight, as the most beautiful omegas are blessed to pick their mates first. It’s considered a huge honour, since the guppies they’ll eventually birth will certainly be beautiful as well, bringing favour on the whole clan.

Louis has a stubborn streak, though. He’s always been rather a fan of mating for love, and there’s someone he’s had his eye on for a long time now.

Saving Symphony Hall by @helloamhere

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

And That’s The Tea by @2tiedships2

I’d like an Earl Grey with milk and sugar, please.

Louis had the phrase memorized, even though it had disappeared off its place on his upper arm over thirteen years ago now.

At fourteen he didn’t understand. Soulmarks don’t just disappear. Not unless…

Unless one of them dies.

Or, the one where Louis loses his soulmate before even getting the chance to meet them, and he is in no way prepared for the kind of distraction his new friend Harry proves to be.

Cameras Flashing by @juliusschmidt

With his breakout single platinum three times over and his second album still selling out in stores around the world, Louis Tomlinson has made it to the top. However, his position as Pop Heartthrob of the Decade is threatened by the edgier, more artistic Zayn, who happens to be releasing an album a week after Louis’ upcoming third. Louis needs something groundbreaking- scandalous, even- to push past him in the charts. Much to Louis’ dismay, his PR team calls in The Sexpert.

Consulting with PR firm Shady, Lane and Associates pays the bills so that Harry Styles can spend his down time doing what he really loves: poring over data. On weekends and late into the evenings, he researches gender, presentation, and sexual orientation, analysing the longitudinal study that is his father’s life’s work. That is, until his newest client, the popstar with the fascinating secret, drags him off his couch and frighteningly close to the spotlight.

As the album’s release date approaches, will Tomlinson and Styles be able to pull off the most risky PR scheme of the millennium and beat Zayn in sales or will the heat of their feelings for each other compromise everything?

Bonus: My favorite omega Louis I wrote lol

If I Loved You Less by allwaswell16

Beautiful omega Louis Tomlinson is set to make his come out in London society and determined to find a mate in his first Season. With the help and protection of his oldest friend, Lord Niall Mendes, he takes Society by storm.

Being a wealthy and titled alpha means Lord Harry Styles has grown used to avoiding unmated omegas...until now. This Season he finds himself at every Society event just for a chance to speak with the omega with the flashing blue eyes.

Louis has the aristocracy at his feet and all the suitors he could hope for, but his secrets may ruin his chance at a love match.

[izicodes]

Switching to Firefox

This post is to answer @leaveblackkbrosalone’s question on my post about me switching to Firefox!

I recently had an eye opener moment when researching about Google and how they collect data to alter the things they recommend you and other things. And it was astonishing how much data they collect on you and how they track you every movement whilst on Google/Chrome/Other Google services e.g. Google PlayStore.

I truly believe there are better alternatives out there than the default Google Chrome people tend to use. We now live in world of constant data breaches and online tracking, therefore protecting your online privacy and security has never been more important.

I’ve recently deleted Chrome from my phone and computer and switched to FireFox and I’ll explain why~!

What is Firefox?

Firefox is the famous fox web browser! It is a free and open-source that is developed by the Mozilla Foundation. It's designed to be fast, secure, and customizable, and is available for multiple operating systems, including Windows, Mac, and Linux.

Firefox includes a suite of built-in features, such as enhanced tracking protection, custom themes (so important obviously) and add-ons, and a flexible interface that can be tailored to the user's needs.

Why Firefox and not Google Chrome?

There are a bunch of reasons why I chose to delete Google Chrome and why I prefer FireFox now, let me list some:

Privacy

Firefox has a strong focus on privacy and security, with features like built-in tracking protection and a strict anti-tracking policy.

In contrast, Chrome is owned by Google, a company that relies heavily on data collection and advertising for its business model.

Customisation

Firefox has a much more flexible and customizable interface than Chrome, with a wide range of add-ons (equivalent to Chrome’s ‘extensions’ I believe) and themes available to personalize your browsing experience.

Open-source

Firefox is an open-source project, meaning that anyone can contribute to its development and review the code for security issues.

Chrome, on the other hand, is based on the Chromium project, which is also open-source but is controlled by Google.

Cross-platform compatibility

Firefox works on a wide range of devices and operating systems, including Windows, Mac, Linux, and mobile devices.

Chrome is also available on multiple platforms, but it's more heavily integrated with Google's services and ecosystem.

Performance

Firefox has made significant improvements in recent years and is now a competitive browser in terms of speed and efficiency.

Still, Chrome is known for its fast performance

Community-driven

Firefox is developed by the non-profit Mozilla Foundation, which has a strong focus on user empowerment and community involvement. This means that Firefox users have a voice in the development process and can contribute to the browser's future direction.

With all of that being said, there is one particular area that caught my eye that I mentioned briefly: the Privacy and Security.

Firefox’s Privacy and Security Advantages

Firefox definitely has advantages in these areas than Google Chrome surprisingly!

Enhanced Tracking Protection

Firefox includes built-in tracking protection that blocks many common types of trackers by default, including

third-party cookies, cryptominers, and fingerprinters

This helps to protect your online privacy and reduce the amount of data that's collected about you. Below are the options for the 'Enhance Tracking Protection' in the settings:

No Google Tracking

Oh boy, I like this one. So unlike Chrome, which is owned by Google and ties into its advertising and data collection ecosystem, Firefox is developed by the non-profit Mozilla Foundation and has no affiliation with Google or any other major tech company. This means that Firefox is less likely to collect and share your data with third parties.

No Sign-In Required

While Chrome requires you to sign in with a Google account to access certain features, Firefox does not require any sign-in at all. This means that you can still use Firefox without creating a user profile or linking your browsing activity to any personal information -

Don’t get me wrong, if you want to use the Google search engine WITHIN FireFox, it might still prompt you to sign in but you still don’t have to! Also, the choice is there to create an account just to sync bookmarks and tab from one device to another e.g. phone to laptop.

Private Browsing Mode

(Another very important part!) Firefox offers a Private Browsing mode that doesn't save your browsing history, cookies, or temporary files. This can be useful for browsing sensitive content or preventing others from seeing what you've been looking at.

Firefox's Private Browsing mode offers a more robust set of features for privacy and security than Google’s Incognito mode. Within the ‘Settings’, you can customise your privacy settings more extensively than Google Chrome. You can choose to block all third-party cookies, prevent websites from accessing your location data, and clear your browsing history and data automatically when you close the browser.

Google's Incognito mode does not block all cookies or prevent all forms of tracking.

Open-Source Security

Like I mentioned before, Firefox is an open-source project, meaning that anyone can review the code and contribute to its development. This helps to ensure that security vulnerabilities are identified and addressed quickly, and that the browser remains as secure as possible. You too can find something and report it to the repository via creating an issue!

To Conclude

Of course, these are just some general reasons why you might prefer Firefox over Chrome, and the choice ultimately comes down to personal preference and priorities. I know with developers, they would prefer Chrome for the dev tools and I think it’s almost a standard to use Chrome (though at my workplace we use Microsoft Edge), anyhoo Google is just a default for web browsing and search engine. I also know it’s hard if you have a whole Google ecosystem set up like Google docs to Sheet to Slides, emails, calendar etc, you can still use them but on a safer browser.

I would also recommend using ‘DuckDuckGo’ for a search engine as they too are really good with security and privacy but as a search engine (plus on their phone app they have a cool animation when you want to delete you browsing data from the tabs hehe)!

Links to interesting pages for more information on this topic:

YouTube videos: video 1 | video 2 | video 3 | video 4

Articles: article 1 | article 2 | article 3

I’d say give it a go, if you don’t like it I still recommend anything but Google Chrome! Well, that’s all and thank you for reading! 🥰👍🏾💗

[morporkian-cryptid]

I’ve finally been able to watch the Lupin III kabuki play, so y’all get a second round of me nerding out, lucky you! (You can go watch it right now, it only costs $30 and you can see it however many times you want until August 18th!)

For context: in December of last year, the Kabuki-za theater in Tokyo put on a kabuki adaptation of Lupin the Third.

Following the success of the kabuki play, the company decided to live-stream it in several countries, and make the recording available on-demand for one week.

So yesterday I finally watched the play myself, already having a general idea of the plot and knowing what to expect. Which did nothing to prevent me from going full fangirl on the phone with my sister (who was watching it with me). I have a special interest on Lupin III, and a special interest on premodern Japan and traditional Japanese arts (which is entirely Goemon’s fault btw); what was I supposed to do? Not spend 3 hours losing my entire shit and stimming hard enough for my hands to fall off? Unrealistic tbh.

As a general note, I could not possibly be more impressed at this adaptation.

You have to understand that kabuki is, historically, a popular form of theater, created by and for the masses. It evolved from travelling performers and prostitutes’ dances, was developed in the red light districts, and was attended by poor people, merchants and samurais alike. It has always been bold, colourful, bombastic, dramatic as hell, with as much focus on situational humour and on epic fights and dramatic tales.

And that makes it a perfect media to adapt Lupin the Third into. The unserious, self-derisive tone of Lupin III fits great into kabuki humour, the over-the-top expressions and cartoonish disregard for the laws of physics translate perfectly in choreographed dance-fights, dramatic poses and exaggerated grimaces, the mix of what-the-fuck-esque “are the writers on crack” plots and of genuine emotional scenes and high-stakes fights is shared by many many well-loved historical kabuki plays. The core elements of a Traditional Lupin Plot don’t get in the way of the kabuki art form, and the traditional kabuki conventions don’t limit the very unique identity of Lupin III as a franchise.  

With what little I know about kabuki as an art form (I had watched two plays and done a bit of research before this), it is obvious that a lot of work went into fitting Lupin III into the clear codes of a traditional theater form, and with everything I know about the anime, all the characters are their same old selves, banter and mannerisms and all, and the plot wouldn’t feel out of place in a TV special. The creation of this play clearly had to involve both kabuki experts and writers who love Lupin III, it is obvious from start to finish how much importance was given to both of these facets, and I am genuinely amazed at how well these two groups worked together to make everything work so perfectly. It’s almost as if Lupin III as a franchise was made to be adapted into kabuki. And I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that MP-sensei had used kabuki as an inspiration.

THIS CONTAINS (minor) SPOILERS! Read at your own risks ^^ If you’ve already seen the play, I give cultural and historical background for some scenes.

If you are familiar with Goemon Ishikawa’s background as a character, you’ve probably heard of the kabuki play about his illustrious ancestor, Sanmon Gosan No Kiri . A very famous scene from that play, the Nanzenji Sanmon (Nanzen Temple Gate) scene, is reenacted in the Lupin III play: Goemon appears at the balcony of the temple gate, reciting the famous line from Sanmon Gosan no Kiri. (I have been to that exact temple when I visited Kyoto, climbed up to the balcony on that exact gate, and recited that exact line. I then proceeded to spend half an hour trying to locate the temple graveyard where Goemon Ishikawa is buried. I found it and it was closed.)

I had been warned by Aime who had seen the play live, but I was still entirely unprepared for the fact that THE FUCKING TEMPLE GATE ROSE OUT OF THE STAGE TO REVEAL LUPIN STANDING UNDER IT. Practical special effects in kabuki are absolutely incredible and super creative, and most of them have existed since the Edo era.

Speaking of special effects, there are several revolving stages (the light play in the revolving stages!!! Holy shit!!!!), people coming out of the ground, and Lupin fucking flies off into the ceiling at some point.

In this play, Lupin and Jigen are just starting out as thieves, whereas Goemon is already well known as the greatest thief of his generation. Hence why, for a change, this time it’s Lupin who is constantly trying to find excuses to throw hands with Goemon, as opposed to how it usually goes in the anime.

Lupin’s expressions are PURE GOLD. Kataoka Ainosuke is a fucking genius actor who perfectly nailed Lupin’s “insufferable cartoon monkey” vibe. EVEN HIS VOICE IS PERFECT!!!!!! The video allows for close-ups on his expressions that the live play did not, so I’m lucky to have been able to watch this version.

Speaking of expressions, I must make a small aside to explain that dramatic facial expressions, bombastic poses and colorful costumes are a staple of kabuki (in the same way that subtle shifts of light on masks to represent different emotions are a staple of No theatre). That is the reason Jigen doesn’t wear his signature hat in the play: hiding his face would defeat the entire purpose of a kabuki adaptation and spoil the actor’s performance. I think the costume designers found a very elegant work-around by giving him bangs that almost look like the brim of a hat. (He also carries a straw hat in his hand in the first scene, and occasionally holds it up above his head)

I already made a whole post to nerd out about the incredible costume designs and how they managed to translate the anime designs and Western style of clothing of the characters into traditional Japanese stage costumes, so I won’t do it here again, but HOLY SHIT those costumes are incredibly well thought out, with such a deep attention to detail, and Lupin’s especially blew my mind. 11/10.

Lupin and Goemon started threatening to throw hands, upon which Fujiko appeared, said something along the lines of “I am a beautiful woman, please stop fighting, for my sake”, after which Lupin and Goemon agreed to put off their fight and go their separate way. Several scenes later, Lupin and Goemon finally have their showdown (which I will detail later); it is eventually interrupted by Jigen… who repeats Fujiko’s word’s verbatim, “Please stop fighting, for my sake”, to which Lupin and Goemon reply, I shit you not, “Yes Jigen, we will stop, for you.” I had to take a minute to yell into a pillow about the parallels between Lupin/Fujiko and Lupin/Jigen.

Also, WE’VE GOT ANOTHER FRIGGIN JIGEN EX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I think?? unclear. The dude's like, 60 years old.

The showdown!!! The showdown at the waterfall!!!!! First off, the fact that there is an Actual Honest To God Fountain On Stage is still blowing my fucking mind. This is apparently something that has existed in kabuki SINCE THE EDO ERA. Western theater could never. Second of all, not only is there an actual fucking waterfall onstage, the actors GO INTO IT. LUPIN AND GOEMON FOUGHT IN THE WATER. ENDED UP DRENCHED TO THE BONES. ONSTAGE.

The duel scene was prefaced by a shamisen player and a singer reciting a poetic description of the upcoming fight (featuring dragons and cherry blossoms), explaining how epic it was and how the swords clashed etc etc. Then the curtain opens and you get Lupin and Goemon who, yes, have a very dramatic sword fight (like I said, kabuki and bombastic poses and dramatic faces. INCREDIBLE.); they eventually both lose their weapons and devolve into a fist fight, until they finally end up in the waterfall and start splashing water at each other. I love these absolute idiots so much.

After a few minutes, the fight is interrupted by Jigen, and you can just feel the bone-deep tired babysitter energy emanating from him, you can hear how loud he’s thinking “alright boys you’ve had your fun, time to go back to being mature adults, can we go steal things now?”

Also, the fight scenes. Let’s talk about the fight scenes. Kabuki is a type of theater that emerged from dance, and the fight scenes really reflect that – the characters mostly don’t touch, instead they leap around the stage and gesture at each other, but even the stylized movements really translate well what’s happening. THERE WERE CHARACTERS DOING BACKFLIPS ONSTAGE!!! REPEATEDLY!!! Meanwhile Lupin’s just vaguely dodging blows and gesturing away at his opponents. The backflips are incredibly impressive, and also you really get the sense that the Random Antagonists are giving their all in this fight and have to call on all their fighting abilities to take on Lupin, while Lupin simply Does Not Give A Shit and just dodges every blow effortlessly. (picture his no-handed fight with the kidnapper in Part 6 – The Last Bullet and you’ll have a good vision of what I’m talking about.)

Lupin and Jigen STEAL GOEMON. I mean this entirely literally. They drug him, shove him in a box, and make off with the box. With Goemon inside. THEY STOLE A WHOLE-ASS SAMURAI. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!!!!

MAMO

GREEN RAISIN MAN IS HERE

NO ONE TOLD ME GREEN RAISIN MAN WOULD BE HERE

HE BREAKS THE FOURTH WALL TO EXPLAIN KABUKI CONVENTIONS TO THE AUDIENCE DURING INTERMISSION

M A M O

Also fourth wall breaking happens on occasions, Lupin tells Jigen he’ll take him to see a kabuki play (which happens to be the other play scheduled at that theater), and Jigen says his favourite kabuki actor is Kataoka Ainosuke, to which Lupin (played by Kataoka Ainosuke) replies “oh I hate him.”

(btw this is somewhat historically accurate. Kabuki was invented in the Edo era, so after the time period this play takes place in; anachronism aside, kabuki actors were the tabloid celebrities of their time, trend setters that people tried to emulate, and the subjects of woodblock prints that fans would collect and trade. So Lupin and Jigen discussing their favourite kabuki actors is entirely believable.)

ALL THE MUSIC THEMES PLAYED ON TRADITIONAL INSTRUMENTS. POLICE CHASE SCENE PLAYED TO THE SOUND OF ZENIGATA MARCH ON THE SHAMISEN. LOVE SQUALL ON THE SHAKUHACHI. I NEED THE OST OF THIS PLAY GIVE IT TO ME

There were people in the audience doing Shouts From The Great Beyond!!

Oh and there are aliens. And robots. And alien robots. I realize I forgot to mention this. The play takes place in the 1600s and Goemon’s girlfriend is an alien robot. I could not make this up if I tried. I love this stupid franchise so fucking much ❤

Zenigata throws a giant coin directly at Lupin’s face

Lupin Zenigata impersonation

Both Jigen and Goemon get tied up and I tried very hard not to find this hot (I failed)

Oh and at one point Goemon ends up in a fundoshi and nothing else. With his butt on full display. Onstage. No matter if it’s an anime or a theater play, Goemon-chan always ends up being Mr Fanservice XD

“My girlfriend turned into a sword.” “That’s rough, buddy.”

Fujiko mentioned stealing the Kusanagi (legendary sword from the god Susanoo and one of the three imperial regalia of Japan), and Goemon immediately went “I NEED IT” and fucking legged it, not waiting for the others. Upon which Lupin remarked “Wow, that guy really likes swords.” I fucking love this gigantic nerd. Goemon my beloved <3

There’s one scene where Lupin and Jigen run into Fujiko as she’s participating in an oiran procession through the red light district, Lupin recognizes her and immediately goes “Heeeyyyyyy Fujiko-chaaaaan!!!!! 😃” and you can just see on Fujiko’s face the words “Oh gods no NOT HIM AGAIN” writing themselves in big bold golden letters while she attempts to keep a straight face. Absolutely amazing XD

Goemon and Itohoshi. I am so soft for them. Dear lord they are adorable and they did not deserve all that shit. Please just let them be happy TT (“Gomen” WHAT DO YOU MEAN “GOMEN” JUST STAB ME WITH A SWORD IT WOULD BE LESS PAINFUL)

I don’t know how to explain how cool and funny Zenigata gets, he has his awesome badass moments, and he also gets played like a fiddle by Lupin, and from the way he is played you get the whole “this guy is a bumbling idiot (affectionate)” vibe but also he gets scarily competent at times. And you can see his underwear like half of the time.

Goemon has a resting bitch face the whole way through. AS HE SHOULD

The scene at the end, where all five main characters appear in front of the sea with blue kimonos and paper umbrellas, and introduce themselves, will be recognized by all long-time Lupin fans as a reference to the Red Jacket double episode “Kooki Kabuki” (aka The Mysterious Gang of Five). As it turns out, that scene and in fact the whole double episode was a reference to a kabuki play called “Shiranami Gonin Otoko” (Five Men of the White Waves). According to Wikipedia, “The play is perhaps most famous for the speeches made by Kozō and his compatriots when they dramatically remove their disguises and reveal their true identities.” (I’ve never watched that play, but a recording is available on the same website as the Lupin III kabuki play, so I might watch it soon.)

Please look at the designs on their kimonos on that scene. They’re so cool!!!! Lupin has a rose, a European flower that also features on his rapier (he is the only character to have a European sword rather than a katana). Fujiko has wisteria, which is called fuji in Japanese. Jigen has a kiseru pipe with plumes of smoke and a crescent moon. Goemon has a dragon because he is a Mighty Warrior. And Zenigata has zeni coins and HANDCUFFS ON A STRING!!!! THE AMOUNT OF ATTENTION TO DETAILS IN THE FUCKING COSTUME DESIGNS!!!!!!!!

To my (mild) disappointment, in this version of the scene, Jigen doesn’t describe himself as “onnagirai” like he did in the anime. For those who haven’t seen that Twitter thread floating around on Tumblr, “onnagirai” or “woman hater” is (allegedly) an old Edo-era slang term associated to kabuki and used to designate homosexual men. Yes, Jigen actually called himself “onnagirai”, out-loud, on screen, in a recreation of a kabuki scene, in 1977. (I couldn’t find any reliable source explaining the link between “onnagirai” and homosexuality in five minutes of googling, so take it with a grain of salt, but at least Wikipedia mentions the term and sources it from a 1997 book on homosexuality under the Tokugawa regime.)

All in all an incredible experience, 100/10 would tie up the whole fandom and sit them in front of the screen to watch this play whether they want it or not. Huge huge huge kudos and my eternal thanks to all the people who worked on making this adaptation come to life, they did an incredible job and it is clear from start to finish that this was made by people who love kabuki and who love Lupin the Third.

[cuppajj]

Mmmmmm spider oc :)c

Her name is Winona Walters, or Winnie Walters, and she’s known as Spidergirl/Spider-Tox! Her earth (Earth-198392) was rendered uninhabitable on the surface following a nuclear war, forcing all of the humans to live in underground societies while the fauna and flora on the surface were mutated into beasts and other things. Those underground societies became utopias, and where Winnie lives, Utopia York, is the center of the bustling new society. Her mother was a researcher for not alchemax, but another company that studied the radioactive creatures on the surface.

One day, on bring-your-daughter-to-work day, Winnie’s mother had brought (8yo) her into the office when it was attacked by a radioactive spider monster that had found its way from the surface. Her mom didn’t survive but Winnie did, hospitalized with a vicious bite on the back of her neck. Winnie’s powers didn’t come instantly, she was bitten when she was very young but her powers started showing as a teen (like how symptoms of radiation sometimes don’t show up for a while), but it came with nasty side effects (of which im still working on)

So she has the typical web slinging stuff, but she also has the power to melt anything she touches. She learns that the hard way and has to wear special gloves, and also she can glow in the dark like radium (it’s kinda useless but it’s cool aesthetically). Winnie goes around fighting crime and saving Utopia York from mutant surface creatures and those who want to exploit destructive materials left over from the ancient war that destroyed the surface!