#yes technically we did start the fire

[mfshipbracket]

the reylo v British monarchy post got blazed. I just saw and thought u should know

of all our polls to possibly blaze, they really picked the one that's an active hatecrime to everyone involved

[reidmania]

a moment | s. reid

summary: two times there was a ‘moment’ between you and spencer, and one time he did something about it.

warnings; best friends to lovers, fem reader, pinning, this based off a lorelai and luke edit i saw, idk if its edited or makes any sense tbh!! sorry! longing, kinda self doubt idk, happy ending yay!!

an; this is for lia. And was written in like an hour so i really dont want the hate guys. If it sucks i cannot be held responsible.

You walk into the bullpen, scanning the usual chaos of the bullpen The day’s already running long, and it’s barely even noon.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Spencer says, glancing up from his desk. His eyes are sharp behind his glasses, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. He’s half-hidden behind a wall of case files, as always, but somehow manages to throw his snark with precision.

you and spencer had been best friends since you started together, you got along with anyone but gravitated towards Spencer more than anyone else. Him and Penelope were the easiest for you to be around, you loved everyone but you had your favourites.

While Penelope had been bugging you to either kick up the courage to do something about your friendship with Spencer, or move on, you did neither.

"Oh, save it,," you fire back, tossing your bag on your desk. "I’m fashionably late. It’s a thing."

"Yeah, fashionably late in a profession like this. Very chic. Theres other ways to get here you know — from your house-“

“Don’t even” you cut him off.

“Im just saying if you keep missing the same turn off every time maybe it’s a sign you should be going a different way.” He muttered.

“I didn’t miss the turn off.” You argued. You lied.

“You did.”

“No”

He said your name and you huffed.

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin as you sink into your chair. "Can we pretend, just for today, that you’re not right?"

"Well," Spencer says, leaning back in his chair, "I’m only right about ninety-seven percent of the time. So, technically, you’ve got a three percent chance of being right today. Want to take a gamble?"

You throw a crumpled paper at him. "Your math is annoying."

He catches it, eyes twinkling, and throws it back at you. "Annoying?"

“Yes, annoying. It hurts my head”

It’s easy between the two of you—this banter, this back-and-forth. It always has been, ever since the first case you worked together. Over time, it’s become second nature to tease him, push his buttons, and he always gives it right back. The tension slips away with every joke, but today, there’s something different about the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long, like he’s waiting for you to catch on.

You ignore it. You have to.

"So, what do we have?" you ask, holding out your hand for the file in his lap.

He passes it to you, fingers brushing against yours. It’s brief, but the touch sends a spark up your arm. Your eyes meet for a second longer than necessary, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t know what to say.

Spencer clears his throat, looking back down at the file. "This unsub’s a real charmer. I think he's using manipulation tactics to lure his victims. He’s got a pattern, but it’s subtle. Took me a while to piece it together."

"Took you a while? So, like... five minutes?" You grin, but the edge in your voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

He laughs, a sound that always surprises you because it’s rare, but so genuine. "Try thirty. It was a real struggle."

"Wow. I almost feel bad for you."

His smile fades just a little, and when he looks at you again, there’s that shift. Something hovers between you, just under the surface, where the teasing usually stays. His eyes flicker over your face, and suddenly, you wonder if he’s about to say something else, something that would cross the line you’ve never acknowledged before.

Your heart skips, and before you can stop yourself, you lean forward a little. Your breath catches.

"So..." Spencer starts, but before the sentence can land, your phone buzzes on your desk. The sharp sound breaks the moment like a snapped thread. You jerk back, grabbing your phone.

"Hotch needs us in the conference room," you mutter, more to yourself than him, trying to get a grip on the swirling thoughts in your head. "We’ve got a lead."

Spencer blinks, clearly shaken out of whatever that was, and you stand up quickly, focusing hard on the case and not on the fact that you were about two seconds away from… what? Leaning in? Kissing him?

No. That’s not what this is. This is Spencer.

"Race you to the conference room?" he asks suddenly, the playful lilt back in his voice, but there’s still something lingering behind his eyes, a question neither of you seems ready to ask.

"Race? You’re literally taller than me, that’s cheating. I’m wearing heels!!"

"You can run in heels, can’t you?" He shoots you a smirk, the tension easing just enough for you to relax, even if your heart is still racing.

"Could. But i don't want to damage my gorgeous shoes," you huffed, yet already heading for the door.

"Gorgeous shoes?" He repeated, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah that was actually the name of the shoes when i bought them. They had 'gorgeous shoes' written in big letters across the box." You smiled, tilting your head.

"Really?"

"No."

You make it halfway to the conference room before he catches up, the two of you slipping back into your usual rhythm. But as you walk into the room side by side, the unspoken thing still hangs between you. You don’t talk about it, and maybe you never will, but it’s there.

“Are you still coming over tonight?” He asked, looking down at you, eyes lingering on yours. You nod.

“It’s pizza night. Of course I am.”

And once again, you’re reminded that with Spencer, things have never been as simple as just best friends.

You’re standing in Spencer’s tiny kitchen, flour everywhere. And when you say everywhere, you mean it—on the counters, in your hair, smeared on his cheek where you definitely didn’t mean to slap him with dough earlier.

“This is going really well,” you deadpan, holding up the limp, misshapen pizza dough.

“Um.” He squints as he looks at the mess.

“Well.. you’re the genius who can outsmart anyone but apparently can’t figure out yeast,” you argue, pinning the blame on him. “Is it supposed to look like this?” You muttered, tilting your head.

“I think it’s fighting back. Maybe we’re the victims now.”

You both dissolve into laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. This was supposed to be simple. Homemade pizza sounded like a cute idea, something easy to do on a night off, but it’s turned into chaos. The dough’s not cooperating, the sauce might be too watery, and you’re pretty sure you added way too much garlic. But that’s what makes it fun.

"Okay," Spencer says, hands raised in surrender. "I officially give up. This dough has outsmarted me."

"You’re giving up? Dr Spencer Reid, defeated by pizza dough?" You snatch the rolling pin from him, trying to take over, but the second you press down, the dough tears. "Okay, maybe it’s smarter than both of us."

Spencer steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to inspect the mess you've made. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and for just a second, everything feels different. The banter pauses. His breath is soft on your neck, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches to touch the dough. Your heart stutters, and you freeze, unsure of what to do next.

But then, with no warning, Spencer flicks flour at you.

"Hey!" you squeal, spinning around to face him, eyes wide. He looks so pleased with himself, a mischievous grin on his face.

"What? You had flour in your hair. I was just trying to help.”

"Sure, you were." You reach for the bag of flour, holding it up threateningly. "I will not hesitate to make this a war, Spencer."

He grins widely, almost daringly.

You grab a handful of flour and toss it at him in retaliation. "You are such a child."

“I’m just helping!” he protests, dodging your attack and grabbing the rolling pin like a shield. His laughter is contagious, and soon you’re both caught up in it, the tension slipping away into something lighter, easier.

You try to swipe more flour at him, but he grabs your wrist, stopping you mid-throw. His fingers wrap around your wrist gently, but the touch sends an unexpected shiver up your arm. You both freeze, the room suddenly too quiet again, his hand lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary.

His gaze flickers down to where his fingers rest against your skin, and then back up to meet your eyes. There’s a pause, just long enough for the air between you to thicken, something unspoken hanging between you. His thumb brushes your wrist lightly, and you wonder if he feels it too—the tension that’s been simmering all night, just beneath the surface.

You swallow hard, pulling your hand away, but not before you catch the briefest flicker of something in his expression. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and just like that, the moment slips away.

His eyes narrow playfully, and for a second, you think he might call your bluff. But instead, he just chuckles and steps back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let’s not escalate this. We’re adults, after all."

"Adults who can’t make pizza," you mutter, dumping the ruined dough into the trash. "Guess we’ll have to order in. Again."

Spencer wipes his hands on a towel, still smiling. "I’ll let you pick the place this time. As long as it’s not that one with the weird crust you made us try last month."

"Oh come on, that was a bold choice! You just have no sense of adventure."

"I have a very good sense of adventure," he says, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes sparkling in that way that makes you feel like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. "I just like my pizza to taste like pizza."

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning, too. "Fine. We’ll get the boring pizza this time."

As you both settle into the living room, waiting for the pizza to arrive, you can't help but feel that lingering tension again. The kind that sneaks up on you when things get quiet, when the laughter dies down, and it’s just the two of you sitting side by side, closer than necessary.

You smile, nudging him with your elbow. "Who knew you were such a terrible cook, though?"

"I think we share equal blame here."

"Maybe," you admit, glancing at him. His eyes catch yours, and for just a moment, the playful air between you shifts. It’s small, like the brush of his hand earlier, like the way he’s looking at you now. Your heart skips again, and you wonder—just for a second—if maybe, possibly, you weren’t imagining it. You ignore it, there was too much that could go wrong if you didn’t.

It’s late in the afternoon when you hear the knock at your door. The sun's still out, casting a soft golden light through your living room windows, but it’s the last thing on your mind.

You’re dressed in something more put together than usual because, of course, Penelope had insisted on setting you up on this date tonight. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but she’d been so enthusiastic that you’d caved. You’d said yes to humor her, to get her off your back.

She had insisted that you needed something to get your mind off Spencer. You wondered if that was actually possible.

So when the knock comes, your stomach churns, thinking it might be the guy arriving too early. But when you open the door, it's not your date.

It’s Spencer.

He’s standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly disheveled, and there’s a look on his face you can’t quite place. It’s tight, maybe a little frustrated, though he's trying hard to keep his expression neutral.

“Spence?” You lean against the doorframe, arching an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away, eyes scanning you briefly before he looks down, then back up again. There’s tension in his posture, the kind you recognize when he’s overthinking something. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh.”

His face tightens even more, though he tries to hide it with a half-hearted shrug. “Did Penelope set you up with some guy?”

“Yeah?” You squinted trying to figure out how he knew that. You hadn’t mentioned it, you didn’t want to talk about what had caused your sudden date or have to lie to him about why Penelope suddenly set you up when you have shown no intention of being interested in dating.

“Penelope told me. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, running his hand through his hair as if he was stressed. You didn’t understand, not really. You told Spencer everything so you could understand why he would be annoyed that you didn’t tell him this, but it seemed as if he took it personally.

You squint at him, crossing your arms. “What is your issue? You look like you want to strangle someone.”

He lets out a huff, avoiding your eyes again. “It’s nothing.”

You tilt your head, studying him. There’s something under the surface, and you’re not about to let it go. “Well you’re here so, obviously its not nothing … What’s going on?”

He finally looks up at you, his eyes sharp and filled with something you haven’t seen before. It catches you off guard for a moment. “It’s just—there was a moment.”

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “A moment?”

His voice drops, a little rougher now, a little more real. “Last week. When we were making pizza, and the week before that— and during- there was a moment.”

Your heart skips. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you stay silent, letting him continue.

“I thought there was a moment,” he says, his frustration starting to leak through his words now. “I thought maybe something was… happening.”

Your chest tightens, the air in the room shifting as you meet his eyes. “There was.”

The confession comes out of your mouth before you even realize it, and the tension between you two spikes instantly, filling the space with an electric charge. You can feel it, the way everything has changed with those two words.

Spencer just stares at you, his brow furrowing slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to admit it. He takes a step forward, you step back almost unconsciously, and your heart beats faster in your chest.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice low, unsure.

He doesn’t stop moving, closing the gap between you even more, and his voice is soft but firm when he speaks. “Will you just stand still for a minute?”

Before you can say anything, before you can even process what’s happening, his hand comes up to cup the side of your face, and his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but it’s full of all the unspoken things that have been building between you for so long. You feel the world tilt, your hands instinctively moving to grip the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. For a second, everything else fades away—your date, the case, everything.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you just stare at each other. His thumb brushes lightly across your cheek, and his eyes search yours, full of something that feels too big to name.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment, the silence thick and heavy with everything that’s just shifted between you.

Then, as if in slow motion, you take a small step forward. It’s your turn now, the tables flipped, and you can see the surprise flicker in his eyes as he instinctively steps back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, echoing your earlier words, his voice low and a little breathless

You give him a small smile, feeling the tension twist tighter in your chest. “Will you just stand still for a minute?” You mirrored his words

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move, and before he can say another word, you close the space between you and kiss him again.

This time, it’s different. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss is deeper, more insistent, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It’s like everything you’ve both been holding back is finally breaking free, all the tension and the unspoken feelings rushing to the surface.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily, faces inches from each other. Your hands are still gripping the front of his jacket, his fingers still digging into your sides like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t move, neither of you do. You just stay there, staring at each other, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not thinking about the job, or the cases, or anything else. It’s just him.

He’s the first to break the silence, his voice quiet and almost disbelieving, He exhales, a long, relieved breath, his hand still resting on your waist. “I thought maybe I was imagining it.”

You shake your head, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “No. You weren’t imagining it.”

Another beat of silence passes, and then his lips quirk up into that small, crooked smile you’ve always liked so much. “Well, I guess we have Penelope to thank for this.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back. “Yeah, and she doesn’t even know it.”

His thumb brushes your side, a subtle touch, but enough to send a shiver up your spine. “Are you… still going on that date?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you almost laugh. The idea of leaving now, of going out with some guy Penelope set you up with, feels absurd.

“No,” you say, your voice steady and certain. “I’m not.”

His smile widens, just a little. “Good.”

You grin up at him, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Yeah? Why’s that good?”

Spencer’s gaze softens, and for the first time, you see the real reason for his frustration, for all of this. He steps even closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his voice low and sincere.

“Because, there was a moment.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you meet his eyes, that familiar warmth spreading through you again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, his lips ghosting yours, and the last bit of tension that’s been sitting between you melts away completely. He smiles, and before either of you can say anything else, he closes the gap and kisses you again.

[knoxic]

Teasing and Loving

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Summary: smut, Eris being a simp, smut, emotional talk, smut

wc: 2,8k

warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, trying for a baby (hinted at), oral (m and f receiving), cum eating, no beta

a/n: technically it was part of the How to be a High Lady series but it works better as a one shot imo

"Love?" Eris called out to her, pushing her office door far enough to fit his head in, at her nod he let himself in, closing the door behind him. "A letter arrived from Winter." He gently set the letter on her table, away from the other papers scattered around the place.

"Oh, what did they want?" She looked up from the book she was studying, catching the amused grin he tried to hide.

"I don't know, it's for you." He slid the letter closer to her as if to make a point.

"Ah, I'm still getting used to receiving letters like this..." She felt slightly embarrassed but brushed it off, she closed the book carefully and placed it aside before picking up the letter. Eris had made his way around her table and was leaning against it by her side, watching her every move.

"Hello, fellow High Lady! I was hoping we could spend some girl's time together, perhaps while our males discuss some court business, let them handle all the work for a while, now that we are allies, they ought to be friends too. So, what do you say? We could meet here in Winter and I could show you the wonders we have, or, you could show me what Autumn has been hiding all these years, Kal and I have always wanted to visit Autumn, the few hours we get to spend there for the meetings do not do it justice, that I'm sure of.

Eagerly waiting for your response,

Your fellow High Lady, Viviane."

"Viviane is asking if I want to spend some 'girl's time' with her," she giggled, "And I think Kallias finally crowned her High Lady." She showed Eris the letter, pointing to the first and last phrases.

"About time," Eris uttered, "Was starting to think he didn't have it in him."

"Eris." She gave him a pointed look. Sometimes his old self would come up, a natural response, they were both working on it.

"Habit, sorry." He smiled at her, faking innocence but quickly erupted into laughter, making her join him. It was so weird for him not having to insult someone at any opportunity encountered, that when he did, out of nowhere, it was funny.

"You're so stupid." She said, stomach cramping from how hard she was laughing.

"Darling, you marry this stupid, deal with it." Eris sighed, running a hand through his perfect hair trying to compose himself. "So, will you?"

"Yes, it's been way too long since I've had a girl's time." She started searching for some paper so she could write back to Viviane.

"Not to sound insecure or anything but... what exactly do you females do on your 'girl's time'?"

"Just girly things, males and our sex life, you know," she responded nonchalantly, "Last time I had one, one of my friends had even reenacted some scenes..." Eris' face at that moment was something she'd paid to see again. His eyes looked like they'd pop out of his head, his cheeks flushed redder than she'd ever seen before, his mouth was hanging open and he looked like a fish when he trying to talk.

"Relax, Eris! I'm just joking." She laughed, her belly protesting. She saw through watery eyes the moment Eris regained his composure, his smirk gave her a hint that they had a long night ahead.

Two big hands pulled her body up, making her squeal and laugh even harder. Eris picked her up and turned them both so he was now sitting on her chair, his lips kissed her neck while his hands found the ticklish spots around her body.

"You think you can fuck with me and not be punished for it, little witch?" His voice was rough with lust, her laughter died down and turned into soft moans.

"Careful, I might reenact what you'll do next with Viviane..." A hand smacked her cheek, the warm feeling of the scalding fire that ran through his veins made her shiver with goosebumps, the whisper of his slender fingers running up her spine only making her tremble harder. The effect Eris had on her was insane.

"Don't you dare. Not the time to play, love." He bit her shoulder. She nodded, knowing Eris wouldn't actually be mad at her for misbehaving, but he would be stressed, and while he'd never act like his father, an stressed Eris was more sad than anything, and she hated that. He was done being used and beaten, the stress he endured all these centuries was enough to mess with his head so hard that now he could barely bear feeling stressed.

She nodded against his neck, kissing and nuzzling his shoulder. In response, he tugged her closer to him, his fingers finally working on the buttons of her dress, pulling apart and setting her down on her desk to take their clothes off.

When Eris was done unbuttoning his shirt, her hands found his muscular chest, pushing him back, signaling for him to sit. She quickly got down on her knees, Eris purposely slipped the fabric of her dress where her knees would meet the floor, making sure they wouldn't hurt so much. Her fingers worked on the strings of his trousers, when they slipped inside the waistband, Eris lifted his hips for her to slip them out, his briefs following suit, during their undressing, Eris had also taken his boots off.

Her hands danced around his torso and tights, lightly scratching his skin, her fingers followed his happy trail before touching his cock, squeezing him the way he liked while running her hand up and down. His warm fingers caressed her arms, encouraging her to keep the pace.

After he was completely hard, she started licking his tip, running her tongue against the underside, slowly going down and licking the whole expanse of his member. His quiet sights and humming making her skin tingle, leaning away from him she admired her artwork, the way his skin was redder in certain spots, his breath was ragged even with so little action, his eyelids almost fully closed and his hair the same messy hair she saw at home. His vulnerability came with a messy version of Eris that would make anyone question if it was really him, his usually perfect styled hair seemed to have never seen a hairbrush, his enviable posture sometimes slumpy.

"Don't stop..." He whined, his head lolled from one side to another.

Taking pity on him, she brought her mouth back down, taking as much of him as she could, bobbing her head slowly, taking him deeper everytime she went down until her nose was pressed against him.

"Gods... What did I do to deserve you?" Eris mumbled, when she looked up, his eyes were fully closed and his mouth had formed a pleased smile.

Eris wasn't really into blowjobs, at least not like the other males she knew, he'd never refuse it of course, but he wasn't one to ask for it. She never asked and Eris never said anything, but she had an inkling that it might have something to do with his father, the way he viewed and treated females, Eris was bound to have heard and, perhaps, seen some disgusting things.

Her mate's hand gently cradled her head, not moving her, just holding. His hips twitched every time her mouth fully enveloped him, she noticed how much effort he was putting into not thrusting up.

"You can fuck my mouth if you want." Her voice was raspy and breathless when she spoke, immediately going back to sucking on him, paying special attention to his tip. His eyebrows furrowed like he was in pain, mouth opened in a silent moan, the muscular thighs under her finger tensed. Suddenly Eris was pushing her head away and yanking her up into his lap.

"For someone who claims to hate teasing, you're doing it way too well, sweetheart." His hands slipped through her hair until he had a good hold of the back of her head, he pushed her closer to his mouth, just enough that she could touch him if she stuck her tongue out, when she tried to lean in for a kiss, he pulled at her hair. He laughed at her pout and gave a mocking peck to her bottom lip, a mere brush that could never be called a kiss.

"You're mean, you know that?" She pushed at his chest, not exactly trying to push him away, all her strength went to keeping her smile at bay.

"But my love... someone needs to take that seriousness off your pretty face."

"You just say that because you can't be serious around me, I smell envy..." She sniffled jokingly, the only scent that filled her nose was arousal, the musk smell of Eris and the slick coating her thighs.

Eris giggled, throwing his head back, one of his hands left her waist to rest at his abdomen, his body convulsing with soft laughter. None of the males she met before laughed like that, in fact, she wasn't sure if they ever truly laughed. Eris, despite his upbringing, knew how to have a good laugh.

"Oh Gods... I couldn't have asked for a better mate." His  head was still thrown back, if the sight of his body slumped in her chair didn't say anything, his relaxed smile sure did. "Kiss me." The hand that remained on her waist ran up to her cheek, "Kiss me." He repeated, bringing her head closer. "Drown me with the taste of you." Their tongues danced. "Make me forget how to breathe without your hands on me." Her hips lifted enough to take him inside her warm cunt, the feeling making them both groan. "My body is yours, my soul is yours, my heart is yours, take my mind too. My every thought is yours, everything I think is formulated with your face in my mind, everything I plan is thinking of you and us, our future, our family..."

Their heartbeats synchronized, their mouths dancing, the rhythm of her hips rocking their bodies, their chests collided with rapid breaths, hands here and there squeezing and feeling. "Eris–"

"Yes! Yes, yes, please!" His hands went back to her hips, helping her bounce on top of him, her head dropped to his shoulder, nodding.

Eris gasped, as pleasure threatened to push him off the edge, he braced an arm on her waist and lifted himself off her chair, his unoccupied hand pushed the paper off the desk, he'll help reorganize them later. Feeling the kisses she planted on his neck, combined with her sigh of pleasure when he slipped her down his cock, almost made his knees buckle.

He set her down onto the desk, curving an arm under her head, giving her time to adjust to the new position before he started to thrust, his forehead resting on hers, their breaths fanning each others faces.

Her hands ran the whole expanse of Eris' back, encouraging him to thrust into her, each snap of his hip against hers threatening to push her off the desk, the arm he slung under her head being the only thing keeping her from doing so. The intensity of having sex with Eris never failed to amaze her, she wasn't sure if it was because he was her mate, or if it was really just in his nature to be intense, probably both. Due his accidental edging, Eris already felt close to cuming, the fact that she kept squeezing him didn't help, he was sure she was doing it on purpose, brat, he really taught her well. He couldn't stop his hips from stuttering so he just stopped, resting his cock fully inside her, his head dropping to her chest to suck on her perky nipples, trying to pretend it was all in purpose, unfortunately for him, it didn't foul her. Her soft giggles filled his ears, both her hands moving to his head, running her fingers through his wild red hair.

"Have I already told you I love your messy hair?"

Eris pulled back from her breast to look at her, a expressionof shock on his face before a breath burst out of him, "My hair is not messy, love." He answered while giggling, thinking she was joking. She only rolled her eyes in response, moving her hips against his, Eris' mouth feel open, his eyes slammed shut.

"Close already?" She smiled up at him, knowing too well the effect she had on him. Her legs moved so she had a firm grip of him, now being able to move her hips better, squeezing his cock whenever he was pushed deep inside her.

"Keep doing that–" His words were cut off by a groan, "And I'll cum before you." Eris' whole body trembled.

"It's okay." She pulled his head closer to hers, nuzzling his nose before initiating a kiss. She doubled her efforts to make him cum, moving her hips harder and faster, licking into his mouth like an starved female.

Eris groaned, his body tensed, his knees buckled, his arms gave up and he fell fully against her, she could feel his thighs shaking and a hot liquid filling her cunt. She felt every spurt of cum, his cock throbbing, the way that even when he was finished he was still hard. As soon as he regained control of his legs, he trusted slowly into her, pushing his cum as deep as he could.

When he came down from his high, Eris pulled back from her mouth, not once had she stopped kissing him, his eyes roamed through her beautiful body, his hands squeezing her breasts and stomach, sliding down until his thumb met her clit, rubbing lazy circles on her, just enough to feel good.

Eris slid his cock off of her slowly, catching the small spurt of cum that came out and pushing it back inside her. After meeting her gaze one last time, he fell to his knees, his mouth placing gentle kisses and nibbles on her plump thighs.

His nose brushed her clit, their scents mingled together filled his nose, his tongue licked her slit like the starved male he was, slurping his own release mixed with her wetness. Her moans drew him insane, she was a quiet female so to know she made those beautiful noises because of him, was maddening. Her hands brushed his hair out of his face, careful fingers touching his pointed ear, making it twitch involuntarily. She felt more than heard her mate's groan, the vibration directly on her clit pushed her off the edge she didn't even know she was treading. Eris didn't stop, the pleasure building up inside her as if she never reached her release at all. His slender fingers pushing through her throbbing slit, curling into a spot inside her that made her see stars, after years of experience, Eris could definitely bring her orgasm after orgasm if he wanted to, and that's what he did. Pushing his fingers as deep as they'd go and pulling them out before she could slip off again, he played with her until he was sure she was too deep in pleasure to hold it back.

When he was done, she could barely feel her own body, still tingling with pleasure and her mind too fogged up. She felt warmth and his scent enveloped her, her cheek pressed into something hard, his heartbeat helped bring her back to herself. Eris' hand brushed her locks behind her ear, caressing her hair mindlessly, he planted kisses where he could reach, head, forehead, eyes, nose, until she stared back at him, eyes still shining as she smiled.

"That was good." She said, voice barely a whisper. Eris hummed in response, smiling back.

He helped her into his shirt, knowing she was too sensitive to wear her dress again. After that they went back to their chambers, still holding one another as they went. All the servants had gone to bed by now, so no one saw their half dressed High Lord and Lady walking through the corridors.

"Are you too tired for a bath?" Eris asked agaisnt her neck, never one to stay away from his mate. "Hungry? I can go make us something." He brushed her jawline with his nose, arms tightly holding her against him.

"Not too tired, and kind of hungry but I'd rather have you here with me." She answered with her eyes closed, bathing in the affection he poured on her.

"I'll draw us a bath, and then we'll go eat something." It was natural for them, so many times had Eris gone to visit her in the middle of the night with an empty stomach, right after finishing all of his work for the day. It only got worse when he became High Lord, so many things to be fixed that the only moment they got to themselves was at night, when Prythian was asleep.

Taglist: @callsigns-haze , @lilah-asteria , @mybestfriendmademe , @coldmermaidhologram , @rcarbo1 , @andreperez11 , @st4r-girl-official , @tenshis-cake , @pirana10 , @esposadomd lmk if you want to be added/removed

A/n²: I accidentally wrote "you can duck my mouth if you want"... and when I read it midway through the smut it was... cringe, I stopped writing. had to go feed the ducks

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 24

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23

1.2k words

Things may have not gone to plan, but you finally felt close to Zen.

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

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A warm fire crackled in the hearth as you sat on Zen’s lap, both still naked. He was warming up the food he had brought home for dinner and you did not want to separate from him when he had gotten up from the bed. You cuddled against his chest while he reached around you to place everything at the edges of the hearth to warm up.

“Aren’t you cold just sitting on the floor?” you asked.

“Not with the hearth lit, and you are keeping me warm” he gave you a quick nuzzle.

A new layer of comfort had settled between the two of you, no barriers remained. Things did not exactly go as planned, but that hardly mattered now. All that remained now was room to grow.

Zen handed you food as it was ready, minced meat and vegetables wrapped in some sort of pastry, while he hummed his usual song.

“You got home early today” you pointed out to him.

“Bira came by and told me I needed to go home and check on something.”

“And you still stopped for food on the way home?”

“It did not seem like an emergency and we still need to eat” he shrugged.

You could not help but laugh a bit. Both Bira and Ba’tual had pointed out a few times that Zen used to skip meals most days, too caught up in everything else to take care of himself. It was not that he looked scrawny or anything when you first met, but now that he was eating well and sleeping through the night he sure did look a lot healthier.

He kept an arm wrapped around you to hold you close while he ate too, which was cozy, though you did have a complaint.

“You’re getting crumbs in my hair” you said and tried to brush them off.

“And I will help you get them out after too” he said.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence at the hearth for a while, Zen’s tusks tapped against the sides of your head while he tried to kiss the top of your head. With the sun starting to set the familiar chill started to set in.

“How about I run a hot bath for us?” Zen offered as if reading your mind.

You nodded against his chest and let him pick you up. Even from this awkward angle with you siting on his lap he lifted you with ease.

The warm water of the bath felt good against your cool skin while Zen washed your hair, getting the crumbs out as promised. Between the feeling of him purring while you leaned back against his chest and him playing with your hair you could have easily fallen asleep like that.

“You look comfortable” Zen said.

“I am” you answered.

“I like that, I like that you are comfortable here and around me” he said as he helped rinse the shampoo from your hair.

“Did you ever plan on getting married, like in general?” you asked.

“I have planned on very few things in my life, things just happen and I pray that they work out.”

“Like this?”

“Like this” he repeated, “And I am very happy things are working out. But you expected to marry, right?”

“I did, and when I was little my family did come to an agreement with another family that if their son could make a name for himself and climb the ranks in the royal navy I would be promised to him.”

“And you were alright with that?”

“It’s just life. He’s from a good family so it would have been a good match” you shrugged.

“Am I a good match?”

You had not put much thought into it truthfully, no more thought than that you were marrying someone who was not human. “Well, you’re a representative on the king’s council and the avatar of a god, so technically I might have married above my station.”

“And that is a good thing?” he asked cautiously.

“Technically this is a very good marriage for me.”

“Technically?”

“Yes, in theory this is a good marriage for me because I married up. But honestly you’re just a really good husband Zen.”

He wrapped his arms around you tightly and pulled you as close as he could without crushing you, “I am trying to be” he said against the side of your head.

You stayed entwined in the tub until the water started to cool. Zen got out first to dry off and relight the hearth to make sure the main room was warm enough for you before coming back to help you out of the tub and dry off.

He tucked you into bed, pulling the covered over you both and then pulled you on top of his chest. His hands were warm on the bare skin of your back while he absentmindedly rubbed your back and occasionally nuzzled his jaw against the top of your head.

It was always just calm being with him. Zen was never in a hurry with anything, well except for earlier. Earlier when he could not keep his hands off of you. Earlier when he eagerly undressed you. When he pressed against you and grinded against you. How direct and needy he was.

You leaned up to kiss his neck and he happily tilted his head to the side to let you reach better. His pulse was strong just under his skin and soft against your lips. By the time you had reached to nip along his jaw he was softly moaning and his hands had traveled down from your back down to your hips so he could really pull you close.

“And what are you up to my lovely wife?” he asked and you could feel the vibrations from his purring.

You did not answer, but instead reached up to pull his hair, making him bare more of his throat to you.

“You are so pushy for such a little thing, I like it” he chuckled.

At this point you were straddling his chest with how far up you had scooted to reach him. The vibrations from his purring were going straight to your clit and only encourage you to grind against him. You had been so ready earlier, so wet and excited to feel his thick cock fill you now that you were ready. It had been so disappointing when you had to stop that afternoon, the first few inches had felt incredible before he got to be too much.

“Are we picking back up from earlier then?” he asked.

“I want you” was all you could manage.

He tilted your face up so you could see him and gave you such a smirk, “Good, because all I have been able to think about for the last few hours was you riding me until you scream my name and then claiming you properly.”

His words made your cunt clench around nothing, a fire lit in your belly at the thought of him claiming you.

“Get on your back” he panted in your ear, “I am going to make sure that you are ready for me this time.”

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Part 25

Tag list

@blushycadaver @hazyspacefairy @littlelovebug98 @tufflepuff23 @graveblanketgreen @lets-imagineastory @emonatural191 @lovingbadguys @after-laughter-come-tears @plathsotherib @krayziee @zaqnette @mochalyluv @nogoatsnoglori (doesn’t want to let me tag mocha or nogoats)

[romor]

I'm starting to think people don't understand that adaptations have to be different. Did netflix have the same amount of time as Book 1 to work with? Technically yes, but 20 episodes is for sure more than 8 so they didn't.

If you are constantly comparing it to the original and upset about the changes. Then for sure the netflix adaptation is not for you.

I've seen some bad adaptations over the years, for example my favorite book is Inkheart. Even the 2010 Avatar movie is a better adaptation than Inkheart's.

Conclusion it's a pretty good series, if you like the original, if you can watch it without constantly comparing it to the original you will enjoy it more.

Editing to add to this since so many have said something.

Inkheart is not a horrible movie, but it is a bad adaptation. Fantastic cast, with no loyalty to the source material.

There is a difference between adapting a story, and remaking it. This is literally being referred to as the netflix adaptation, so clearly it's not a remake. Because it is an adaptation, changes are expected. It would be stupid to expect a copy and paste story.

The changes make sense, because if you want book 2, and only have 8 episodes to work, you have to make a lot happen. The original show has clear start and end points for the events that occur (aka you know that start of the episode and the end). That's fine, when you have 20 episodes to work with, each 20 minutes. That doesn't work with 8 episodes each 1 hour (or about an hour). It doesn't translate to smooth storytelling. A lot of important things occur in book 1, but let's not forget that book 1 is also more episodic vs the rest of the series. In fact don't we often say "it gets better," about the book 1? What I am saying, a lot has to happen in the first season to set up not just season 2, but season 3. They did really good making sure those events happened.

I don't mind the mixing of plot because they didn't have much of a choice if they wanted a cohesive plot. I would also like to add I'm so glad the removed the northern air temple episode's setting. Never felt right with me.

I'm not saying don't compare them because it's impossible not to. I'm saying that if you are constantly going to be thinking of everything they changed, if you think the original series is so perfect. So unflawed, that how dare they even try. If you are going to be watching it already offended that they decided to even touch it. This adaptation is not for you.

If you were like me and wished that fire did in fact burn everytime it touched someone. If you are like me and thought the original series was too light-hearted for its plot. Then you will enjoy it. It's a fun adaptation, that keeps as loyal to its source material as it can be.

Yes I have my issues with it, but that doesn't mean it wasn't a fun watch.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

My McLuhan lecture on enshittification

IT'S THE LAST DAY for the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

Last night, I gave the annual Marshall McLuhan lecture at the Transmediale festival in Berlin. The event was sold out and while there's a video that'll be posted soon, they couldn't get a streaming setup installed in the Canadian embassy, where the talk was held:

https://transmediale.de/en/2024/event/mcluhan-2024

The talk went of fabulously, and was followed by commentary from Frederike Kaltheuner (Human Rights Watch) and a discussion moderated by Helen Starr. While you'll have to wait a bit for the video, I thought that I'd post my talk notes from last night for the impatient among you.

I want to thank the festival and the embassy staff for their hard work on an excellent event. And now, on to the talk!

Last year, I coined the term 'enshittification,' to describe the way that platforms decay. That obscene little word did big numbers, it really hit the zeitgeist. I mean, the American Dialect Society made it their Word of the Year for 2023 (which, I suppose, means that now I'm definitely getting a poop emoji on my tombstone).

So what's enshittification and why did it catch fire? It's my theory explaining how the internet was colonized by platforms, and why all those platforms are degrading so quickly and thoroughly, and why it matters – and what we can do about it.

We're all living through the enshittocene, a great enshittening, in which the services that matter to us, that we rely on, are turning into giant piles of shit.

It's frustrating. It's demoralizing. It's even terrifying.

I think that the enshittification framework goes a long way to explaining it, moving us out of the mysterious realm of the 'great forces of history,' and into the material world of specific decisions made by named people – decisions we can reverse and people whose addresses and pitchfork sizes we can learn.

Enshittification names the problem and proposes a solution. It's not just a way to say 'things are getting worse' (though of course, it's fine with me if you want to use it that way. It's an English word. We don't have der Rat für Englisch Rechtschreibung. English is a free for all. Go nuts, meine Kerle).

But in case you want to use enshittification in a more precise, technical way, let's examine how enshittification works.

It's a three stage process: First, platforms are good to their users; then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers; finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die.

Let's do a case study. What could be better than Facebook?

Facebook is a company that was founded to nonconsensually rate the fuckability of Harvard undergrads, and it only got worse after that.

When Facebook started off, it was only open to US college and high-school kids with .edu and k-12.us addresses. But in 2006, it opened up to the general public. It told them: “Yes, I know you’re all using Myspace. But Myspace is owned by Rupert Murdoch, an evil, crapulent senescent Australian billionaire, who spies on you with every hour that God sends.

“Sign up with Facebook and we will never spy on you. Come and tell us who matters to you in this world, and we will compose a personal feed consisting solely of what those people post for consumption by those who choose to follow them.”

That was stage one. Facebook had a surplus — its investors’ cash — and it allocated that surplus to its end-users. Those end-users proceeded to lock themselves into FB. FB — like most tech businesses — has network effects on its side. A product or service enjoys network effects when it improves as more people sign up to use it. You joined FB because your friends were there, and then others signed up because you were there.

But FB didn’t just have high network effects, it had high switching costs. Switching costs are everything you have to give up when you leave a product or service. In Facebook’s case, it was all the friends there that you followed and who followed you. In theory, you could have all just left for somewhere else; in practice, you were hamstrung by the collective action problem.

It’s hard to get lots of people to do the same thing at the same time. You and your six friends here are going to struggle to agree on where to get drinks after tonight's lecture. How were you and your 200 Facebook friends ever gonna agree on when it was time to leave Facebook, and where to go?

So FB’s end-users engaged in a mutual hostage-taking that kept them glued to the platform. Then FB exploited that hostage situation, withdrawing the surplus from end-users and allocating it to two groups of business customers: advertisers, and publishers.

To the advertisers, FB said, 'Remember when we told those rubes we wouldn’t spy on them? We lied. We spy on them from asshole to appetite. We will sell you access to that surveillance data in the form of fine-grained ad-targeting, and we will devote substantial engineering resources to thwarting ad-fraud. Your ads are dirt cheap to serve, and we’ll spare no expense to make sure that when you pay for an ad, a real human sees it.'

To the publishers, FB said, 'Remember when we told those rubes we would only show them the things they asked to see? We lied!Upload short excerpts from your website, append a link, and we will nonconsensually cram it into the eyeballs of users who never asked to see it. We are offering you a free traffic funnel that will drive millions of users to your website to monetize as you please, and those users will become stuck to you when they subscribe to your feed.' And so advertisers and publishers became stuck to the platform, too, dependent on those users.

The users held each other hostage, and those hostages took the publishers and advertisers hostage, too, so that everyone was locked in.

Which meant it was time for the third stage of enshittification: withdrawing surplus from everyone and handing it to Facebook’s shareholders.

For the users, that meant dialing down the share of content from accounts you followed to a homeopathic dose, and filling the resulting void with ads and pay-to-boost content from publishers.

For advertisers, that meant jacking up prices and drawing down anti-fraud enforcement, so advertisers paid much more for ads that were far less likely to be seen by a person.

For publishers, this meant algorithmically suppressing the reach of their posts unless they included an ever-larger share of their articles in the excerpt, until anything less than fulltext was likely to be be disqualified from being sent to your subscribers, let alone included in algorithmic suggestion feeds.

And then FB started to punish publishers for including a link back to their own sites, so they were corralled into posting fulltext feeds with no links, meaning they became commodity suppliers to Facebook, entirely dependent on the company both for reach and for monetization, via the increasingly crooked advertising service.

When any of these groups squawked, FB just repeated the lesson that every tech executive learned in the Darth Vader MBA: 'I have altered the deal. Pray I don’t alter it any further.'

Facebook now enters the most dangerous phase of enshittification. It wants to withdraw all available surplus, and leave just enough residual value in the service to keep end users stuck to each other, and business customers stuck to end users, without leaving anything extra on the table, so that every extractable penny is drawn out and returned to its shareholders.

But that’s a very brittle equilibrium, because the difference between “I hate this service but I can’t bring myself to quit it,” and “Jesus Christ, why did I wait so long to quit? Get me the hell out of here!” is razor thin

All it takes is one Cambridge Analytica scandal, one whistleblower, one livestreamed mass-shooting, and users bolt for the exits, and then FB discovers that network effects are a double-edged sword.

If users can’t leave because everyone else is staying, when when everyone starts to leave, there’s no reason not to go, too.

That’s terminal enshittification, the phase when a platform becomes a pile of shit. This phase is usually accompanied by panic, which tech bros euphemistically call 'pivoting.'

Which is how we get pivots like, 'In the future, all internet users will be transformed into legless, sexless, low-polygon, heavily surveilled cartoon characters in a virtual world called "metaverse," that we ripped off from a 25-year-old satirical cyberpunk novel.'

That's the procession of enshittification. If enshittification were a disease, we'd call that enshittification's "natural history." But that doesn't tell you how the enshittification works, nor why everything is enshittifying right now, and without those details, we can't know what to do about it.

What led to the enshittocene? What is it about this moment that led to the Great Enshittening? Was it the end of the Zero Interest Rate Policy? Was it a change in leadership at the tech giants? Is Mercury in retrograde?

None of the above.

The period of free fed money certainly led to tech companies having a lot of surplus to toss around. But Facebook started enshittifying long before ZIRP ended, so did Amazon, Microsoft and Google.

Some of the tech giants got new leaders. But Google's enshittification got worse when the founders came back to oversee the company's AI panic (excuse me, 'AI pivot').

And it can't be Mercury in retrograde, because I'm a cancer, and as everyone knows, cancers don't believe in astrology.

When a whole bunch of independent entities all change in the same way at once, that's a sign that the environment has changed, and that's what happened to tech.

Tech companies, like all companies, have conflicting imperatives. On the one hand, they want to make money. On the other hand, making money involves hiring and motivating competent staff, and making products that customers want to buy. The more value a company permits its employees and customers to carve off, the less value it can give to its shareholders.

The equilibrium in which companies produce things we like in honorable ways at a fair price is one in which charging more, worsening quality, and harming workers costs more than the company would make by playing dirty.

There are four forces that discipline companies, serving as constraints on their enshittificatory impulses.

First: competition. Companies that fear you will take your business elsewhere are cautious about worsening quality or raising prices.

Second: regulation. Companies that fear a regulator will fine them more than they expect to make from cheating, will cheat less.

These two forces affect all industries, but the next two are far more tech-specific.

Third: self-help. Computers are extremely flexible, and so are the digital products and services we make from them. The only computer we know how to make is the Turing-complete Von Neumann machine, a computer that can run every valid program.

That means that users can always avail themselves of programs that undo the anti-features that shift value from them to a company's shareholders. Think of a board-room table where someone says, 'I've calculated that making our ads 20% more invasive will net us 2% more revenue per user.'

In a digital world, someone else might well say 'Yes, but if we do that, 20% of our users will install ad-blockers, and our revenue from those users will drop to zero, forever.'

This means that digital companies are constrained by the fear that some enshittificatory maneuver will prompt their users to google, 'How do I disenshittify this?'

Fourth and finally: workers. Tech workers have very low union density, but that doesn't mean that tech workers don't have labor power. The historical "talent shortage" of the tech sector meant that workers enjoyed a lot of leverage over their bosses. Workers who disagreed with their bosses could quit and walk across the street and get another job – a better job.

They knew it, and their bosses knew it. Ironically, this made tech workers highly exploitable. Tech workers overwhelmingly saw themselves as founders in waiting, entrepreneurs who were temporarily drawing a salary, heroic figures of the tech mission.

That's why mottoes like Google's 'don't be evil' and Facebook's 'make the world more open and connected' mattered: they instilled a sense of mission in workers. It's what Fobazi Ettarh calls 'vocational awe, 'or Elon Musk calls being 'extremely hardcore.'

Tech workers had lots of bargaining power, but they didn't flex it when their bosses demanded that they sacrifice their health, their families, their sleep to meet arbitrary deadlines.

So long as their bosses transformed their workplaces into whimsical 'campuses,' with gyms, gourmet cafeterias, laundry service, massages and egg-freezing, workers could tell themselves that they were being pampered – rather than being made to work like government mules.

But for bosses, there's a downside to motivating your workers with appeals to a sense of mission, namely: your workers will feel a sense of mission. So when you ask them to enshittify the products they ruined their health to ship, workers will experience a sense of profound moral injury, respond with outrage, and threaten to quit.

Thus tech workers themselves were the final bulwark against enshittification,

The pre-enshittification era wasn't a time of better leadership. The executives weren't better. They were constrained. Their worst impulses were checked by competition, regulation, self-help and worker power.

So what happened?

One by one, each of these constraints was eroded until it dissolved, leaving the enshittificatory impulse unchecked, ushering in the enshittoscene.

It started with competition. From the Gilded Age until the Reagan years, the purpose of competition law was to promote competition. US antitrust law treated corporate power as dangerous and sought to blunt it. European antitrust laws were modeled on US ones, imported by the architects of the Marshall Plan.

But starting in the neoliberal era, competition authorities all over the world adopted a doctrine called 'consumer welfare,' which held that monopolies were evidence of quality. If everyone was shopping at the same store and buying the same product, that meant it was the best store, selling the best product – not that anyone was cheating.

And so all over the world, governments stopped enforcing their competition laws. They just ignored them as companies flouted them. Those companies merged with their major competitors, absorbed small companies before they could grow to be big threats. They held an orgy of consolidation that produced the most inbred industries imaginable, whole sectors grown so incestuous they developed Habsburg jaws, from eyeglasses to sea freight, glass bottles to payment processing, vitamin C to beer.

Most of our global economy is dominated by five or fewer global companies. If smaller companies refuse to sell themselves to these cartels, the giants have free rein to flout competition law further, with 'predatory pricing' that keeps an independent rival from gaining a foothold.

When Diapers.com refused Amazon's acquisition offer, Amazon lit $100m on fire, selling diapers way below cost for months, until diapers.com went bust, and Amazon bought them for pennies on the dollar, and shut them down.

Competition is a distant memory. As Tom Eastman says, the web has devolved into 'five giant websites filled with screenshots of text from the other four,' so these giant companies no longer fear losing our business.

Lily Tomlin used to do a character on the TV show Laugh In, an AT&T telephone operator who'd do commercials for the Bell system. Each one would end with her saying 'We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company.'

Today's giants are not constrained by competition.

They don't care. They don't have to. They're Google.

That's the first constraint gone, and as it slipped away, the second constraint – regulation – was also doomed.

When an industry consists of hundreds of small- and medium-sized enterprises, it is a mob, a rabble. Hundreds of companies can't agree on what to tell Parliament or Congress or the Commission. They can't even agree on how to cater a meeting where they'd discuss the matter.

But when a sector dwindles to a bare handful of dominant firms, it ceases to be a rabble and it becomes a cartel.

Five companies, or four, or three, or two, or just one company finds it easy to converge on a single message for their regulators, and without "wasteful competition" eroding their profits, they have plenty of cash to spread around.

Like Facebook, handing former UK deputy PM Nick Clegg millions every year to sleaze around Europe, telling his former colleagues that Facebook is the only thing standing between 'European Cyberspace' and the Chinese Communist Party.

Tech's regulatory capture allows it to flout the rules that constrain less concentrated sectors. They can pretend that violating labor, consumer and privacy laws is fine, because they violate them with an app.

This is why competition matters: it's not just because competition makes companies work harder and share value with customers and workers, it's because competition keeps companies from becoming too big to fail, and too big to jail.

Now, there's plenty of things we don't want improved through competition, like privacy invasions. After the EU passed its landmark privacy law, the GDPR, there was a mass-extinction event for small EU ad-tech companies. These companies disappeared en masse, and that's fine.

They were even more invasive and reckless than US-based Big Tech companies. After all, they had less to lose. We don't want competition in commercial surveillance. We don't want to produce increasing efficiency in violating our human rights.

But: Google and Facebook – who pretend they are called Alphabet and Meta – have been unscathed by European privacy law. That's not because they don't violate the GDPR (they do!). It's because they pretend they are headquartered in Ireland, one of the EU's most notorious corporate crime-havens.

And Ireland competes with the EU other crime havens – Malta, Luxembourg, Cyprus and sometimes the Netherlands – to see which country can offer the most hospitable environment for all sorts of crimes. Because the kind of company that can fly an Irish flag of convenience is mobile enough to change to a Maltese flag if the Irish start enforcing EU laws.

Which is how you get an Irish Data Protection Commission that processes fewer than 20 major cases per year, while Germany's data commissioner handles more than 500 major cases, even though Ireland is nominal home to the most privacy-invasive companies on the continent.

So Google and Facebook get to act as though they are immune to privacy law, because they violate the law with an app; just like Uber can violate labor law and claim it doesn't count because they do it with an app.

Uber's labor-pricing algorithm offers different drivers different payments for the same job, something Veena Dubal calls 'algorithmic wage discrimination.' If you're more selective about which jobs you'll take, Uber will pay you more for every ride.

But if you take those higher payouts and ditch whatever side-hustle let you cover your bills which being picky about your Uber drives, Uber will incrementally reduce the payment, toggling up and down as you grow more or less selective, playing you like a fish on a line until you eventually – inevitably – lose to the tireless pricing robot, and end up stuck with low wages and all your side-hustles gone.

Then there's Amazon, which violates consumer protection laws, but says it doesn't matter, because they do it with an app. Amazon makes $38b/year from its 'advertising' system. 'Advertising' in quotes because they're not selling ads, they're selling placements in search results.

The companies that spend the most on 'ads' go to the top, even if they're offering worse products at higher prices. If you click the first link in an Amazon search result, on average you will pay a 29% premium over the best price on the service. Click one of the first four items and you'll pay a 25% premium. On average you have to go seventeen items down to find the best deal on Amazon.

Any merchant that did this to you in a physical storefront would be fined into oblivion. But Amazon has captured its regulators, so it can violate your rights, and say, "it doesn't count, we did it with an app"

This is where that third constraint, self-help, would sure come in handy. If you don't want your privacy violated, you don't need to wait for the Irish privacy regulator to act, you can just install an ad-blocker.

More than half of all web users are blocking ads. But the web is an open platform, developed in the age when tech was hundreds of companies at each others' throats, unable to capture their regulators.

Today, the web is being devoured by apps, and apps are ripe for enshittification. Regulatory capture isn't just the ability to flout regulation, it's also the ability to co-opt regulation, to wield regulation against your adversaries.

Today's tech giants got big by exploiting self-help measures. When Facebook was telling Myspace users they needed to escape Rupert Murdoch’s evil crapulent Australian social media panopticon, it didn’t just say to those Myspacers, 'Screw your friends, come to Facebook and just hang out looking at the cool privacy policy until they get here'

It gave them a bot. You fed the bot your Myspace username and password, and it would login to Myspace and pretend to be you, and scrape everything waiting in your inbox, copying it to your FB inbox, and you could reply to it and it would autopilot your replies back to Myspace.

When Microsoft was choking off Apple's market oxygen by refusing to ship a functional version of Microsoft Office for the Mac – so that offices were throwing away their designers' Macs and giving them PCs with upgraded graphics cards and Windows versions of Photoshop and Illustrator – Steve Jobs didn't beg Bill Gates to update Mac Office.

He got his technologists to reverse-engineer Microsoft Office, and make a compatible suite, the iWork Suite, whose apps, Pages, Numbers and Keynote could perfectly read and write Microsoft's Word, Excel and Powerpoint files.

When Google entered the market, it sent its crawler to every web server on Earth, where it presented itself as a web-user: 'Hi! Hello! Do you have any web pages? Thanks! How about some more? How about more?'

But every pirate wants to be an admiral. When Facebook, Apple and Google were doing this adversarial interoperability, that was progress. If you try to do it to them, that's piracy.

Try to make an alternative client for Facebook and they'll say you violated US laws like the Digital Millennium Copyright Act and EU laws like Article 6 of the EUCD.

Try to make an Android program that can run iPhone apps and play back the data from Apple's media stores and they'd bomb you until the rubble bounced.

Try to scrape all of Google and they'll nuke you until you glowed.

Tech's regulatory capture is mind-boggling. Take that law I mentioned earlier, Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act or DMCA. Bill Clinton signed it in 1998, and the EU imported it as Article 6 of the EUCD in 2001

It is a blanket prohibition on removing any kind of encryption that restricts access to a copyrighted work – things like ripping DVDs or jailbreaking a phone – with penalties of a five-year prison sentence and a $500k fine for a first offense.

This law has been so broadened that it can be used to imprison creators for granting access to their own creations

Here's how that works: In 2008, Amazon bought Audible, an audiobook platform, in an anticompetitive acquisition. Today, Audible is a monopolist with more than 90% of the audiobook market. Audible requires that all creators on their platform sell with Amazon's "digital rights management," which locks it to Amazon's apps.

So say I write a book, then I read it into a mic, then I pay a director and an engineer thousands of dollars to turn that into an audiobook, and sell it to you on the monopoly platform, Audible, that controls more than 90% of the market.

If I later decide to leave Amazon and want to let you come with me to a rival platform, I am out of luck. If I supply you with a tool to remove Amazon's encryption from my audiobook, so you can play it in another app, I commit a felony, punishable by a 5-year sentence and a half-million-dollar fine, for a first offense.

That's a stiffer penalty than you would face if you simply pirated the audiobook from a torrent site. But it's also harsher than the punishment you'd get for shoplifting the audiobook on CD from a truck-stop. It's harsher than the sentence you'd get for hijacking the truck that delivered the CD.

So think of our ad-blockers again. 50% of web users are running ad-blockers. 0% of app users are running ad-blockers, because adding a blocker to an app requires that you first remove its encryption, and that's a felony (Jay Freeman calls this 'felony contempt of business-model').

So when someone in a board-room says, 'let's make our ads 20% more obnoxious and get a 2% revenue increase,' no one objects that this might prompt users to google, 'how do I block ads?' After all, the answer is, 'you can't.'

Indeed, it's more likely that someone in that board room will say, 'let's make our ads 100% more obnoxious and get a 10% revenue increase' (this is why every company wants you to install an app instead of using its website).

There's no reason that gig workers who are facing algorithmic wage discrimination couldn't install a counter-app that coordinated among all the Uber drivers to reject all jobs unless they reach a certain pay threshold.

No reason except felony contempt of business model, the threat that the toolsmiths who built that counter-app would go broke or land in prison, for violating DMCA 1201, the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, trademark, copyright, patent, contract, trade secrecy, nondisclosure and noncompete, or in other words: 'IP law.'

'IP' is just a euphemism for 'a law that lets me reach beyond the walls of my company and control the conduct of my critics, competitors and customers.' And 'app' is just a euphemism for 'a web-page wrapped enough IP to make it a felony to mod it to protect the labor, consumer and privacy rights of its user.'

We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company.

But what about that fourth constraint: workers?

For decades, tech workers' high degrees of bargaining power and vocational awe put a ceiling on enshittification. Even after the tech sector shrank to a handful of giants. Even after they captured their regulators so they could violate our consumer, privacy and labor rights. Even after they created 'felony contempt of business model' and extinguished self-help for tech users. Tech was still constrained by their workers' sense of moral injury in the face of the imperative to enshittify.

Remember when tech workers dreamed of working for a big company for a few years, before striking out on their own to start their own company that would knock that tech giant over?

Then that dream shrank to: work for a giant for a few years, quit, do a fake startup, get acqui-hired by your old employer, as a complicated way of getting a bonus and a promotion.

Then the dream shrank further: work for a tech giant for your whole life, get free kombucha and massages on Wednesdays.

And now, the dream is over. All that’s left is: work for a tech giant until they fire your ass, like those 12,000 Googlers who got fired last year six months after a stock buyback that would have paid their salaries for the next 27 years.

Workers are no longer a check on their bosses' worst impulses

Today, the response to 'I refuse to make this product worse' is, 'turn in your badge and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.'

I get that this is all a little depressing

OK, really depressing.

But hear me out! We've identified the disease. We've traced its natural history. We've identified its underlying mechanism. Now we can get to work on a cure.

There are four constraints that prevent enshittification: competition, regulation, self-help and labor.

To reverse enshittification and guard against its reemergence, we must restore and strengthen each of these.

On competition, it's actually looking pretty good. The EU, the UK, the US, Canada, Australia, Japan and China are all doing more on competition than they have in two generations. They're blocking mergers, unwinding existing ones, taking action on predatory pricing and other sleazy tactics.

Remember, in the US and Europe, we already have the laws to do this – we just stopped enforcing them in the Helmut Kohl era.

I've been fighting these fights with the Electronic Frontier Foundation for 22 years now, and I've never seen a more hopeful moment for sound, informed tech policy.

Now, the enshittifiers aren't taking this laying down. The business press can't stop talking about how stupid and old-fashioned all this stuff is. They call people like me 'hipster antitrust,' and they hate any regulator who actually does their job.

Take Lina Khan, the brilliant head of the US Federal Trade Commission, who has done more in three years on antitrust than the combined efforts of all her predecessors over the past 40 years. Rupert Murdoch's Wall Street Journal has run more than 80 editorials trashing Khan, insisting that she's an ineffectual ideologue who can't get anything done.

Sure, Rupert, that's why you ran 80 editorials about her.

Because she can't get anything done.

Even Canada is stepping up on competition. Canada! Land of the evil billionaire! From Ted Rogers, who owns the country's telecoms; to Galen Weston, who owns the country's grocery stores; to the Irvings, who basically own the entire province of New Brunswick.

Even Canada is doing something about this. Last autumn, Trudeau's government promised to update Canada's creaking competition law to finally ban 'abuse of dominance.'

I mean, wow. I guess when Galen Weston decided to engage in a criminal conspiracy to fix the price of bread – the most Les Miz-ass crime imaginable – it finally got someone's attention, eh?

Competition has a long way to go, but all over the world, competition law is seeing a massive revitalization. Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher put antitrust law in a coma in the 80s – but it's awake, it's back, and it's pissed.

What about regulation? How will we get tech companies to stop doing that one weird trick of adding 'with an app' to their crimes and escaping enforcement?

Well, here in the EU, they're starting to figure it out. This year, the Digital Markets Act and the Digital Services Act went into effect, and they let people who get screwed by tech companies go straight to the federal European courts, bypassing the toothless watchdogs in Europe's notorious corporate crime havens like Ireland.

In America, they might finally get a digital privacy law. You people have no idea how backwards US privacy law is. The last time the US Congress enacted a broadly applicable privacy law was in 1988.

The Video Privacy Protection Act makes it a crime for video-store clerks to leak your video-rental history. It was passed after a right-wing judge who was up for the Supreme Court had his rentals published in a DC newspaper. The rentals weren't even all that embarrassing!

Sure, that judge, Robert Bork, wasn't confirmed for the Supreme Court, but that was because he was a virulently racist loudmouth and a crook who served as Nixon's Solicitor General.

But Congress got the idea that their video records might be next, freaked out, and passed the VPPA.

That was the last time Americans got a big, national privacy law. Nineteen. Eighty. Eight.

It's been a minute.

And the thing is, there's a lot of people who are angry about stuff that has some nexus with America's piss-poor privacy landscape. Worried that Facebook turned Grampy into a Qanon? That Insta made your teen anorexic? That TikTok is brainwashing millennials into quoting Osama Bin Laden?

Or that cops are rolling up the identities of everyone at a Black Lives Matter protest or the Jan 6 riots by getting location data from Google?

Or that Red State Attorneys General are tracking teen girls to out-of-state abortion clinics?

Or that Black people are being discriminated against by online lending or hiring platforms?

Or that someone is making AI deepfake porn of you?

Having a federal privacy law with a private right of action – which means that individuals can sue companies that violate their privacy – would go a long way to rectifying all of these problems. There's a big coalition for that kind of privacy law.

What about self-help? That's a lot farther away, alas.

The EU's DMA will force tech companies to open up their walled gardens for interoperation. You'll be able to use Whatsapp to message people on iMessage, or quit Facebook and move to Mastodon, but still send messages to the people left behind.

But if you want to reverse-engineer one of those Big Tech products and mod it to work for you, not them, the EU's got nothing for you.

This is an area ripe for improvement, and I think the US might be the first ones to open this up.

It's certainly on-brand for the EU to be forcing tech companies to do things a certain way, while the US simply takes away tech companies' abilities to prevent others from changing how their stuff works.

My big hope here is that Stein's Law will take hold: 'Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop'

Letting companies decide how their customers must use their products is simply too tempting an invitation to mischief. HP has a whole building full of engineers thinking of new ways to lock your printer to its official ink cartridges, forcing you to spend $10,000/gallon on ink to print your boarding passes and shopping lists.

It's offensive. The only people who don't agree are the people running the monopolies in all the other industries, like the med-tech monopolists who are locking their insulin pumps to their glucose monitors, turning people with diabetes into walking inkjet printers.

Finally, there's labor. Here in Europe, there's much higher union density than in the US, which American tech barons are learning the hard way. There is nothing more satisfying in the daily news than the latest salvo by Nordic unions against that Tesla guy (Musk is the most Edison-ass Tesla guy imaginable).

But even in the USA, there's a massive surge in tech unions. Tech workers are realizing that they aren't founders in waiting. The days of free massages and facial piercings and getting to wear black tee shirts that say things your boss doesn't understand are coming to an end.

In Seattle, Amazon's tech workers walked out in sympathy with Amazon's warehouse workers, because they're all workers.

The only reason the tech workers aren't monitored by AI that notifies their managers if they visit the toilet during working hours is their rapidly dwindling bargaining power. The way things are going, Amazon programmers are going to be pissing in bottles next to their workstations (for a guy who built a penis-shaped rocket, Jeff Bezos really hates our kidneys).

We're seeing bold, muscular, global action on competition, regulation and labor, with self-help bringing up the rear. It's not a moment too soon, because the bad news is, enshittification is coming to every industry.

If it's got a networked computer in it, the people who made it can run the Darth Vader MBA playbook on it, changing the rules from moment to moment, violating your rights and then saying 'It's OK, we did it with an app.'

From Mercedes renting you your accelerator pedal by the month to Internet of Things dishwashers that lock you into proprietary dishsoap, enshittification is metastasizing into every corner of our lives.

Software doesn't eat the world, it enshittifies it

But there's a bright side to all this: if everyone is threatened by enshittification, then everyone has a stake in disenshittification.

Just as with privacy law in the US, the potential anti-enshittification coalition is massive, it's unstoppable.

The cynics among you might be skeptical that this will make a difference. After all, isn't "enshittification" the same as "capitalism"?

Well, no.

Look, I'm not going to cape for capitalism here. I'm hardly a true believer in markets as the most efficient allocators of resources and arbiters of policy – if there was ever any doubt, capitalism's total failure to grapple with the climate emergency surely erases it.

But the capitalism of 20 years ago made space for a wild and wooly internet, a space where people with disfavored views could find each other, offer mutual aid, and organize.

The capitalism of today has produced a global, digital ghost mall, filled with botshit, crapgadgets from companies with consonant-heavy brand-names, and cryptocurrency scams.

The internet isn't more important than the climate emergency, nor gender justice, racial justice, genocide, or inequality.

But the internet is the terrain we'll fight those fights on. Without a free, fair and open internet, the fight is lost before it's joined.

We can reverse the enshittification of the internet. We can halt the creeping enshittification of every digital device.

We can build a better, enshittification-resistant digital nervous system, one that is fit to coordinate the mass movements we will need to fight fascism, end genocide, and save our planet and our species.

Martin Luther King said 'It may be true that the law cannot make a man love me, but it can stop him from lynching me, and I think that's pretty important.'

And it may be true that the law can't force corporate sociopaths to conceive of you as a human being entitled to dignity and fair treatment, and not just an ambulatory wallet, a supply of gut-bacteria for the immortal colony organism that is a limited liability corporation.

But it can make that exec fear you enough to treat you fairly and afford you dignity, even if he doesn't think you deserve it.

And I think that's pretty important.

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/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel/a>

Back the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle here!

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[sunburstsoldier]

Some modern codywan fics that I just love

I have an EXTREMELY LONG fanfic recs document and I've been meaning to make a bunch of posts for ages so here's the first one!! non-explicit Modern AU Codywans in no particular order:

HOT2GO by Saerus2665 for dontbelasagnax | 32k | Mature |

Nurse Ben & firefighter Cody. Ben is a disaster in this and i love it. also bonus Bant is there!

“Hey,” Ben calls from the back. He holds up the forms, “You missed one.” Cody latches another one of the cabinets closed then turns to him. He doesn’t seem surprised to see him. “My bad,” he says simply. He comes to the back of the wagon and takes a seat, legs hanging over the side. He glances up as Ben hands over the forms and pen. “You’d think running down signatures would be a little below your list of duties” he says, in that annoyingly pointed way of his. That’s fine. Ben’s decided he’s done walking on eggshells around him. “You’d think a Fire Captain would be better at remembering to fill out forms he’s done a hundred times,” he returns, just as pointed. Cody smiles at him, a sharp glint in his eye. Or: Nurse Ben and the bad bitch firefighter he pulls by being a complete disaster

Turn it on to a new kind of bright by rolo_rulu, Saerus2665 |41k |

Cody is a hot surfer & Ben is a biologist and also a banana stand dude. Absolutely hysterically funny.

Someone rolls him over onto his back. “Hnnngh…” Ben blinks his eyes open. There’s a man looking down at him, haloed in the bright light of the sun. He has dark eyes, and handsome features, including an interesting scar on the right side of his face. A stray dark curl hangs down in the middle of his forehead. He’s beautiful, with the sunlight behind him. Ethereal. “Are—are you an angel?” Ben finds himself saying. He doesn't know if it's the heat or his poor instinctive attempt at flirting that makes him say it. The man squints at him, brow furrowing, clearly caught off guard. “Uh—are you a banana?” The mention of it brings him back into the reality of the situation: he’s trapped in a banana suit, 10 feet from the banana stand, with the object of his recent fantasies—because yes, this is indeed Hot-Surfer-Cody— looking down at him.

Charmed On The Wayside by TapeMonkey21 | 39k Teen+ |

Lawyer Cody, farmer Obi-Wan, aka Hallmark AU! So good I read it twice in two days, it is EXACTLY like the hallmark movie I never knew I wanted.

Cody Fett's perfect big-city life falls apart when his boyfriend breaks up with him, leaving him heartbroken. A visit to the small Vermont town where his brother Rex lives has him crossing paths repeatedly with Ben, the strange, charming, handsome, flannel-wearing owner of the local cider mill and orchard. Can Cody find love again amidst the fall leaves? Or, the fall Codywan Hallmark Movie we all deserve. Written for the Codywan Comfort flash event.

*The truth that once was spoken by Jimmytiberius | 40k | Mature  | Les Mis Theater AU.

Now with several sequel mini fics, a gorgeous love letter to theater and to our favorite boys. Really cool then-and-now structure.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is a well-known actor in London's West End who's just signed a contract to make his long-awaited Broadway debut as Jean Valjean in Les Miserables. There's just one small wrinkle. Broadway star Cody Fett will be playing Inspector Javert. Obi-Wan hasn't seen Cody since the summer he was nineteen, when they were in summer stock together... also in a production of Les Miserables. Their relationship ended badly. What will happen when they see each other again for the first time in nineteen years? Will they ever find a way to tell each other the truth about what happened at the end of that summer?

sourdough: flour, water, and starting over by Shortcuts_make_long_delays |19k | Teen+ | BAKERY AU. This one is very sweet!!

Did Cody need to be up at 3:50am? No, not technically. But he had graciously offered to take Fox’s Sunday morning shifts at their Uncle’s bakery. Donning Fox's red apron as part of a decade long joke, he works at the bakery as he attempts to figure out what he wants from life. The first time Obi-wan shows up to dinner at Anakin's after moving back to Coruscant, he arrives twenty minutes late with the bag of rolls in hand, and unable to stop thinking about the baker in the red apron. Fox, he's pretty sure the name tag said.

bury me beneath the tree i climbed when i was a child by stormwarnings | 33k | Teen + |

Cody is an EMT; Obi-Wan's house keeps catching fire. Absolutely hysterical setting, I love the way they raise the twins communally in this fic so much.

Obi-Wan meets Cody for the first time when his niece and nephew almost light his house on fire.  (Obi-Wan Kenobi and Cody Fett find their way into love slowly but steadily. There's broken bones, too much sooty turnout gear, late hours spent at EMT class, three kids, ten brothers and two adopted siblings, two weddings, and all number of laughs and inside jokes along the way. It's worth it, in the end. Family's always worth it.)

It's Raining, Dear by cafffine |10k | Modern AU 

This one feels like you're just catching pieces of their lives together and i love it. Leia loves rocks. Obi-Wan has anxiety. I love it.

Cody and Obi-Wan fall in love. They live together, Rex calls when he can, Anakin is just out of reach until he isn't, Luke and Leia grow up too fast, Ahsoka lives far away, the back deck needs to be fixed, life happens and it happens and it happens.

More to come !! enjoy!!

[sp0o0kylights]

No Upside-Down AU

"It's called the Creel House."

Steve groaned. Then groaned again when Dustin produced a binder full of papers, many sticking out at odd angles. He dropped it down on the counter, the thing making an audible "thunk!" 

Robin shot a look over her shoulder from where she stood, restocking the kids cartoon aisle. 

Steve had a feeling he should have volunteered to do it instead. 

"It's Halloween, Steve.” Dustin snarked, rolling his eyes dramatically. “ We're too old to go trick or treating!"

Ah yup, there was that incoming headache, the same one he got whenever Dustin stormed in with a half baked idea. 

At least this one didn’t involve tramping around tunnels and stumbling over a pack of feral dogs. 

"So you jump right from collecting candy to, what, conducting a fricken seance in a haunted house?" Steve retorted, running a hand through his hair. 

A part of him wanted to pull it, but his parents had rid him of that habit long ago. 

Dustin scoffed. "We're not conducting a seance.” He said, like that was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “We're gonna do science experiments." 

"On ghosts!” 

“Come on, Steve!” Dustin whined, his voice pitching up in the way it did when he might not get his way. That meant he’d probably already told his poor mother Steve was involved, just like he always did. 

Not that Steve couldn’t completely blame him for doing it. 

Between Will Byers getting abducted, found, thought dead, and miraculously coming back to life in the morgue, the Starcourt Mall Fire (caused by Russian experiments if you believed the rumors but what Steve personally knew to be about fifteen different OHSA violations) and the damn feral pack of rabid dogs, the parents of Hawkin’s found themselves suddenly needing to keep a much closer eye on their children.

Claudia Henderson was no exception. 

(And maybe a part of him liked Claudia. The way she tried so hard to provide for Dustin, making the most she could of his fathers absence.Steve knew they weren’t divorced, but he also never personally met the guy, and well. 

At least Claudia was still there. 

At least she was trying.) 

“Okay. Let’s say I agree to play ghost masters  for a night.” Steve said, mispronouncing Ghostbusters on purpose and enjoying the immediately shrieked correction it got him. 

“Why on earth would anyone be willing to let a bunch of teenagers into their house for the night?”

It still killed him that the kids were technically teenagers. Had been, for a hot minute.

They were even high school freshmen now and wasn’t that a trip?

Soon one of them (Steve had his bets on Max) was going to start pestering him to learn how to drive and the very thought made him want to get on his knees in front of his Beemer to beg forgiveness. 

“I promise we have permission, Steve.” Dustin pleaded, rolling the word promise across his tongue in that whined, over exaggerated way kids forever used against their older siblings.

 “We crossed our i’s and dotted our t’s on this one! It’s just an evening in a house, having fun. That’s it.” 

Steve sighed, running a hand down his face when Dustin busted out the puppy dog eyes.

“If you assholes--” He started, and winced when Dustin immediately let out a victory cry. 

Fists punched the air, Dustin jumping about as he yelled; “Yes! Steve, thank you!” 

“I didn’t say I was going to go yet!” Steve yelled after him as Dustin spun about, shouting that he was going to go tell the Party over his shoulder. 

Robin snickered at him behind the kid, which Steve immediately caught. 

“Don’t laugh too soon Buckley.” He threatened, pointing at her. “You’re coming too.” 

“Oh really?” She shot back, as Dustin flew out of Family Video, making a beeline for his bike. “How do you figure you’re going to get me involved in this one?” 

“Because you owe me for driving you to that bar in Indianapolis.” 

It was a gay bar, one Steve had heard about when one of his father’s shitty secretaries once again forgot to put the phone on hold when “trying” to transfer Steve’s call. 

(She had absolutely nothing nice to say about the bar, which was a solid recommendation in and of itself in Steve's book.) 

Not that he truly needed the ammunition. Robin was his best friend, and they loved each other-- a sappy little number he would gladly pull out if it meant he didn’t have to herd the brat pack around by himself on Halloween. 

Robin sighed dramatically, staring at the ceiling. 

“Fuck you Steve, fine.” She huffed, giving in.

“You would never.” He taunted, and then did his own stupid little mimicry of Dustin’s victory dance, just to make her laugh. 

Smiled wide when it worked. 

At least if things went sideways again, she'd be right by his side.

xXx 

“I don't recall the Creel House being a giant mansion on top of a hill.” 

Steve said it accusingly, standing at the meeting spot on Halloween, kids in costumes floating about them as they clogged up the sidewalk. 

Nancy Wheeler pursed her lips, arms crossing tightly across her chest. 

(Steve had no idea how they’d gotten her to come and frankly, hadn’t asked.) 

"It's not." She agreed.

Her eyes narrowed, zeroing in on her brother with a look that younger siblings the world over knew by heart. "And that is absolutely not the Creel House." 

"We mixed up the names, so what?” Mike waived a hand, as if by doing so he could flick away his sister’s irritation. “It's a haunted house we have permission to hang out in, on Halloween." 

“If it’s not the Creel house then how exactly do we know it’s haunted?” Jonathan muttered, hands clutching his camera. 

(Steve did know how he got involved, if Nancy was here.

Not that he mentioned that either.) 

Steve nodded in agreement, putting his hands on his hips as the kids grouped before them. 

"How exactly, did you get permission for us to stay the night again?" Robin huffed, staring up at a place that looked like it came straight out of one of Munson’s horror movies. 

“I dunno, Eddie got it.” Lucas said with a shrug, and got a collective groan from the older teens for his efforts. 

“I’m not getting arrested again.” Robin said, spinning on her heel to face Steve, eyes wide.

 “I know you guys get arrested by the Chief of Police like, every other day, but some of us do actually want to get into college and frankly, the whole experience sucked.”

“Only Steve and Jonathan have been arrested.” Nancy corrected, face now thoroughly pinched in annoyance. 

“The rest of us were just detained. That said,” She added quickly, as Mike and Dustin both went to speak at once, “Robin’s right. We learned our lesson from Starcourt, didn’t we? We are not breaking into places we are not meant to be.” 

She sounded like she was quoting something.

Knowing Nancy, she probably was. 

“Eddie has definitely been arrested.” Robin protested. 

Nancy, forever stuck on a technicality, shot her a look. “Not in the incident I know you’re referencing.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he ran.” Lucas grumbled. 

“There is no shame in running boys and girls.” The man himself said loudly, leaping out of the bushes to land right in the middle of their little huddle. “Especially from the law.” 

“Eddie!” the kids shrieked as one, their annoyance at his prior abandonment immediately replaced by all his little Hellfire Club minions trying to tackle him. 

Max and El shared a private look, the only two of the children to not swamp the metalhead, and collapsed into shared giggles. 

Freshmen. Steve thought with a groan, as Eddie dramatically fell down, playing out a very overacted death scene. God help us all. 

“Harrington, call off your brats!” Eddie howled, the tail end interrupted by a cackle of laughter as Mike and Dustin tickled him. 

“We talked about this Munson.” Steve yelled back. “When you rile them up, they’re your kids, not mine, and you get to deal with them.”  

“Damn. Down my minions, down!” Eddie tried, and got tickled harder for his efforts. 

They all wrestled for a bit more before the boys relented, Mike and Dustin red in the face with laughter while Lucas, their own budding basketball star and thus the only one to even think of exercising, helped up a panting Will. 

“Eddie, not that I trust you, because we both know I don’t,” Robin started, as Eddie jumped to his feet. “But how exactly do we have permission to be in that house?”

“I’m wounded Buckley, truly.” Eddie said, a hand going to cover his heart. He staggered backwards, head shaking as though injured. “Here I thought you were one of my best friends.”

Nancy sighed loudly, rolling both her eyes and her head back while Jonathan hid a smile behind his camera. 

“You are one of my best friends you asshole,” Robin fired back. “Which is exactly why I don’t trust you! I know you too well!” 

Eddie laughed at that. “Fair.” He reached into his pocket, bringing out  a set of keys. “I’m house-sitting the place for the weekend.” 

“Someone trusted you to watch a house like that?” Nancy said slowly, before being nudged hard by Robin. 

She winced. “I mean-”

“I know what you mean, Wheeler.” Eddie said, taking the comment in stride. “It belongs to one of the executives at the plant my uncle works at. Their first house sitter dropped out last minute and they needed someone to watch their dog.”

Here, Eddie made a face. “He has one of those crusty white things that gets seizures or some shit, the guy said his wife wouldn’t go anywhere unless she knew the dog was okay.” 

“So you're allowed to be in there then.” Nancy said tartly. “I am sure they wouldn’t appreciate-”

“You are underestimating how last minute this was.” Eddie cut her off with a twirl, keys swinging out so that they flashed dramatically. “He said, and I quote,” 

The metalhead’s voice abruptly adopted an accent that sounded like a trucker and an English  butler had a weird, upper class baby. 

“I don’t care what you do in this house tonight, Munson, as long as you don’t break anything, kill anybody, and clean it up after yourself. And for fucks sake, keep the damn dog alive.” 

Taken aback, all Nancy could do was blink. 

“This dude sounds awesome.” Dustin said, impressed. The other boys murmured their agreement, once again slowly swarming Eddie. 

Like puppies, they were.

Overexcited, hormone ridden, accident prone, trouble finding puppies. 

“Pretty sure the guy was implying I could throw a party, so forgive me if I think inviting a bunch of children, their siblings, a bank geek and their overprotective mother” that was aimed at Steve, “over for a night of trying to communicate with the deceased isn't going to be a problem.”

“Like you would throw a party anyways.” Steve snorted, the sound ugly. 

“Wow, is this gang up on Eddie night? I could damn well throw a better party than you, Steve Harrington.” Eddie raised his eyebrows, taunting. 

King Steve was of course, a boy long left in the past, but a part of him, that competitive part who was very good at keg stands, rose to the challenge. 

“Is that so?” He said, standing up from his “mother hen slouch” as Eddie himself called it, to his full height. He took a step forward, made sure it radiated some of that past swagger he’d been so known for. “I’ll take that bet.” 

“Can you guys have a pissing match later?” Robin asked, ignoring the way Nancy winced at her choice of words. 

“Yeah!” Mike shouted, abruptly snatching the keys from Eddie’s waving hand and ignoring the shorter teen’s outraged “Hey!” 

“Come on, let’s go already!” He huffed, racing off. 

“Why did that asshole have to grow so tall?” Eddie complained, as the younger teens flew past him. Even Max and El took off, though they at least paused to shrug at Steve with twin smiles before they ran past. 

“I seriously hope this really is ok Eddie.” Robin said, worrying her lip anxiously as the older teens started the climb up to the front door, a trek that somehow took two different sets of steep stairs. “I meant it about getting arrested.”

“Chill Robs.” The metalhead assured her, knocking his shoulder into hers as he and Steve flanked her sides, Jonathan and Nancy trailing behind. 

“El’s here, so it’s not like good ol’ Chief Hopper doesn’t know what we’re doing.” 

“He knew what we were doing last time.” 

“No, he knew whatever lie Mike told him so he could sneak El around. That’s why the kid’s on his shit list.” Eddie corrected.

Robin sighed, defeated. “God you can be just as annoying as Nance, you know that?”

“Excuse me?” Nancy said, from behind, eyes popping wide and startelement. 

Jonathan hid his chuckle into a cough when she shot him a furious glance but Steve, now two years past being her ex, had no issues letting her see his amusement. 

“Sorry Nancy, but she’s not wrong.” He called teasingly. “You gotta get that need to correct people under control.” 

Then bolted past his friends as Nancy spat out his full name like a curse, offended, before quickening her pace to catch him. 

Laughing, Eddie and Robin took up the chase, leaving Jonathan to shake his head. 

“I am not running with this camera!” He yelled at them, cradling his baby and following at a far more sedate pace. 

“Your fault if we lock you out!” Steve called back, but the threat was empty. 

He and Jonathan had fixed their shit, those same two years ago. They were good now, even close, sometimes.

Not as close as he was to Eddie and Robin, but close enough to hang out with the kids on Halloween and enjoy it.  

‘A family.’ Eddie had called it, while he and Steve recovered in the hospital not even six full months ago, from a shenanigan neither of them talked about in front of Robin for fear she’d put them right back in the ER. 

‘We found ourselves a proper family. Good for holidays and everything.’ 

He’d had a stupid little grin on his face when he’d said it. 

‘How about next time we don’t almost die finding one.’ Steve had countered, and  then grinned smugly when Eddie’s protest just ended up making his injuries hurt. 

“You’re both dumb.” Jonathan had said at the time, their sole witness and ride out of there, soft smile he almost never let out on his face. 

“Screw you Byers, you were in California for this one!” Steve complained, and well, it had devolved into silly, amusing arguments from there but the point was still the same.

A family they were, the whole lot of them. 

xXx 

“Oh my god this place is huge.” Robin muttered, spinning about in the entryway. 

“That’s capitalism for ya, baby.” 

“We should split up, that way we can find the perfect room.” Dustin announced, shuffling his bulging backpack up as it once again tried to drag him to the floor. 

“You weren’t serious about the ghost stuff, were you?” Steve groaned.

He didn’t know why he did--Dustin never joked about this kind of shit. 

“We have an opportunity, Steven. I’m not wasting it!” 

“Fine then. Go run around like a lunatic and find me when you found your stupid perfect room.” 

“Weren’t you the one bitching about splitting up last time?” Eddie teased, playfully poking at Dustin’s back and trying to get him off balance. 

“Yeah, in an actual situation.” Steve countered, as the kids paired off, Lucas and Mike losing their preferred partners to each other, the girls not looking sorry for it. “Not playing pretend.” 

“Is that what we’re doing? Playing pretend?” Eddie moved his head so that for the briefest of seconds, his nose ghosted right past Steve’s cheek. 

Steve, more than used to Eddie having no personal space, didn’t even flinch. 

“With the whole summoning ghosts bit? Absolutely.” He clarified with his own secretive smile.  

Because Munson often spoke in riddles, had dual meanings to every word-and for once Steve had started to catch on.

Had even started to play around back. 

It may have taken him a hot minute to do so, but sitting on the knowledge that there was a chance Eddie Munson was actually, seriously, intentionally flirting with him had made the world rearrange itself a bit. 

Steve honestly wasn’t certain he was comfortable with what it meant in regards to himself--but he knew he found Eddie hot. 

More than that--they were like two halves of something, working and bouncing off each other in a way only those who were very close could. 

(“Two halves of a whole idiot.” Robin had said when Steve had first broached the topic.

Steve had licked a finger and stuck it in her ear in retaliation.) 

The guy part, Steve found once he’d thought on it, didn’t bother him as much as it once would have. What made him hesitate wasn’t that, or even how quickly his discovery had led to him having fucking wet dreams of Eddie Munson.

No, it was everything else.

Namely, the dad he’d already disappointed, but also all the other crap that came with living in a small town, and being relied upon by a lot of parents as their kids' de facto elder sibling. 

If Steve came out, openly came out…

People had been shitty enough to Eddie, in high school. Steve had even been one of those shitty people. He knew how they thought, what they could and would do. 

Egging, graffiti, getting your ass kicked in an allyway, and barred from establishments was all just the start of it, for someone who hadn’t even admitted to being gay. 

He’d about convinced himself to ignore it. He liked girls anyway, was one of the lucky ones, as Robin loved to put it, whose brain and general being didn’t care too much about his partner’s gender. 

“It at least gives you a shot to fall in love with the person you’re “supposed” to.” She’d said, drunk off her ass and wobbly as she made air quotes with her hands. 

Steve couldn’t blame her for it. Not now, when he finally understood the consequences of dating that other person. 

The one you weren’t supposed to. 

Then came that damn bar in Indianapolis. The bartender with the earring who’d shot him an appreciative glance and Steve hadn’t even had to think about it-he’d just, winked. 

Ended up with a free drink.

Made out a little at the back of the bar on the guy’s break and sure, it hadn’t gone farther than that but it was enough.

 To know.

To want. 

How Robin hadn’t caught him on that one was a miracle, but he didn’t want to ruin things. A part of him knew she was graduating soon-her, Nancy, Jonathan and Eddie, if they could finally drag him through Mrs. Click’s class. 

 They could all move, if they wanted to, after that.  

He was happy to follow them wherever they wanted to go, and knew the first three were trying to get into the same colleges. He also knew he wouldn’t have problems dragging Eddie along for the ride. 

If anything the guy was itching to get out faster than any of them. 

Laughter suddenly rang down the halls, interrupting him from his too loud thoughts. 

Steve smiled at it, knowing he damn well couldn’t abandon the kids. 

“You alright?” Jonathan asked, his voice too quiet as always, having come up on Steve’s left side. 

The guy just didn’t relax anymore unless he was high. 

Steve made a mental note to ask Eddie if he’d brought anything after the kids had managed to go to sleep-or at the very least, tire themselves out enough to be corralled in one room. Then the adults could go have their fun. 

Something he knew Jonathan desperately needed. 

“Yeah, just thinking.” Steve said back. 

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Jonathan responded, then cracked a smile when Steve playfully threw his shoulder at him. 

“Earth to Harrington!” Eddie called, and Steve blinked, because the guy had suddenly teleported from right near him to across the sprawling entryway entirely. “If you and Johnny Boy are done talking, I say we to go explore the basement. Together.” 

Eddie clapped his hands, to emphasize the last word. 

Jonathan shook his head, but Steve just sent his friend a conspiratorial wink, before putting on the most harassed sitcom-husband voice he could, yelling back “Coming, honey!” 

Eddie, who had started to turn, almost tripped at the words, long legs tangling together and getting an honest to god laugh out of Jonathan. 

Steve snickered right along with him, before trotting over to save his idiot friend from himself. 

“Come on Munson, let’s go be the stupid people who die first in all the horror movies.” He said, opening the door and trotting down the rickety, wooden steps. 

A pressure at his back, Munson crowding him as he followed. 

“If we wanna be the people who die first, then we have to sneak away to have sex.” Eddie murmured, hair ticking the back of Steve’s neck.

Steve grinned as the sound of the basement door swinging shut followed. 

The sudden silence and lack of light was just the courage he needed to blurt out, “Well if that’s on the table, then I’d absolutely rather die like that.” 

The breath Eddie sucked in was a high he could ride for days, Steve decided, as he carefully made it to the bottom of the stairs. went about feeling for the lights.

Being flirted with by Eddie was one thing but flirting back?

Steve had never been on a better power trip.

[bimbo-academy]

Bimbo Academy: Orientation Day

Please enjoy the first chapter of my first ever hypno story, Bimbo Academy!

Warning! This chapter has an induction with no awakener. If you're easily susceptible to that, I would not recommend reading this story.

The induction will be listed in pink.

Dialogue will be written in purple.

I hope you all enjoy!

“Deidre, could you come in here please?” 

Deidre hurried into her technical boss's office. 

For most people, this would be a terrifying ordeal. Their mind might run wild with possibilities of what was about to happen. Were they about to be fired? Demoted? Or worse, given extra tasks without the higher pay? 

But being the daughter of the CEO, Diedre didn’t have to worry about any of that. 

Diedre’s father had wanted to give her the company outright when she had first graduated college. She was supposed to be COO until her father was ready to retire, when she would then properly take over. 

But Deidre had insisted she start at the bottom. She wanted to rise the ranks on her own. Earn her way to the top instead of taking it like some sort of nepo baby. 

So far, she thought she had been doing a great job. 

She hoped her boss would agree. 

Deidre had been working at the office for six months. Hopefully, her boss was calling her in to discuss giving her a good performance review. 

“Yes, Miss Kathryn?” 

“Ah, Deidre. Please, sit.” 

Deidre quickly obeyed. She smoothed out her skirt and crossed her ankles, so she wouldn’t show Miss Kathryn anything inappropriate. 

“Deidre, let me start out by saying you’ve been doing a wonderful job in this position. You’re one of my hardest workers. You always get your work completed on time. You’re well organized, punctual, and professional.”

“Thank you, Miss Kathryn.” 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and shared all of that with HR, and your father.” Miss Kathryn pulled out some papers and set them in front of her. “Your father, of course, was ecstatic. We had a small meeting, and we both thought it was high time to present you with a… special opportunity.”

Deidre nodded. Her father hadn’t said anything to her about this, but maybe he had wanted to make sure it went through the proper channels. 

“Have you ever heard of Brainbow Academy?”

Deidre shook her head. 

“Please, use your words Deidre.”

“I apologize. No, Miss Kathryn. I’ve never heard of it.” 

“It's a highly prestigious four month program. I believe one of your stepmothers went to it?”

Deidre wanted to laugh, but retained a professional composure. Most of her step-mothers were brain dead bimbos. She almost didn’t understand what her father saw in them. But he constantly told her that after her mother, and first stepmother, he couldn’t bear to lose another woman he truly loved. But then why would he want to go on to marry three more women, only to divorce them a few months later? At least her latest step mother had stuck around. She had to admit, Lana was secretly her favorite of her fathers recent wives. 

“Your father and I both think it would be an excellent idea for you to attend. Of course, it's ultimately up to you. But here’s the paperwork. Think about it over the weekend and get back to me, won’t you?” 

Deidre nodded and took the paperwork. “Thank you, Miss Kathryn.”

“Of course, Deidre. You may return to your duties now.” 

Deidre slid the papers into her messenger bag, and quickly returned to her work. 

…

That night, Deidre returned to the home she shared with her father, half brother, and their step mom, Lana. 

“Another day at the office?” Tommy, her half brother, asked. 

Deidre snorted. “Another day of doing nothing?”

“Hey! I do a lot of things! My influencer kingdom doesn’t run itself!”

Deidre rolled her eyes. Sure, her younger brother did have successful social media pages. But other than that he spent most of his days screwing around playing video games. Or screwing around with other guys. 

“Oh please. I bet all you did today was take a shirtless selfie and eat some pizza.”

“I had breadsticks too!” 

“Uh huh. I’m sure that was so strenuous for you.” 

Tommy playfully gives her the middle finger, then Lana called them down for dinner. 

They both trotted down the stairs and into the dining room. 

“There’s my wonderful family.” Deidre ignored her father grabbing Lana’s ass before sitting down for dinner. “How was everyone’s day?” 

“Good.” Deidre also ignored the Grindr notification going off on her brother’s phone. “Might have someone over tonight if that’s cool.”

“Of course. Just change the gate code when they leave.”

“Awesome. Thanks dad.”

“Of course. Deidre? How was your day? I heard you had a little meeting with Miss Kathryn.”

Deidre nodded. “Yeah. She recommended some sort of program I should attend?”

“Oh yes. Brainbow Academy. Lana actually did that program, didn’t you sweetheart?”

“Mhm!” 

Her father chuckled and kissed Lana’s hand. “I would love it if you attended Deidre. I think it would be extremely helpful for your future running the company. But of course, it’s all up to you.”

“I think I want to go. Although, I’m just confused about this one part of the paperwork? The ‘I consent to allowing Brainbow Academy to alter me in any way, whether it be physically, mentally, or spiritually?” 

“Oh, that just means they want to try and change your mindset! They also have some classes about how to dress more… professionally. That’s truly all it means.”

“Alright then. I suppose I’ll do it. I mean, I already know about most of that stuff, right?”

“Absolutely.”

After dinner, Deidre went back to her room, and officially signed the papers. 

…

A week later, Deidre arrived at her dormitory for Brainbow Academy. 

“Oh… interesting.” 

The dorm room was… unusual to say the least. There were two beds, but they were much larger than any other dorm bed she had ever slept in. They seemed much more comfortable than regular dorm beds as well. There also seemed to be much more storage than a typical dorm room. There was a large display cabinet, a desk with multiple drawers, and the nightstand drawers were the largest Deidre had ever seen. 

Well, it was an exclusive academy. Deidre was one of only twelve students that had been accepted for this semester. She knew it was only on recommendation from her father, Lana, and Miss Kathryn, especially since she had applied so close to the deadline. 

“Oh, wow,” 

She turned around and saw a young man, about her age, standing in the doorway. 

“I know, right? It's unusual to say the least.”

“It certainly is.” The young man set down his one box. “I’m Trevor. I guess we’re going to be roommates?” 

“Deidre. Do you need any help with the rest of your stuff?”

“Oh, uh… no. This, this is all I have.” 

“Oh! I’m, I’m sorry-I,’

“No no, it's ok.” Trevor sat down on his bed. “I’m just a light traveler I suppose.” 

Deidre nodded. She could tell something was weighing on Trevor's mind, but she didn’t want to press so early into their relationship. 

“We should unpack as much as we can. Orientation starts in half an hour.” He said. 

The two chit-chatted as they unpacked, Deidre’s things filling the room where Trevor’s was lacking. They were laughing together by the time they entered the lecture hall, which was more like a high school gym than anything else. They went to sit down next to each other, before someone grabbed the back of Deidre’s collar and pulled her back.

“Sorry, I want the end seat.” 

A bottle blonde girl sauntered to the other end. Diedre heard Trevor mutter ‘bitch’ underneath his breath. She playfully smacked him.

“Ouch! What was that for? It’s true!” 

Deidre rolled her eyes. They sat down a few seats away from the bottle blonde and watched the others file in. Deidre noticed that Trevor was the only boy present. She hoped it wouldn’t be too awkward for him. 

“Welcome students, welcome, welcome!” An older gentleman took the stage in front of them. “Welcome everyone. My name is Master Layton. Thank you all for joining us here. Now, I do want to apologise. I fear a lot of you have been misled about what it is we do here.” Master Layton held a small remote in his hand. He pressed a button, and small pieces of metal shot out of the seats, trapping everyone’s arms against their seats. 

“What the hell?” Deidre said. 

“I would now like to introduce my most lovely assistants, Bree and Gracie. Ladies?”

Two scantily clad women joined the man on stage. He pressed another button on his remote and a screen slowly descended from the ceiling. 

“Bree, Gracie, and I are going to be your professors for this semester. Of course we will have a few guest speakers come in, but for the most part you will be under our care.” 

The woman descended from the stage, and Deidre noticed they were each holding six pairs of headphones. 

“I also apologize for this rapid induction, but over the years I’ve found that it works best with large groups of people. Wouldn’t you agree, ladies?”

“Yes Master.”

The women spoke in an eerie harmony. Deidre had been struggling against the restraints, but now noticed Trevor had been perfectly still. 

“Trevor? Do you know what’s going on?” 

Trevor closed his eyes as one of the women placed a pair of headphones over his ears. He seemed… relieved?

Deidre didn’t understand. 

“Trevor? Trevor, no! No don't you dare put those on me! I dont con-”

The woman laughed, cutting her off. “But you already consented! You signed the papers, remember silly?”

Shit. Shit shit shit. 

She continued to struggle as the woman placed headphones over her ears. Master Layton pressed another button on his remote, and caused a black and white spiral to flicker to life on the screen. 

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’

The voice coming through the headphones startled her. 

“What the hell is going on?”

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’ 

She looked all around. But for some reason, her eyes kept continuing to land on the spiral.

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’ 

Deidre continued to struggle against her restraints.

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’ 

She tried to get the headphones off, to no avail. 

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’ 

She tried to close her eyes. But somehow, she still saw the spiral. 

“I am a good boy. I will obey my master.”

She opened her eyes again. The voice hadn’t come from her headphones. 

“I am a good boy. I will obey my master.” 

The two ladies came and released Trevor from his bonds. They led him through a new door Deidre hadn’t noticed coming in. 

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’ 

Fuck. 

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.‘

One by one, more of the women in the room began to repeat the mantra. 

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’ 

One by one, they were led out of the room.

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’

Soon it was just Deidre and the bottle blonde bitch. 

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’ 

“Shhh, its ok.” One of the women came and started petting Deidre’s hair. 

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’

“Just give in. It’ll be so much better.”

No no no no no-

“You’re a good girl. You will obey our master.” The woman held her head, and forced her to look at the spiral.

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’

“I am a good girl. I will obey my master.”

Deidre didn’t even notice when the words came out of her mouth. 

“Good girl. Just a few more minutes now.”

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’

“I am a good girl. I will obey my master.”

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’

“I am a good girl. I will obey my master.”

‘I am a good girl. I will obey my master.’

“I am a good girl. I will obey my master.”

“I am a good girl. I will obey my master.”

“I am a good girl. I will obey my master.” 

The women finally released Deidre from her bonds and took her through the door. 

“Good, good. Very good.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Master took Deidre’s head in his hands. 

“You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you Dee?”

“Yes Master.”

Master kissed Dee’s forehead. 

“Good girl. Sleep now.”

Dee slumped over in the women’s arms.

[marvelslut16]

Field Day

Prompt number: 27 "Let me remind you"

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Teacher!Bucky x teacher!reader (no use of y/n)

Rating: T(een)

Word count: 1.1k+

Warnings: Swearing, a stupid hr policy based off a policy at one of my jobs, a horny woman at work, I think that's it.

A/N: Hi, hello, it's been ages since I posted a fic, and this is 2 days late late. I really really want to participate again this year, but I have 2 jobs now and I have some other important things happening this month, so I won't have much time to write. But without further ado, here is day 1!

“Let me remind you that we aren’t allowed to date coworkers,” you sigh, as Peggy tells you that you should finally give into your work crush and go on a date with Bucky.

Bucky is the sweetest soul you have ever met, he’s a little shy but once he warms up to you he’s just a giant teddy bear who will do whatever he can to make your life easier. He’s been your work crush for about a year now, when he switched from second to fourth grade, the grade you teach. Now you have department meetings together, teach science labs together, and go on field trips together. His sweet personality and the forced proximity made it impossible not to develop a work crush on him.

“Technically we can date coworkers, it’s just frowned upon,” Peggy tries to play devil’s advocate, hoping that her friends will finally get over themselves and go on a date. 

“Oh yes, Bucky and I can date so long as we report it to HR the moment we go on a date, and they can still decide to fire one or both of us,” you roll your eyes and give your best friend a look before turning back to the playground to watch the kids. “Isn’t that why you waited to start dating Steve until he went to teach at the military academy.”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Peggy giggles, just as Bucky lets his kids out his classroom door to join yours and Peggy’s for field day. 

“What are you two gals talking about,” Bucky saunters over to where you're standing near enough to the playground to see the kids, but far enough from them that they can’t hear what you're saying. 

“I was telling her that she should start packing her lunch instead of going out on Wednesday and Friday, much healthier. And obviously, she called me on the fact that Steve sends me lunch from restaurants most of the week,” Peggy smoothly lies. It’s a decent enough fib, but if you were Bucky you wouldn’t believe her. 

So where did you end up getting stuck for field day?” you ask Bucky, he was sick the day of sign ups no doubt being stuck with the worst job. 

“The dunk tank, damn Stevie leaving the school and leaving me with this stupid job,” Steve always volunteered to do the dunk tank, and now that he’s gone the entire staff quickly snapped up every other position. “What do you have this year?”

“The inflatable obstacle course,” you grin widely, you’d been petitioning the PTA to allocate funds to rent one for field day for the past three years now.

“I told you you could convince those parents to let you rent one, and the kids are going to love it!” you can’t help but blush at his praise. 

“Third times the charm,” you give him a small bashful smile.

“I’m in charge of dodgeball in the gym,” Peggy cuts in, reminding you that you aren’t alone and have an audience of almost a hundred kids as more classes spill out of their rooms.  

Soon enough the three of you go your separate ways and get field day started. Like every year, the day flies with minimal complaining from the kids, lots of laughing, and just a few scrapes and bruises. The kids all loved your addition to the course this year, all cheering in excitement when they get to your station. Before you know it your class is back at your station and field day is wrapping up, so you take the kids to the refreshments table to grap a dixie cup off gatorade and a cookie. 

“Oh dear god,” you murmur under your breath, catching Peggy’s attention as she walks up to the table with her class. 

Bucky’s also walking up to the refreshment table sopping wet, black t-shirt and basketball shorts clinging to his rock hard physique. Bucky is an attractive man, anyone who disagreed was either lying or blind, so this wasn’t a new revelation to you by any means. But knowing he has abs is one thing, but seeing his shirt clinging to them is a completely different one. Your heart starts to hammer harder and harder the closer he gets to you, damn Peggy had to get in your head about your crush earlier and you’re on the edge of  throwing caution to the wind, and yourself at him. 

“What were those rules again,” Peggy whispers, giggling in your ear. 

“Can’t remember,” your voice trails off just like your thoughts. It’s unreal and unfair that Bucky could be as nice and as drop dead gorgeous as he is. No man could ever live up to him, and you pity everyone that dares to try. 

“Only one person dunked me, and it was one of yours,” Bucky says gruffly, the twinkling in his eyes gives away his humor and pride in the student.

“One of mine?” you grin from ear to ear, your own pride showing at your student. One of your little fourth headers was able to dunk him, when the older kids couldn’t. “Who was it?”

“Me!” Brayden, your secret favorite student, hollers from behind you.

“Way to go Brayden!” you exclaim, the rest of your class cheering as you give him a high five. 

“It was hilarious,” Luke, one of Bucky’s students pipes up. “We were at the human wheelbarrow station next to the dunk tank and we saw everything! One minute he was on the seat, and the next he was coming up from the water coughing on it.” 

“Are you okay, Mr. Barnes?” you giggle, turning to look at him. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes on his, something the other female staff aren’t doing themselves. 

“I will be, once my ego heals,” your two classes laughing at his joke. 

“Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? I’m making my chili that you love so much,” you ask Bucky when the kids are out of hearing range. Peggy stares at you wide eyed, it’s like she can hear your inner monologue, in awe of your bravery and taking this chance. 

“I would love to,” Bucky has a soft smile on his face, like he’s sensing that everything is about to change for the better. Fuck HR, and fuck this job if it keeps you from being happy and with the man of your dreams. As long as you have Bucky everything will be okay, and you’ll both land on your feet eventually, even if it means finding a new district. 

[willows-writings]

‼️This post is part of a choose your own adventure series and is not meant to be read stand-alone. Click HERE to go to the masterlist and Chapter beginnings‼️

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Question the group?

Prologue

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"Wait what are we talking about?"

Everyone's attention suddenly snaps to you as you mumble out words, no one thought you were anywhere near sober enough to hear them.

Mike, ever the leader, speaks first "Nothing y/n go to bed."

"No don't brush me off I wanna know!" You huff and Sam has to adjust her grip on you.

Jess rolls her eyes and walks closer to you "Look y/n all you need to know is we're playing a little prank on Hannah, she's been trying to get with Mike and needs to be taught a lesson."

You frown "But that's mean, Hannah- Hannah invited us all up here, this is her place, we gotta be nice invitees." your eyes are starting to slip close and more and more weight is being leaned onto Sam.

Ashley steps forward now "Technically it was Josh who invited us, but anyways it's nothing bad, just a small little prank." She smiles at you in a way that reassures your drunken mind.

You giggle, "Okk then, I'll help her dye all your teeth blue later in revenge." You are humored by your own joke and start giggling and laughing more.

Sam lets out a sigh and starts to drag you away. "Bye guys, I hope you make the right decision."

You close your eyes and lean againist Sam trusting her to take you somewhere as the world spins beneath your eyelids. By the time you open then again you are in a room lit by a fire that you can see Beth standing by and a couch in front of it that holds your boyfriend.

"Joshhhh" you break off from Sam and stumble to the couch, nearly tripping over the edge of it before flopping down on top of the man already laying there.

"Y/n babyyy my gorgeous amazing other half." His words were also slurred and his arms clumsily come up to curl around you tightly as he buries his face in your hair. You giggle and turn your face towards the fire to find Beth looking at the two of you fondly.

"Hiii Elizabeth, Bethy, my lovely friend." You reach the hand closest out to her and she takes it and gives it a little squeeze.

"Hi y/n. Partied hard?" She's smiling in a way that says she's already taken pictures of the scene to use as blackmail later on.

"Ugh yes, and just give me like thirty minutes and I will be ready to party again." As you say this your eyes drift further closed and you feel yourself relaxing more and more into Josh.

"Mhm sure." She snorts and lets go of your hand which you wrap around Josh. "Sleep well y/n, we can party tomorrow night."

You hum contently and close your eyes. You nestle your face into the crook of Josh's neck and settle further into your comfy human pillow. Between the heat of your boyfriend and the fire, you find yourself drifting off to sleep to the quiet crackle of wood, and breathing of Josh in minutes.

ʚїɞ

The way you wake up isn't quiet.

Instead of soft fire glow it's harsh red and blue lights. Instead of soft breathing it's loud voices and the crackle of walkie-talkies.

Those sounds stay for weeks until suddenly it's quiet. Quiet as in feelings of regret and grief. Quiet as in sobbing over a closed case and two graves.

You think you prefer the sirens.

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End of Prologue

Chapter 1

OBaC Masterlist

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Prologue is finished! Sorry if this isn't accurate to how you personally would act drunk. Featuring a little fluffy moment with Josh and Beth before the bad stuff. :( Did all the talk of seeing Hannah and Beth later make you sad hehe. I felt evil putting that in.

Anyways I'm putting the text for the beginning of Chapter 1 above but I need to rewatch some of the game first so I can write everything accurately. It will be linked when it's done which will most likely be later this week or early next week!! As always likes, reblogs and comments are appriciated!

[axelsagewrites]

Roy Kent*Charitiy

Pairing: Roy Kent x reader

Word count: 1535

Warnings: Rupert existing and Roy being Roy

Masterlist here

Ever since last year when Rupert crashed annual charity ball and donated a butt load of money to steal her thunder, she was determined to make this year's even better. It was odd to you that someone donating so much to a good cause was grounds for revenge but then again, you'd met Rupert. He really was the worst. 

She'd gone all out this year, making sure she lined up at least 3 famous performers that equally hated Rupert and inviting everyone who was anyone. You were automatically on the list as her assistant but and also as Roy's plus one. It was at last year’s ball that Roy ended up walking you home from and kissing you in your doorway. Cut to this year and you were now in a semi-secret committed relationship with Richmond’s newest coach. You had both decided not to share to the press and after much convincing Roy let you tell Rebecca and the team.

One of the nights biggest earners was of course the charity auction. Roy had refused at least 19 times to do it but eventually with enough eyelash batting and promises of favours you'd convinced him to sign up. All the boys had signed up, even Will was forced to sign up.

To make things even more bizarre Rebecca herself was being auctioned. Though you as her assistant had also hired someone to come bid on her so she'd never have to have the date but still she was technically on the roster. What you hadn't expected was for her to turn to you with puppy dog eyes. 

"We need more women on the list. Cmon, you know how it is. Think of the children,"

Roy was more outrage you had said yes than the fact he had been convinced to do it as well. You however were sure that it would be fine. After all people were there to bet on the footballers to play a game with their kid or show off to their friends or whatever other questionable activities they had planned. Not some assistant. 

What you hadn't accounted for was that you were no longer just an assistant. Not only did you often appear in pictures with the team, but rumours floated around that you were dating at least one if not multiple of the boys. Between always being around famous footballers or the fact Keeley Jones was your best friend you’d forgotten people actually knew who you were now.

The night was fine to begin and halfway through the auction Rebecca had already hit the same record as last year but that was not going to stop her. Danni had gone for £5000, Sam for £6000, Keeley for £10,000. Yes, even Keeley had donated one of her Friday nights to Rebecca's cause.

Roy had practically begged you that if the old lady who won him last year was going to win that you steal the win and he'd give you the money so sure as fate you had just won a night with your boyfriend for £8000. This was only going to fuel the fires in the tabloids, but it was worth saving Roy another painful night with a toothless granny.

"Up next we have my dear, dear friend who many of you will recognise as the teams shadow. Come on up"(y/n)," Rebecca said, clapping as you walked up with an awkward smile.

" Can we start the bidding at £500?" You thought this would be over and done with in less than a couple minutes.

"Five thousand pounds," Ruperts voice came booming from the back of the room followed by the sound of Roy’s chair scrapping against the floor as he stood up, "Forgive me for being so late my dear Rebecca. A family emergency kept me away, but I couldn't miss this for the world," he said gesturing to the crowd who gave him a round of applause he didn’t deserve, “After all it is for the children,”

For once Rebecca stammered for words before finally stuttering out "Yes well thank you Rupert. Do I hear six?"

"Ten thousand," Roy boomed across the room. Small gasps left several tables as you stood, eyes bulging out at the moment happening. You’d got to witness the bidding war that went for Jamie last year with Keeley spending twenty-five grand, but you knew that both Rupert and Roy were far more stubborn. this could go for a while.

"This isn't how auctions exactly work boys-" Rebecca tried to cut in, knowing how stubborn Rupert was and how violent Roy could get, but to no avail. she looked at you with a sympathetic glance as the carnage began.

"fifteen thousand," Rupert said, walking to stand by Roy's table, his wife a few paces behind standing awkwardly. 

"twenty,"

"thirty,"

"thirty-five-" you heard Jamie's voice pipe up followed by a loud growl from Roy who was glaring daggers in the previously laughing boy, "withdrawn!" Jamie yelped as he shuffled his chair towards Keeley. you almost felt bad for Jamie as you tried not to laugh.

"forty-five," Roy yelled before turning to Rupert, whispering something in his ear as he went to say fifty.

You could practically see Ruperts sweat dripping down his forehead as Roy pulled away, a satisfied smirk on his face, "Hard to beat that," Rupert smiled as he carefully stepped away from Roy, slowly moving back to his wife, “I withdraw,” Rupert said before pulling his wife to go join some random table filled with old white men.

"Forty-five going once, twice," Rebecca said as she scrambled to grab her gavel, "sold to Mr Kent. What a generous donation, everyone let's give him a round of applause," Rebecca said as she started the claps as everyone followed suit to try mask the awkward tension. “Always such a generous soul,”

You gave Rebecca a sorry smile as you walked back down to Roy, wondering how you’d explain this to the tabloids, but Roy had other plans. As you walked up to him, ready to quietly thank him, Roy stepped forward, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into his chest. The kiss was brief, but it knocked the wind out your lungs and left you wishing you had a private room as whoops and hollers came from the room around. You pulled back, breathless and grinning like an idiot. 

"Just to be clear that isn't included in the final sale," Rebecca said from the stand, trying to avoid lawsuits and trying desperately not to laugh since the auction still had its final prize left, Jamie.

"What did you say to him?" you asked, as you finally say back down, hand in hand with Roy. 

"I told him I knew where he lived and enough people to hold him down if he didn't back off what's mine, “Roy said as cool as a cucumber as if he didn't just threaten to beat a multi-millionaire, possibly billionaire at this point. "Plus, I said I'd tell his wife about you know who," 

This however caught your, Keeley’s, and Jamie's attention, "Who's you know who?" Keeley ask as you all three leaned in for the dirt. 

"Fuck knows," Roy barked making you all look at each other confused, "once a scumbag always a scumbag. There's probably some poor girl out there he’s fucked I just don't know which one," 

The three of you began to cackle as Rebecca announced her last prize of the night. “Time to shine,” Jamie said as he got up, running a hand through his hair before jogging up to join Rebecca on stage. His cocky joy went from pale faced terror when the woman who won Roy last year won him this year but for £9000. Jamie returned to the table, no pep in his step or swagger in his walk as he sunk down into his chair, “Why did you save me?” he whispered in betrayal.

“I’m not your girlfriend anymore, remember,” Keeley teased as she sat back in her chair, “Call us even for last year babes,”

Jamie turned from Keeley to you and Roy, looking like a kicked puppy, “Roy?”

“Mate I’ve just spent 50 grand tonight. go fuck yourself,” Roy said before what was left of his drink.

“It’s for children Roy,” Jamie said as he sulked back into his chair.

“Fuck the children,” Roy said with no hesitation, “I’ve just bought them a really fucking nice orphanage to stop some old prick touching my bird,”

you couldn’t help but laugh at how Jamie pouted in his seat, trying to avoid the old woman’s little waves. “You do release your little stunt means we need to do press now?” you said, glancing up to a now groaning Roy.

“Already on its babes,” Keeley said from where she sat on her phone, “I’ve been waiting for this for months. knew you two wouldn’t go for my soft launch option,”

“Fucks a soft launch?” Roy said, confusing racking his face as he turned to you.

you patted his arm and shook your head, “You just let me and Keels deal with this yeah?”

Roy sighed as he sat back in his chair shaking his head, “I fucking hate charity,”

[hummingbee-lievable]

Song of the Day #24:

'Mile Magnificent' by Molly OfGeography (released 2019).

An apartment when it's empty echoes lovely, bright and clean

Sing odes to green-blue water that we stole so it comes free

All things end, it's part of living; forest fires feed the trees

Lift your glasses full of sunshine, sing a toast to gasoline

Track #4 on 'Myths'.

Fun fact: Molly refers to this song as 'The Song My Producer Said I Was Not Allowed To Name “CHICAGO IS BETTER THAN NEW YORK”'.* Honestly, her descriptions for some of the songs on this album are hilarious:

'1) The Song That Made My Producer Go, “Wait, What Was That Bit About Worms?”

2) The Song My Producer Said I Had To Append A Parenthetical To So That People Would Be Able To Find It Because The Lyrics Never Mention The Title Once But I Was Raised On Fanfiction So Joke’s On You, Pal! I Love A Long Title With A Parenthetical In It!!!

3) The Song That Is Sad'

Pretty dang accurate, honestly. Also, I think she has a Tumblr!!! *Gasp.* What if I...tag her???

@ofgeography Hiiii and thank you, your music is amazing.

I did it bees and knees (yes, this is my hip modern way of including every kind of person, fight me or provide more hilarious options; I'm content with either option).

I have had a fun time perusing this flavourful dose of humanity's wild website and I think my fun fact today should be her story where she becomes a donut god:

You're welcome, singular entity that reads this blog (that entity being my sister and/or the rogue bots, doesn't matter, we're all friends here).

Personal blurb: Alright, full disclosure time: I discovered this artist because of the 'Good Omens' fandom. Someone said we were missing out on feelings and shared this song, and when I tell you I felt those feelings, I certainly don't mean that I danced to this on repeat for several months (and her 'Hanahaki (Bloom)'), often at 3 in the morning in the bathroom. Of course not.

Pro tip: dancing with your toothbrush in your mouth is a choking hazard, but in the spirit of Alanis Morissette, I recommend doing it anyway:

One of my favourite books in the world is 'The Overstory' by Richard Powers. In it, one of the themes that arises often is the concept of pyrophitic serotinous plants (it's okay, I won't remember it either). They are plants that need fire to open. (There are actually different types of pyrophitic plants, from passive to fire-activated but I probably shouldn't start talking about that because you'll need to pull out the duct tape.)

(Technically, 'serotinous' plants are a category in which plants release seeds over a longer period of time, and it doesn't matter how they are released, but the seeds that open by fire fit into this category.) The eucalyptus tree, the lodgehole pine, and other pyrophitic serotinous trees encase their seeds in resin that can only be melted by fire (thereby releasing the seeds).

The thing that I love about this concept is this: we need to burn to grow. I recently read this book called 'Life in Oil' about the Cofàn tribe in Ecuador who were drastically impacted by oil companies. And the thing was: Yes. They were impacted horribly (physically, psychologically, environmentally, the works). They also survived. They figured out, through tumult and trial and falling apart, how to keep going. And for every hard moment and loss, there was laughter and love to accompany it. The book was wonderful in that it confronted the concept of trauma on a large group of people. We are never just our trauma, but the balance of everything else as well. I think that gets lost, sometimes. Makes us seem less human.

This song screams to me of that same instinct. I mean, look at us. This is what we do, isn't it? We fight, we fall, we continue. We're just like every other aspect of nature in that we are born, and in our fight to continue, we impact everything around us. We're just a part of the cycle and eventually we will decay back to where we belong and serve as soil for our children. And all we'll be? A story. And after a while, not even that. Just a whisper of what was.

In a way? I find that freeing. We might as well live the life we want to live; how little it will matter. (This isn't absolution, please don't go murdering people.) I just mean that I don't have to put so much weight into every little thing. Not everything has to be joyful or depressing (and if we really think about it, everything is always a balance of both). It can just be what it is.

We are as we are. And we don't have to love ourselves for it, but we don't have to hate ourselves either.

I love the lyrics to this song. For a long time, I misheard 'We're animals of love/ the city never makes us beg' as 'the city never makes us pay' and I don't know why? But I kind of like that image.

We are animals of love. And that's okay.

We are the cogs in a continuous cycle and we always will be.

I think often of this monologue (content warning for the video, it's gory, but you don't need to watch it, you can just listen) from 'Midnight Mass', in regards to this:

(It sort of lives in my brain on a regular basis now; hope it takes up good residence in your brain, too.)

We just are. Everything just is.

[hikarry]

As immortal beings, by definition, Crowley and Aziraphale don't have to worry much with mortality.

Sure, they are surrounded by it constantly. After all, they live amongst humans, and they watch the few friends or acquaintance they make through the ages come and go systematically. They are aware of mortality, of death, they just don't think much about it in regards to themselves

To them mortality is not scary. It's just another step in the humans' lives when their eternal house is decided. It's something natural and unavoidable. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Aziraphale has helped some humans cross to the other side more peacefully.

My point is: As immortals, they are aware of mortality. But they don't think much about their own unless they are thinking about being caught by Heaven and Hell, but that's just a what if. An hypothetical. A real one at that, yes, but not reality yet.

Now, the bookshop fire.

In this moment, Crowley is punched in the face by the mortality of immortals.

Something he doesn't think that much about just falls into his lap by the hand of no other but Aziraphale.

Suddenly he is faced with utter loneliness. The ending of a life that, technically, should be eternal. A life he took for granted for more or less 6000 years.

In theory, he has always known both him Aziraphale could die. By their bosses' hands. By the end of the world itself. But it's very different to think about it in theory and living it.

Crowley wasn't prepared. This happened suddenly.

He was on his way to find Aziraphale, possibly to apologize again over the stupid shit he said and talk about the whereabouts of the Anti Christ, and suddenly a day that was actually not going that bad anymore (aka escaping Ligur and Hastur with little to no collateral damage) turns into his worst nightmare.

For 6000 years he has had the theory, and suddenly he his gifted with reality.

And the last thing he had said to Aziraphale's face was that he wouldn't even think about him when he left. You bet those last words started playing in his head as soon as he saw the fire.

And there's a whole hidden layer there: it wasn't just his best friend that went up in flames, which in on itself is already painful as fuck. No. The man he has loved for 6000 years also was destroyed.

Coming to terms with your own mortality as a supernatural being and the destruction of your companion since Eden would drive anyone into shock. Would be ingrained in their brains like a new trauma. The new notion of how actually fragile life is gifting you a whole new perspective.

No surprise Crowley probably has PTSD with fires. Or that he has nightmares about that day often. Or that he forbade Aziraphale from having anything fire related in the bookshop and convinced him to buy electric candles and a shit tone of fire extinguishers. Or that his mind went into "Fuck this, let the Apocalypse come. I'm too tired to deal with this anymore". OR that his first instinct was hidding in a random bar and getting sloshed out of his own mind to try and put the pieces all together. (Like, cmon, my man was about to open his third bottle)

The actual relief he must have felt when he found out Aziraphale was only discorporated must have been fucking abysmal! Like taking a cold shower after a fever! But you bet his encounter with mortality has changed him. You can't go through something like that and remain the same. And he didn't.

Imagine how he must have felt when Beelzebub told him about the Book of Life. The fucking flashbacks he must have had. No surprise the first thing he did was drive to Aziraphale, apologize and agree to his dumb plan of helping Gabriel. Anything to keep him under his eyes. At least if they go down then, they will go down together.

Or so he thought, innit? We know how this story ended.

[isabelawritesthings]

Mortal Kombat 1 dialogues with Loki reader

characters included: Liu Kang, Raiden, Johnny Cage and Shang Tsung

notes: The dialogues will be with both the male and female versions of Loki, and since Loki is a canonically gender fluid bisexual character, there will be flirting in both forms.

a/n: Loki and women are my new obsession, maybe I'll do more dialogues with Marvel or even DC characters.

Liu Kang

MALE VERSION –

Liu Kang: You're causing a mess in the timelines!

Reader: What? Is it so wrong to travel through the multiverse?

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Reader: Are you as powerful as He Who Remains?

Liu Kang: Who is this, Loki Laufeyson?

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Reader: Do I remind you of a sorcerer?

Liu Kang: Unfortunately, yes.

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Liu Kang: Make peace with Thor.

Reader: Why? Isn't it enough to live in his shadow all my life?!

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FEMALE VERSION

Reader: You're quite handsome for a Fire God.

Liu Kang: Focus, Loki (Sylvie).

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Liu Kang: You need to stop with the time travel!

Reader: Why? Are you afraid I'll break your perfect timeline?

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Liu Kang: Shang Tsung is seduced by you.

Reader: Tell him I won't be a concubine!

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Reader: Does Johnny Cage know there is a difference between flirting and sexual harassment?

Liu Kang: I'll talk to him later.

Raiden

MALE READER –

Raiden: Does your brother have lightning powers too?

Reader: Believe me, creating illusions is more impressive!

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Raiden: Have you allied yourself with the sorcerers?

Reader: Come on, Raiden, you know I'm greedy.

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Reader: Is your amulet your mjonir?

Raiden: What is a mjonir?

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Reader: Come back to Fengjian, farmer boy!

Raiden: Not while you're out there causing chaos!

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FEMALE READER –

Raiden: Is Shang Tsung jealous of me?

Reader: He thinks you're my boyfriend or something like that.

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Raiden: How many gods are there in Asgard?

Reader: Our pantheon is as numerous as the stars in the sky.

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Reader: What does Hela want with you?

Raiden: I don't know, but I hope it's nothing bad.

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Reader: Very handsome for a shaolin

Raiden: This isn't going to... Wait, are you flirting with me?

Johnny Cage

MALE READER –

Johnny: Thor is more badass!

Reader: And why should I listen to the opinion of a mediocre actor like you?!

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Johnny: That Sylvie has no right to be so hot!

Reader: You know she's technically me, right?

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Reader: You're a womanizer, right? Have you ever tried something different?

Johnny: Look, I respect people with different tastes, but that's definitely not my case.

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Reader: I also had problems with my father.

Johnny: This isn't going to make me sympathize with you, superhero movie villain!

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FEMALE READER –

Johnny: Are you sure Hela is the goddess of death? Because you can kill with this look!

Reader: It's not too hard to see why your wife left you!

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Johnny: I bet Asgard doesn't have gods as beautiful as me.

Reader: Please, have you seen my brother?

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Reader: Who is this Madam Bo?

Johnny: You would have to go to Fengjian one day to know, do you like Chinese food?

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Reader: I think Liu Kang is mad at me.

Johnny: Of course! You and your variants have wreaked havoc on the timelines!

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Shang Tsung

MALE READER –

Shang Tsung: We could both benefit from an alliance.

Reader: HA! I am a God! I make no alliances with mortals who came from poverty!

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Shang Tsung: *laughs* shall we start, God of lies?

Reader: As you wish, sorcerer...

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Reader: I invaded Earth once, it will be easy to dominate Outworld!

Shang Tsung: Good luck facing Liu Kang and Mileena's forces!

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Reader: You are as evil as I am.

Shang Tsung: Correct statement, Loki.

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FEMALE READER –

Shang Tsung: Think, Loki (Sylvie)! You could-

Reader: Be your consort? May Odin protect me from this cruel fate!

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Shang Tsung: Your body, so beautiful I could-

Reader: Ewww... Keep your perverted thoughts to yourself, sorcerer!

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Reader: What did you see in me?

Shang Tsung: Power, beauty and cunning... Everything I admire in a woman.

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Reader: You took advantage of Sindel's desperation to manipulate her!

Shang Tsung: *laughs* and the idiot fell right into my plan!

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[ninii-winchester]

Unveiled Sorrows (Part 4)

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader, Sam Winchester x Reader (platonic)

Word count : 3.6k

Warnings : spoilers s1-5, angst, so much angst, violence, language, mentions of pregnancy, unedited.

A/n : This series follows canon plot line but some scenes might happen differently or be completely changed. Check the warnings for each part before continuing.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

It had been a few weeks since the boys have been on the road. They called often. But it was mostly Sam. Sometimes to ask for help in research or sometimes just to make sure she's okay. Sam informed Y/n that there might a way to stop the apocalypse, as Gabriel told them, they can throw Lucifer back into his cage. The key to the cage being the rings from the four horsemen. Luckily they already had two of them. They just had to get the other two.

Bobby went out to help them with a witch problem. More like to get help himself. Cas hung around while Bobby was gone.

"How're you doin', Y/n." He asked the girl.

"I'm good honestly." She smiled. "Maybe after Lucifer is back in the cage, we could have a somewhat normal life."

"You're right." Cas replied.

"Cas I'm sorry." Y/n started. "For the times I've been mean to you. I know you were doing what you thought was right."

"It's alright. I understand." Cas said with a smile.

Bobby came back the next morning and he looked solemn. Y/n noticed and she knew something was wrong.

"Alright spill." She said sitting in front of him. The older man just sighed and looked away. "What did they do now?"

"Those idjits are trying to kill me.." He exclaimed. "How did you put up with all that all these years?" He asked.

"You get used to it, Bobby, Cmon tell me what is it now?" Y/n smiled thinking it can't be that bad.

"Sam wants to say yes." Bobby stated.

"What?" Y/n exclaimed standing up from her seat. "Why? I thought we had a plan."

"Yeah but you don't expect Lucifer to jump in out of the goodness of his heart, do you?" Bobby asked rhetorically.

"Yeah so what he's gonna sacrifice himself? What did Dean say about this?" Bobby looked away giving her the answer. "You've got to be shitting me! Dean agreed??" She exclaimed.

"I think this might actually be good idea." Cas spoke for the first time.

"Cas, not a good time buddy, lord so help me i will rip your lungs out." Y/n snapped.

"Technically that's not possible since I'm an angel. Although it would be inconvenient since I'd have to find another vessel." Cas replied his in monotonous voice.

Sometimes she hated the Angel. She left the room without a word. She can't believe Sam would suggest something like but, no wait she can because he's dumb like that. What she can't believe that Dean and Bobby are actually considering it. She slammed her foot on the car infront of her, cursing in frustration.

The boys didn't come back for atleast another week. Y/n heard the Impala pulling up in driveway and she knew they're here. She stood at the bottom of the staircase and watched as the door opened and walked in Dean. She didn't know what she was hoping for but a nod of acknowledgment just wasn't it. Dean made his way to the main room without a word. Sam entered the house few moments later.

"Hey Y/n." He greeted her and her mind went haywire. Her anger flared and all she saw was red. She was angry and upset, Dean's behaviour added fuel to the fire. Before she knew she took a step forward and punched Sam in the face causing him to reel back. He held his nose and hissed.

Dean came rushing to Sam's side and Bobby wheeled to see what the commotion is about.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean asked angrily.

"Me? What is wrong with you two. All of you?" Y/n screamed. "You're going to say yes to Lucifer? You're gonna let him take you?" She asked incredulously looking at Sam.

"Y/n i know it's a hard pill to swallow but we don't have another choice. You can't just expect to ask him nicely and he'll jump in." Sam understood she's upset. He understands she can't let her best friend go. He put his hand over her shoulder but she shrugged it off and went to the main room. The others followed her behind.

"There has to be another way. Why do you have to sacrifice yourself?" She asked throwing her hands up.

"One life for seven billion lives. I don't think it's a bad bargain." Sam replied softly.

"What about us, what about me and Dean, your family?" She felt her lip quiver. "Why do you think it's your responsibility to be the one saving the world.?"

"You know damn well I started the apocalypse. It is my responsibility." Sam replied feeling himself getting angry.

"And you don't have anything to say about this?" She turned to Dean hoping he'd say something. When he didn't say anything Sam spoke.

"Look, Y/n there is no other way, we have War and Famine's rings, we're gonna get Pestilence's and Death's rings. I say Yes to Lucifer, We open the cage and I jump in."

"And you think he'll let you do that? You think he's not gonna take over your body as soon you say Yes." Y/n countered.

"It's worth a try." Sam replied.

"No it's a stup-"

"ALRIGHT ENOUGH." Dean's loud voice boomed making her flinch a bit. "You need to stop, you hear me? This is our decision to make. We were chosen for this and last I checked the world doesn't revolve around you." Dean said directly looking at Y/n.

"Dean." Sam said trying to calm his brother but the older Winchester didn't waver.

"I suppose the decision has been made. We don't need your input. Either you help or you walk out. The door's that way." Dean said looking into her eyes, pointing towards the door.

"You watch what you're saying, boy."  Bobby spoke for the first time in a while. "Need I remind you this is my house." Dean looked away at Bobby's stern voice.

Y/n didn't speak nor did she breath, how could she. She felt as if her heart has been ripped out of her chest. She didn't cry, everything inside her wanted her to scream and yell. To breakdown and hope that its a terrible nightmare that would be over soon.

"Is this your final decision?" She asked the same question she asked him after everything with Alistair went down. A single teardrop slid down her cheek.

"Yes." Dean replied. Unnerving and firm in his decision. In that moment she knew it was over. Everything was over. At this point who was she even kidding, there was nothing to begin with. At his confirmation all she did was nod her head. And she made her way up to her to room. The main room fell silent as she left.

"Dean what the hell?" Sam exclaimed and Dean left the room without a word.

Y/n didn't come out of the room the whole day. Bobby couldn't go up to check on her and Sam didn't know if she wanted to see him. Dean however remained indifferent. Sam grabbed a beer from the fridge and went outside. He felt like he was going to suffocate inside. He sat on the hood of one of the many cars present at the yard. He heard footsteps and looked to see Y/n coming outside. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed Sam sitting there.

"Sorry I'll just go." She said softly before turning back.

"Y/n-" Sam called out to her. She turned to look at him. "Please stay." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Sam-"

"Please." She nodded and made her way towards him and he helped her up. The two of them sat in silence. Dean saw Y/n and Sam talking, sitting on the hood of a car. He couldn't help but eavesdrop.

It was quiet for moment before Sam spoke, "I'm sorry." She didn't look at him nor did she say anything. "I'm sorry it came down to this. I wish things could've been different." She still didn't speak but looked at him. "I know it's hard for you to accept and i know if i were in your place I'd react the same way hell even worse. But you have to know this is my redemption, for what I did. I set him loose and I have to be the one to send him back."

"I understand Sam." Dean heard her say. "Truth is, I was being selfish, I didn't want to lose my best friend. I didn't want to lose my family, but the real truth is I realised that I never had one." She tucked her knees to her chest. "I found out the hard way but all in good time." She smiled even though she felt her heartstrings were seconds away from snapping.

Dean felt like his whole body was on fire as he heard her say that. He knew what he did, and he knew what he said. But he had to keep her away. He couldn't let her get hurt, so it doesn't matter if she walks away hating him. What matters is she walks away. Alive and Safe.

"That's not true Dean...he just... he didn't mean it. He's angry. He might not show it but the decision is affecting him too. He didn't mean any of it." Sam tried to explain.

"You and I both have been with him long enough to know he meant what he said." Y/n looked into Sam's eyes, her eyebrow raised and lips tugged upwards. Her face screamed are-you-really going-to-argue-you-know-i-am-right. Sam looked away because deep down, he knew Dean meant it. His posture, the way he spoke, it was familiar to him. "I assume this is goodbye?" Tears filled her eyes as she asked.

"I wish it wasn't." Sam replied pulling her into a bone crushing hug. Y/n was thankful that they were sitting so he didn't crush her stomach. However his hands were tightly wrapped around her shoulder and her's around his torso.

"I wish i knew what to say to make you stay." She sobbed in his chest. Sam couldn't help but let a few tears roll down down his cheeks and onto her hair. "Please don't go Sammy." She cried, her body shaking with intensity.

Dean wished he could join them, he wished he could comfort them both, he wished he could tell them that's all gonna be okay. But his feet were glued to ground. The only thing he wanted to do was protect his family. He failed to protect Sam but he knew he had to protect her so he made a decision and he's going to stick to it.

"I have to. But you have to promise me you'll take care of yourself yeah? You won't be reckless." He pulled away to look at her. "As much as I love you I have no desire to meet you on the other side anytime soon. You hear me?" He joked and it made her chuckle through her tears.

"Bold of you to assume I’m going to Hell.” She tried to joke but it only made her cry more. “I promise. I'll be safe." She sniffled as they pulled apart. "I'm leaving." She told him.

"What? Where?"

"I don't know." She shrugged.

Dean has never felt so broken before. The two people he loved the most in his life are leaving. And he can't do anything to stop either of them. Life has always been a losing game for him. But being ripped off of his family, all at once it was too much to bear. He didn't know how long he could hold on so he went inside. He couldn't hear it anymore.

A month has passed since Y/n left Bobby's house. Much to the older man's dismay. Last thing she knew before leaving that the boys were searching for Pestilence. She had been living in a motel room that she had booked for a month. She went to see a doctor as well, and found out she was three months along now. She was lost in thought staring at the ultrasound picture when her phone rang. Her heartbeat accelerated as she picked up the phone. It said Cas. She pondered whether to answer or not.

"Hello." Her voice shaky as she answered.

"We have the key." The angel spoke. "We're going to Detroit." He spoke.

"What do you want me to do Cas?" She asked, she hoped Dean had asked him to call her. She knew he was too stubborn to call herself but she hoped.

"I thought you'd want to know."

"Did they tell you to call me?"

"No. It was me." Her hopes were shattered.

"Alright Cas."

"Will you come?"

"No." With that she hung up. She couldn't go. What would she even do? Watch her best friend jump into the hell fire? She'd pass.

As Sam and Dean drove to Detroit, the tension in air was so thick they could cut it with a knife. Dean kept his focus on driving and Sam kept fidgeting with his fingers. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Dean." Sam turned to his brother.

"I'm not doing the goodbye crap." Dean replied without looking at Sam.

"You have to listen to me." Dean raised a brow and urged him to continue. "You have to promise me you won't try to bring me back." Sam said with urgency.

"What? I never agreed on anything like that."

"Dean. No, you have to promise me that you won't bring me back. You get out."

"Out?" Dean questioned.

"Out of Hunting, Dean, you go back Lisa. Live that life you always wanted to live. I just want you to be happy man, I hope by some miracle she takes you back."

"What about y/n?" Dean asked subtly.

"What about her? She left. I hope she's happy wherever she is. But I can't have you trying to find her." Sam said seriously.

"Why not?" Dean side eyed Sam.

"Because then you two will try to bring me back. I need you to get away from this life Dean. I need you to promise, you'll go back to Lisa and you'll live the apple pie life." Sam explained. "Don't try to find Y/n again, I just want you two to be happy. And if you two keep trying to bring me back, you won't get out of this life." Dean looked at his brother and his heart raced a thousand miles per hour. "Promise me Dean."

"I promise."

Y/n paced back and forth in her room. She can't seem to get it all out of her mind. Damn you Cas, she cursed grabbing her stuff and her car keys. She threw her things in the backseat and left for Detroit.

For Dean, it all happened in a blink of eye yet it felt like time had slowed down. They met up with Lucifer after Sam had chugged down all that demon blood. Sam said Yes which allowed Lucifer to get inside Sam's body. Dean threw the key at the wall and said the incantation to open the cage. He saw Sam fighting for power over his body but then Sam said the incantation to close the cage. He took the key off the wall and pocketed it. Lucifer had taken over and Sam was gone. They lost.

The war was going to happen and there’s nothing Dean could do. He had the power to keep it at bay but then the angels had brought in Adam and Micheal had taken over him. The war was now inevitable. Millions of people were going to die. Michael and Lucifer will fight in Sam and Adam's bodies.

Dean called Chuck to ask him if he saw what happened and Chuck said he did. The Winchester asked the latter if he saw the outcome of the war but he denied saying he couldn't see that far. But he told him he knew when and where it'll happen.

"Where Chuck?"

"Tomorrow high noon, at Stull Cemetery." Dean hung up and revved the engine to meet up with Cas and Bobby. He couldn't sit there and wait for a duel to happen between two angels. He had to do something.

Y/n drove as fast as she could to reach Detroit and she saw Cas calling. She answered the phone keeping her eyes on the road.

"Cas?"

"We lost."

"WHAT?" She stomped the brakes. A screeching sound was heard.

"Sam couldn't take over his body. Lucifer closed the cage and took the key. Michael and Lucifer will fight." Cas told her.

"Wait how? Dean said he'd never say yes to Michael.." Cas cut her off.

"They brought in Adam."

"You know your kind is a bunch of assholes?" Y/n growled.

"I know, I wish things..!" Cas stopped talking as he heard Dean calling his name.

"Cas.. Bobby." Dean said approaching the two. Cas didn't hang up just shoved his phone back inside his pocket.

"What's going on Dean?" Bobby asked.

"I'm going to stop this war." She heard Dean say.

"What? You don't even know where or when it will happen" Cas replied.

"I know. Tomorrow noon, stull cemetery."

"But it's not possible. It's Michael and Lucifer. You can't stop them." Cas said solemnly.

"I can't just sit here and wait for destruction. I know I can't stop them, but my brother's in there. I can try." Dean said getting into his car.

Stull cemetery, Noon.

Y/n repeated those words in her head and she stepped on the Gas. She had to be there. She arrived there at before anyone else did and hid behind the bushes. She saw Sam walk in the cemetery but it wasn't her Sam anymore it was Lucifer. She watched as Adam appeared out of nowhere. It wasn't Adam anymore it was Michael.. The two talked for a while their voices getting louder and then she saw The Impala driving in , music blaring from the speakers. Her heart squeezed at the sight of Dean.

"Hey. We need to talk." He said walking towards Sam/Lucifer.

"Dean, even for you, this is a whole mountain of stupid." Lucifer said.

"I'm not talking to you I'm talking to my brother." He replied.

"You're not a vessel anymore." Adam/Micheal said.

"I just need five minutes."

"You have no right to be here. You're no longer a part of this story." Michael walking towards Dean when Cas called out to him.

"Hey, ass-butt." And threw a molotov cocktail at Michael but it was made of holy fire, which made him disappear. This made Lucifer angry.

"Castiel, did you just Molotov my brother with holy fire?" Lucifer snarled at Castiel.

"No?" Cas answered, if it wasn't an apocalyptic situation Y/n would've laughed.

"No one dicks with Michael other than me." Lucifer said before disintegrating Cas to nothing.

Lucifer then moved towards Dean and grabbed him by the neck. Bobby shot at Lucifer to which he just flicked his hand and cracked Bobby's neck. Y/n couldn't just watch anymore. She jumped out from the bushes as Lucifer kept punching Dean. He threw him against the car and bashed his face with his bare hands.

"Dean." Y/n yelled as she ran towards him.

"Oh hello there darling." Lucifer said in a sickening voice. "I knew someone was missing when these two showed up. You were in Carthage weren't you?" He asked.

"Let him go." She said staring down at Lucifer. Dean was brutally beaten. His face was swollen and bloodied. His eyes were barely visible due to all the swelling on his face.

Lucifer threw Dean on the ground and he collided with the Impala. He groaned as he hit the car. He watched as Lucifer walked towards Y/n.

"Sammy don't do this please." She begged hoping he's in there listening.

"Sammy's not home darling." Lucifer snarled as he grabbed her by the neck. Pulling her off the ground. "You know I could've let you two live if you'd just stay away. I care about Sam and I know you two mean a lot to him. But you're so annoying, you two." Y/n gasped trying to get his hands off her.

"Sam please." She cried.

"Sammy." Dean groaned. "Let her go."

He looked at Dean and his gaze fell on the an action figure stuck in the Impala, something flashed in Lucifer's eyes and he let Y/n go. She gasped as she dropped to the ground. Coughing up as she tried to take as much air as she could. Lucifer looked at Dean and Y/n and the two looked back at him. It wasn't Lucifer. It was Sam. He immediately fished out the key from his pocket and threw it on the ground. He said the incantation to open the cage and it appeared on the floor. Sam turned to look back at Dean and Y/n. She was sobbing on the ground while Dean looked at Sam as if he was trying to remember his face. With one last look at his brother. Sam jumped. Michael reappeared trying to stop Sam from jumping in but he pulled him in too.

As soon as he jumped Cas came back to life. He pressed his two fingers to Bobby's head and brought him back to life. Castiel then walked to where Dean was and healed him completely.

"Cas, are you God?" Dean asked.

"That's a nice compliment but no." Cas replied. "But I believe he brought me back."

Dean nodded and looked around and saw Y/n still on the ground, sobbing. He turned back around and got into the Impala. He did what no one of them had expected. He drove off.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @queensilber