#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

[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.

[dotster001]

When You Escape Him; Ignihyde

Summary: Yandere Idia x gn!reader. He adopts a child that looks like the two of you. You run to give you both a chance at life. You never expected him to find you.

A/N: okay, here's the thing. I know technically Ortho is one of the first year crew now, and thus, he is technically as old as we are. However, in my head he has been ten years old for so long that it's hard for me to see him that way. I tried to think of a way this could work platonically, and I came up with nothing for this prompt. So no Ortho for this one. Sorry friends 🤷🏼‍♀️ also, I know this is not an 18+ blog, so some of you are minors, in which case, I am not judging you for liking Ortho, if that is the case. I'm just saying it's a no for me.

CW: tranquilizer darts, minor character death, yandere stuff

Other Parts: Heartslaybul Savannaclaw Octavinelle Scarabia Pomefiore Diasomnia Non NRC Staff

Three years into your relationship, he had come home and placed a baby in your arms.

"They were left in a box, all alone. And, well, he looks like if the two of us had a child," he sheepishly stared at the ground. "I just, I just figured it must be a gift from the seven."

You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to tie himself to you through this boy. He looked just like him, and you were disgusted and scared.

Until he opened his eyes for the first time, and you found yourself staring into your own.

And you knew. You had to give this child the opportunity for a better life. A life without him.

In the end, your son did the opposite of what he had intended. And the first moment you could, the two of you had escaped.

You couldn't help but be…. suspicious. Idia had only grown smarter, and more creative over the years, which made you wonder…did Idia build your son? Flaming blue hair wasn't common.

But he aged normally. So he couldn't be an Idia creation. So maybe it really was a coincidence?

Not something you could worry about right now as the two of you hid from S.T.Y.X robots. 

The fact that you'd made it a year was pretty good, if you were being honest. You didn't have clearance to leave the Isle of Woe, but a scorned ex employee of Idia’s had let you stay hidden in his home. He didn't even make you pay rent because, in his words, keeping that pretentious bastard's favorite things away from him was payment enough. Aside from that little spiel, he was a sweet guy. Which is probably why he was fired. 

But someone must have ratted you both out. You'd heard a shot downstairs, followed by his pained groan. A groan that was only as loud as it was for the sole purpose of alerting someone hiding upstairs.

You were hiding under the bed, with your son. The man had lined the beds with materials the S.T.Y.X bots couldn't scan through. You didn't have much faith though. Not that you had a plan if you did manage to hide from the bots. Either way, this was probably game over for you.

But you'd rather game over didn't come from Idia.

You stayed quiet under the bed, as you heard the bots start wrecking rooms. One particularly loud crash woke the baby. You hurriedly rushed to calm him, but he started crying. You couldn't blame a kid for being a kid. 

Bots rushed to your room, and threw the bed you were hiding under across the room. They all pointed their tranquilizers at you, as one of the bots stomachs displayed Idia’s visage.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, please come home,” he cried. You didn't even know how to respond to that. You would have thought he'd be angry, but that would have been out of character for him.

“I know, I'm the absolute worst, but I'll be better for you! Please don't keep my son from me!”

Bargaining. Nice.

“I'll let you go outside for an hour a day. I'll buy you whatever you want. Please, please,please, please, please.”

“Oh my God! Idia! What I want is fucking freedom!” You snapped as you continued to try and calm the boy.

“I…I can't…”

“Yes you can!”

“I need you!”

“Well I don't want you!”

His eyes widened for a moment, completely taken aback. Then they narrowed, as he bit his lip in disdain. 

“Fine.”

One of the bots hit you with a tranquilizer dart. You cried out, but were quickly distracted from the pain as a bot took your son from your quickly numbing arms.

“No,” you groaned, reaching out as quickly as your body would let you, which was not very fast.

Your eyesight was darkening as the bots began to leave the room, leaving you alone with the bot projecting Idia.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Your vision faded as you were left alone in the room, a single tear rolling down your cheek.

[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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[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,”

[frigidwife]

did i misread the arun/maitre stuff or was that whole thing designed for armand's gratification, not louis'? the "armand was a sex slave ofc he's good in bed" take is crass imo, but also misses the point? louis is the one bartering w desire now for his own (& claudia's) survival. he's the one adopting a fake persona & going through the motions to appease a partner who threatens him. if the sex is mid it's not bc armand lacks "technical skill" or w/e it's bc he doesn't care abt louis' pleasure, agency, or even his waning interest so long as he toes the line. & yes 2 things can be true, sexual chemistry can co-exist w abuse/coercion. but if l0umand's sex was fire the show didn't convey that? in the closest we get to a sex scene (ep6) louis was grimly disengaged & armand was midway through scripting his lynching. i doubt the writers did this by accident?

yeah exactly exactly …people literally do seem to think it was by accident😭 the takes when episode six aired that were like “you guys just aren’t ready to see gay men who are switches in a bdsm relationship” Like woah this isn’t found fucking footage This is a constructed narrative with deliberate framing 😭😭😭 and they reallyyyy wanted that narrative to be l/a romance and it’s simply not . WHICH is why the service-oriented “””””””wife guy””””” fan characterization of armand pisses me off so much like neither armand’s control nor his “submission” are for louis’s benefit and it’s a huge and obvious lie he tells (for the control; i don’t even think Armand pretends the roleplay is for louis’s benefit people just ran with that) that anything he does makes louis happy. Or honestly even the idea that he wants to make louis happy and just doesn’t know how lets armand off the hook . It’s killing me actually we’re literally given a scene w armand w big wet eyes saying it was love about the events leading to louis’s lynching, in the episode after we see him torture louis and then erase it from his memory. and now i have to see 9 million posts like It was love guys it was loveee armand just didn’t knowwwww any better bc he was born in a cardboard box and only knew cults 🥺 No it was strategic from the start his veneer of generosity is so fucking transparent !!

[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 so 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 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.

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' so often, in regards to this:

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.

[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

[readychilledwine]

Death of Peace of Mind - Part 1

Summary - We all believe Eris has a cabin hidden in the Autumn woods that he keeps his mate in, but what if she wasn't there willingly?

Warnings - technically kidnapping, sighs of setting in Stockholm Syndrome, technically signs of abuse/neglect towards a partner, inferred smut

A/N - this part is fairly mild, but the ending should tell you all what's coming. This is a pretty big time jump between this part and the little preview *link coming soon.* at this point our "unnamed" oc has been trapped in Eris's cabin for 7 months now

Ps- do we think Eris and Lucien need their own foxboy dividers? (I low-key do)

Part two

*6 months into her entrapment*

Eris had left his mate alone in his cabin for a  month now. Warding her within the 20 foot radius he gave her for exploration. 

It had taken time to tame her. More time than he had wanted it to, but he still knew it was what was best for her. 

He leaned back in his chair, listening to the advisor his father was allowing to drag on speak about how they need to tax the lesser fae harder. It wasn't a sentiment he argued with despite his face showing neutrality towards the idea of continuing to rob the poor and hungry, but he knew better than to start an argument.

An argument would mean he'd be there longer, or have to deal with his father's wrath and whatever punishment he felt fit. Being quiet meant getting back to his mate sooner. It meant seeing if his isolation plan had worked sooner. And when it did, it meant in a few more hours, he'd be buried inside of her. 

-

She knew he was coming home soon and tucked her legs into her chest. The silence had been welcomed. Wanted even if she was honest with herself. But she was lonely. He'd left her with one hound instead of the usual 3, and not even a hound who wanted to be with her.

She was confused by him. Her body begging and pleading to bend to his every wish and want, to be his, but er mind screaming to run, to fight. Her heart stood tore in the middle. She'd always wanted a mate, she just have never wanted this isolation.

She jumped as the door opened and familiar claws ran across the wood floor rushing to come greet her. She turned to pet little fluffy heads, one hound in each hand as he took off his jacket and shoes.

"You told me it'd only be a few days," her heart tightened. "You were gone for a month."

Eris quickly hid the tugging smile. "Did you miss me then?"

"No." Yes. She realized she had answered too quickly. His brow raised indicated he didn't believe her. And who could blame him when she didn't believe herself. "It just isn't something a proper mate would do." 

Eris felt his shoulders grow stiff, his head turned to the side slightly as if he were assessing her. "So a month of loneliness is all it took for you to acknowledge the bond? To acknowledge you are mine?"

She felt the weight of his questions hit her. That had been his plan all along, to force loneliness so deep it cut through her sanity. He moved to her, hands falling to her hips and gripping tightly. He was waiting for an answer. "Speak, fox." He said to her, "Tell me of your nights without my body and magic keeping the sheets warm, of how cold the cabin grew without me keeping the fires lit. Tell me how desperate you were for me. For my touch."

His gaze was serpentine. Staring her down as if she were no more than a wounded animal. "I didn't mean it that way," her voice was weak.

"You know better than to lie, little fox," one hand moved up her body. "Now greet me like a proper mate who missed her other half." She shook her head, refusing to give him that one carnal desire. Eris clicked his tongue. "Maybe I was mistaken in thinking you were ready for time apart. I thought we were past this." His hands on her hips grew tighter and warmer. She felt her lip tremble. "Do you need a reminder of who this body belongs to? Of who makes it sing?" His right hand moved up her body. "Not a single day went by where I did not miss and think of you. Of the good girl I left at home."

His words were a soft confession and opening. His Amber eyes met her doe ones. The offer shining brightly. If she gave him this one thing, he would be gentle with her tonight. "Well, little love," his hand tilted her face to his. "Will you give me a welcome home kiss?"

Her mind screamed for her to fight longer, to fight more. Her heart begged to cave to this new gentleness he was offering. Her body screamed for it as well. It screamed to be reunited with her mate, despite his isolation methods, despite his cruelty.

She caved, hands finding his chest, her soul, and heart, singing from finally having contact and socialization again. She began kissing him deeply despite the dimming protests in her mind.

-

Eris knew of her independence when he ripped her from her parents home. He had begun to use it as a reward against her.

If she behaved, he allowed her a taste of freedom, of what they would have when his father was gone. And last night had behaved beautifully. 

She had allowed him to take her, the way he truly wanted, with soft caresses and whispered words of adoration and worship. She had cried and begged for him as if he was her savior and salvation all in one. 

So today, he took her to Spring. Allowing her to explore the once destroyed but now flourishing market.

"Good girls get rewards," he had murmured into her naked skin as he took her again this morning. 

He didn't even notice her plotting. He only finally noticed when they had reached an area that was more lively than others and she was no longer at his side. 

But if she wanted a game of chase, if she wanted to ruin this beautiful day the two of them were having. He was more than happy to oblige and trap her back in that cabin until she understood one simple fact.

She wasn't going to go home. 

-

Her heart was racing as she pulled the scarf further over her hair and weaved between bodies. 

She didn't bother looking at anyone. Didn't return their joyful good mornings. She had to focus on her escape. On crossing that border into Autumn and getting home.

She quickly made it to that odd edge between courts, were bright green grass contrasted deep golden orange and burning red hues. 

She took off running when the bond warned her he was close. Her home was a 3 days journey by horseback from Spring. She had no clue if she'd make it there, or how long it could take, but this kiss of freedom was worth it.

She was near the cabin when nightfall came giving away to cold air. She was starving, exhausted, and her body felt as if she had been laying on hot pokers all day.

Every step to keep herself warm was tedious as her legs grew heavier. Every rustle of leaves had her on edge.

She stood at the small clearing, knowing a right would take her back to the cabin, to somewhere safe and warm. A left would take her towards the border of Winter. Continuing straight would take her home. 

She knew these woods weren't safe. That she was not safe. I was safe in the cabin, her mind whispered. He may be cruel, but I was always safe.

-

Eris watched her from up in the trees unknown to her. He had found her hours ago with the 9 hounds that were also stalking her like prey. 

One of them paused, ears folding back and his body going low to the ground as he growled. Eris smelled the beast before he heard it or saw in. He gave the signal for his hounds to hold and waited, a bow and arrow notched. 

Soulless black eyes stared at his mate, long claws emerged from its hands as it stalked around her and she stood there frozen in fear. "The dark mother has brought me a blessing," the creature hissed to her. "A treat wandering into the forest all by herself." 

Eris kept his arrow lined and true with the beast but never released it. The hounds were growing restless, itching to destroy the monster, threatening the female they considered their mother. She didn't even move as it raised a clawed hand to brush her cheek, only whimpered out of fear. "Your screams will be delicious." 

It's other clawed hand raised and Eris took the opening, shooting the beast in the ribs and heart before it could harm his little mate and giving the hounds the signal to attack.

He jumped down, and she looked at him, eyes welled with tears before running into his arms.

"I'm sorry," she kept whispering. "I'm so sorry. Take me home. Please. Please don't make me stay out here." 

Eris put her at an arm's length, faking a look of indifference. "I offered you my love, my safety, my protection. I gave you a treat for your good behavior, and you repay me by running away?" Her lips trembled as her tears fell faster. "You truly expect me to take you back to the cabin you seem to hate so much?" He whistled for his hounds, signaling them to stop the attack and head home. "Why shouldn't I leave you in these woods, alone and cold?"

Her body shook with sobs. "Eris please. I'm so scared."

"And you could have been home safe. If you would have played your part, had you been a good little mate. A night out here would be the consequences of your own actions." 

A whimper ripped through her. "I'll give you anything, please. Please take me back."

Eris cocked his head at her, "Anything?" He purred in delight. Holding his hand out. "If I bring you home, you never run again, you will serve me a meal, and you will move into my chambers when I place as high lord with no further arguments."

It was a slap in the face. Her mind was reeling instantly, pleading with her to just leave. To turn towards winter, to turn towards anywhere and leave. "You can shake my hand and seal the bargain, or you can stay in these woods. Cold, afraid, and alone. Thousands of females would slaughter each other with no hesitation for your spot at my side."

The mating bond growled in possession inside of her, her heart shattered at the idea of him with someone else. Her body moved on its own choice, her hand slowly raising and holding his. 

Eris growled in satisfaction. "I expect my dinner tomorrow night, little fox." He picked her up, warming her freezing body with his own as he walked to the cabin. "Let's get you inside and safe."

-

He tucked her naked body into the bed. Warming the sheets to fight the chill that had sunk into her bones. She was covered in evidence of his love for her. He grinned with male satisfaction before moving to the living room and checking over the 9 sleeping hounds who had been treated to her love and treats. 

He walked out of the door, whistling three times for the last three to come in. They jogged to the door happily, little scraps of her clothing still attached to their collars. He took the clothing off of them, throwing it into the hearth where the rest of the dress had burned early, and he patted them each gently.

"Good hounds," he spoke softly. "You lead it straight to her."

[valyrfia]

I have seen a lot of criticism on Charles’ mentality because he didnt fight the team’s order telling him to hold position. People are saying he lacks the edge to win WDC.

Do you think Charles should defy the team order from a technical point of view?

He needs to learn to push back against team orders more often, yes. But to say he lacks the edge to win a WDC is ridiculous. We all saw him in 2019 eat up Sebastian Vettel despite team orders. The difference with yesterday is that Max Verstappen in a Red Bull is currently a little unbeatable, and Ferrari is now P2 in the constructors only 4 points off of Red Bull due to Charles helping them to maximise points. Charles could have fought Carlos quite easily and probably overtaken him for P1, but they would have wasted precious tyre deg and Carlos could have been easily overtaken by Lando then, especially since Carlos's tyre deg was higher than Charles's in the final laps, thus losing Ferrari three points.

So Charles obeying team orders was probably the right thing to do for the team on this occasion. The only issue I have is everyone going "oh Carlos is the only one who can beat Max Verstappen! Charles is so washed! Ferrari fired the wrong driver!" without looking at the whole picture. Both times, Charles has graciously played the role of second driver when needed in order to secure the team a win (a role Carlos has not reciprocated, lest we forget Vegas). It's just unfortunate that the only times Carlos beats him in a quali head to head are the times that Max is out of commission and Ferrari has the chance of fighting for a win. But I believe Charles's time will come again, after all seven front row starts in a row isn't too shabby.

Someone (I forget who) said it best in that this season for Charles will likely parallel Max's 2020 season, which was quietly fantastic. Apart from retirements, Max didn't finish a race below P6, which he only did once and then rest of the time finished in the top 3, pulling in two wins along the way. In a lot of ways, it sets Charles's 2025 season up to also parallel Max's 2021 season, a new teammate, the year before new regs, and an ever-improving technical team at the factory.....well I'll leave it up to you to draw conclusions.

Additionally, Max didn't win a championship until his seventh year in Formula 1, up until then there were also washed allegations surrounding him, and look at him now. The 2024 season is Charles's seventh season. Charles is only approaching his prime. He's still the third youngest driver to ever win a grand prix, and has a pole count equal with some WDCs. Just because Charles followed team orders in order to help secure his team two wins in an era that has otherwise been absolutely dominated by Max Verstappen in a Red Bull does NOT mean he's not WDC material.

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Weapons:

Summary: General Skywalker manhandles you as he tries to teach you how to use a new weapon.

Warnings: None but I might write a p2...

Word Count: 1,430

“Oh hey, be careful with that.” General Skywalker broke through your concentration and rushed to your side, stopping you from picking up one of the blaster guns off the wall. 

You had gone towards it because it was so unfamiliar to you. Naturally, you didn’t use these weapons very often, preferring your lightsaber above everything else. But war had made you a bit more uncivilised and often required lower forms of combat.

It was larger than a hand gun, and a strange almost round shape- possibly indicating quite a lot of power in the blast. You were only curious to try it out. It could come in handy.

Before you could grasp it, Anakin's hands swiftly closed around yours, taking the blaster from your grip. "These are new issue," he explained, his tone protective and possessive, though tinged with amusement.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask the involuntary flutter in your chest at his touch. "I can tell. I just wanted to familiarize myself with it.”

His blue eyes darted around the hangar, calculating the situation. You weren’t technically due to leave for another hour. "I can show you how it works, but this enclosed area isn't the safest place for it."

“Then by all means General, lead the way.” He nods at you and gestures behind him in the direction of the lower training rooms.

"I didn't know you were interested in expanding your combat skills," Anakin remarked as the two of you descended into the training area. "I took you for a more traditional fighter."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. “In the current climate I don’t find that view overly convincing. I will do what I must. Even if that means using weapons of a… less elegant variety”

Anakin chuckled, the low, resonant sound sending a shiver down your spine, "Of course, staying ahead of the game is essential. You never know when you might need to handle one of these."

As you entered into the training room, Anakin pulled out the blaster gun he had taken from you earlier and handed it back. "Now, let me show you the basics. It's not too different from using a standard—but it is very powerful. First just shoot how you normally would and we can work out the specifics later.”

You took the blaster gun from him, feeling the weight of it in your hand it was markedly different from your lightsaber, from what you were used to, but you were eager to learn. You got into your normal stance, feet should-width apart, arms straight, one eye closed. 

“Alright, actually-” Anakin had other ideas. With sudden swiftness, he closed the distance between you, standing directly behind you and placing his hand over yours, guiding your grip on the blaster's trigger.  “It’s a little more complicated than all that.”

For some reason you couldn’t breathe. He was so close you you, his tall hulking frame encompassing your body, pressed up right against you back, you felt his every exhale on your neck. He must have asked you a question or given you a direction but you didn’t hear him at first. 

So when his foot went between your legs and nudged your boots apart on the floor to give you a wider stance, you started. 

“Y/N pay attention, this is a dangerous weapon, the backfire is absolutely brutal. Someone with your… small frame… You’ll be blown right back."

You nod, trying to regain your composure. “Yes General.” Your voice was unsteady but you did as he indicated, you spread your legs a bit more, you let him pull your shoulders back, and rearrange your fingers on the hilt. 

He stood beside you, his presence reassuring and distracting all at once as he guided you through the process. “You have to make sure your stance is stable. You want a firm grip on the blaster, but don't tense up too much. Keep your breathing steady. And when you're ready to fire, just squeeze the trigger gently."

You aimed at a target across the training room and squeezed the trigger, sending a blaster bolt flying. It missed the target by a wide margin, hitting the wall instead.

Anakin grinned, clearly amused. "Not bad for a first attempt. Remember, it takes practice. Let me show you again." He took the blaster from your hand and effortlessly hit the target dead center.

You raised an eyebrow, determined not to be outdone. "I can do better than that.”

“Prove it.” He said simply.

As you continued practicing, Anakin watched you, his eyes tracing over your form and taking in every movement. It made you feel self-conscious, but the thrill of his attention was undeniable.

The two of you spent the next half-hour in the training room, with Anakin patiently teaching you the intricacies of using the blaster. He was a skilled instructor, even if he was a little touchy. 

He continued to provide guidance, his proximity sending shivers down your spine. Your aim improved drastically, and you managed to hit the target dead center multiple times in a row. Anakin couldn't help but grin at your success. "See, I told you it just takes practice," he said, admiringly. “Now,  you should only use this weapon when you are in a guarded position, I don’t think you should use it on the battlefield, it is too bulky and requires too much stability which I don’t think you’re going to get a lot of.”

“Of course.” You couldn't help but focus on the sensation of his chest against your back, vibrating with his words. The firm grip of his hands on yours, and the intimate way he had adjusted your stance. Your heart raced, and you hoped he wouldn't notice 

Anakin stepped back, finally breaking the physical contact between you. "Remember, it's all about control and precision. You've got the potential for both."

You took a deep breath, determined to regain your focus. As you caught yourself, you tried to put some distance between the two of you. You didn’t want to give him the wrong impression, but you also didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Thank you, General. I appreciate your help.”

Anakin looked at you, his eyes softening, and his lips curving into a small smile. “You’re welcome. Anytime.”

You could sense something between you two- a tension that was hard to deny. You wondered if it was just you or if he felt it too. It was an unspoken attraction that neither of you wanted to address. Anakin stepped closer as he reclaimed the weapon from you hand, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something inexplicable in his eyes. ”You're a quick learner. Maybe you'll even surpass my skills one day."

You chuckled, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "We'll see about that, General Skywalker.”

Anakin nodded, his hand brushing against yours as he took the blaster from your grip. “I guess we will, but if you ever need a refresher you know where to find me.”

You nodded, your mind racing with the possibilities of what he meant by that. Did he mean that you could always come to him for training or was there something else there? The possibility of something more than just training sessions with Anakin made your heart race.

Your question was soon answered. With a slow, deliberate motion, Anakin leaned in, his lips inches from yours. The anticipation was electric, and it felt as though the entire galaxy held its breath.

Just as your lips were about to meet, the loud clang of a nearby training droid startled you both, breaking the spell. Anakin pulled back abruptly, a mixture of frustration and longing in his eyes.

“Duty calls,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

You nodded, trying to catch your breath. “Later, General.”

As Anakin left the training room, you couldn't help but feel a sense of deep disappointment. You had been so close to finally kissing him, but duty always seemed to get in the way of your desires.

But as you took a moment to catch your breath, you realised that Anakin's presence had left a lasting impression on you. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him, but you also knew that the Jedi Code prohibited relationships between Jedi. And you weren’t even sure the two of you would survive this war. 

But you couldn’t get him out of your head. You would continue to train with Anakin, improving your combat skills and enjoying the moments of intimacy that came. If he tried to kiss you again you would let him.

[whetstonefires]

Hello! For the reverse tropes writing prompts (if this catches your fancy) — murderbot diaries with fake amnesia and Really nice guy who hates only you

this is really not in the spirit of that second inverse trope, but for mb this was the only thing i could think of, and it was very funny.

=

"Gurathin," said Gurathin. "SecUnit, you know it's me."

"I don't think I know that," it said, pleasantly, in an okay but not excellent imitation of its creepy canned dialogue options. "Please present some identification, and we'll see."

Gurathin didn't bother sending his data over the feed again. Murderbot walked away, but left a drone eyeballing him. He resisted the urge to flip the drone off. "Come on," he told it, knowing SecUnit was paying attention. "Let me in."

He watched the SecUnit bend forward slightly to show two of Mensah's kids that it was paying attention to whatever they were saying, and then bend over further to help the toddler up onto a chair. It was just fucking with him now. On the other hand, if the prickly bastard started letting children hug it just to piss off Gurathin, who was the real loser?

It finished spoiling the children and moved over to smoothly de-escalate a brewing disagreement over the punch bowl. Gurathin tried to catch Pin-Lee's eye; she did not cooperate. Gurathin tried to walk through the open door; the hovering security drone took a potshot at him.

SecUnit got roped into conversation with Bharadwaj and her media colleagues. It said something that made everyone laugh. It wasn't scowling. It was faking looking people in the face pretty well; that was just creepy.

It went on like that; Gurathin had never seen it go this long interacting without pissing someone off. Presumably it was venting all of that impulse on him. Ratthi introduced it to his favorite cousin; zi was visibly charmed.

Gurathin goaded the drone into firing two more warning shots before the SecUnit circulated back over to him.

"SecUnit. Come on. You have known me for actual years. I helped you rob a place once."

"I don't recall."

"We met on that planetary survey mission, don't tell me you don't remember that one, it's the reason you're even here." That came out maybe a little harsh, but everyone was letting the SecUnit abuse the power of being entrusted with party security to bully him, he was allowed to be annoyed.

"Oh, were you there? That data must have been lost in a corrupted filetree," it said, with incredibly cutting blandness.

Gurathin groaned. "Okay! Okay. I'm sorry."

It technically counted as a reward when SecUnit stopped giving him the customer service face and switched to the hairy eyeball, which just showed how stupid this whole situation was. It was clearly not satisfied with just that.

"I'm sorry for using your personal name without permission. I wasn't trying to weaponize it or anything, it just slipped out, but I know that's not an excuse and it was a really inappropriate disrespect for your boundaries."

SecUnit kept looking at him. Gurathin knew two other SecUnits now, neither of whom was as supremely weird as this one; that was why he'd started mentally tagging it with its personal name, just to keep things tidy. Of course, if anyone else had done that and made the resulting mistake, SecUnit probably wouldn't have been half so mad.

Gurathin sagged.

"I'm sorry for going through your personal files and using your name against you back during the survey," he mumbled, wishing he kept drones around to control with his brain so he could watch SecUnit's extremely expressive face without having to look at it. "That was really shitty. Rim paranoia isn't a good enough excuse for refusing to see you as anything but a tool of the Company. Okay?"

SecUnit was looking as pained as though Gurathin had stripped naked in its presence. "Yes, fine, you can come to the party just stop having feelings," it said, in its normal voice.

"Great!" said Gurathin. "The spinach puffs had better not be all gone."

"I don't pay any attention to the things humans consume," it said, moving out of his way and taking its drone with it.

"I know," Gurathin acknowledged, rolling his eyes and trooping after it. Ratthi waved enthusiastically at him and Pin-Lee raised her cup in a welcoming toast. Apparently SecUnit's relenting returned him to the ranks of people who existed again. "Believe me, I remember this about you."

[wolfmoonmusic]

hiiii!!! would u mind writing a request for a darkling x reader fanfic where r nearly dies on a trip through the shadow fold and he gets upset when he sees her training to go back through to complete the mission and tells her to come to his office where he gets all soft and tells her he can’t loser her and that she’s his other half and basically after that everyone knows that she is his equal and nobody else can ever compare to her 😭🤭🤭💗

Reassurances

Summary: You nearly die, and the Darkling gets upset.

w/c: 1880+

Pairing: Darkling x female!tidemaker!reader

Warnings: Self-hatred, never being enough, mentions of death and injuries

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’d come to Ravka of your own free will.

Not as a refugee Grisha. Technically.

You had run away though. Away from an abusive home, where you were constantly told that you were not enough. Never would be.

And the Little Palace was perfect. 

“Snap out of your daydreams about the General, Y/N. We’re ready.”

Your eyes grew wide, as you spun around, finding Zoya smirking at you. And not far behind was the General himself, watching with an amused yet bewildered look on his face. You gave him a sheepish smile before following Zoya to the middle of the ship. “For your information, I wasn’t thinking about him,” you seethed. “No,” she said, signaling to an Inferni, “but you were getting there,” she said, turning back to you. You mock her, causing her to smirk, before getting to your station.

“Remember,” Kirigan started, turning to face all of you, “We just want to test this method. That’s all we’re going in for.”

You didn’t miss the whispers that sounded from all around you.

“Why did he choose her?”

“She’s so new.”

“We’re all going to die.”

“There are so many more experienced Tidemakers, her power won’t be enough.”

You shut your eyes, trying to drown them out when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Your eyes fluttered open to find Zoya in front of you. “Kirigan wants to know if this is too much for you,” she said, worry evident in her eyes. Your eyes flickered to Kirigan, watching his eyes on yours, a blank expression on his face.

He thinks you can’t do it. That you’re too weak.

You shook your head, “I can do it.”

Zoya nodded, before turning around and repeating the action to the General, but his eyes never left yours. 

You cleared your throat, focusing on the Fold in front of you, as the ship lurched forward. 

People were yelling instructions all over the ship as you tried to focus on the task at hand. 

“Once we’ve entered, you’ll create a dome of water around the ship. An Inferni will start a fire, which hopefully, thanks to your dome, will be refracted in multiple directions, throwing the Volcra off,” Kirigan told you.

“You think I can do it? Wouldn’t someone else be better fit for the job?”

“I do. But I don’t want you to do it, unless you think you can.”

Your eyes flickered to Kirigan again, who was now facing the Fold.

Truth be told, you didn’t think you could do it. You felt absolutely worthless, and everyone’s whispers weren’t helping.

Yes, the Little Palace was perfect. Everyone was nice. But you couldn’t handle the stares that you received ever since it’d been announced that you’d be handling this. No one knew your past. No one knew how it’d affected you. 

All they saw was the instant liking that Kirigan took to you. The way you’d sometimes spend entire days alone while other days you’d be like a ball of sunshine. It made no sense to most, but then again, everyone had their own trauma to handle.

Your hands trembled as you counted the seconds you’d spent inside the fold. Your eyes were on Kirigan, waiting for his signal. 

And it couldn’t have come sooner.

He looked back to you, nodding briefly. 

You focused on your hands, imagining water flowing through them, as you waved them in the air in a dome like shape, watching as water followed your motions. You kept your hands up, thinning out the layer of water, keeping it steady and from falling all over everyone on the ship. 

You caught Zoya looking at you from the corner of your eye, nodding to you before signaling to the Inferni. Your eyes landed on Kirigan, who gave you a brief nod, eyes shining with an expression you’d never seen anyone look at you with before. 

The Inferni got a good fire going, and as Kirigan had said, the light refracted beautifully. 

It couldn’t destroy the Fold. But it’d be easier to get across.

Just as you thought this would actually work, the first Volcra attacked.

You struggled to keep the water barrier up as it pounded again and again through it. 

Panic built in your chest as more appeared, clearly understanding the trick you’d played.

Everyone started rushing about preparing for a fight.

“Don’t you dare let go!” someone yelled at you, “If you do, we're all dead!”

Your hands trembled. 

They were right. You weren’t enough. You never would be. 

As the negative thoughts swirled in your mind, you felt yourself lose control of the water dome, and it came crashing down on the boat. 

Your breath became unsteady as you failed to process what was going on through all of the screaming. Volcra were all over, snatching people, throwing them overboard. The piercing shrieks of everyone around you sent a searing pain rippling through your head.

Or maybe it was the sharp object that had pierced through your left shoulder.

A blood curdling scream ripped through your throat as you felt yourself being lifted off the ground.

Your vision blurred as fear and pain surged through you. 

The next thing you knew you were falling in the dark, before everything went quiet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Recuperation was a foreign concept to you. In your house, it’d always been that way. The second you can think, talk, walk and move at least one arm, you had to get back to your normal schedule. 

So that’s what you did. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, more disgusted at yourself than you had been before the accident.

That’s what everyone called it now anyways.  Your left hand was in a sling. The healers did their best, but since it was a wound caused by a Volcra, it wasn’t healed completely. You ran your right hand over the black streaks across your shoulder, as they branched out all over your arms.

They would never go away.

There were different versions to the story. But, the most common one was that Kirigan had ordered one of the Inferni to kill the Volcra, and he caught you as you fell. And everyone who had told you this, had also added their comment about how you weren’t ready yet, and that Kirigan had made a mistake.

Of course it wasn’t hatred then. Only those who had been on the ship despised you for getting the others killed. No, everyone else had answered you with pity. Because that was the emotion shown to the weak.

You sighed, slipping on a coat over your tank top, wincing slightly at the way it sat on your shoulder.

The door opened, startling you out of your angry gaze on yourself. 

“You shouldn’t be up yet,” Genya said, coming to stand behind you, her gaze soft. 

“I have to train,” you said, turning around to face her.

“Y/N-”

“I messed up. I messed up and I can’t do that again.”

“You can’t summon without both your hands,” she said, gently as if speaking any louder would break you.

“I’ll train in hand - to - hand combat ‘till then,” you replied, moving to walk past her. 

“Y/N, you need rest.”

“I’m fine,” you said, slamming the door behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were not fine.

Your right hand wouldn’t work like it usually did, and the fake sword in your hand felt heavier than usual. You cursed out as the sword fell from your hand a third time, Zoya watching. “You need to stop this foolishness,” she said, a stern look on her face. 

“You should go mind the others,” you muttered, annoyed, eyeing her as you picked up the sword. 

“The others aren’t ignoring their injuries,” she bit back.

She watched you try to swing it around once more, before standing in attention abruptly, her eyes landing on something behind you.

“What is the meaning of this?” 

Someone behind you.

You dropped the sword, spinning around to find Kirigan behind you, an angry look on his face. 

Zoya cleared her throat, “Sir-”

“I didn’t ask you,” he said, dark eyes fixated on you.

“I can’t summon yet sir. So I thought I would try hand-to-hand combat first,” you replied feeling terrible. You were so upset with yourself. 2 weeks should have been enough. You were only proving what everyone was saying.

“Follow me,” he ordered, walking away. You looked back to Zoya, shocked, but she only nodded you on. 

You ran after him hurriedly, worried about what was going to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kirigan had brought you to his office and had been absolutely quite ever since.

He was sitting on the edge of his table, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand. 

“Gener-”

“Call me Aleksander,” he says, finally looking up to meet your gaze.

You feel your cheeks heat up as you nod quickly. He got up, walking over to you, stopping just in front. 

“I know why you push yourself so much,” he whispered, his gaze never leaving your eyes as he took your hands in his.

You stood there dumbfounded, waiting for him to explain. He tilted his head to the side, running his thumb over your knuckles. “The first day that you came here, you were so hurt, you were blabbering in your sleep. You kept asking your parents to stop. And right before I had asked Genya to put you to sleep, you muttered that you’d never be good enough,” he revealed.

You felt your eyes start to water, and you looked down at your joined hands, feeling embarrassed and scared. One of Aleksander’s hands left yours, reaching up to your chin instead, and gently tilting your face upwards. “I wasn’t enough that day either. You trusted me and- and I failed. The Volcra should’ve taken me, I deserve that punishment,” you cried, closing your eyes. “Y/N, look at me. Open those pretty of yours….please,” he whispered.

You did, surprised by the soft, caring look he was giving you. “If the Volcra had done something to you, I would have never been able to forgive myself. Because you are more than just a Grisha to me. You are my better half to say the least. Moreover, you are enough. You are my equal. Your parents were blind. I gave you that job because I knew you could do it. No one else compares to you. In any way. And you will be the one to handle it. Once you are completely healed that is,” he said, smiling softly. He dropped your other hand as well, gently wiping the tears from your face.

You couldn’t help the surge of emotion that ran through you as a smile crept up your face. His hands were now cupping your face, as he leaned in, pausing just before his lips landed on yours. “May I?” he whispered, his breath mixing with yours. You nodded, your stomach knotting up.

His lips landed on yours finally, merging both of you together as one. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin as his hands dropped to your waist, pulling you even closer to him. For the first time in your life, you felt…

…wanted.

He pulled away gently, his eyes bright. 

“Promise me you will rest?” he asked.

“If you’ll stay with me as long as you can,” you said sheepishly.

“Of course, my little tide,” he grinned.

Taglists: @pinchofhoney @lila-kille @emmnf1 @foulkryptonitepeanut @peaches1958