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bb-eilish · 8 months

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manipulative anakin

pairing; drunk!husband!anakin x wife!reader

warnings; coercion, anakin isn’t very nice, normal sex stuff, manipulation x 100.

a/n; from my headcannons about manipulative husband anakin, expect more!! this is 2 fics in one bc i needed to write his different moods!!

more reserved

You were tired, the couch you were on was becoming more and more inviting as your head falls to the arm of the furniture. Anakin was supposed to be home 3 hours ago, you couldn't possibly sleep while not knowing where he was.

The anger that simmered below the surface of your skin was growing bigger and bigger, so when he finally pushed open the door at 3:12 am, you were pissed off, tired, but still pissed off nonetheless.

"Anakin?" You sleepily call out, sitting up and eventually standing after rubbing your eyes. "You said you'd be back hours ago."

He doesn't bother kicking off his shoes before stepping towards you, swaying a little from the alcohol. His gaze is sinful in and of itself, they stare down at you and practically melt your insides. The anger in you dissipates the closer he gets.

"My poor little wife, worrying about me." He begins, reaching out to twirl a lock of your hair. "So sweet for me, aren't you?" Anakin abandons the strands of hair to cradle your jaw, caressing your cheek with his thumb. The sweet moment passes when his thumb drifts to your bottom lip, tracing the plumpness before pulling it down slightly. His own bottom lip is tucked under his front teeth as he stares at his thumb breaching your mouth. Your saliva clings to the digit and he pulls it out to spread the liquid obscenely over your lips and cheek.

You have half a mind to drop to your knees right then and there but you pull away and shake your head, wiping the spit from your face.

"You're drunk, you need to go to bed." The words are weak as they leave your lips, but you try and put on a serious demeanor. It falters the second his arm loops around your waist and pulls you into him. His chest and torso are hard when you make contact with them and it has you letting out a shaky breath.

"Anakin.." You start, soon interrupted by a harsh tug at your hair, his free hand has snaked its way up to the back of your head and gripped the strands tightly. The surprised whine that leaves you has him smirking slyly. Tilting your head up to properly look him in the eyes he speaks, "You know how much I love this slutty little dress on you, you knew this would happen, didn't you?"

The room feels as though it's devoid of air as you gulp. "No, I..it's been hot recently." You blush, neck beginning to ache at the way he's craning your head. The warmth that envelopes you both settles into your every pore and opening, everything is on fire. Especially when he tilts your head to the side so your cheek is facing him, he leans in and all you can smell is his musk and the Corellian whiskey that is his breath. His nose prods the skin that faces him, all the way down to your neck where he greedily and sloppily leaves open mouthed kisses.

"Ani, y-you need to...go to bed." The words are breathy and unconvincing, probably because your eyes are shut and your mind is already starting to become fuzzy. Your warm hands clutch the fabric of his shirt to stabilize yourself before you completely turn into a puddle on the spot.

His tantalizing lips trail softly to your shoulder and bite down on the strap of your sleep dress, pulling it down so it drifts down your arm and towards your elbow.

"We shouldn't, you're drunk." You try and reason, looking into his lidded, lust-blown, eyes.

Instead of answering you right away he lets your hair go and grips your hips, guiding you to lean against the arm of the couch before leaning in to capture your lips for the first time that night. He tastes just how he smells. The kiss has your knees weak and resolve cracking, he even kisses the corner of your mouth after he pulls away.

"My pretty, little wife, won't you do it for me?" He says as he leans his forehead against the side of your temple. "Your husband needs you, won't you help him?"

The last straw was when his hand hooks a finger into the already sagging fabric that covers your chest, and drags it down to expose one of your breasts. The cool air nips at the newly bared skin. As soon as lips make contact with your hardened nipple you're breaking.

"O-okay, I’ll help."

He grins against your breast and slides his hands down to your thighs, lifting you up easily and marching off to your bedroom.

Once there he drops you onto the mattress below and makes do at getting the thin material of your dress up and off.

“This was on purpose wasn’t it? Bet you sat on the couch and thought of me, thought of me getting my hands on you.”

Anakin has you sit on him and prove you’re worthy of getting his cock by grinding your soaking cunt up and down his shaft. He watches you greedily while smacking, pinching, and groping your skin to his will.

The skin of your ass and breasts are raw when he finally bends you over and pushes into you, doesn’t loosen you up first beforehand, he doesn’t see the point. His hips smack into your ass as he presses a hand to your throat, lifting your head up. Before he sucks the sweat from your skin messily.

“Was thinking about you, thinking about this, all night long. Couldn’t pay attention to a word my friends were saying.” His words are slurred but you were absolutely gone at that moment, his words and the feeling of his broad and muscular form completely shadowing your own figure brought you that much closer to the edge.

After he stuffs you full, his fingers descend and push the dripping liquid back in before patting your sore cunt appreciatively.

more forceful

The skin around your nails throb in pain as you bite and chew it, worry eats at you as you wait on the couch for your husband. Your husband who said he'd be back 3 hours ago. When the door finally opens your arms are crossed over your chest in frustration.

"Anakin, you said you'd be back 3 hours ago. What happened?" You ask as you stand up. Anakin already looks like he's had enough when he looks your way. His eyebrows are knitted together and his jaw clenches.

"You are my wife, not my Mother, I will stay out as long as I please." He pauses his slurred words as he walks forward to grip your jaw harshly. "You are nothing but a hole for me to fuck, to fill up with my cum whenever I so please. If i want to come home late I will, and all you're going to do about it is spread your legs and take what I give you, understood?"

His words shouldn't have gotten to you as much as they did, you should be upset, threatening to leave him, but instead you're nodding your head pliantly and yearning for the feel of his hands on you once more. He smirks deviously at your submission and moves his hand to grip your throat to bring you into a dizzying kiss. It's teethy and wet and maker does it have the wetness between your thighs burn for him brightly.

Your hands are soon pushing at his chest. "We shouldn't, you're drunk." He narrows his eyes in response and you feel like prey caught by a predator as he towers over you. He leans down to whisper into your awaiting ear.

"So if i tear your panties off right now and have a look for myself, you won't be soaking wet for me? You won't beg me to fill you up and fuck you full?” You flush and stumble over your words trying to come up with something to say, but it’s no use. How could you not beg him to do what he’s best at?

He grins smugly and tightens his hold on your throat, “That’s right, cuz your mine, my cum rag, my clock sleeve, my bitch, my little wife. Do you want me?” He says the last parts slowly and meaningfully.

You whine out at his words, eyes glazing over as you nod.

“Wait for me on our bed, and take this off before I meet you in there, got it?” He asks with an expectant look.

Minutes later he’s harshly groping you and pinching your nipples meanly, you cry out under him and pant out the hot air of the room. He’s been rutting his clothed hips right onto your clenching cunt, the crotch of the fabric now wet from a mixture of the both of you.

“Look at you, already dumb and needy. You look the best like this, crying and fucked out for me. Are you ready for me, baby? I know you want my cock.”

His harsh words aren’t anything less than painstakingly arousing and it’s clear when your clit throbs for him.

Sex with him when he’s like this was downright gross, disgusting in every meaning of the word. His hips meet yours in harsh and unforgiving thrusts as he spews crude and demeaning words.

“My wife has such a needy fucking pussy, always needs my cum to function, don’t you?” He pauses to raise a hand and smack you across the cheek hotly. “Doesn’t it?” He grits out the words from behind his clenched teeth.

At one point he spits in your mouth and some gets on your cheek so he spreads it around grossly with a cruel smile. The tears and sweat that collects on your skin is lapped up by this tongue, it’s clear he wants everything you’re able to give him.

When he cums he’s choking the life out of you, his grip around your throat ceases the air from filling up your lungs, you choke out some words and your vision even becomes fuzzy as you claw at his hands. Then he’s filling you up and letting up around your windpipe after a few milking thrusts.

“I don’t want to hear you complain again, and if I do i’ll be sure to fix your attitude accordingly.” He threatens before pulling out and collecting a mix of both your cum on his fingers, he stuffs the digits in your mouth and spreads the concoction across your skin.

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars smut #star wars x reader #anakin smut #anakin x reader

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skyahri · 2 months

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Retire |Kakashi X Reader| HC

Summary: You need some convincing to leave ANBU.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and depression. Mentions of suicide. A bit angsty and self-destructive, but fluffy overall.

- - - - -

Even though he'd retired a few years back, you were still an active ANBU captain.

The job was grueling, and he was well aware that the longer you stayed, the worse the missions became.

That isn't just because of the overall baggage people acquire, but because seasoned black ops were often sent on the more... unethical missions.

You'd been acting off recently. He had let it go at first, knowing how taxing the line of work could be, but something in his mind was bugging him to investigate.

He assumed everything had started to actually get to you, so he decided to check in on you between missions with team 7.

He knocked on your door. It took a minute, but you answered.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but this wasn't it.

Your appearance was appalling.

You'd lost a lot of weight, you had bags under your eyes, and you reeked of alcohol.

"Just checking in on you. It's been a while."

"Yeah, Tsunade has me on back to back missions. This is my first break in months."

He had assumed his intensive schedule with his team was the thing keeping you two apart, but apparently not.

"How about you get cleaned up while I go get us something to eat? My treat."

"I'm pretty tired, Kashi. I think I'd like to continue rotting for the time being. Thanks for the offer, though."

You gently shut the door in his face.

A sour look plastered itself on his face.

Unfortunately, your use of rotting didn't seem too far off, so he decided to talk to a third party about it.

His first stop was to see Tenzo. Maybe he knew what was up since you two worked so closely.

"I've noticed as well. I tried to ask, but they told me it wasn't appropriate for subordinates to question their captain."

Add that to the list of odd behavior.

You loved Tenzo like family, just like Kakashi did, so the sudden change was worrisome.

He went to ask Asuma as well, knowing he had been in the village more often than he had recently.

Asuma pulled him inside his home and away from prying eyes. Last thing he wanted was the wrong person hearing such a sensitive information.

"We already talked to Tsunade about it months ago when we noticed a decline in her health. Word got back to them, they said something about breach of trust, and they haven't spoken to any of us since."

Kakashi just nodded.

He remembered a time where he also reacted poorly when he'd been questioned in a similar manner.

The only difference is lord Third actually listened instead of allowing him to dig himself deeper into an early grave.

He dwelled on it for a few days.

He cared about you deeply. It was different than any of his other friendships- more personal and open.

The last thing he wanted was to go behind your back and end up with the same treatment the rest of the group was getting.

So he put on his big boy pants and showed up at your door again with vengeance.

He had been practicing what he'd say the whole way over. He needed to be prepared for anything you threw at him so he didn't falter.

But when you opened the door, his fire simmered out.

You just looked so tired.

His words got stuck in his throat.

So he did the only thing he could think of - he just walked forward, straight into you, and wrapped you up in a hug.

You resisted at first, but the second his warmth hit your bones, you relaxed.

It only lasted for a moment before the feelings started to set in, causing your body to shake with sobs.

You fell to the ground, dragging him with you, but his hold didn't loosen one bit.

"It's okay. I'm here for you."

That only made things worse. Something about his comfort was making all the feelings you've worked so hard to repress bubble up to the surface.

After you'd visibly calmed down, he'd picked you up and carried you to the couch. He positioned you so you'd be touching as much as possible without him being too forward.

"I hate ANBU."

Straight to the point. He wasn't sure if that was good or not.

"Why don't you retire? It's been almost fifteen years. That's way longer than most make it."

You hesitated. You had a reason, but the thought of saying it out loud made it sound so silly.

One look at Kakashi’s face told you he wasn't messing around.

You sighed and leaned your head on his shoulder. It made it easier to answer without him looking at you.

"If it's not me going out there, its someone else. I'm already too far gone, may as well save someone else from this fate."

Oh.

Kakashi had fully been expecting some sort of 'I can handle it' response, but this one was so... awful. Just absolutely heart-wrenching.

He collected his thoughts, trying to find a way to reason with you.

"There are people in ANBU who can handle that kind of mental load. You were that person many years ago,"

You just looked at him with that sad, defeated face, and it broke his heart all over again.

"But that's not the case anymore. It's time to pass on the torch."

You shook your head, ready to get up and kick him out. He just pulled you back down and held your hands in his.

"I was so angry when I was forced to retire. I felt like I could do more, like it wasn't that bad, and everyone was underestimating me. Do you know what happens when shinobi like us aren't told to quit?"

You shook your head.

"They end up like my father."

You stayed silent after that. How could you argue when he had just pulled the dead dad card?

So you promised to think about it.

He knew that would be as good as it would get, so he dropped it and opted to switch to a lighter subject.

After an hour or so of talking, you fell asleep. He carried you to your bed and tucked you in. He thought about staying over, but decided against it.

He didn't see you the next day. He'd knocked on your door, but no one answered, and he couldn't sense you inside.

He hoped you were just busy and not on another mission.

He did see you the next day, however.

He was heading to the Hokage's tower to chat with Tsunade about team 7's next mission when he bumped into you.

You smiled at him.

It felt like he was looking at a different person. You were almost glowing. Your eyes seemed a bit brighter, face looked a little fuller, and overall vibe was less damming.

"I retired this morning."

He damn near hugged you in front of the whole village.

"That's great to hear."

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto headcanons #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi headcanons #kakashi fluff #kakashi x reader #kakashi sensei #kakashi hatake #hatake kakashi

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adrinktostopyourthirst · 1 month

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Bucky Barnes | Series | Loose

Part two of the Rebellion Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: You and Bucky have no idea whether you can trust each other. There is an understanding, but you're not sure of what that understanding is and why it seems to run so deep.

Warning: Angst, violence and fluff (?)

Words: 4,1OO

It is hard enough already for Bucky to fall asleep at night. Yes, it has gotten better in recent years, but there will always be that part of him – awake and aware – that registers every sound and movement, even when he should be knocked out. Though he wouldn’t admit it, that part of him sat more alert ever since you had joined the building. Perhaps because Bucky still wasn’t so confident in your allegiance.

He can’t stop overthinking it. He has seen what you’re capable of. Would you be capable of even more if people cornered you? If you felt like you had no other choice but to manipulate and kill your way out? After all, wasn’t it possible that you felt like you had moved from one prison to the next?

You’d been a delight at dinner two nights ago, but Bucky can’t turn off his brain. This is the part that made you win people over. The way you’d gotten along with Natasha like a house on fire, the way you’d shared stories like you and his team had been friends all along… Yet you had no trouble letting a side of yours slip through the cracks that tantalised Bucky beyond belief. The way you had looked at him, teased him–

The faintest rustle has Bucky shooting back to his current place in time. Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. He holds his breath in an effort to hear better.

Nothing.

However, something doesn’t sit right. Something is off. He’d learned that hypervigilance was a side effect of his trauma, but he had a hard time believing his intuition would betray him like that. Not when he had relied on it so successfully for years.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” he whispers to the dark ceiling.

“Yes, sergeant Barnes?”

“Is everyone in their respectable rooms?” he tries.

“I cannot divulge that information,” the voice sounds and Bucky sighs. He musters up some strength and swings off his duvet before climbing out of bed.

Yeah, he doesn’t trust you for a second.

…

Your heart is pounding in your throat. This isn’t part of your skillset – the escape and combat. Though perhaps if you do the former correctly, you won’t have to resort to the latter. Escaping the compound had been surprisingly easy, which strangely made your chest hurt. It was way too easy to escape. But it made sense. Steve had told you that you weren’t being held captive and you being here was all in good faith.

Faith you just broke by making your escape.

You probably should have been more patient. Winning their trust a bit more and then making an escape, make sure they really don’t see it coming. But the dinner had made you antsy and impatient. You had to get out.

If you’re entirely honest with yourself, you know that getting attached to a new group of people and deciding to escape then – or worse, leading them into their demise later – would be worse than getting away now that no one has attached themselves to you. Or you to them…

Breaching the edge of the surrounding forest, you finally let go of the breath you’ve been holding. You did it. Out of sight, out of mind. You’re free. No more captivity, no more expectations. All you need to do now is leave the country, change your name and possibly dye your hair. Sounds easy enough. A bit dramatic, but not impossible.

That is, until you get dragged backwards by a hand over your mouth and you lose your footing. The hard body behind you is the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the muddy forest grounds. Your breathing is ragged as your hands both fly to grab the forearm attached to the hand covering your yelp.

The metal forearm.

“Rule number one of making your escape: never assume you’re in the clear,” Bucky’s voice rumbles through the night air, his mouth so very close to your ear. “Shouldn’t have dropped your guard when you reached the edge of the forest.”

His gloved hand removes itself from your mouth, but you know better than to make a run for it, or to scream. He twists you by your shoulders and you muster some playful guilt to your face, masking your disappointment. Disappointment… but you feel strangely relieved. Maybe the largeness of finally being free felt somewhat overwhelming. Move to another country and change your name? It’s ridiculous. And that, when the people here have been so patient and kind to you…

You let out a soft laugh, “Worth a shot, no?”

Bucky studies you intently and something in your gut stirs at it. Not even Natasha seems to have as good of a read on you as Bucky does. It makes you feel naked. Makes you feel like all of your carefully crafted plans are flimsy and no good. Makes you feel like you have to stay far, far away from Bucky. Like you need to run. Now.

And how the hell did he manage to figure out you were making your escape?

You wait for him to tell you off, preach against your indolence and call in backup to shove you into something more similar to a prison cell. But Bucky sighs, disappointed and tired.

He seems so, so tired.

“Let’s go back inside,” he says and you furrow your brows at him.

His defeat has your chest clenching tightly. You want him to punish you, scold you. At least show that he cares. Why? You’re not sure. Maybe you need to know that the relief you felt from being caught is somewhat mutual in a sense. That the people here don’t just see you as a weapon, despite the burden, but that you’re someone worth saving. Worth keeping around.

Worth healing.

“That’s it?” you ask. “No scolding or punishment?”

Bucky scoffs humourlessly. “You get a kick out of punishment, darling?”

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.”

“I’m not your fucking baby sitter,” he mutters and starts walking back to the building, rightfully assuming you’ll follow. “If you want, I can ask Steve to tell you off in the morning. He’s better at that sort of thing anyway.”

Some pathetic part of you wants to sulk at his response like an ill-tempered child. “Then why come after me?”

It stays quiet for a second as you cross the field towards the compound. “I couldn’t let a poor escape plan be successful.”

You can’t help but snort at that answer and decide that fine, you’d play along for now. But you wonder if the curious Bucky you’d seen a few days ago had completely vanished since that dinner.

…

The next morning, Bucky gets cornered by you after breakfast. He looks down his nose at your defiant face.

“You didn’t tell anyone about last night?” you ask him and he raises his brows, unimpressed.

It had surprised you that no one at breakfast mentioned anything or gave you even so much as a dirty look. Clearly, none of them are aware that you tried to make your escape last night. And you cannot for the life of you figure out why Bucky is taking it easy on you. Is he smart enough to assume that your own guilt will do more damage than he ever could? Is this part of some bigger scheme of his? Perhaps he is actually as tired and unbothered as he looked when you saw him in those woods.

“What happened last night?” he asks with a telling smirk. The current look on your face is worth the lack of sleep he had tonight. It’s too easy to rattle you. You roll your eyes and Bucky smirks even wider at that. Is he… flirting?

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” you try again.

Bucky remains quiet and fights to keep a straight face. He did expect your question, but why didn’t he tell anyone? Because he thought you and him would get along after those tiny moments during that first dinner. Because the team would have let you walk away. Because Bucky doesn’t want you to go. Because he thinks he can help. Help the world. Help you. He thinks he can help you. And you can help him. And–

“Want me to tell them now?” he says instead.

He barely notices the flash of panic in your eyes before you cover it with an annoyed scoff and turn on your heel to walk away. He watches you. Every step until you are out of sight.

“You said she trusts you,” Steve’s voice sounds from behind him and Bucky schools his face back to bland interest before he turns to Steve. “That doesn’t look like she trusts you.”

“It’s a work in progress.”

Steve frowns pensively. “Well, speed up the process. We have an important mission and we need her for it.”

“What?” Bucky almost loses his restraint, his body flaring in alarm. “Steve, she hasn’t had any training. She was locked up for months. It’s too big of a risk–”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate, Buck,” Steve tells him regretfully, but instantly notices that Bucky isn’t buying it. “This is the thing we needed her for.”

“She isn’t some kind of weapon!” Bucky exclaims and he notices Natasha turning away from her conversation in the nearest common room to see what the commotion is about. He gives her a warning look, then lowers his voice. “Steve. This could’ve been me,” Bucky breathes. And there it is. Recognition flickers in Steve’s eyes. “We can’t use her like this. She’s all alone.”

Steve looks past Bucky’s shoulder as if you’re still walking away from him. Angry frown, uptilted chin and swaying hips– Bucky almost looks. Then Steve sighs and looks back at his friend. “Take all the time you need. If she’s ready, I’ll explain the mission to her. I think she might want to help.”

…

Bucky reads over the file until his eyes turn bleary. Steve was right, you will want to help.

He thinks you can handle it, but… what if you encounter a trigger on the way? What if it all becomes too much? Bucky realises he isn’t nearly close enough to care this much, and he doesn’t, but who else but him is going to care whether you live or die? Sometimes Bucky wonders if even you care whether you live or die. What would have happened to Bucky if everyone had given up on him? He knows damn well that he’d be long dead if not so many people found him useful.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Bucky never had a choice. So he finds himself knocking at your door at 10pm with the file in hand.

After opening the door, you barely manage to get a word out before Bucky extends the folder towards you. “Steve needs your help on this. It should be fine, but the choice is up to you.”

Quick. Brief. He’s just the messenger and the decision is all yours. Bucky turns and makes to walk away – before you can spot all of the thoughts crossing his mind – but your voice stops him.

“Will you be there?”

The question takes him by surprise. Turning back towards you and slowly walking to the doorframe you’re standing under, he creases his brows together. “You need me to come along?”

You shrug abashedly. “Will you?”

Bucky studies your face intently. “Yes,” he lies. He’ll figure something out with Steve.

“What if I can’t do what you need me to do?” There it is again. He doesn’t get why this vulnerable side of you keeps surprising him so much.

“You’ll be useful,” are his terrible words of comfort. He wants to palm himself in the face.

The suppressed smile you give him heats his face and he’s sure you’ll call him out on his horrible people skills, but you stay quiet. The silence grows and grows and Bucky starts to shift nonchalantly, wondering if he should walk off and let you read the file in private.

“Okay,” you say softly.

“You’re coming?”

“Yes,” you affirm and look up at him, handing the file back. “Do you not want me to go?”

“It’s your choice,” he tells you and gently takes the folder.

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Some wall snaps up inside of him at that tone – at that hopeful look in your eyes. “You could use the mission to make your escape,” he says with a shrug and makes to turn away from you again. “I won’t stop you this time.”

He walks away, leaving you to gape at his retreating form.

…

The mission was simple enough.

Sam, Natasha, Bucky and you would be attending a gala. Supposedly, there is a certain divide between the guests in attendance. Your job is mainly to feel out just who will be willing to join your cause. What goes unsaid is that you’re also required to butter them up to spring into action when your team would deem it necessary.

The party is in full swing and everyone is finally losing their mask of formality and enjoying their evening. You just hit the sweet spot of their susceptibility and you sweep into casual conversation about politics. Seeing who keeps quiet, who isn’t scared to speak up, whose faces harden at the prospect of change, etcetera. All of your antennas are on and when you know people have stopped paying attention to you, that’s when you dare a glance across the room where you know Bucky is standing.

All dapper and handsome, wearing a very expensive suit.

All of you have taken thorough action to look exceptional and to blend in perfectly with the high class crowd. Being charming is easy enough, looking it was a necessity – yet, all of it does still feel very far removed from yourself. Like a betrayal to the woman who was locked up mere weeks ago. However, being a true professional, you don’t allow your thoughts to linger too much and channel back to the matter at hand.

Then you feel it.

The searing heat that starts at your legs and spreads all the way up to your chest and cheeks. Like a virus burning over your skin. And you know what it is – know who it is. So you look back in the direction of Bucky, if only to catch him in the act.

But he’s unbothered. Brooding and observing from the bar in the shadow of the room, somehow alone and undiscovered by most of the crowd (a skill you assume he has acquired over the years). And his eyes are still on you. They glide down and back up for even more emphasis and you swallow away the dryness in your throat.

Gliding a sensual hand over the arm of the man next to you, you excuse yourself with a warm smile and slowly stride over to the culprit. Bucky waits patiently, and you swear you see a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as you walk over. He hands you a spare glass of champagne and turns his back to the room when you’re close enough to hear him.

“It’s working,” he says and you swear he sounds slightly impressed.

“Did you assume I’d fuck up?” you taunt and lean over the bar, sipping at the glass flute between your fingers. Bucky turns to you and his eyes sweep over the curve of your partly exposed back, the hollow of your spine and the curve of your ass. Then he holds his breath for a moment.

“Wouldn’t be mad if you did,” he tells you and his tone sounds gentle. You know that’s why he’s here, even though neither of you said it out loud, you know he’s here to stick up for you if you can’t get it done yet. If you’re not ready to be that person again.

Just like he probably knows that you’re here because the guilt of trying to escape from your saviours was eating you alive. And you didn’t want to prove Bucky right by escaping. You had glanced at the exits a few times and debated it, yes, but then looked at your team and thought against it. Looked at Bucky and–

“We’ll leave in five minutes,” Bucky murmurs as he finishes his glass. “I noted down all the people you signed as potential allies and who definitely isn’t.”

“There’s a few we can convince to help,” you cut in.

“What? The woman who runs that capitalist shitshow?” Bucky frowns. “Nah, she’s only motivated by money.”

You smile at him knowingly. “Money is a great motivator and our movement could benefit her greatly, so you just have to nudge her in the right direction.”

Bucky studies your face then and you might have found it less penetrating when he looked at your body with that stare. That intrigue. “And you already have a plan to tip her over to our side,” he concludes.

“You chose me for this for a reason, did you not?” you ask.

His eyes drop to your mouth. “I like a woman who takes her job seriously.”

You have no idea where that came from, but decide to go along with it anyway. You smirk and empty your flute, gently setting it down on the bar after. “Here I was, thinking you didn’t like anyone,” you purr and saunter off to find your other teammates and round up today’s mission.

You turn around when you hear Bucky yelling out your name, but then the room spins and debris flies everywhere. You’d cry out if the wind didn’t whoosh from your body and your ears don’t hollow out. You want to voice your discovery, as futile as it is, but the scream dies in your throat.

Someone just blew up the building.

…

It feels like there’s ash in your mouth. And throat. Your body bleats in pain, but nothing too severely. Maybe you’re in shock. Maybe you can’t feel a limb that’s no longer there. Maybe–

The room is dark except for an orange hue that travels over the ceiling and walls every few seconds. You’re slumped in a velvet chair and your fingers pluck softly at the fabric. One by one, your senses weave together and you hear the soft sounds of someone working on something. Paper ruffling, some gentle work, someone who’s trying to be quiet. You rasp in a raw breath and see a shadow at the bottom of your vision. But your body is relaxed. Or… Well, as relaxed as it can be.

There was an explosion.

“Have some water,” Bucky offers from his kneeling position between your legs and nudges his chin to the glass at the small table next to your chair. His voice is soft, raw. And when you squint at him while you blindly reach for the glass, you see soot on his face, dust on his suit.

“Are you alright?” you ask and your voice reminds you to take the drink. The water feels like heaven in your throat and you nearly gulp down the whole glass.

Bucky pauses at your question and surely he didn’t expect that to be your first question. “I’m fine,” he grumbles and focuses on the task at hand. Which, you quickly realise, is cleaning up the wound on your thigh.

Next to him, there’s a small container with small shards of glass in there and a used pair of tweezers. You feel the prickle of the wound at your thigh and observe closely as he presses some gauze to the puncture wounds. His hands are firm and steady as he wraps a bandage around your thigh to secure the gauze. His calluses scrape against your soft skin and you almost swear he takes more time than he should securing the bandage.

You heave a deep sigh and straighten up in the chair. “Natasha and Sam?”

“Natasha was sent to hunt down the ones responsible and needed an aerial patrol, so she took Sam.” Bucky clenches his jaw and you have a feeling it took some convincing to get Bucky to not go after the bastards himself, to let Natasha handle it instead. “There were deaths, lots of wounded.”

You flinch at that.

Bucky notices it. The glaze over your eyes and the tightening of your fingers into the soft fabric of the chair. He barely allows himself to hesitate and he cover your left hand with his right one, taking your fingers and stroking his thumb over your knuckles. “We got out as many as we could, no one saw the explosion coming,” he explains and hopes the information brings you some peace. He’s desperate to take that haunted look off your face, but doesn’t know how.

He gives you time then. Allows you to sort through your memories and shush them. He strokes his thumb gently and squeezes your fingers every once in a while to anchor you to here, to being safe. Your breaths go from shallow to deep as they slow. He hears your heartbeat steady and watches clarity fill your eyes again.

Fuck him. Those eyes.

“Tomorrow, we go over your list and see what we can do. Let’s get some rest for now.” He pushes to a stand and moves to remove his hand from yours, but you hold onto him.

“I’m sorry for trying to escape,” you rasp and Bucky tenses at that. He did not expect that confession. Didn’t expect an apology either – he didn’t think one was warranted.

You slowly push to a stand and Bucky’s heartbeat spikes as you wobble on your legs before you steady yourself. His eyes search your face frantically and he tries not to linger at your lips for too long. You gently stroke a hand down his arm before brushing past him in thanks, and Bucky has to take a deep breath. A flash of you doing the same thing to one of tonight’s guests comes to him and jealousy hits him, a little too viciously. Just like it did when he saw it earlier tonight.

He turns around and watches as you walk up the small bag he packed for an instance like this. You pull out some clothes and Bucky shamelessly stares while you do it. He almost sighs as the sight of that orange hue travelling over your form, most of the sleek dress still intact and definitely still doing its job of making you look good enough to eat.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he blurts. But he stands still as he watches you freeze. You slowly turn to him and tilt your head at him curiously.

Then, a slow smirk spreads over your face and your brows raise playfully. Bucky frowns as he tries to read the expression on your face, even if the lightness of it makes him want to drop to his knees in relief. This is much, much better than that haunted look that was there mere minutes ago.

Until one of your hands lifts from the bag, a small scrap of lace dangling from your fingers. “I am never letting you pack our getaway bag again.”

Bucky matches your smirk and strides over to you, close enough that you have to tip your chin up to remain eye contact. “You can choose not to wear it,” he shrugs and the nonchalant gesture makes your legs weak. Slowly, he starts unbuttoning his own pants and shirt, stripping himself of his clothes and tempting you to break that eye contact. “But we’re sharing a bed, so you decide what is less tempting for me to look at.”

It takes everything inside of you not to balk at this… flirtation. But it’s nice – so fucking nice to deflate that balloon of tension after a mission like the one you had tonight. To have banter and humour and perhaps a little friendship.

“I better not catch you looking at all,” you snipe, but have a hard time keeping the smile off your face.

Bucky smiles too then and gives you a wink powerful enough to set your clothes aflame. “Too bad. You can’t ask that of me and look like that.”

That does render you a bit speechless and Bucky takes his win as he strips himself to his boxers. Climbing under the sheets, Bucky’s powerful body shifts and ripples with movement.

This is going to be a long night.

#ok this is NOT worth the wait #but its here which is a HUGE win for me #i hope you like it #not me being way too impatient to write a slow burn #the upcoming smut better be good too #pls tell me what u think i have obviouslty not forgotten about you guys #<3 #rebellion series #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #writing #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #oneshot #series

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ovaryacted · 3 months

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What about re6/DI Leon having a mommy kink while having reader peg him :3 Bonus points if he has an oral fixation too (I’m honestly projecting at this point but…) -🐏 New anon

MDNI/18+. NSFW.

The way I’m just rediscovering new emojis through you guys omg. Hi ram anon, welcome to the club. You came in packing a punch cause this shit grabbed me by the neck LIKE A DOG. You’re cooking…let me get in the kitchen for a second. For this one, RE6 Leon came to mind...yeah, I had to okay.

Leon looks absolutely pathetic right now, legs spread open and his knees parallel to his ears as they dug into the mattress. His cock throbbed below him, grunting at the way you filled him so well, so perfectly. His blue eyes were glossed over every time he managed to take a glance at you, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced in front of him with every thrust you gave him.

It was another night of you taking the reigns and reminding Leon of his place, irrevocably below you and wrapped around your finger. The strap-on that you used for the session was one of the larger ones you carried, and he’ll never admit this out loud but it was his favorite. It stretched him out the way he liked, edging the point of pain but enough for him to handle.

He had been so stressed recently, stuck in his mind and overthinking to the point of straining himself. You hated it when he was like that, when he was so occupied finding solutions to problems that shouldn’t concern him that he was left overworked and drained. You knew he needed help, needed a way to release the built-up energy in his body, and you had the perfect solution.

“Fuck…”, his voice was light, breathing heavily through his nose and out his mouth that was left agape and filled with drool, spilling out the corner of his lips. You took that as an opening, leaning forward to spit into his mouth and hearing hum at the action, swallowing it down with a whine.

“That feel good baby? You’re taking me so fucking well”, you praised him, not needing to ask him for confirmation. From the way he struggled to meet you in the eye, you knew he was getting ready to slip into that headspace that was his refuge.

“Yeah, feels so damn good”, he gulped another intake of breath, his thighs starting to quiver as you moved faster against him.

“Just needed mommy to take care of you huh? Make your pretty little head all empty”, you teased him, grinning at the moan Leon released. You were about to crack him, finally breaching that wall and entering the stage of bliss.

“Yes, mommy takes care of me. Fuck…gives me what I need”, his words almost slurred together, eyes beginning to roll and fucking back into you with needy pushes of his hips. He couldn’t stop looking at your chest, fixating on your nipples and how taut they were. You didn’t stop him when he leaned forward to pop one in his mouth, sucking on it as if it were his favorite piece of candy and clenching around your strap.

“Good boy. Let mommy fuck you the way you deserve”, you purred at him, grabbing hold of his aching length and giving him a few jerks. It didn’t take long before he was spilling all over his lower stomach with a broken cry, fresh tears running down his flushed cheeks in a mixture of pleasure and slight embarrassment. But this was what Leon wanted, what he needed.

He’s always so thankful you’re there to help him feel better, to take care of him and provide him security he’s never felt before. You’re the only one who can take care of his needs without him having to beg for it. After all, mommy always knows best.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #sub leon kennedy smut #sub leon kennedy #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #ovaryacted asks #₊˚⊹ ♡ ─ ram anon 🐏

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sophiamcdougall · 2 years

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Oh my God. Where do I -- how do I -- OK, @pensierosatanista, I'm going to try. @becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys is sure to do a better job than I can, but I'll try. So you know how Boris Johnson has a habit of just blatantly, brazenly lying, right? Like "there were no parties in Downing Street during lockdown." "I am shocked and appalled to find out that there were parties in Downing Street during lockdown! I had no idea whatsoever this was going on." "I am shocked and appalled to find out I was at all of the parties..."

So all his ministers put up with that, loyally spouted the line that there's nothing to see here and no one did anything wrong and even if there were teensy, insignificant breaches of the so called "law" who even cares? So it's not surprising that Johnson concluded he could just carry on lying (and degrading any lingering standards in public life) indefinitely. So recently the Conservatives dramatically lost a couple of by-elections, BOTH of which happened because the sitting Conservative MP was forced to quit after he did something gross and sexual. One was caught watching porn in Parliament, the other, much worse, was convicted of assaulting a teenage boy. So a few days ago it came out that one of the Whips had got drunk and groped a couple of men. Rather unusually, the culprit promptly resigned from his role as Whip, although not as MP. It's grim to say it, but in itself, this probably wouldn't be such a big deal. The problem was that 1) Johnson didn't immediately sack him as an MP 2) the guy had done it before. H'd been formally investigated and everything. Johnson, on cue: I had no idea he'd done it before!! Various MPs: OK, wait. Yes, you fucking did. It was reported to you. I was there. You made jokes about it. You hired him anyway. Johnson: OK, maybe. I mean, yes. I forgot. Who can keep track of all the sexual assaults their subordinates have committed, amirite? Various other MPs, live on TV: The Prime Minister had no idea it happened befo-- oh. Oh, he now admits he had, you say? Huh. Well. I look kind of stupid now. And it wasn't the first time versions of that, (MPs going out to defend Johnson only to find that whatever line they were pushing had collapsed before the interview was over) had happened either. So yesterday, the Chancellor Rishi Sunak and the Health Secretary Sajid Javid both resigned, saying they just couldn't take the lies and toxicity and, y'know, the small matter of the culture of drunken sexual harassment, any more. Now it may be true that they really can't stand serving under Johnson because who could? But mainly what they mean is "I'd like a shot at being Prime Minister and if I don't get out now, I'm going to be associated with all this shit forever and that is bad for my personal brand." Historically, just one major minister resigning saying "I can't serve under this Prime Minister" has always meant that PM is toast. So ... the floodgates opened. Since then it's been averaging out at nearly two resignations an hour. Partly because people who've been sick of Johnson for years finally felt they had permission to do something, but mainly because it's either get away from Johnson as fast as you can or go down with him -- staying = saying "Yeah, judge me and my competence for any future office by the fact I approve of this dickhead". And even before all of this happened Johnson was staggeringly unpopular according to all polls. As I write we're up to forty-six resignations. Keir Starmer, the leader of the opposition, came out with a clearly workshopped-to-fuck but still good line "a sinking ship fleeing the rat."" Any normal Prime Minister would have resigned after the first two! Any normal Prime Minister would have resigned before any of this happened!

Johnson, you will have observed, is not a normal Prime Minister. Trump-like, he is currently insisting he's never going to go. This is somewhat less terrifying than when Trump did it because we don't have guns here and even when he DID have a crazed personal fanbase it wasn't that rabid and he doesn't have it any more. But technically, the rules currently say the Tories can't get rid of him for at least another year. That's not a big problem, as they have the freedom to change those rules and are going to by Monday. But technically, they could vote to remove him as leader of the Conservative party ... and he'd still be Prime Minister. And there would be nothing they or we could do about it! This would be completely unprecedented, a gigantic constitutional crisis, and in that case we might be stuck relying on the fucking Queen to save us, which is obviously a) is pretty dire for a so-called democracy and b) what if she doesn't. It probably won't actually come to that? (...will it?) He has just made a lot of enemies all at once, including the crazy own goal of sacking Michael Gove, his scheming long time frenemy/nemesis, who is the one the Murdoch press really likes. The 1922 committee is "preparing instruments of torture." And although it's true that this is not a normal way for a PM to behave -- a lot of PMs have said "Fuck you all! I can totally survive this!" in various crises, only to quit the following day. So everything's a little terrifying and he might take us all down with him, but it is also spectacular and hilarious and it's preventing the government from actually doing anything. And so today was the headiest and most electrifying day I've experienced, politics-wise, since November 6th, 2020.

#UK politics #Boris Johnson #ukpol

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hijinxinprogress · 6 months

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I need the jl to discover that Captain Marvel is a menace

Billy gets arrested as Captain Marvel and he’s just a smug menace the whole time despite being on comms with the league “Of course, I understand the seriousness of this situation! I will absolutely comply, I completely understand that you need the code…the code is 1-3-1-2. Also, I want my lawyer 😇” which gets leaked to the press both audio and visual which leads to the jl claiming that CM had been impersonated and their only evidence is the stupid ass grin on his face

The jl was investigating the misuse of a magical artifact and discovered that a group of police officers had joined a cult. Before they had the chance to gather the evidence proving those officers guilty but they’d already sealed away the artifact so Marvel suggested getting himself arrested to incriminate them and he was a little too happy about it

Let’s be honest, Billy only gets caught by the police bc he can commit to a bit and he’s pretending to be an ancient magic immortal so why would he run from a regular civilian human?? But on the inside Billy is dry heaving and sobbing bc he knows that the police could never catch him on his worst day even if he was personally broadcasting his location

Speaking of broadcasting isn’t Billy a fucking radio host?? I know he’s a fucking asshole during commercial breaks “This next commercial reminds me of a recent encounter with officer smith who got lost three blocks from his station” and it cuts to a fucking toilet paper commercial (people swear they heard him mutter ‘bc you’re absolute shit at your job’)

Sometimes people will call in to debate his views on the police and he’ll have a three hour philosophical debate but actual cops will call in to argue with him and Billy’s making your mom jokes and playing air horn noises or 2016 vines like a fucking child

Billy probably gets caught when he graduates high school bc his yearbook quote is like marvels most well known quote “Captain Marvel coast city precinct, interrogation room 5 (Oct 14 XXXX) 3:37-4:31” billy added too much information and it gets flagged by the watchtowers security system so the jl has a meeting about the breach in security and Marvel’s like ‘yeaaahh, that was me mb’ and batman is making disapproving noises bc ‘this is serious, Marvel! high school graduate, William-’ he can’t finish bc Marvel’s gagging dramatically ‘Billy. It’s Billy ohmygod’

batman, on the verge of a breakdown: who is this kid?? Why does he know the time, date, and location of an undercover league operation??

Marvel, avoiding eye contact with Cyborg who helped picked out his outfit for the yearbook photo currently being projected: ahaha about that…

Cyborg, who distinctly remembers telling Billy not to do anything fucking stupid: 😐

(Vic has framed the picture of the ‘oh shit’ look on Billy’s face when superman lunges across the table damn near in hysterics)

#billy batson #dc captain marvel #justice league #dc comics #billy batson says acab #street kid billy batson #ACAB!billy batson #feral billy batson #batman #superman #cyborg dc #Hal is also an asshole so the next time batman lectures him he’s like ‘dude you punched a four year old 🤨 I can’t fuck up worse than that #Billy offended: ‘I was eight actually’#Barry 🤏🏾 close to sobbing: ‘that’s not better…you know that right?’

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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months

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Amazon Alexa is a graduate of the Darth Vader MBA

Next Tuesday (Oct 31) at 10hPT, the Internet Archive is livestreaming my presentation on my recent book, The Internet Con.

If you own an Alexa, you might enjoy its integration with IFTTT, an easy scripting environment that lets you create your own little voice-controlled apps, like "start my Roomba" or "close the garage door." If so, tough shit, Amazon just nuked IFTTT for Alexa:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/10/25/23931463/ifttt-amazon-alexa-applets-ending-support-integration-automation

Amazon can do this because the Alexa's operating system sits behind a cryptographic lock, and any tool that bypasses that lock is a felony under Section 1201 of the DMCA, punishable by a 5-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine. That means that it's literally a crime to provide a rival OS that lets users retain functionality that Amazon no longer supports.

This is the proverbial gun on the mantelpiece, a moral hazard and invitation to mischief that tempts Amazon executives to run a bait-and-switch con where they sell you a gadget with five features and then remotely kill-switch two of them. This is prime directive of the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further."

So many companies got their business-plan at the Darth Vader MBA. The ability to revoke features after the fact means that companies can fuck around, but never find out. Apple sold millions of tracks via iTunes with the promise of letting you stream them to any other device you owned. After a couple years of this, the company caught some heat from the record labels, so they just pushed an update that killed the feature:

https://memex.craphound.com/2004/10/30/apple-to-ipod-owners-eat-shit-and-die-updated/

That gun on the mantelpiece went off all the way back in 2004 and it turns out it was a starter-pistol. Pretty soon, everyone was getting in on the act. If you find an alert on your printer screen demanding that you install a "security update" there's a damned good chance that the "update" is designed to block you from using third-party ink cartridges in a printer that you (sorta) own:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Selling your Tesla? Have fun being poor. The upgrades you spent thousands of dollars on go up in a puff of smoke the minute you trade the car into the dealer, annihilating the resale value of your car at the speed of light:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/23/how-to-fix-cars-by-breaking-felony-contempt-of-business-model/

Telsa has to detect the ownership transfer first. But once a product is sufficiently cloud-based, they can destroy your property from a distance without any warning or intervention on your part. That's what Adobe did last year, when it literally stole the colors from your Photoshop files, in history's SaaSiest heist caper:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/28/fade-to-black/#trust-the-process

And yet, when we hear about remote killswitches in the news, it's most often as part of a PR blitz for their virtues. Russia's invasion of Ukraine kicked off a new genre of these PR pieces, celebrating the fact that a John Deere dealership was able to remotely brick looted tractors that had been removed to Chechnya:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/08/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors/

Today, Deere's PR minions are pitching search-and-replace versions of this story about Israeli tractors that Hamas is said to have looted, which were also remotely bricked.

But the main use of this remote killswitch isn't confounding war-looters: it's preventing farmers from fixing their own tractors without paying rent to John Deere. An even bigger omission from this narrative is the fact that John Deere is objectively Very Bad At Security, which means that the world's fleet of critical agricultural equipment is one breach away from being rendered permanently inert:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/23/reputation-laundry/#deere-john

There are plenty of good and honorable people working at big companies, from Adobe to Apple to Deere to Tesla to Amazon. But those people have to convince their colleagues that they should do the right thing. Those debates weigh the expected gains from scammy, immoral behavior against the expected costs.

Without DMCA 1201, Amazon would have to worry that their decision to revoke IFTTT functionality would motivate customers to seek out alternative software for their Alexas. This is a big deal: once a customer learns how to de-Amazon their Alexa, Amazon might never recapture that customer. Such a switch wouldn't have to come from a scrappy startup or a hacker's DIY solution, either. Take away DMCA 1201 and Walmart could step up, offering an alternative Alexa software stack that let you switch your purchases away from Amazon.

Money talks, bullshit walks. In any boardroom argument about whether to shift value away from customers to the company, a credible argument about how the company will suffer a net loss as a result has a better chance of prevailing than an argument that's just about the ethics of such a course of action:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

Inevitably, these killswitches are pitched as a paternalistic tool for protecting customers. An HP rep once told me that they push deceptive security updates to brick third-party ink cartridges so that printer owners aren't tricked into printing out cherished family photos with ink that fades over time. Apple insists that its ability to push iOS updates that revoke functionality is about keeping mobile users safe – not monopolizing repair:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

John Deere's killswitches protect you from looters. Adobe's killswitches let them add valuable functionality to their products. Tesla? Well, Tesla at least is refreshingly honest: "We have a killswitch because fuck you, that's why."

These excuses ring hollow because they conspicuously omit the possibility that you could have the benefits without the harms. Like, your tractor could come with a killswitch that you could bypass, meaning you could brick it at a distance, and still fix it yourself. Same with your phone. Software updates that take away functionality you want can be mitigated with the ability to roll back those updates – and by giving users the ability to apply part of a patch, but not the whole patch.

Cloud computing and software as a service are a choice. "Local first" computing is possible, and desirable:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/03/there-is-no-cloud/#only-other-peoples-computers

The cheapest rhetorical trick of the tech sector is the "indivisibility gambit" – the idea that these prix-fixe menus could never be served a la carte. Wanna talk to your friends online? Sorry there's just no way to help you do that without spying on you:

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

One important argument over smart-speakers was poisoned by this false dichotomy: the debate about accessibility and IoT gadgets. Every IoT privacy or revocation scandal would provoke blanket statements from technically savvy people like, "No one should ever use one of these." The replies would then swiftly follow: "That's an ableist statement: I rely on my automation because I have a disability and I would otherwise be reliant on a caregiver or have to go without."

But the excluded middle here is: "No one should use one of these because they are killswitched. This is especially bad when a smart speaker is an assistive technology, because those applications are too important to leave up to the whims of giant companies that might brick them or revoke their features due to their own commercial imperatives, callousness, or financial straits."

Like the problem with the "bionic eyes" that Second Sight bricked wasn't that they helped visually impaired people see – it was that they couldn't be operated without the company's ongoing support and consent:

https://spectrum.ieee.org/bionic-eye-obsolete

It's perfectly possible to imagine a bionic eye whose software can be maintained by third parties, whose parts and schematics are widely available. The challenge of making this assistive technology fail gracefully isn't technical – it's commercial.

We're meant to believe that no bionic eye company could survive unless they devise their assistive technology such that it fails catastrophically if the business goes under. But it turns out that a bionic eye company can't survive even if they are allowed to do this.

Even if you believe Milton Friedman's Big Lie that a company is legally obligated to "maximize shareholder value," not even Friedman says that you are legally obligated to maximize companies' shareholder value. The fact that a company can make more money by defrauding you by revoking or bricking the things you buy from them doesn't oblige you to stand up for their right to do this.

Indeed, all of this conduct is arguably illegal, under Section 5 of the FTC Act, which prohibits "unfair and deceptive business practices":

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

"No one should ever use a smart speaker" lacks nuance. "Anyone who uses a smart speaker should be insulated from unilateral revocations by the manufacturer, both through legal restrictions that bind the manufacturer, and legal rights that empower others to modify our devices to help us," is a much better formulation.

It's only in the land of the Darth Vader MBA that the deal is "take it or leave it." In a good world, we should be able to take the parts that work, and throw away the parts that don't.

(Image: Stock Catalog/https://www.quotecatalog.com, Sam Howzit; CC BY 2.0; modified)

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

#pluralistic #alexa #ifttt #criptech #disability #drm #revocation #nothing about us without us #futureproofing #graceful failure #darth vader MBA #enshittification

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dduane · 1 year

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WARNING: *major* Twitter data breach...

...Whoopee. See the full thread here for details. (Also here.) Tl:dr; The data of some 400,000,000 Twitter users has been leaked and is being more or less held for ransom. (See the image above, in which Musk is invited to buy the data to take it out of possible circulation and thereby save himself huge GDPR fines.)

Granted, there are some imponderables about this—such as: does the breach-advertiser above really have all the data they say they do? But their published examples have apparently been verified as genuine. ...In any case, though, if you’re using SMS for your 2FA with Twitter, probably your best protection is to contact your phone provider and get them to create a PIN for your number, so as to prevent your phone being simjacked by someone who’s bought your data. (It’s not a bad idea to do this anyway, if you’re at risk from this kind of thing... but the current issue adds some urgency. I’ve been using it myself, and would have changed it recently except that, in the wake of the mass firings at Twitter, the app that handled their 2FA went down. Must confirm whether it’s back up again so that I can at the very least change my password, or move my 2FA to Google Authenticator or similar.)

Particularly at risk in this attack: old-style “blue check” users. ...So if by chance you’re one of these: please take note, and take action to protect yourself. No telling what’s going to wind up happening to this data in even the medium term.

(ETA: I note in passing—since I was just going over to take a look at it—that paste.ee has removed one of the “example” files of leaked names as a violation of its TOS. Not really a surprise, I guess...)

#Twitter #Twitter breach

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telomeke · 5 months

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THE SIGN EPISODE 7 – NAGARUDA AND THE VISUALS OF SEX

The coming together of the naga and the garuda in The Sign was long foretold (since Tharn has the power of clairvoyance, and the series already showed us his sexually-charged premonition of Phaya and him coupling in the shower, in Episode 4).

(above) The Sign Ep.7 [5/5] 19.47

This post isn't about narrative analysis or the significance of any plot development though; I'm just noting down some of the visual details resounding rhetorically in the scene where Phaya and Tharn finally give in to the swelling sexual tension and get it on. 👀

The prelude (foreplay?) to their first sexual encounter (at least in this lifetime) was by the pool in Phaya's home. And the subtitles also tell us that the background music is echoing their fated bond through time:

(above) The Sign Ep.7 [5/5] 13.04

‌

By the pool of Phaya's house though, Tharn is already part-way in the water (his comfort zone) even as Phaya offers him liquid refreshment:

(above) The Sign Ep.7 [5/5] 13.21

While the pool may represent the naga (and his watery origins), the glowing lights on the trees and statuary in the background are symbolic of the garuda (given his alignment with the sun, flames and light). There is a respectful distance between these symbolic elements, even as there is still a respectful distance between garuda Phaya and naga Tharn.

But the lights are reflected in the water, and Phaya and Tharn have already exchanged colors (Phaya is in a murky sea-green top whose color reflects the naga's homeland, while Tharn is wearing a saffron t-shirt that calls to mind the warm glow of the fiery garuda). So we know that in this scene they are already inextricably in each other's business.

When they give in to their primal urges though, we start to see the various naga and garuda elements become more enmeshed and overlapping, even as the two breach their boundaries and unite physically.

They start things off in the shower, and the water is unmistakably a reference to the naga's overflowing passions.

(above) The Sign Ep.7 [5/5]

But all around them are candle flames, a sign of the fiery lust overpowering garuda Phaya for his fated lover Tharn:

(above) The Sign Ep.7 [5/5] 18.53

Even as water (symbolic of the naga) showers down upon them both, we see orbs of light (a reference to the garuda) flickering and overlapping the action. (I only recently found out that this out-of-focus effect with the lighting is called bokeh – a term of Japanese origin – from this super-excellent breakdown of the parallels between PhayaTharn's imagined and actual lovemaking by @wen-kexing-apologist, linked here; please do read it for more information on the lighting and its significance. 👍🤩)

Now a bit more about the lighting color though: many have noted that when Phaya and Tharn interact on a more elemental level, the lighting seems to turn very pink.

In my opinion, their previous encounters where more primal instincts held sway (e.g., at Ep.2 [4/4] 10.36 and Ep.4[3‌/4] 15.51) were actually lit with an interplay of blue light (calling out to the marine colors of the naga's homeland) and red light (a nod at the fiery garuda's alignment with the sun and flame). And the lighting was blue and red in the main, and only turned pinkish on occasion when the hues overlapped, just as moments of sporadic intimacy happened only randomly between the star-crossed but still separate Phaya and Tharn.

However, here in PhayaTharn's sex scene, we're not seeing separate blue and red lighting dancing around – the two colors have been blended, just as Phaya and Tharn's lovemaking has united them physically.

And technically the color is not pink. When blue and red light come together, we get magenta lighting, and that truly is the blended hue that bathes the conjoined PhayaTharn (nagaruda), as their bodies come together as one. The separate blues and reds are nowhere to be seen now:

(above) The Sign Ep.7 [5/5] 19.56

So The Sign then ends this sequence with an illuminated little flourish, at the climax of the scene (and presumably that of PhayaTharn's lovemaking too). As the naga writhes ecstatically on a bed of aquamarine, the garuda tenses and thrusts, and we see a brilliant flare of light, his elemental life-force, flash above the curve of his naked rear:

(top) The Sign Ep.7 [5/5] 20.04; (bottom) The Sign Ep.7 [5/5] 20.05

As always, the props, art direction and lighting have come together to tell a visual story in The Sign, and here they've strongly echoed the passionate and emotionally authentic coupling between Phaya and Tharn, fearlessly brought to life by Billy and Babe. 💖👍 I thoroughly enjoyed this scene, and not just for the reasons one might think. 🤩

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#the sign #the sign the series #naga and garuda #billy patchanon #babe tanatat #billybabe #phayatharn #nagaruda #nagaruda sex #tw: sex

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