#i could understand if it was used as a tool for a first pass for quick turnarounds

[biillys]

love the idea of billy being able to approach anyone at school and it just being accepted. him not necessarily being apart of the popular crowd but anytime he chooses to grace them with his presence, they're all over him, offering him a seat and the latest hottest gossip. him talking to some nerd in class, asking for a pen becos he doesn't believe in bringing his own school supplies, and said nerd internally rolling their eyes but still handing over a pen. him talking to the drama kids, asking where they got that sick as fuck leather jacket for their musical, getting confused and lowkey alarmed looks but still an answer.

love the idea of there being only a select few people that can approach him and have him actually respond and acknowledge them, everyone else not even getting a glance.

eddie being one of them.

eddie and billy seeming to become eddie and billy overnight, like one day they were strangers and the next they were basically inseparable.

eddie walking up behind billy in the hallway and swinging an arm over his shoulder, fucking with his hair, before dumping half the shit he was carrying in billy’s basically unused satchel. billy giving him a what the fuck look but still holding it open for him, and eddie rolling his eyes and saying it was fucking empty anyway, billy shoving his satchel onto eddie's shoulder cos he’s not carrying around eddie's shit for him all day.

eddie being able to lean against billy's car, jump in the passenger seat without an invitation or even a comment, cos billy does the same thing to eddie's van just as often.

they have one class together, and their teacher’s given up on separating them, cos eddie’s just gonna talk to billy from across the room anyway, and billy’s gonna throw notes back to him, ripping up the piece of paper he borrowed from the guy beside him and throwing them at eddie's hair.

they have fun in detention together.

heathers another one.

they’re coworkers, yeah, but heather was probably the first person that billy ever truly gave a shit about in this shithole of a town. heathers been a cheerleader since becoming a cheerleader was an option, but somehow, like billy these days, always seems to just do her own thing.

she can sit on billy’s lap at lunch if they both bother with the cafeteria and the most billy will do is wrap an arm around her waist and move around 'til their more comfortable.

she can go through his shit to find his car keys to make a quick run to his car at lunch to find some spare hairbands and bobby-pins cos her’s broke and billy’s got spare shit everywhere in his car ever since he basically started being everyone’s personal chauffeur.

she can drag his notes across and copy everything he's written cos she was too busy texting chrissy under the table to pay attention and the most billy will do is ask what the plans were for that night. his notes half the time are basically illegible but billy's more or less somehow got mostly straight A's so heather'll take it.

sometimes she wears his jacket. rips him off about the lip stain. billy tells her to do a better one since she gives so much of a fuck.

chrissy joins billy’s inner-circle slowly, then instantly.

billy knows of her, has probably even spoke to her, but it’s not until they meet in eddie's trailer and all smoke up together - eddie and billy fucking around on eddie's guitars, heather with her feet swung over the back of the couch, chrissy sitting tense on the single armchair before slowly loosening up - that billy feels like he actually meets her.

suddenly, she’s pulling away from jason, from the other basketball players, from all her cheer friends, and slowly she’s hanging out with heather under the bleachers, she’s meeting up with eddie in the woods, and she’s waiting around the camaro at the end of the day to catch a ride home.

suddenly billy’s waiting around after basketball/cheer practice until chrissy’s ready to leave, cos jason's been talking a lot of shit lately, and billy doesn’t really think he’s got it in him to do something reckless, but he’s also not stupid enough to underestimate a guy like jason carver.

chrissy getting nervous when she sees jason loitering around but then she sees billy waiting just behind him, and she’s feeling brave suddenly, so she practically dances her way over to billy, grabs his hand before leaning into his side, and billy’s leaning right back and dropping her hand so he can wrap his arm around her shoulder, and she leaves without looking back. billy flips jason the bird over his shoulder.

max, obviously, when she starts going to the same high school. they’ve spent the previous summer working so much shit out, and it doesn’t mean they’re not still at each others throats over the stupidest shit, but it does mean that when billy bitches about having to wait around after her stupid nerd clubs, he does it without that much heat, and when max bitches about having to deal with the fact that every single person and teacher in this damn school has an opinion on her just becos she’s billy hargrove’s little sister, she sometimes sounds kind of proud to have that label. most of the time, she’s just annoyed.

max sometimes shoves her shit in billy’s locker, becos her locker’s full of dustin’s science shit, and sometimes when she’s carrying her board around at the end of the day, billy’ll come up behind her and smack it out of her grasp before skating down the hallway. she always feels vindicated when billy gets caught though, cos she never does. 

shaking billy down for lunch money, cos susan seems to think max actually likes tunafish sandwiches, when she rly truly fucking hates them. billy usually telling her to fucking scram, but occasionally giving in and passing her some change.

max sometimes tracking him down at the start of her lunch period and holding a hand out for his car keys, a pissed off look on his face, and billy takes one look behind he to see her lil gang looking all shifty, and billy - having been on the receiving end of her attitude fucking constantly in the past - just sighing before handing his keys over. more often than not, trailing behind her, even when she tells him to fuck off, just throwing a shit eating grin her way with an aww, so little maxine can have a pity party for one? fuck no. what'd the fuckers do this time?

lucas, becos he’s max’s boyfriend, and also becos he’s on the team, and he seems to be sneaking over every other weekend, and things may still be rocky between them, but since billy make his apology, they’ve been getting better. they’re not exactly besties, but sometimes they play a one on one game after practice ends and no one’s in a rush to get home, and most times lucas will win becos he’s honestly just better than billy at basketball, and each time billy will ask for best out of three, then best out of five, cos he fucking sucks at losing.

when jason and some of the other basketball dickheads start trying to drag lucas in, pulling their fake shit only to split whenever it’s convenient, billy just watches on before rolling his eyes and pulling lucas’ gear closer to his in the locker room and gives him the worlds shittest pep talk. jason carver ain’t shit, trust me. fuck that guy.

carol! and tommy! except billy’s a dick and he thinks it’s funny to fuck with tommy, so when carol comes up to him and catches him up to date with the latest wild happenings from the party he couldn’t be fucked to attend the night before, crashing at eddie’s with the others instead, and tommy tries to go in for a simple bro-handshake, billy gives him a blank stare and holds his hand out limply, not participating, watches the look on tommy’s face go from excited to confused, before finally grabbing him by the hand and pulling him close, hand on his shoulder, ‘i’m fucking with you’, then doing the stupid bro-shake thing. tommy laughing it off but turning to carol with wide eyes, every fucking time, like ‘shit, are we cool? are we friends?’ and carol just patting him on the shoulder before tucking herself into his side, all ‘yeah, babe, you're good.’

#anyway au where when billy first rolled into town; he truly did feel the need to like. make himself big. surround himself with crowds #fit in with the popular kids. attend every party. but then s3 happened #or like the non-upsidedown version but still a major critical life changing event. and when hes as healed as hes gonna get #and finally standing on his own two feet; trying to get his life back on track #he just. cant be fucked with keeping up appearances anymore. fuck being basketball captain fuck being the keg king fuck being That Guy #instead all he needs is his sister and his few people. that's literally all that matters. #anyway i think its be FUN if eddie can't understand shit in class so he's like 'billy what the fucks this mean' #but the teacher DID separate them so billy - from the literal other side of class - tries to explain it in terms eddie will click with #much to the teachers surprise; eddies grades actually improve #also. heather and chrissy wearing the guys jackets. its THAT simple #but also consider: chrissy wearing eddies jacket but eddies kinda chilly so billy offers him his leather jacket #that happens to be in the car. while heathers got his denim one. and billys just walking around in sleeves in a hawkins winter like a tool #max gives him SO much shit #also billy tommy and carol is like. billy was Faking it Til he Could Make it when he first met them so he keeps them at a distance #but then when he's in hospital and recovering; before eddie and chrissy are rly on his radar #and its just max and heather sitting by his side; tommy and carol come through #they're the only ones from billys Friend Group that reach out and visit; that check in; that fucking care #so when billy does stroll back into school. he just - walks straight pass jason and all his fake ass sympathies; straight past the girls #that use to hang all over him; gives tommy and carol a two finger salute as he walks by but completely ignores everyone else #and meets up w heather at his locker #m #nqff

[master-gatherer]

So they used AI to make the credits for Secret Invasion

And it looks like ass

#i could understand if it was used as a tool for a first pass for quick turnarounds #have ai make the rough then have an artist WHO KNOWS WHAT THEYRE DOING go in and polish it #but that is not what these are being used for #they are using them for final work on the belief that it doesnt matter #seriously it looks like ass #the proportions are wonky the colors swirl in weird ways #and not in a 'its meant to be unsettling juxtaposition' kinda way #in a 'the computer is extrapolating what it thinks should be next but it has no critical thinking skills so it doesnt find the best way' #'just the mathematical easy way' #to say nothing of the artist(s) the model was trained on losing a possible big name piece of work #how many animators missed out on am opportunity on this? #all b/c animated credit sequences arent viewed as having artistic merit so lets just get the computer to do it #who cares? #i care #anyway when yall start ripping on marvel rip on that

[uyuforu]

Astrology Observations VI

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Boda Persona Chart Analysis I

જ⁀➴ Astrology Observation: Synastry & Composite with In-Laws pt.1

જ⁀➴ How to know when you will get married?

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❀˖° Having a 12H Sun in Solar Return Chart is not for the weak. Your life could "fall apart" during this time, you can have a spiritual awakening, a very hard time in fact. I also noticed it can also mean (doesn’t need to be that, it CAN mean) one of your loved one can pass away unfortunately. It happened to me and a lot of people who also had their sun in their 12h, but not all of them! Usually, you have a hard time in general. But you’ll be fine, it is meant to happen for a reason.

❀˖° Synastry aspects are good to look at but the houses where the aspects fall is very important!! Sun conjunct Moon will have a different meaning where it falls.

❀˖° 7H synastry can mean a wonderful connection and desires to marry. BUT! The 7H can also be the house of enemies, so not everyone’s sun falling in your 7H means you have a good connection with them! I found myself not enjoying most of the people who’s sun fell in my 7H…

❀˖° Underrated Houses in Synastry: 2H, 4H, 6H, 10H.

❀˖° When looking at your Solar Return Chart, check the Synastry it has with your Natal Chart. It will tell you where those placements are felt within you. For example, my SRC’s Sun is in 12H and fall in my 10H this year. I’m having a lot of mental breakdown when it comes to my career, and since it conjuncts a big stellium of mine in my Natal, I just feel like my whole world is falling apart 🥲

❀˖° Please remember: North Node PC will tell you about your Soul purpose WHILE your MC will tell you about your career that is best suit for you. Your NN will never tell you about your career!!

❀˖° Union in your SRC could be the person you will meet this year that will have the strongest influence for you this year.

❀˖° 10H will tell you where your FS was born... ☺️

❀˖° 4H Sun people love to stay at home! Even if they are on a date, they will try to continue the date at home, because this is where they feel the most comfortable.

❀˖° Sun conjunct Mercury in a MC PC is a huge indicator of using communication daily to work, your tool n°1 is your voice!

❀˖° Aquarius Sun 4H are so private!! Aquarius usually are quite private people because they enjoy being mysterious and controlling what people think of them, they like that people don't understand them. But in 4H??? they will lie for the sake of their privacy.

❀˖° Opposite signs aren't that different in the end, they are very similar in fact. Capricorn & Cancer are both very family oriented for example. One is logical minded while the other is more feeling driven.

❀˖° Scorpio Rising have something so intense in their gaze, it's truly something you can't put words on. But once you see this gaze, you know.

❀˖° Chiron in 9H Synastry could be that you think you are too different because of the culture, the language, the beliefs, etc. BUT! If you are from the same place, it can just mean you don't understand each other, you are just basically too different.

❀˖° My step mother and I hated each other, and she had her Moon and Mercury in my 7H. Yep, she hated me. She was often insulting me or even trying to manipulate me with words.

❀˖° Saturn 7H Synastry can mean Saturn person feel like it will never work out between you two. But it could also mean they see you long term, depending of other placements.

❀˖° Sun in 5H Synastry usually means the person really enjoy your presence and think you are fun!

❀˖° Venus 6H Synastry means the Venus Person feels safe around you.

❀˖° You can tell by doing a Synastry with a Celebrity if you can hope to meet them one day. Usually Saturn in 9H or 1H is a sign you will never meet them. Of course, this is just an observation.

❀˖° I checked my Synastry with my first love, and it explained a lot. I have a stellium in his 7H, and of course, he was my first love.

❀˖° But I never expected to got his Venus in my 5H! I never knew if he had a crush on me too or if I was delusional lol.

❀˖° His Sun conjuncted my Neptune, he misunderstood me most of the time. He was seeing me in a way that was so untrue lol.

❀˖° He also had his Sun 1H, he was soooo popular among girls! Any girls from middle school had a huge crush on him at some point.

❀˖° He also had a stellium in my 4H and we were childhood friends.

❀˖° My sun conjuncted his Moon. Now, I had nothing against him, I thought he was funny. But he was indeed seeing me in a light that wasn't me.

❀˖° My Venus conjuncted his Vertex, I suddenly fell for him, and it must have been fated in a way?

❀˖° Though, his Mars fell in my 1H... man thought I was very good looking (he told lmao).

❀˖° Sagittarius Rising in Composite could indicate a mixed couple, but it can also mean you are so different no one expected you two to be together.

❀˖° Union 9H in Composite could mean you met in a foreign country, but also in school!

❀˖° Sun in 11H Composite means you are friends originally. Or just friends lol.

❀˖° Ceres 7H Composite could mean you care a lot about each other.

❀˖° Venus in 7H or conjuncting DSC Composite means one of you or both of you desire to marry each other.

❀˖° Pluto 12H to me is not that good usually. Anytime I saw this placement in Composite, the couple or the people never stayed together. It always ends. There can be exceptions of course.

❀˖° Saturn 5H in a romantic Composite means you will most likely never date, there could be obstacles in this union.

❀˖° Mercury conjunct Saturn Composite means misunderstandings and miscommunication.

❀˖° The year I had this first love, I had a 5H stellium in my SRC, and this stellium fell in my Natal 9H! It was indeed a school love lol.

❀˖° I also had Venus conjunct Vertex, it was my first time falling for anyone.

❀˖° The year I told him my feeling and got rejected I had Venus conjunct Mercury in 12H!

❀˖° Juno 12H in SRC could mean you have a secret crush!

❀˖° Sun conjunct Juno Solar Return Synastry is a big indicator of having a crush on the Sun person.

❀˖° Juno/ Mars/ Neptune in 1H Synastry Solar Return is an indicators of finding 1H person veryyyy attractive, it can be love at first sight, but it is def a crush!

❀˖° Transits Moon conjunct your Natal Mars will make your emotions boil lol. You could complain a lot or have a lot of negative emotions such as anger, jealousy, etc.

❀˖° Union asteroid conjunct Part of Fortune Synastry is a sign you were meant to meet in order to bless each other. It's a lucky meeting. It is very good and shows that you will do well in each other's life.

❀˖° My FS is a Pisces Venus 4H and he is the softest!! Just very cute and very soft person... I love him very much lol.

❀˖° He also has Neptune 3H, he tends to lie to protect himself (Sun 4H makes this effect too), but he is also a very good poet writer. He wrote me poems before and I believe he would do well for poetry writing in general.

❀˖° Pluto 1H could be a sign you will experience a drastic change in your appearance some day. If Jupiter is also there, it could indicate a big and major glow up.

❀˖° Juno 12H could mean your FS is a soul connection, someone who could be spiritual and awaken. If it is very close to the Rising, or conjunct 1H, OR in 1H, it could mean you'll probably have love at first sight for them.

❀˖° Chiron Virgo/ 6H/ Capricorn/ 10H could indicate a burn out at some point in your life.

❀˖° North Node conjunct Pluto could mean your purpose in your life will transform you deeply, mostly if it is in the 1H. You will live a drastic change in your life.

❀˖° Sun conjunct Mercury 1H in Solar Return Chart means you could think a lot about you this year, and think about your choices, and how it will play out for you. You will do more "selfish" choices because you want to make the best for you.

❀˖° Do I love stalking people I love or do I just have some heavy Scorpio/ 8H placements?

❀˖° Yeah indeed, Scorpio love stalking, but Gemini love that too!

❀˖° I have Gemini Moon 8H... u get it? lol

❀˖° It is a known thing, but in SRC, 4H's ruler in 9H means moving abroad! Another indication could be a stellium in 9H. But the stellium could also mean coming back to school, so it depends.

❀˖° SRC 4H Ruler in 12H could mean the same thing. It could simply be moving out.

❀˖° Speaking of the 12H in SRC, Pluto & Venus there could be end of a relationship BUT it could also be a spiritual love and you will learn lessons because of it.

❀˖° SRC 7H ruler in 1H could mean being in a relationships and it being part of who you are this year. Or you could appear as very romantic, very loyal too. Could also attract more contracts.

❀˖° Mars 7H in SRC could be an indicator you have a fight with the one you love, more if Venus squares/ quincunx/ opposite it. If you are single, it could show also more motivation towards long term connections.

❀˖° SRC 5H ruler being in the 7H could mean being in a long term relationship but also finding the one you want to marry.

❀˖° Once again, SRC Juno conjunct Chiron could mean you will suffer in love but it is indeed for healing.

Thank you for reading!

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[luvhughes43]

the beginning | jack hughes

au masterlist⭐️

summary: jack and yns relationship is super lowkey, but what happens when yn starts doubting why their relationship is so private?

warnings: pregnancy

word count: 5.6k

The first time you met Jack Hughes you were job shadowing a colleague of yours. It was your first real week of working at the New York Times, and with how busy the team's schedule was you were sent down with Lewis from the sports column to report on… something hockey related. You weren’t really sure, and Lewis didn’t care to fill you in. 

You had never given hockey two thoughts when you were growing up. Your father wasn’t interested in any sports aside from the usual football game on thanksgiving (which you had a theory he just watched to get out of festive activities and house work). And anyway, there was only one local ice rink where you grew up so you’d never really had the opportunity to learn about the sport. 

All that to say, you had no idea what you were doing. You watched Lewis pin his “The Athletic” reporters badge, and you fiddled with your visitors pass as you waited for the press conference to start. 

When the conference did start, you jotted down notes absentmindedly on your notepad. About halfway through the meeting, your attention is immediately pulled to a side door where a few men stood, snickering and whispering to each other. 

One of the men noticed you though, smirking half-heartedly in your direction as he nodded his head towards you. That small action caused the rest of the boys to look over in your direction. Your face flushed, and before you could look away your eyes connected with those of maybe the cutest guy you’ve ever seen. His hair was brown and overgrown, and his whole face lit up when he laughed. 

“Ow!” you whispered, rubbing your arm to try and alleviate the pain that was Lewis elbow knocking into your side. He pointed to the man speaking at the front of the room, and immediately looked away from you with an annoyed expression etched onto his face. “i’m sorry,” you whispered to Lewis but he shook his head in response. “pay attention.” his harsh tone brought you back to reality, and with one more glance at the cute man in the corner, you return all your attention back to the conference. 

⋆ ★

“Journalists still use notepads?” a teasing voice asks, and when you lift your head up from your notebook you see the same man from earlier staring at you. 

“We use recorders too but I'm just job shadowing so I didn’t think I needed it. Lewis the-” you stop your sentence short, well aware of the fact that this guy probably didn’t care about your writing tools or your coworker. 

The guy surprises you though. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and nods at you to continue. 

“Lewis, he works for the athletic paper. anyway, i was assigned to shadow him today because the woman who i was going to shadow had this breaking news story she had to cover,” 

“why didn’t you go with her?” the man asks, genuinely curious. 

“Well it's my first week and the woman is really particular about how she works. She said if I followed her she’d only get distracted,” you finish your story with the shrug of your shoulder. 

the guy nods in understanding before he pushes himself off and away from the wall. He squints a little and points to your name tag.

“Oh, i’m Y/n” you say, adjusting your name tag so he could read it properly. 

“I'm Jack” he smiles at you, and before either of you has time to say anything else, Lewis walks over to you grumbling. 

“It’s time to go,” 

you smile politely at Jack and he reciprocates. 

“See you around, Y/n” he raises his hand in a boyish fashion before retreating out of the hallway. 

⋆ ★

“It's so cold!” you shivered, voice quivering as you try to warm yourself up with the palm of your hands. you decided not to wear a coat tonight, against your better judgements, and now the frigid Manhattan air came to bite you in the ass. 

your friend nodded, teeth chattering as you two ran across the street and down the next block. 

your friends apartment came up first, and so she rushes out a quick goodbye before you set off down the street again. 

“Fuck! Where am I?” you hear a mans voice ask off in the distance. You wouldn’t normally try and investigate, but when you looked up and saw the familiar mop of brown hair, you made the decision to go over and talk to him.

“Jack?” you asked, hands still rubbing up and down your arms to try and provide you some warmth. 

Jack looks up startled, and once he recognizes it's you he relaxes again.

“Y/n right? From work?” he asks, and you nod as you step closer to him. The street lamps illuminate his face perfectly, hues of yellow and orange highlighting his features well.

“Yeah,” you nodded, face twisting in confusion as you watch Jack shrug out of his jacket. 

“I’ll let you wear my coat if you help me get.. here” Jack points to the blue destination point on his phone. 

You weigh your options, you could take his coat and help him out.. Meaning that you got to spend more time with him.. or, you could go home to the warmth of your apartment..

You hold your hand out for his jacket, and Jack smiles as he passes it over to you. 

You peer at his phone, taking a mental note of where he’s trying to go before leading him in the right direction. 

“Have you ever used google maps before?” you laugh teasingly, watching as the direction changes and the walk time gets shorter. “you were going in the complete opposite direction”

Jack chuckles, “my bad” 

The walk is silent for a minute, before Jack starts questioning you. “So… Do you usually take walks with strangers?”

“You're not a stranger, I met you like two days ago” you joke, knowing full well it's probably not wise to walk the streets with a man you've only ever spoken a few sentences to. 

Jack nods, and when you glance in his direction you see the hint of a smile grace his lips. “So, have you lived here long?” Jack asked at a stoplight. 

“I’ve lived in Manhattan for a year now. I did an internship last year for journalism and then they hired me” you explain as the walking light turns on and you both cross the street. “What about you? How long have you been in jersey?”

“I live in Jersey for the hockey season. I've been in Jersey for 4 years now? I think?” Jack speaks, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his NJD hoodie. “I grew up in Canada though, and I live in Michigan during the summers'' he explains.

“I’m from Denver, but I don't go visit much. I went to college here on the east coast and ended up staying through the summers to work” you speak, surprised at how easy it is to talk to Jack.

“I didn’t go to school,” Jack blurts out, and you bring your arm up to try and disguise your giggles as a cough. Jack seems embarrassed by his small outburst and quickly clarifies, “like I was drafted and went straight to the nhl” 

“That must’ve been hard” you hum, and Jack quirks an eyebrow at you. “Like, having to be in the real world so soon”

“you moved on your own at 18”

“Yeah but I moved for school. You were straight into the pros. That must've been a lot of pressure” 

Jack doesn’t respond, but you can tell by the way he’s carrying himself that your words rang true. 

“Anyway,” you pick up the conversation. “I really like living here. Yeah my hours are kind of insane, and rent is beyond… but I really like the city” 

“I think i’d live here,” Jack replies as he surveys the mostly empty streets. “there's always so much to do”

You nod, getting ready to cross the next street. “Uh, where are you going?” you call out, as Jack starts walking down the wrong street.

“There's a pizza place!” he says simply, and you stare at him confusedly before he explains. “I’m going to a bar, I can't drink without eating something” Jack shrugs and you walk to where he paused. He points to the small 24 hour pizza shop he wants to go to, and you both walk inside. 

After you both order, and you're sitting at your table with your food, you start to question things. “So, why were you wandering the streets? How did you get here from Jersey?” you ask, blowing on your steaming pizza before you take a bite. 

Jack mirrors you, taking a bite before he answers. “My friends and I all came together. They went out for dinner first but there was this shop I wanted to check out, they’ve got sick shoes, anyway that's not the point. they dropped me off at the store and so my plan was to just walk and meet up with them after but I… well got lost” 

You and Jack continue talking, time completely slipping by both of your minds as you let the conversation flow. You learnt that Jack did in fact like to read, and you made sure to give him a few recommendations before you both parted ways. 

“Do you want your jacket back?” you ask, already starting to shrug out of the warm material. 

He holds up a hand to stop you, “No you should wear it its cold-”

“I'm just walking back to my apartment I should be fine,” you say, shimmying your shoulder and letting the sleeve fall from your arm.

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Jack's question stuns you. 

“Aren’t you supposed to meet up with your friends?”

Jack only shrugs, “it’s only like 12 i’ve got plenty of time to catch up with them”

You nod slowly as you readjust Jack's coat on your body. 

“Plus, wouldn’t want you to take up any other stranger if they ask for directions” Jack jokes, “might make me jealous” 

You knew his comment was supposed to be a joke but… butterflies. Literal butterflies. 

Fifteen minutes later and you were outside of your apartment building. 

“Thank you” you say, “for the pizza and for letting me wear your jacket” 

Jack smiles at you brightly, and you couldn't help but smile back at him. It was like a natural reaction. 

“Thank you for taking me to where I needed to go,” Jack takes his turn in thanking you.

“But I didn't..” 

“It's the thought that counts” Jack grins as he pulls out his phone. “But, since you didn’t walk me to where i was going… i’ll accept your number as an apology”

“Apology?” you laughed, placing a hand over your heart and pretending to be shocked by his words. “If I recall you were the one who wanted to stop for pizza and to walk me home” 

“You're right, you're right,” Jack says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. 

“But I will give you my number,” you say, holding your hand out to accept Jack's phone. When you pass his phone back, your contact fresh in his list, Jack beams. 

“I’ll call you!” Jack yells out as he starts walking down the street. 

“How about you text me when you make it to the bar!” you shout back. “And by the way! You're going in the wrong direction!” you shout again, and Jack sighs loudly. He dramatically turns around before walking your way again. 

Before he has the time to say anything more, you give him a few directions so he doesn’t get anymore lost. 

Less than 30 minutes later, while finishing up your skincare routine, your phone lights up with a notification. 

Jack H: I made it! Thanks for tonight and for the directions

You went to sleep that night with a smile plastered onto your face.

⋆ ★

After that first “date” you and Jack routinely made plans to hang out. It started off with Jack texting you whenever he happened to be in the city, which then translated to you inviting him to all the new places in town you wanted to try. 

“I don't know how I feel about that,” Jack speaks in between spoonfuls of his ice cream. You two had just gotten out of an exhibit, something about ancient rome. 

“What? You never think about the roman empire?” you retort, thinking about Jack's interview that was posted earlier in the year. Jack rolled his eyes at you, but he smiled nonetheless. 

“Like, how do they even have all that stuff? It's been so long” 

“Yeah.. the armour was cool though,” you respond, shuffling across the crosswalk with Jack trailing after you. 

There’s a brief pause as you walk up White Street towards the little italian restaurant Jack wanted to stop at. 

“So, I was looking online and there’s this new exhibition popping up soon. Something about the elements and sensors… I don't know, it looked cool” Jack breaks the silence, and you have to bite back your smile. He was looking up exhibits for the two of you to go to? Last week he was talking about how much he didn't understand modern art!

“Since when are you interested in the arts?” you tease, knocking your shoulder against Jacks playfully. He looks down at you, eyes crinkled as he smiles. 

“It’s something to do,” Jack shrugs, “plus, let's not lie here! You’d love to hang out with me more,” Jack laughs teasingly, but you can sense the hope that lies beneath his words. 

“I’d love to hang out with you” your hand brushed against Jack without your knowledge. Your hand feels like it's on fire from the small contact. 

“It's a date then!” Jack cheers, grabbing ahold of your hand to steer you in the right direction. You could only hope he meant a real date. 

⋆ ★

The exhibit was great, but your time with Jack was even better. He always found ways to make even the most mundane things light up with colour. By the end of the night, you were positive that if you didn't ask Jack out on an official date, you’d lose your mind. 

Jack, ever the gentlemen, walked you up all 6 floors of your apartment. “I had a lot of fun tonight,” you say as soon as you reach your front door. 

Jack nods, easily agreeing with you. “I think i’m a changed man, that art thing was so cool” 

You laughed lightly, leaning against your door as you watched Jack ruffle his hair with his hand. “My turn to pick the activity next time?” you ask. 

“Yeah but no more ancient rome things” Jack easily jokes. 

“How about something more…” you hedge, unsure of how to ask Jack out. Of course you’ve asked him to go out places before but… this was very different. 

Jack leans against the staircase railing, tilting his head signalling for you to continue.

“Like…” you contine, all words escaping you as your attention is suddenly caught to the sight of his bare arms.

“A date?” Jack prompts, smirking as he catches you staring at him. 

Upon hearing the word date you're immediately crashing back to reality. Your hearts beating wildly, something you hadn’t felt since the early days of university. 

You nod, “yeah, yeah.. Like a date” you shake your head to clear it, and when you meet Jack's eyes he beams. 

“I’ll be waiting for you to text me the location then…” Jack's voice trails as he walks closer to you, leaning in as he presses a quick kiss to your check.

You stand there momentarily stunned, watching as he slowly walks backwards to the top of your floor's staircase. “I’ll see you on our date?” Jack calls out, and you mirror his bright smile. 

“I’ll see you on our date!” you call back, watching as Jack starts walking down the stairs. 

you were falling hard. 

⋆ ★

The big date came and went, and you and Jack continued dating silently. It was nice just being with him, away from all the pressures of his fans and his large social media presence. You had a small private account, so you would post some pictures on there, but you never officially went “public” with your relationship. 

Ynuser

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That didnt mean there weren’t close calls though. With Jack being extremely popular, there were a few times when the two of you were photographed out by fans. 

After the first incident, you thought nothing of it. Of course someone would see you guys eventually. Although you weren’t sure how you felt about being photographed by random people out in public… Jack was always quick to reassure you that people would eventually forget about the photos. 

It wasn’t the forgetting you were worried about though. After being with Jack for a few months, your twitter feed started recommending you hockey content. Which was fine at first, until you saw all the speculations of yours and Jack's relationship.

You muted all the hockey terms you could think of on your twitter account… but that didn’t stop you from thinking of all those accounts words. Was it true that you weren’t Jack's type? Is that why he wasn’t posting you on his social media accounts? Did he actually prefer going to small coffee shops and art exhibitions? Or was he trying to hide you from the outside world? 

Even though you knew you liked your relationship being private… Was there an ulterior motive on Jack's end? Did he not find you pretty enough to post on main? You started to spiral. 

⋆ ★

The bar was much more crowded than you would've liked, but when your boyfriend invited you out you easily agreed. 

You sat in the corner of the booth all night, sipping on your vodka sodas and listening in on the conversation around you. The devils were doing good so far this season, and as a result, Jack had decided it was time to drag you out with him to the bar. You wished he hadn’t.

It’s not like you were an insecure person… (that was somewhat a lie), but when every girl was gorgeous and hitting on your boyfriend… it made you doubt things.

You watched all night as Jack looked at other girls, and your spiralling started to feel a lot more real. 

“Who is she?” you screamed, tears streaming down your face as your boyfriend of two years stared at you in shock.

“Baby, she doesn’t mean anything to me! I swear! It's you who-”

“When was the last time you slept together?” you shouted, your boyfriend winced at your biting words. 

“Last weekend…” your boyfriend finally admitted the truth. You had your suspicions that he was cheating on you for weeks now… and each time you brought it up he convinced you that you were crazy. “But baby!” his voice was frantic as you grabbed your bag and started shoving things into it. 

Your eyes were wild as you stared into the eyes of the boy that you had loved. When he had nothing else to say, you zipped up your bag and left. Your chest arched and your heart burned… you promised that you would never let yourself get cheated on again. 

A blonde touches Jack's arm. You know this because you're watching it happen, right in front of your eyes. You swig your now warm soda, blinking hard to will away the tears. 

You look away from the sight, causing you to miss the way Jack's eyes immediately try to seek yours after he brushes the girl away. 

The drive to your apartment was quiet. 

“Baby, what's wrong?” Jack asks, and despite how much you want to call him out, you feel juvenile about it. 

“Nothing,” you sigh, shifting in your seat so that you can look at Jack. He looks at you tenderly, as if whatever mysterious thing that's hurting you is hurting him too. 

“You can tell me anything, you know that right?” Jack speaks up again a minute later, this time his eyes are trained on the road. 

“I know,” you whisper. “I’m just tired. Work was busy today”

Jack hummed in response, and that was the end of the conversation. As usual, he walked you up to your apartment, and then you kissed him goodbye. 

When he left you stayed up in bed and questioned everything. You knew you were being insecure, but were you paranoid too? You didn’t want to be hurt again and you were fearful that you would be cheated on again. It was irrational, you knew. But your ex was always being hit on and he took one of the girls up on… no. You wouldn’t let that man ruin anything else in your life. 

Everythings fine… you whisper to yourself, and soon enough you fall asleep.

⋆ ★

Things got worse from then on. Whenever Jack was gone on roadies you would read through every comment you could find about Jack’s types, his ex gfs, anything that you could find. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to them. It was like some cruel, sick addiction that you needed to keep up with. 

user82

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user82 recently… 🍸

“She's just a friend! What are you talking about?” Jack was immediately defensive when you brought up his liking habits.

“Listen, I’m not trying to be some insecure girlfriend but-”

“You are insecure!” Jack's voice is loud and his words slice through you like swords. 

Your eyes immediately start to water, “baby, I didn’t mean it” Jack rushes to your side, hand on your shoulder as he tries to get a good look at you. 

“I’m sorry…” you cry, your hands coming up to shield your face away from him. 

“No, I'm sorry. You're not insecure you’re right” Jack tries to soothe you but your mind goes numb. 

Baby, she doesn’t mean anything to me! But baby! baby, I didn’t mean it…

You let Jack drag you over to the couch, where you spend the rest of the night cuddling and watching some movie that was really just static noise. 

Your chest aches and your heart burns, but you knew that Jack was right. You were insecure. You didn't think you were as pretty as the girls who wanted him, and now you certainly didn’t think you were deserving of an instagram post. 

Baby, she doesn’t mean anything to me! But baby! baby, I didn’t mean it…

Baby, she doesn’t mean anything to me! But baby! baby, I didn’t mean it…

Baby, she doesn’t mean anything to me! But baby! baby, I didn’t mean it…

⋆ ★

After that night, you tried to distance yourself from Jack Hughes. When he was on roadies, you would take extra long to reply to his texts. You were also suddenly picking up more hours at work, volunteering to cover stories nobody wanted to cover. 

On the other side of things, Jack was confused. He had thought after his apologies that everything would be fine? He thought you needed space, so he gave you plenty. But now it seemed like the two of you weren’t even together anymore. 

“Dude, just talk to her” Trevor's voice was somehow still loud over the phone. 

“Yeah but she wants space” Jack sighed, as if Trevor had no idea how girls worked. 

“Okay… and did she tell you that?”

“I can tell” 

Trevor shuffled on the other end of the line. “Okay Jack, listen. You guys have been together what? A year now? You can’t just throw away your whole relationship because she may or may not be a little insecure. Why don't you talk to her? Like actually sit and figure this out” 

For the first time, Jack thought, Trevor was making some sense.

“I want to be with you! Do you want to be with me?” Jack's voice was unintentionally rough and loud as he questioned you. 

“Of course I want to be with you!” your voice is just as loud. 

“Then what's the big deal!” Jack is visibly annoyed as if you're some person that's wasting his time.   

“Well, don’t like other girls' instagram posts and stare at models in public!” you retort, crossing your arms childishly. Jack throws his hands up in the air, sighing loudly. 

“I like you, what don't you understand?” Jack enunciates each word loudly and waves his hands around wildly in some effort to make his point clear.

“Why can't you understand that I just need some reassurance!” you cry out, completely worn out by this conversation. 

“Reassurance? I’m not going to cheat on you! Why do you think so low of me?” Jack pauses, seeming to connect the dots in his head. “Oh. this is about him” Jacks voice turns cold and you feel the oncoming sting in your throat. 

“Just because you’ve been cheated on before doesn’t mean that it's going to happen again.” your cheeks felt wet. Were you crying? 

“I don't think you’re going to cheat on me” you whisper, arms wrapping around yourself in a bad attempt at trying to calm yourself down. 

Jack stands still, staring at you with glaring eyes. 

“I just want… I want…” you can't even finish your sentence. You didn’t know what you wanted. You just felt so bad about yourself. 

Jack stares, nodding his head in exasperation as he watches you cry. “Yeah, well, when you figure that out call me” 

“Jack please,” you call to him through tears, following him down your hallway as you watch him walk away. 

You never called. 

⋆ ★

A month went by, and you felt the breakup in every aspect of your life. Work reminded you of that first day with Jack. Your apartment reminded you of all the times he would walk you home… you missed him. 

“We’re going out tonight! Enough being sad” your coworker, Claudia, exclaimed as she walked into your apartment. She was holding a saks bag, no doubt filled to the brim with outfit options for the night ahead. 

“I’m not feeling it” you mumble, eyes immediately finding focus on your tv screen. 

“It's been a month yn.. If you don't go out now, you're never going to” Claudia's voice is soft. She sets the bag of clothes beside you on the couch, and she silent starts showing you your options. 

“That ones cute” your voice is muffled but Claudia hears you anyway. 

“Perfect!” She smiles, setting your choice to the side and pulling out a plastic bag full of accessories. 

You felt ridiculous. You were wearing heels much too small, and your dress was way too tight. The drinks though… definitely hit the spot. And after a while, you didn’t think of Jack at all. 

“I’m having so  much fun!” your words were slurred as you slung one of your arms around Claudia's shoulder. She smiled happily at you, tipsily swaying your hips so you were both dancing to the beat of the music that was blasting throughout the club. 

“Is that…?” Claudia starts but then abruptly stops, almost as if she had seen a ghost. 

“Is that what!” you shout cheerfully, spinning yourself and Claudia around so that you could see what she saw. 

“Y/n don't!” Claudia tries to reposition you but it is too late. 

In the middle of the dance floor stood Jack Hughes, your Jack Hughes, and some girl that looked oddly familiar. As if sensing your gaze, the girl turned. It was the girl from instagram. 

“I’m going to be sick!” you moaned, hand covering your mouth as Claudia quickly rushes you outside of the club. Luckily, the two of you make it outside rather quickly, and then you're heaving onto the streets of New York. 

“I am so sorry! I had no idea that he’d be here!” Claudia speaks apologetically, holding your hair out of your face as you continue dry heaving. 

“He's with.. Oh my god” you emptied out what must've been everything in your stomach. “Claudia, he's with her!” you cried, drunkenly leaning into your friends side. Claudia grabbed hold of you, walking you down the street so that the two of you could hail a cab. “I know, i’m so sorry”

Once you were situated in the cab, you leaned your head against the window and closed your eyes. You pictured the look on Jack’s face when he saw you. Surprise, then shock, was it regret next? You weren’t sure. Then you imagined the girl he was with. Pretty, and perfect, and you wanted to cry all over again. 

“I'm blocking him!” you slurred, pulling out your phone and heading straight to your contacts. Claudia nodded along, concern etched in every feature on her face. 

Your hand hovers over the block button. “No! I’m deleting him! He's done. I don't ever want to talk to him again!” you cry, ignoring the cab driver's face as he looks on in disapproval.

“Do what will make you feel better hun,” Claudia speaks to you softly, giving you the courage to block and delete Jack from your phone and life. 

⋆ ★

After that night, you were steadily getting sick. You thought nothing of it at first, chalking up all your symptoms to stress and your recent breakup. It wasn’t until you checked your email that your world stopped spinning. 

Amazon: Upcoming Delivery

Hi Yn Ln,

This confirms your purchase from Tampax

Your visa has not been charged yet - we’ll email you when it has been charged.

Thank you for using Amazon Pay.

Your phone fell to the ground with a large thud, and you ran to your kitchen to check your calendar. You flipped through the pages, looking for the little red dots that signified the days that you had gotten your period. You flipped through the months.

February

January

December

You couldn’t think as you stuffed your feet into your ugg boots. You put your jacket on while you half-ran down the stairs, and if it weren’t for the man on the 3rd floor grabbing your arm to steady you, you would've crashed down the remaining flights. 

Your nearest bodega was only one block away, and when you got there a minute later, panting and trying to catch your breath, reality had finally set in. 

Your breathing was laboured and loud as you came to a stop in front of the pregnancy tests. How was this your life? 

You bought one of every kind, and you tried to ignore the burning gaze of the cashier who rang all your items through. 

“That’ll be $65.24” 

It seemed like less than a minute later you were back in your apartment. All of your surroundings blur into nothingness as you pull the tests out of your coat jacket. 

You stumble into your bathroom, slam the door shut behind you, and peel off your leggings. 

You decide to take all the tests at once, leaving only two for backups in case you did something wrong. The last test shook violently in your hand, and only then did you realize that you were crying. 

Positive

Pregnant

+

Two lines

⋆ ★

The first thing you had done when you found out you were pregnant last night was block Jack Hughes. He was the only person you had slept with in the past 3 months, and in your frustration you blamed him. Your relationship was over with, he had moved on, and now you were pregnant? Life was cruel. 

After a long debate, a night full of crying, and an afternoon of rest and relaxation… you decided it was best that you told Jack about the pregnancy. 

You type in Jack's contact: a nickname, two white hearts and a sword emoji that represented something you couldn’t quite recall in your panic induced state. When his nickname showed no results, you hit the backspace button and typed in his full name, which you assumed you might have switched to when you saw him out with another girl. 

No result. 

You dropped your phone into the sink with a loud clatter. 

fuck. 

That night's events replayed in your mind like a bad film. You had blocked and deleted Jack's contact. 

You wipe the tears from your eyes with the back of your hand, breathing in deeply as you reach into the sink and pick up your phone. Everythings fine… you have him on instagram. You can just message him there. 

jackhughes

unblock

Life truly was cruel, you thought, sobs racking your body as you let yourself slide onto your bathroom floor. 

You unblocked Jack, only to find that his follow was removed. 

It's fine… you reassured yourself as you hit the unblock button and started drafting your message. He’ll see it. He has too. 

⋆ ★

You checked to see if he had seen the dm the next evening, and to your surprise, you were blocked.

Tears immediately started blurring your vision and you couldn't help but cry out in pain. 

What the fuck were you going to do.

part two

#journalist au! #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes fic #trevor zegras x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fic

[wilwheaton]

When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

#tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw exploitation #child actor #still just a geek #lucio fulci #trauma survivor #speaking up for the child who was silenced by his abusers

[shooting-love-arrows]

A villian yandere? Not like those cartoon villian but the one that actually make the reader feel fearful, not because the villian is physicaly scary or something but the villian is so cunning, sly and manipulative like the knave from genshin or fyodor from bsd

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 x reader (gender not mentioned/specified/implied) TW. manipulation, isolation, holding reader against her will, stockholm syndrome, dark yandere, flag so red my eyes hurts, unhinge, yandere behavior. A/N: Inspired by manhwas I've read so far. I'm on a roll guys. I didn't expect it to be this long too but man, he's one crazy creation.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Who isolates you to the point of insanity. It is widely known humans are social creatures and we need social interactions. However, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 used this fact to his advantage. Knowing that after a while people go mad when they don’t interact with other people, he decided to do just that. At first his manipulation is subtle: hidden suggestions about who is right to hand with and who's not. Little yet meaningful words weaved between innocent sentences. Then when he saw his tactics working, he began to get bolder. As the group of people becomes smaller (thanks to him) 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 starts to outwardly say they aren't people you should associate with. They are a bad influence and did you know they said this and that behind your back? Real friends don’t do that! He doesn’t do that! That's when comments about how you don't need anyone but him, who always stays by your side and was right about what he told you, each and every time. Your family isn't safe from his doings either. He never fails to drive you away from them. Suddenly they are people who lead you on and make a fool out of you. A black sheep of the family. You just had to see! Before you know it, you are completely alone with only him to talk and listen to.

"I'm just looking out for you like a best friend should be doing." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 wanted to vomit when he said those two, blasted words.

Who snaps and ends up locking you up. Now that you're completed isolated and you happen to start living with him, he locks you up. In a bedroom with a bathroom attached who only has necessities and nothing you could harm yourself with. You can bang, scratch and kick at the door all you want but those doors won't budge. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 is fully prepared. Those doors were expensive but it was worth it. Those locks could be opened by him and the material it was made of could not be so easily destroyed without certain tools you didn’t have. And you're yelling, begging and crying? It is like music to his ears. He'll often sit at the door and listen to you, basking in your voice, and when you're quiet (either pass out from exhaustion or too tired to continue), he'll pick up from where he ended the last time, manipulating you again. His sentences are repetitive and he wants to drill those into your head. He'll tell you how no one is looking for you, how he's all you need, how he'll take care of you and so on...

"Those people want to hurt you. I am doing this for your own good. If you want, I can bring you something? I was thinkng about tamagochi! They are so cut, aren't they?"

Who has to show you some tough love. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 didn’t expect you to realize just how much he loves you. That’s why he tried to be an understanding partner and be forgiving towards your rash and childish tantrums. But he has his limits too. For example, he notices how you don't eat meals he oh so lovingly has prepared for you. If you don’t want to eat, then he won’t force you. He just doesn't bring you food for the next 2-3 days. Only water. And on the fourth day, he'll bring you a proper meal again. Of course, like he expected, you ate it all. See? It’s not hard to act your age. You don’t see it but 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 smiled in glee when he saw an empty plate. It's a good sign!

"I'm relieved you like the food I prepared for you. I cooked it for the first time but when I saw the recipe I knew you'd like it."

Who you grow to not only fear and love. He is your captor, the one who took away your freedom and cut all ties with society, who manipulates you and ends up breaking you. Who you feared, despised and cursed like he was the source of all evil. But the longer you stayed in the little room that became your whole world, the lines between hater and love began to blurr. Not that you realized it. At some point something switched in your brain and although you feared him, you began to ponder over his words. Maybe he's right? After this period of time, no one ended up looking for you. No one cared enough to do so. And you do only have him. He always makes time for you, brings you delicious meals, and sometimes even gifts you a little trinkets when you act good. Not to mention you live in a nice bedroom with a bathroom too. He never touched you without your consent or forced you to do anything. You could make a choice to bathe whenever you want, pick one of the books he brought you and read and so on. Your brain was suggesting that he is a caring best friend who takes care of you and protects you from all those monserts that want to hurt and bring you down. Soon enough his actions made your heart speed up.

"I knew you'll love me..." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 teared up when he heard your confession. It was worth the waiting becaouse now he can bulit a perfect life he always imagined having with you. "I love too. So, so, so much sometimes it hurts."

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #male yandere x reader #fanfic #x reader #imagines #yandere #headcanons #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere simulator #yandere male #tw yandere #male yandere #reader insert #headcanon #yandere headcanons #male x reader #x female reader #x female y/n #male x female reader #yandere x darling #yandere scenarios #yandere villain #oc x reader #s.l.arrows writes <3

[loosescrewslefty]

Screaming, crying and OBSESSING over the way Anya and Demetrius are on opposite sides of the Neurodivergent scale and also far more similar to one another than either one realizes. More than any other character we've seen so far, it feels like these two are Yin and Yang, opposite sides of the same coin.

Demetrius easily absorbs facts, figures, and other information that follows a set pattern. But people confuse and frustrate him, and he deals with that by not dealing with it. Anya has the ability to understand more about strangers she passes on the street than people who see them regularly ever could, but traditional academics can overwhelm her so she is resistant to studying. And yet both of them are othered and seen as abnormal by everyone around them, building a wall between them and their peers that they both find difficult to overcome.

Anya tries to fit in through masking, pretending as hard as she can to be normal (with limited success) but Demetrius has given up after going so long without anyone helping him better understand others which leads to him disassociating in social situations as a self defense mechanism, to get in and out as quickly and painlessly as possible while telling himself it doesn't matter.

Except it does.

Demetrius didn't need to ask about Damian's stella. But he did. Because he wants to find some sort of common ground with his brother even as he reassures himself that it doesn't matter and he doesn't care. He doesn't pick up on the fact that this makes Damian feel self conscious, that he's comparing his one stella to Demetrius' six and worried their father will love him less for not being as successful. Demetrius doesn't understand how the subject switched to Donovan at all, and shuts down hard when their father is mentioned. Just like he did when Damian called and asked him to be a bridge between them way back when.

(Demetrius warning Damian not to get his hopes up about Donovan coming to meet him also conflicts with his internal dialog about how the people around him don't matter and he doesn't need to care about understanding them. If it actually doesn't matter to him, then he wouldn't care if Donovan blew Damian off.)

Circling back to the original thought though, I desperately hope that we're going to get Demetrius and Anya interacting directly with one another at some point in the future because I have a feeling that Anya's blunt, child-like nature will lead to her just directly telling Demetrius the things that are eluding him when he interacts with others, demystifying all the unspoken social cues he's supposed to yet cannot intuit for the first time in his life. And he is going to be in awe of this child for her ability to not only understand others, but translate for him when he cannot grasp whatever it is they are trying and failing to say to him.

Demetrius could appreciate Anya's abilities, rather than being afraid of or disturbed by them. And they could both understand the feeling of not fitting in with the crowd. Of knowing that others regard them with fear and contempt, or want to use the things that make them different for their own purposes and treat them like they are just a tool instead of a person. The potential is there for a very interesting platonic relationship between two kids who have spent their whole lives feeling like their differences alienated them from everyone else in their life, and in Anya's case a fear that the discovery of that difference would lead to her losing the love of everyone important to her in her life.

#spy x family #anya forger #damian desmond #demetrius desmond #spy x family manga #spy x family manga spoilers #sxf #sxf manga spoilers #twisting them around like a rubix cube

[strawbeerossi]

The Party Trick

18+ Content. Minors DNI

Pairing: fem!reader x Spencer Reid

Description: After seeing a tutorial on how to pick a lock on handcuffs, reader decides to put it to the test to have a new party trick to show the others at the BAU. After doing it a few times with each hand, she gets bold and cuffs both wrists, leaving her trapped, until Spencer comes over and things get interesting.

Content Warning: Coarse language, panic, fear of embarrassment, restraints, Spencer laughs and teases reader, sub Spencer, Dom reader, mean reader, humiliation fetish, praising, degradation, orgasm denial, oral (m receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex.

Word Count: 3.2K

Y'all, I'm nervous as fuck to post this lmao. This has been in the drafts for a while. I'm not the best with smut because I haven't written it in a while. This is your warning. Read at your own risk.

Part two

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“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.” Y/N spoke aloud to herself, an agitated huff leaving her lips.

An hour ago, she’d been watching some random YouTube videos, just mainly to pass the time. There was all sorts of dumb shit she watched, although when she came across a video or a man showing how to pick the locks of a handcuff with a bobby pin, it captured her interest. It seemed simple enough, cuff one hand to something beside you then use the bobby pin to pick the keyhole and free yourself.

She had way too much fun as she figured out exactly how to do it, starting with handcuffing herself to the handle on the nightstand. It took about five minutes to get herself free, the woman switching wrists eventually and getting herself freed with more practice.

Then she got cocky. All she could picture was using this as a party trick, having someone handcuff her hands behind her back while she used the pin that she could hide in the palm of her hand to escape. Then everyone would be astonished and impressed. So, she was determined to make that dream a reality.

It all happened so fast. She had the pin in the palm of her right hand, securely held as she used her left to cuff right wrist. In an attempt to close it with her hand still clamped around the pin, she did her best to lock the cuffs around her left wrist. However, in the act of finding a way to lock it, the pin slipped from yer grasp just as she had her wrists cuffed behind her back. 

“Fuck!” She cursed, panic setting in from being trapped without anyone to help her. So, in an awkward attempt to lean down to grab the only thing that could free her, she was bending in all sorts of positions to try and secure the hairpin that was laying on the floor, almost taunting her. Well, now she’d be stuck in her apartment until someone figured out she was missing. Then she’d more than likely have a whole team of people to bust down her door and then laugh at her.

This was the opposite that she wanted. Now she’d be the talk of the team for trapping herself in handcuffs while trying some stupid attempt to free herself. She could already hear all the shit Derek would tease her with now.

“The amazing Y/N, going to show us the special trick that not all fbi agents should be trusted with handcuffs!”

“You know, you shouldn’t play with the tools we are given for the field.”

Derek fucking Morgan.

There was a sigh of defeat as Y/N was accepting her fate of being known for the idiot on the team who gets herself trapped.

However, she was pulled out of her thoughts when she could hear a knock against her apartment door. Thank God! Hopefully it was a family member or something. They’d understand that she did dumb things sometimes and would let her live it down more than her coworkers would.

While hurrying and running from her room like a criminal trying to escape capture with the cool metal of the handcuffs stabbing into their flesh, she was stopping at the front door. “Hold on!” She called, turning around first to try and reach the lock so she could unlock the door. However, when it wasn’t working out, she was huffing from irritation and turning around. She ended up having to use her mouth to unlock the top lock, same with the bottom.

“You’ll have to open the door!” She called, taking a few steps back. However, her heart dropped when she seen who was on the other side of the door. The only reason she was alerted of his presence early was from the way he was asking if she was alright. The moment that Spencer Reid came into view, Y/N face was bright red from embarrassment.

“Not a word of this to the team!” Her voice came out in a squeak, making the genius snort out a laugh as he walked around the woman after closing the door behind him. “How did you even manage to trap yourself?” He asked, not giving her time to answer.

“Y/N Houdini.” He snickered as he was stopping and bringing his hands to run over the metal of the cuffs restraining her arms behind her back. “Is this gonna be your debut into escapism magic? Cause I think you have to actually know how to escape to put on a show.” He continued on.

The words had Y/N’s face growing hotter from the teasing, a huff leaving her lips. “Get your laughs out. Come on.” She demanded while turning around soon after. “Piss me off and I’ll cuff you to your desk at the office and swallow the key.” Of course, all talk and no action from a woman who essentially trapped herself.

“Are you kidding?! I wouldn’t let you. Besides, I’ve seen enough of escapism magic to know how to escape.. Without losing the thing that will grant me freedom.” He commented while grabbing ahold of the cuffs while he chuckled. "Show me where the key is." He spoke, his tone level as the humor of the situation was losing it's power over him.

It wasn't fully lost on him though. In fact, he'd never let her live it down. "You know, the others would've probably forgot about this at some point.." He trailed off, looking around the walls decorated with tapestries, pictures, and some other miscellaneous wall decor. "I, however, will not." He smirked.

Stupid fucking eidetic memory.

"Ha ha. You're hilarious."

"I think you take the cake for being hilarious. Everyone is gonna love this story. I'm sure that even Hotch will get a laugh out of it."

"I hate you."

In reality, it was.. Kinda funny. The thought of seeing someone else on the team in the position she was currently in was enough to make her snort out a laugh of her own. "I'm a fucking idiot, huh?"

The words made Spencer wave her off. "Definitely not a genius but.. Maybe a little smarter than Morgan." His tone was teasing as he was grabbing the small box she showed him that contained the key to the cuffs suspending her.

His first mistake was freeing her, mainly because there was a form of blind trust after being the one to free him.

The minute that Spencer had those cuffs off and was handing her the metallic restraints and turned his back to her, she as using the opportunity to catch him off guard, the male's eyes widening the moment he felt the cold metal against his skin.

"Y/N! What the hell??"

Now it was her turn to laugh, her hands coming up to rest against her mouth. "Now who's the genius, Reid?" She taunted, all in good fun.

Spencer's face was red, eyes on the ground while he had to take in a breath. His body was tense, feeling powerless in the time being.

He was also incredibly turned on by the idea of doing whatever he needed to in order to get out of the cuffs.

The silence grew heavy, tension filling the air. "Oh, come on. Don't be mad at me, Spence. It's all in good fun!" She said while heading over to grab his upper arms. "You are so red," She pouted, her hands cupping the hot skin of his face as he was staring down at the woman, looking as submissive as ever.

That did something to her, a blush creeping up on her face as sinful thoughts began to plague her mind. The thought of leaving a whimpering, sticky mess. The way he'd definitely be the type to beg her for more while she was seated pretty on his lap, doing something like read a book while just being full.

The thoughts had her thighs tightly clenching, arousal surely coating her panties enough to make a wet spot.

Unable to help herself, it wasn't long until the tie around his neck was in her hand, pulling the man down to clash their lips together. The action had Spencer squeaking, although his lips were desperately slotting with hers in a messy kiss. He needed it. He needed her.

It wasn't abnormal for Spencer to have such thoughts, his coworker being on his mind since the moment she joined the team. How could he not be fond of her? She was beautiful, intelligent, plus she was probably the only person who would actually sit and listen to his ramblings whenever something came up.

She was perfect in every way really, however, he knew that there was a long list of things preventing a relationship within the team. Last thing he wanted was for himself or Y/N to be transferred to a different branch.

However his thoughts weren’t particularly on that right now, his body falling back against the plush mattress from a push, not even having time to register what was happening before the woman was straddling his waist. Her hands were on either side of his face, her lips pressing back against his in a more rough, needy kiss.

Spencer's wrists were fighting the cuffs, a huff being muffled against Y/N's lips as he realized that he was being denied the right to touch her, to let his hands caress her smooth skin. His heart was beating against his chest, almost as if it were dying to be released.

All of his thoughts were eventually going out the door the minute he felt the feeling of delicate fingers in his hair. However instead of savoring the feeling of her fingers threading through the messy head of curls, his mouth was agape as soon as her hand was roughly pulling Spencer's hair back.

"I'm gonna fuck you stupid, Dr. Reid."

Oh.

The words were enough to make a moan rip from Spencer’s throat, eyes trained up on the woman who was propping herself up on her knees in order to look down at the man. 

“Cat got your tongue, doctor?” Y/N taunted while she was looking down at the man with a soft smirk. She didn’t even have to touch him and he was already putty in her hands. The way his eyes were trained on her, looking like a puppy begging for more. “‘Cause you were very vocal earlier when you had so much to say.” She mused.

“I-I” The woman was bringing her hands to Spencer’s shoulders, her hips rocking against his while awaiting an answer.

“I’m waiting.” 

“I-I.. Fuck. I don’t have anything to s-say.” He stuttered, bucking his hips to try and relieve the pressure from his cock that was already standing at attention. “Who would’ve thought Spencer Reid would be quiet when someone is trying to talk to him? You don’t have any facts? Statistics?” She continued dragging on, nudging Spencer’s body back in order to have him lay down in the middle of the queen sized bed. 

“Give me a statistic about..” She was looking around her bedroom while sliding down Spencer’s legs. “Ooh! A statistic about dominant and submissive dynamics..” She dragged out the word ‘submissive’ as her hands were slowly moving to unbutton his pants. His head was spinning, brain mush.

“A study showed that,” He paused as her fingers were quickly tugging down the zipper before her hands were pulling the slacks down his legs. “I didn’t tell you to stop.” She commented, her eyebrow raising as her movements came to a halt. “T-that 51% of men and 39-” His eyes were fluttering shut the minute he felt her mouth now ghosting over his hard cock in his underwear, her tongue licking over the wet spot of his boxers.

“39% of women are attracted to the idea of having a d-dominant or submissive partner..” He stuttered out, now lifting his hips in hopes of feeling those delicate fingers in the waistband of his boxers. Which, his wish was granted. “That’s really interesting, isn’t it? Good job, baby.” She hummed.

As his cock was revealed to her, she was grinning. His tip was red, beads of pre-cum rolling down his angry, desperate cock. “So pretty!” She praised, laying on her stomach between his legs as her hand was wrapping around the thick base of his cock, thumb swiping over the sensitive tip to smear the mess around.”Who knew Dr. Reid was hiding this? Always the shy and smart ones, huh?” She commented, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock.

Spencer could hear her talking, however he wasn’t responding. His brain was clouded, head falling back against the pillow that rested behind his head. “F-fuck.” He hissed, her tongue now running over the underside of the genius’ cock, cleaning up the mess that she’d already caused. 

Her hands came out to rest firmly against his hips, holding him down from bucking like he so desperately tried to do. “P-please..” He let out a slow breath as his eyes were fluttering shut. His voice was shaking, tone laced with need and more desperation than she could’ve expected.

She smiled while licking over his cock one more time before granting him yet another desperate plea that fell from his lips in the form of a whimper. As her lips closed around his cock, she let her eyes flutter shut. Her tongue was flat, her head beginning to move in a slow motion. She was hollowing her cheeks while bobbing her head, her own moans vibrating around his already desperate cock. As she let her grip tighten on his hips, her eyes were opening to peak up at him through her eyelashes.

His curls were disheveled, his head thrown back as his chest was rapidly rising and falling. The strangled sounds of whimpers and pleads for more falling from his lips. It was a beautiful sight, she knew that much. 

Spencer wasn’t the only one wildly turned on, Y/N’s panties being absolutely drenched at this point. From her position, she could rock her hips against the mattress, just wanting to relieve the pressure in her clit as she could practically feel her heartbeat in the bundle of nerves. She was growing desperate herself, needing to feel his cock inside her, stretching her out with the delicious burn that came with it.

She was pulled from her thoughts when she could feel the twitch of his cock, indicating he was close. That was her cue to pull off with a loud ‘pop’ echoing through the room along with a small whine falling from Spencer's lips. That whine was enough to make her clench around nothing.

“Shush.” She breathed while wiping the spit from her jaw with her thumb, a breathless laugh leaving her lips as she was eventually standing, enough to shimmy her pants and panties down her legs to reveal her glistening cunt. Spencer’s eyes were trailing slowly up her now bare legs, eyes coming to her pussy while his mouth was open, pupils blown out from lust. “Please let me touch you. Wanna- Fuck- Wanna be able to-” He was cut off by her lips, the two sharing a chaste kiss before her teeth were sinking into his lower lip, giving it a playful tug before letting it go. 

“Not this time.” She spoke softly, her lips kissing him once more before she was crawling over him again, her hands running over his clothed chest while moving between them.

As soon as she had his cock in her hands, all sense of reason went out the window. To be fair, neither of them were really thinking of a condom right now. 

After teasing herself by tapping his tip against her clit, she sucked in a breath. “Fuck, Spencer.” She whispered, eventually sinking down his base. Her head was lolling forward, her mouth agape as she was sinking fully, their pelvises now flush against one another’s. “Holy fuck.”

Spencer on the other hand had to think of anything other than cumming inside of her before she even got a chance to even ride him. However, he felt like she’d ultimately end up overstimulating him in that scenario. He didn’t want that now though. No, he’d rather wait until he didn’t have fucking metal preventing him from gripping onto her hips, letting him fuck up into her rather than be forced to watch her have every ounce of control and power. Even though he had to admit, he could get used to this. 

As her velvety walls were clenching around his cock, she was leaning forward slightly as her hips were rolling against his, her head falling forward as she cried out softly. With the length that Spencer had, the right angle would have his tip pushing perfectly against the spongy spot deep inside her that was making her see stars already. 

“F-fuck. You f-feel amazing.” It was Spencer's turn to talk, watching the way her tits were bouncing with every movement, even with a clothed torso, she had the man below salivating at the thought of what lay below that blue cardigan. “You take m-my cock so well.” Even through the grunts and groans, there was still a hint of him being unsure. This wasn’t really something he did often, so here we was, doing something he’d seen once or twice in the few pornos he’d consumed at some point. “Ah! Fuck, Reid. I’m gonna cum. Fuck, you- ugh.” Y/N breathed, continued her motions  while doing her best to quicken her pace, even though her bounces were growing a bit sloppy, her legs getting tired. 

With the grip of his tie and a loud cry of his name, it wasn’t long until she was creaming on his cock, a thin veil of sweat on her face as she was continuing her movements. “Fuck. You gonna cum, Reid? Wanna fill me up? She spoke, the words sending electricity through the man’s body as his cock was twitching once more.

He’d done his best to thrust his hips upward, a low groan leaving his lips as he only needed a few more movements before his vision went white.

Y/N was a whimpering mess, feeling the warm gush of cum that Spencer was coating her inner walls with, the woman’s upper body gently falling forward as her eyes flutter shut. 

They laid there for a while, the woman clutching tightly onto her close friend while trying to catch her breath. “Remind me to carry around those handcuffs more often.” She spoke, a light laugh leaving her lips as she was lifting her hips and moving off of him soon after.

“Maybe don’t get yourself trapped next time..” Spencer chuckled, now looking over at the woman as she was sitting him up, finally using the key to free his wrists from their restraints. “Feel like you owe me now..” He began, the woman laughing as she placed the cuffs on her bedside table. 

“Spencer Reid, are you really asking me for round two right now?” She asked, making the man give a cheeky smile.

“Maybe if you’re the one in the handcuffs this time.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

[tvxqmylove]

Let's raise our glasses to Izzy and OFMD creators

I just have to get it off my chest, I understand Izzy's death came as a shock and very upsetting event for many, and a lot of people are going on and on about how he deserved a better fate and how he was not just some tool to serve someone else's story. Please try to calm down and see the bigger picture. 

It is now clear that he was always meant to die. It was foreshadowed in the first minute of the second season, a ridiculous, villain's death. Being the symbolic obstacle to Stede and Ed's happiness. 

Of course that was the wrong way for him to go. When he confessed to his crush Blackbeard he got shot by him, almost died, begged to be killed, and then he even tried to kill himself. Still didn't work. It wasn’t his time yet and that was the wrong way for him to go. When he learned that he was loved and cared for after all, just not in the way he expected, he changed. He became positive, he became forgiving. Then he stopped being miserable he started genuinely wishing for the happiness of others as well, instead of being bitter about it. His death might not have a point but his life did. He had the crew's and Ed's and even Stede's back, and they knew it. As David Jenkins stated, he played the role of a wise mentor that was passing along his life experiences to others. Then it was his time. Also, as foreshadowed, he symbolically took away Blackbeard, and opened a way for Stede and Ed as well.

A happy ending is not only walking off to sunset with a lover, taking up a new job or walking into a house of your family and petting your dog before you close the door. A good death, and a life well-lived is a happy ending. Leaving behind people that loved you is a happy ending. This was a happy ending for him. 

He lived the way he wanted, as a pirate, an infamous one that has received respect and recognition. Then he resolved the parts of his life that became problematic and toxic, he repaired the relationships

that was broken, he forgave the people he needed to forgive. After going through hell, he was basically a bubble of positivity, going around giving solid advices, encouraging people and partying. He was done. He gave the best damn speech of his life at a bar like giving his own eulogy and it was awesome. He died at the arms of the person he loved the most. 

Yes he could have had more, everyone that ever died could have had more. But he died gracefully and complete, surrounded by people he loved and cared about, knowing that they will be fine. That was his story. I am sad that he died, but he died beautifully, best you can hope for in a pirate life. And he will live on, in the hearts of the people he touched by his existence. 

Finally, never harass the creators. It is their hard work that gave us Izzy in the first place. Trust their creative process, and afterwards take it or leave it, do not harass them and try to put them in a box of your personal demands. If so, what kind of 3rd season can we even expect?

#ofmd #ofms s2 #ofmd season 2 spoilers #izzy hands #israel hands #our flag means death #blackbeard #david jenkins #edward teach #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #ofmd izzy #ofmd season 2 #ofmd spoilers #renew as a crew #con o'neill #rhys darby #taika waititi #stede bonnet

[autistpride]

AUTISM ACCEPTANCE

Teacher AU from April's prompts by @wolfstarmicrofic

Wordcount: 998

Remus had been waiting for this day for years. Nearly a decade, but the waitlist was seven years long and he was low on the priority list because he wasn’t in a mental health crisis and had a somewhat stable home and job situation, but after nine years, he finally got the calls.

Remus first began to suspect he might be autistic when he began teaching. Remus taught at the primary level, year one, and all of the students in his class were autistic. He related to his students and seemed to understand them on a level most of the other teachers could not. He spent his own money changing his room up, buying sensory tools and various items. In the end his students thrived and Remus was so proud of them.

As the years passed, Remus gained a reputation for being quirky, odd, and a bit too into the fandom for the book series he was into. But despite being a bit of a “loner” and not developing much of a relationship with his coworkers, Remus was beloved by his students and as a result, their families.

Remus set up his assessments during the half term, or tried too, but his final meeting was during a school day and that was unfortunately unable to be rescheduled due to the psychologists busy schedule. 

Remus explained to his students the day before his appointment that he would not be at the classroom Friday morning. He would be at a doctor’s appointment and they would have a substitute teacher until lunch time. Naturally they had questions, as all curious children do.

“Mr. Lupin, are you sick?”

“No, Hermione, I’m not sick. Just a meeting.” 

“Do you promise you’ll be back at lunch time to get us from the playground?”

“Yes, Harry, I promise. I will be standing at the side ready to collect you from the playground at the end of your break.”

“Do you have a baby in you?”

This one caused Remus to snort. “No Ron, I don’t have a baby in my belly. I know you have a little sister coming soon though huh?” Remus asked the boy who beamed and nodded. 

“Are you going to die?”

“No I am absolutely not dying, Draco. You don’t have to worry. You are going to be stuck with me all year!” Remus said in a low tone crouched down and wiggling his fingers like a monster.

This caused a bout of giggles from the young children and Remus chuckled before helping them pack up for the day.

Friday morning he rose early, packed everything he needed for the day, and rode the bus the hour to the city. He sat and listened as the psychologist explained he did in fact meet the criteria for autism and after years of waiting, he was officially diagnosed. The psychologist explained that it wasn’t uncommon for trans males to go undiagnosed their whole lives because many doctors were biassed against females as well as people of colour. They kept asking if Remus was okay, if he was upset or needed any support because they knew that hearing this information was a lot. 

But Remus just felt relief and peace. He finally felt like it all made since, his whole life

The bus ride back to the village Remus teared up as he texted his best friend Lily that he got it and she replied instantly with many hugs and heart emojis and then a message saying that she knew he would and that she was proud of him.

Remus walked from the bus stop to the school and buzzed in through the staff entrance in the back with his badge. He placed all his stuff in his locker in the staff lounge, made sure his badge was the right way on his lanyard, and made his way to the enclosed play area where his students would be.

Slowly, one at a time, his students noticed his arrival and ran around finding the other classmates to tell them that he was there. Then without warning they screamed and ran over to him, tackling him with hugs, causing Remus to laugh as he hugged them back.

Soon the students were all lining up to go back into the classrooms, but Remus was confused, the substitute wasn’t there. He asked where Mr. Black was and Luna said that he stayed behind because he had something he had to do in the classroom since Mr. Lupin would be there to get them. Remus was confused and puzzled because he had prepared all the materials for the day’s lessons and there was nothing that needed to be prepared during the lunch period. 

They made their way back to the classroom in a line, Remus walking backwards like a professional at this point, directing his students in their songs for things like planets, continents and oceans, and skip counting as they walked. They entered the classroom one at a time ahead of him and when he turned to walk through the doorway he froze.

His entire classroom was decorated for a party, his students sitting on the reading rug holding onto little drawings. In the back, Sirius held up a small cake. “Congratulations!” written on the whiteboard in Sirius’ beautiful loopy cursive. 

Remus’ hands quickly covered his mouth in surprise as he looked around and took it all in. “Oh,” he whispered.

“Class what do we say to Mr. Lupin?” Sirius asked with a cheeky grin.

The entire class erupted into screams of “ONE OF US! ONE OF US!” 

Remus threw his head back and laughed despite the happy tears that welled in his eyes. 

Remus had never felt confident before in his life. Never felt like he actually fit someplace before until now. 

And if he bit his lip to try to hide his smirk and raised his eyebrows at Sirius when he had Sirius’ number in his phone after years of pining, well who could blame him. 

#mauraders #actually audhd #wolfstar #autistic pride #autism acceptance #supin good soup #my writing

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

hcs for all the castlevania boys (trevor, issac, hector, alucard, dracula, godbrand, the judge, varney, ratko & st. germain- i think that's all of them lol) caring for s/o reader on their period. can be modern times or past times whichever u prefer. 💖

A/N: I wish more people would be less disgusted and more understanding when it comes to menstruation. There are still so many myths circulating about it, I’m shocked sometimes. One time a guy on Twitter said he thought women got periods because they evolved to eat meat. And I was like…. Excuse you?? Lol. Anyway, on to the HCs!

Sorry, some are short. I wanted to do longer to make it fair but there were like TEN characters mentioned and my max is supposed to be SIX so some are taking a far back seat. 

TW: Blood, Period Mention (still w/ GN Reader)

Castlevania Boys Helping S/O GN!Reader with Their Period: 🩸

Trevor: 

Is surprisingly resourceful, given the man was a wandering drunk when you first met him.

Not so much in a kind about-it way, he’s very sarcastic and so over the whole thing right after it starts.

But he did have a large family once so he remembers what his sisters and mother went through.

Will cut off strips of his cape for you to use, but expects you to take care of any sort of ‘mess’, he’s pre-occupied cleaning whatever latest monster’s guts off himself anyway

Buys a whiskey but lets YOU drink most of it to help with the cramps (and for him this is the ultimate sign he loves you lol).

Alucard: 

Is unexpectedly awkward for someone whose mother was a doctor.

He’s very knowledgeable but unsure of how to broach the subject, sort of giving you instructions on what to do (as if you made it to the age you did without knowing??).  

And of course, the castle has everything you could need, and if it doesn’t, he won’t hesitate to travel to get it for you. Although he does insist you stay in while he retrieves it.

If you’ve been together for a while, offers to help clean you up in equal parts removed curiosity and bewitched hunger (although he’s comparatively embarrassed about that later part).

Hector: 

Not phased at all. The man’s used to sticking his hands into corpses, why would menstrual blood be an issue?

Isn’t super knowledgeable about it, he’s been alone focusing solely on his needs for so many years, and this was never one of them. But he does try and learn now that he has you.

He sends his most trustworthy night creatures and reanimated pets to go hunting for the herbs and wild medicines you use. On the other hand, Hector orders the more domesticated pets to stay and cuddle/play with you. 

On the days you’re curled up in a ball in bed, he offers to read some of the books he’s been writing as he knows you find his voice very soothing. 

Isaac: 

Fascinated by human psychology and biology from an earlier age, so he’s moderately educated on the subject. 

Blood does not scare him, but he does understand the societal stigma around sharing such a natural cycle with him.

Like Hector, he sends out his night creatures to fetch you whatever you need. 

Ensure you drink enough tea and water to stay hydrated. Also asks that you eat plenty of red meat to help replace some of the iron you’ve lost.

Is one of the few men that requests you stay as active as you can, limiting rather than stopping your regular activities. Movement and keeping your mind occupied should make the days pass much faster, as Issac is a firm believer that self-discipline is one of the most powerful tools of all. 

Godbrand: 

Not grossed out, but ends up grossing YOU out with his enthusiasm about the whole thing

Will of course offer to go down there himself and ‘take care of matters like a man’ - his words, not yours. 

What? For Godbrand, being with a living, breathing, and most importantly, bleeding human are the perks of your relationship. It’s like having a partner and a constant food source all in one!

Will absolutely curse out if not straight-up attack any other vampire who dares to bitch about your mood swings or irritable behavior. And then once you’re out of earshot, he will proceed to bitch about said mood swings and irritable behavior. What? At least he’s gentlemanly enough not to do it to your face.  

Dracula: 

The most caring and respectful king fr

He is super understanding and educated on the subject. In fairness, he’s probably curated half of the books on menstruation within his vast libraries. 

Has the necessary products on hand- strips of cloth, herbs for cramping and pain, teas, and a medieval-era heating pad of his own invention. 

Like Godbrand, offers to pleasure you down there to help relieve some cramps with the help of an orgasm, although he’s much more romantic and poetic when he suggests such a thing to you. And unlike Godbrand, he’s in it solely for your benefit. The idea that he’d get to feed as well is the farthest thing on his mind. 

Literally the most perfect and doting husband to ever walk the face of this earth oh my god.

The Judge: 

Expects you to handle it yourself lol. 

Don’t ask him for advice or aid. If you must seek out assistance, he directs you to another woman or midwife within the town.

Considers it highly inappropriate to discuss such matters, even if you’re together. 

0/10, not very helpful, would not recommend. 

Saint Germain

Knows a decent amount of what to expect and how to aid you should you request it. 

He’s well-educated and very well-traveled, so he’s encountered quite a few different cultural views of menstruation. 

Does, however, expect you to take care of the more messy parts of it.

He will offer you back rubs or make tea, but aside from him being aware of your current condition, he doesn’t change the way he treats you much at all. 

Sala:

Gets high key disgusting with it

Asks if you can gather all your bloody rags in a big bowl so he can perform some satanic ritual with it. (You’re like… Um, no??? Unless you’re cray-cray too, which, if you’re with him, has a fair chance of ringing true.) 

Will tell everyone else in the monastery about it cuz he’s a freak like that.

Keeps reminding you how in your current state, you would be a perfect sacrifice for the Great Lord Dracula… Ya know, because of the blood thing?

Subtly is NOT his strong suit

Varney: 

The entity also known as Death knows your cycle better than you do lol.

Keeps a mental calendar in his head, and starts peppering you with more kisses than usual a few days before your bleeding starts. 

Just really wants to get on your good side. And wants you to recall in the coming days, how sweet he was to you, so you know, you don’t take all your anger and frustration out on him. 

Very little scares him, he is Death after all. But aside from people not dying and Belmont giving him another go, your mood swings on your period scare the hell out of him. 

He’s not a patient man, and by day seven, Varney feels rather demoralized after being encumbered by his partner’s common human condition. 

Begs Ratko for help. Is promptly told to piss off. 

Ratko: 

Doesn’t react, except to tell you that you smell so much better this way. 

He delivers that line in such a deadpan too, you almost misunderstand what he’s talking about.

Admits that he’d be willing to ‘clean you up’, should you find that arousing.

Regards you the same, but does find himself staying closer to you than normal, for fear the other vampires and night creatures around you will find your scent so enticing and try to take what’s his.

Challenges anyone who looks your way longer than five seconds. Partly as a means to protect his claim over you, but mainly because he rather enjoys the combat practice.

#castlevania imagine #castlevania x reader #castlevania imagines #alucard x reader #trevor belmont x reader #hector x reader #dracula x reader #vlad dracula tepes imagine #hector imagine #trevor belmont imagine #alucard imagine #saint germain x reader #saint germain imagine #sala x reader #sala imagine #the judge x reader #the judge imagine #varney x reader #varney imagine #ratko x reader #ratko imagine #alucard castlevania #trevor belmont #hector castlevania #isaac laforeze #isaac castlevania #dracula castlevania #saint germain #varney the vampire #ratko castlevania

[doberbutts]

weird question, but is there a reason why humans with rabies don't become as mindlessly aggressive as animals with rabies? like, how come people with rabies aren't running around biting everyone?

If I'd hazard a guess, it probably cooks us before we progress that far. Additionally, it also likely has something to do with natural instinct- humans with rabies while they are still able to talk report feeling intense fear and pain while experiencing hallucinations.

Most humans actively don't want to hurt other people- I have a schizophrenic aunt and even in her worst delusions and hallucinations where she may be screaming threats, she's never actually followed through on any of them because she genuinely doesn't want to hurt anyone when she's capable of processing situations logically. Similarly, I have a friend-of-a-friend who is also severely mentally ill, and the only times he's ever hurt someone are when he gets grabbed while he's hallucinating that someone is trying to hurt him. Those he's lashed out at in this state get shoved or kicked or punched before he continues to try to get away from them (they also forgive him immediately because they are his caretakers and understand his mental state very well).

When we started using tools as a species, we also stopped reaching for "biting you" as a defensive response unless there is truly no other choice. Even in the grips of intense fear and panic and pain and delusion and hallucination and paranoia, humans are more likely to choose literally any other option than teeth unless that's their last line of defense. We probably did bite each other back when we were no different than our great ape cousins.

More or less, I'm not entirely convinced that rabies sends signals for "bite" specifically, and is more sending signals for "attack", and humans don't really reach for "bite" when attacking as a general rule unlike other animals. Humans who are restrained in their hospital beds are significantly more likely to bite their caregivers- shoving, kicking, and punching are out of the question when you're tied down. That is true regardless of if they have rabies or not.

Additionally, the virus seems to only progress so far before it stagnates at a specific stage in certain animals. Bats are significantly more likely to have "dumb rabies" than "furious rabies". This could be due to a number of things ranging from "dumb rabies makes them incapable of flight and fucks up their sonar [true!] and so they starve to death before symptoms can progress past that [theory!] since they have fast metabolisms and missing even a single night's meal is devastating to their health [true!]" to "bats show some resistance to rabies as a whole [true!] and thus it may take much longer for symptoms to progress in the usual manner and so the bat generally dies before it can go any further [theory!]" Bats CAN progress to the furious stage, but we don't tend to see it as often.

There has never been a recorded instance of rabies passing from human to human so my money's on a combo of the two theories. It's very possible that Grug The Caveman got rabies from the wolves he was trying to tame and then wiped out his entire society by zombie-biting the fuck out of everyone who tried to help him. But we weren't writing things down at that point, so we have no way of knowing.

Rabies' first documentation is 4000 years ago- but it's very possible it existed before that, since the writing just states that the owner of a rabid dog needs to take provisions against it biting anyone, meaning we knew by then what rabies was and that the bite was dangerous. It's very possible this disease has followed us around since before humans harnessed fire and invented the wheel. That's a decent amount of un-accounted-for time for humans to have hulked out and started zombie-biting.

We have so many folkstory monsters in nearly every culture on the planet that boil down to "had contact with an animal that was acting strangly, turned me into a savage monster that tries to kill everything I see less than a month later, btw my monster disease is super contagious and I spread it by biting the fuck out of you" that predate any modern science knowledge of how the virus works, which makes me think that it probably did happen back in the caveman days and it's ancestrial memory that has us clinging to these concepts to this day.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Lifeline

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: When Matt starts to shut down, your stubbornness saves him.

warnings: swearing, angst, panic attack description, pining buffoons, pre-relationship, Matt's mental illness and fear of abandonment

a/n: This is a short birthday fic for the wonderful @abucketofweird who wanted a fic similar to Renegade with Best Friends to Lovers. I hope you enjoy, my dear! 🥳🥰❤️

I know it's short and pre-relationship but there is plenty of angsty Matt! (Also, yes she calls him a million nicknames, but they're not ~explicitly~ together in this). Please let me know if y'all are tired of seeing me write crying!angsty!Matt because I know I write that a lot.

w/c: ~4k

Matt could still remember the day that the Devil had first emerged. It was before his accident, after witnessing a group of teens bully his elementary school classmate on her way home from school. Years of seeing his dad throw hits and his own unwavering moral compass had forged a new being within his own; his rage overtaking his consciousness, forming shaky fists and a flower across his face. 

At the time, he hadn’t known how to fight properly and had gotten his ass kicked. A few decades had passed and, though his ability had grown, his rage had stayed the same. 

Fury was a useful tool, most of the time. Allowing him to push through discomfort and injury until he’d taken down whatever evildoer he’d gone after that day. It was his wrath that kept him going, but it was also his biggest inhibition. 

The desire to beat powerful criminals bloody was overpowering. His gut boiled with anger anytime he heard someone crying for help, knowing that, more than likely, the only thing sparing them from that cruel fate was him—a blind Catholic with a chip on his shoulder and lacking self preservation skills. 

It was his rage that caused tunnel vision. Which in turn caused sleep deprivation, which led to more injuries. The cycle didn’t end there though, at least not recently. His tendency to prioritize his alter ego over his own health wasn’t something that could be solved by a simple nap these days. Not when he had people worrying about him, and when his efforts to meditate or find another outlet for his emotions remained futile. 

More injuries meant it was more difficult to hide them. A bullet wound in his stomach, a sprained ankle, these were more noticeable to his coworkers, to you. While you were eternally patient and understanding about his double life, his business partners were not. He tried his best to ignore Karen’s gasps and Foggy’s pointed stares every time he limped into the office or winced while pouring his coffee. Despite his efforts, it always aggravated him, fueling his rage and thus perpetuating the cycle further. 

This week, Foggy had snapped. Yelling at Matt for putting himself in danger, for jeopardizing their recent case—they’d had to postpone a meeting with the prosecution given the state of Matt’s face—and their firm. In return, Matt had lashed out. Screaming about the greater good and Foggy not trusting him. It quickly became an all out brawl, both men hurling insults at the other despite Karen warning them that they were going too far. But her intervention came too late. 

“You claim to be so worried about people leaving but I don’t see how that’s fucking possible when you try so hard to scare us off, Murdock. Guess what!? It’s working!” Foggy snapped, throwing his hands in the air with a huff. 

Logically, Matt knew Foggy didn’t mean that—at least not in the way Matt heard it—but his throat felt swollen anyway. His heart pounded, the argument sitting on his tongue dissolving as his mouth grew increasingly dry. Loosening his tie, Matt stalked to his office to gather his things. 

“You know what, I think I’ll work at home for a few days.” He spoke stiffly, throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder. 

“Matt,” Karen took a step towards him but he refuses to acknowledge her placating tone. 

“I’ll see you in court next week. I’ll drop off my opening argument tomorrow night.” Without waiting for their responses, he retreated to his apartment. 

With every step along the damp Manhattan sidewalk, his irritation grew. His brain was flickering back and forth between despair and indignation, his hands itching to hit something. Tonight would be productive, that much was clear. 

Though he usually waited until the late hours of the evening to go out as Daredevil, his argument with Foggy had ignited an impatient buzzing beneath his skin—his muscles clenching and anger bubbling until he caved to the Devil. It was risky, dashing from roof to roof in his suit at dusk, but his patience had worn out hours ago. 

The night felt endless, yet it was over far too soon. He raced through the streets, taking down thug after thug, until a serrated blade caught him off guard. With a jagged rip across his thigh, he made for his apartment—planning to crudely stitch the wound before finishing what he’d started. 

As he approached his loft, his ears locked on to a familiar heartbeat, its pattering mulling about his place as he grew closer. Foggy had sent in reinforcements, he supposed, though he wasn’t thrilled about it. 

Opening the rooftop door, Matt stomped down the stairs, hurling pieces of his suit across the space as he ripped them from his overheated body. Pretending not to care about the spike in your heartbeat, courtesy of his pounding steps, he tore the mask from his face, setting it beside the sink before filling a glass with water. 

Fidgeting with your sleeve, you approached him slowly, saying nothing as he downed a glass of lukewarm water before jutting his chin at you. 

“Say what you’re going to say, then leave.” His voice was harsh and deep, the Devil still fully in control. 

You inhaled slowly, not scared of his current state, but clearly unhappy all the same. “What makes you think I have something to say?” 

Matt bit back a scoff. “Foggy sent you, which means you’re on his side and are here to tell me off.” 

“On his side…Christ, Murdock.” You were a few paces in front of him, just behind the counter, your clothes rustling as you crossed your arms in frustration. 

“Why else would you be here?” Matt stormed around you and into his bathroom, unbuckling the bottom half to sew himself up. If anyone else had been here, he might have been more worried about modesty, but you’d seen him in more compromising positions than this over the years. 

Gritting your teeth as you trudged after him, your arms remained folded against your chest. “Because I care about you, asshole. Karen told me what Foggy said. I was worried.” 

Your heart thumped steadily with your honest admission, eliciting a pang of guilt deep in Matt’s subconscious. He remained silent, rubbing a damp cloth over his wound to clean it up before he attempted suturing it. At his lack of response, you scoffed, “Don’t know why I was so worried. You’re clearly taking it very well.” 

Spinning to face you, his lips curled. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means exactly what you think it means, Matt.” You snapped back at him, regretting it when his jaw twitched in response. Sighing, your voice softened. “You are so strong, and I know that Foggy and Karen give you a hard time but they’re not entirely wrong. It’s ok to ask for help.” 

“I don’t need their help.” Matt muttered, leaning against the cold porcelain sink in the bathroom. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” 

“No one is saying that you’re not.” You tried to reason, but he refused to listen. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what Foggy was saying, actually. How would you even know? It’s not like you were there.” He bit out, resentment prickling through his words. 

Ouch. He was right. You weren’t there. Because you’d taken a new job across the city. And he clearly was still not ok with that fact. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” You spoke gravely, brushing away a smudge of dirt on his cheek with your thumb. He tensed under your touch, but didn’t flinch away. “But you know that I don’t agree with what Fog said, right? Regardless of whether he meant it, it was wrong for him to imply—“

Shoving your hand from his face, his lips formed a scowl once again. “What? That it’s my fault? That people leave because I make them? Maybe he’s right.” 

“Matt, that’s not true. You know—“

“Don’t tell me what I know!” He roared pressing into your personal space, eyes blazing with fury. 

Breathing evenly, you shifted your weight away from him. Not flinching out of fear, just a natural reaction to his behavior, yet the movement still stung. Retreating from you, he picked up the cloth and refocused on the gash across his thigh. 

“Go home,” He spoke your name coldly. This wasn’t a question, it was an order. 

“Matt—“ You started but he glared at you. 

“Go.”

You nodded, pacing back into the living room to grab your purse from the couch. “Call me if you need anything, Matty. I’ll be around.” You spoke softly, your soft footsteps fading as you left his loft. 

Biting back an irritated snarl, Matt tread into the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey. Taking a full swig, he pushed his guilt and pain aside and picked up a needle. 

Burying your face in the collar of your jacket, you scrunched your nose as a particularly fierce gust of wind smacked you. Soldiering forward, you sped down the street towards the dimly lit building you were aiming for. 

It might be a mistake to return to Matt’s loft, but you couldn’t leave him there alone when he was so distraught. At least, not in good conscience. 

You respected his request for space, absolutely—taking time to return to your own apartment and retrieve his worn Columbia sweater, which you’d stolen a few weeks ago and simply not given back. It was soft and oversized, for you at least, making it ridiculously comfortable. But it was clear Matt needed that comfort more than you did right now. 

After tucking the garment in your bag carefully, you headed back out into the blustery evening to pick up a large order of food from Matt’s favorite Italian place. 

If he still didn’t want you there upon your return, so be it. But the man wouldn’t go cold or hungry on your watch, dammit. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him to take care of himself, you just recognized that self-preservation wasn’t a priority for him when he was…like this. Brooding. Angry. 

In the decade and a half you’d known him, you had started to piece together Matt’s various moods and this was a common one. His heightened senses igniting something inside him that pulled him into fights all around the city. You couldn’t imagine the pain he felt hearing innocent civilians in trouble constantly. But eventually, he’d stop restraining himself. Sleep less. Eat less. Go to work, go out as Daredevil, and do it all again the next day—even when he was a jumble of exhaustion and bruises. 

In these moments, he was no longer your beloved Matthew Murdock. He was a candle, with a burning wick and a torch at his base. The wax slowly melting away, until his sanity was nothing but a distant memory. 

This was something you’d seen a handful of times when working with him and Foggy, even back when you three were just interns at Landman and Zack. It was the thing about Matt that you and Foggy argued about most these days. 

See, Foggy believed the solution to these episodes was to remove Daredevil from the equation altogether. You couldn’t necessarily blame the blond for thinking that, given how Matt’s vigilante antics impacted his work and his ability to be a good friend. 

Despite understanding Foggy’s concerns, your faith in Matt didn’t hinge on his nighttime activities. These periods of great stress were a sign that Matt needed support. Not an indication that he was no longer able to lead a double life. 

While the average person might snap or cry when they were overwhelmed, Matt would force himself to take more on. You assumed this was a symptom of the manipulation he’d endured during his youth. 

Matt hadn’t disclosed much about his childhood mentor, but you knew that he’d been encouraged to work through periods of distress, simply bottling up his feelings in order to ensure productivity. Given that he’d never had those beliefs challenged until well into adulthood, it was second nature for him to add more to his plate until he couldn’t anymore—whether that was because someone forced him to rest, or he was literally comatose. 

He’d confessed to you once—on another night like tonight when he was so tired of fighting everyone that he caved to your questioning—that rest wasn’t something that came easily to him. It was almost an enemy, in his mind, preventing him from helping as many people as he could. Resting meant he was a failure, and failing meant people would leave. 

This conversation lived in the back of your mind every time the dark haired man frustrated you. Every sleepless night spent pulling your hair out while you waited for him to text you that he was alive, every morning spent patching him up in the conference room because the walk to work had pulled his stitches out. Each and every time Matt’s other identity impacted your life, you reminded yourself that, in his mind, he didn’t have a choice. 

This time was no different. 

Though it probably didn’t help that Foggy had insinuated that he was thinking of leaving Matt. Not when Matt’s subconscious was desperately trying to pretend his life was balanced to keep everyone happy. Which is why you allowed yourself to be more stubborn than usual this dreadful evening, worming your way back into Matt’s home so he knew that he wasn’t in danger of being alone. 

Removing one ungloved hand from the safety of your fleece lined pocket, you yanked open the door to the restaurant, smiling softly at the hostess as her eyes met yours. 

“I have an order for pick up?” Giving her your name, you curled both hands back into your pockets, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you waited, somewhat impatiently, for your food. 

After what felt like an hour, the hostess handed you two bags stacked with containers, grimacing apologetically. “Sorry about the wait!”

“Not a problem!” You shrugged, grabbing the bags. “Thank you!!”

Dashing around the crowd forming behind you, your feet carried you the few remaining blocks to Matt’s building. Treading up the stairs slowly, you panted, taking a moment to breathe before making it to his door. 

Here goes nothing. 

You bypassed waiting for Matt to open the door, instead choosing to knock gingerly and use your spare key to unlock the door. 

“Matty?” You called softly, receiving no answer. 

Inhaling deeply, hoping you weren’t about to irreparably damage your relationship with Matt, you stepped over the threshold and into his space. Shuffling around the corner at the end of the hallway, you peeked into the loft, scanning it for any indication of your overworked friend—but there was no sign of him. No obvious one, at least. 

As you blocked out the muffled sounds of the city that had managed to penetrate the walls of the loft, your ears picked up a hushed sound from somewhere in the kitchen. A rapid whooshing—like panting, or choking. 

Rushing around the counter, your eyes widened in shock as you found Matt curled against the dark wooden cabinets. He was seated, but hunched over his knees, his hands tightly wrapped around his shins to keep his body in the position as he rocked back and forth. There was a jaggedly stitched line along his thigh, surrounded by mottled skin and goosebumps. Given his lack of clothing—he was only wearing his boxers—and the frigid temperature in the room, the poor man was shaking violently. A combination of his harsh breathing and his low body temperature, you assumed. 

As your presence became more noticeable, Matt tilted his head up, chin wobbling, eyes frantic and shining. Calling your name shakily, his weak plea almost made your own eyes well up. 

Crouching before him, you set the bags in your grasp aside, opening your palms to him. “It’s me, sweetheart. I’m right here. What happened?”

“D-don’t know. Can’t breathe.” Matt choked around the words, leaning towards you as you scrambled closer. 

“Can I touch—“ You asked, hesitant to take any major steps without explicit permission. 

“Yes. Please,” He sobbed, collapsing against your chest as your arms opened. 

“It’s ok. You’re ok, sweet boy.” You rubbed a hand over his back in a circular motion, using your free hand to guide one of his palms to your chest. “Feel my breathing?” 

Matt nodded against your chest, nails digging into your shoulder blade as he tried to get his breathing under control. 

“That’s my guy. Doing so good for me, handsome.” You praised softly, tracing your hand up his back and into his hair in the way you knew he loved. “That’s it, nice even breaths.” 

Unwinding your body from its squatted position, you sat on the cold floor, spreading your legs to allow Matt to fall into your lap. Perched across your thighs, Matt’s slowly stopped heaving. He was still covered in goosebumps and bruises, but his probable panic attack had been avoided for now. 

“There we go. Good job, honey. Feel a bit better?” You scratched diligently at Matt’s scalp, his skull knocking against your fingers with a nod. 

“Yes. Thank you.” He murmured, hot breath hitting your collar bone, a contrast to his icy skin. 

“Ok, sweets. Are you cold?” 

Another nod, making your lips twitch with a tiny smile. “Yah, stupid question. Here, put this on.” 

Pulling your bag over to you, you yanked out the sweater and handed it to him, mourning the loss of contact as he sat up to slip it on. After his chest was covered, his brow furrowed, a hand coming up to trace the text on the front of the hoodie. “My sweatshirt?” 

Cupping his stubbled cheek, you stroked a thumb over his jaw. “I brought it back. Thought you might need it tonight. C’mon honey, why don’t we go lay down, hm?” 

Allowing Matt to crawl off your lap, you drew him from the floor as you stood, laying your arm around his waist and holding him upright as he hobbled to his room. Tumbling onto the mattress, he haphazardly threw his sheets over his bare legs, curling into fetal position. His body was stiff, as if he was clenching every muscle to prevent writhing in pain. Sitting next to his waist, you fussed with the covers, drawing them more tightly around his rigid form. 

“There, that’s better. Just close your eyes and—“ you attempted to encourage the weary man to rest but his small voice interrupted. 

“You came back.” Matt spoke lowly, blinking back a new wave of tears. “You came back when I told you to leave.” 

“Do you need me to go? That’s fine, Matty, I’ll just—“ 

“No!” His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. “Please don’t.” 

“Ok, sweet boy. I’ll stay here. As long as you want me to.” 

Matt nodded once, tears trailing down his face again. “You came back.” No longer talking to you, it seemed that he was trying to make himself believe that he was no longer alone. 

Sliding down to face him, you ran a hand over his arm, letting him murmur silently to himself until he spoke to you again.

“I don’t think they’ll ever be happy.” 

“Who won’t be happy, handsome?” You asked quietly, propping yourself up on an elbow to study his face as he answered. 

“Foggy and Karen. Maybe you too, I’m not sure.” His voice cracked, tears pouring down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Hey, hey,” You shushed, drawing him back into your chest. “Oh, Matty—“

“What am I supposed to do?” His hazel eyes reopened, revealing a hopelessness you were shocked to see. “I hear people screaming for help and I…I can’t just lay here doing nothing. I don’t know how. And I try to explain but no one understands. I don’t know what to do,” When he uttered your name this time, it was a desperate request—to confirm that you understood, that you wouldn’t hold his actions against him. 

“Oh, Matt, honey, I’m so sorry.” You rested your chin atop his head as he sobbed into your collarbone. “Sweetheart, you are so good at what you do. You’re a fucking hero. No one is mad about you choosing to use every ability you have to help people, we just worry about you, sweets, that’s all. And, I can’t speak for the others, but you shouldn’t have to worry about making me happy, ok? As long as you’re alive—“

“He’s going to leave me.” Ah. That’s where his mind was getting stuck. The words were broken, Matt’s voice strained beyond recognition as he voiced his fear. “He’s going to leave me like you did.”

A lump of emotion clogged your throat, tears wavering against your waterline. “Matt, you know I didn’t leave because of you, right?”

He shrugged against you, body still trembling as he cried. 

“Matty, I adore you. I loved working with you and seeing you every day, sweets. I just couldn’t live on pies and hand-knit gloves in one of the most expensive cities in the country. I needed income, not an escape. I’m still here. I’m still yours.” 

Heaving out a shaky breath, Matt nodded. Caressing his cheek, you asked. “What did my heartbeat tell you?”

“Truth.” He whispered. The two of you sat in silence, your hand absentmindedly running through his mussed hair as his body stopped shaking. Just when you thought the fear of abandonment had been swayed for the night, he piped up one last time. 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“About Foggy?” You clarified, biting your lip when Matt nodded. With a sigh, you brought your fingers to his silky hair once again. “Matt, I am not psychic, I don’t know what the future will look like for the two of you, but I know that Foggy loves you. So does Karen, and so do I. And you don’t leave the people you love. You talk it out, you forgive them for their mistakes.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Matt whimpered. 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that. But I’ll be right here with you through it all, ok?” Pressing your lips to his forehead, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his face. “I don’t want to scare you, sweet boy, but I have to go into your kitchen for a moment. I brought some food with me that I’m going to put in your fridge for later. I’ll get you some water too. Anything else you need?” 

“Aspirin.” He murmured, blank eyes glossy with tears. 

“Of course, sweets. I’ll be right back.” With another brush of fingers over his scalp, you wriggled out from under him and hurried to the kitchen—shoving the food into his bare fridge while grabbing water and pills. 

He took the medicine you handed him diligently, his expression uncharacteristically blank. Draining the glass of water, he handed the empty cup to you without a word. You could see him slipping away into the recesses of his mind, trying to shove everything down once again, to handle it all himself. 

Sliding under the covers next to him, you wrapped him in a tight embrace as he buried his damp face in your neck. 

“Talk to me, sweets. What do you need?” 

“Just you.” Matt choked out, fisting your shirt in his hands as if worried you were imaginary. “Please.” 

“I’m right here. Always.” Kissing his crown, you ran a hand along his spine, humming softly as his breathing evened out. 

He wasn’t through the rough patch yet, but that was ok. You were going to be here regardless. And you’d tell him that every day until he believed you.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #my writing #matt murdock x you #charlie cox #marvel #matt murdock fanfic #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock my beloved #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #daredevil fanfic #daredevil mcu #daredevil fic #daredevil netflix #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #netflix daredevil #mm

[mostlysignssomeportents]

John Deere's repair fake-out

Last week, a seeming miracle came to pass: John Deere, the Big Ag monopolist that — along with Apple — has led the Axis of Evil that killed, delayed and sabotaged dozens of Right to Repair laws, sued for peace, announcing a Memorandum of Understanding with the American Farm Bureau Federation to make it easier for farmers to fix their own tractors:

https://www.fb.org/files/AFBF_John_Deere_MOU.pdf

This is a move that’s both badly needed and long overdue. Deere abuses copyright law to force farmers to pay for official repairs — even when the farmer does the repair. That’s possible thanks to a practice called VIN locking, in which engine parts come with DRM that prevents the tractor from recognizing them until they pay hundreds of dollars for a John Deere technician to come to their farm and type an unlock code into the tractor’s console:

https://doctorow.medium.com/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors-bc93f471b9c8

Like all DRM, VIN locks are covered by Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), a 1998 law that criminalizes distributing tools to bypass “access controls,” even if you do so for a lawful purpose (say, to fix your own tractor using a part you paid for). Violations of DMCA 1201 carry a penalty of 5 years in prison and a $500k fine — for a first offense.

This means that Deere owners are locked into using Deere for repairs, which also means that if Deere decides something isn’t broken, a farmer can’t get it fixed. This is very bad news indeed, because John Deere tractors are just computers in a fancy, mobile case, and John Deere is incredibly bad at digital security:

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

That’s scary stuff, because John Deere is a monopolist, and a successful attack on the always-connected, networked tractors and other equipment it supplies to the world’s farmers could endanger the global food supply.

Deere doesn’t want to make insecure tractors, but it also doesn’t want to be embarrassed by security researchers who point out that its security is defective. Because security researchers have to bypass Deere tractors’ locks to probe their security, Deere can leverage DMCA1201 into a veto over who gets to warn the public about the mistakes it made.

It’s not just security researchers that Deere gets to gag: the company uses its repair monopoly to threaten farmers who complain about its business practices, holding their million-dollar farm equipment hostage to their silence:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/31/dealers-choice/#be-a-shame-if-something-were-to-happen-to-it

This all adds up to what Jay Freeman calls “felony contempt of business model,” an abuse of copyright law that allows a monopolistic corporation to reach beyond its own walls and impose its will on it customers, critics and competitors:

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

If Deere was finally suing for peace in the Repair Wars, well, that was wonderful news indeed — as I said, a seeming miracle.

But — like all miracles — it was too good to be true.

The MOU that Deere and the Farm Bureau signed is full of poison pills, gotchas, fine-print and mendacity, as Lauren Goode documents in her Wired article, “Right-to-Repair Advocates Question John Deere’s New Promises”:

https://www.wired.com/story/right-to-repair-advocates-question-john-deeres-new-promises/

For starters, the MOU makes the Farm Bureau promise to end its advocacy for state Right to Repair bills, which would create a repair system governed by democratically accountable laws, not corporate fiat. Clearly, Deere has seen the writing on the wall, after the passage in 2002 of Right to Repair laws in New York and Colorado:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/06/when-drm-comes-your-wheelchair

These two bills broke the corporate anti-repair coalition’s winning streak, which saw dozens of state R2R bills defeated:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/26/nixing-the-fix/#r2r

Deere’s deal-with-the-devil is a cynical ploy to brake R2R’s momentum and ensure that any repairs are carried out on Deere’s terms. Now, about those terms…

Deere’s deal offers independent repair shops access to diagnostic tools and parts “on fair and reasonable terms,” a murky phrase that can mean whatever Deere decides it means. Crucially, the deal is silent on whether Deere will supply the tools needed to activate VIN locks, meaning that farmers will still be at Deere’s mercy when they effect their own repairs.

What’s more, the deal itself isn’t legally binding, and Deere can cancel it at any time. Once you dig past the headline, the Deere’s Damascene conversion to repair advocacy starts to look awfully superficial — and deceptive.

One person who wasn’t fooled is sick.codes, the hacker who has done the most important work on reverse-engineering Deere’s computer systems, culminating in last summer’s live, on-stage hack of a John Deere tractor at Defcon:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/15/deere-in-headlights/#doh-a-deere

Shortly after the announcement, Sick.codes tweeted how the fine-print in the MOU would have prevented him from doing the work he’s already done (including “a direct stab at me lol”):

https://twitter.com/sickcodes/status/1612484935495057409

As with other instances of monopolistic, corporate copyfraud — like, say, the deceptive Open Gaming License — the John Deere capitulation is really a bid to take away your rights, dressed up as a gift of more rights:

https://mostlysignssomeportents.tumblr.com/post/706163316598407168/good-riddance-to-the-open-gaming-license

[Image ID: Hieronymus Bosch's painting, 'The Conjurer.' The Conjuror's shell-game table holds a small John Deere tractor that the audience of yokels gawps at. One yokel is wearing a John Deere hat. The conjurer is holding a wrench.]

#pluralistic #copyfraud #right to repair #r2r #headfa #deerlife #john deere #tractors #big ag #licenses

[evilscientist3]

so do you actually support ai "art" or is that part of the evil bit :| because um. yikes.

Let me preface this by saying: I think the cutting edge of AI as we know it sucks shit. ChatGPT spews worthless, insipid garbage as a rule, and frequently provides enticingly fluent and thoroughly wrong outputs whenever any objective fact comes into play. Image generators produce over-rendered, uncanny slop that often falls to pieces under the lightest scrutiny. There is little that could convince me to use any AI tool currently on the market, and I am notably more hostile to AI than many people I know in real life in this respect.

That being said, these problems are not inherent to AI. In two years, or a decade, perhaps they will be our equals in producing writing and images. I know a philosopher who is of the belief that one day, AI will simply be better than us - smarter, funnier, more likeable in conversation - I am far from convinced of this myself, but let us hope, if such a case arises, they don't get better at ratfucking and warmongering too.

Many of the inherent problems posed by AI are philosophical in nature. Would a sufficiently advanced AI be appreciably different to a conscious entity? Can their outputs be described as art? These are questions whose mere axioms could themselves be argued over in PhD theses ad infinitum. I am not particularly interested in these, for to be so on top of the myriad demands of my work would either drive me mad or kill me outright. Fortunately, their fractally debatable nature means that no watertight argument could be given to them by you, either, so we may declare ourselves in happy, clueless agreement on these topics so long as you are willing to confront their unconfrontability.

Thus, I would prefer to turn to the current material issues encountered in the creation and use of AI. These, too, are not inherent to their use, but I will provide a more careful treatment of them than a simple supposition that they will evaporate in coming years.

I would consider the principal material issues surrounding AI to lie in the replacement of human labourers and wanton generation of garbage content it facilitates, and the ethics of training it on datasets collected without contributors' consent. In the first case, it is prudent to recall the understanding of Luddites held by Marx - he says, in Ch. 15 of Das Kapital: "It took both time and experience before workers learnt to distinguish between machinery and its employment by capital, and therefore to transfer their attacks from the material instruments of production to the form of society which utilises those instruments." The Industrial Revolution's novel forms of production and subsequent societal consequences has mirrored the majority of advances in production since. As then, the commercial application of the new technology must be understood to be a product of capital. To resist the technology itself on these grounds is to melt an iceberg's tip, treating the vestigial symptom of a vast syndrome. The replacement of labourers is with certainty a pressing issue that warrants action, but such action must be considered and strategic, rather than a reflexive reaction to something new. As is clear in hindsight for the technology of two centuries ago, mere impedance of technological progression is not for the better.

The second case is one I find deeply alarming - the degradation of written content's reliability threatens all knowledge, extending to my field. Already, several scientific papers have drawn outrage in being seen to pass peer review despite blatant inclusion of AI outputs. I would be tempted to, as a joke to myself more than others, begin this response with "Certainly. Here is how you could respond to this question:" so as to mirror these charlatans, would it not without a doubt enrage a great many who don't know better than to fall for such a trick. This issue, however, is one I believe to be ephemeral - so pressing is it, that a response must be formulated by those who value understanding. And so are responses being formulated - major online information sources, such as Wikipedia and its sister projects, have written or are writing rules on their use. The journals will, in time, scramble to save their reputations and dignities, and do so thoroughly - academics have professional standings to lose, so keeping them from using LLMs is as simple as threatening those. Perhaps nothing will be done for your average Google search result - though this is far from certain - but it has always been the conventional wisdom that more than one site ought to be consulted in a search for information.

The third is one I am torn on. My first instinct is to condemn the training of AI on material gathered without consent. However, this becomes more and more problematic with scrutiny. Arguments against this focusing on plagiarism or direct theft are pretty much bunk - statistical models don't really work like that. Personal control of one's data, meanwhile, is a commendable right, but is difficult to ensure without merely extending the argument made by the proponents of copyright, which is widely understood to be a disastrous construct that for the most part harms small artists. In this respect, then, it falls into the larger camp of problems primarily caused by the capital wielding the technology.

Let me finish this by posing a hypothetical. Suppose AI does, as my philosopher friend believes, become smarter and more creative than us in a few years or decades; suppose in addition it may be said through whatever means to be entirely unobjectionable, ethically or otherwise. Under these circumstances, would I then go to a robot to commission art of my fursona? The answer from me is a resounding no. My reasoning is simple - it wouldn't feel right. So long as the robot remains capable of effortlessly and passionlessly producing pictures, it would feel like cheating. Rationally explaining this deserves no effort - my reasoning would be motivated by the conclusion, rather than vice versa. It is simply my personal taste not to get art I don't feel is real. It is vitally important, however, that I not mistake this feeling as evidence of any true inferiority - to suppose that effortlessness or pasionlessness invalidate art is to stray back into the field of messy philosophical questions. I am allowed, as are you, to possess personal tastes separate from the quality of things.

Summary: I don't like AI. However, most of the problems with AI which aren't "it's bad" (likely to be fixed over time) or abstract philosophical questions (too debatable to be used to make a judgement) are material issues caused by capitalism, just as communists have been saying about every similarly disruptive new technology for over a century. Other issues can likely be fixed over time, as with quality. From a non-rational standpoint, I dislike the idea of using AI even separated from current issues, but I recognise, and encourage you to recognise, that this is not evidence of an actual inherent inferiority of AI in the abstract. You are allowed to have preferences that aren't hastily rationalised over.

#ask

[in1-nutshell]

I love your work and I was wondering if you could do the TFP autobots and deceptions reactions to a Spider- man/woman/person buddy. Either Romantic or platonic if possible :) have a nice day/night and remover to look after yourself ☺️

Thank you for the compliments! Compliments are very much apprenticed! the Cons section is a bit shorter, only because I feel like the Con's would try and kill Buddy on sight because of Arachnid. Lets see how the Bots and Cons fair with Spider Buddy with their powers and shenanigans.

Hope you enjoy!

Autobots and Decepticons reaction to Spider Buddy

SFW, platonic, some mentions of violence of Con's part but nothing graphic or detailed, Spider reader

TFP

Optimus Prime

Oh.

This is new. Buddy has to sit down with him so he can properly understand what is happening.

He is a bit unsettled by the webbing at first but comes to terms that it is a thing Buddy does and it becomes the new normal for him.

“Buddy, I know you enjoy swinging around the base. But if you can please refrain from webbing our frames?”--Optimus

“Got it Optimus!”—Buddy

Buddy demonstrated their ability to climb and stick to the walls by climbing and standing on the ceiling. He was just on edge and ready to catch them if they ever fell. But he is also amazed at Buddy’s powers.

He discovered their strength when Raf accidentally slipped a controller under the couch and Buddy casually lifted the couch with Miko and Jack on it with one hand and grabbed the remote and tossed it to Raf.

“Agent Fowler?”--Optimus

“Prime?”--Fowler

“Is it normal for a human to lift up a couch with other humans on it single handedly?”--Optimus

“Not if they have steroids. Why?”--Fowler

“…”--Optimus

Ratchet

Buddy nearly gave him a spark attack when they showed their power. To be fair Buddy was trying to explain them, but he wasn’t paying attention. So, they web one of his tools and hold it proudly above their head single handedly.

“You need this Ratchet?”--Buddy

“Thank—What! How are you doing that!?”--Ratchet

Ratchet nearly has the attack right there.

He gets very interested in the levels of dexterity and strength the webbings have. He won’t conduct any test on Buddy, not even if he had their permission. He does want to know everything he can about the webbing’s utilities.

“What else can you do with it?”--Ratchet

“Hmmm… Oh! I can shoot long distance web balls! Watch!”--Buddy

Buddy throws a random web ball behind their back.

THWAP!

“BBBBBBEEEEEPPPPPP! (PRIMUS! WHAT IS THIS STUFF! GET IT OFF ME!)--Bumblebee

 He also wants to know if there is any medical thing he should know about. He wants to know so he can be ready to help when they get hurt.

“You don’t need to be worried about that Ratchet. I have a fast-healing factor.”--Buddy

“Did I ask?”--Ratchet

“Well—”--Buddy

“No, I didn’t. I don’t care if your healing factor is faster than a speedster-on-speedster circuits. Now where are the bandages?”--Ratchet

Bumblebee

He remembers the comic hero that Buddy’s powers are slightly based off. He watches a lot of superhero media on TV with Raf and the kids. He is a fan of the powers.

Of course, he found about their webbing the hard way…

“BBBBBBEEEEEPPPPPP! (PRIMUS! WHAT IS THIS STUFF! GET IT OFF ME!)--Bumblebee

“Bee! Stop moving! I’m trying to help!”--Buddy

“BEEEP BEEEEEPP! (WHAT IS THIS!? DID THIS COME OUT OF YOU!?)--Bumblebee

Buddy has scared him multiple times. Buddy has the bad habit of swinging and landing on his shoulder. He does get used to it as time goes on.

He finds it cool that Buddy can pick up stuff that shouldn’t be possible for an average person to pick up.

He does worry about them overexerting themselves though, he always reminds Buddy to take some things easier.

“Pass me the couch.”--Buddy

“Bep. (No.)”--Bumblebee

Arcee

Flashbacks…

One of the longest to warm up to Buddy’s powers. She is fine with Buddy as a person. But their powers…they remind her too much of Arachnid.

Freaked out seeing the webs the first time.

“Jack! Why are you webbed up? Oh, Primus it was Arachnid! She’s here! Hold—”--Arcee

“Nah ‘Cee that was me.”--Buddy

“…What?”--Arcee

“You see Jack over here wanted to see how useful his dull knife in his Swiss army tool kit was. So, I gave him a challenge.”--Buddy

“Yeah. That’s my bad Arcee.”--Jack

“…”--Arcee

“…Arcee?”--Jack

“…I think I involuntarily gave her Vietnam flashbacks…”--Buddy

She does get used to it after some time.

She finds Buddy’s strength cool but doesn’t like to test it. Who knows where buddy’s limit is? What if they accidentally hit it, what would happen then? She doesn’t want to know.

“Hey Arcee, can you pass—”--Buddy

“I’m not passing you the couch.”--Arcee

Smokescreen

He thinks that Buddy’s powers are so cool!

Absolutely eggs them on to do more tricks.

“I’m going to jump!”--Buddy

“BEEP! (Don’t!)--Bumblebee

“Do a flip!”--Smokescreen

Definite instigator. He asks so many questions about Buddy’s powers that Buddy can’t keep up with all of them. So as a compromise Buddy set a limit for questions per day.

“Hey Buddy, how can—”--Smokescreen

“You used your last question 2 hours ago Smokey.”--Buddy

“But—”--Smokescreen

“Wait until tomorrow.”--Buddy

Definitely wants to know how much can Buddy carry. He can never get Buddy to do just enough because someone always comes in when things get interesting.

“Smokescreen have you seen Jackie? I’ve been—BUDDY!”--Bulkhead

“Hi Bulk! I haven’t seen Wheeljack—”--Smokescreen

“Forget that! Help Buddy!”--Bulkhead

“They’re fine. Right Buddy?”--Smokescreen

Buddy holding the couch, TV, and the kids with one hand giving a thumbs up.

Bulkhead

Oh, more flashback!

He doesn’t have good memories with Arachnid just like Arcee, but they aren’t as bad as hers.

He does find the webbing to be weird. Cool, but weird.

Buddy webbing a can of soda and drinking it.

“How did you get so good at catching it?”--Bulkhead

“Oh, I wasn’t always good. But I got better with time. It only took The Curling Iron incident for me to really get the hang of it.”--Buddy

“What incident?”--Bulkhead

“Not important.”—Buddy

He holds out about Buddy’s strength when he nearly fell on one of ratchet’s equipment again bit was stopped mid fall when Buddy webbed his back and was holding him steady.

“Hey Bulkhead, if you don’t mind, can you please get your footing right? This isn’t exactly the most comfortable position ever.”--Buddy

“HOW ARE YOU EVEN DOING THIS!”--Bulkhead

Wheeljack

This goes in the list of weird things Wheeljack has seen, but he likes this.

Like Ratchet, he becomes fascinated by the dexterity of the webbing. But also, on Buddy’s physical strength.

“So, you stopped Bulkhead from falling using these webs?”--Wheeljack

“Yep!”--Buddy

“Do you think it can hold Ultra Magnus down for 5 minutes?”--Wheeljack

“Hypothetically, yes? It should… why?”--Buddy

“… I think we both know…”—Wheeljack

He helps Buddy with their acrobatics. He is always hyper vigilant in case Buddy looks like they are going to get hurt.

“C’mon Jackie toss me higher!”--Buddy

“Any higher you’ll be eating the ceiling.”--Wheeljack

“Like I haven’t done that 27 times.”--Buddy

“…That’s oddly specific.”--Wheeljack

“Don’t question it.”--Buddy

Ultra Magnus

He is not prepared.

Like Optimus Buddy has to sit down with him to talk about their powers so he can fully understand. He understands for the most part. So now all that needs to happen is the demonstrations.

“These are my webbings.”--Buddy

“Interesting.”—Ultra Magnus

“I can do all sorts of things with them. For example, throw them.”--Buddy

Throws a web ball randomly behind them.

THWAP!

“BEEEEEEEPPP BEEEP BEEEEEPPP! (NOT AGAIN! BUDDY! HOW MANNY TIMES ARE YOU GOING TO DO THIS!)--Bumblebee

He finds out about Buddy’s strength the hard way. He had gotten in the crossfire of a game of lobbing and was falling backwards from the force of the ball. He is fully expected to land hard on the ground, but he doesn’t he is inches away from the floor.

“Hey Mags? As much as I would love to keep holding you, can you please get up?”--Buddy

“BY THE ALLSPARK HOW ARE YOU NOT DEAD!?”—Ultra Magnus

“I have no idea. Made it this far on pure accidents.”--Buddy

Megatron

He doesn’t like Buddy.

“Pest.”--Megatron

“Bucket head.”--Buddy

They remind him too much of the traitor Arachnid. He might send other bots to dispose of them. He lets go of that seeing as Buddy always comes back to the Nemesis.

They become the equivalent of an annoying stray that comes by your house at 3 am asking for food.

“Hmmm… its quiet... too quiet…”--Megatron

“Hey Bucket head! You had your daily dose of space meth!?”--Buddy

“For the last time! It’s called Dark Energon!”--Megatron

“All I hear is space meth!”—Buddy

Starscream

He really doesn’t like them.

“Insolent Fleshling.”--Starscream

“Whiney-wannabe-toddler.”--Buddy

Like many others, he is reminded of Arachnid, too much. He has tried to kill Buddy before, but Buddy is too fast and nimble for him. Buddy now has a grudge against him and purposely webs his pedes together at the most inconvenient times.

“Now! Rise my fellow Decepticons! Rise with the new age of Starscream the—”--Starscream

Wham!

“I hate that human so much…”--Starscream

Knockout and Breakdown

It was near death on sight.

“Hey! Hey! Calm down!”--Buddy

“Kill it!”--Breakdown

“Rude!”--Buddy

But after some explanation, the pair realize that Buddy is nothing like Arachnid. They have to sit down for another explanation on Buddy’s powers though. Buddy has made it their mission to protect their new friends from Arachnid.

The pair thinks it is a joke.

It’s not.

“I pushed the spider off of the ship.”--Buddy

“Oh, that’s nice.”--Knockout

Later.

“Knockout! I heard from some Vehicons that Arachnid fell off of the ship!”--Breakdown

Sudden realization

“Oh, boy…”—Knockout

Soundwave

Child. Must have child.

Buddy is now an honorary cassette after they webbed Arachnid and Starscream into a closet.

Soundwave looking at the loud closet. Walks away like nothing happened.

He doesn’t mind Buddy swinging around and their webbing, it’s just an organic thing they do. Yes, he sat down for Buddy to explain everything. He now has a file exclusively just for Buddy’s things. He is willing to protect his new friend against all Con threats on the Nemesis.

Buddy is his now.

“Operation: Buddy safety”

“Arachnid: Threat must be neutralized.”

Dreadwing

He doesn’t mind Buddy being there.

Sees Buddy swinging off a ledge.

“I question where my allegiances are sometimes…”--Dreadwing

He kind of ignores them while they are on the ship. He isn’t that rude though; he’ll acknowledge that they are there maybe a quick chat on what’s happening on the ship but that’s about it.

“I heard that Arachnid fell off of the ship a few days ago…”--Dreadwing

“Oh no, anyways…”—Buddy

He doesn’t bother Buddy; Buddy doesn’t bother him.

Win-win.

Shockwave

He doesn’t know that Buddy exists.

Why?

Because he doesn’t come out of his lab.

And, because Soundwave, Knockout and Breakdown don’t want him to meet Buddy.

“Why can’t I meet him again?”--Buddy

“I prefer our conversations to happen when you’re not getting dissected on a filthy table.”--Knockout

They firmly believe that Shockwave would dissect their friend in the name of science.

And that he would.

Predaking

He hasn’t had enough time to officially meet Buddy.

Mainly because Buddy is so small and Predaking doesn’t really acknowledge them. They are weak and frail like any other human.

Sees Buddy walking down the hall, turns around and walks away from the ‘filth’.

He does know that Buddy is an enemy to Starscream after witnessing Buddy web his pedes to the ground. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?

Maybe he would try and strike a conversation in the future.

Arachnid

As much as she loves another fellow spider.

She is going to hunt down Buddy.

Which is tough luck for her because Buddy always seems to know where she is at and at time used her own webs against her.

“When I get my servos on you—”--Arachnid

“You mean IF you get them on me, you evil robotic knockoff.” --Buddy

She is making it her goal to have Buddy’s head on a pike in her trophy room.

#transformers #transformers x reader #tfp x reader #maccadam #tfp x platonic reader