#i keep blocking people but they keep showing up .... why are you into any of these fandoms!!! stop!!!

[p-taryn-dactyl]

i bled for free, your wretched victory (1)

a/n: timeline? who's she, don't know her. i just wanted to get this idea out before i focused on my requests and WIPs lol, hopefully y'all like it! i might be beefing with marvel rn but my brain won't stop giving me ideas. also i apologize for how bad this is but it is something i want to post <3 word count: 1.3k warning(s): blood; injuries; i can't not put reader through hell sorry; really slow paced, sorry i want this to be a slowburn series prompt: when meeting a friend for coffee doesn't go to plan, you realize you've been caught up in a scheme much larger than you could ever have thought

Leaning against the wall, you listened to the footsteps behind you. Blood dripped in between your fingers as you clutched the wound at your side. The pain kept you focused, aware of your surroundings. You were tense as the footsteps passed you, the heavy falls of your attackers boots echoing through the hall. Sliding down the wall, you allowed yourself to breathe. Each breath sent shooting pain through your ribs, making you stifle your gasps with your fist. You couldn’t remember how you got here, how you went from the crowded streets of NYC to the cold sterile halls of this facility. All you remember was waiting for your friend Yelena, who you had met while serving drinks at a Christmas party, in a small cozy cafe. She wasn’t late, you were just early. You didn’t know if she ever showed up as your memory had gone blank. The gap filled with nothing opened in your memory to when you had woken up, surrounded by tubes, plastic and metal. 

“She couldn’t have gotten far, keep looking.” A male voice echoed down the hall, sending shivers down your spine and freezing you in your spot. His voice haunted your mind, fear lacing through your thoughts. You couldn’t remember why but this man was dangerous. Waiting until you couldn’t hear any words, footsteps, or even breaths, you stood up again, staggering slightly from the pain. Something told you to follow the path to your right, running was a struggle, every part of you fighting against the action. You left bloody footprints for your captors to follow but you wouldn’t let yourself think about that. A door was in front of you. A door busted wide open, the metal bent and contorted, slash marks surrounding the frame. You could’ve cried with relief. But before you could take a step outside, you felt something graze your thigh then searing pain followed. Some words were called out, a name that brought back the fear. You could feel people surrounding you from behind, slowly advancing like one would a wounded animal. 

“Now, let’s not be dramatic-” That voice. He was behind you. A burning smell filled your nostrils as you spun around, screaming and throwing your arms in front of you. The man and his men flew backwards, hitting the walls with sickening cracks. Turning back towards the door, you ran out, ignoring the feeling of rocks and broken branches piercing your feet. You clung to your side, your eyesight blurring at the edges as your blood stained your hand. It felt like centuries had passed before you saw a road, the happiness overlooking the fact that armored cars blocked it off. Panic clawed at your throat. How far did his reach go? How far would you have to run before you could escape this nightmare? You thought about staying where you were, letting your body become one with the woods but something in you pulled you to a part of the forest where you couldn’t see the cars or the militarized camp. You couldn’t see anything special, making you wonder if the blood loss was finally making you go crazy. But then you saw the static. Looking up, your eyes followed the glitches towards the sky. 

“Oh, I’m definitely going crazy.” You muttered to yourself, turning away from the wall of static, removing your hand from your side so you could hold your head in both hands, ignoring how you were getting blood on your face and in your hair. You sat on the ground in a slump, shaking your head as you continued to ignore your pain. 

“Hey! What are you doing? Get out of the way! Are you okay?” A loud shout caused you to jolt backwards, your back hitting the wall of static. Before you were pulled in, you saw a woman with glasses running toward you and a FBI agent following her, their eyes full of horror. 

—

Every part of your body cried out in pain, the feeling of being torn apart and being put back together adding to the disorientation. When it stopped, you found yourself in the middle of a road. Collapsing on your knees, you started to cry, no longer able to ignore the pain. It took a minute to realize the oddness of where you were. There was no color. Everything was black and white, like the reruns of shows you used to watch with your grandparents. But when you looked at your hands, you saw tendrils of color under your skin, weaving between your veins. Orange, pink, purple, glowed until it settled into the monochrome you found yourself in. A sense of danger lingered around you, furthering your tears. 

“What the hell is happening to me?” You cried out between sobs, struggling to once more stand. Looking around, it hit you that you had nowhere to go. You had no idea where you were, no idea how long it had been since your last clear memory, you had no idea if you were even in the same state. The air around you was quiet, eerily so. You convinced yourself to start walking, heading towards the first house you saw. It looked old, it’s architecture one that you normally would admire, but now it just added to the uneasy feeling in your stomach. You headed up towards the door, your head pounding, eyes blurry with pain as you felt like your body was finally about to give out. Before you could pass out, you raised your hand to the door and knocked as loud and hard as you could. The door opened surprisingly fast, causing you to stumble backwards a bit. The woman in front of you had a look on her face you couldn’t describe, the only thought in your mind being your pain. 

“Please,” you stuttered out, gasps of breath interrupting your words, “please help me, I don’t know what’s-” 

Before you could finish what you were saying, your mind gave into the pain. Everything went dark as you collapsed. The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes was a cloud of purple wrapping around you. 

—

Agatha felt the disturbance in the air before she heard the knocks on her door. She made her way up from her lair in the basement, her magic curling around her hands. It couldn’t be Wanda, she told herself, this felt like something else. Her magic sang as it felt power but quickly the excitement died down as she realized this wasn’t a magical power. This was something else, something she didn’t know. The loud knocking at her door shook her out of her confusion, but adding more to it. Surely Wanda couldn’t be making a storyline in her sleep, she couldn’t be that aware just yet. Agatha opened the door quickly, her eyes widening as she took in the image in front of her. A young woman stood barely holding herself together, blood staining her skin and matting her hair. She begged Agatha before falling to the ground, Agatha’s magic just barely catching her. Agatha brought the girl into the house, snapping her fingers bringing the two of them to the basement. Wanda wouldn’t be able to sense the disturbance here. Agatha watched as color came back to the girl's skin, gasping as tendrils of orange and pink mixed with her magic, working together to mend the injuries that riddled her skin. She knelt on the ground, pulling the young woman closer to her, watching as the wounds closed and healed. Agatha brushed her hand on the girl's face, magicking away the blood and tear tracks. A low humming noise filled the air, causing the witch to startle as she watched the runes protecting her basement thrum. They could sense the power but couldn’t contain it. Agatha’s eyes returned to the girl in her lap, running her hands through the tangled hair, an attempt to calm whatever storm she had brought into her home. 

“Who, or what, are you?” Agatha whispered, her mind racing for any explanation the Darkhold could give her. The book would’ve laughed in her face if it could, answerless as Agatha realized Westview was in more danger than she thought.

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #wanda maximoff #wandavision #wandavision fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader

[tiredfox64]

Okay, imagine that Johnny arrives at the Wu Shi Academy and meets reader, but they treat him in a very cold way and whenever he tries to talk to them, they avoid him. But it turns out that the reader is actually a big fan of Johnny (to the point they have a pet with his name 😭) and is very, very, very shy.

Hope my request isn't so silly 🙏

A Silly Little Crush

Prior notes: If this was considered silly I would be considered crazy. They would have put me in the loony bin a long time ago.

Pairing: Johnny Cage (MK1) x Gn reader

Warnings ‼️: I like the birds

Johnny has made many enemies just by being famous. They’re just jealous of his fame, skills, and looks. And also because he could be an occasional dick but that’s irrelevant.

What he doesn’t understand is how he gained your ire without you saying a word to him. Ever since he came to the Wu Shi academy you have been acting colder than a glacier. He’s tried talking to you on multiple occasions but you wouldn’t say a peep. You would turn away from him with your arms crossed and your eyes closed like you were trying to block him out.

You were someone who helped out the monks. Brought food, helped cook, attended to the gardens, keep the place in tip-top shape. You were very welcoming to the champions, except to Johnny. The first time you saw him you froze up, blinking slowly like a frog. Before he could even place his hand out to shake your hand you walked away from him. It confused everyone. Your demeanor switched so quickly. Maybe you just had a moment. A hormonal shift or mood swing. It happens to the best of us. He’ll catch you on another day.

Day after day came yet you avoided him like the plague. There was always a distance between you two. Any time he would make an effort to talk to you, you would give him a side eye and not say a word. He could make a joke and you wouldn’t laugh. He would criticize someone’s fighting style and you wouldn’t agree. The only other reaction he could get out of you was when you tried to prevent a smile. You would chew the inside of your cheek to prevent any and all reactions. If it got too much for you then you would walk away.

Forget trying to make you interested in his conversations. He would intentionally talk loudly to get your attention if you were nearby. No matter what, you kept doing your task without a break in your stride. You kept sweeping the leaves off the path or hanging up the towels they use after training to dry. It got so annoying that Kenshi had to yell at Johnny to tone down his volume already.

“Why won’t they pay attention to me? What did I do?” Johnny complained.

“Can you really not accept that some people don’t like you? Leave them be already. You’re probably giving them more reasons to hate you.” Kenshi was so over it.

Johnny sighed in defeat. He had to face the music. He’s never gonna get your attention or even admiration. He never had a chance. Maybe he is just a dick.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

The end of the day was the best time for you. Your work was done and you get to relax. But you also get the chance to let yourself be you. You quickly open your bedroom door, slip in, and lock the door.

“Woo, I’m back, Johnny.” You said in a cheerful tone.

Your severe macaw, whom you so lovingly named Johnny Cage, came flying at you before landing on your hand. You booped his beak as your strolled over to your bed.

“I got so many pictures of Johnny today. Let me show you.”

You open up your camera to show dozens upon dozens of photos you took of Johnny when he wasn’t looking. Some when he was training, some when he was eating, and some when he had his back turned towards you. In those instances, you would take a selfie with him in the background. You were always worried he would turn around while you were positioning yourself into the frame but you were lucky every time. He never caught on, and he hopefully never will.

If he found out you might actually die.

You’re happy to have him at a distance and be sneaky with your secret love for Johnny. You will appreciate every poster that he signed that your friends gifted you. You’re fine with watching his movies on your own. You’ll love him at a distance. It’s all you can do considering you’re worried about actually interacting with him.

You wish you could though. It’s hard for you. The reason you froze up the first time was because you were in such shock. You never imagined you would meet your favorite actor ever. But there he was standing in front of you. Not just that but he would be in close proximity for months! Freaking months! You walked away so you could tell all your friends what just happened, saying it in a whispering scream.

Every time Johnny came up to talk to you, you practically wanted to jump into his arms and shout how he was your favorite. Yell and shout about how he was an amazing actor and that every one of his movies is your favorite. But that’s not who you are. Speaking up is hard for you and even making an attempt to talk to Johnny felt like pulling a trigger. You wanted to laugh at his jokes but you were scared about embarrassing yourself. You don’t even have a weird laugh.

That’s enough beating yourself up for the night. You need your rest. You put your macaw on his perch and got yourself ready for bed. You laid in bed with your phone in your hand, scrolling through your album of Johnny photos. You start to succumb to your exhaustion and pass out soon after.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Hm, Johnny hasn’t seen you yet today. Usually you were up and helping to make breakfast for everyone. You were nowhere in sight. Strange.

What’s even stranger is when he was served his breakfast, his oatmeal didn’t have the usual smiley face made from fresh cut fruit. That threw everyone off.

“Woah, who did you piss off? Looks like someone didn’t feel like making you happy this morning.” Kung Lao pointed out.

This was unusual. First, you’re not around, now he doesn’t even get a pleasant breakfast. This just sucks. Johnny started to hear some of the monks talk about not seeing you this morning either. They found it strange since you are always up and running.

Johnny needed to get to the bottom of this. He played a detective on TV he can play a detective in real life. After breakfast he started looking around for your room. He asked some of the other monks where your bedroom was and they pointed him in the right direction. When he got to your room he began knocking, quietly at first before getting louder. The noise ended up spooking your macaw who started squawking like crazy. He woke you up with his loud bird mouth. You groaned as you sat up and looked down at your phone. By the gods, it was ten in the morning! You overslept! Now who will put a smiley face on Johnny’s breakfast?!

The door creaked open when Johnny began to open it. He had no clue what was up but when he looked inside he was shocked. Posters of his movies on your walls, autographs that were on your tableside, and magazines with him on the cover that were scattered all over the floor. This was…unexpected. Your macaw went flying towards Johnny, perching himself on his shoulder. This surprised Johnny but what was even more surprising was when your macaw placed his beak against Johnny’s forehead and made a kissing sound. You don’t know how he learned to do that. Maybe he learned to do that from watching you kissing your photos of Johnny. Oh what a mystery.

You were frozen in place once again. You didn’t know how to explain yourself. I don’t think anyone would know what to do. The only explanation that was reasonable was that…omg you do like him. You’ve liked him the whole time.

Johnny’s face went from a confused and surprised expression to one of pure joy. He was ecstatic to see all the merch you have of his. You even had posters of his box office failures! He’s not proud of them but to see you had them up showed how huge of a fan you are.

“You sly dog. You’ve liked me the whole time! You really made me think you hated me.” He felt so silly thinking anyone could hate him. You clearly don’t.

At that moment a message popped up on your phone, showing a picture of Johnny as your background. You both looked down and when you looked back up at him he had this mischievous smirk on his face. A phone hides many secrets. He wants to explore more of those secrets.

“Oh, what do we have in there? I bet you have some pictures of me.” He teased.

Yeah there were some…dozens of pictures in your phone that he does NOT need to know about. You snatched your phone away before he could get his hands on it. So that’s how you want to play, huh? Johnny doesn’t mind getting the answers the hard way. He crept towards you which made you leap out of bed. The chase was on. He started bolting for you, laughing at this amazing discovery he had made. You were running past all the monks and the other champions with Johnny hot on your trail. It was chaos at the academy with you and Johnny playing a game of cat and mouse and your macaw squawking like crazy from the madness. One of the monks yelled something in annoyance.

“Please silence Johnny already. We have discussed his squawking problem.”

“And you named your bird after me?! This is so awesome!”

Johnny seems pretty pumped about this new discovery. The remaining months he has to stay at the academy are gonna be a blast. It will be a blast for you but will also be an embarrassing torment.

After notes: I'm sorry if this isn't correct. I feel like I made this too obsessive or stalkerish. I did find the idea cute though. For some reason Johnny reminds me of Squakabilly from Pokémon (the green one to be more specific) so that's why I made the pet a macaw. I should lie down now. Adiós!

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mk x reader #mk x you #mk fanfic #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x you #johnny cage #johnny cage mk1 #johnny cage mortal kombat #mortal kombat johnny cage #mk1 johnny cage

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

it's hard to imagine that if they actually dated she would be posting bts content from 2020 to prove it. like she would have to have something she took herself. she has been stoking these rumors for years and she has yet to show something that proves they have ever even met irl. i hope the rumor that he moved out before enlisting is true because this is getting old.

"she has been stoking these rumors for years and she has yet to show something that proves they have ever even met irl." Exactly, yeah.

There was someone yesterday or the day before who sent an ask arguing in favor of every story she posted the other day and how she couldn't have possibly gotten those from anywhere else when she very much could've. All I'm gonna say is people have literally worn Jimin's fake love outfits because somehow fans got a hold of it, and someone was able to get his mail from BTS own home. Also, when that guy posted the heart jikook photo and some other Jimin photo from Japan in like 2018/2019, everyone immediately and unanimously agreed that he couldn't possibly be their friend anymore because if he was he wouldn't have posted those photos. And I agreed with that because I've also seen how Jimin seems to handle his personal relationships and to keep their exposure to a minimum. We don't even see social media posts with sungwoon or saeon who are also somewhat public figures.

But I really don't care about "debunking" any of it, I think the back and forth between "this is legit proof" and "that isn't legit proof" is stupid and annoying.

I've been told before stuff like why do you get so defensive about it but it's not defensiveness. It's annoyance because I really seriously geniunely don't care if it's real or not, and it's annoying that people want me so bad to care. Like why does it matter??? I don't have that parasocial of a relationship with Jimin, but have those anons stopped to think they might have a parasocial relationship with ME? Because I really can't understand why they want me to care so bad.

Last December, I was on holidays right, and I sleep with my phone next to my bed and the phone vibrated like three or four times in a row and it woke me up (I have really light sleep). I checked it and it was just before 7am and the phone had been vibrating because of tumblr notifications. I opened them and it was I SWEAR like 3 or 4 messages recounting every single instagram story the actress had ever posted or some shit. I blocked that anon immediately. Nothing had even happen!!!! That person just felt like obsessing over this woman's instagram and that was it. So they had to come and give me all their "proof" and accusing me for not believing in it.

I've also realized how much ammo she gets by doing these slight, sneaky """reveals""" because it's actually what gets people talking more than they would if she just posted a photo of Jimin sitting on the toilet. People post her stories, then go check them, then check her comments, a couple of hours later they check to see if she's deleted them, etc etc. All while others on twitter were sharing the stories left and right and comparing it with the bangtan bomb and trying to decipher if it was really Jimin behind that flower emoji.

So, yeah that's really it. Also not directed to you, but to some other people. Don't ask me or expect me to care... I might've cared years ago when I still believed Jimin and Jungkook were a thing but I've been saying more like two years already that they're not fucking each other, so there's literally no reason at all for Jimin dating to ever affect me. And even when I did believe they were fooling around, I never ever said "they're totally in a committed exclusive real relationship and have been married since 2015" because I've never believed that.

I've been a fan of Harry Styles since I was 15 years old and it has never bothered me to see him making out in public with the whole lineup of Victoria Secret's models because I've just never been that person. So even if it wasn't the reaction people expected me to have, you're just gonna have to believe me when I say Jimin dating rumours do not bother me.

Lastly and I really doubt I'll be addressing this topic again unless something really significant happens, there really isn't necessary "proof" for me to take this seriously. I just don't have enough information to believe in this rumour and that's just it. I'm not going to be thinking harder and trying to connect barely-there dots for someone else. If there is something there, or there was at some point in the past, I'm gonna need taennie level of proof.

[lizzibennet]

hey besties i remade my bton twitter cause the tl was driving me insane and made me have lust for murder. if u like bridgerton and aren’t insufferable follow me <3 bye

#will i follow like 15 people only? yes i absolutely will. #but at least i will like the 15 people i follow lol #it was the edwina hate besties </3 couldn't deal #even when i blocked ppl it appeared on the tl bc the ppl i followed liked the tweets #so imma just follow people who like her or like. are normal about disliking her #not many people doing either tbh lmfao #it's funny the other day i got a couple rude messages about it (guess my blog was being passed around cause i got a couple blocks too lol) #and one said like no one is under any obligation to like edwina #and i was like ? obviously ??? i follow a bunch of people who aren't fans of her #she is unpopular. if i expected everyone to LOVE her i wouldn't follow anyone LMAO #i do expect people to be normal about disliking her and so many people seem to be unable to though lol #it's the VITRIOL. the CONSTANT hatred #bruh you know you can just like. ignore her existence. you talk about the character you hate more than the ones you like!!!! #that's just not normal behavior sorry to say #i wish i'd screenshotted the messages before deleting lol they were so needlessly horrible #if u wonder why i still bother. so do i #kidding. i do love the show and like the fanfics and kathony and benophie #i think i'm just not cut for the fandom tbh #anyway. the twt is so i can keep up with news #bridgertonposting shall continue here mostly. probably idk #sorry for the tag bible <3 i was genuinely upset over the messages the other day and then i was like wait. i literally have better things to #be doing w my life LMAO #it's just me and linette against the world </3

[warpolomewdarkmatter]

also russians dni & ідітє нахуй

#i keep blocking people but they keep showing up .... why are you into any of these fandoms!!! stop!!! #origpost #edit just to clarify if i find some russian language/culture/life etc on your blog before i find a mention of ukraine #youre getting blocked 🫵

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Kickstarting a book to end enshittification, because Amazon will not carry it

My next book is The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation: it’s a Big Tech disassembly manual that explains how to disenshittify the web and bring back the old good internet. The hardcover comes from Verso on Sept 5, but the audiobook comes from me — because Amazon refuses to sell my audio:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

Amazon owns Audible, the monopoly audiobook platform that controls >90% of the audio market. They require mandatory DRM for every book sold, locking those books forever to Amazon’s monopoly platform. If you break up with Amazon, you have to throw away your entire audiobook library.

That’s a hell of a lot of leverage to hand to any company, let alone a rapacious monopoly that ran a program targeting small publishers called “Project Gazelle,” where execs were ordered to attack indie publishers “the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle”:

https://www.businessinsider.com/sadistic-amazon-treated-book-sellers-the-way-a-cheetah-would-pursue-a-sickly-gazelle-2013-10

[Image ID: Journalist and novelist Doctorow (Red Team Blues) details a plan for how to break up Big Tech in this impassioned and perceptive manifesto….Doctorow’s sense of urgency is contagious -Publishers Weekly]

I won’t sell my work with DRM, because DRM is key to the enshittification of the internet. Enshittification is why the old, good internet died and became “five giant websites filled with screenshots of the other four” (h/t Tom Eastman). When a tech company can lock in its users and suppliers, it can drain value from both sides, using DRM and other lock-in gimmicks to keep their business even as they grow ever more miserable on the platform.

Here is how platforms die: first, they are good to their users; then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers; finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

[Image ID: A brilliant barn burner of a book. Cory is one of the sharpest tech critics, and he shows with fierce clarity how our computational future could be otherwise -Kate Crawford, author of The Atlas of AI”]

The Internet Con isn’t just an analysis of where enshittification comes from: it’s a detailed, shovel-ready policy prescription for halting enshittification, throwing it into reverse and bringing back the old, good internet.

How do we do that? With interoperability: the ability to plug new technology into those crapulent, decaying platform. Interop lets you choose which parts of the service you want and block the parts you don’t (think of how an adblocker lets you take the take-it-or-leave “offer” from a website and reply with “How about nah?”):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

But interop isn’t just about making platforms less terrible — it’s an explosive charge that demolishes walled gardens. With interop, you can leave a social media service, but keep talking to the people who stay. With interop, you can leave your mobile platform, but bring your apps and media with you to a rival’s service. With interop, you can break up with Amazon, and still keep your audiobooks.

So, if interop is so great, why isn’t it everywhere?

Well, it used to be. Interop is how Microsoft became the dominant operating system:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

[Image ID: Nobody gets the internet-both the nuts and bolts that make it hum and the laws that shaped it into the mess it is-quite like Cory, and no one’s better qualified to deliver us a user manual for fixing it. That’s The Internet Con: a rousing, imaginative, and accessible treatise for correcting our curdled online world. If you care about the internet, get ready to dedicate yourself to making interoperability a reality. -Brian Merchant, author of Blood in the Machine]

It’s how Apple saved itself from Microsoft’s vicious campaign to destroy it:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

Every tech giant used interop to grow, and then every tech giant promptly turned around and attacked interoperators. Every pirate wants to be an admiral. When Big Tech did it, that was progress; when you do it back to Big Tech, that’s piracy. The tech giants used their monopoly power to make interop without permission illegal, creating a kind of “felony contempt of business model” (h/t Jay Freeman).

The Internet Con describes how this came to pass, but, more importantly, it tells us how to fix it. It lays out how we can combine different kinds of interop requirements (like the EU’s Digital Markets Act and Massachusetts’s Right to Repair law) with protections for reverse-engineering and other guerrilla tactics to create a system that is strong without being brittle, hard to cheat on and easy to enforce.

What’s more, this book explains how to get these policies: what existing legislative, regulatory and judicial powers can be invoked to make them a reality. Because we are living through the Great Enshittification, and crises erupt every ten seconds, and when those crises occur, the “good ideas lying around” can move from the fringes to the center in an eyeblink:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/12/only-a-crisis/#lets-gooooo

[Image ID: Thoughtfully written and patiently presented, The Internet Con explains how the promise of a free and open internet was lost to predatory business practices and the rush to commodify every aspect of our lives. An essential read for anyone that wants to understand how we lost control of our digital spaces and infrastructure to Silicon Valley’s tech giants, and how we can start fighting to get it back. -Tim Maughan, author of INFINITE DETAIL]

After all, we’ve known Big Tech was rotten for years, but we had no idea what to do about it. Every time a Big Tech colossus did something ghastly to millions or billions of people, we tried to fix the tech company. There’s no fixing the tech companies. They need to burn. The way to make users safe from Big Tech predators isn’t to make those predators behave better — it’s to evacuate those users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

I’ve been campaigning for human rights in the digital world for more than 20 years; I’ve been EFF’s European Director, representing the public interest at the EU, the UN, Westminster, Ottawa and DC. This is the subject I’ve devoted my life to, and I live my principles. I won’t let my books be sold with DRM, which means that Audible won’t carry my audiobooks. My agent tells me that this decision has cost me enough money to pay off my mortgage and put my kid through college. That’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means that my books aren’t enshittification bait.

But not selling on Audible has another cost, one that’s more important to me: a lot of readers prefer audiobooks and 9 out of 10 of those readers start and end their searches on Audible. When they don’t find an author there, they assume no audiobook exists, period. It got so bad I put up an audiobook on Amazon — me, reading an essay, explaining how Audible rips off writers and readers. It’s called “Why None of My Audiobooks Are For Sale on Audible”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

[Image ID: Doctorow has been thinking longer and smarter than anyone else I know about how we create and exchange value in a digital age. -Douglas Rushkoff, author of Present Shock]

To get my audiobooks into readers’ ears, I pre-sell them on Kickstarter. This has been wildly successful, both financially and as a means of getting other prominent authors to break up with Amazon and use crowdfunding to fill the gap. Writers like Brandon Sanderson are doing heroic work, smashing Amazon’s monopoly:

https://www.brandonsanderson.com/guest-editorial-cory-doctorow-is-a-bestselling-author-but-audible-wont-carry-his-audiobooks/

And to be frank, I love audiobooks, too. I swim every day as physio for a chronic pain condition, and I listen to 2–3 books/month on my underwater MP3 player, disappearing into an imaginary world as I scull back and forth in my public pool. I’m able to get those audiobooks on my MP3 player thanks to Libro.fm, a DRM-free store that supports indie booksellers all over the world:

https://blog.libro.fm/a-qa-with-mark-pearson-libro-fm-ceo-and-co-founder/

Producing my own audiobooks has been a dream. Working with Skyboat Media, I’ve gotten narrators like @wilwheaton​, Amber Benson, @neil-gaiman​ and Stefan Rudnicki for my work:

https://craphound.com/shop/

[Image ID: “This book is the instruction manual Big Tech doesn’t want you to read. It deconstructs their crummy products, undemocratic business models, rigged legal regimes, and lies. Crack this book and help build something better. -Astra Taylor, author of Democracy May Not Exist, but We’ll Miss It When Its Gone”]

But for this title, I decided that I would read it myself. After all, I’ve been podcasting since 2006, reading my own work aloud every week or so, even as I traveled the world and gave thousands of speeches about the subject of this book. I was excited (and a little trepedatious) at the prospect, but how could I pass up a chance to work with director Gabrielle de Cuir, who has directed everyone from Anne Hathaway to LeVar Burton to Eric Idle?

Reader, I fucking nailed it. I went back to those daily recordings fully prepared to hate them, but they were good — even great (especially after my engineer John Taylor Williams mastered them). Listen for yourself!

https://archive.org/details/cory_doctorow_internet_con_chapter_01

I hope you’ll consider backing this Kickstarter. If you’ve ever read my free, open access, CC-licensed blog posts and novels, or listened to my podcasts, or come to one of my talks and wished there was a way to say thank you, this is it. These crowdfunders make my DRM-free publishing program viable, even as audiobooks grow more central to a writer’s income and even as a single company takes over nearly the entire audiobook market.

Backers can choose from the DRM-free audiobook, DRM-free ebook (EPUB and MOBI) and a hardcover — including a signed, personalized option, fulfilled through the great LA indie bookstore Book Soup:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

What’s more, these ebooks and audiobooks are unlike any you’ll get anywhere else because they are sold without any terms of service or license agreements. As has been the case since time immemorial, when you buy these books, they’re yours, and you are allowed to do anything with them that copyright law permits — give them away, lend them to friends, or simply read them with any technology you choose.

As with my previous Kickstarters, backers can get their audiobooks delivered with an app (from libro.fm) or as a folder of MP3s. That helps people who struggle with “sideloading,” a process that Apple and Google have made progressively harder, even as they force audiobook and ebook sellers to hand over a 30% app tax on every dollar they make:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/red-team-blues-another-audiobook-that-amazon-wont-sell/posts/3788112

Enshittification is rotting every layer of the tech stack: mobile, payments, hosting, social, delivery, playback. Every tech company is pulling the rug out from under us, using the chokepoints they built between audiences and speakers, artists and fans, to pick all of our pockets.

The Internet Con isn’t just a lament for the internet we lost — it’s a plan to get it back. I hope you’ll get a copy and share it with the people you love, even as the tech platforms choke off your communities to pad their quarterly numbers.

Next weekend (Aug 4-6), I'll be in Austin for Armadillocon, a science fiction convention, where I'm the Guest of Honor:

https://armadillocon.org/d45/

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/31/seize-the-means-of-computation/#the-internet-con

[Image ID: My forthcoming book 'The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation' in various editions: Verso hardcover, audiobook displayed on a phone, and ebook displayed on an e-ink reader.]

#pluralistic #trustbusting #big tech #gift guide #kickstarter #the internet con #books #audiobooks #enshitiffication #disenshittification #crowdfunders #seize the means of computation #audible #amazon #verso

[bucketofpaint]

Danny is Damian's clone.

He's well aware of it. He wasn't just any clone. He was the very first. That was the difference between Danny and other clones. He was made before the League started using brainwashing and stuff into their cloning process.

When Danny was fresh out of the tube, the League had sat him down and explained his the purpose of his existence, gave him some intense training, and immediately tossed him out into the world.

But the thing was, he just didn't care. He had absolutely no loyalty to his creators, and he had no desire to kill/kidnap his original. So he just started walking. The next thing he knew, he was at some orphanage in Illinois.

And then the rest was history. He got adopted by a pair of enthusiastic scientists and their red-head daughter, got his own name, and he could finally start living his own life.

Danny had put the past behind him and had barely even thought about it at all for a long time. That was unill his original showed up at his school.

----------------

Damien was annoyed. He was stuck at some random Illinois town (supposed to be the most haunted place in the world, which was a bunch of ludicrous.) On a transfer program. He tried convincing Father how illogical it would be, but Father had told him it would be good for him to meet new people.

___

Danny was annoyed.

"I don't understand what the big deal about him is anyways," Danny complained.

"He started being the ceo of Wayne Enterprise when he was a teenager." Sam countered.

"Ok, so, nepotism."

Sam rolled her eyes. "I still don't understand why you're so against him."

"One, billionaire. Two, Tucker is way cooler than Tim Drake.

Sam's eyes soften. " Tucker is just gone for a few weeks."

Danny's cheeks felt warm. "I never said anything about that. I just want Tucker to find a cooler role model, is all.

Sam gave him an all-knowing look. "Well, if you say so. I'm going to get in line."

Sam, all ways waited last to get in the lunch line. Claiming she didn't want to hold up line when the lunch ladies had to get the vegetarian option. Which was fine, but now that Tucker was doing the dumb transfer student program, all he could do was eat his mediocre lunch and mindlessly play on his phone.

Untill someone grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the cafeteria into the hallway. Danny turned around to face the person. He froze at the sight of his own face. Or well, a glaring rich kid version.

"Oh, it's you." Danny said nonchalant, even though he was screaming inside.

"You're not going to play dumb, clone?"

"No, why would I, The resemblance is uncanny.

"What are you doing here?" His original demanded

"You dragged me here."

His original scowled. "You know what I mean, clone. I won't hesitate to end you."

"Just trying to go to school, honest."

Original glared at him, scanning him with his eyes. The grip on Danny's arm loosened. " I'll be watching you, clone."

" Whatever you say, template."

Danny walked back to the cafeteria, blocking out the yells of rage behind him.

___

It was about a week of Damian watching his clone, and he was confused. At first, he thought the league sent the clone to trade places with him before he went back to Gotham, but now he wasn't sure. The Clone seemed to fit in the community to well to have show up recently, but that didn't disprove the theory entirely. It could be a long-term plan from the League. They could be responsible for putting the transfer program in place in the first place.

The other theory was that the clone escaped and made a life for himself, but that didn't explain how he got past his programming.

After the last period, Damian found his clone and pulled him aside.

"What do you want?" His clone asked, irritated.

"You're different then other clones, explain."

"I don't know. I didn't really stick around very long to find out."

"What about your programming?"

"I didn't have any?"

Damian thought about it before giving a small nod. "You don't seem to be a threat, but I'll still keep my eye on you, clone."

"I've got a name, you know." He held out his hand. "Danny Fenton, nice to make your acquaintance."

Damian heistently shook his hand. "Damian Wayne."

That started their unsaid agreement. You don't mess with me, I don’t mess with you. They interacted with each other sometimes, but not very offen. They were impartial to one another, and both sides weren't very keen on getting to know each other. And that was their relationship till the day Damian was leaving.

Damian was waiting for the bus when Danny approached him.

"What do you want, Daniel?"

"I told not to call me that, but uh, here." Danny handed a piece of paper to him. "It's my phone number if you ever need help from the League or anything."

Damian slipped the paper into his pocket. "Give me your phone." Danny handed over his phone, and Damian started typing.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked.

"I'm putting my number in. If you ever require assistance."

Danny smiled, "Thanks."

____

A few months later.

Tim was peeking over a corner.

"What are you doing?" Dick asked.

Tim didn't say anything and just waved him over. He walked over and stared in aw at what he saw. Damian was slouched on the couch, his hair messy, playing on his phone.

A few minutes later, Jason joined.

"Am I hallucinating?" Tim whispered.

"Nah, I don't think so... unless we're all hallucinating." Jason whispered back.

"Do you think he has brain damage or been possessed or something?" Tim asked.

Dick shook his head. "That seems unlikely."

"This is so trippy. I've never seen him wear anything that casually like ever.

"What are you imbeciles doing?"

"We're watching Damian."

All three of them froze and turned to look at a glaring Damian.

Damian walked past them and went right up to the second Damian.

"Daniel, what are you doing here?"

The causal Damian 'Daniel' pulled out a letter. "Your pops invited me, and I didn’t want to risk the chance of batman showing up at my front door."

Damian scoffed, "Of course, Father found out."

Alfred walked in. "Master Daniel, I'll be taking you to Master Bruce."

The double got up and went to Alfred.

"Cookie, Master Daniel?"

"Sure, and call me danny."

#dp x dc #dc x dp #danny is a clone

[walks-the-ages]

Gaia Thomas G0fundme Scam Update - 3/05/2024 (March 5th, 2024) !

As of 8 hours previously of the creation of this post on March 5th, 2024, Gaia Thomas posted updates on three of the G0fundmes that she had organized, announcing her bank had caught a scam, which is (supposedly) , why she had halted donations on various g0fundmes, and withdrawn thousands and thousands of dollars from the g0fundmes in question:

Dear donors, I was the victim of an online scam. My credit union caught the scam. In the interests of donor safety, I blocked donations at that time. The evidence is in the hands of the Alameda Police Department. Please be aware that this could happen to you. All funds have been repaid in the form of donations to the original fundraiser as requested by the GoFundMe team. I have asked G0FundMe to return the funds to the hands of the original donors. Sincerely, Gaia Thomas

Attatched to the 3/5/2024 update was the following screenshot:

[ID begins: A screenshot from an email, from G0FundMe Trust and Safety team that reads: Hello Helen, Thank you for letting us know. We want to make this process as easy as possible, due to the circumstance, so we can refund donors and close the fundraisers. Can you let me know when you will be able to return the withdrawn amounts? Before we issue refunds, we can help you post an update to donors so they are aware of why they are being refunded. You can donate the withdrawn amounts so we can refund all donors for all three fundraisers: Donate $17,978 to return to the withdrawn amount to this fundraiser using this link [ https://www.gofundme.com/f/hope-in-the-crisis-aid-for-mai-and-her-family/donate ] Donate $5,108 to return the withdrawn amount to this fundraiser using this link [ https://www.gofundme.com/f/save-the-life-of-kareem/donate ] Donate $96.50 to return the withdrawn amount to this fundraiser using this link: [ https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-a-family-rebuild-fundraiser-for-noor-eleyan/donate ] Please let me know once those funds have been returned so we can begin refunding donors I'll keep an eye out for your reply Mateo Gofundme trust & safety team End ID]

So, from the screenshot of an email she provided, it looks like the fundraisers for Maia, Kareem, and Noor are going to be closed, and all donations are going to be refunded to the original donors??

Gaia Thomas was also forced to return the amounts she had withdrawn from each fundraiser:

[ID: Three images, each showing the Gofundme fundraisers for Mai, Kareem, and Noor, in that order. Mai's fundraiser is at $38,301 out of the $35,000 goal, with Gaia Thompson having donated back $17,968 seven hours ago. Kareem's fundraiser is at $10,848 out of the $15,000 goal, with Gaia Thomas having donated back $5,108 seven hours ago. Noor's fundraiser is at $197 out of the $25,000 goal, with Gaia Thomas having donated back $97 eight hours ago. End ID]

so It looks like the publish backlash has at least worked a little bit, Gaia Thomas is not getting away with thousands of dollars in fraud, BUT, Mai, Kareem, and Noor's fundraisers are all being shutdown by Gofundme, assumedly because Gaia claimed she'd been ~scammed~ as her excuse for withdrawing thousands of dollars in donations.

Is *anyone* in any kind of direct contact with Mai, Kareem, or Noor, so someone who is actually trustworthy can set up new fundraisers so we can immediately get the word out, once the g0fundmes close and people start getting their refunds??

Until we know more, here's the direct links to the existing fundraisers organized by Gaia, so we can keep track of what her 'explanation' of a 'scam' is.

Remember, do not donate to these links until we know more, the fundraisers might be closed completely with full refunds, or she might try something else to keep the funds to herself:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/hope-in-the-crisis-aid-for-mai-and-her-family

https://www.gofundme.com/f/save-the-life-of-kareem

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-a-family-rebuild-fundraiser-for-noor-eleyan

#Gaia Thomas #Mai Rajab #Kareem Alaklook #Noor Eleyan #free palestine #palestine #please signal boost this!!! #israel #gaza #free gaza

[internetgremlin-writes]

IMPORTANT: TUMBLR & FANFICTION

Alright kids, listen up because @staff have pulled off a corker of a hot mess and have decided to add "Community Labels". I guess they've decided we can't be trusted to add our own warnings and people can't make sensible choices with what they engage with.

But why does it matter to me?

Tumblr have made labels AN OPT IN SITUATION which means every single blog here is automatically set to hide any triggering content

If you want to continue to be able to access and read fanfiction PLEASE go into your settings and click "show" on at least the "Mature" and "Sexual Themes" labels!!

ALSO IOS USERS: there's an extra fun "Hide additional content" bit just to really try and block us from any hopes of success. Make sure you opt out of that too otherwise I think content will be blocked on the mobile app!

Attached to this post are screenshots from my settings so you guys know what to look for. I could only find it on my desktop settings and not on the mobile app (for now at least)

[I feel like I should add I don't want to sound like I'm pressuring anyone... if you don't want to see certain content obviously keep it hidden and protect yourselves BUT this post is mainly targeted at the horny little gremlins I write for who will be suddenly deeply confused when their smut supply is cut off]

#also guys reblog and BOOST THE SHIT OUT OF THIS POST #if people don't see this fandom accounts are going to haemorrhage followers #@staff literally fuck you #am not loving how you're making it HARDER for creators to get engagement when there's already issues with reblogs and stuff #iggytalks #community labels #tumblr update #fanfiction #artists on tumblr #writers on tumblr #content creators #formula one #carlos sainz #charles leclerc #max verstappen #pierre gasly #esteban ocon #lance stroll #lewis hamilton #george russel #sebastian vettel #mick schumacher #lando norris #daniel ricciardo #charles xavier #james mcavoy #micheal fassbender #tom hiddleston #loki #signal boost

[grippingbeskar]

small favours

— joel miller x fem!reader

— warnings: explicit content minors dni, smutttt, dirty talk, very minimal plot sorry not sorry, swearing, needles, mention of injuries/cuts

— a/n: happy tlou release week!! this is set in jackson between the first and second game, i wrote the first part before i saw the show but just imagine with me okay. and it’s literally just bc i saw joel in that denim shirt and went yeah… i wanna fuck him in that. lmao. also dedicated to @everybirdfellsilent because we have been waiting for this show for so long and it’s finally here and oaoxosoxosox. wow.

You hadn’t asked for much.

It was a simple fix, you were sure of it. Yes, you don’t know anything about how to fix hinges, nor do you have any clue about how you broke it in the first place. Either way, it’s just a few screws and a metal piece, so was it really that hard to find five minutes to fix it?

Leading another one of the horses into the stable, you pointedly step over the gate that now lays on the floor, too heavy for you to move it. The horse tramples it, of course, which is why you had asked for someone to come and fix it before the horses were brought back in from patrol. Clearly, no one gave a shit about your question, but you know they’d all be the first to complain if it was their horse that got out through a broken gate.

It was late now, anyways. Too late for you to get anyone out, and even with the safety of Jackson’s walls keeping you blocked off from the outside world, being out at night still freaked you. When you finally got the horse in your hand settled and fed, you promptly sat yourself on the floor of the stable. Without the front gate, it wasn’t safe to leave the horses alone. With your luck, they’d get spooked and run all the way through town, and the last thing you needed was more reason for the people in here to look at you.

It wasn’t that you weren’t liked— you just kept to yourself. This life was hard enough as it is, and you didn’t see the point in making friends when in five years this place would probably be full of strangers. People die every day out here, you knew that too well. You wanted to save yourself the heartache wherever you could.

All that anti social behaviour certainly didn’t win you any favours though— hence the still broken door. You loved it— you were good with horses, having lived in a farm before the outbreak, so you decided to volunteer to help in the stables, but it was hard work sometimes. It kept you busy enough, though, and horses never wanted to make conversation, so… win-win.

There was only one problem with working in here. Truthfully, it wasn’t so much as a problem and more of a chronic condition. At least, that’s the way it felt every time Joel Miller made some kind of appearance. Most people just left the horses tied up out front for you to take care of, but Joel seemed to enjoy the peace the stable provided— that and you never talked much, which seemed to work for him. On the days he’d come back from patrol, the two of you would share a few hushed conversations as you worked and he hid from the rest of Jackson, and then you’d fall into a comfortable silence, sometimes for hours at a time.

Weeks had passed like this, and every single day you got a little bit more interested in who the man really was, other than his clear infatuation with his horse. Right when he came in would be the time you talked the most, after about forty minutes it would get too busy and you’d work until the sun set. But those forty minutes started to stretch a little longer, and he seemed to gain interest in you, too. Maybe you were grasping at straws, but hearing Joel’s low voice rumble a few more words every time he spoke to you was doing wonders for your self esteem, and even you couldn’t deny the way your face warmed when he smiled at you.

“Hey, you still— damn. What happened here?” Joel calls from the gaping hole that is the stable door, and only because it’s his voice calling you do you look up.

“It’s been broken all day. I asked someone to fix it, but…” You shrug, sighing and leaning your head back on the small gate that was the only thing holding the horse behind you from leaping out down the main street. “I guess they had other shit to do. I can’t move it on my own.”

Joel considers you for a second, how your frame is backed against the gate, conveniently placed at the closest point to the open door. Then, he looks back to the door on the ground, and back up to you. He smirks.

“So you were plannin’ on sitting in here all night?” The weight of the day makes your shoulders slump forward, and for the first time you really consider your plan. “You gonna body check a horse when he makes a run for it?”

“Okay, it was a dumb plan. But, it’s that or let them all out and get stuck cleaning up the bar floor or something.” He smiles again, the setting sun behind him washing over his shoulders in a pretty orange colour. A tilt of his head in your direction has you standing up, taking the lead of his horse that he offers to you.

“You take him, I’ll go get my tools. Fix it up before sun down.” Before you can protest or tell him he doesn’t have to, he’s walking off to the right up the hill where his house sits.

You’d always been a bit jealous of the spot his house is. It’s far away enough from everyone that you get some real privacy, but close to the stables if you need a quick exit. He had a porch, too. One you spent a little too much of your time staring at during your work hours, when he spent his off days strumming a guitar right in your line of sight. He was just… peaceful to observe. He brought a calm to you that no one else seemed to be able to do, almost enough that you could forget about the world outside and just exist in that little bubble for a while.

You lead Joel’s horse inside, hearing it trample the door again, and hang up his saddle next to the stable. Joels horse is much like him— quiet unless provoked. You found it out the hard way when you first led it in with a routinely aggressive horse, thinking it’s demeanour would calm him down. The next morning you woke up to two very angry horses and a half bent gate of steel.

“Saved you your favourite spot.” You say to his horse, Old Beardy. You never asked how Joel picked the name, but for some reason it worked so well— at least, he was definitely older than most. “See? He’s right up there.”

The stable at the back was angled just right so that the small window at the height of a horses head pointed directly towards Joel’s porch. Not close enough to see anything other than the outside, but enough that you know it’s there. You don’t come in here often, Joel always taking his own horse in, but when you do you can’t help but notice the instant calming effect it has on Beardy— you might have more in common with this horse than half the people in Jackson.

When you find your way back to the front, Joel’s footsteps are trudging back down the hill. You’ll be fairly useless as anything other than company while he fixes the door, but you can’t seem to stop your heart from racing a million miles a minute as he gets closer and closer. Yes, he makes you forget about everything on the outside, but that’s mainly due to how insane he drives you. All those conversations in the stables and too long looks in town are just all too consuming, and now, when you see him come into sight, you have to put some physical difference between him and you.

“You don’t have to, Joel. Really, I’m sure someone’ll—“

“No, they won’t. Knowin’ the people around here, you’ll be sleepin’ on the floor till next year.” He bends down, and you drop yourself back to the floor and stare in some kind of mesmerised silence as he runs his hands over the broken hinges of the door.

In a few passing thoughts you’d never admit to yourself, you have an obsession with his hands. He was just so…capable. He could do so many things so easily— and some kind of backward wire in your brain fizzled with electricity at the sight of him in his element. He starts fiddling with tools, first starting to remove the broken hinge, muscles flexing as he tears off the old bolts.

“What happened?” He says, the words muffled by the screwdriver in his mouth.

“I have no clue. When I woke up this morning it was blown in. I spent a good hour trying to move it but it’s so—“ With one arm, he pulls it up to stand vertical, a fist wrapping around the edge of the gate. It doesn’t even look like he tried. “—heavy.”

“Come ‘ere and hold it straight.” He says, keeping one arm out in front of him, the other still holding the door up. “I won’t let it fall. Come on.”

“Like this?” You say, staring down at him as you finally reach the door and take a little bit of the weight. He flicks his eyes up, nodding and shifting on his knees to get a better angle on the door.

“Perfect.” He says softly, looking up at you for another split second before clearing his throat and screwing on a new hinge.

“You really didn’t have to do this, but thank-you.” Joel shakes his head, his fingers fiddling with a latch.

“Least I can do. Everyone should be up here helpin’ you anyways.” He stands up, and with only a barrier the width of a gated door, you can feel his body heat keeping you warm when he towers over you. “Keep holding it still.”

“Yeah.” You manage, eyes fluttering closed. “People help, though.”

“Oh, I bet.” He says, sarcasm dripping off his words as he laughs dryly.

“They do! Sometimes… I mean, it’s not their fault. I’m kind of a hermit up here. I don’t really make an effort, so I can’t blame them.” He stops working, his knuckles white over the railing of the gate, and looks to you.

“You’ve trained all these new horses to track better than those guys ever could. They’d die out there without ‘em. Carl doesn’t know his left from right— he got lost eight times last patrol. It’s cause of your horses he got back safe.” Joel’s face is more serious, his eyes sharp but still with a hint of softness that he often looks at you with. “Doesn’t matter if you ain’t makin’ friends. This ain’t middle school, and people should be helpin’ you no matter what. Least of all fixing a door.”

“That’s why I keep you around, Joel.” You smile lightly, his voice getting lower the angrier he gets.

“Good. You tell me next time, and I’ll come round and help. Avoid the whole town all together.” You hum, letting go of the gate as he hauls it up in the air and shuffled backward, setting it against the hinges. “How do you know so much about horses?”

“I lived on a farm, way back when. Besides, they’re easy to navigate once you get to know them.” Joel puts the screwdriver back in his mouth, and you can’t help but stare at him. The small scars on his face, peppered around his cheeks. Some are older, worn and faded, while the one across his nose is new. It’s not even scarred yet, still fresh

“You okay?” He says softly, tilting his head.

“Your face.” His eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head. “Sorry. You… did something happen on patrol? You have a cut—“

“Just a few clickers. Real old, hauled up in a caravan out west. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” The door drops into place, and he swings it out towards him. It sounds less squeaky than it usually did. “Good as new.”

“You should clean it.” You say, worry edging in your voice. “If it was clickers.”

“I’m fine.” He shrugs it off.

“Come on. It’s the least I can do. I have a first aid kit in the back, and then we can call it even.” He relents, locking the door behind him and stepping further into the stables. “Sit. I’ll get the kit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You can hear a small smirk on his voice, and you roll your eyes, turning around to find the kit. “Why you got a first aid kit in here anyways?”

“You’re using it now, aren’t you?” You turn around, raising your eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how many people come here before going to medical. I started to stock up a little, do what I can. It’s not much, but I can clean it off and do some botched stitches until they see a real doctor.”

“And none of those guys came up to fix the god damn door?” He was getting angry again, and you tried to ignore the shiver that went up your spine when he spoke like that.

He was sitting on a small stool, putting him about waist height. When you stepped closer, shuffling your feet on the floor, he tilted his head up. His open legs invited you closer, nearly drawing you in with a magnetic field he was completely unaware of.

Armed with a cotton ball and disinfectant, your fingers were light enough to breeze along his jaw to hold him in place. He stares up at you, watching your eyes as they flit between the cut on his nose and his wandering gaze. His face is warm when you work up the courage to place your palm on his cheek, thumb gently smoothing over the salt and pepper flecks of his beard. He doesn’t flinch away when you press the cotton ball to his face, swiping across the bridge of his nose.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, feeling the need to keep your voice low.

“No.” He does the same, the heat of his body making you shuffle slightly closer. His hands are in fists on his knees, like he’s straining to keep himself still. “Told you it was fine.”

“And I told you I wanted to help.” When you’re satisfied with the results, you take a fresh cotton pad and dry it up. “You might need stitches. It’s deep.”

“Go on.” He says, and you lean back, eyes wide.

“You want me to stitch your face together?”

“Good practise, and I trust you.” The simple words have your heart slamming against your rib cage, but instead of showing it you kneel in between his legs and search the contents of the kit for a needle.

“If I mess up your face, you knew what you signed up for.” When you find what you’re looking for, you straighten, Joel’s face is right in front of you. It takes you a second to realise just how close he is, and the position isn’t lost on him either. It’s probably the most emotive you’ve seen him, his jaw going tight from how hard he’s biting down.

“It’s already messed up. You’re fine.” He manages, his voice strained.

“Hold still.” Whispering the words, you lean closer and bring the needle to his skin. His eyes close, and it’s when you press the point into his nose that his hands shoot out in front of him, holding your hips gently.

“Sorry. Shit—“

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” He grunts in a way you think is affirming, so you keep threading the needle. You only need one stitch for a spot this small. “Your face isn’t messed up.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not. Messed up.” You feel his thumbs stroke along the bone of your hip just once before he stills again. You tie off the stitch, and his eyes open. “There. You’re pretty again.”

Your breathing was rapid even though you didn’t have a true reason for it, but neither of you moved. His hands— strong and so fucking capable, holding you still on your knees in front of him. His eyes were pools, inviting you in with a gleam of something shiny, and where you were nearly gasping he was calm and collected. In his element, like he was right where he should be.

The whole stable was a dull orange now, the colours dusting through the strands of Joel’s hair. It’s never really sitting right, wind whipping it out of control on patrol, but you have the urge to run your hands through it anyway. You let yourself explore one small piece of him, like he has to you, and your fingertips run back over the shell of his ear, tangling in his hair. He sucks in a short breath, leaning into the hold of your hand.

“Joel.” You say, voice so soft he would of never heard you if you weren’t so close, but you call for him and he leans closer. Your foreheads nearly touch, and his hands tighten their hold on you.

“Thank you, darlin’.” You sigh deeply, unable to keep yourself upright at the nickname. It rings through you, his accent strong and adding an entire other layer to why he’s so easy to fall into. You don’t even really notice how dark it’s gotten— you usually have sprinted home by now. But Joel’s here, and with him this close, you can’t think of anything else. He leans closer, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Can I kiss you?” He says, the brush of his lips against yours sending a tidal wave of need from your head to your feet.

“Only if you hurry up.” You answer helplessly, voice cracking, and he smiles against you and finally brings his mouth to yours.

It’s anything but calm. That peaceful energy of the stables is completely shattered and sorted into something electrical and sizzling. He yanks you forward, bodies pressing together as you use the leverage of your hand fisted in his hair to kiss him harder and deeper. It doesn’t take long before his tongue is swiping along your bottom lip, seeking permission.

You let him in— you’d let him do whatever he asked for if he kept pouring himself into you like this. He tasted good, which should be impossible but when you’ve been starved of something for this long it doesn’t matter what he does it’s just that he’s giving it to you. He moves his hands to the small of your back, pressing your hips right in the middle of his open legs, his other hand on the back of your head.

You feel him groan when you press together, the sound waking up parts of you that had been dormant for far too long. It was like he had access to each nerve in your body, and every little sound or touch had them blaring red and sparking.

“Fuck, darlin’. Come closer.” He groans into your mouth before kissing you again. You smile for a moment, not entirely sure how you could get any closer, and then it’s wiped off when he hauls you upward, hooking your legs around his waist on the stool. “Yeah. Right here.”

Your arms cling around his neck, his own searching up and down your body. Your shirt rides up with the movements and you moan every time he grazed along your skin. There’s something equally hard and soft about his hands— rough from years of work but soft with the way they hold you up, how they’re careful not to dip too low or high. You arch your back, giving him wordless permission, and he groans into your mouth again.

At some point you have to breath— both of you gasping for air in the quiet of the darkened stables. He brings his hands to your face, holding you against his forehead so he can look into your eyes. He was smiling too— like actually smiling, not that half smirk you’ve seen so often.

“What are we doin’?” He laughs, kissing you again.

“I don’t know, but can we keep going somewhere that doesn’t smell like horse shit?” You whisper and he laughs again. It’s sounds so good— like the sound of the beginning of your favourite song. It makes your heart sing, melting you into the tune. “Please, Joel. I really want…”

“Tell me, baby.” He moves, angles your head with swift moves of his fingers so he can kiss you lower. Under your jaw, and then he drags his mouth down, along your neck, teeth nipping softly… “Fuck knows I wanna hear you say it.”

“You. I really want you.” He hums against your skin, one arm hooking under your ass as he stands easily. You squeal, muffling the sound in the mop of hair on his head. As you walk outside, there’s only a few people still mulling around, and they turn their heads towards you when they hear your soft laughter mixed with Joel’s— two sounds that seem to alarm them more than clickers.

For the first time since you’d been here, you really don’t care if people are looking at you, or what they’re saying. When Joel locks the gate behind you and slides you down his chest to let your feet touch the floor, you are reminded once again of his ability to remove every single thought from your mind except him. Just him, and his hands on your hips, spinning you around and leading you up the hill towards his house. How every so often he’ll bend down, pressing his lips lightly to the back of your neck, and how you can feel his smile on your skin.

He guides you easily, your body on auto pilot to his small gestures, and when you finally rush up the few steps of his porch— one you’ve spent way too much time staring at from afar, you’re both attached to each others face like horny teenagers. He fumbles with the doors lock, jamming keys with aggressive force while his other hand stays soft and sweet on your waist, holding you against him. When the door gives out behind you he never lets you stumble, taking you in his stride with practised precision. You’ve seen the inside of his house, but never the layout, so as he guides you blindly through the hallway, your shut eyes and occupied mouth never see it coming when you fall backwards onto a bed.

“Let me take this off.” He mumbles against your lips, tugging at your shirt and jacket. In a tangle of limbs you both shove at the material, finally hooking it over your head. He presses you flat against the mattress again, hanging over you and running his hands up and down your sides in long, soothing strokes. “God damn gorgeous.”

“Your turn.” The blaze in his eyes dulls slightly at your comment, and he just bends to kiss you again. He links your hands in his own, pulling you away from where they were tugging at his shirt. “Joel.”

“Nothin’ there you wanna see, baby. Just let me look at you.” As sweet as his voice sounds, and as much as you want him to continue, you pull away from his greedy mouth.

“Please take your fucking shirt off.” You say harshly, biting at his bottom lip hard enough for his eyes to open again. He looks over you, taking in the sight of you under him with your arms pinned above your head, back arched towards him. He’s clearly contemplating how difficult it would be to ignore you, smirking a little when he looks up at your hands again.

“Or what? You gonna make me stop?” He kisses under your jaw, his free hand skating along your side, only stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your jeans. When he hears you gasp as his hand disappears under the fabric, he laughs. “Nah, you won’t make me stop. Want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?”

“But I want—“

“Shh, shh. I’ll give you what you want.” His mouth his dizzying— words and movements hot against your skin as his hand bypasses your underwear and drags slow circles against your clit, immediately drawing his name from your lips again. “There you go, darlin’. Feels good?”

“God— yeah, faster. Please.” Your chest was rising and falling so fast, trying to pull the air he was punching out of your lungs with every quick movement of his fingers. He hums at the praise, and you feel him shift above you, sitting up so he could slip one finger inside of you. “Fuck, Joel!”

“I know, baby.” He tilts his head up to kiss you again, tongue matching the fast and unpredictable pace of his hand. You can feel it building— pleasure rippling up your spine and fizzing low in your stomach, and your hands tug under Joel’s unrelenting grip.

He seems to forget he was meant to be holding you, his groans and concentration all focused on the way he was fucking you with his hand, so he lets you go, his hand going to hold your face. It makes you smile under him, but it quickly gets lost when you moan his name again, rolling your hips against him.

Now your hands are free, you have a moment of clarity when your eyes flutter open and see him staring at you; eyes flitting between your face and your chest. You want to have that— to see skin you’ve only thought about in the late hours of the night when you were alone, never admitting it to yourself when you woke the next day. You grab onto the hem of his shirt, ripping the denim up as far as you can, getting your hands on the bare skin of his back.

He doesn’t help you— too obsessed with the way you are writhing and moaning so loud the poeple down the street will know what your doing. Neither of you care about anything else than this, right here, and the fiery hot spark that’s lighting you up inside.

“Shirt, Joel.” You tug at the collar, then card your fingers through his hair and pull. He grumbles something, and then you whimper when his hand leaves you and he sits up on his knees. He was out of breath, towering over you and keeping you caged underneath him as he tore the shirt over his head and threw it behind him. When he leans back down, he doesn’t give you the time to admire him that you’d like, but you take what he gives you. He shoves your own jeans down, shaking them off you in one tug, and your eyes hardly have time to open before you feel the backs of your calves press against the flexing muscles of his bare shoulders.

“Perfect.” He says, speech almost slurred, and the look he gives you reminds you of the one he gave you in the barn. Before you can think enough on it, both of his hands hold your hips down and he gives you one last look before he buried his face in your pussy.

It doesn’t take much to have you screaming his name again, that sweet hot pleasure that was building so quickly comes rushing back with the wet heat of his mouth. He eats you out like he’s fucking hungry for it— pulling borderline shouts from deep in your chest, like something is bashing against your ribcage, only awoken by his complete and utter devotion. His tongue swirls and fingers curl, and you lose sense of direction, clawing at his hair and feeling his groan when you pull him into you.

There’s no where to go, stuck under his weight as he dives into your taste, at his mercy entirely. It was so different to see him undone— a sight you wouldn’t be able to forget next time he came into the stables all soft eyes and short words. No, here he was holding your eye contact, groaning your name as if you were the one doing this to him. He gave you no choice but to hurtle towards the edge of consciousness, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold out under him much longer.

“Joel. Joel— fuck.” His lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers curl inside you in a spot that has you seeing stars. “Oh, god—“

He doesn’t say anything when you cum, just groans into your pussy as he guides you through it. He sets pace and intensity, both of which are hard and almost unbearable, and he only drags himself away when you beg him to. Your legs shake, his hands smoothing over your thighs as his mouth presses wet kisses up your skin, over your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth with an overwhelming force.

You hum, tasting the combination of you and him together on his tongue, taking everything he needs to give you. He shuffles up, and you feel his cock pressing hard against your thigh, still straining in his jeans. You let him kiss you lazily, let him explore you this way while your hands busy themselves between your bodies, unzipping his jeans. When your palm brushes over his length still covered by his boxers, he hisses and his eyebrows furrow, like the pleasure is almost painful. You do it again and he shudders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re so soft.” He murmurs past your ear when you slip your hand under the waistband. When your fingers wrap around him, you stay true to his word and stay light with your touch, not wanting him to finish just yet. You want to make it good for him— draw it out. Pay him back for everything he gave to you; not just tonight, but every night. “So fucking soft. Sweet.”

“You like that?” You ask innocently, stroking him again. Your thumb brushes over his tip and he shudders again, nearly shivering. “I can be gentle. Want you inside me, though.”

“Whatever you want. Fuck— anything you want to do to me. Please, baby. Not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” A single please was enough to grant him a thousand wishes, but you’ll settle for giving him just one.

He helps rid himself of the rest of his clothes, no insecurity in sight with the lower half of his body. There was no need to be… he was big. It made sense— he was a big guy, but it wasn’t just that. He was just… perfect.

“Eyes on me.” He says, pulling your gaze away from where your bodies are about to meet. “I want to see your face when I…”

He trails off when his tip lines up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation, feeling the soaked pleasure coating him as he finally slides himself further and further. You both sigh, like a weight is being lifted from both of you. As if this was the way you were both meant to be.

He bottoms out, head buried in the crook of your neck as he chokes out your name. You feel full— the weight and stretch holding you to the bed, your arms strung lazily around his neck. Your fingers wander down his spine, keeping that soft lilt to your touch that he seems to thrive under. For all his hardness and strength, it’s the lightest touches that seem to crumble him the most.

“Fuck, baby. Feel so good around me.” Joel never speaks for the fun of it, but he says these things like he needs to. Strained and focused, like it’s a compulsion to tell you how good it feels. “Needed to fuck you for so long. You gonna let me make you feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Joel. Please, I need— need you to move.” You whine like a spoilt child, and you are now that you’ve had a taste. He laughs once, a breathless sound, and then pulls out nearly all the way, only to slide back in with that same trained pace.

“Good girl.” He groans, and then picks up the pace.

It’s devastating. It’s the only way to describe it. He fucks you hard and slow, slowly etching himself into parts of your being you aren’t entirely sure he didn’t just create himself. Like he’s forged apart of you just for him, something low and hot, and he hits it with every, perfectly timed thrust. The bed rocks under him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Its creaks and groans are drowned out by his words and both of your moans.

You are incoherent— overcome by pleasure that shocks even the nerves in your fingers and toes, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Joel. He doesn’t fucking shut up— and it’s about the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“So fucking tight around me.”

“God, you feel good.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“Gonna fuck you for days.” Is the last one you hear before his groans turn to borderline whimpers, his pace stuttering as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and snap all at once. “Oh, fuck that’s it. Cum again for me. Jesus Christ—“

“Joel.” You can only whisper now— voice so strained that nothing could come out but his name. Your eyes roll back and you feel him fuck into you one or two more times, and then he pulls out and replaces himself with his hand. You ride out your pleasure on his skilled fingers, another wave of heat numbing you when you feel him spill onto your stomach, your back arching off the bed.

The room is suddenly dead quiet, nothing but panting breaths filling the silent house. He is still hanging over you, you can feel both of his forearms next to your head as he leans down to kiss you again. The warmth of his body is lifted just enough for him to use something soft to clean you off, and then he collapses beside you, tugging you onto his chest.

He runs his hand through your hair, stopping at your jaw to tilt you up. He kisses you again, the lack of oxygen making you giddy and dizzy, and you break the kiss only because your smiling so wide.

“What’s so funny?” He says, trying to be serious, but even in the dark you can see his matching grin.

“Just happy. Can I be happy?” It’s meant to be light hearted, but you feel him stop for a second, and then he tugs you a little closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be.” He tucks you under his chin, sighing deeply as the rest of your body turns into him and tangles itself with him. “I am.”

You open your eyes a final time, seeing the pitch black dark outside. If it was light, you’d be able to see the stable from here, but it’s black out there. Usually it would make you uneasy, but tucked up under Joel’s safe arms, there’s nothing in the world that could make you feel more at peace.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel killer x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader

[jazzyoranges]

Saw you take requests!! Can you do a fluffy Wednesday x Shape shifter!Reader (no smut please) where it's Wednesday's writing time but she can't think of ideas so reader turns into a cat and curls up on Wednesday's lap? Basically helping Wednesday by making sure Wednesday can't get up until she writes a chapter. Thanks!

Orange kitty - drabble

Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Words: 0.8k

A/n: i feel like we as a fandom haven’t been putting the orange cat x black cat trope in enough fics. this is me advocating for orange cat!r

“I feel your eyes on me, (Y/n).”

“I’m not allowed to look at my friend anymore?”

“It’s distracting. You’re inhibiting me from writing.” Wednesday isn’t fully lying. She just doesn’t add how you give her an odd feeling. An odd feeling she doesn’t like.

“Aww, do I make you nervous, Wens?” You laugh, deciding to ignore the glare she sends your way

“Keep talking and I’ll remove your voice box.”

“Please, I think you’d miss me too much” You roll your eyes, stretching on Wednesday’s bed

You turn into a cat as per Thing’s request, and you two start to play tag around Wednesday and Enid’s shared room. Thing happily bragged that you and him were better friends once. His hubris only resulted in Wednesday taking away his favorite lotions for an entire week.

The Addams girl huffs when she, yet again, makes a mistake on her typewriter. This was unlike her. The tiny trash can under her desk was nearing being full only after one or two hours of her failed attempts at writing. Wednesday put her hands in her lap after she realized her words only became futile

The abrupt stop of clacking keys makes you turn your head, giving Thing the perfect opportunity to tag you back on Enid’s bed. You quickly turn human again with almost a cartoon-ish pop, and ask Thing if Wednesday was allergic to cats

“She’s not, why do you ask?” He signs

“Do you think she’d kill me if I sat on her lap?” You sign back, not wanting Wednesday to hear

“As a human, most definitely. But if you were a cat maybe she’d tolerate you. No promises, though” Thing somehow shrugs using his thumb and pinkie finger as arms. God, you loved the weird appendage

“I can hear you two talking. I’d prefer if you’d leave me in silence.”

“Writers block?”

“No, I’m merely thinking of the correct words to use.”

“Maybe you should ask Enid for help. The woman can reach over the Twitter character limit in like… three seconds. Two if she’s really excited”

“Recommend such a horrid idea again and I’ll release you in my pen of hellhounds.”

“We both know I’d win” You cockily smirk, again ignoring what looks to be annoyance on Wednesday’s face. Then again, she always looked annoyed

“Your hubris is laughable. Let’s see how you suffice when your digestive system is ripped open.”

“Tempting, but I’d rather stay here with you”

You can only assume Thing listens with watchful… fingers? You execute your plan to him, and a quick pinkie-promise indicates he gets to bury you if Wednesday decides to kill you after the stunt you’re about to pull

“Hey, Wens?” The Addams doesn’t show any form of talking but you decide to keep going

“Did you know people say cats can lessen anxiety?”

The Addams hums in acknowledgement, so you continue

“Well, I don’t exactly believe it”

“And why is that.” Wednesday sighs. Sometimes she wonders why she indulges in you

“I dunno, just seems fake. I was wondering if you’d do an experiment with me?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Great! Thanks, Wens” You give Thing a quick wink after turning into a cat and hopping up onto her desk. Turning your head to the side as if you were asking a question, you looked at Wednesday for an answer

You were crazy, but not crazy enough to do something to make Wednesday hate you

For some reason, the Addams girl doesn’t even have a second chance to think before scooting back her chair. You’re about to jump into her lap with a paw over the edge of her desk, but you glance up to make sure Wednesday was sure. You receive a small nod

The action is enough to make you whisper a small “thank you” but it only comes out as a small meow

You circle around her lap for a good area to lay, and you quickly take your spot with a tiny smile that makes your eyes close. Wednesday scoots her chair back in, and she has absolutely no idea what to do.

Only when you start to purr a shiver goes up her spine. The vibrations are light, and something about you happily laying on her lap makes you chip away at Wednesday’s walls the tiniest bit. She contemplates where to put her hands before Thing scurries on top of you to scratch behind your ear. Wednesday shoots him a deathly glare in return, but your favorite Addams (don’t tell Wednesday) stays put

As if showing Wednesday how to pet a cat, Thing gets off of your back and points a finger in your direction. Hesitantly, the Addams girl copies the actions Thing showed her

And you? You were having an amazing time. Wednesday’s fingers were cold but every stroke of her hand was calculated. She took note of which spots you purred louder, and continued her movements

Fuck you and your ability to get what you want, Wednesday thinks. Of course your smug ass knew cats lessened anxiety. Of course.

But Wednesday can’t help being addicted to your tiny purrs and vibrations

With her left hand fondling your ear and her right on her typewriter, she decides maybe a cat could be arranged in her novel.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday (2022) #wednesday x reader #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #thing addams #enid sinclair

[slttygeto]

HEART TO HEART : GOJO SATORU

what is heart to heart? a show in which we bring two people who have history together to ask them a couple of interesting, heartbreaking questions.

today's episode: 27 year old Gojo Satoru broke up with his girlfriend 4 years ago, yet he cannot move on. does she feel the same? and does a person really not move on even after four years?

note: i started this…without a second thought. i dont know where its going or if its gonna do well. but i enjoyed it very much

a cold room, a white set, two chairs and a table—satoru gojo knew that the point of this very simple and minimalistic set was to make him feel vulnerable and uncomfortable, but a tiny vase would’ve been appreciated.

“why did you two break up?”

the ivory haired man leans back in his chair with a dry chuckle, fingers drumming along the surface of the wooden table.

“I was insecure,” he admits rather bitterly. “I just had a lot of things to work on, and letting go of her seemed like the right thing to do.”

“do you miss her?”

“oh, absolutely,” there’s a smile on his face when he says that, and sits up straight with his hands clasped together (an indicator that he was most likely anxious to be asked such vulnerable question). he goes on to squeeze his hands a bit and his lips are sealed shut for a bit before opening them again. “I thought to myself that I wouldn’t find love for a while after her—but it’s been four years, and I cannot get myself to move on.”

“has she moved on?”

“maybe? I’m not sure,” he lets out a nervous laugh and looks away from the camera before holding his head in his hands, there was a mental battle going on inside his head—before he finally decides to speak again. “I actually stalked her instagram account last week through a mutual friend and… I didn’t see a man on any of the pictures. she could just be super private.”

“was she private about being with you?”

“she would post pictures here and there, we didn’t like to keep our relationship a secret.”

gojo is handed a blindfold and he neatly wraps it around his eyes and waits, heart thumping loudly in his chest.

when you were asked by a friend if you would do this interview, a part of you was a bit hesitant just because you weren’t sure if you wanted to air out your love life like this and have to deal with the consequences of a potential future lover being upset about it—but when you were told that it was gojo satoru, your ex-boyfriend whom you dated for 3 years and were planning on building a future with—that is until it abruptly ended with no warnings whatsoever. perhaps you ignored the tornado warnings? were there even any to begin with? you will never know because you blocked him everywhere on social media. from instagram to his phone number. you couldn’t deal with the fact that he existed around you, near you yet you couldn’t have him.

four long years of not having seen him took a toll on your heart, as it sure gets excited the moment you spot white strands on top of a head that is laid out on the table. his sense of style is still so casual and laid back, but not in a cocky way. satoru has always been about feeling comfortable in your clothes but you notice his tense shoulders and his foot tapping and can immediately tell that he is anxious.

you silently pull the chair back facing him and he lifts his head off of the table. your hands rest on top of the surface and the producer finally asks gojo to take off the blindfold.

when he does and you two lock eyes, you both start smiling big but you can’t help the little tremble to your lips before you look away from the camera to wipe a few emotional tears.

“sorry,” you whisper but your mic was able to pick it up. almost on instinct, satoru reaches towards you and squeezes your arm reassuringly.

“when was the last time you spoke to one another?”

“four years ago.” you are the one to answer the questions now and you keep avoiding satoru’s big blue eyes.

“was it hard having to walk away from a long term relationship?”

“It’s always hard when you thought there was a connection,” your emphasis on the word “thought” makes gojo look down at his lap almost in shame. he had no time to explain himself or what he did, yet he couldn’t help but feel that this interview was going to be like a second chance to explain himself and perhaps give a proper apology.

“you had no closure?”

“nope.” you both answer at the same time and it feels as though feelings of resentment are starting to resurface as your demeanor grows cold around him and you pull your hands away from the table.

“why do you think you broke up?”

“you said you couldn’t really see us together anymore,” you were now speaking to satoru directly and he gladly took the heat of your words. “you said…that us being together was just a waste of time and that one of us has to walk away,” you were clearly hurt by his words, even four years later. the breakup took a toll on you both physically and emotionally. you were incapable of going on dates for a painfully long period of time that your friends had to drag you outside to meet some potential new partners—but none of them felt like satoru. you resented him for crawling into your heart and finding a safe space there, for settling down and building a warm house inside only to tear it down and leave as quickly as he came.

“I wasn’t… sure what I wanted to do at the time, I was confused about my future,” satoru admits for the first time ever. “I thought it was so unfair to drag you down that hole with me when it was so clear to you that you had a plan in mind—a secure one so I just-“

“left.” you finish the sentence for him and he lets out a pained laugh.

“yeah, I left. and when I realized that you had blocked me, I knew that there was no going back and that I actually did it. yknow, like, it wasn’t this bad dream where I would wake up and you were still beside me—you were actually gone, I made you leave.”

there was a long silence after this and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not after that confession.

“did you miss me?” gojo takes the initiative to ask this question instead of the producer but they don’t complain, watching carefully as you look back at your ex partner.

“I did,” you say again in a whisper, almost scared that you coming to terms with this horrible realization was going to hurt you further.

“do you think that…we could’ve worked out had I been honest at the time?”

“satoru, I would’ve never left you as easily as you did,” you knew that it wasn’t easy for him, but you want him to know that your love for him was bigger than he ever thought.

“would you like to try again?”

you two stare at each other for a bit and you sneak your hand towards his huge palm, resting your index finger there and tracing soft circles.

“yeah… I want to. do you?” you look up at him through your eyelashes and gojo’s heart feels as though it is about to burst.

“I would love to.”

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

—💭 if you like this, leave me a tip!

#moon's works #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo

[wombywoo]

Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

#tutorial #my art #art tutorial #since people have been asking #I remembered to save my process from this latest work~ #enjoy 🙆‍♀️

[lonicera-caprifolium]

Body-swap theory!!

okay, just putting this all together for ease of access, since it's been spread out across several posts now--

The day after it aired I watched the ending like actually 30 times and I became fully 99.999999% certain they switched places. I was initially thinking during the kiss, cuz of how the camera angle changes, but after watching an additional 20 times a few days later, I'm personally leaning much more towards them stopping time in the instance after "no nightingales".

Before the kiss, Aziraphale is saying "nice" things about the Metatron, but his face and voice keep switching to broadcasting distress, and they make it a point to show in ep 1 that Crowley can read him just from tone of voice

As they're pulling away after the kiss, they lock eyes and "Aziraphale's" expression shifts in the teeniest tiniest way, like a confirmation glance, before they shift back (and Michael Sheen is a master, so no chance it's not on purpose)

---(Like really, go back and watch how Aziraphale's expression shifts literally *a second* before "I forgive you" cuz the change is SO minute, but entirely different emotionally.)

Also the way he moves his jaw right after he pulls his hand away from his lips, is a bit from MS's Crowley (you can see it in the very last two seconds of this vid- link)

Aziraphale's hands -stay by his sides- after that, he doesn't clasp them at all, and it's particularly noticeable while he's walking to the elevator with Metatron. The way he walks is very stiff and precise, similar to after the swap in S1.

We don't see the underside of Crowley's jacket collar after the kiss, at any point (it is for sure red at the beginning of the ep, you can see it right before he changes in Heaven)

The Bentley drives away SLOWLY, which is how Aziraphale drives, and we're specifically shown that it only plays other music for Aziraphale

the seats in the Bentley are black as it drives away. They're usually brown, and the only other time they're shown to be black is when Aziraphale drives (@picturesque-about-it broke down the times so you can see-link)

---extra pic for anyone saying it's "cuz Aziraphale is lighter"-- the seats are still brown behind Crowley when he wears white

there's people wearing yellow in -every- part of the scene showing the Bentley both before and while it drives away! (link for pics/credit)

Aziraphale's smile in the elevator looks more like MS's Crowley. It's very similar to the trial during S1, but also (link)

This also explains why they're on opposite sides than they're usually shown while the end credits roll

Extra points--

many good points made by other folks here, about cues and snakes in beehives and swap motifs throughout the season-- link

The clock! Someone mentioned how the scene is so quiet you can hear it ticking, so I watched the ending a further 50 times to double check----I need to preface this by stating, I don't think this is a working clock, mainly cuz the hands aren't 100% where they should be between the minutes and the hours, like -a person- moved them to that time manually

When they're talking, the clock is at approximately 9:25 (?, again the hour hand isn't precisely set), then they walk across the room, and kiss, and immediately after that the clock is set about 15-ish minutes later (link to timestamps)

thanks to these bts shots, we can see that the clock on the opposite side of the room registers the SAME time difference before and after the kiss (link)

the first time Aziraphale looks "towards the window", I'm petty sure he actually looks further back towards the clock, *focuses on it* as Metatron walks up to him, and then spends the ENTIRE REST OF THE EXCHANGE blocking the Metatron's view of the clock

we're shown earlier in the season that Crowley can localize his time-stopping to a certain extent, like when he stopped the doctor and the rest of the room kept going, so it is possible he only stopped everything -outside- of the bookshop

---I KNOW Neil said it's a continuity error, but he also fully said "No" about there being a season 2 just days before they announced it was already written and in production, so. Take him at his word if that's what you wanna do.

---also I DID go back and look it over, and the clock IS consistently specifically set the entire rest of the episode as far as I can see. From the shots when you have a clear view of the clock, the angels and demons enter the shop at around 6, Maggie and Nina leave at around 7, the Metatron comes in at 8-ish, Aziraphale comes back in at that approximately 9:25

(insight from someone who works in production- link)

the music right before the kiss scene is the same leitmotif (Life After Death) used when they originally started formulating the swap in season 1! (link)

the movie Stairway to Heaven (1946) is featured as a poster in both the opening credits and in Maggie's shop (link)

the climax of the film has one of the leads willing to "take the place" of the other in heaven

(they also used a time-stopping mechanic, and the chess book Gabriel tests gravity with also plays a key role in the film)

and one last mention, extra food for thought--- the season's focus on their trusting one another, their history of performing "death (and heaven/hell) defying" feats together, and how they always get the trick right when it truly counts the most

that's what I've got so far!

If I'm right, they're apart now, but are actually more together then ever, and I find that terribly exciting. (And if I'm wrong, that's okay too! I'm just here to have fun.)

I'm not particularly concerned with very specific reasoning (that's for season 3 to tell us!), but I do think this theory is extra fun cuz pretty much any of the others could be the "why" driving it.

I'm not trying to convince anyone, or put down any of the other theories, so if you're not feeling it, that's okay! I'm just sharing what clues I'm seeing, so you can check if you see them too. 💕

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens s2 spoilers #Good omens s2 body-swap theory #long post #a snake in a beehive but this time -properly- disguised #there's a lot of little things and possibilities that make sense too #but this is just the main points I can see from things that are actually shown or featured #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley

[metal-mouse]

Because You're Mine

pairing: Ominis Gaunt x f!MC (m/f pairing)

themes: smut. troping tropeily. ye olde patch him up and then bang him.

warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. p in v. unprotected sex. fingering. horrendous pull out game. possessive!Ominis. someone threatens to dose you with a love potion. blood. mentions of violence. everyone is aged up.

summary: 3.9k word count. You are most surprised to see Ominis Gaunt return to you with a broken nose and a black eye from a fight. He's being awfully cryptic about who he got into a fight with, until you've finished healing him and he confesses why he's so upset.

note: Had a dream about this recently and decided to share it as a treat and also sometimes the best way to break through writer's block is to lean on the tropiest of tropes. Come get y'all juice. left MC house as ambiguous - I'm very Slytherin coded my b. i take liberties on what kind of undergarments they wear. Not an ounce of editing to be found.

@anto-pops @localravenclaw look guys i finished it

You didn’t look up from your book as the door to the Room of Requirement groaned open. There were only two people who knew of this room besides you, and as Professor Weasley hadn’t stepped foot in it since your fifth year, that left only one person. 

“Hello Ominis.” You called out your greeting, nearing the end of the page. He didn’t respond, which made you look up. You dropped the book and sat up straight at the sight of him. His cheeks were pink, there was a gash on the bridge of his nose which was steadily dripping blood, and one of his eyes was beginning to swell shut. Worry filled you, as your mind went to all of the worst case scenarios for what could have caused this. You stood up and hurried towards him, urging him to sit down on the sofa you had just been occupying. 

“Hello.” He said finally, in a dejected voice. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, a table appearing next to you with a bowl of water and some cloths. You very gently took his jaw in your hands as you tilted his head up to inspect his wounds. The cut on his nose was deep, and now that you were up close you could see his nose was slightly crooked. His pain was very evident, and his frown likely wasn’t making it any better. 

“I’m wonderful, thank you for asking.” Ominis hissed as you turned his head to get a better look at his eye. You were fairly certain his cheekbone wasn’t broken, which was more than you could say for his poor nose. 

“What happened?” You asked, ignoring his irritated sarcasm. If anything, it only suggested to you that he was fine beyond the wounds on his face and possibly a bruised ego. You weren’t sure if you had the skill to repair his nose. In the last year, you’d taken to spending more time in the hospital wing with Nurse Blainey. You’d assisted her during a detention once, and she had been more than happy to show you some of the healing arts. You knew the spell… perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to try? 

“I got into a fight.” He said, skirting around your question. 

“Well, obviously. I would love some detail, if you’re willing to provide. When Sebastian comes around all beat up like this it makes sense, but you mostly keep your hands to yourself,” You said while taking one of the cloths and gently pressing it to his nose, “hold that. I’m out of wiggenweld, I’m going to brew some.” His hand replaced yours as he held the cloth to staunch the blood dripping from his nose. You looked down at his uniform. His shirt and tie were covered in blood.

“Is detail truly important? I was in a fight, and now I’m here.” Ominis’ voice was muffled from the cloth. You poured some water into the cauldron atop your potions station. He was usually very open with you, content to tell you all of his deepest thoughts. Somewhere deep in your mind you wondered if this fight had somehow been caused by you. He had gone to Hogsmeade today with Sebastian, and Rookwood’s Ashwinders still tried to prey on you. You prepared your Horklump juice and Dittany leaves, waiting for the water in the cauldron to begin bubbling. It was strange that he would keep something like that from you, even if he didn’t want you to worry. 

“It’s clearly bothering you a lot, Ominis.” You said softly. He made an angry noise and didn’t respond. Now that the cauldron was bubbling, you added the ingredients and stirred the correct amount of times. You turned away to let it brew until it was ready, and returned to Ominis’ side. You wordlessly took the cloth from him and pulled it aside. It was drenched in blood, but it had mostly stopped the bleeding coming from both his nostrils and the gash on the bridge of his nose. 

“Ouch!” He hissed as you reached up and gently poked at his nose. 

“Stay still. It’s broken. Does anything else hurt?” You mumbled, climbing into his lap and holding his face steady with one hand. You fumbled for your wand, and he let out a little panicked breath and shook his head a little.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his good eye widening slightly.

“The Wiggenweld can’t straighten a broken nose. Don’t move. Episkey!” You said. He yelped as his nose cracked back into its normal position and the gash healed. You nodded in approval, pleased that the spell had worked. You’d never cast it beyond Nurse Blainey’s watchful eye. 

“There. I bet you can breathe a little better now.” You said, removing yourself from his lap to check on your potion. Ominis took a long, very audible breath. You watched him as he reached up and felt his nose. He looked absolutely miserable. Your lips pressed together in a frown, it was worrying how little information he was willing to divulge. 

“Have you seen Sebastian?” He asked. 

“No, I thought he was with you.” You said, scooping some of your completed wiggenweld potion into a glass. Anxiety briefly pulsed in your chest, worrying that whoever had attacked Ominis had also gotten Sebastian. No. He wouldn’t have come to you unless he knew Sebastian was safe. 

“He never met me. Must be with Violet.” He snorted, sounding absolutely furious with his friend. You tilted your head, making a small sound of agreement. Violet McDowell was Sebastian’s particular flavour this week after you’d forbidden him from asking Poppy Sweeting on a date. You had promised him swift and painful retribution if he had even looked at Poppy without the intent of marrying her and loving her forever. 

“Here. Drink this.” You said, handing Ominis the glass full of wiggenweld. You crouched in front of him, a hand on his knee balancing him as he drank. The bruising around his eye faded, and he sighed with relief as he set down the now empty glass. You stayed crouched before him, your fingers drumming on his knee as a sign that you would love an explanation. 

“You really can’t just let it go?” He asked. 

“I’m sorry, I’m worried. It’s frightening when you get hurt.” You squeezed his knee a little. He let out a little sight, his frown softening.

“No, please don’t apologize. It should be me apologizing, I can see how someone arriving covered in blood would be worrying - especially for you.” He put his hand over yours. You stood then, setting your wand to the side as you settled down beside him. 

“If you really don’t want to tell me what happened, please just tell me if this is going to be a recurring problem.” You said in compromise, taking his hand again. He looked deep in thought, clearly battling with his inner thoughts.

“I heard two sixth-years plotting about how they were going to slip you a love potion.” Ominis said finally. You blinked in surprise. Out of everything that could have come out of his mouth, that had been the one you least expected. 

“A love potion?” You echoed. He nodded, and you admired the rage on his face. He’d fought two boys purely because they wanted to give you a love potion. You fought the smile spreading on your lips. For someone who was awfully composed, he was certainly prone to his jealous moments. 

“Yes. A love potion. They’re lucky I haven’t gone directly to the Headmaster. I should have them both expelled.” He sneered. Your face went hot at the arrogance in his voice. You leaned in, loosening his bloody tie and tossing it to the side.

“You’re covered in blood.” You informed him. He wasn’t really listening to you at all, instead he was caught up in his own rage. You took that opportunity to unbutton his shirt so you could remove it and try to clean the blood off. 

“Foolish, impudent worms. Gryffindors always think they’re entitled to that which is not theirs.” He pulled his arms out of the sleeves when you tugged on his shirt. He may not have been paying attention to you, but you were hanging onto his every word. That which is not theirs? That statement certainly held some heavy implications. You were grateful he’d stepped in of course, love potions were risky and you did prefer to make your own decisions.

 Ominis continued his monologue, describing precisely what he had done to the Gryffindor boys for their crime. You took a clean cloth and dampened it to wipe the blood off his neck and chest. He’d been exceptionally cruel to the boys, and every word he spoke had your heart beating faster. It was becoming difficult to pay attention to your cleaning. He’d taken their threat personally, and had essentially destroyed them for it. Broken their wands, hanging them upside down from a tree, blackened eyes, he had truly done a number on them. Out of your little trio he was widely regarded as the most peaceful, with Sebastian being the most violence-prone and you falling somewhere between the two. He was incredibly protective of you, something you’d discovered even when your friendship had only just begun to bloom. 

His hand closed around your wrist suddenly, and you realized you had stopped moving. You looked at his face, his hair was a mess, his cheeks were still pink, and he held an expression you’d never seen before. You were suddenly desperate to break the silence. His other hand lifted to your cheek, his fingers delicately tracing along your jawline. 

“They can’t have you.” He whispered, his fingers moved down your neck slowly. Your breath hitched at this display of possessive intimacy that you had never seen before. You and Ominis had your fair share of intimate moments, but this? Never anything like this. This was an entirely new side to him. It was something you’d expect of Sebastian, the man who moped over girls he’d barely been involved with for longer than a week, but never Ominis. You didn’t know what to say. When you had first crossed that border between friendship and something more, it had been relatively laid back. You went for walks together, bought each other sweets and butterbeers from Hogsmeade, and spent late nights in each other’s arms in the Room of Requirement or the Undercroft. This change was almost as unexpected as its impact on you. You knew deep down that this should not be making you so aroused.  

“Where has thi–'' You were cut off when Ominis leaned in and kissed you. You dropped the cloth from your hand as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his lap. You draped one arm behind his neck, and rested the palm of your other on his cheek with your fingers in his hair as you matched his passion. It wasn’t rough, so much as it was claiming. His cold hands pressed against the skin of your back making you gasp and arch against him. He took this opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue moving so sinfully your core was steadily aching now. You knew precisely what that tongue was capable of, and you’d grown to anticipate it. Dream about it even. 

His rapidly warming fingers stroked your sides as he brought them under your front and withdrew them from your shirt entirely. As Ominis began to unbutton your shirt, you began to lightly rock your hips to create some friction between you and the bulge in his trousers. He let out a low groan and proceeded to rip your shirt open. Your eyes snapped open as you sat back a little bit in surprise, but he pulled you back against him with a single tug of your shirt. His hands went to your chest, and he let out a dark laugh against your mouth when he felt only skin. You weren’t wearing anything under your shirt. His mouth lowered and he left hot, wet kisses and little nips down your jaw and onto your neck. You couldn’t contain the small moans and gasps that tumbled from your lips. 

Ominis’ tongue ran along your collar, and his hands roamed to your backside where he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up more. The hand you had in his hair shot to the back of the sofa to brace yourself. You cried out as he bit down on the side of your breast. His tongue delicately swiped out licking the hurt he’d just caused. He held you up with one arm, his other hand running along your backside and between your legs. The fabric of your trousers was disappointingly thick, and you felt far too constrained while wearing them. His hand moved to cup your breast as he swirled his tongue over your sensitive nipple. He stopped suddenly, his hands falling to your waist as he pushed you back slightly. 

“Take off your trousers.” He commanded. The bark in his voice sent a wave of heat to your core. You stood up, fumbling with the buttons before finally pushing them down. He reached out and made a sound of displeasure when his hands ran over your underwear. He hooked his thumbs in the waistline and yanked them down. You stepped out of your trousers and undergarments, and Ominis checked to make sure you’d done precisely what he had wanted. He made no move to remove his trousers. You stared at his bulge desperate to see him undressed. It wasn’t fair that you were now bare in front of him, and he was still half-dressed. 

“I want to taste you.” You pleaded in an attempt to get him to take his trousers off. 

“As reluctant as I am to deny you, don’t you think you’ve taken enough care of me today?” Ominis’ lips twisted into an arrogant smile, as he turned you around and pulled you back. You fell into his lap. One of his arms looped around you pulling you back against his chest. His lips pressed to your neck, leaving kisses and small bites all along the smooth column. He pushed your legs open wide, biting down hard on the flesh of your shoulder. You cried out, your eyes squeezing shut at the pleasurable pain. One hand ran along the inside of your thigh, and the other stayed planted on your belly. 

“Those fools think they could have this. That they could have what is mine.” His breath was hot on your neck. You whined as his hand stroking your thigh got closer and closer to where you wanted it. 

“Please Ominis.” You complained when his fingers brushed next to your wet and aching center but he didn’t touch it. Your lip curled, two could play at this game. You began to rotate your hips slowly, grinding down on the bulge in his pants. Your hands covered his and you moved them to where you wanted them to be. One between your legs on your heat, the other cupping your breast. He huffed out a laugh.

“Eager, aren’t we?” He chided. 

“I thought you wanted to prove I’m yours.” Now this spurred him on. Without warning he curled two fingers inside of you. Your back arched as you let out a gasp and Ominis began to pump his long fingers deep inside of you, ensuring the heel of his palm pressed against your clit while he worked. While his fingers curled against your sweet spot, you shamelessly rutted against his palm to elevate you even higher into ecstasy. 

“Is that better, darling?” He asked, nibbling on the back of your ear. 

“Uh huh.” You moaned, nodding your head. You wished you could kiss him. You wanted to face him and have him buried deep inside of you. You would have turned around if this didn’t feel so fucking good. There was something about him being in complete control and doing what he wanted with you. You weren’t even tied up, yet you felt useless to do anything to pleasure him beyond grinding against his bulge. There was a tantalizing pressure building inside of you, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. Ominis seemed to have realized as he pressed further into you and his fingers kept up the exact same pace. Your head fell back against his shoulder, his free hand coming up to wrap around your throat. 

“Right there?” He asked. You nodded against him, unable to form a coherent thought. You writhed against him, pressing his palm hard against your clit. Your eyes squeezed shut as you fell over the edge and bolts of pleasure made your toes curl. You let out a sinful scream that may have been his name. Ominis didn’t stop, letting you ride out your orgasm on his hand until your knees clamped together and he withdrew. You were a panting mess as he gently guided you to lay on your back. You heard the sound of his belt hitting the ground, and you opened your eyes and watched him pull down his trousers. You moaned at the sight of his cock springing free, delightfully pink and large. 

Ominis knelt on the couch between your knees, lowering himself over you. Impatient and greedy, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to press your lips to his. You were hungry for him, your tongue swiping over his bottom lip prompting him to open up for you. You were certain the way he tasted would stay with you for the rest of your life, so damn sweet and addicting. Reaching down, you gently wrapped your hand around his cock and lined it with your entrance. Slowly, Ominis pressed into you with a low moan. You were distracted from your kiss at the feeling of his cock filling you up. He always went slow when he started, knowing it drove you crazy. Once he was sheathed fully inside of you, he stayed completely still aside from the hand that laced in your hair lifting your head again to press a sweet kiss against your lips. 

“I’ve always been yours.” You whispered as his forehead rested against yours. His eyes snapped open at this, his fingers curling so he was pulling your hair. He ground into you, and you choked on a moan. Ominis pulled out nearly all the way and slammed back into you with a husky groan. He hooked his free arm behind your knee, pushing your leg up and out of the way as he settled into a slow and steady rhythm. 

“Of course you have. I fit s-so perfectly, it’s like you were made for me.” The little stammer in his sentence made your heart flutter. You gasped when Ominis rolled his hips forward deepening his thrusts. Your nails scraped across his shoulders as your mind was overtaken by pleasure and thoughts of him. The moans and small praises that came as a steady stream from his mouth paired with his cock hitting every angle inside of you had you on a high you didn’t think possible. 

You arched your back in an attempt to let him deeper inside of you. Despite being connected at your most intimate part, you wanted more. You wanted inside of his heart, inside of his soul. Through your pleasure, you opened your eyes to look upon his face. His eyes were heavy-lidded with pleasure, his mouth hung open and his skin completely flushed, his hair an absolute mess. You loved it. Without warning, Ominis picked up the pace slamming into you without restraint. You dug your fingernails into his shoulders now, forcing him down to kiss you. His arms wrapped around your waist arching your back even further and changing the angle which he fucked into you. Between the feeling of his lips on yours, and his cock inside your already sensitive cunt, you were rapidly tumbling towards another orgasm. When Ominis took one hand from under you and reached down to rub circles on your swollen clit, your head fell back.

“Come.” Ominis ordered, and you didn’t even have it in you to scream this time. Ominis muttered a string of curse words as your walls clenched around him and you rose up to clamp your teeth down on his shoulder. It was almost painful how hard he had made you come, and some primal part of you needed him to share in that feeling. He kept his steady pace, not faltering once as he chased his own pleasure with a great moan. The hand that had been rubbing you clamped around your neck and squeezed. You watched him and saw in his face he was close. You met his thrusts, matching his rhythm. His chest heaved and a light sheen of sweat had formed across his body. In that moment you were certain that it wouldn’t matter if someone gave you a love potion, Ominis was all you’d be able to see. 

“Yours, Ominis.” You whispered, incapable of telling him truly what you were thinking. His fingers dug into you and his grip on your neck tightened. Almost there. You watched in awe as his head dropped and he let out a guttural groan that slightly resembled your name. His cock twitched and his body trembled as he emptied himself inside of you with shallow thrusts. Ominis’ hand let go of your throat, and he collapsed on top of you. Both of you were breathing heavily, and you wrapped your arms around him holding him tight to your chest. You pressed kisses to the top of his head and he let out a wordless groan. After a few moments passed, Ominis slowly pulled out leaving you feeling empty.

“We should have conjured a bed.” He mumbled. You let out a little laugh as one appeared next to the sofa. Ominis rolled over, taking you with him so that you were laying on his chest instead of him atop of you. You knew that you should get up and probably clean yourself off, but with his arms around you and your genuine concern about your ability to stand, you were content to just stay. 

“Maybe you should get into more fights.” You sighed, reveling in the lovely feelings of your afterglow. He laughed, gently rubbing your back.

“If men don’t learn how to behave, I just might.” He said. You could do without him getting injured, but if this was how he reacted when he was jealous or feeling possessive? You could definitely get behind that. 

“I’ll be here when you do.” You sighed, thinking about how you should really restock on your wiggenweld potions. 

“And, for the foreseeable future, I will be tasting your food and drink before you.” Ominis said, making you snort. 

“What am I, the Queen of England? I don’t need a food taster, Ominis, if anything I’ll just start carrying around an antidote to love potions.” You told him.

“You can be my Queen.” He grinned at you.

“You’re not allowed to speak with Sebastian anymore, he’s rubbing off on you.” You sat up a little bit to get a better angle as you looked down at his face. 

“That’s your job, Darling.” 

“My point has been proven.” You smiled widely at the sound of his laughter. When you were with Ominis is when you were happiest. You were safe, comfortable, and content. You were in love, and you were his.

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt smut #ominis gaunt oneshot #ominis x you #ominis x reader #reni writes

[diejager]

Hi! I've been binging your works and I absolutely LOVE how you write Ghost's character.

I was wondering if I can request mentor! Ghost with an Fem! recruit who's like his mini-me (mask and everything) and some others decide to play a prank and pull off her mask in front of the team, cue angry, protective Ghost. Thank you!

Mask prank

He was reluctant at first, his heart frozen over to a cold, dead and unfeeling thing. Ghost liked to keep himself closed and at an arm’s length of people he didn’t know, you fit in that category. An unknown aspect of his entourage that he hated, he abhorred the new and strange.

An yet, you squirrelled your way into his mind, your jumpiness at loud sounds, your tense figure and flinches when people got near to you, wandering hands of ignorant fools that couldn’t understand your jarring behaviour towards physical touch and that exhausted gleam in your eyes, ones that have seen too much for your age. You reminded him of himself, a younger and pained self with a twitchiness towards touch and an awkward personality.

Perhaps that’s why you got to him so quickly, he tested your limits, standing closer and closer to you every time to see where he had to stop before you crashed. With encouragement from the others, he got to the point where he could touch you, placing a hand on your shoulder or forearm, guiding you this way or that way. You reminded him so much of the person he tried burying, to kill off. You reminded him of Simon Riley.

And yet, he gifted you a mask after your first mission with them, one of his balaclava with a painted skull. He remembered the happiness in your eyes and the joy of his team, letting them embrace you tightly and patting you proudly. He’d never seen anything so precious and worth protecting.

That’s why - he thought - he got so mad at a group of privates that pulled a prank, a mean one, on you. He was there when it happened - he was always near you, whether it’s beside you or in the same room, he was always with you as your support buddy - when the men and women approached you, watching your body grow rigid and tense, a frown hidden under the same mask he wore. It started with harmless banter, them surrounding you without much intent until someone reached for you mask.

You panicked, arms jerking outwards to stop her, but another one pulled the mask off you from behind. You weren’t fast enough and outnumbered, and you were paying the price for it. You froze, hands hastily covering your face in a frenzy of harsh breaths and panicked thoughts.

Ghost saw red, he stomped over to you slumped figure, looming over you and glaring at the calling and jeering group that saw no issue in taking your mask away, your shield.

“The fuck you think you’re doing,” he barked, eyes narrowed so much that his eyes seemed to turn black.

He watched them stutter, lining up before him while he stood before you, blocking their view on your agitated and fearful figure. His eyes stared down at the person who tried to take your - his - mask off and the one who did, burying them down with his gaze alone. If his gaze could kill, they would’ve been burned and buried six feet under a hundred times, that red-rimmed glare with abysmal eyes made his name a joke.

“It- it was a prank, sir!” The person holding your shield in his hand spoke up, trying to defend himself with he word prank.

“A prank? Are you bloody children?!”

What a fucking excuse, they were adults, privates on duty for any deployment and they decided to play a prank on another? He couldn’t believe his ears when they blurred out those words, he couldn’t put his anger in words. He was never good with his emotions, never articulate enough to show or tell people how he felt, it felt jarring.

Without a word, he snatched the mask out of their hands, turning to face you with comforting gestures. He hated how small you made yourself, crumpled into yourself with so much terror, hate and trauma. He pushed the mask over your head, hushed words to your ears alone as e held you by your biceps.

“Scram,” he glared over his shoulders, watching the privates squeak and flee, steps quick and clumsy as they ran from the room.

Turning back to you, he led you away from the room, catching on your shallow breaths and your erratic heart. He walked you to your room with a hand on your upper back, a firm and grounding hand that reminded you that he was here, that you were with him in a disclosed base in the British isles. He stayed the night, taking your desk chair while you dozed off to a night plagued by your demons.

He’d have to leave you under Gaz and Soap’s watchful eyes and talk to Price about this tomorrow. If Price doesn’t do anything about them - although he doubted Price won’t, he was fiercely protective of his group of troubled children - Ghost will have to think of something by himself, a lesson for everyone to remember.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog

#cod mw2 #x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x you #task force 141 #mw2 #call of duty mw2