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bratphilia · 6 months

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the flip side (m. schmidt x reader x w. afton)

note: remember that mike fic i wrote where i mentioned his voyeurism kink? here we go.

pairing: mike schmidt x reader x steve raglan / william afton

tags: bondage/restraints (both m/f receiving), gagging (m receiving), cuckolding/voyeurism, doggy style, spanking, dubcon, dom!william, sub!reader + mike

mike awoke to a low whistling sound. the last thing he remembers is dreaming the same dream he's been having his entire life, except this time, instead of ghost children leaving cryptic messages for him, all he could hear was your voice in the distance crying out to him for help. when his eyes opened and he gained consciousness, he found himself in a nightmare beyond anything he's ever experienced in his sleep before.

it was you, blindfolded, completely stripped nude and handcuffed, laying on your stomach on an old mattress on the floor. he seemed to be in a dark basement. before he could think he tried to call out your name and lunge himself towards you, but he was halted realizing he was gagged by a cloth and restrained around his chest and wrists. he was completely powerless.

"ah, good," a cheery, oddly familiar voice calls, "you're finally awake."

steve raglan, his fucking job counsellor, steps into his line of vision. "we almost got started without you."

mike wanted to demand what the hell was going on, but he can only punctuate it by wriggling aggressively in his restraints. steve only laughs at his helplessness.

"you just couldn't leave it alone, could you?" steve asks rhetorically, and mike had no idea what he's referring to, but he has an inkling it has to do with freddy's, because what else could this be about? "so i decided to take something from you." he gestures toward you. your eyes are squeezed shut with tears rolling down your face. mike looks at you pitifully. he hates to see you cry, especially now that he can't do anything about it.

"as you may have guessed by now," steve rambles on, starting to unbutton his shirt and strip himself from his trousers, "i'm going to use your little girlfriend, and you're going to watch. completely powerless to stop it."

you begin to sob. "no...! please, don't..."

"shut the fuck up!" steve's tone switches so easily. he walks over to you and grabs you by your cheeks and bends down to your level, whispering something mike can't hear, but you obviously don't like the sound of it as more tears run down your face.

steve turns to address mike again. "now, any preferred positions?"

mike only blinks. did he really just fucking ask him that?

"oh, wait!" steve laughs, like him being gagged and unable to answer is the funniest thing in the world.

"she sure is gorgeous. you picked a good one," steve comments, making mike's blood boil. no one should call you that, only him. "let's see... what about you, princess?"

you sniff. "just... get it over with." mike's heart breaks slightly at your lack of resistance, but he understands that steve is probably going to kill you if you don't submit to him.

steve frowns. "well that's no fun."

he walks around the mattress, observing you, while you bury your face into the cushiony surface, embarrassed. "i think i'll make this easy for you two. i'll just take you from behind, sweet girl."

"mmph!" mike cries out against the cloth. he's violently rattling against the restraints, desperate to break free.

steve just chuckles at his futile attempt. "don't hurt yourself, kid."

he kneels down on the mattress and adjusts you to his liking: bent on your stomach so your ass is in the air. steve immediately sticks his cock inside of you and doesn't even give you a grace period to adjust.

something inside mike's stomach stirs. it's a... pleasurable feeling. but one he can't relieve, so it's even more so frustrating.

you cry out loudly. grasping desperately at the fabric of the mattress but your grip keeps coming loose due to the rough physicality of which steve is handling you in.

"please!" you practically scream. "please, i can't take it!"

steve just laughs, almost evilly. "you hear that mike? hear your girl beggin' for me?"

mike lets out a grunt. he can feel his pants tightening. as much as he hates to admit it, he's getting aroused off of this.

the room is filled with the noises of skin slapping, steve's grunts and groans paired with incessant moaning. it was all overwhelming to mike. he shut his eyes, trying to block off the tirade of steve's praises — his 'good girl's, 'yes baby's, 'take it for daddy's, and so on — and tries to focus on the noises tumbling uncontrollably from your mouth. he starts bucking his hips to create friction by rubbing his dick against the fabric of his pants.

mike doesn't realize it but muffled, quiet whimpering noises are coming from him. however, steve notices.

"oh, you sick fuck. you like that, huh? like watching a stranger fucking your girlfriend, huh?" steve asks with a wide smile on his face. then he grips you by your hair so you can look at him. "look at him, sweetheart. see how pathetic he is? he's getting off to this."

fuck, your eyes. mike comes from that alone. he stops bucking his hips and just watches you listlessly, in true post-orgasm-clarity fashion. steve's grunts grow louder and more ravenous, until he eventually reaches his own orgasm. he pulls out of you and spills his seed all over your lower body. steve sits down on his knees at the edge of the mattress while you lay there, crying and shaking.

"i might have to keep you two," he says, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf smut #fnaf x reader #steve raglan #william afton #william afton x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #well.#at least mike comes in this one

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springlockscars · 6 months

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office after hours (w. afton/fem!reader)

pairing: william afton | steve raglan/fem!reader content tags: age gap, size kink, praise kink, overstimulation, cockwarming (if you squint), riding, multiple orgasms, rough sex summary: "steve" and you take advantage of the privacy his office provides after hours. word count: 2,662 read on AO3

18+ content below cut. minors do not interact.

note: so many pet names used I'm sorry. there isn't necessarily a plot here and I have no idea if I'll continue this or write a beginning part, lmk! based on a dream I had no word of a lie. enjoy ♡

“O-oh! That's it baby girl.. Just like that...” William moans and tilts his head back, resting it on the back of his office chair.

Your breath comes in shallow pants as you glide yourself back and forth over his rock-hard cock. You could feel every ridge and vein between your legs, bumping your clit as you moved.

William's shirt unbuttoned, tie discarded, his slacks un-buckled and dropped all the way down to his shins. You, completely bare on top of him, coating his length with your wetness at an agonisingly teasing pace.

William's hands grip your hips with enough force to bruise as he relishes in the divine pleasure you're both experiencing. You feel sweat begin to roll down your back as your neediness grows.

“C'mere,” William says in a breathless grunt, looking down at where he lies between your legs. He takes your hips in his vice-like grip and drags your soaking wet entrance all the way to the tip of his cock. He pushes you backwards again, his tip slowly stretching you.

The pressure you feel is unlike anything you've ever experienced before.

“Ah!” You gasp, “it-it's too big!” Gripping onto his shirt and squirming in his lap.

William just presses you down onto his cock more, and more, grunting with every twitch of your body. His head rolls back against his chair again, moaning through gritted teeth.

“So tight,” he lets out a shuddering breath, “oh my baby bunny is so tight for me.”

You seriously don't think it'll fit, especially with no other preparation beforehand.

Gasping and writhing in his grip, you feel his hot breath against your neck as the pressure builds to an unbearably uncomfortable level.

“A-ah! fuck please, it's too m-mu- ah!” You choke on your words as you finally feel the tip of his hard length push through and gain entry. Crying out, you collapse and rest your head on his shoulder.

William shushes you, running his large, rough hands up your thighs to caress your small, pert buttocks before running them back down your thighs again “Shh bunny, shh. It's ok. You're doing so well, I knew you could do it,” his hands stroke up to your hips to resume his grip.

“It's like you were made for me,” he whispers against your neck.

He pulls you up, slowly, as though he were about to pull out what little of him had entered entirely. Only to push you back down on his cock, forcing it to enter deeper inside your walls.

Still with your head buried in his shoulder you try to rock your hips to match the movements he's making. Each downward stroke letting him reach deeper and deeper inside you while simultaneously pulling high pitched whines from your mouth.

“Oh.. My girl.. You're doing so well. Taking me so well... So good for me,” he nips and licks down the side of your throat to your shoulder. Nuzzling his nose into your neck and inhaling your scent.

All you can do is choke out a moan in response.

He continues working you down his length, the stretch burning and the pressure inside building more and more.

I don't know if I can take much more. You think to yourself, how much more is there...

You knew he was big after he ordered you on your knees to free him from the constraints of his slacks. Telling you exactly how to run your small hands up and down his length before impatiently pulling you off the ground to sit on his lap and make his cock slick with your wetness. The only preparation made before he tried to bury himself deep inside you.

“Ugh.. That's it my bunny... almost.. there,” William pants as his length reaches deeper and deeper with every stroke.

He once again lifts you with ease almost fully off his cock before pulling you back down agonisingly slow. He does it again, but this time you feel the tops of his thighs brush your backside. “You're taking me so well. Taking my cock so well,” he groans as he pulls you down one final time, sitting completely on his lap with his length entirely buried inside you.

The feeling of fullness is indescribable.

He pushes you off his shoulder to look in your face, stroking your damp hair back and taking your chin in his hand. ”How does it feel baby?” he asks, eyes burning with lust.

all you can do in response is pant and grip what remains of his clothes.

“Has my baby gone dumb?” He strokes your cheek with his thumb, “has my cock made you speechless?”

Truth be told, the feeling of your tight walls pulsing around him has him feeling drunk too. Gone are the days where William could only imagine stuffing you full of his cock until you cried. He has you now. And he'll take you whenever he wants.

William brings his hands down your neck to your breasts with a feather light touch. Cupping them, rolling and pinching your nipples to hard points as you sit there, fully sheathed on his cock. He situates his hands down at your waist, stroking your skin gently with his thumbs while he watches you sit there with your completely blissed out expression.

Mine. He thinks. All mine.

He tightens his grip, drawing your attention. “Baby,” he smiles when your eyes meet his, a dark grin twisting across his features, “I'm going to fuck you now,” he states.

With that being his only warning, he lifts you again effortlessly upwards and almost entirely off his cock, before slamming you back down.

Crying out and arching your back, your nerves feel like they're on fire from the sensation. William continues his assault on your pussy, his hips snapping upwards into yours repeatedly and forcefully. All you can do is cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Your hands gripping his arms as your head falls backwards, overstimulated and completely drunk on the pleasure he's giving you.

William lets out a ragged moan, feeling your walls spasm as he pounds you relentlessly, again and again. Your breasts jiggling with nipples hard right in front of his face. He looks down to where your bodies connect, feeling a surge of pleasure go straight to his groin at the sight of his cock penetrating you over and over.

“Oh... my bunny... so good. You feel so good.”

His praise joining the sounds of your moans, and the sound of his thighs slapping against yours to echo through his office. Good thing you were the only ones in the building.

Tears burned in your eyes from the overstimulation, spilling down your cheeks and dripping down to your breasts. The sight made William even more turned on, grunting with every thrust up into your tight, bruised pussy.

“a-ah... ohhh.. m'god... unfff- ah!” Your incoherent sounds like a chant encourage him on, his thrusts never slowing. He's animalistic, the beads of sweat dripping down his forehead mixing with your own in the valley between your breasts. He leans forward to capture a nipple in his mouth, maintaining his pace. The taste on his tongue a salty mix of your sweat and tears.

You throw one arm around the back of his neck and bury your fingers in his hair as he repeatedly sucks and bites at your breast enough to bruise. You'd be covered in them by morning. Markings to show you off as his.

He moves to give the other breast the same attention, the same bright red-purple marks, before pulling away and leaning back in his chair again to watch you ride.

“Do you like this, hm?” He asks, grunting, “do you like the way my cock feels inside you?”

All you can do is grasp at the back of his neck and at his hand on your waist. His pace still doesn't relent as you continue to moan, your voice becoming hoarse.

“Does it feel good my little bunny? Riding me like this... I-ahh... You're just so tight. You feel so good.. feels so good.. and tight around me...”

You can feel the burning ache low in your tummy get stronger and stronger. Your hands grasping at William desperately as he just keeps roughly pounding you.

The feeling tightens and tightens, your cries choked out becoming higher. Until you feel it snap inside as you lose all control and spasm around William's cock. Your back arched, your legs shaking, digging your nails into his skin so hard you're surprised it doesn't break.

“Unfff...Fuck. That's it baby girl, that's it... Come for me baby, come on my cock,” your walls rapidly squeezing him is a feeling William never wants to forget, bringing him closer to the edge of his own orgasm.

He maintains his pace, not slowing for a second to let you ride out your orgasm. His large hands pulling you down on his cock harder than ever before.

“St-stop!” you cry, “S'too m-much- ah!” The overstimulation making you feel like you're one of his machines short circuiting. You continue to spasm in his lap as he intensifies his thrusts. Tears prick at the edges of your eyes and spill down your cheeks. It's too much.

William, panting himself now, solidifies his grip on your body. “S-so good.. my bunny... So good for me...” Reaching the climax of his own orgasm his thoughts are completely lost on you, only using your body to reach his high.

His unrelenting assault on your body brings the warm ache deep inside you back once again. Your moans going from breathless heaving to shallow cries, feeling the tightness peaking.

You claw at any part of William your hands will reach. His neck, his shirt damp with sweat, his toned biceps down to his hands in their death grip on your flesh.

The pleasure becoming too much as you cry out his name, and feel the snap inside you, once again sending spasms throughout your entire body as William holds you firm. You can't tell if your vision faded or if you have your eyes closed.

Your walls clenching uncontrollably around William's cock a second time are enough to send him over the edge of his own orgasm. He slams your hips down against his one last time before finally stilling. He rests his forehead against your heaving chest as you feel him twitch deep, his hips rocking as he comes inside you, breathing sharp through his gritted teeth.

Until he finally sighs.

He relaxes his grip on your waist, head falling back against his chair once again.

Your mouth hangs agape as you feel the electric shocks of your second orgasm dissipate throughout your entire body, calming to a dull buzz.

William runs his hands up and down your sides in a soothing motion, pulling you into his chest. Your wet skin pressed against his as you fully relax against him. He strokes your back as both of your breathing settles to a normal pace. Relishing in the post orgasm bliss.

“You did so well for me my baby bunny,” he sighs, head tipped up to the ceiling. “So well, I'm so proud of you,” he leans down to pepper light kisses against your neck.

The adrenaline vanishing from your body, your eyelids grow heavy. You hum in appreciation of his praise and settle in closer in his embrace.

“Tired?” William asks, “c'mon, we can't sleep here. The cleaners are coming in early tomorrow and you know we can't be caught in here.”

He places one last kiss to your jawline as he encourages you back up to a sitting position. His cock still buried to the hilt inside you. You rub your eyes and sigh. William rests his hands on your hips once again and pouts, “I really did tire you out, hm?” he leans in and connects his lips to yours, sighing into the kiss.

William takes your hips firmly in his hands and raises you up off his now softening length. You gasp at the quick movement and the sudden loss of the full feeling you had become accustomed to. He takes his chance to deepen the kiss, pressing his tongue against yours and completely dominating your mouth as you whimper against his lips.

William pulls back, feeling a surge of pride at your expression. Eyes half closed, a picture of bliss.

“Can you stand?” He asks as he lifts your small frame from his lap. Your legs shakily extend beneath you and tremble when they try to take your weight. “C'mere, hold on,” he places your hands on his shoulders as he retrieves your panties from where they were discarded on the floor. He helps you step into them and pulls them swiftly up your legs and over your ass. William strokes his thumbs over your hip bones and presses a couple of kisses to your abdomen.

“Here, sit there while I get our things,” William guides you backwards to sit on the edge of his desk, the wood cold against your backside.

He pulls his own slacks back up his legs, tucking himself back into his underwear and buckling his belt. He leans back in his chair and begins to button his shirt, eyes raking over you perched on his desk like you’re his prey.

How did I get so lucky... William thinks to himself.

Before getting halfway through the buttons, he realises that this shirt is far too soiled to wear in the car.

He stands from his desk chair and retrieves another shirt from the locker in the corner of the room. William was no stranger to spending the night in the office when the idea of driving home in the early hours wasn't appealing. Or when the warmth of the whiskey he keeps locked in the bottom drawer of his desk takes hold during a cold night.

He dresses in the clean shirt, collects the soiled one, along with his tie from where it lay on the ground and stuffs them inside his documents bag. William turns his attention back to you, collecting your discarded clothes from the ground too, only to realise the problem you now have.

“Ah... I forgot...” He holds the torn pieces of fabric in his hands, completely unwearable. He may have been too overexcited to get you undressed. Even your bra was ruined, the elastic straps snapped and dangling pathetically. “Mm,” he turns away to stuff your clothes in his bag too.

“Ah!” he grasps his coat from the rack by the door, gesturing you to come over to him with his hand.

You stand on shaky legs, holding onto the edge of the desk before going stand before him, looking up to into his face while wearing only your panties.

William steps closer and wraps his big coat around your bare shoulders, pulling it snug. “Not great... But it'll have to do for the drive home,” he collects your shoes and crouches all the way down to the floor to help you put them on.

“...Home?” you ask.

“Of course baby,” William says as he guides your shoe on your foot, you holding onto his shoulders as he does so, “what like I'm just gonna leave you here, alone and naked in the dark?”

William secures the second shoe and stands back upright, towering down over you. He grasps your chin and tilts your head to look all the way up at him. “You do want to come with me, right?”

You nod quickly, eyes wide and cheeks flushing.

“Excellent,” he grins and strokes your cheek before turning to collect his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Come on, better get out of here before anyone else gets here,” he opens his office door, having a tentative look left and right before guiding you out into the hallway towards the exit.

William flips off the light switch and closes the door to his office softly behind him.

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf smut #five nights at freddy's #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton smut #steve raglan #my works

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months

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How America's oligarchs lull us with the be-your-own-boss fairy tale

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/16/narrative-capitalism/#sell-job

Capitalism is a vibes-based system. Sure, we all know about Keynes's "Animal Spirits" that see "bulls" and "bears" vying to set the market's future, but beyond that, there's just a hell of a lot of narrative.

Writing for The American Prospect, Adam M Lowenstein reviews two books that tell the histories of the stories that are used to sell American capitalism to the American people – the stories that turn workers into "temporarily embarrassed millionaires":

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2024-02-16-stories-corporations-tell-williams-waterhouse-review/

The first of these books is Taming the Octopus: The Long Battle for the Soul of the Corporation, by Kyle Edward Williams, a kind of pre-history of "woke capitalism":

https://wwnorton.com/books/9780393867237

Taming is a history of the low-water marks for Big Business's reputation in America, and how each was overcome through PR campaigns that declared a turning point in which business leaders would pursue the common good, even at the expense of their shareholders' interests.

The story starts in the 1950s, when DuPont and other massive firms had gained a well-deserved reputation as rapacious profit-generation machines that "alienated workers and pushed around small businessmen, investors, and consumers." This prompted DuPont's PR chief, Harold Brayman, to write a memo called "The Attack on Bigness," where he set out a plan to sell America on a new cuddly image for corporate giants.

For Brayman, the problem was that corporate execs were too shy about telling their social inferiors about all the good that businesses did for them: "The businessman is normally reluctant to talk out loud. He frequently shuns the spotlight and is content with plugging his wares, not himself."

This was the starting gun for a charm offensive by American big business that included IBM president Thomas Watson Jr ("I think there is a world market for about five computers") going on a speaking tour organized by McKinsey & Co, where he told audiences that his company's billion dollar annual profits had convinced it to assume "responsibilities for the broader public welfare."

This set the template for a nationwide mania of "business statesmanship" that Fortune celebrated with an editorial announcing "a great transformation, of which the world as a whole is as yet unaware" that put the "profit motive…on its last leg."

Fortune then spent the next seventy years recycling this announcement, every time the tide went out on business's popularity. In 2019, Fortune platformed IBM president Ginni Rometty for an announcement that the company was orienting its priorities to the public good: "It’s a question of whether society trusts you or not. We need society to accept what it is that we do."

The occasion for Rometty's quote was a special package on the Trump tax-cuts, a trillion-dollar gift to American big business, which lobbyists for the Business Roundtable celebrated with an announcement that American capitalism would now serve "stakeholders" (not just shareholders). Fortune celebrated this "change" as "fundamental and profound."

Fast forward five years and corporate leaders are still telling stories, this time about "stakeholder capitalism" and "ESG" – the dread "woke capitalism" that has right-wing swivel-eyed loons running around, hair afire, declaring the end of capitalism.

For Williams and Lowenstein (and me), all this ESG, DEI, and responsible capitalism is just window dressing, a distraction to keep the pitchforks and torches in people's closets, and to keep the guillotines in their packaging. The right-wing is doing a mirror-world version of liberals who freak out when OpenAI claims to have built a machine that will pauperize every worker – assuming that a PR pitch is the gospel truth, and then repeating it in criticism. Criti-hype, in other words:

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

Think of ESG: the right is freaking out that ESG is harming shareholders by leaving hydrocarbons in the ground to appease climate-addled greenies. The reality is that ESG is barely disguised greenwashing, and it's fully compatible with burning every critter that died in the Mesozoic, Cenozoic, and lo, even the Paleozoic:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/15/sanctions-financing/#profiteers

The reason this tactic is so successful is that Americans have also been sold another narrative: that American problems are solved by American individuals as entrepreneurs and businesspeople, not as polities or as members of a union (let alone the working class!).

This is the subject of the second book Lowenstein reviews, One Day I’ll Work for Myself: The Dream and Delusion That Conquered America, by Benjamin Waterhouse:

https://wwnorton.com/books/one-day-ill-work-for-myself/

A keystone of American narrative capitalism is the idea that the USA is a nation of small businesspeople, Jeffersonian yeoman farmsteaders of the US economy. But even a cursory examination shows that the country is ruled – economically and politically – by very large firms.

Uber sells itself as a way to be your own boss ("No shifts. No boss. No limits.") – even though it's a system where the app is your boss, and thanks to that layer of misdirection, Uber gets to be the worst conceivable boss, while its workers have no recourse in labor law:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

In labor fights, Uber represents itself as the champion of innumerable "small businesspeople" who drive its unlicensed taxis. In consumer protection fights, Amazon claims to be fighting for "small businesspeople" who sell on its platform. In privacy fights, Facebook claims to represent "small businesspeople" who buy its surveillance advertising.

But large firms are actively hostile to small firms, seeing them as small-fry to be rooked or destroyed (recall that when Amazon targeted small publishers for bankruptcy-level discounts, they called the program "The Gazelle Project" and Bezos told his executives to tackle these firms "the way a cheetah pursues a sickly gazelle").

Decades of this tale have produced "a profound shift from a shared belief that individuals might come together to solve problems, into a collective faith in individual effort." America's long love-affair with rugged individualism was weaponized in the 1970s by corporations seeking to shed their regulatory obligation to workers, customers, and the environment.

As with Big Tech today, the big business lobby held up mom-and-pop businesses as the true beneficiaries of deregulation, even as they knifed these firms. A telling anecdote comes from someone who worked for the Chamber of Commerce's magazine Nation's Business: when this editor pointed out that many of the magazine's subscribers were small businesspeople and asked if they could start including articles relevant to mom-and-pops, the editor in chief said, "Over my dead body."

The neoliberal era has been an unbroken string of platitudes celebrating the small business and policies that annihilate their chances against large firms. Ronald Reagan's dewy-eyed hymns to American entrepreneurship sounded nice, but what matters is that he attempted to abolish the Small Business Administration and refused to address the 20,000 attendee "White House Conference on Small Business."

In the years since, American has sacrificed its small businesses while pulling out all the stops – bailouts and tax cuts and elite bankruptcy – to keep its largest firms growing. New regulations like Dodd-Frank were neutered in the name of saving mom-and-pop shops, even though the provisions that were cut already exempted small businesses.

Today, millions of Americans are treading water in a fetid stew of LLC-poisoning, rise-and-grind, multi-level-marketing, dropshipping and gig-work, convinced that the only way to get a better life is to pull themselves up by their bootstraps:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/10/declaration-of-interdependence/

Narrative does a lot of work here. The American economy runs on bubbles, another form of narrative capitalism. Take AI, a subject I sincerely wish I could stop hearing about, not least because I'm certain that 99% of that thinking is being wasted on whatever residue remains after the bubble pops:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

AI isn't going to do your job, but its narrative may convince your boss to fire you and replace you with a bot that can't do your job. Like what happened when Air Canada hired a chatbot to answer customer inquiries and it started making shit up about bereavement discounts that the company later claimed it didn't have to honor:

https://bc.ctvnews.ca/air-canada-s-chatbot-gave-a-b-c-man-the-wrong-information-now-the-airline-has-to-pay-for-the-mistake-1.6769454

This story's been all over the news for the past couple of days, but so far as I've seen, no one has pointed out the seemingly obvious inference that this chatbot probably ripped off lots of people. The victim here was extraordinarily persistent, chasing a refund for 10 weeks and then going to the regulator. This guy is a six-sigma self-advocate – which implies a whole bell-curve's worth of comparatively normal people who just ate the shit-sandwich Air Canada fed them.

The reason AI is a winning proposition for Air Canada isn't that it can do a customer service rep's job – it can't. But the AI is a layer of indirection – like the app that is the true boss of Uber drivers – that lets Air Canada demoralize the customers it steals from into walking away from their losses.

Nevertheless, the narrative that AI Will Change Everything Forever is powerful – more powerful than AI itself, that's for sure. Take this Bloomberg headline: "Nearly all wealth gained by world's rich this year comes from AI":

https://www.business-standard.com/world-news/nearly-all-wealth-gained-by-world-s-rich-this-year-comes-from-ai-124021600006_1.html

Dig in and you find even more narrative. The single largest beneficiary of AI stock gains last year was Mark Zuckerberg ($161B!). Zuck is American Narrative Capitalism's greatest practitioner: the guy who made billions peddling a series of lies, from "pivot to video" to "metaverse," leaping from one lie to the next just ahead of the mass stock-selloffs that wiped out lesser predators.

The Narrative Capitalism Cinematic Universe has a lot of side-plots like AI and entrepreneurship and woke capitalism, but its main narrative arc was articulated, ad nauseum, by Margaret Thatcher: "There is no alternative." This is the most important part of the story, the part that says it literally can't be otherwise. The only way to organize society is through markets, and the only way to organize markets is to leave them alone, no matter how much suffering they cause.

This is a baffling story, because it's so easily disproved. Zuck says the only way to have friends is to let him surveil you from asshole to appetite, even though he once ran Facebook as the privacy-forward alternative to MySpace, and promised never to spy on you:

https://lawcat.berkeley.edu/record/1128876

Likewise, the business leaders – and their chorus of dutiful Renfields – who insist that monopoly is the natural and inevitable outcome of any market economy just handwave away the decades during which anti-monopoly enforcement actually kept most businesses from getting too big to fail and too big to jail.

I'm no champion of market efficiency – especially not as the best and final arbiter of social and economic questions – but when I hear my comrades repeating the Thatcherite claims that all forms of capitalism necessarily degrade into monopolistic quagmires, that there is no alternative, it sounds like more criti-hype.

This is a frequent point of departure during discussions of enshittification: some people dismiss the whole idea of enshittification as "just capitalism." But we had decades of digital services that either didn't degrade, or, when they did, were replaced by superior competitors with a minimum of switching costs for users who migrated from the decaying incumbent to greener pastures.

The reality is that while there are problems with all forms of capitalism, there are different kinds of capitalist problems, and some forms of capitalism are less harmful to working people and more capable of enacting and enforcing sound policy than others.

Enshittification is what happens when the constraints on the worst impulses of companies and their investors and managers are removed. When a company doesn't have competitors, when it can capture its regulators to trample our rights with impunity, when it can enlist those regulators to shut down would-be competitors who might free us from its "walled garden," and when it can fire any worker who refuses to enact harm upon the users they serve, then that company will enshittify:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

A company can be made to treat you well, even if it is run by a wicked person who sees you as a mark to be fleeced – that mustache twirler just has to be constrained – by competition, regulation, self-help and labor. He may still hate you and wish you harm, but he won't be able to act on it.

As MLK said:

It may be true that the law cannot make a man love me, religion and education will have to do that, but it can restrain him from lynching me. And I think that's pretty important also. And so that while legislation may not change the hearts of men, it does change the habits of men. And we see this every day.

#pluralistic #narrative capitalism #oligarchy #temporarily embarrassed millionaires #late-stage capitalism #enshittification #disenshittification #vocational awe #fobazi ettarh #ai #bubbles #bubblenomics #rise and grind #Benjamin C. Waterhouse #One Day I’ll Work for Myself #Kyle Edward Williams #Taming the Octopus #woke capitalism #llcs with mfas

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thebuhonerodazorrow · 1 year

Photo

Tales from the crypt (Cuentos de la cripta)

Volumen 2 Castellano

#23 Farsante (Ceance)

EC comics

#EC comics #comics #comics en español #dark horse #Creepshow #crypt keeper #tales from the crypt #William M Gaines #Marie Severin #Joe Dante #Santiago Garcia #horror comics #Tales of The Crypt #comics books #60s #60s comics

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romana-after-dark · 4 months

Text

Room's on Fire Masterlist

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Years after the world fell apart, various communities have established themselves, one of which is ran by four men who claim to be divine.

When they decide it's time to and heir to be born, they chose a virgin from their cult and make her their wife. Reader is offered a choice, of course. She doesn't have to marry them. But if she doesn't, the savior won't be born. She choses to become the Madonna. She is wed to all four of them, and moved into their home where her body is open to use whenever her husbands desire (free use au), in the hopes of getting her pregnant. It doesn't matter whose baby it ends up being, because they are all part God, so it doesn't matter... right?

Warnings for full fic, if anything is added or really emphcized it will be in additional warnings.

THIS IS A DARK FIC THOUGH SO BE WARY! I CAN'T PROTECT AGAINST EVERYTHING.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Unknown amount of chapters right now.

Chapter 1: Pilot: Delta finds their Madonna Chapter 2: The wedding Chapter 3: Aftermath of the wedding FishBen: Symptom of Being Human Chapter 4: Pope is not pleased. Chapter 5: Jonah lore, Madonna gets through to Frankie Chapter 6: Madonna gains Frankie's heart, Santi is jealous Iris: Rey and Iris find pockets of time Chapter 7: Fun with Ben: wining Pope back Chapter 8: big announcement to the community

Non canon Frankie Madonna Chapter 9: Madonna’s blissful ignorance to the world around her. Chapter 10: There's a lot Madonna doesn't know.

Chapter 11: Things start to crumble around Madonna

Chapter 12:

Chapter 13:

Chapter 14:

Chapter 15:

Chapter 16:

Chapter 17:

Chapter 18:

Chapter 19:

Chapter 20:

Bonus Content

not necessary for the series. Pieces in the main list are suggested as they add depth and sometimes small plot points.

"Can you peel my orange?" Jonah smut

Jonah Hanson character ai

ROF characters Star signs

Jonah x non-Madonna reader x Marcus flashback commission

Art

By @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

By @survivingandenduring

Lil comic by @my-secret-shame

As I said, a lot of themes and dynamics ended up accidentally similarly to Watch Your Step by the amazing @charnelhouse Some was because that fic is what developed my characterizations of the boys. Some was totally incidental, like Pope and readers relation to art. It's different though, a much different series, but I wanted to tell y'all that she s PUBLISHING WYS AS A NOVEL NOW, Its called Cardinal Sin's and I'll link it right here!

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

Follow the tag Rooms on fire

THANK YOU FOR YOU'RE SUPPORT!

Please remember to reblog, and I love comments/asks, anon or not, and would love to see engagement and theories!

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nfcomics · 7 months

Text

Tales from the Crypt Vol.1 no.42 • cover art • Jack Davis [June 1954]

Concerto for Violin and Werewolf • artist • Jack Davis A violinist who has read Midnight Mess in Tales from the Crypt #35 suspects that the Transylvania town he has come to visit his old teacher in has a werewolf infestation problem, but his suspicions do not go deep enough, as he overlooks his teacher who replaces his submachine gun with a violin.

#Tales from the Crypt Vol.1 no.42 #Jack Davis #Al Feldstein #William M. Gaines #Tales From the Crypt

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forthelostones · 8 months

Text

♡ black female reader x ellie williams (part one) ♡

synopsis: ellie is your TA for your english lecture at university and she pulls you aside for revision.

warnings. 18+ (mdni); switch!reader x switch!ellie, teasing, fingering, female cunnilingus, degradation, small boob appreciation, and n!pple play.

an: hi everyone! this is my first idek what this is called when i was coming up "one shot".... (is that even a thing anymore?). i am super nervous about this! but please enjoy x.

wc: 2.2k

PART TWO

It was the last few months at university and you were getting entirely tired of your English lecture. Your professor talked slowly, and quietly, and pointed out the obvious connections within the simple texts. You felt as if you were far too advanced for this 300-level college course. You answered all the questions, understood what the “deep” metaphors were, and made A’s on every paper. The only thing that kept you interested was the TA who graded all those papers. Ellie Williams was a senior English major with a specialty in Print Media. You heard stories about her, glanced at her from a distance, and saw her around but you could never gain the courage to speak to her outside of class.

She sat in the corner, near the lecture podium, with her auburn hair pulled back, and a pencil tucked behind her ear as she looked out onto the hall. She sat slouched with her legs spread open, one foot taping the ground slowly, and the occasional eye roll at a stupid question.

As you sat listening to the room share their perspectives on a Shakespearean text, you took quick glances at her over the corner of your laptop. Today she was wearing a loose, red, long-sleeve shirt, exposing her forearms. Her right arm was adorned with faded black ink that traveled all the way up her shoulder. The warmth that traveled to your cheeks fell between your thighs, as your eyes focused on her fingers that were now swirling that same pencil in a rhythmic motion.

“Have a great weekend.” Your professor nearly shouted startling you.

Your chest caved-in and your eyes bugged outward, you felt a nick of embarrassment hoping no one saw your body jolt. You close your laptop and see Ellie crack a smirk as she walks over to you.

What could she want, you think.

“Sorry y/n, I couldn’t get around to emailing you last night, but Professor said I should help you with your upcoming essay.”

Her low voice echoed in the now empty hall.

“Oh? Really? Sure. I thought my draft was pretty good but—”

“It’s not that you’re being singled out, I have to work with everyone on theirs.” She interjected.

That knot of embarrassment in your chest tightened as you saw no sincerity in her sage eyes.

“It’s last minute but it won’t take long. We can go to the office and work on it a little or we can reschedule, up to you.” She shrugged.

You pause in an attempt to act like you’re thinking. It’s Friday night, you should have something to do, but you don’t. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

You gather all your things and follow behind her into your professor's office, just across the hall. In front of you were the large floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the crowded quad lawn. Students soaking up the sun and lying in the grass chatting with their friends. The other walls were covered in bookshelves with every academic book you could ever imagine. She sat her bag down and pulled out your pristine rough draft, which was now slightly crumbled.

“Hm,” slipped out.

“What?” She asked smugly.

“It’s just my paper was kind of thrown into your bag like… shit.”

“Oh, sorry.” She says attempting to smooth it out by placing it on her chest and using her palms.

She sat next to you in the large armed chair, her knees practically touching yours through her black jeans. Electricity sparked as you came in slight contact with her body. Her hands adjusted to the corners of your paper, her fingers fiddling between each page, spreading them open and moving up and down. You noticed all the notes and corrections she made, the red pen she used scribbled out sentences, rewrote phrases, and small notes on the margins like ‘too wordy’.

“Are you sure this is my paper?” You asked, snatching it from beneath her hands.

“Read it. Y/N, How Shakespeare Altered The English Language.” She read.

“You scribbled out my title too?”

Your hands became damp with nervous anger. You were top of your class, your professors adore your writing and now a TA just a year above tells you how you’re falling short.

“It was boring.” She said plainly.

“Simple language is good. It’s easier for people like you to understand.”

You face her and notice how defined her freckles are. How full her lips are and you unfurl your eyebrows as you realize how close you are to her face.

She snorted. “People like me? You mean the person who grades your shitty papers every other week? Who can absolutely give you any grade I want, that person?”

You stutter in an attempt to get words out, but you know she’s right. She could tank your grades if she wanted to. Her face turns upwards in a challenge.

“So now my papers are shitty? They’re shitty now?”

Your two bodies are now completely turned towards each other, knees touching, and eyes locked. The air becomes thick when she doesn’t reply. Adrenaline rushes to your head quickly, as someone who regularly avoids conflicts this feeling is overwhelming.

“If you read the notes… maybe you would understand. Clearly you don’t have the capacity to even do that.” She smiled.

She thought this was funny, seeing you flustered, in a hard spot where you couldn’t comprehend why you were being judged so harshly.

“I want so see everyone else’s papers.” You asked.

“What?”

“I want to see how much editing you did to others.”

You stand up and grab her bag and run your hands through it, before you could pull anything out, she jumps up and grasps your wrist with surprising strength. Your heart beats violently as her she pulls your hand away from the fabric of her bag. As she shoves you away, the junk falls out onto the floor.

“Really?” She muttered and stuffed her items back inside.

She gave you her signature eye roll and huffed as she ‘reorganized’ her stuff. As she stood up she walks towards you without saying a word. Her eye contact burnt you as they became low with anger.

“Ellie.” You sigh.

You feared that she’d use her strength against you.

“Y/N, there are no other papers,” She smirked. “For someone so smart you can be so dumb.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you heard her words. You peered over her shoulder, quickly observing the bright windows, afraid to be seen.

Her fingertips wrap around your waist softly, pulling your closer to her hips. Your lips pursed tightly together as you fought to speak.

“So you lied to get me alone?” You asked.

“Can you keep up?” She tugged at you a little more. Naturally, your body resists her touch, but you became so wet at her criticism of your intelligence.

“I can.” You reply sorely.

Her hand slowly rises up your back, tracing your spine.

“The thing is, you always leave class so fast. Rushing out. I never could catch you even if I tried.”

Her fingers do a dance under your shirt and the coolness of them startles you. Then bring her palms down to your ass, which made you moan, surprising the both of you.

“What can I say, I’m busy.” You lie.

You spent your nights in your apartment reading and watching the same movies. Sometimes you’d think of Ellie and recall her face from class if she saw you laying in bed, practically naked.

“Busy? I don’t know if I believe that.” She challenged with a grin.

She unclipped your bra skillfully with one hand. You gasped at the release of tension, you pushed your pelvis against hers, you were so close you felt her chest rise and fall.

“What’s not to believe? I’m top of my class, President of—“

“Don’t care,” She interrupted.

Her lips came one inch from yours and all you could feel is her breath graze your lips. Her eyes jolt down to the valley of your cupids bow, which made her swipe her lips with her tongue.

“I love your lips Y/N.”

“Why don’t you taste them then?”

She leaned closer but did not come in contact, her hands rubbed up towards your loosened bra and came in contact with your hard, brown nipples. She circled around them gently.

“And give you the satisfaction after you insulted my intelligence?” She grimaced.

You pushed her away and clipped your bra back and headed towards the desk to grab your things. She looked surprised as you gather yourself to head for the door. As you bent over the chair, she came behind you and thrust herself onto you. That tattooed hand slithered up your body, to your throat, and pulled you back into her body.

“Do act so coy Y/N. The way you stare at me when I spread my legs open, when my fingers glide against papers, and when I show my arms you can’t help but stare.”

Her hand travels to your pants, undos your button, and dips her fingers into your soaked panties. You gasp at the firmness of her calloused fingertips. You push your ass into her hips and feel her pelvis brush against you, she likes to feel you from this angle.

“So?” You fought to say through moans.

“So, fuck me Y/N. Why do you have to be so stuck up?”

Her fingers traced your slit, plunging deeper into the slick she was responsible for. She pulled her hands out, dripping with your desire, and she raised them to your lips. She took her other hand and grabbed your jaw gently causing your mouth to open. She slipped her fingers in your mouth making you taste yourself. You wrapped your tongue around her thick fingers, unafraid of anyone who could see inside, you felt pure ecstasy of hearing her moans as you fulfilled her fantasy.

You turned around to face her and finally kissed her. Her lips were soft with lust and her tongue slipped quickly into your mouth. She pushed your back into the desk, gripping your thighs to hoist you up on top, her strength shocked you. She wrapped her hands around your hips and pulled you deeper into her mouth. Your hands naturally fell around her waist and unbuckled her belt and desperately reached for her core.

She pulled her shirt up to reveal her bare chest. You always noticed her perky nipples, wondering about her crude disposition against bras, you weren’t complaining though. She forced a nipple in your mouth and commanded you to suck. She grabs the back of your head and pulls you in more. They were the perfect size, smaller, but perfect to suck hands-free. She restrained her moans as your teeth wrapped around her flesh. You can tell she never could give up being in control, the stories confirm that. Always on top, always servicing others, so your image of her was different than the view here.

“What if someone sees?” You ask nervously.

“Windows are shaded from the outside.” She said as she used her arm to clean the desk.

She pushed you back and began to lay warm kisses on your belly. You tuck your hands in her scalp when she gripped your wrist and slams it into the desk. You groan in pain but it excites you.

Her fingers hook into the loops of your jeans and pulls them down. Her hand palms your warm panties and brushes upwards, you try not to show how much you need her, but she presses harder.

“Say it.” She probes.

“What? That I want you?” You ask.

“Say it.”

You don’t reply and she pulls your panties off aggressively and brings her lips to yours. She starts kissing your pussy so passionately you imagine you could cum from that.

She lifts her head, “Watch me.”

The tip of her tongue and dipped it into your crease, searching for your clit. Once she finds it, she takes her fingers and spreads you wide open. Her tongue enters inside of you and your back arches into her. Your body waves up and down from desperation, you know she posses more than she’s leading on. She gets a good rhythm going and feels you dripping down her chin, she stops. Leaving your body twitching from frustration.

You stood up dripping, reaching for her.

“Y/N, say you need me.” She commanded as she was reaching to slip her shirt back on.

“I need you Ellie.” You break.

You dropped to your knees tugging at the waistline of her jeans, pulling them down with her underwear. She was drenched too, so turned on from touching you. You dug your face into her wetness, your tongue meeting her delicious taste, sweet and warm, sliding down your throat. You bring your middle and ring finger to her entrance and she sighs out of pure passion. As you entered her, you felt her fingers gripping your shoulder, and her grunts tickled your brain. You arched your fingers inside of her and worked your tongue around her clit in circles.

“Fuck.” She moaned.

Her panting got deeper, faster, and her nails pinched into your skin. You sucked at her clit to bring her to a climax. As you pulled your fingers out her stickiness strung from her core and straight into your mouth.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #lesbian #ellie williams smut #tlou2 ellie #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x fem reader #ta!ellie williams #x black fem reader #x black reader

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supermarketbae · 10 months

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Heyyy, I just found you and followed❤️ could I request a billy Hargrove x reader where they argue one night and so she goes and stays the night with Eddie and somehow billy finds out where she’s at and shows up in the middle of the night and is like fuck no she’s mine and then him and Eddie argue over her and whatever else you wanna add and end how you want ofc I’m just a sucker for jealous/ angry billy

Omgg!! Hello lovelyyyy! I appreciate the follow!! thanks so much for requesting!

anddddd i made a tiny ittyyy bitty tweak to this because I felt like a little bit of angst today (sorry in advance)

warnings: Jealous!Billy, billy thinks reader is cheating, yelling, slight* panic attack for Billy (idk not really but), fluff, angst, hurt comfort :)

Some Things, Will Never Change.

You were dreaming. You just had to be. In no universe would Billy just accuse you of cheating so blatantly. You thought you had gained his trust, but apparently, old habits die hard. "I can't believe you." Billy seethes pacing in the kitchen slamming the refrigerator door open. You winced, annoyed at the noise that echoed through the dim house, When you had got home from your summer job at the arcade, You decided to pay Billy a visit. You were starting to regret that decision. "Believe what." You spit out starting to get angry at the haughty tone he was using towards you. "You playing around." Billy says eyes narrowed. "Don't think I haven't seen you flirting with that FREAK Munson." Billy growls, throwing his soda can on the table. You sigh as it bursts, eyes following the trail of carmel liquid to the floor. "I wasn't flirting Billy, He came in searching for Max and her friends, he couldn't find them so he asked me." You grit.

"You know, asking like a sensible adult. Like you should be about this situation." You say eerily calm. Billy's anger lights up like a firework at the insult. "fuck off," he growls again. "Maybe if ya didn't parade yourself around I wouldn't have to worry." Your eyes widen at his vulgar sentence. "Shut up." Your mouth hangs open "William Hargrove, don't you dare act like you don't flirt with every single fucking girl in our fucking school. AND don't you fucking dare act like I don't fucking tolerate your dumbass shit." Your screaming now. Not one to back down from mistreatment from anyone, even your boyfriend. "Then for shit's sake leave if you don't like it!" Billy shouts at you seeing nothing but red. "Don't let the door hit you in your fucking ass on the way out either!" He roars as you grab your purse and slam the door hard on the way out.

Your tearing up slightly as you get in your car. Who knows how many miles above the speed limit your driving, but your route takes you to one of your closest friend's home, who also happens to be the cause of the argument... Eddie. Knocking on his trailer door you hear a drowsy "It's open" rouse from beyond the door. Eddie's honeyed eyes light up as you drag yourself in, but quickly dim noticing you're crying. "oh my god, sweetheart what's wrong?" you sniffle louder as he calls you the pet name Billy usually does. As he pulls you into his arms, you are reminded of how Billy's frame feels wrapped around yours, and you start bawling. The whole shebang. Complete waterworks in Eddie's arms while he tries to comfort you. "Billy-mfg-Billy hates m-me" You hiccup out.

Eddie smiles bitterly. "oh honey..." Eddie trails off not knowing what to say. "Can I just... stay here." You cut off his pitiful comfort attempt quickly, feeling like a burden already. Eddie fumbles on his words, scratching his head awkwardly as he nods "Shit-of course-uh-hell-I don't really have an extra bed or anything but I can uhm- sleep on the couch... yeah." You laugh softly at his ramble. "I'm not a princess Eddie," you sigh, "I can sleep on the couch it's fine, truly." you continue as you see a look of protest on his face. He shakes his head "I'm trying to be a gentleman here excuse you." Eddie grins boyishly, and you don't know why. It could be nerves. It could be the emotional buildup from tonight. But your heart leaps. swoons even. And with a sickening resolve, you realize Billy's argument had, unfortunately, made valid sense. However, shaking your head at the thought, you let Eddie drag you towards his room to pick out a movie to watch.

Eddie's company had proven beneficial to your mood. A mere hour into the movie and your mind was elsewhere, far away from the argument you had with Billy as you two joked about last school year, munching on various health deleterious snacks that were found in Eddie's fridge. "And then she had the AUDACITY to call me 'late for class' and told me that I had to retake the whole course!" Eddie yells in indignation as you clutch your sides from laughter. "You chose to come in through the window Eddie, what was she gonna do? tip her hat and say 'pip pip cheerio' while she was teaching about the American revolution?" You cackle as Eddie slumps back on the couch snickering. Your laughter cuts short as you hear the roar of an engine.

Billy's camaro.

You panic. How could you not. Here you were with the exact boy who had caused the argument. And you knew how Billy would react to such a turn of events. To put it lightly, violence would be involved. Before you can voice your fears however, Eddie's front door slams open. You try to scream as Billy in an angered blur hurls past you and starts throwing punches, tackling Eddie, who is cussing, to the floor. "STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM HER YOU SON OF A BIT-" Billy is cut of when Eddie lands a hard punch to his gut, grimacing as he wipes his bloodied nose. "Dude!" Eddie barks "You're so full of it you don't even know what SHE'S FEELING!" Eddie spins on you pointing trying to reason with him. "I don't even want her like that man. She's your girlfriend dude so how 'bout you BLOODY listen to her feelings maybe then she wouldn't come to me dipshit!" Eddie swears once more as Billy charges at him "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he roars as he takes a winding swing. A sickening crack issues and Eddie falls to the floor holding his nose "Fucking shit Hargrove," Eddie pants from the ground.

You realize your crying when a sob lurches out of you. Hot, thick tears streaming down your face. God how you wished to be anywhere else in the world. far far far away. It's enough to take Billy out of his angered trance, as your breathing comes out in short pants. "leave him alone Billy. I'll come back with you. Hell I don't care, just stop hurting him." you say quietly turning to the door sighing. It hurt really. So much that you couldn't feel as you lurched your way to the car. As you opened the door to leave, you glance back at Billy who's staring wide eyed, almost a look of sickened fear on his face. His usual sun kissed complexion looked paled, and gaunt. "You don't deserve her Hargrove." Eddie's gravelly voice is the last thing you hear before you shut the door behind you and drive back to Billy's house.

You don't look to see If he follows you.

It's late. You knew that for sure. The sun didn't even seem to have set before you were engulfed in a night that matched your feelings. The rain was howling outside as you sat at the lamp lit table in a witchy town you wanted desperately to forget about. The only thing that was making noise in the house was the clock. The dull ticking was a comfort. A reminder to you that some things will never change.

A comfort. you remind yourself closing your eyes. Heaving in a breath you didn't know you were holding.

tick. tick. tick. tick.

It was those four seconds you would remember till the end times.

Those four seconds in which Billy came into the room, looked you in the eyes and then crumbled. Simply melted to the ground, back against the fridge. "I'm so sorry." he said simply. You show no sign of emotion as you are unchanging, and to be frank, unflattered.

As you stiffen.

he notices.

He takes into account that your usual happy, touchy, aura is gone. He realizes he's the one that caused this. He realizes that he could lose one of the only things he's loved. He realizes you could hate him. He realizes you probably do hate him. He realizes he might never feel truly loved again. He realizes that he will never love like this again. He realizes you have been one of the only people to truly care about him. He realizes he has told you his deepest secrets. He realizes how blank your usually love filled stare is. He realizes he hates himself for this. He realizes that it feels like his heart is being ripped out.

The last thing Billy realizes is that he's sobbing.

Crying harder than he's ever cried before. Crying so hard he's shaking. He can't breathe. Why would he want to anyway. Everything hurts. It hurts so so so so bad. He would rather suffocate than lose you. He's hiccuping and thinking of every single time he's done something wrong. It only worsens as he feels your hand rub on his back as you kiss his hair "Your okay my love, it's okay... you need to breathe for me darling... deep breaths." a hard shiver racks his body at your words.

"my love" you had said.

Billy doesn't believe you still love him.

"Please-I" Billy can't get the words out as his throat closes up, hoarse with pain and emotion. The pain increases as you pull him into your chest and he inhales your scent. It feels foreign and familiar all at once.

It feels foreign because he knows he might have to let you go.

"I-I- Don't deserve you- just- I'msorryI'msorry- I hate me so MUCH." Billy sobs into your chest. He flinches as he feels a tear run down his cheek. He's oh so vulnerable. Billy whimpers pathetically into your chest. He doesn't hear the sweet nothings you coo to him as you yourself let tears flow. He's broken. you both know it. There's nothing you can do about it except try to fix the boy in front of you.

And you are.

You're trying so hard to fit the puzzle pieces back together. Billy's breathing evens out as he notices he's not the one shaking anymore. It's you who is rocking him gently in your arms. His eyes flutter as your nails scratch gently at his scalp. "You deserve love Billy." his eyes roll slightly as he hears your honeyed voice. Your voice was addictive, he thought as the thoughts whirring in his brain start to slow. Billy is focusing on the steady beat of your heart. "Let me love you." Your sweet sensual drawl is back. Billy grimaces. Cringing at how much he feels for you right now. "You still love me?" His gravelly even voice startles you. It's deep, milky, and stoic. You would've never guessed he had even cried. "Always." You say pulling him closer to you.

"Forever." You ghost into the quiet room. A small whine graces Billy's parted lips at your words. You made him feel so good. "I love you." comes the deep reply. Billy is looking up at you. Icy darkened eyes concealed by his hooded eyelids. Your mind reels, you think you've forgotten how to breathe. You'd never get used to hearing that from him. It made your heart swell every time he would say it. every. single. time.

"I love you too." you say it full of meaning. It's like a promise. A promise to hold him for as long as he needs. A promise to be there when no one else is. A promise to simply love him. You don't think you could want to promise something more than this.

A calm, needed silence enters the room, as Billy tilts up his head to kiss you. You sigh into the kiss, wanting to get drunk on the feeling of his body against yours. The last thing you allow yourself to think about before you give in to the godly pleasure of Billy, Is the clock.

tick.tick.tick.tick.

Some things, will never change.

And you hoped to God, your love was one of them.

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a/n: IM SOSOSOOSOOSOSO sorry it took this long. first i had a performance to end my acting classes out and after that i had to take a mental health break. I really hope you enjoy!! thank you so much for requesting and reading my love <3

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shewhoworshipscarlin · 2 months

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Anderson Bonner

Prominent Texas landowner and businessman Anderson Bonner was born enslaved in Alabama around 1839. Not much is known about his younger years. Family history states that Bonner was given as a wedding present to the daughter of his former master, who moved him from Alabama to Arkansas. Anderson may have been “refugeed” in Texas during the Civil War when nearly 100,000 enslaved people from neighboring states were forcibly brought there by slaveholders to avoid the Union Army freeing them as it gradually occupied more of the Confederacy. If Bonner was in Texas by 1865, he—like other Lone Star state enslaved people—gained his freedom when Union General Gordon Granger and Union Troops under his command arrived in Galveston on June 19, 1865 and pronounced the end of slavery. That announcement became the basis for the Juneteenth holiday.

Sometime in 1865 Bonner married a woman known only as Eliza. Over time the couple had ten children, Anderson Jr, Newton, William, Ed, John, Andy, Mary, Martha, Charlie and Nash. Bonner arrived in Dallas, Texas, around 1870 with his brother Louis, and sister Caroline and they worked on a farm in the White Rock Creek area. Bonner by this time had acquired modest wealth. The 1870 Census lists his financial worth at $275 or approximately $5,456 in 2020 dollars. On August 10, 1874 Bonner purchased sixty acres of land, signing the deed with an “X”, as he never learned to read or write. He soon began leasing his land and the houses on it to cotton growing sharecroppers. With the money he earned, he bought more land. Bonner eventually amassed over two thousand acres of land in what is now North Dallas and the Dallas suburb of Richardson. The Medical City Dallas Hospital now sits on what was once the Bonner farm and the North Central Expressway divides Bonner’s original property.

Census records in 1900 reveal that six of the ten Bonner children still lived on the Bonner farm. Cotton, corn, and fruits were grown on the family farm worked mostly by Bonner, his children, and sharecroppers. Bonner’s sister, Caroline married into the Fields family, and one of her children married into the Giddings family, both prominent African American families of Dallas in the late 19th Century. In 1903, Eliza was killed in a oil lamp explosion in the family home. Sixty-four-year-old Bonner then married a woman named Lucinda, but the couple had no children.

Anderson Bonner passed away at the age of 82 in 1920. He was buried in White Rock Colored Union Cemetery (now White Rock Garden of Memories Cemetery), in Addison county. His descendants established the Anderson Bonner Endowment Scholarship that helps support Richardson Public School students who attend Prairie View A&M University. The first public school for black children in the North Dallas, the Vickery and Hillcrest school was renamed the Anderson Bonner School before its closing in 1955. The city of Dallas officially named the park west of Medical City Hospital, Anderson Bonner Park in 1976. The park consists of 44.1 acres of Bonner’s original land.

#historical #black history month #land owner #formerly enslaved

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