#despite the fact I still have access to an account I made when i was NINE in 2000 or 2001.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Vizio makes more money spying on people who buy TVs than it does on TVs themselves

In the simplistic account of what many call “surveillance capitalism,” the original sin was swapping our attention for free content, summed up in the pithy phrase, “If you’re not paying for the product, you’re the product.”

That’s a comforting frame if you think that the problem with surveillance capitalism is surveillance, rather than capitalism. If you think that some companies want to make money the honest way, by selling you stuff, while other companies are full of evil wizards who want to spy on you in order to deprive you of free will, then the answer is simple: just pay for stuff, and you’ll be fine.

But time and again, we learn that companies spy on you — and abuse you in other ways — whenever it suits them — even companies that make a lot of noise about how they don’t need to spy on you to make money. If a company has the power to abuse you — because of lock-in, or because someone else is making you use it — and if the company can make money by abusing you, it will abuse you.

Take Microsoft. It’s making a lot of noise right now about how it will beat Facebook to creating the metaverse because people trust the company not to spy on them (this is the same claim they made about their failed search-engine Bing, but whatever).

https://venturebeat.com/2021/11/12/why-microsoft-may-beat-zuckerberg-to-the-metaverse/

Microsoft doesn’t spy on you to show you ads, it’s true. But Microsoft’s work-from-home (AKA live-at-work) suite, Office 365, offers your boss a full-spectrum, asshole-to-appetite surveillance of everything you do:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/25/the-peoples-amazon/#clippys-revenge

They’re not spying on you to show you ads. They’re spying on you to sell products to your asshole boss who values the ability to strip you of your privacy and turn your lockdown life into a dystopian cyberpunk hellscape. This is a profitable angle, and Microsoft just announced a suite of expanded surveillance capabilities:

https://winbuzzer.com/2021/11/08/microsoft-365-to-add-increased-employee-surveillance-through-microsoft-edge-xcxwbn/

Microsoft is not a privacy-respecting company. It’s a company that makes tactical decisions about spying on you, and when it is in its interest to do so, it has no compunctions at all about invading your privacy.

Same goes for Apple. Yes, the company has done genuinely great stuff to head off mobile surveillance to block ad-tech (and, not coincidentally, to block commercial rivals like Facebook). But they also sold out every one of their Chinese customers by removing all working VPNs from the App Store and backdooring their Chinese cloud servers.

https://www.cnet.com/tech/mobile/apple-removes-vpn-apps-from-china-app-store/

Apple has a tactical commitment to your privacy, not a moral one. When it comes down to guarding your privacy or losing access to Chinese markets and manufacturing, your privacy is jettisoned without a second thought.

No one is giving away free Iphones in exchange for ads. You can pay $1,000 for your Apple product and still be the product. The idea that there is virtue in paying because it incentivizes better corporate ethics is absurd on its face.

The capture of the regulatory state by capitalism is why companies spy on you: spying only makes money if all costs (breaches, loss of agency, etc) can be externalized onto society, and if companies can manufacture consent by cramming an “I agree” button down your throat. In other words, they spy on you because they can get away with it, because the state permits them. We don’t have a federal privacy law with a private right of action, we don’t have statutory limits on terms of service. Even where you do have some rights, we let companies take them away with “binding arbitration” waivers that confiscate your right to sue them and join class actions.

Which brings me to Vizio. Vizio is a surveillance company that incidentally manufactures TVs. A Vizio TV nonconsensually spies on you and shows you ads, and it does so despite the fact that you’re paying for it. Vizio’s latest financials show that the company makes more money from spying on you than it does from selling TVs.

https://investors.vizio.com/news/news-details/2021/VIZIO-HOLDING-CORP.-Reports-Q3-2021-Financial-Results/default.aspx

As Richard Lawler writes for The Verge, the division that handles ads and surveillance booked $57.3 million in profits, while the hardware division’s profits were $25.6 million.

https://www.theverge.com/2021/11/10/22773073/vizio-acr-advertising-inscape-data-privacy-q3-2021

Vizio is a dirty company that breaks the law with impunity. The company doesn’t even bother with the pretextual “consent” that other firms secure prior to spying on you:

https://www.theverge.com/2017/2/6/14522582/vizio-ftc-lawsuit-tv-viewing-habits-tracking-privacy

And it uses software lifted from free/open source projects, flagrantly violating their licenses and stealing from the commons:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/20/vizio-vs-the-world/#dumbcast

The company gets away with this because our justice system treats corporate crime as a feature, not a bug, and allows firms to use the proceeds from their misbehavior to buy their way out of accountability.

Which means that “paying for the product” can’t possibly address corporate misbehavior, because the more money companies have —wheether through sales or spying — the more power they have to fight off a reckoning for their abuses.

“Paying for the product” isn’t just hollow, it’s actively harmful. Under conditions of gross inequality and high levels of debt, “paying for the product” excludes those who lack the means to pay from access to the digital world. If Facebook charged for access, people who couldn’t afford it wouldn’t dig a hole and pull the dirt in over themselves. They’d land on a billionaire-subsidized platform — a social media version of Prageru — where moderators would delete comments that criticized corporate power. This is even worse than widely recognized issues like, “The truth is paywalled and the lies are free”:

https://www.currentaffairs.org/2020/08/the-truth-is-paywalled-but-the-lies-are-free/

There’s nothing inevitable about an ad market that requires surveillance. Contextual advertising — advertising based on the content of articles, rather than data on the readers — is far more profitable for publishers than behavioral ads.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/05/behavioral-v-contextual/#contextual-ads

The catch is that they’re only profitable if the true costs of behavioral ads — privacy invasions, breaches and worse — are priced into the model. In other words, data is only “the new oil” if someone else pays for the oil spills. Otherwise, it’s the new oily rag.

https://locusmag.com/2018/07/cory-doctorow-zucks-empire-of-oily-rags/

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic

[reuinx]

White Lies (Yelena Belova x Reader)

Summary:  You are looking forward to eating with Yelena tonight, but when you open Yelena's phone, you see an unwanted message. As you confront Yelena you uncover the truth that things are not as they seem.

Word Count: 1,523

Translations: Malishka (Baby Girl)

Masterlist

Yelena was cooking tonight; she had recently ordered a new apron online, which arrived during the week. Despite her reluctance to reveal what design she got on it, she couldn't keep her mouth shut about it. As soon as you told Yelena about the package, her face lit up. As if it were Christmas morning, she ripped it open with glee. When she saw it, her face dropped, and you had no idea why. It wasn't until she held it up to show you what was done that you realized what had happened.

The funny thing was that in the center of the apron, it read "Your Design Here." They had not taken her request and sent her the default design. Yelena shook her head in disappointment. You knew she was going to moan about it for the next week but still keep it.

"Blyad, it was supposed to be my design!"

"Well.. technically it is?" You commented humorously as Yelena frowned at you; she didn't like that. You corrected yourself

"What was it going to say then?"

"Less Upsetti more spaghetti." She commented, she always made you laugh without fail.

"I can’t believe you wanted that on an apron! Why would you want that?"

"Because it would make you laugh.”

She was like sunshine after a storm. As the night continued, it was already clear how everything would turn out. In spite of the fact that she hadn't even started, she insisted she needed a bathroom break. You knew she was just in the bedroom frantically using your laptop to try to find something to cook for you. You'd often see her searches in your history; you found it sweet that she didn't just think about herself. She desired to appear selfish, but she was one of the most selfless people you've ever known. Purity was her intention.

You had been snuggled in Yelena's hoodie, wrapped up on the couch. You loved wearing her clothes because she always smelled so good. She smelt like home. Her hoodie finally provided you with the comfort you were looking for today. The phone of Yelena lit up and disturbed you. While it was her turn to cook dinner, she had been charging it next to you. Her getting a notification wouldn't have made you blink an eyelid. Yelena's phone screen flickered again with an unfamiliar name, "Emily." There was probably nothing important going on, but you glanced at her screen, scrunching your nose up. You told yourself that you wouldn't look, you wouldn't. You did anyway.

You have never been through Yelena's stuff, so you aren't aware of what overcame you. She was open with you from the very beginning, but you never needed access to her accounts since you trusted her. You might not have been wise to do that. You titled your head as you read the message, feeling guilty for doing so, but it probably wasn't anything serious.

"Loved seeing you today! Let me know if you need anything else <3. Can't wait to see you Wednesday!" It did not take long for your stomach to tighten as your eyes continued to trace over the same message. Who was this girl? Yelena said she had been visiting Natasha today; she was gone for a while. All this time, she told you everything, but not this? She lied to you. Did she even go and see Natasha? She was always so vocal. You could feel your hands trembling as you shut your eyes. To accuse her correctly, you must be sure of your accusations. Your birthday was her passcode, and you slowly entered it. As you scrolled through, you saw the chat open in front of you.

Yelena never mentioned Emily to you despite the recent frequent phone calls with her. When did these calls even take place? Your stress level was rising. There was nothing worse than realizing that someone you held on a pedestal wasn't as perfect as you had thought they were.

"Send me that picture again," Yelena wrote at one point, the image didn't load for you, but you read her comment.

"So Pretty! "You felt sick now. The pictures wouldn't load, and you felt like everything you had built with Yelena was crumbling around you. Should you confront her or leave? You were dealing with a flight or fight reaction, and flight won hands down. Yelena had entered the room before you were able to get up. With a pot on her head and two spatulas in her hands, she made her way towards you. She treated them like lobsters claws. Wearing her "Your Design Here!" Apron, you knew she wasn't going to return it.

"Time to kiss the chef, I need inspiration for dinner" As Yelena approached you with a t-rex-like ambling, she yipped out.

"Rawr, rawr, rawr!" In an attempt to resemble the mightier beast, she pulled her arms close to her chest. With the pot still on her head, she dropped the spatulas to the floor when she saw your blank expression. She was in trouble. Yelena was always so protective over you; she'd drop anything and everything to make sure you were okay.

"What's happened, Malysh?" She questioned as she approached you, carefully lifting the pot off her head and setting it down on the table. With your look on her face, she knew something was wrong. As you stared across at her, you slowly put down her phone. It was not anger or sadness that you felt; it was numbness.

"Where were you today?" You quizzed her, your eyes burning through her. When Yelena was telling the truth, she consistently maintained eye contact. When she lied, she couldn't bear to look at you.

"I was with Natasha, why?" Yelena questioned quietly with her eyes studying your face, and she held eye contact until you spoke again.

"Just Natasha."

"Yes."

"You lied to me."

"I didn't lie to you! I never lie to you!"

"Who's Emily then? Apparently you hung out today," You managed to say as Yelena was looking away from you. She suddenly looked back at you with a look of regret in her eyes. She did a double-take. She wasn't going to lie to you. She knew the name.

"You know then" When Yelena raised her hand to her forehead, her face became stern, and her face was strained in colour.

"I know."

"I don't know what to say."

"You lied to me, Yelena. You've been lying to me."

"You weren't suppose to know. I can explain, I will explain. Please just give me a chance. I wanted it to be perfec-" Your sudden movement off the couch prompted you to walk over to her, you shoved her shoulders, but she did not move. As she tried to comprehend what was happening, she blinked rapidly.

"Hey, hey! Stop! What's wrong!? I thought you'd be happy! You could just say no to me! You'd break my heart but that's okay considering you'd be the one breaking it. I didn't think you'd react like this!" Yelena snapped out, holding your wrists up so that you wouldn't trash about, her voice dripping with concern. You tried to pull your wrists out of her grip, but you couldn't. She held onto you; she was taller than you and buckled her knees to make eye contact with you as she searched for answers.

"Happy?! Happy. Why the fuck would I be happy, Yelena? You couldn't of just broke up with me before I went and fell in love with you, no?!" Yelena noticed that your temper had gotten out of control. She opened her mouth unexpectedly, her face awash in confusion.

"Why would I want to break up with you?! Wait...What do you think I was doing?" As she let go of your wrists, Yelena raised an eyebrow as her arms crossed her chest.

"I don't know?! I didn't mean to look through your phone but I saw the messages, Yelena. Are you cheating on me?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"You think I'm cheating on you with Emily?"

"Well, are you?! I'd rather you be honest with me."

"How much of the messages did you read?"

"Enough"

"Well, clearly not enough if you believe I'm cheating on you, Pridurok." Yelena explained softly as she took a step towards you; she quickly grabbed you by your waist as she pushed you up against the apartment's wall. You trashed about in her arms, trying to break free from Yelena’s strong grasp.

"Get off, Yelena."

"Emily is a Jeweller!"

"Does it look like I was asking what her profession was!"

“What?!”

“I didn’t ask what her-“

"Emily is a Jeweller. My Jeweller!"

"And?!"

"She's designing your engagement ring with me!"

"What?"

"I'm proposing to you! Not now obviously but I will be!" She spoke; you couldn't speak. In a sudden burst of laughter, her teeth were visible as she grinned at you. She shook her head in disapproval at your reaction.

"I can't believe you thought I was cheating, how many times have I told you that you're it for me? You're just grumpy because you're hungry. Little monster."

#yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x y/n #yelena headcanons #mcu #marvel #marvel one shot #yelena belova one shots #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova requests open #marvel imagine #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova angst #yelena belova fluff #my writing #writing requests #oneshots #yelena belova one shot #mcu black widow #black widow yelena belova #yelena belova one-shots #yelena belova one-shot #yelena one-shots #yelena one-shot

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

It's Still You and It's Still Me

Fandom: Altered Carbon, Takeshi Kovacs

Word Count: 2222

TW: Hand to Hand Combat, Angst, Fluff, Reunion

As you walked through the streets of Bay City alone, you couldn’t help but be disgusted at what civilization had become. You had been awake now for months, your mislabeled stack accidently inserted into a Meth’s sleeve. After escaping the resleeving facility, you had managed to transfer as much money as possible from the Meth’s account to your new account before your access was locked. But it didn’t matter. The amount of money you took could keep you hidden for a thousand years, yet you doubted the Meth would even notice it was missing.

But the shock of waking up from stasis was nothing compared to the shock of what this world had become. Everything you had worked towards changing, on improving as an Envoy, had just gotten worse. The division between the wealthy and the poor had just become further apart, to the point the wealthiest of citizens no longer even lived on the ground but floated high above the crumbling filth of the city.

And despite the loneliness and pain of their loss, part of you was happy that you were the last remaining Envoy. What would Quell think of this place? Or Desoto or Reileen or any of the other residents of Stronghold? What would Tak have to say about it?

Even thinking his name sent a sharp stab of pain through your heart. For the first few weeks, you had held onto some crazy hope that the mix up that happened with you could also happen with Takeshi. Afterall, you had both been captured and “killed” at the same time. If there had been a mistake in your storage, it was reasonable to assume there could be a mistake in his as well. But that hope had soon given way to realism. Tak was gone. And you were on your own. But even though you had accepted that fact, the ache of his loss never got any less.

Especially on nights like tonight. As snow began to drift softly around you, you couldn’t help but think about the last time you saw swirling white dust falling from the sky. Back when it had been the ash of your burning home as you watched as Stronghold was destroyed. But that was when you still had Takeshi at your side, in your arms.

You stuck out a hand to catch a flake as it twirled to the ground, and you were startled by the limb that reached out. All the other Envoys had been used to jumping from body to body, but this was the first time you were in a new sleeve. The first time you are in a skin that you weren’t born into. And even after all this time, you still hadn’t gotten used to how different it is: the coloring, the height, the shape, the level of fitness. You wondered what Tak would think of you now. Another stab of pain hit you as you approached your hotel.

As you entered The Raven, you were shocked to find blood soaking almost every surface of the lobby. You had chosen this place as your hideout due to its rundown appearance and lack of other guests, but this was taking things a bit far. Poe noticed your arrival immediately and materialized at your side.

“Madam, I am terribly sorry, but we had a bit of an incident tonight.”

“Yeah, I can see that. What the hell happened?”

“We have a new guest.”

You just grunted in response. So far, you had been the only resident of The Raven and you liked it that way. But you had known there was always the possibility of other guests at some point. However, the worried look on Poe’s face seemed to point towards something more.

“What else?”

The AI looked nervously at the floor. “Well, you see, this gentleman made a specific request…. A room on the top floor.”

Your voice grew hard and deadly as you glared at him. “And what did you tell him?”

“I told him that floor was reserved for you…. But he insisted. He is being funded by one of the most powerful Meths in the city, so I wasn’t in a place to deny his request.”

A low growl sounded in your throat. You had grown accustomed to having the entire floor to yourself and you were not going to give it up without a fight. Especially not to some Meth lackey. There were hundreds of floors for this new arrival to pick from, but the top one was yours and yours alone. Of course, you could always move instead, but your Envoy intuition reminded you that the top floor was the best strategic location for both defense and offense. So, that left only one option.

“What room is he in?”

“Madam, I can’t just giv-”

“Room number Poe. Now.”

As you rode the elevator up to the top of the building, you tried to calm yourself. It wouldn’t do any good to go in there guns blazing right off the bat. But you had already lost so much already, you weren’t about to give up this safe haven you had made for yourself.

The second you arrived at his door, you loudly and firmly pounded on it. When nothing happened, you raised your hand to try again, but just then the door swung open. Standing before you was a breathtakingly handsome man, whose features only seemed to be enhanced by the blood and bruises that littered his face. His damp hair was hanging limply over intense, hazel eyes. Even from here, you could tell he smelled like a strange mix of soap, blood, and cigarettes. As you trailed your gaze down, you could see both new and old scares scattered across his bare, broad frame all the way to the towel wrapped around his waist.

Reluctantly, you drug your eyes up to his face once more as you snarled, “Get the fuck off my floor.���

He didn’t even flinch at your attitude or your words. He just tried to silently close the door in your face, but you jammed your foot in the crack before it could close all the way. “I said. Get. The. Fuck. Off. My. Floor.”

The man met your furious gaze and calmly growled back, “No.” He put his hand on your chest and gave you a firm shove, catching you by surprise. As you stumbled back, he quickly took this opportunity to slam the door shut.

Furious, you steadied yourself before once again approaching the door. Fine. If he wants to be like that, two can play at that game. After quickly making a few mental calculations, you smashed your foot into the door right at its weakest point. It shattered, sending shards of wood scattering across the room as the remaining hanging piece swung open.

The man stared incredulously at what was left of his door as you calmly entered the room. “You know, that’s no way to treat a lady.”

“What the fuck! How did you do that?”

“Meth upgrades. Nice, aren’t they?” You flexed the muscle in your arm as you gave him a cocky smirk.

Suddenly, Poe once again materialized in front of you. “My monitors showed a disturbance in this ar-” The AI caught sight of what was left of the door. He sighed heavily. “Another one, madam?”

You shrugged. “I told you before. I’m still getting used to this new sleeve and I don’t always have control of my own strength. Just add it to my tab.”

Poe sighed wearily before muttering, “Very well.” And in a blip, he was gone.

Turning back to the man, you placed your hands on your hips, once again giving him the most intimidating glare this sleeve could make as you nodded towards the broken door. “Now, get the fuck out, or I’ll do that to your spine.”

The man rolled his shoulders as he shifted into a fighting stance. “Just try. You have no idea who the fuck you are dealing with.”

You smiled confidently, as you took your own combat position. “Bring it on, big boy.”

He launched himself at you and you dodged with a perfectly timed tuck and roll. Leaping up, you hurled your fist at his face, only for him to block it a split second before it made contact. He tried throwing you aside, but you used the momentum to gracefully flip over and land behind him. Sweeping out your leg, you attempted to throw him off balance. However, he predicted this action and he jumped just before you could knock him over.

Blow after blow was blocked. Maneuver after maneuver thwarted. It was if you anticipated his next move, your body reacting before your mind could process what was about to happen. However, he seemed to be doing the same thing.

You had never seen this man before in your life, you were sure of that. However, since when did that matter. This sleeve could be inhabited by anyone’s stack. Even…. No, it couldn’t be…

You froze as the idea hit you like a speeding bullet. You didn’t want to let yourself give into that hope once more, but only one person had ever fought against you like this.… As you hesitated, the man’s fist connected harshly with your jaw, sending you sprawling to the floor. But when you looked back up at him, the tears in your eyes were not caused by the pain of the impact. “Tak? Takeshi, is-is that you?”

For the first time the man seemed taken aback, his guard lowering just slightly. But whether it was by the name or your sudden change in demeanor, you weren’t sure. Before he could respond, you stood and cautiously reached out your hand. He flinched but allowed you to touch him.

Placing your fingers gently on the center of his forehead, you ran them across his hairline then down the side of his face, following his jaw. Then, just before you reached his chin, you lightly grazed them over his lips. It was the same gesture you had done a thousand times to Tak, your way of telling him I love you and I’m here for you.

The man licked his lips where your fingers had been seconds before. He stared at you intensely, not moving, not blinking. But just as you felt the blossoming hope in your chest start to wilt once more, he hesitantly whispered, “Songspire?”

Your heart exploded in your chest at the sound of Tak’s name for you. You fell into his arms, clinging tightly to him to make sure he didn’t disappear again. He ran his hand over your hair, down your back, clawed at your hips, trying to prove to himself you were real, not just another hallucination.

Tears in your eyes, you managed to choke out, “How? How are you here?”

The man – Takeshi – clutched your face in between his large palms. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“There was a mix up with my stack. I got spun up on accident then I managed to escape and I’ve been hiding out ever since. But what about you? Poe mentioned you’re working for a Meth?”

Tak grunted. “Not exactly by choice.” His voice was so much deeper and gruffer than you were used to, but now that you knew the truth, you could begin to feel your Tak underneath. “They needed someone with Envoy abilities to help track down who murdered one of them. It was either help them or go back on ice. I was planning on leveraging my help to get you a new sleeve, but I guess it’s not really necessary anymore.”

You pressed your forehead firmly against his. “Tak,” you whispered his name, still not fully believing any of this is real. “Please tell me this isn’t a dream.”

He shook his head. “It can’t be, because every night in my dreams, I lose you. But I will never let that fucking happen again.”

His lips crash into yours, the weight of 250 years of separation behind them. You returned the kiss with just as much passion. But as magical as this moment felt, it also seemed slightly strange and uncomfortable. Your new sleeves didn’t fit together the same way anymore. He was taller than before, broader and more muscular. And try as you might, you couldn’t figure out how to get comfortable against him. Everything just felt out of place.

Tak noticed your hesitation immediately. When he saw your face, he looked at you with complete understanding in his eyes. “The sleeves?” You nodded guiltily, but he just held your face in his hands. “It’s okay. I forgot this was the first time you had been resleeved. It takes a while to get used to how everything is different. But it’s still me and it’s still you. And that’s what matters.”

And you could see it, slowly but surely. As hard as it was to look past the gorgeous face in front of you, you could see the man underneath. The man that you loved. So, looking deep into his hazel eyes, you whispered, “Can you show me?”

Takeshi nodded as he gave you a wicked grin. Then he swept you into his strong arms as he carried you to his bed.

I do plan on making this into a series covering all of season 1 but not sure when that will happen

#sfw repost #fic #takeshi kovacs #takeshi kovacs x reader #takeshi kovacs x you #takeshi kovacs x f!reader #joel kinnaman #altered carbon #altered carbon season 1 #angst #fluff #hurt and comfort #hurt & comfort #reunion #hand to hand combat tw

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

It's Still You and It's Still Me

Day 2: Reunion

Fandom: Altered Carbon, Takeshi Kovacs (Ryker Sleeve)

Word Count: 2222

TW: language

Note: Comfort/Fluff prompt

@amonthofwhump

As you walked through the streets of Bay City alone, you couldn’t help but be disgusted at what civilization had become. You had been awake now for months, your mislabeled stack accidently inserted into a Meth’s sleeve. After escaping the resleeving facility, you had managed to transfer as much money as possible from the Meth’s account to your new account before your access was locked. But it didn’t matter. The amount of money you took could keep you hidden for a thousand years, yet you doubted the Meth would even notice it was missing.

But the shock of waking up from stasis was nothing compared to the shock of what this world had become. Everything you had worked towards changing, on improving as an Envoy, had just gotten worse. The division between the wealthy and the poor had just become further apart, to the point the wealthiest of citizens no longer even lived on the ground but floated high above the crumbling filth of the city.

And despite the loneliness and pain of their loss, part of you was happy that you were the last remaining Envoy. What would Quell think of this place? Or Desoto or Reileen or any of the other residents of Stronghold? What would Tak have to say about it?

Even thinking his name sent a sharp stab of pain through your heart. For the first few weeks, you had held onto some crazy hope that the mix up that happened with you could also happen with Takeshi. Afterall, you had both been captured and “killed” at the same time. If there had been a mistake in your storage, it was reasonable to assume there could be a mistake in his as well. But that hope had soon given way to realism. Tak was gone. And you were on your own. But even though you had accepted that fact, the ache of his loss never got any less.

Especially on nights like tonight. As snow began to drift softly around you, you couldn’t help but think about the last time you saw swirling white dust falling from the sky. Back when it had been the ash of your burning home as you watched as Stronghold was destroyed. But that was when you still had Takeshi at your side, in your arms.

You stuck out a hand to catch a flake as it twirled to the ground, and you were startled by the limb that reached out. All the other Envoys had been used to jumping from body to body, but this was the first time you were in a new sleeve. The first time you are in a skin that you weren’t born into. And even after all this time, you still hadn’t gotten used to how different it is: the coloring, the height, the shape, the level of fitness. You wondered what Tak would think of you now. Another stab of pain hit you as you approached your hotel.

As you entered The Raven, you were shocked to find blood soaking almost every surface of the lobby. You had chosen this place as your hideout due to its rundown appearance and lack of other guests, but this was taking things a bit far. Poe noticed your arrival immediately and materialized at your side.

“Madam, I am terribly sorry, but we had a bit of an incident tonight.”

“Yeah, I can see that. What the hell happened?”

“We have a new guest.”

You just grunted in response. So far, you had been the only resident of The Raven and you liked it that way. But you had known there was always the possibility of other guests at some point. However, the worried look on Poe’s face seemed to point towards something more.

“What else?”

The AI looked nervously at the floor. “Well, you see, this gentleman made a specific request…. A room on the top floor.”

Your voice grew hard and deadly as you glared at him. “And what did you tell him?”

“I told him that floor was reserved for you…. But he insisted. He is being funded by one of the most powerful Meths in the city, so I wasn’t in a place to deny his request.”

A low growl sounded in your throat. You had grown accustomed to having the entire floor to yourself and you were not going to give it up without a fight. Especially not to some Meth lackey. There were hundreds of floors for this new arrival to pick from, but the top one was yours and yours alone. Of course, you could always move instead, but your Envoy intuition reminded you that the top floor was the best strategic location for both defense and offense. So, that left only one option.

“What room is he in?”

“Madam, I can’t just giv-”

“Room number Poe. Now.”

As you rode the elevator up to the top of the building, you tried to calm yourself. It wouldn’t do any good to go in there guns blazing right off the bat. But you had already lost so much already, you weren’t about to give up this safe haven you had made for yourself.

The second you arrived at his door, you loudly and firmly pounded on it. When nothing happened, you raised your hand to try again, but just then the door swung open. Standing before you was a breathtakingly handsome man, whose features only seemed to be enhanced by the blood and bruises that littered his face. His damp hair was hanging limply over intense, hazel eyes. Even from here, you could tell he smelled like a strange mix of soap, blood, and cigarettes. As you trailed your gaze down, you could see both new and old scares scattered across his bare, broad frame all the way to the towel wrapped around his waist.

Reluctantly, you drug your eyes up to his face once more as you snarled, “Get the fuck off my floor.”

He didn’t even flinch at your attitude or your words. He just tried to silently close the door in your face, but you jammed your foot in the crack before it could close all the way. “I said. Get. The. Fuck. Off. My. Floor.”

The man met your furious gaze and calmly growled back, “No.” He put his hand on your chest and gave you a firm shove, catching you by surprise. As you stumbled back, he quickly took this opportunity to slam the door shut.

Furious, you steadied yourself before once again approaching the door. Fine. If he wants to be like that, two can play at that game. After quickly making a few mental calculations, you smashed your foot into the door right at its weakest point. It shattered, sending shards of wood scattering across the room as the remaining hanging piece swung open.

The man stared incredulously at what was left of his door as you calmly entered the room. “You know, that’s no way to treat a lady.”

“What the fuck! How did you do that?”

“Meth upgrades. Nice, aren’t they?” You flexed the muscle in your arm as you gave him a cocky smirk.

Suddenly, Poe once again materialized in front of you. “My monitors showed a disturbance in this ar-” The AI caught sight of what was left of the door. He sighed heavily. “Another one, madam?”

You shrugged. “I told you before. I’m still getting used to this new sleeve and I don’t always have control of my own strength. Just add it to my tab.”

Poe sighed wearily before muttering, “Very well.” And in a blip, he was gone.

Turning back to the man, you placed your hands on your hips, once again giving him the most intimidating glare this sleeve could make as you nodded towards the broken door. “Now, get the fuck out, or I’ll do that to your spine.”

The man rolled his shoulders as he shifted into a fighting stance. “Just try. You have no idea who the fuck you are dealing with.”

You smiled confidently, as you took your own combat position. “Bring it on, big boy.”

He launched himself at you and you dodged with a perfectly timed tuck and roll. Leaping up, you hurled your fist at his face, only for him to block it a split second before it made contact. He tried throwing you aside, but you used the momentum to gracefully flip over and land behind him. Sweeping out your leg, you attempted to throw him off balance. However, he predicted this action and he jumped just before you could knock him over.

Blow after blow was blocked. Maneuver after maneuver thwarted. It was if you anticipated his next move, your body reacting before your mind could process what was about to happen. However, he seemed to be doing the same thing.

You had never seen this man before in your life, you were sure of that. However, since when did that matter. This sleeve could be inhabited by anyone’s stack. Even…. No, it couldn’t be…

You froze as the idea hit you like a speeding bullet. You didn’t want to let yourself give into that hope once more, but only one person had ever fought against you like this.… As you hesitated, the man’s fist connected harshly with your jaw, sending you sprawling to the floor. But when you looked back up at him, the tears in your eyes were not caused by the pain of the impact. “Tak? Takeshi, is-is that you?”

For the first time the man seemed taken aback, his guard lowering just slightly. But whether it was by the name or your sudden change in demeanor, you weren’t sure. Before he could respond, you stood and cautiously reached out your hand. He flinched but allowed you to touch him.

Placing your fingers gently on the center of his forehead, you ran them across his hairline then down the side of his face, following his jaw. Then, just before you reached his chin, you lightly grazed them over his lips. It was the same gesture you had done a thousand times to Tak, your way of telling him I love you and I’m here for you.

The man licked his lips where your fingers had been seconds before. He stared at you intensely, not moving, not blinking. But just as you felt the blossoming hope in your chest start to wilt once more, he hesitantly whispered, “Songspire?”

Your heart exploded in your chest at the sound of Tak’s name for you. You fell into his arms, clinging tightly to him to make sure he didn’t disappear again. He ran his hand over your hair, down your back, clawed at your hips, trying to prove to himself you were real, not just another hallucination.

Tears in your eyes, you managed to choke out, “How? How are you here?”

The man – Takeshi – clutched your face in between his large palms. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“There was a mix up with my stack. I got spun up on accident then I managed to escape and I’ve been hiding out ever since. But what about you? Poe mentioned you’re working for a Meth?”

Tak grunted. “Not exactly by choice.” His voice was so much deeper and gruffer than you were used to, but now that you knew the truth, you could begin to feel your Tak underneath. “They needed someone with Envoy abilities to help track down who murdered one of them. It was either help them or go back on ice. I was planning on leveraging my help to get you a new sleeve, but I guess it’s not really necessary anymore.”

You pressed your forehead firmly against his. “Tak,” you whispered his name, still not fully believing any of this is real. “Please tell me this isn’t a dream.”

He shook his head. “It can’t be, because every night in my dreams, I lose you. But I will never let that fucking happen again.”

His lips crash into yours, the weight of 250 years of separation behind them. You returned the kiss with just as much passion. But as magical as this moment felt, it also seemed slightly strange and uncomfortable. Your new sleeves didn’t fit together the same way anymore. He was taller than before, broader and more muscular. And try as you might, you couldn’t figure out how to get comfortable against him. Everything just felt out of place.

Tak noticed your hesitation immediately. When he saw your face, he looked at you with complete understanding in his eyes. “The sleeves?” You nodded guiltily, but he just held your face in his hands. “It’s okay. I forgot this was the first time you had been resleeved. It takes a while to get used to how everything is different. But it’s still me and it’s still you. And that’s what matters.”

And you could see it, slowly but surely. As hard as it was to look past the gorgeous face in front of you, you could see the man underneath. The man that you loved. So, looking deep into his hazel eyes, you whispered, “Can you show me?”

Takeshi nodded as he gave you a wicked grin. Then he swept you into his strong arms as he carried you to his bed.

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

I am very much considering making this a series so if you would like to see more, please let me know! Thanks!

#amow twelve days of whumpmas #whumpmas #day 2 #reunion #takeshi kovacs #takeshi kovacs x reader #takeshi kovacs x you #takeshi kovacs x f!reader #joel kinnaman #altered carbon #altered carbon season 1 #comfort #fluff #fic

[prose-for-hire]

Kiss me quick

Pairing: Spike x Summers!reader

Request: Hi! Can I request a Spike x Summers!reader, where the reader is trying to keep their relationship on the downlow since none of the Scoobies really approve, but after a big win the reader finally kisses him in front of everyone, proving that they do care deeply for one another and everyone just has to accept it.

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Reader gets injured but nothing serious. sex references/implication of sex.

You looked out into dimly lit street, the dark had surrounded you now but ever since you had been meeting this way you couldn’t help but smile whenever the sun began to descend from the sky. You were stood, under a streetlamp, three streets away from your house. Just far enough where nobody from your household would catch you meeting him this way. You had been meeting like this for a while now.

He got a kick out of coming up behind you and immediately pressing you against the nearest wall and crashing his lips to yours. His favourite greeting entailed leaving you breathless and ready to pull him closer no matter what your surroundings were. He often mumbled his hellos through stolen kisses. His passion never died, he was all in. Completely yours.

You couldn’t shake this feeling. That you were completely in love. You had silently tried to fight it to begin with, knowing that those around you wouldn’t approve. That Spike himself may not even reciprocate your feelings. But soon it became clear that there was no hiding these feelings that always bubbled to the surface whenever he was near.

You had started fooling around to begin with, before it all changed. For the better, both of you agreed. Your feelings had taken hold of you both, fuelled by the touch of skin. The depth of mind. Unspoken emotions kept the two of you in a chokehold before you finally spilled your feelings for the other.

Ever since you quit college, you had spent all of your free time sneaking around with Spike. It was, honestly, as thrilling as it was annoying. As much as you wished you could just tell everyone how much you loved Spike - how amazing he was with you, you couldn’t. You had to hide it, the implications of your friends and sisters finding out would be a fate worse than death. In fact, for spike it may mean actual death this time.

Unfortunately, you were the middle child. You were a year younger than Buffy and she never let you forget about it. Meaning, Buffy thought she was the boss of you. Not to mention Dawn basically clung onto your leg to stop you from leaving the house (and thus, preventing you leaving her behind where she couldn���t follow you around). This meant that, often, you didn’t get much spare time for sneaking around with Spike. But, God, did you make it your biggest priority. After… saving the world… obviously.

When you did manage to share these intimate moments, it was everything. It felt as if you were the only people in the world. The only people that had ever felt anything close to this. Nobody had loved this deep. Cared this much. You were both so sure. These feelings, they were eternal. He vowed it to you, one early morning you had spent with your naked bodies pressed together, baring your souls well into the night.

Any emotional scars you harboured seemed to heal just by speaking to him. By having that soothing voice share his own darkest moments with you in return. How that voice, those eyes could have seen and done so much and still make you feel undeniably safe you weren’t sure. But, you trusted him. Even if danger appeared to surround him at every turn. You wouldn’t change him for anything. You loved the good, the bad and the oh-so-attractive parts of him.

Vulnerabilities turned to strengths when you were together. Rough edges appeared smoother. Promises held meaning. You adored him and he confessed to you that he had never been so comfortable in a relationship. He could be himself, could express his feelings without being concerned you would turn away from him.

The first night you invited him into your home made him elated. You had to make him swear not to tell Buffy because you knew she wouldn’t take it well. Like, at all. As much as he would have loved to rub it in the slayer’s face that he had been given access to her house – he loved you too much to even think to upset you in this way. So, you carried on this way, unable to keep your hands and lips from each other for more than an evening at a time. This meant mostly, he stayed at the Summer’s residence or you left to the crypt. Sometimes, you even went for real dates – so long as you were sure that everyone else you knew would be busy elsewhere.

Tonight, you were going to the Bronze together. It was a little more of a risk than usual, but he had insisted on taking you somewhere he knew you would enjoy. Muttered something about not keeping you in the shadows before taking your hand and leading the way. The truth was, Spike was in fact just very smitten with you. And he pretty much wanted everyone to see that you were with him. This was ‘everyone’ except the scoobies and any family members you happened to have crawling out of the woodwork. It was safe though, everyone else was going to some college party and Buffy had told you that it was uncool to have her younger sibling come along.

Buffy was the only one that viewed you as the ‘younger sibling’ the others were friends with you because they were fond of you. Because, well, sometimes you appeared more mature than Buffy did – not that they would ever say that to her face. Although there was always that slight worry that if they hadn’t been friends with Buffy they wouldn’t have been as close with you. You were barely a year younger than Buffy but she was still incredibly protective of you as she was the oldest.

What you hadn’t banked on, whilst you rubbed Spike’s thigh under the table, was that Xander hadn’t been invited to the party. He saw you immediately and made his way over to you with Anya close behind. You almost choked on your drink as you saw them come up behind Spike. You snapped your hand away in shock much to Spike’s displeasure.

“Hey, Y/n-” he started and then stopped when he saw Spike’s presence, “He bothering you?”

“No, he’s just-”

“Warming you up, right pet?” His eyes glistened as he spoke, an eyebrow raising which made Xander scowl. You tried your best to hide the smile at your boyfriend’s words as Xander looked between you both. Xander liked to think of himself as your older brother and had decided you needed defending. You opened your mouth to say otherwise but ended up being cut off by a very urgent ex-vengeance demon.

“It doesn’t matter that they’re dating right now, we are all going to get ripped into pieces if the demon finds us!” Anya shouted. You hadn’t been as secretive as you thought then.

“An!” Xander hissed, sharing a look. At the exact same time you and Spike shared a look too. You wondered who else had seen straight through your sneaking around and longing glances you shared through scooby meetings.

You were sharing looks for different reasons though. They had obviously discussed what not to say beforehand and Anya had characteristically ignored his warning. There was some kind of demon threatening the town. Again.

“What’s going on, Xander? Anya?” you tried for your ex-vengeance demon friend when Xander didn’t speak. There was definitely something odd going on. At her name being called, despite Xander’s warning, she launched into an explanation.

“Xander got annoyed at our sex-spell and ripped a page out of my very rare copy of ‘magic, sex and me’ which ruined our entire evening!” She scowled and crossed her arms before continuing, “Now we have to kill it instead of having our sexy time” she pouted.

“We’ll pretend we didn’t hear about a sex spell-”

“Well, I want to hear about it. Can’t get it up, mate?” Spike taunted which only made Xander redden further after Anya’s admittance. Xander stepped as if to hit your vampire but you stepped in the way and wheeled Xander away, changing the subject.

You asked instead about what this demon was like. Anya explained that it was a Scorn-demon. Ridiculously hard to kill and bound to the pages of a book as no mortal prison can hold it. It looked as if you were in for a long night. Which is exactly what you and Spike had planned although for a very different reason.

“If all of us are looking, we’ll find it quicker” You offered, Xander had been embarrassed to explain because of the reason they were doing a spell. But now Anya had told anyone anyway, he was grateful of the help. You got to your feet, ready to follow them out as Spike got up beside you.

“Looks like no bugger’s getting any tonight” Spike muttered, rolling his eyes as you apparently volunteered you both to assist your friend.

“Just working ourselves up… right?” You offered which made him smirk. God, he had been rubbing off on you. You almost felt yourself mirroring his smirk at your words. He wanted to pull you in and kiss you until you admitted just his presence could get you worked up enough alone, but he knew the importance of hiding this from your friends. Which, really was the only reason he didn’t take you right there in the middle of the Bronze.

Instead, you just trailed behind Xander and Anya’s bickering and tried to locate this demon. You called Buffy’s cell and left a message. You knew this was probably going to end with a battle you were unequipped for. You just hoped that you ran into your sister before you ran into the demon. By all accounts he sounded nasty.

As you walked, you and Spike kept sneaking glances at the other when you hoped the others weren’t looking. It was hard, having to maintain this distance when all you wanted to do was reach for him. Show him your affection freely. When you caught the other’s eye, you couldn’t help but smile. You felt so lucky, to have someone that cared so deeply. Someone who wasn’t afraid to share their love so freely.

You wanted to slide your hand in his, tell him just how lucky you felt. Just how much you felt for him, although you were sure he must be sick of how often you told him you loved him. He never was, of course. It was the sweetest music hearing that phrase from your lips. He kissed them a thousand times just to catch the remaining sweetness from your tongue. With those words, nothing should be wasted. He wanted to savour every syllable of your love.

You kept walking until you had to come to an abrupt halt. Dawn turned a corner and crashed straight into you. Turns out, your hopes came true: you did come across your sister first. It just happened to not be the one you expected.

“Oh, I didn’t know you guys were ready for, like, double dating yet” Dawn teased. She, too, had decided that you and Spike had to be dating. She often brought it up to annoy you but she believed it all the same. Spike never corrected her and you had stopped bothering too. You would only come off as defensive and she would tease you for that. You honestly couldn’t win living under the same roof as Dawn, she could be relentless.

Spike leaned in to whisper something in your ear, his lips so close to your ear you could imagine the way they would feel if he leaned in further and pressed against your skin. You smiled at his comment, he always made you laugh. He liked to hear your laugh and it passed the time while he waited for the fight that was coming.

When you looked back up, Willow and Tara had caught up with your group. They gave you a knowing look at how close you were stood to Spike. You wanted to lean on him, inhale deeply and press kisses against the curve of his neck. You loved the way he gripped you closer when you did that. But you had to snap yourself out of this thought at the arrival of your sister. Buffy immediately started giving orders, not before she gave you a warning look for letting Dawn come with you after she scowled at Spike for his mere presence.

“I brought the research – I think there’s a spell, but we’ll have to weaken him first” Willow muttered, frowning at Anya and blaming her for this spell and putting her best friend in danger. 

“The spell needs lovers to complete it. Do you think you could help us Anya? Xander?” Tara asked softly, “But I’m not sure if that’s enough to hold him”

Because the demon was attracted to love and sex, couples were needed to cut off his power at the source. It fed from lovers and by concentrating that power it could reverse and thus weaken the demon within a certain spot.

“Well, if we need couples we have at least three pairs here. Maybe that would be enough?” Willow asked. Making everyone look around to count the pairs. Everyone’s eyes then landed on you and Spike. The last to look was Buffy who raised an eyebrow between you both.

“Does everyone know we’re dating?!”

“Pretty much, sweetie” tara nodded.

“We just didn’t wanna embarrass you. It’s… Spike” Buffy cringed at even the thought of it, “I, uh, thought you would have kinda got it out of your system by now though” Buffy hitched her nose up at the idea of the two of you, but shrugged. She saw it as a meaningless relationship. The kind she had with Parker in her first year of college but more often.

From what you gathered as they didn’t correct her, nobody really thought Spike capable of any kind of meaningful relationship. And with him not being able to actively harm you, they just decided to avoid the topic entirely until one or both of you got bored of the sex. The only one that hadn’t thought anything of your sudden proximity with Spike every time he turned around, was Xander. He really would have said something if he had known. But he still wasn’t convinced now – no matter how often Anya insisted.

You slid your hand into his, now that everybody appeared to know that you were together at least. He smiled at this, looking down at your hands back to your face. This smile, it was softer than he would usually show in front of the Scoobies, it was one only for you. Where he felt such genuine happiness. Such adoration.

As usual, nobody really wanted to discuss your love life (rather just ignore and hope it went away) and so began to look away from you and discuss the demon again. You began following the trail of destruction. He wasn’t so hard to locate really and Buffy immediately attacked him as Willow and Anya set up in a large triangle around the fight. Each couple was at each point of the triangle as the recital occurred. A flash of light surrounded the demon and Buffy before it faded, showing the demon now fighting sluggishly.

You tried to protect Dawn the best you could while Spike and Buffy took it in turns to throw punches at the now marginally weakened demon. You and the others helped when you could but he was so strong even now the spell had worked, that humans barely affected him.

Somehow the demon broke from Spike’s hold and started for Dawn - who he had sensed as the weaker member of your group. You charged in front of your younger sister to try and distract him. This lead to him twisting you and throwing you into the air and crashing into a nearby storefront. You were flung straight against the wall and hit your head quite badly. He watched you falling like a ragdoll, appearing limp due to the blow.

His gut dropped. He left Buffy to the fight. All that mattered now was that you were okay. He had never been so scared. Spike rushed over to you, dropping to the floor so that he could cradle your head in his lap. There were a few seconds where he didn’t know what to do.

But then just as he thought he may have lost you, hope was restored again. You open your eyes, your smile a little dazed as you looked at him from your position in his lap. He looked up to the sky in relief, as if silently thanking the powers. His eyes danced with emotion as he looked back into yours. He wouldn’t know what he would do without you. Couldn’t even imagine it less his heart would begin to ache with phantom loss.

He was so overcome by the thought of losing you that he immediately caught your lips with his. Pouring every single feeling he had ever experienced for you into that one kiss. His hand cupping your cheek, the other on the small of your back – pressing you closer to him. As if this kiss may well be your very last. You reciprocated without hesitation, your lips felt as if they had been moulded just for this very moment. This kiss, it said everything. Promised everything and you smiled into it. Your lips moving against his urgently, insisting he feel your love for him. Even in your weakened state, all of your energy went into kissing him.

In the same moment, Buffy managed to finally slay the beast and Tara and Willow muttered some words that sent him into the book he would now again call home. Buffy whipped around to catch you both kissing so desperately. The rest of the group stopped still and staring too. Every mouth agape in shock. At just how much you appear to feel for the other. This wasn’t just a quick shag when the feeling struck. One wasn’t taking advantage of the other. This was love. The truest kind. And nobody could deny it now, not even Xander.

After you parted, reluctantly on both parts, he took on your weight as you all walked back, everyone except him in silence. He doted on you, pressing a kiss against your temple every few paces – just because he could now in this company. He wanted to offer you all of the comfort he could. He was whispering to you trying to make sure you didn’t fall asleep. He was sure you had a concussion (I mean, you kissed him that way in front of all of your friends without any worries after all).

Buffy didn’t even object when it appeared that Spike was walking their way home. She didn’t know what to think anymore. Everyone could see just how deeply you cared for each other. It was undeniable, even to your older sister.

Spike was just pleased you would make it and be okay. And… he began to get smug that he was finally able to show the slayer that he could access her house this entire time.

#spike btvs #spike x reader #spike imagine #spike x you #btvs #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #btvs x you #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #spike fic #gn #gender neutral reader #gender neutral #spike

[spectrumspace]

If you thought Neopets NFTs were bad, check this out.

Since 2019, WildWorks (WW; they made Animal Jam) had been working on a fantasy MMO targeting older players called Fer.al (which I will refer to as just Feral for simplicity’s sake).

In 2020, Feral entered open beta (meaning it was made available as a playable demo) and was met with positivity for the most part, though gradually, development slowed as 2021 drew to a close, and players were getting ansty. The game is still in open beta right now in 2022, despite having monetization implemented.

In late November 2021, WildWorks announced Cinder, a “metaverse” where people could buy access through the sale of NFTs.

Understandably, the community of people raised on a game that told them to save the environment did not handle this well.

In an attempt to save some of their image, the CEO (Clark Stacey) hosted a Discord AMA during which he and an assistant assured that Cinder relied on Solana, allegedly less of a polluter than most other blockchain platforms. Allegedly.

They also argued that even if Solana was bad, you using Discord right now is just as bad (maybe even worse! you’re such hypocrites, kids). And even if it isn’t, well, you aren’t our target demographic anyway so just ignore it lol

What made it even worse was that all the content for Cinder was being recycled from Feral. Cinder’s procedurally-generated avatars are Fae, the newest avatar species to be added to Feral. In addition, the locations from Feral are the exact same ones as in Cinder. (CW: cartoon blood) A promo on Instagram shows off “Blood Tundra”, a location that exists in Feral.

(CW: cartoon blood again) However, you’ll notice that the actual post on Instagram has been edited ever since the Feral Discord (FD) pointed it out, though the image is very clearly still the same place.

Even though FD has been abandoned since the announcement of Cinder, there are several cases of things being changed/deleted on Cinder’s end as soon as they are mentioned and criticized on FD, implying that someone at WW is consistently lurking on FD and changing things to avoid criticism, but won’t actually address them in an announcement or something.

In fact, there have been no new announcements since December 2, 2021, not even when the game bugged out and automatically made available content some players paid for with IRL money before realizing it unplayable.

So FD is just festering with vengeful older teens spamming corn emojis, dissing on Cinder, and asking for other game recommendations. No action is being taken against these people.

The poor volunteer not-employed-by-WW mods are just as lost and confused as the users. They didn’t know this would happen and were left to fend for themselves with no guidance from the company they’d trusted, though all of them seem to be sympathetic with the Feral users overall. Some have resigned in protest of Cinder.

AMAs on the Cinder Discord (CD) were originally in text format, though they have since moved to audio livestreams. People using the Feral Discord assume this was done to make recording their answers and sharing them on FD/holding WW accountable more of a hassle.

A user named “CinderSpire” was presented as just some random WW employee on the Cinder Discord using an account separate from known admins like Stacey, but apparently after moving all their AMAs to livestreams, it became very apparent that CinderSpire has the exact same voice as Stacey. In fact, in a live AMA, he seemingly slips up and refers to himself as the CEO (“No, I’m-- Clark Stacey has been. . .”). (So this guy has a sockpuppet. There is no good reason to have a sockpuppet.)

Cinder has been spammed about on Reddit and its Twitter floats at about 5k followers, give or take, most of which appear to be bots (especially in the replies). As you can see, it isn’t getting much traction or engagement on any social media.

Those who join CD say engagement is low there, too, and the community is toxic/full of red flags (Pepe memes, jokes about people’s dead parents), and they refer to the teenagers playing Feral and getting mad as immature children, which doesn’t address their concerns. . . Anyone who brings up Feral or asks too many questions/criticizes the project is often banned. Mods are open in saying that all ban appeals are rejected.

WW apparently made an announcement on CD asking people to drop their wallet addresses for a giveaway, and people began posting exactly that out in the open until they set up a Google Form in a later post/edit. Which, in case you didn’t know, is extremely unsafe. Anyone can put anything they want in your wallet with or without your approval as long as they know your address, and this includes crypto with a smart contract (bit of code that can do things) that’s been written to run a malicious script if you interact with it, potentially stealing everything in your wallet.

Now is a good time to remember WW had a massive data breach a couple years back.

Someone sent Clark Stacey a picture of corn and got blocked, so now everyone sends him corn. Sending corn memes gets you banned from the Cinder Discord. 🌽

Today (2/16/22), the first NFTs are being minted. People who actually bought Fae are complaining that the graphics suck and there’s nothing to do, and are already demanding rarity charts/etc. so they can flip their tokens to an even bigger loser for more money. . . but they can’t just yet, because they haven’t sold out, which tells you a lot about the community and the way a project like this is run.

Instead of posting an update to the Feral Discord, or literally saying anything to address the existence of their community, the owners just bumped slow mode up from two minutes to ten, just before the mint, and now the server is a riot because clearly these idiots are lurking around and just really, really hope everyone playing Feral shuts up.

TL;DR: The guys who made Animal Jam tried to make an NFT game but they’re running it exactly like a scam.

#spectrum speaks #long post

[olderthannetfic]

to the anon with the problem of not understanding how other queer people are happy being themselves, outside factors be damned:

as a cis straight woman I sometimes don't understand how other women like me aren't unhappy- not with being themselves from the get-go, but from the expectations society puts women through that are absurd when you look at the logic, but some of them definitely are and that's okay.

I was born to a family that, while it buys into the nuclear model, encouraged me and other kids in my generation of it (the one preceding being Jewish immigrants from Soviet Russia) to do what makes us happy and build our lives how we see fit, in a society that has been, broadly speaking, more and more tolerant of diversity in people and lifestyles by the year, despite the conformity. I was even lucky enough to have access to television to see other cultures than those of my country, and to the internet since I was in 2nd grade, so when I encountered fanfics later I found out about other sexualities and genders and ways of being and slowly, over years, learned some of the history and read a lot of self-testemonials and saw that it's not been fair to any of us (especially the to the people most in the fringes, but including cis straight people) to live under such rigid narratives of how people and family and love look like.

things that I learned: I might fall in love or want to have sex with a woman and that's normal; I might stop being attracted to men and that's okay; some people have more than one life-partner and they seem to be very happy like that; maybe I'll never marry or ever have sex and I don't feel like I'm missing out; maybe I'll adopt kids someday or foster (I don't think I'm suited for babies and toddlers on account of I've what my mother had to do and I babysat some, and I don't want to be pregnant), maybe by myself, maybe I won't; maybe I'll live out my life with a non-romantic partner; my womb doesn't make me feel like a woman and that's, honestly, freeing as fuck, because a lot of women around seemed to pin womanhood to even more absurd things that I didn't and don't want to do but queer, gnc and trans women also mostly didn't.

things that never made sense to me:

in particular, the idea that sexuality or gender or how they express beget behavior, good or bad or neutral, instead of how society and how people are raised and what ideas they think or encounter that counter that, good or bad or neutral. straight people cheat. gay people cheat. bi people cheat- sometimes with someone the same gender as their partner, sometimes not. I also think that the majority of partnered people don't cheat, and that cheating--when revealed--sticks in the mind so much because it's less common and broadly discouraged, unless one lives under the narrative that people like them always cheat- this includes cis straight people;

more broadly, that unhappiness is caused by something inherent to you and not how you're made to feel- by ideas that it's wrong or means something it doesn't, by other struggles in life and how you deal with them, and how family or society struggles to deal with you. I've seen more and more queer people on various formats of local media over the years (if I met them they weren't out to me, but I'm very introvert and live in the less liberal part, but then, queer people from even more conservative parts move and come out), and of the non-fiction kind the stories are still varied in how much sadness and happiness the life lived had been so far, regardless of how much they liked being themselves in spite, or because, of other people. in both fiction and non-fiction the stories got happier over the years, especially with legal and social milestones, with sadness having less and less to do with the queerphobic part of society unless they're surrounded by it or it came to the fore again.

the fact that queer people exist and are normal and human as anyone is already a vastly different narrative than most people lived with less than a century ago. if the cis straight narrative isn't universal and isn't guaranteed to be happy, anon, what makes you think that your narrative is the true one for anyone other than you? you even figured out you were bi despite your ideas about bi people, why not figure out how to be happy as a bi person? doesn't really sound like the "all bi people are destined to cheat" applies to you, you never thought to do it and seem very principled.

--

[burnedbyshoto]

hawks_littledove.mp3

— You’re an avid listener to NSFW ASMR artist Hawks. It’s just your luck that he’s offered to have phone sex with you.

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pairing: takami keigo (hawks) x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, slight abuse of power/influence, phone sex, masturbation, degradation, praise, nsfw asmr artist!hawks

word count: 5,018

a/n: my keyboard is broken and i could actually cry. but hey, hawks do be sexy even tho I would never trust him with my life. also LOL this might be a call out to a lot of us, do not be offended or I will cry.

kinktober day 14 main kink: phone sex | kinktober masterlist

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Fantasizing about being in relationships with fictional characters was entirely healthy and normal.

That was something you believed to the core. It was fictional; thus, no one but you were to be hurt at the end of the day. The character, being fake, could never have an opinion because you must be real in order to have an opinion. So when you were between boyfriends, you discovered a new anime, and before you could stop yourself, you fell hard for a character.

It started as a mild obsession.

You had looked up fanart via google images, your heart warming when you saw the plethora of different fanart. The anime itself had been in circulation for a few years now, the manga for much longer, so the content was endless. Then google images wasn’t enough, and you began crossing into Twitter and Tumblr.

The fanart became better, more engrossing, and definitely much more NSFW. And then, one night during your endless rabbit hole down Tumblr after your daily search on Twitter, you stilled when seeing a new type of content.

⇒ grey fullbuster x reader

The obsession grew worse.

So much so that you had followed nearly five hundred self insert writers and artists on Tumblr, and maybe seven hundred artists, meta writers, and thread makers on twitter. But three months into consuming all the content you could find, you came across a new name that made you tilt your head.

Hawks Fierce Wings

It was a name that was being repeated and heavily talked about on both sites. It was an ASMR artist, apparently, and you frowned at the thought. You didn’t have anything against ASMR videos, but you weren’t exactly sure how to handle an anime ASMR artist. Were they cosplaying while making all those weird ASMR sounds? You really didn’t have any idea, but due to the immense boredom of your lazy day in, you decided to hell with it and tried out his most popular video.

It was simply entitled: Hawks is Jealous.

Did you have any idea as to who Hawks was? God, no, you didn’t. But if it was just some random cosplay he was going to do, you didn’t think it was going to matter. So as the only slightly educated ASMR listener, you never truly became invested when it was a thing; you slipped on your earbuds and pressed play.

The introduction screen faded into an illustrated picture of a slightly handsome man, and some calming yet tense music played in the background. You shifted, eyebrows drew as you waited for the ASMR session to begin, and when it did, you were not ready.

“I saw you walking around with that asshole today,” a voice practically growled in your ear, and you froze.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no!

For almost an entire hour, you sat glued to your sofa, your fingers digging into your lap as the jealous, spiteful words of this man named Hawks poured bitterly in your ear. His words were a near aggravated assault on you and definitely something you were beyond uncomfortable hearing from a stranger, but there was something about his voice that kept you there. Maybe it was the tenor of his tone or the way there was this sly, cunning scent to his words that he seemed to hide deep within his throat, but there was something that kept you there.

The second the passionate, heated kissing noises and heavy moans began to spill from his lips, you screeched, slamming your laptop closed as your cheeks pounded heavily.

Oh my god?!

It took a bit, but eventually, you were able to finish the audio and quickly figured out why he was an NSFW artist. You had never, ever heard a man eat a pussy fake or real as eagerly or vigorously as he did. Your hands were gripping the pants of your leggings, and your chest heaved.

Oh, motherfucking shit.

Finding out there were almost seventy other videos for you to still experience sent you scrambling for more, and eventually, you had to confess you were obsessed. Despite the anime fandoms you had discovered him for, Hawks seemed to be more famous for the content he created as himself. His real name was unknown by the looks of it, and he was only addressed as Hawks by his audience, something you caught on to quickly. So only after creating a new profile for his Youtube account, you made quick work of liking and commenting on every single of his already published seventy-eight nearly one hour and thirty-minute videos. 

Each one was different.

Each one filled with various roadmaps on how Hawks' scenarios would play out for you — the listener. When he used his own persona, he called the listener his little dove or his chicken nugget, sometimes his KFC thigh, or his shish kabob. 

You were glad at the very least he didn’t call you by any of those nicknames when pretending to fuck you at a speed only a “porn-is-my-only-education-on-porn” virgin teenage boy. You knew it wasn’t ideal, usually, but for some reason, it just worked. You commented on everything, read his summaries and thoughts on each video. Eventually, when you found yourself on his final, most recent video, you were ready to go a step further.

The Patreon app on your phone seemed jarringly out of place as you opened the app and subscribed yourself to Hawks' highest tiered option for the price of twenty USD.

And when you got your access to his page, you were immersed in more heavier, better content.

It was a goldmine in a sea of fools gold, and you absolutely went insane.

You weren’t sure if you were insane, needy, or just straight-up idiotic for scrolling to the very first Patreon post and indulging in the content Hawks created. 

There was a stark difference between the warnings alone between the Youtube videos and the Patreon posts. While the porn was readily accessible on Youtube, the kinkiest thing that ever happened in a video was a slight implication that Hawks had left the listener on a vibrator and fuckmachine as he went to go talk to the visiting neighbors.

It was a slight, tiny zone out and miss a detail, but one you had clung onto like an obsessed psycho and even commented on in your comment on the post. Of course, Hawks hadn’t responded, not that you had ever expected him to because all things considered, a video that was eight months old and hadn’t done that well, to begin with, didn’t seem like anything he would remember: notifications and all. 

But Patreon? Oh good, sweet, ravishing Patreon.

The very first video was of the following:

Stepbrother!Hawks fucks Stepsister!Listener in the stairwell during Christmas Dinner.

After praying and swearing to all the deities of the world that you were merely a person with a voice kink for this man and not, in fact, a perverted pseudo-incest worshiper, you clicked on it and began. It was downright sinful.

There were active voices whispered in the background as Hawks laughed about how fucking slutty you were for letting your brother fuck you like this. In the hallway, like a dog, where anyone in your joint family could walk out into. He laughed that you probably wanted it, how your wet ass pussy was greedily sucking him in, so how could you even begin to deny your lust for your brother.

You had to take a break five times during that audio.

Eventually, you do end up catching up.

Each video he had ever posted to your disposal, and most likely due to the different tier levels, you always commented on the videos. Even if it made you feel awkward for lusting over things months old, even if there were no other comments on the videos, which was much more common than you thought, you always commented and liked. It wasn’t anything ever crazy, you had seen the rarest comments bring a whole essay of analysis on why they loved it or the hating words, but you kept it simple.

Just something to keep Hawks spirits high without draining you even further of energy.

A simple: holy shit, that was hot as fucking hell!!!! you never disappoint me!!!

You never expected anything out of it; as a matter of fact, you had merely thought that you were doing the least by merely appreciating his creations when, one night, a few hours after you had gotten home. Your phone chimed with an alert.

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ in surprise; you hadn’t realized there was going to be a new release after he had just updated four days ago. Still, you popped in your earbuds and began the audio with a simple title.

i fuk ur stupid lil pus until u cri

He wasn’t precisely putting much effort into his titles these days, but his tags were definitely accurate and entirely explicit in what was to come. And in this newest video, the prominent tag was degradation.

You weren’t entirely into degradation, but still, you did what you had to do because you weren’t turned off by it. With the beginning sounds of the music playing in the background, you warped into the situation Hawks carefully carved.

But, oh?

Your face simmered with heat as Hawks dirty words dripped from the earbuds, the wet, squelching noise of your cunt and throat being fucked like some inanimate object made you soak through your panties as his disparaging words burned against your spine like a hot brand. After the thirty-minute audio was finished. Your body trembling with the aftershocks of an orgasm that had come despite the lack of actual stimulation of your clit, and you panted on your bed.

Opening your phone once again, you quickly liked the new audio and typed out your comment.

listen, i know i always comment about how fucking hot this shit is, but i have /never/ fucking soaked through my panties… you just did that and i expect a full refund for these panties 💦

You pressed send and, without so much of a second thought, continued your night. You had dinner, talked with friends, and ended the night curled back on the couch with a wine glass in your hand and a simple sit-com playing on the TV. The familiar sound of the Patreon alert rang in your ear, and you frowned, confused.

Grabbing your phone, you opened up the device and nearly shrieked at the sight of the information the notification that said:

Hawks F.W.: lets see those panties before i refund anything

A chill ran down your spine as you quickly put together the indications of this message, and you smirked, despite your quivering hands. 

Me: I have a seven inch dick requirement before seeing any of the goods — yes, that includes my panties

And from that very moment, you began a strange arrangement between you and the NSFW ASMR artist Hawks.

.

..

.

Working was the worst part of your life, you would say.

At work, you would sit in your small 4x4 cubicle, your shelves stacked with plenty of papers and items you needed, not to mention the computer that took up the majority of your desk. You weren’t quite sure what your job here was, you sort of sat at your desk and did meaningless assignments when assigned, but you did nothing for the most part. 

Before becoming an active Hawks stan, you would spend your time doing nothing playing video games. You had somehow managed to install a VPN onto your hard drive so that your employers wouldn’t be able to see what was on your screen outside of the home screen. They couldn’t trace what you did all day, but they could care less, given you got all your work completed on time and done in an over exceptional way.

But lately, since you had dropped into this… engrossed whore like relationship with Hawks, things changed. 

To be honest, it still shocks you to no end when he tells you that he had always been aware of you. Well, with your consistent, ever appearing comments on his posts and overall enthusiasm for everything he posted, it was hard to not be aware. The mental image of your soaked through panties after a long day at his own work had sent him over the edge, and he finally messaged you.

Through the DM’s in Patreon, the two of you grew to become quite the friends with benefits. He would send you countless personalized audio files because you had quickly confessed to your voice kink and how his voice sent your stomach into hormonal knots. In return, you’d send the picture of an occasional soaked panty, and if he was lucky, an audio clip of your pathetic whines back to his audios.

You couldn’t complain about this arrangement.

But as the number of his patrons doubled, and he wanted to entice his subscribers with paying him even more money, Hawks began to offer a bimonthly personalized five minute audios for his $20 tier. The fans poured into that spot, and Hawks and proudly sent you the new number of adoring fans he was getting. On account of growing platforms such as Tiktok, the number of new listeners he got was nearly exponential, as he currently passed one million followers last week. 

The cheeky bastard was also making enough money to stop working his regular work hours anymore. Choosing to transition slowly into his Patreon career while recording.

Hawks, however, seemed to have other ideas for your eventual personalized voice audio.

Hawks had simply asked if, by any chance, you were going to be working tomorrow the night before. Groaning loudly in recognition of your work schedule, you had texted him back that you were going to be working. Snidely including the fact that you weren’t rich like him, you needed the tedious old nine to five job.

Hawks: how utterly boring anyway u can b free around 2?

Me: Eh… probably not. Busy girl w busy schedule, ill be back from lunch so no break Why?

Hawks: well, u knw tht uve been amzing & th bst follower so i wanted 2 give u smthing better then the personalized audio

Me: Oh? Well, what is it?’

Hawks: pick up tmrw n find out

He had changed the subject immediately afterward by dodging all of your questions with ease. So you dropped it, and the two of you resumed a night of flirting. But now, sitting in your small cubicle, your eyes flashing to the clock that read 1:57 p.m., sweat began to build on your palm.

You peered down to your phone as you waited for something, anything from Hawks to show up. The fucker was too cheeky, evasive, and quick for his own good. You felt like pouting as you glared at the phone, waiting for the screen to light up.

And you stilled when finally, at precisely 1:59 p.m., your phone gleamed with light. You couldn’t abandon your computer mouse quicker than you did as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it, and reading the message from Hawks.

Hawks: do u have earbuds?

Me: Yes?

Hawks: good put them on n pick up

The moment you had read the first message, you were already pulling out your earbuds, synching them up to your phone, and placing them into your ear. But your jaw dropped when, for the first time, the call feature highlighted onto the screen, the time immediately changing to that of 2:00 p.m. The decline or accept button had never looked as daunting as it did right now.

Despite the call trying to go through, you still saw his follow up.

Hawks: if u dont pick up u wont get shit

[Accept]

You felt your heart hammering in your chest as both fear, apprehension, and excitement boiled through your veins, the hammering blood pounding in your ears as you waited for some sort of noise on the opposite side of the line.

“Little dove?” Hawks' voices filled your ears, and despite yourself, you smiled softly. The naturalness of his voice sends warm thumps down your spine.

“Hi, Hawks,” you whisper breathlessly, your head already checking to make sure your neighboring cubicle mates didn’t try to look over the divisions to stare at you. For the most part, the office building was quiet except for the phone calls, the clanking of computer keys, and the monotonous music playing softly on the speaker's head. 

“Whatcha doing?” he drawled, and you felt your skin heat up when you heard the all too familiar sound of his shoes hitting the top of his desk, the soft whine of his chair as he leaned back onto it. “Are you really at work?”

“What do you mean, am I really at work?” you squeaked, half horrified at the way the lazy, warm heat of lust was infiltrating your body at the sound of his voice, and the annoyance that he thought you had been lying? “Of course I am; it’s two p.m. on a Wednesday!”

“Ah, so little dove-chan is a raging pervert who engages in phone sex to bypass her long hours at work?” Hawks sighed his tone that of understanding and dismissal. You splutter. “You never fail to surprise me.”

“I do not do… that!” you stammer, your face feeling like hot cinders, your fingers and eyes double-checking to make sure that the audio was going to your earbuds and your earbuds only. You also couldn’t help the way your eyes swept around you, trying to make sure you hadn’t accidentally invited unwanted attention. “I said I was busy!”

“But, you picked up my call?”

“You said, or else!”

“Mmm, okay, I think I see,” Hawks tutted, and although you had never seen what you supposed to be his handsome face, you could imagine a lazy, toothy smirk on his face. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind using your little cubicle to talk you into fucking yourself good for me.”

Your jaw drops.

It hits the desk, and the muffled shriek of utter humiliation is only silenced because you bit onto your tongue like a rabid animal.

“Aw, you sound so excited for me already, little dove. I bet you want to know what I’m going to do to you, don’t you? I just know that I’m going to make you feel so... good…”

“Hawks!” you plea in a hushed whisper, your heart hammering where you sat frozen like a deer in headlights. Sure, you had definitely played his audios before to pass the time, but never before in your existence had you had actual phone sex. This was riskier than just listening to his audios; his audios always had a pattern, a way to escape from the madness of his voice when people were closer than you’d like. But this? No, there was no escape. “I’m at work! I c-can’t!”

“But, fuck, I want you so bad,” Hawks' voice dipped into a gravely tone, his voice just perfectly scratchy enough that your shoulders trembled in unspoken, untouched want. “I want to feel your cunt around my cock, baby, your pussy is so hot and I want to be the fucking lucky bastard that gets to fuck you through your bed.”

“O-Oh my god…”

“I’ve been thinking of what your tits look like,” Hawks continues on, his voice continuing in the style you liked the most. It was raw, heavy, and deep. No character impersonations, just him, pure Hawks. “I hope they bounce the way they do when I imagine you riding me. I want to see you moan when I kiss the underside of your tit, I want to see your face when you realize that you’re my girl, nobody's else's, but mine.”

Heat floods your panties at his words, your shallow breaths making him chuckle on the other end. 

“You’d be so lucky to be just mine, wouldn’t you, little dove?” Hawks snaps, his voice demanding a response, and you heave.

You look around, no one is near, and you croak out: “I’d be so lucky.”

“Louder.”

“I’d be so lucky.”

“Mm, there we go,” Hawks laughs, and your ears prickle for any noise that may indicate that someone was listening in. “What? Are you getting nervous that your needy ass will be heard by your coworkers right now? Answer me.”

“Mhmm,” you hum loudly, your cunt pulsing with more incredible heat and your hands shaking with a slight fear of being caught.

“Aww, don’t worry, little dove. I’m sure your boss will understand that you’re my newest fucktoy and will let me continue. Maybe they’ll want to join in?”

You whimper softly, shifting in your seat at that thought. You didn’t really want your boss coming anywhere near you, he was old and gross for one, and nothing could take the place of this beautiful man's voice in your ear right now.

“Oh, was that a no? You don’t want other people fucking you, do you, y/n? I bet you only want to have my cock in your tight little pussy, bet you want to watch the way that greedy little thing sucks me in, begging for my seed. Would you want me to cum deep inside you? You would like that little dove; you’d like to be full of my cum.”

“H-Hawks,” you keen as quietly as you can, your hips shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your heart hammering in your throat. The pressing heat in your cunt is growing, your panties growing with wet slick as Hawks' voice whispers down your ear, filling every empty and void space in your brain until you were having trouble focusing on the very much public spot you were in.

Hawks let out a soft, guttural moan, and you froze, face entirely combusting into an inferno as the familiar slick slapping of his fapping cock filled your ear. Immediately, you forgot everything.

“A-Are you—?!” you splutter, unable to find the words or the energy to come up with a way to ask if he was masturbating right now. Your eyes spun, your mind in a complete haze as soft, raunchy moans spilled from his lips, striking against your nerves and soul with each successive sound.

“I’m only trying to help you out here, dove,” Hawks growled, undoubtedly in effect to a rather loud smack of his fist colliding with his thrusting hip. “You’re the little office slut who picked up a phone call to entice in phone sex. I bet you knew exactly what I was going to do, and your pathetic, needy whore self caved to my instructions.”

Your fingers curled into the armrest of your chair.

“I bet this makes your boring ass job tolerable, the perfect distraction to a shit job, then imagining a few minutes of fucking yourself against my hard cock.”

“That’s not true!”

“No?” Hawks laughed, not believing you any more than you did. “So you wouldn’t hate it if I showed up and fucked you into the wall of your cubicle? You wouldn’t mind if I claimed your sweet-smelling pussy against your desk for everyone to hear? I know you can scream like a bitch in heat. I know that pretty little cunt of yours would milk my cock dry. Oh, I just know you would look so fucking sexy with your back arched, eyes closed, and you begging for hours just to cum. You wouldn’t cum without my permission, right?”

You gasped, heart fluttering, hammering in your chest as you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“I need a verbal answer, little dove.”

The heat in your core was blistering, your thighs shaking with your unadulterated lust and need as you ground into the cushion of your chair. All logic and moral long gone as he snarled and moaned your name in your ear, the slick of his fapping cock echoing like a great bell in your ear. You wanted to hear him cum, wanted to listen to the pithering sound of his echoing moans as he spilled the contents of his balls onto his hand — and how you wished it was your womb.

“I won’t cum w-without your permission!” you whispered, your skin shivering with your fear of being caught. 

“God, you sound like such a dirty fucking bitch. I bet your pussy is fucking soaked already. Bet you really want to run that slutty embarrassed finger against your clit but don’t want to be caught by your perverted coworkers,” Hawks hissed, his breaths turning into steady, heavy hot pants. You mewl softly, confirming his spoken thoughts, and he huffs out a laugh. “How many fingers do you normally shove up that pretty cunt of yours, little dove?”

“T-Three!” you gasp, your forehead pressing to the cool of your desk, your eyes glazed over and looking at the entrance of your cubicle, fervently wishing that no one tries to check on you as you grind against your stable chair. “O-Only three fit.”

“Fuck, you really do have a tight cunt, don’t you,” Hawks snaps, the wet sounds of his fisting hand around his cock a beautiful melody in your ear that makes you whine at the back of your throat. “Bet you can’t even fit cocks up your cunt without lube, huh. You gotta stay on top, or else you’ll get hurt with how thick and long my cock will be up that baby pussy of yours.”

“H-Hawks!” you grit out, the friction of grinding on the seat no longer working.

“Go to the bathroom, now,” Hawks commands, the small gasps on his voice from his approaching orgasm more than enough ammo for you to do as told.

You sprint to the bathroom, the slick of your cunt hot, and evident to you as you sped to the bathroom. Your phone clenched in your hand as you locked the door behind you, glad the room was empty. Barely managing to get yourself into the stall, the toilet paper placed on the seat as you raised your legs up, already prepared. The skirt you wore was bunched above your ass, and the panties you wore, stretching out around your knees.

“Sounds like you’re ready to start fucking that pussy for me,” Hawks laughs, but there's no humor, just bite. “Put in three fingers, now.”

Without even arguing or caring, three fingers slip into your cunt, and you cry at the feeling of your fingers completely stretching you out. The smell of sex and slick filling your nose as your fingers slick up, fucking your tight cunt as you moan louder and louder for Hawks. 

“God, your fucking pussy is so fucking wet, I can hear it from here!” Hawks moans, the frantic sound of his drilling hips gaining speed and momentum. 

“I want it to be you!” you moan, your face burning in your humiliation. “I want it to be you fucking my pussy, claiming me in this bathroom. I need you, Hawks, I want your cock so badly!”

“Fuck,” Hawks gasps, something tumbling in the background. “Such sweet words for a fucking dirty ass cumslut,” he growls, and your legs shake, your clit and cunt thrumming with your increasing arousal and pit of tightness in your core. 

“HAWKS, FUCK!” you sob as your hips try to start a merciless speed against your fingers, your body trying to match the speed in which Hawks was fucking his own hand.

“Keep screaming my name, whore.” Hawks gasps, his noises of pleasure beginning to grow louder and louder, your eyes crossing in satisfaction. “Screaming my name like the fucking slutty mess you are. All this shit just to get me to fuck you? God, you’re so fucking pathetic y/n. Begging for me, begging for more? I think you’re my favorite little dove ever, gonna make you mine whenever I get to fuck that pussy.”

“Hawks!” you wail his name again, your arms and pussy throbbing with the energy it takes to keep up with his inhumane speeds. Your vision seeing stars as you tremble more and more, your legs slipping from the toilet seat, yet. “I am your whore, your little dove. Please let me come, please! You fuck me so well, fucking hell, please, I needa cum, I needa cum!”

“Cum with me,” he snaps, his voice so deep, so dangerously smooth. It was precisely what you needed, the voice kink you had for his tenor exactly fulfilled entirely with that simple, last command. And just like that, your jaw slackens, head slamming backward, and pleasurable waves crash through you.

Your fingers still rock at your clit, and your vice gripped walls, your toes curling within your shoes as you soundlessly scream. Hawks, on the other end, is practically snarling, voice deep and altogether dangerous as grunt after grunt leaves him, and you can imagine the milk-white cum splattered all over his chest and hand. A beautiful, perfect sight that you wish you could see for yourself.

Exhaustion settles in your bones as you sit on the toilet, still entirely exhausted as you heave for air. 

“I think that was the best fucking orgasm I ever had,” you mumble, your eyes closed, not ready to stand up and move. “Thank you.”

“I’m good at what I… at what I do,” Hawks stumbles, husky exhaustion ringing in his own voice. “Now, little dove, finish up work, and I promise there’ll be a surprise waiting for you when you’re done.”

Not entirely agreeing, but not disagreeing with his command to go finish you last… two and a half hours at work, you begrudgingly said goodbye to Hawks before washing your hands and exiting the bathroom.

When five o’clock came, you watched as your phone screen lit up, and your face flushed as you read the DM from Hawks.

Hawks: this is my fav audio now ↳ hawks_littledove.mp3 but you surprised me today, so in case u ever want to have more fun sometime  call me 03-9183-2495 ;)

#hawks smut #hawks x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

[lorenfangor]

so I guess today IS the day for an Auximorphs examination

with the prospect of a live action adaptation looming large (at this point I’m dreading it thanks to Jeffrennifer Bezoar and the Billion-Dollar Fanfic) I find myself considering the Auxiliary Animorphs and their fate, and how it’s sort of nebulously agreed upon to be horribly ableist that they were introduced only to die

because I pride myself on being contrarian, and because Nothing About Us Without Us etc, I feel compelled to offer up a competing argument - namely, that the Auxiliaries aren’t inherently ableist, and that tragedies can feature disabled characters or focus on a largely disabled cast and still be worth telling in some way. so I thought about it for a while, and I figured I’d hammer out a list of expectations/wants/do not wants/etc for a hypothetical movie or TV series that included the AAs.

(obligatory disclaimer: I am not a monolith representing all disabled people any more than I’m a monolith representing all indigenous people, my voice is really only my voice. I’m very interested in additional thoughts or critiques from others in the community largely because I know that this is an issue where consensus is basically impossible, and the more we talk about it and respect all our collective views I think we can achieve better intracommunity understanding)

so this is going to be a bullet point list, with explanation/details as needed. it’s not really in any particular order, just stream-of-consciousness stuff

I don’t think the Auxiliaries need to be introduced earlier. These are kids who’ve been institutionalized in long-term care for a substantial amount of time - James has been in there since at least 1987, if he’s the same age as the other kids, and possibly 1986 if he’s a year older. The tragedy of their story to me is that they could have been a substantial presence and a force for good, they could have been friends to the main cast, they could have been around and made everyone feel less alone, but societal ableism stopped them from doing that! It’s heartbreaking but it’s a real thing that still really happens!

on that note I think there’s a lot of debate to be had on the question of, like, competing access needs in this story specifically? I was warned as an adult doing my first proper series readthrough (I didn’t read all the books as a kid) that there was a horribly ableist plotline as part of the end battle, and I was braced for something awful based on what I’d been told, and I found a story that was genuinely empowering despite some clunky ideas about magical cures and that inspired me deeply. I wasn’t horrified, I wasn’t upset, I was honestly angry that I’d been told “hey this is ableist” when I didn’t think it was. of course other disabled people are going to have different opinions, which is why when I recommend the books I also warn for ableism, but I think dismissing the fact that there are disabled people who see all of this series as Good Representation would be a mistake in an adaptation process

continuing on in that theme, emphasize the societal ableism. Especially if this is an adaptation that includes Mertil and Gafinilan + Ax as Very Special Episode Learner (one thing I really think can’t be said enough is that often in VSEs it was fan favorite characters who expressed bad/offensive/unwoke opinions, to encourage audiences to challenge their viewpoints by watching people they cared about work through prejudices; that’s probably why Ax is the one who’s talking about vecols and acting ableist alongside the Star Trek Metaphor aspect). The human kids need to be held to account here, they need to make it explicit that despite saying “we value disabled people,” the reality is that disabled people were and are often isolated from their families and kept out of school. this is taking place in 1999, which is less than a decade after the Americans with Disabilities Act passed, and James has been in this institution since before the ADA. Despite the push to create spaces that are disability-friendly, these kids have been left behind. the parallels between “the isolation of the vecol” and the isolation of the disabled cannot be overstated.

introduce more internal conflict in their group, and more discussion that includes explicitly questioning whether or not Jake and the other Animorphs are recruiting them just to have them be cannon fodder. disabled people, including cognitively and intellectually disabled people, aren’t children, and we can make decisions for ourselves, and seeing people like Colette and Kelly raise questions that counter James’s “oh fuck yeah count me in!” enthusiasm will be realistic and will portray a broad spectrum of opinions that also fleshes out the cast and makes them feel like real people

make the Auxiliaries’ participation in the war about their own agency, not about how awful it is that the Animorphs recruited them. at the end of the day these are human beings with free will, and they say yes or no. Jake didn’t hold their hands down to the box or to various animals and force them to take part. true, they did want to back out and Jake told James it was his job to get them to their places, but James motivated them himself, he won their loyalty and respect himself.

keep James’s insistence that he’s part of a team and have him still stay at the facility with the others. his decision to align himself with disabled people despite having recovered is powerful and important and demonstrates serious solidarity. these are his friends and family and that doesn’t change just because his circumstances change.

I’d really like to see complicated feelings toward morphing-as-a-cure. I want at least one character who hears the explanation of how demorphing requires picturing yourself as yourself and who decides to opt out completely because they like their body as it is even with its problems, and I want people who choose the opposite. I want someone who cures themself and then feels ambivalent about it, or someone who can’t cure themself because they have a genetic disorder and who decides it’s actually fine. I don’t want everyone who has this option to feel the same way about it because not every disabled person feels the same way about it, and with a large disabled cast like we get with the Auximorphs there’s no reason not to engage with these concepts.

also, I want clear explanations of morphing’s inability to cure genetic disorders, and a link drawn between morphing-as-a-cure and self-perception. instead of making morphing something weird and nebulous with very few clear rules when it comes to deformity and disability, something as simple as “the reason Alloran has scars is because he likes having them” or “the reason Loren doesn’t have scars is because when she imagines herself she doesn’t include the scars, since she’s never seen them”. this will enable more conversations about preserving aspects of the self like pierced ears as well as form a better foundation for disability discussions

make it clear that the plan did not involve the Auxiliaries being sent off to die. Jake might have said some people would die and he couldn’t afford to care in his big inspirational speech, but his own internal narration doesn’t back that up. he even calls himself out for his hypocrisy and inability to hold firm to that ideal. keep the plan going wrong because the ship is in the air, keep Jake’s frantic begging, make their deaths tragic, make their deaths mean something. I don’t agree with the idea that their massacre is For The Manpain - deaths happen in war. This is a sad war story where all our heroes either die or possibly die. The Auxiliaries aren’t different here from the mains.

this is more of a request for the creatives going in, but I’d love it if people could interrogate the idea that the Auxiliaries’ deaths are inherently extra-sad or extra-tragic because they’re disabled. disabled people deserve to fight for our own liberation just like anybody else, and dying in battle because someone valued us as soldiers for the first time and enabled us to strike blows against fascist oppressors isn’t automatically a bad ending. many, many disabled people have died or been medically abused at the hands of family/guardians/the state/etc, and those people don’t have the chance to shoot a fascist in the head or maul a would-be invader who absolutely 100% will have them and everyone like them killed for not being genetically or physically or mentally good enough. this is a fight that disabled people have a right to be in, and dying in battle isn’t automatically a horrible ending that must be resisted at all costs because it’s inherently and irrevocably ableist.

obviously make the Auxiliaries count as characters for the short time they’re onscreen. cast disabled actors, including people whose disabilities are invisible! work with sensitivity groups and advocacy organizations that aren’t fronts for hate groups (no Autism $peaks) to ensure that the people who are being written about feel realistic! just because they’re only around for a little bit doesn’t mean they’re not memorable!

this is a very petty bitch but call out Walter and Michelle for acting like Cassie and the others have done something horrible. their “oh, honey, that’s wrong” commentary always felt infantilizing as hell coming from people who thought the Hork-Bajir were just very intelligent animals. if they’re gonna keep those views they need to interrogate them and grow from them, or else they need to be updated to have better perspectives

anyway those are my thoughts and I would LOVE further commentary. this is something I know we’re all going to have a lot to say about because that’s how we are, disabled people in fandom are incapable of shutting up about disability in fandom.

#animorphs #animorphs meta #auxiliary animorphs

[thefanficmonster]

Partner

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Spoilers for Resident Evil 8:Village, Swearing, Mentions of injury

Genre: Angsty Fluff, Comfort

Summary: Following the final battle in the Dimitrescu Castle, Ethan is surprised to stumble upon a person who witnessed the whole debacle, offering him a safe place to patch up his wounds and rest for a little while.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! So sorry you’ve had to wait so long but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and enjoy reading it! Love, Vy ❤

“That was...something else.“ Ethan Winters mutters to himself as he limps his way out of the Dimitrescu Castle which is now vacant in terms of residence - his doing. He killed Alcina Dimitrescu and her daughters, all arguably in self defense and with little guilt to follow. However, plenty of trauma’s definitely attached to him following the horrific events he had to go through and the things he had to see between the walls of those luxurious rooms hiding dark secrets of the vampires who took pleasure in torturing people, and wreaking havoc over the villagers who feared them.

“At least they won’t hurt anyone any longer.“ He tells himself, giving the monster of a structure one final look before he continues back towards the center of the village where he’s gonna rethink what he’s got to do next, gather his bearings, take a breath and keep going. He has no other option but to keep going, he won’t allow himself to quit no matter what danger he faces. In his mind, he’s convinced himself that he’s already seen the worst, it’s easier on him that way, it suppresses the fear he’d feel otherwise. The last thing he wants is to think what’s in store for him ahead, he’d rather focus on what’s up to him to do next.

“And we can’t thank you enough.“

The sudden presence of an unfamiliar voice startles him, causing him to whip out his gun and point it in the direction it came from. However, he quickly finds his deadly tight grip loosening ever so slightly because he realizes he’s pointing the barrel at a very human-looking and seemingly harmless person.

“Who are you? Who’s ‘we’?“ Ethan still refuses to let his guard down though, just cause it may not be a life or death situation, doesn’t mean this person won’t bring him trouble and Lord knows that’s the last thing he needs right now.

On instinct, the person takes a step back, “I speak on the behalf of all the remaining villagers. I mean, it was only a matter of time before we too became victims in the Dimitrescu Castle basement. I was next, actually, but the commotion you created allowed for me to escape. I owe you my life, foreigner.“ The speak hurriedly and in a hushed tone, as if the fear of their torturers overhearing them still lives within them despite the monsters being deceased.

“Glad I could help you.“ He nods curtly, remaining at the distance of seven feet between them, “My name’s Ethan Winters by the way.“

They give him the tiniest of smiles, “Y/N L/N, pleased to meet you.” Their gaze gives him a quick onceover, assessing the damage the horrors of the castle have inflicted on him. Their eyes widen in shock at the many bleeding wounds all over his body but what appears to rattle them most is the severe injury that’s causing his limp as well as the missing finger - a poorly wrapped would that has surprisingly not started getting infected yet. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I don’t trust you to take care of yourself either. I live in that windmill over there in the outskirts, come with me, I’ll help you with...well, with all that. You seem rather hopeless at medical care.”

While he could refuse their offer, he wouldn’t be able to deny the fact that they’re right - he knows the basics of first aid, but his injuries are far too gone for simple first aid, especially when taken into account that he doesn’t even have any supplies. How he’s not died from blood loss is a surprise to him as much as it is to them.

“What’s my guarantee you won’t turn on me?“ He finally asks after a decent amount of time contemplating it.

They shrug, “You have none. But, you have the guarantee that if I turn on you, you’ll be the one coming out of that altercation alive.” Their gaze sizes up the guns he’s got on him, emphasizing their point.

Suddenly, Ethan feels sorta ridiculous - after all, guns or no guns, he could probably take on them easily with just his knife. Regardless, no one can blame him for being cautious. “Fine.“ He mutters, “But please don’t turn on me, I’ve already had one hell of a day.“

Y/N nods, motioning for him to follow them, “I promise I won’t.”

                                                               *  *  *

“Wow, what a back-stabber! Some friends you have, Winters.“ Y/N comments as they set down a cup of tea on the small wooden table in front of the freshly patched up Ethan.

Turns out, he made the right move by trusting them - they used to be the village’s main nurse until it all went to hell and they went to hide in the shadows of their windmill where they, as evidenced, still are today. That being said, not only did they have all the necessary equipment to fix him up, but they also had the skills and knowledge needed to use that equipment.

“There are those friends who borrow money from you and never pay you back and there are those who shoot your wife randomly while you two are trying to have dinner. Two types of friends out there really.“ He sighs, his tired, a thousand yard stare following the path of the steam levitating from the cup that’s been placed in front of him. “I have no time to dwell on that right now though. My daughter is in grave danger and I have no idea where I should even start looking for her.“

Y/N sits down on a chair opposite his, “Well, you’ve already defeated one of the village Lords looking for Rose, process of elimination should reveal where she is - wherever she is, it has to be one of the Lords’ residence. Mother Miranda trusted Lady Dimitrescu most so it’s a wonder why she wasn’t there, but then again, Heisenberg’s factory is damn near impenetrable, one cannot enter unless he wants them to so she could have entrusted her precious cargo to him.”

“How do I get to that fucker?“ Ethan tightens his hand into a fist, squeezing so tightly his knuckles turn white. There’s so much within him, so much that’s happened to him, so much in such a short amount of time and he’s had no time to deal with any of it. He’s a volcano waiting to erupt, but he has to do so at the right time - in front of the right danger to show he’s not hopeless or weak as his opponent may think. “Where do I find him?“

“He’s in the outskirts too just on the other side of the village.“ They sigh, regretting every word they are saying since they know they are just feeding him information on how to get himself in the worst kind of danger he’s probably ever been in. “That key you have, it’s not complete to access his quarters yet. By the looks of it...“ they observe the key Ethan has placed on the table, “You can only get to Lord Donna Beneviento’s estate, and I wouldn’t suggest heading there before you heal at least a bit more. Her and her dolls are a real nightmare. Of course, I haven’t experienced it for myself, but the stories are enough to get an idea.“

“So you’re telling me I have to waste my time with the little fish before I can finally get to Rose? You know how long that’ll take? You know how long she’ll have to be at the mercy of a fucking lunatic until I can finally save her?!“ Ethan snaps, banging his fist against the table, bad idea considering his hand’s been just patched up. The impact sends a jolt of pain up his arm that makes him hiss.

“I get it, I understand, Ethan. But you are a lot less likely to get to your daughter if you’re dead, you know.“ Y/N cautiously explains, their eyes narrowing a bit as they wait for the pearl white bandages to soak crimson, sighing in relief when they don’t. “Speaking of how likely you may or may not be to get to her on time, I’d also have to mention your odds would be significantly higher if you were to receive help from someone else. You’d need someone to have your back throughout all the shit you’re about to go through, especially Heisenberg’s factory where two eyes are not enough to track each and every threat that might pounce at you.“

Calmer now, Ethan gives them a puzzled look, “What are you suggesting?“

“I’m suggesting - well, I’m offering you my partnership.“ They explain, watching his expression change to one of knowing and understanding. “Of course, you’d have to give up one of those guns and hand it down to me, but I think that’s a small price to pay in exchange for an extra pair of eyes and limbs to guard and help you.“

Ethan’s first instinct is to decline. He can’t afford to see another person dying around him or because of him, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. But then again, just like he had no guarantee they wouldn’t turn on him, he has none that they’ll die. Of course, he’ll do everything in his power to keep them and himself alive and they don’t seem like they are in it to half-ass it either. Quite the contrary, they seem perfectly determined and ready to face the same shit he’s about to.

“What do you get in return?“ He asks, his gaze suspiciously measuring each line on their face to gauge their true intentions. He’s a complete stranger to them, they’d have no reason to be this selfless for him, it’s obvious they are aiming at something bigger.

Y/N scoffs, leaning back in their chair with a small bitter smile on their face, their gaze resting on the tabletop and avoiding his, “You really wanna know? I want my revenge - revenge for what they did to this village, to me, to so many people I cared about and to those I didn’t even know. But...” they trail off, pausing to sigh out a heavy sigh before continuing, “But I also wanna redeem myself. I knew I should’ve done all in my power to stop them when their havoc was still on the rise, I knew I should’ve done more, but I didn’t. And now I’ll die trying.”

“You won’t die.“ He says sharply, barely a second after the last word left their lips, “I won’t allow it.“ He adds, taking a bit of the edge off his voice.

Their eyes come up to meet his, searching for what he means, “Does that mean...“

“It sure does, partner.“ Within the blink of an eye, his pistol is on the table, fully loaded and free for their taking, “You just give a green light and we’re off.“

Y/N lets out a sound between a laugh and a gasp as their hands quickly wrap around the gun, looking at it in disbelief before whispering a quick ‘thank you’. Ethan allows them to marvel at it for a bit longer but they don’t wait another second. “Get your ass up, Winters. We have monsters to kill.”

He needn’t be told twice

#resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil heisenberg #resident evil village #resident evil 7 #re #re 8 #re village #karl #heisenberg #resident evil karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg #resident evil lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #ethan winters imagine #rose winters #rosemary winters #mia winters #resident evil chris redfield #chris redfield #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #video game #video game fanfic #x reader #reader insert

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Wells Fargo can't stop criming

Wells Fargo is America’s third-largest bank. It used to be the largest, but it committed a string of terrible frauds that it was never truly punished for (it made more from crime than it paid in fines).

Its crime spree did result in one meaningful punishment: Wells was forced to downsize to #3, with a mere $1.77 trillion in assets.

Have no fear: Wells Fargo is down but not out, and despite its reduced stature, it is still engaged in egregious acts of fraud.

The latest scam? “Forex transposition.” Say you have an account with Wells where you get income in euros but need to spend dollars. Historically, Wells would have defrauded you with “Range of Day” pricing.

That’s where Wells converts your euros to dollars using the best rate (for Wells, AKA the worst rate for you), on the day you ordered the currency conversion. Currency prices move around a lot during the day, and this scam could easily double Wells’ commission.

But the Range of Day scam is a grift for the little people, not suited to kings of con like Wells Fargo.

Wells just paid $76m to settle a federal investigation into a much more ambitious and brazen scam.

https://www.bloomberg.com/opinion/articles/2021-09-28/wells-fargo-swapped-some-digits

As Matt Levine writes for Bloomberg, the new scam involved simply “making up prices,” while maintaining plausible deniability.

Here’s how that worked: say the W Range of Day exchange rate (an already crooked number) was 1.0241. Wells Fargo’s forex trader would exchange your funds at 1.0421. On big trades, that could cost you hundreds of thousands — even millions of dollars.

But you were unlikely to catch the error, and if you did, Wells’s trader would just apologize and say that they transposed the digits accidentally.

As crimes go, this is pretty unambiguous. It’s fraud. It made them a lot of money, and they only had to give some of it back.

That means they’ll do it again.

Of course they will! This is Wells fuckin’ Fargo, we’re talking about. They cannot stop criming.

In case you’ve forgotten about Wells’s crime-spree (it’s been a minute), here’s some highlights:

During foreclosure bonanza of the Great Financial Crisis, Wells led the pack. They literally broke into peoples’ homes, stole all their worldly goods and changed the locks, all without bothering to check whether they had the right house.

https://theintercept.com/2015/08/28/wells-fargo-contractors-stole-family-heirlooms/

Around then, Wells began to pressure its low-waged, young, precarious tellers to meet quotas on new accounts opened by existing customers. Its managers taught tellers how to fraudulently open these accounts. 2,000,000 customers were affected.

https://www.consumerfinance.gov/about-us/blog/what-you-need-know-if-you-were-harmed-wells-fargo/

These new accounts racked up millions in fees and penalties. Victims’ credit scores were tanked, costing them mortgages, access to student loans, and jobs. The executive who ran the program was given a $125m bonus.

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2016/09/wells-fargo-ceos-teflon-don-act-backfires-at-senate-hearing-i-take-full-responsibility-means-anything-but.html

The CEO — who took a $200m bonus himself — blamed low-level employees for the crimes. What he didn’t say was that low-level employees who blew the whistle on the scam were illegally fired.

https://money.cnn.com/2016/09/21/investing/wells-fargo-fired-workers-retaliation-fake-accounts/index.html

They fired a lot of whistleblowers.

https://www.bloomberg.com/opinion/articles/2016-09-22/whistle-blowers-and-good-activists

They didn’t just fire kids for blowing the whistle — they ruined them. After Wells fired a whistleblower, they’d add them to an industry database of bankers who’d been fired for doing crimes — people on that list can never work in the industry again.

https://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2016/09/26/495454165/ex-wells-fargo-employees-sue-allege-they-were-punished-for-not-breaking-law

Eventually, John Stumpf, the CEO who oversaw the crimes, resigned. The Wells board appointed a successor who insisted that the bank had no problems with its culture.

https://consumerist.com/2016/10/13/new-wells-fargo-ceo-recently-denied-overbearing-sales-culture-that-created-fake-account-fiasco/

Naturally, some customers who’d been stolen from sued. Wells asked a judge to throw out the case, because those customers signed away their right to sue when a Wells Fargo employee forged their signature on the paperwork to open a fraudulent account.

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-wellsfargo-accounts-lawsuit-idUSKBN13J1WX

The judge agreed.

https://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/06/business/dealbook/wells-fargo-killing-sham-account-suits-by-using-arbitration.html

Trump also liked Wells Fargo (he owed them a lot of money). Shortly after he took office, the Department of Labor’s site for Wells whistleblowers vanished.

https://nypost.com/2017/01/27/whistleblower-site-for-wells-fargo-workers-vanishes/

Wells Fargo’s got great timing. During the Trump years, so many of its scandals came to light — and were never seriously punished by Trump’s DOJ or regulators.

They stole millions with fraudulent “home warranties”:

https://theintercept.com/2017/08/12/theres-a-new-wells-fargo-scandal-this-time-its-the-trucoat/

They stole millions by ripping off small businesses with fake credit-card fees:

https://consumerist.com/2017/08/11/wells-fargo-accused-of-overcharging-small-businesses/

They defrauded 800,000 car insurance customers and stole (“improperly repossessed”) 25,000 cars:

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/07/27/business/wells-fargo-unwanted-auto-insurance.html

They tricked people who sought mortgage refinancing into scam packages that looked good at first, but led to waves of defaults and foreclosures:

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/06/14/business/wells-fargo-loan-mortgage.html

When Wells finally admitted it ripped off 2m customers with fake accounts and offered to pay them back, it created an opt-in repayment system, ensuring that most of its victims would never be made whole:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2018/02/wells-fargo-screws-customers-yet-now-failing-make-right-abuses-elizabeth-warren-demands-answers.html

The Trump tax cuts only emboldened the company: after having its taxes slashed, Wells cut 26,500 jobs, shuttered branches across the country, and firehosed money over its shareholders with a $40.6 billion buyback.

https://rooseveltinstitute.org/2018/11/07/what-wells-fargos-40-6-billion-in-stock-buybacks-could-have-meant-for-its-employees-and-customers/

Not all the shareholders were satisfied. Some of them sued because the company had not delivered on its promises to “restore trust” in the bank. The company’s defense? “Everyone knows we’re liars, so they shouldn’t have relied on our statements.”

https://www.latimes.com/business/hiltzik/la-fi-hiltzik-wells-puffery-20181109-story.html

I mean, they have a point. It was only months later when the company blamed a “computer glitch” for its theft of 525 homes from people who should not have faced foreclosure.

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/wells-fargo-loan-modification-error-homeowners-who-went-into-foreclosure-seek-answers/

There’s no such thing as a non-sociopathic giant bank, but even in the crowded field of crime-addicted financial firms, Wells Fargo stands out. The fact that they’ve paid $76m — instead of having their execs go to prison — means they’ll do it again.

And again.

And again.

#pluralistic

[turnstileskyline]

It’s August 4th, 2021, the 129th anniversary of the day Abby and Andrew Borden were found dead of supposed hatchet wounds in their Fall River home. The most famous, and most investigated, suspect was Andrew’s daughter, Lizzie. In this post, I will attempt to go through the timeline of the day as unbiased as possible, and then I will discuss the two most popular theories.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Discussions of murder, abuse, and illness.

The day of August 4th, 1892, started normally in the Borden household, with two exceptions. Lizzie’s elder sister, Emma, was on vacation in Fairhaven, and Andrew’s brother-in-law, John V. Morse, was visiting to discuss business matters.

At 8:45 a.m, Morse leaves the house to visit his niece, and Andrew sits in the sitting room. Abby tells Bridget, the family maid, to wash the windows inside and out. Lizzie comes downstairs for breakfast.

Between 8:45 a.m and 9:00 a.m, Bridget reports feeling ill, and leaves the house briefly to vomit.

At 9:00 a.m, Andrew leaves the house. Bridget returns inside, and witnesses Abby dusting. She does not see Lizzie.

Between 9:10 a.m and 9:30 a.m, Abby goes upstairs to clean the guest room where Morse was staying.

At 9:30 a.m, Lizzie stands at the backdoor as Bridget exits to the barn.

Estimated between 9:30 a.m and 10:00 a.m, Abby is killed by blows to the head.

Between 9:35 a.m and 10:20 a.m, Bridget washes the outside windows, pausing to speak to a person referred to as “Kelly girl” at the southern-most fence.

Between 10:00 a.m and 10:20 a.m, neighbor Churchill sees Bridget washing the outside windows.

At 10:20 a.m, Bridget re-enters the house and began to wash the indoor windows.

At 10:40 a.m, Andrew returns home and is let inside by Bridget after he fumbles with the key. Bridget hears Lizzie laugh from the direction of the staircase.

At 10:45 a.m, Andrew lays down on the sitting room sofa to take a nap. A neighbor witnesses a stranger stealing pears from the backyard. Lizzie sets up an ironing board. Lizzie tells Bridget that there is a sale at a clothing shop, and informs her that a note was left saying that Abby had gone out.

At 10:50 a.m, a neighbor notes that an open buggy was parked in front of the Borden home. Bridget begins to feel ill again and retreats to the attic to lay down.

At 10:55 a.m, Lizzie goes out to the barn.

At 11:00 a.m, Lizzie reportedly hears a noise like “scraping.” 

Between 10:55 a.m and 11:05 a.m, Andrew is killed from blows to the head.

At 11:10 a.m, Lizzie re-enters the house and calls for Bridget, yelling that “someone has killed father.” As Bridget comes down, Lizzie begs her to fetch a nearby doctor, Dr. Bowen. However, Bowen was not at home. Bridget fetches Lizzie’s close friend, Alice.

At 11:12 a.m, Churchill sees Bridget rush to get Alice and notices a distressed Lizzie. She questions what’s wrong, and leaves to get a doctor.

At 11:15 a.m, a neighbor notices the disturbance and phones the local police.

At 11:20 a.m, Bowen returns and enters the Borden household. Officer Allen arrives and sees a distressed Lizzie sitting at the kitchen table.

At 11:21 a.m, Allen and Bowen begin examining the body of Andrew. Alice and Churchill arrive with Bridget. Morse departs his niece’s house, not yet knowing of the situation at the Borden home.

At 11:23 a.m, Bowen returns to his home to send a telegram to Emma, informing her of the murders.

Between 11:25 a.m and 11:30 a.m, Lizzie asks if Abby has returned. Bridget and Churchill go upstairs to check and discover her body. Bridget fetches Bowen and his wife.

Between 11:35 a.m and 11:40 a.m, Officers Doherty and Wixon, along with reporter Manning, arrive at the Borden household. They are let in by Bowen. Andrew’s watch is removed by Wixon.

Between 11:35 a.m and 11:40 a.m, Morse returns to the Borden household, standing in the backyard.

Around 11:37, Officers Mullaly and Medley arrive.

At 11:40, Bowen returns and is informed that Abby’s body has been discovered upstairs.

At 11:45, Dr. Dolan arrives to examine the bodies. Morse speaks to an officer outside and claims he heard of the murders from Bridget. He then goes inside to examine Andrew’s body, before going upstairs to see Abby’s.

Between 11:50 a.m and 12:00 p.m, Bridget, Medley, Doherty, and another officer go to the cellar to examine the hatchets.

At 12:20 p.m, Officer Harrington arrives.

At 12:25 p.m, Harrington interviews Lizzie.

At 12:45 p.m, Doherty and other officers drive to Andrew’s farm to interview anyone working/living there.

Between 12:45 p.m and 3:30 p.m, I was unable to find adequate information.

At 3:30 p.m, photos were taken of the bodies and skulls.

At 5:00 p.m, Emma arrives home from Fairhaven. 

Between 5:00 p.m and 5:30 p.m, state detective Seaver arrives.

At 5:30 p.m, Dolan delivers the bodies of Andrew and Abby to an undertaker.

At 6:00 p.m, Alice leaves to return to her home. 

At 8:45 p.m, Officer Hyde reports seeing Alice and Lizzie enter the cellar, though no one else had seen Alice return to the Borden house.

And that’s that. That’s the recorded timeline that I’ve put together of the day. Now, I’ll be getting into the two most popular theories. 

Lizzie.

Lizzie Borden is the most popular suspect, and one of the most notorious women in American history. It’s easy to understand why she was the main suspect. Her close relationship with her father, her reportedly odd behavior, and her strained relationship with her stepmother, Abby. 

Lizzie and Abby had never had a familial relationship. Lizzie would refer to Abby as “Mrs. Borden,” and neither she nor Emma would call her “mother.” They were, though, mostly civil to each other. However, tensions rose when Andrew placed Abby before Emma and Lizzie in his will, as well as buying houses for Abby’s relatives. 

The placing of Abby as the first beneficiary in the will would have angered Lizzie and Emma, who were both unmarried and were thus financially dependent upon Andrew. Were he to die, Lizzie and Emma would then have to rely on Abby. Though Abby was not reported as showing any anger towards Lizzie and Emma, the relationship was strained on both sides. 

I can’t talk about Lizzie without mentioning the relationship between the sisters and Andrew. Lizzie was the youngest daughter of Andrew, and when she was a teen, she gifted her father a ring, which he would often wear or carry with him. This was odd due to the fact that those who knew him would often say that Andrew was not sentimental. Emma, on the other hand, still held a cold relationship with Andrew. Emma and Lizzie’s biological mother died when Emma was 13, and Emma very quickly had to take on the role of mother to Lizzie. Andrew was reported as having refused help from outside family members, preferring to keep a quiet, closed doors family with Lizzie and Emma.

By all accounts, the family relationship was cold, even from the time that Lizzie was a child. It was Emma and Lizzie together, against Andrew and Abby. Except, of course, for the relationship between Lizzie and Andrew.

If this relationship was as inappropriate as it seems, then Lizzie truly was, at the time of the murders, trapped. Lizzie never knew a mother, as she never formed a relationship with Abby. Andrew was her only parental connection, and even if there truly was no inappropriate relationship occurring, he was still a cold man who was more of a household leader than a father.

For those who believe that Lizzie committed the murders, there are various motives given. The two I have mentioned, financial dependence and abuse, and more. One popular theory is that Lizzie was having a secret affair with Bridget or Alice, and this affair was found out, so Lizzie committed the murders out of fear of punishment or exposure. 

Usually paired with the abuse theory, it’s also commonly thought that Lizzie had cared for pigeons in the barn, which were then killed by Andrew as punishment.

Once more, it’s very easy to see why Lizzie was a suspect for all the reasons I’ve mentioned. As well, her testaments following the murders were contradictory. Officers reported that she seemed aloof (although, it is important here to note that neighbors noted that she was distressed and that she simply presented her emotions in a different way.) There was a bucket of bloody clothing in the cellar. It seemed as if Lizzie would have been the only one able to commit the murders.

John Morse

John Morse has gained popularity as a suspect in recent years, as people have begun to poke holes in his alibi. 

Morse was the brother of Andrew’s first wife and the biological uncle of Lizzie and Emma. But he seemed to have a closer, though businesslike, relationship with Andrew.

The day prior to the murders, Morse came to the Borden household for a surprise visit, discussing finances and business with Andrew. It’s commonly reported that this discussion grew into an argument, ending with Morse losing. 

Despite this, and his profession as a butcher, Morse was dropped as a suspect very quickly, due to him having an alibi that seemed rock solid. Almost too rock solid. He provided numbers of streetcars and buggies that he passed, made sure to strike up public conversations, and took notes of exact times. Morse left his niece’s house a minute after the officers first arrived at Lizzie’s, despite the fact that he had not yet learned of the murders. 

When he returned home, he told an officer that he had heard of the murders from Bridget. However, he had not had access to a phone nor a telegram in the time between him leaving his niece’s house and his arrival at the Borden house. Prior to him leaving his niece’s house, he would have had an eight-minute to receive a telegram or phone call, although his niece did not report that. In those eight minutes, however, Bridget was with Churchill and Alice, and would not have had the time to send a message to Morse. Though it would be easy to say that Bridget may have met him outside and informed him, according to all reports, Bridget remained inside with the rest of the household.

Interestingly, Morse also knew where Abby’s body was despite not being told.

As much as neither of these theories can be proven, they cannot be disproven either. Unless we one day uncover new evidence that alters the case, any theory could be true, even ones that I didn’t mention here. Perhaps it was a snubbed employee of Andrew’s, perhaps it was the man stealing pears, perhaps it was whoever owned the buggy parked by the Borden house, or perhaps it was Bridget. None of these, we can definitively say, happened or didn’t happen.

All we know is that, 129 years ago today, Andrew and Abby Borden were killed in their Fall River home, but the legacy of their mysterious end lives on.

#woooo hoooo woohoo #ill be queing this to reblog thruout the day #lizzie borden #lizzie #lizzie the musical #lizzie (2018) #um thats all i can think of . #yeah. #please rb. #i did a lot into this lol

[deadstrangeblog]

The Clown Mistress

For centuries, clowns have been either loved or loathed figures in society. With their garish makeup and expressions, it’s no surprise that coulrophobia is one of our most common phobias, and even if you’re ok with clowns, you’ve got to admit that they’re a little bit creepy. Just do a quick Google image search of Krinkles the Clown or the Original Ronald McDonald, and you’ll see what I mean. If you’re an avid true crime fan, you’ll know all about John Wayne Gacy. Gacy’s alter egos Pogo and Patches produced some of the most iconic photos in the true crime world, with the haunting images of him grinning from ear to ear in full clown costume being the stuff of absolute nightmares. In spite of his capture, the notorious killer once joked that “A clown can get away with murder”. That can’t be said for Gacy, whose capture in the May of 1968 brought an end to his terrifying span of serial murder. It could be said, though, about the bizarre case of Marlene Warren.

On Thursday, May 26th, 1990, 40-Year-Old Marlene Warren was eating breakfast at the table of her Florida home. It was a normal day for the Warrens, who lived in an exclusive community in Wellington known as the Aero Club. Each property in the Aereo Club had access to a private runway, and this was a must-have luxury for it’s wealthy residents. Marlene was married to Mike Warren, and the pair met after her first marriage to John Arhens fell apart. Mike’s natural charm as a used car salesman was sure to benefit him in the dating game, and the pair hit it off right away. Marlene had two sons to her first husband, John Jr. and Joe. The boys got along with Mike with no trouble at all, and Joe even recalled that he was “the only dad I knew.”

Mike and Marlene soon discovered they worked remarkably well as business partners too, and they owned several businesses together. They opened up a car dealership called Bargain Motors, and the business was relatively successful. With the profits, they were able to buy several rental properties on West Palm Beach, a racehorse, and even an airplane, and soon enough, their riches were able to buy them a property in one of Wellington’s wealthiest communities. It was safe to say that Mike and Marlene were an unstoppable force, and everything was working in their favour.

However, tragedy struck in the Autumn of 1988, a tragedy that would test any family’s strength. On September 23rd, 1988, John Jr. died in a devastating accident when he was just 22-years-old. At 10:57 a.m, he was driving his 1983 Datsun when for some reason, he decided to jump a red light at the intersection. Another car ploughed into him, and he was pronounced dead at the scene. The death of her oldest son ripped Marlene apart, and the grieving process took a toll on everybody. Speaking about the death of his brother, Joe recalls that it was at this time in his mother and stepfather’s life that their marriage began to fall apart. He said that “He wasn’t around as much as he should have been.”

Probably craving affection from his grieving wife, Mike made the immoral decision to have an affair with a co-worker, 26-year-old Sheila Keen. Sheila worked for Mike, regularly repossessing cars for him and dealing with the accounts. At the time of John Jr.s accident, she had recently divorced her husband, Richard, telling the divorce courts that she was regularly the victim of domestic violence by his hand. All these factors made Mike and Sheila the perfect recipe for adultery, and rumours soon circulated after Sheila moved into a property owned by Mike. In fact, Mike even paid her rent, and neighbours regularly saw them together at her West Palm Beach apartment. Yet still, Marlene was working hard and soldiering on for the sake of her son. Joe, was 21-years-old, and he needed his mother’s support at such an important age. 

That morning of Thursday May 26th, 1990 was a day like any other. It was going to be a Memorial Day Weekend, and combined with the pleasant spring heat that Florida offered, everybody was in a great mood. Marlene Warren was eating breakfast with her son and a few of his friends when a white Crysler LeBaron pulled up outside their home. Nothing was unusual yet, as the luxury car brand was a common sight in Wellington. Imagine the family’s surprise though, when a clown stepped out of the car and began walking up the path toward the house. Amused, they could see that the clown was carrying an array of balloons and flowers, and the knock at the front door proved that this was an elaborately set-up gift by someone. Marlene went to the front door and opened it, and Joe heard his mother say “Oh, how pretty.” And then, an unmistakable sound pierced the silence of quiet suburbia: Two gunshots. Joe ran to his mother, only to find her laying in a pool of her own blood and cradling her face. As he tried to make sense of the shocking events, he saw the clown speed away in their expensive car, and Joe could finally see what had happened: A clown had just knocked on his door and shot his mother in the face.

Marlene was rushed to Palm Springs Hospital, but it was no use. Two days later, she succumbed to her devastating injuries. Joe Ahrens had just lost his brother, barely a year and a half ago, and now his mother was gone too. Mike Warren was nowhere to be seen. He was hundreds of miles away, partying with friends and betting on horses at the racecourse. His alibi was pretty tight, and he seemed devastated when police broke the news to him. However, hours later, police received an anonymous tip from a woman saying that they should look into Michael Warren and a woman named Sheila Keen. 

Police were now confident Sheila and Mike Warren were having an affair, and this was the primary motive for Marlene’s murder. However, they needed evidence. There was no sign of a white Crysler LeBaron, no gun.... no clown costume. They appealed to the public, and sure enough, two employees from a nearby Publix came forward to say a woman matching Sheila’s description had bought the exact ensemble of flowers and balloons, just two hours before the murder.

Just down the block, employees working in a costume shop that very same day told police that Sheila had purchased a clown costume from them and had asked them for enough white makeup to “cover herself entirely”. In a nearby parking lot, a white Chrysler LeBaron was found abandoned. Inside, a few curly orange fibres were embedded into the car’s upholstery; the kind of orange fibres you’d get from a orange clown’s wig.

Despite all this, police felt they didn’t have enough evidence to prosecute Sheila Warren for the callous murder. With such basic DNA technology back then, they couldn’t scientifically link her to Marlene’s case. She went on to marry Mike Warren (the widow of her victim) and the pair soon relocated to Tennessee where they opened a restaurant.

In 2017, new evidence emerged that saw Sheila arrested. It took John Moran Jr. 27 years to clear his conscience and provide police with a vital witness statement. He said "I did not want my children to have to live with knowing their grandfather was part of Marlene Warren's murder,". Her trial is currently ongoing, and if she is found guilty, it’s thought that she will receive the death penalty.

#true crime #criminology #wtf #weird #serial killers #serial killer #murder #court tv #court #clown #clowns #creepy #true crime addict #psychology #criminal psychology #forensic psychology

[flowerzchild]

WHY I BELIEVE ELRIEL IS ACOTAR 5

DISCLAIMER: As you have read from the title, this post is strictly pro-elriel and my personal opinion. If you don't agree or don't ship them then kindly move along no need to be mean to people on the internet over their personal preferences and opinions.

THE CASE OF THE BONUS CHAPTERS

In my opinion, if you base your argument that Elain and Azriel will not be together by only using his bonus chapter alone then it is very unwise.

As it stands, Azriel’s bonus chapter is only extra content that can be not read by the readers. This is proven by its accessibility only extends for US readers, even then the book that contains the chapter is only sold by one bookstore chain so many US readers don't have the chapter unless they are engaging in the fandom.

The same goes for Feysand’s bonus chapter. Granted, there is nothing altering in Feysand’s bonus chapter except to give us a little insight into how they came to name Nyx and them discussing Elain and her potential. However, there is one major line that makes it clear Elain’s book is next.

“Let’s focus on helping one sister before we start on the other”. (FEYRE’S BONUS CHAPTER IN ACOSF)

The line above had no business to be in Feysand’s bonus chapter if Elain’s book is not next.

Why? Well, the bonus chapters are placed at the end of the book and by the time we arrive at that chapter Nesta’s story is very much told.

Like, Sarah has said, I don’t think Nesta’s journey is finished, what I am saying is that her story is been told then it will go to the other sister, Elain.

Thus, for me, those two chapters only intend to be a confirmation of Elain’s book and Azriel as her love interest.

Now, if you want to argue that Azriel’s POV is a confirmation that he and Gwyn are mates then it should’ve been included in the actual book.

What I mean by included is his apparent ‘mate behavior’ toward her or hell anything resembling romantic interactions.

Why? So that casual reader also notices there is something going on between them.

Now, what is the purpose of Gwyn being in the bonus chapter? When you look back at the actual book, you will notice one thing that is mysterious about her: her singing/voice.

Nesta reacted to her singing and so did Azriel’s shadows. No, I am not saying she is 100% a lightsinger, I am saying that her presence in the bonus is meant to give us a little clue of her power not her and Az as mates. Like I said, there should've been something romantic between them that is included in the actual book. Their interactions in ACOSF are incomparable with Elriel's interaction.

But again, we shouldn’t base our argument on chapters that many may think not exist. The main evidence of the next book should be from ACOSF itself.

ELAIN AND ELRIEL’S BOOK CONFIRMATION IN ACOSF

Elain who seemed to be very compliant and passive suddenly show the other side of herself in ACOSF that take everyone by surprise.

Elain who everyone thinks is a people pleaser suddenly talked back to Nesta when she was about to be coddled.

Elain who has been passive since the original series suddenly volunteered to help find the dread troves or anything to help resolve the Koschei situation.

Now that Nesta couldn’t find the missing trove because she lost her powers and Feyre bound by the death bargain with Rhysand, who else the inner circle turned to?

Now, that Koschei is still a threat, which female character that was from the original series side character that had a connection with him and that’s been highlighted the glimpse of change in character throughout ACOSF?

You may argue that Elain showed little development in ACOSF, however, she is set to be the main character.

If she is not set to be the main character then it would make sense for her development to be in the background of another character’s story.

A main character’s character development is a part of their narrative journey to become a developed character at the end of the story (as we’ve seen with Nesta and Feyre). Therefore, we need to read it from their inner thoughts to witness and make sense of the scenes that make them a changed character.

Also, may I add that Nesta’s development was regressing not developing in ACOFAS but her book is next, isn’t it?

Now, when we have established that Elain is the next main character based on ACOSF alone, we must now analyze who will be her love interest.

It is either to be Lucien and Azriel (Tamlin never in the equation just because they are associated with flowers and no Elain doesn’t want to be coddled she literally talked bak to Nesta when Nesta doesn’t let her scry, where do you get that Tamlain shipper?).

Let’s compare their last interactions in ACOSF, shall we?

“Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.” (ACOSF, CHAPTER 58)

vs

“...Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly...” (ACOSF, CHAPTER 58)

We have these two interactions between Elucien and Elriel in the same chapter as if Sarah herself wants to point out the obvious where Elain’s feelings truly lay.

I know Elriel's confirmation is probably not very convincing for some people. However, we must take into account both characters’ personalities.

If you have read Azriel's bonus then you will notice that Elain is very shy around Azriel (she was shaking and nervous when she gave his present remember?) and Azriel tends to mask his emotion when he is in the presence of others (Nesta is the one narrated their charged glance).

So yes, that scene is enough confirmation for their attraction, they are naturally quiet and shy. I expect no less from them as a confirmation especially when we don't have their POVs when we initially reach that part in ACOSF.

A POSSIBILITY OF GWYNRIEL/ELUCIEN BOOK IS NEXT?

The only way I could see Gwynriel getting a book is if their book is a novella.

As I have made a post here, Azriel and Gwyn do not have a direct (read: major) relation to the main plot that can carry it to its peak in ACOTAR 6.

Because of that their book should be a novella since nothing major happen in their book except that maybe they got together.

However, we know that the novella’s release date has been pushed back and forth and Sarah herself admitted in her March Instagram live that she doesn’t know what the novella is going to be.

So it safe to assume that the next installment will not be the novella, rather, the full book or the actual book which inherently will be Elain's and by default Elriel's.

The next book could be about Elucien if only they have interactions at all in ACOSF so that it will build up their unresolved conflict. I’m basing this argument on Nesta and Cassian’s interaction in ACOFAS.

In ACOFAS, despite the fact that Nesta and Cassian were fighting there were indeed interactions between them that must be resolved. Instead, in ACOSF the only interactions that actually happen and need to be solved are between Elain and Azriel.

“He’d been replaced in training by a stone-faced Azriel, who was more aloof than usual and wouldn’t even give her a smile.” (ACOSF, CHAPTER 59)

The thing that needs to be resolved between them is explained by their misunderstanding that happened in his bonus chapter.

Yes, I am aware that I said we shouldn’t base our argument on his bonus chapter, however, the line above is a direct callback and outcome to what happens between Elain and Azriel as well as Rhysand’s warning in his bonus chapter.

How else you’re going to explain why Azriel became more aloof than usual if not resorting back to that particular fight between him and Rhysand because of Elain? How else you're going to explain why Elain and Azriel suddenly stop interacting after they are confirmed to be attracted toward one another?

Regardless of our contrasting opinions and interpretation of Azriel’s POV, we must remember that it is a bonus chapter and those scenes in his bonus might not be canon for those who have not read it or learned of its existence.

Also, in order to speculate the next book's main character, we need to get past the barrier of romantic interactions and actually think about what the next main character will contribute to the main plot of the story.

As it stands, only Elain can carry a book by herself regardless of any romantic subplot. And because Elain’s book is next and we’ve seen close to zero interactions between her and Lucien then her love interest will be Azriel.

Elucien and Elriel have been built up alongside each other since ACOMAF, and yet only one of them that’s progressed and is being set up when it comes to the plotline. So yes, Elriel is the endgame.

#elriel #pro elain #elain archeron #pro elriel #anti elucien #anti gwynriel #azriel

[bullworthdrabbles]

Women in Bullworth: Zoe Taylor

TW: discussions of sexual abuse, trauma, CSA, Mr. Burton's ped* bullshit, self-harm, and other not-great stuff.

This one is super long and full of hard stuff to talk about don't read if you are not in the right headspace.

Oh boy, this one is going to be one of the hardest to write for me because I love Zoe and I know so many who love her as well. Then, there’s also a lot of triggering content in her story that needs to be discussed but hits me very close to my chest. This will likely be very long and particularly scathing due to just how frustrating Zoe’s story (or lack thereof) is to me. As a victim of CSA, this particular post is going to be very hard for me to discuss and will take me a long time to fully articulate. I’m sorry for how long it has taken me to write this, but I needed many breaks and to rant to several friends in order not to type all of this in all caps and through various curses.

Before I really discuss the tropes and stereotypes like I usually do I need to discuss the fact that as I write this series I’m seeing the unfortunate pattern arise of Rockstar sloppily using sexual violence against women in their stories without doing their research, taking the time to consider the consequence that happening would have in someone’s life, and just what message they are sending with how they tackle these kinds of stories. Sexual abuse and teachers using their power to take advantage of teens and minors is an unfortunate reality that does happen in high schools. I can understand the idea of wanting to discuss this issue when your game is set in high school where these things can happen, but this type of story is horrific and to do it justice requires a sensitivity Rockstar simply didn’t deliver.

The bully wiki and the game itself states that Zoe was expelled from the school for reporting Mr. Burton's sexual harassment and based on the previous missions involving this disgusting man we know Zoe isn’t the only victim. Does he ever get held accountable? Does he face any sort of punishment despite Jimmy quite literally being a witness and having evidence thumbtacked to his wall of Mr. Burton's disgusting behavior that he made Jimmy also take part in? No, not really, he only gets “fired” at the end of the game, and by “fired” I mean you still see him walking around the school like nothing happened, still saying the same shit and having access to underage girls. If it was just the lack of accountability I could interpret this as Rockstar taking a very bleak but realistic look at the situation. I could maybe think they were trying to show the disgusting truth that victims are almost never believed even with a mountain of evidence stacked against the perpetrator. They could be showing that it takes so much traumatizing bullshit just to try to get justice only for nothing to happen.

However, they messed up this story almost comically which makes me think it was just a cheap way to get her out of the school because they clearly didn't think about how abuse and a violation of someone’s bodily autonomy would impact an actual victim. I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t simply flip a portapotty onto the person who harassed and violated my bodily autonomy. I'm not a generally violent person, but I do think about harming my abuser in incredibly violent ways because of how much bullshit he has put me through. Rockstar never has her dealing with the side-effects and real mental toll this kind of abuse does to a person unless it’s time to make it a funny mission. Turning real horrific trauma into nothing more than a motive for a prank. Then there’s the dialogue of her talking about liking older guys, which I want desperately to believe is Rockstar trying to insinuate that Zoe is coping with her trauma via hypersexuality. Hypersexuality is a common unhealthy coping mechanism for survivors of sexual trauma, they purposely seek out sexual encounters as a way of reclaiming power and bodily autonomy sexually. It can also be seen as self-harm behavior if the survivor is having lots of purposely unprotected sex. But Rockstar clearly didn’t do enough research into sexual trauma responses, much less the basic realities of surviving sexual trauma, so I highly doubt that they even considered this when writing these lines.

Unfortunately, Rockstar was just trying to make her a “not like other girls” stereotype, I bet you thought I wasn’t going to bring it up but sadly I am. Zoe is one of the better-written female characters, but that isn’t really saying much when all the other girls are just cardboard cheap conflict and plot devices. We actually know a lot more about her background than we do the other girls, does it really change that she doesn’t serve much of a plot-significant role? Nope. Does this change the fact that Rockstar once again used sexual trauma as a cheap mission fodder? Nope? Is she allowed to be more than just a health pack, quest giver, and reward? If you think her being the “girl the protagonist gets with at the end” counts maybe, but to me, nope.

This was hard for me to say as it was a hard pill for me to swallow, but literally, all of her traits that separate her from the other girls are just so they could make her a “Tom-boy” and “not like other girls” stereotype. They don’t make her a fully formed unique person where her past, experiences, and traumas actually impact who she is as a person. No, they needed a final love interest for their protagonist so they just took his character traits and story and made some similar dialogue as the dialogue for Gary ( we can all admit there was something going on before the betrayal between those two) then slapped it onto another ginger, now with boobs. The funny thing is she doesn’t even seem that interested with Jimmy until the very end, their whole relationship seems forced and rushed so Rockstar fucked even that up. They clearly had a lot of ideas they wanted to touch on but because of their own unwillingness to take the time to flesh her out instead, we got...well everything I said before.

I’ve said it a thousand times and I will say it again, a lot of these problems could have been avoided. Rockstar could have taken their female characters seriously, could have written them well if that was one of their focuses, but it wasn’t. I love this game and I love a lot of these characters but I feel that even if this game provided me years' worth of comfort and entertainment, it should still be called out for its issues and how it mishandles very serious and sensitive issues. I hope this series and my thoughts on these characters made you think about your own writing and works you see making similar mistakes. I can tell that none of these errors came from a place of malice, but deep ignorance and works that perpetuate said ignorance can send harmful messages to people. I hope by shedding light on this I may make you re-examine the messages you see surrounding female characters in media and their stereotypes. Thank you for reading my incredibly long rants.

#sa tw #csa tw #cce discussion #bully canis canem edit #canis canem edit #women of bullworth #bully anniversary edition #bully brain rot time #bullworth academy #bully scholarship edition #bully game #cce bully #bully cce #cas speaks

[starswornoaths]

Wild Rose

Not long before the formation of the Crystal Braves, Minfilia bequeathed a special set of armor unto one of the Warriors of Light.

It was just a surprise that it wasn’t her favorite one.

Or:

I love Minfilia, and the Wild Rose Cuirass, and Firion, and none of them get a fair shake, and they all deserve better. Also, I fawn over @holyja‘s Hyana Geriel, but what else is new :p

Word count: 2,558

~*~

When Minfilia asked for Serella to hold back a moment, at the conclusion of their mission report, she couldn’t hide her surprise; there had been others in attendance— several others had been in attendance— Hyana among them, and it had been a mundane enough operation, what would merit being spoken to alone with the Antecedent? And why Serella, specifically?

Even Hyana had a look of mild surprise, and had hung back, bouncing in place on the momentum of her abandoned mid-step to turn back, before she could stop herself, and the two Warriors of Light passed that expression between one another for a moment. 

Before Serella could even think to reassure her, Hyana had retrained her features into immense disinterest. Rather than words, she reciprocated Serella’s silent nod of reassurance, a quiet we’ll catch up later, shared between adventurers, and within the next moment, Hyana had wound her spindly, scaled tail round the door handle to shut it behind her, on her way out.

And then it was just Minfilia, and her most stalwart companion, just as she had asked.

“Is aught amiss?” Serella asked, once she had properly faced the Antecedent.

There was nothing but peace radiating off of Minfilia, as she shook her head. When she spoke, her words were sweet, but not sweetened; though she charmed as she spoke, her charmspeak was nowhere to be found. 

With a radiance found only in the warmest sunrise, Minfilia reassured her, “Naught more than we’re already working on! I wished only to speak to you, regarding a matter close to both of our hearts, I should think.”

Curiosity piqued, Serella canted her head in a quiet show of interest, to avoid interrupting. It was obvious that Minfilia was nervous: even without her Echo’s sensitivity to emotions, from the tick of Minfilia’s fingers tapping at the pommel of the dagger, ever slung close to her hip.

When it was clear that Serella was waiting for her to elaborate, Minfilia steadied her hand by laying it over her heart. Her smile eased into something softer, as she said, “I felt it high time to bequeath to you a fitting reward, for all that you have done for the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.”

“How formal of you, Antecedent!” Serella laughed brightly, and mirrored her Antecedent’s motion, to tap a hand over her chest in momentary salute. “That’s not necessary, though. You know that.”

“I do. But it’s necessary to me.” 

When Minfilia smiled at her again, it more resembled a wince. “Grant me this one trespass, my friend?” 

Serella wanted to snort indignantly: Minfilia should know better by now. Still, she reminded her, “You can’t trespass where you’re welcome, Minfilia.”

It seemed she had, in fact, been in need of a reminder; her smile widened around a startled, delighted gasp.

“For all my ability with charmspeak, you seem to always know just what to say!” Minfilia beamed at her. “Thank you. Pray, grant me a moment to find the right words to explain, while we walk.”

With another nod from Serella, they made their way out of the Antecedent’s chambers without further delay. As they rounded the bend to walk past the bar counter, Serella turned and happened to catch Hyana watching them hawkishly. There was a burning curiosity in those garnet eyes that watched them; Serella hoped the smile she threw back at her was reassuring enough. Judging by the way Hyana squinted in response, she figured she had failed. Ah well.

The armory itself was as well stocked as it was unremarkable; Serella had been in here more times than she could care to keep track of, in the time since they had moved to the Rising Stones. She could only imagine how many more times Minfilia has had to come in here, for routine inspections, and scheduled maintenance. 

Rather than keep to the main room that Serella had grown familiar with, Minfilia instead guided them over to a door in the far corner of the room, one that Serella had noticed before, but had never had the clearance to inspect— or at least, had no merit to ask, at least. 

A key wrought in iron cleared the way for them, and Minfilia ushered her inside. It was dark, but there was no smell of must that hung in the air; this room still had consistent use, even with its limited access. Save for the singular slice of light that had carved a misshapen streak in the floor, Serella’s eyes could only make out the outlines of several suits of armor, and several miscellaneous weapons, all carefully hung on racks.

Holding the door open with one hand, Minfilia brought the other up in front of her, as she leaned toward the lantern hung on the wall. She scattered her breath over her palm, as though she were gently blowing away the fluff on a dandelion. The air from her lungs ignited in petal-like sparks, that drifted, intently, to the wick on the lantern. Immediately, the mageflame flickered to life, clinging to the wick on the lantern, without burning it. 

Dancing leaves of light fluttered in the air over her palm, as she then swept her arm out, as though she were presenting the room. Those fractals of light scattered, striking the other lanterns in the room in streaks of brilliance, like comets across the night sky.

As it always did, Minfilia’s radiance filled the room with warmth, light, and life. The details became much clearer, and Serella made a noise in the back of her throat, as her brain caught up with what she was looking at.

The suits of armor draped so carefully, the weapons mounted so meticulously, became obvious in the light: this was the reliquary, from the Waking Sands, wherein they had enshrined the arms and armor of heroes past, recovered and restored. 

Serella had wondered whether they would make the move to the Rising Stones, alongside them, but then, she supposed that she needn’t have bothered; some of the pieces here belonged to Minfilia’s father, according to F'lhaminn. It only made sense that they would be here, then.

With another wordless motion, Minfilia beckoned her deeper. Obeisant, Serella followed gamely, curiosity mounting with every step. Worming through the boxes that had yet to be unpacked, the yet barren racks, and the odd armor rack with only some of its set unboxed, they eventually came up to a particularly intriguing set, tucked away in the corner.

Serella had certainly seen other sets that had been designed in the same vein; an understated darksteel set, tasteful embellishments here and there, draped with fine fabric that looked as though it were spun from lilacs. The detailing on the fabric was more bold, patterned, and pinned with a labradorite brooch, at its shield-shoulder.

Combing through her oldest memories, Serella would almost swear she had seen this specific like elsewhere. As if in the fairytale book, read to her as a child, as she had dreamt of a brighter future than this.

Minfilia seemed content to let Serella ruminate on this, as she gathered her thoughts. After a breath, she explained, “It feels as though it were a whole other lifetime ago, the last time I gifted one of my best suits of armor. But the time felt right again— though I must ask that you forgive me, as it comes with a personal request.”

Serella couldn’t hide her surprise for anything today, it seemed; she recalled how Arenvald had been so proud to wear the armor that Minfilia had gifted to him, when they had only known the Waking Sands, and the Waking Sands had only ever known peace. Before those halls were so filled with ghosts, that the living all but vacated.

As Minfilia said: a lifetime ago.

Were it almost anyone else, Serella would have to fight the urge to roll her eyes at being asked a personal favor. But this was Minfilia; if anyone understood what, precisely, she was asking of Serella, it would be her.

Thus, her response was as swift and decisive as her sword strokes, when she said, “You need only ask; if it’s in my power, it will be done.” 

It seemed both the right and wrong thing to say; Minfilia was graceful enough that it was only the ripple of hesitation in her aether, that betrayed her lingering uncertainty. 

“I would bequeath to you this armor— it is among the oldest of our recovered arms and armor.”

Though Serella got the impression that Minfilia was stalling, to try and find the right words, for the heart of the issue. Thus, she entertained listening to Minfilia recall a tale of a Warrior of Light, not unlike Serella herself. “His friends called him Firion,” the Antecedent supplied. “By all accounts, he was a good man, who defended all against the darkness— those who fought alongside him, included. I thought the tale sounded familiar!”

The playful twinkle in Minfilia’s eyes was only answered with a wry twist of scarred lips, though only for a moment, before they both dissolved into delighted giggling.

“Go on,” Minfilia said, once they had gotten their breath back, with a gesture toward the display. “Try it on, won’t you? It’s been fitted.”

With a sigh and a smile, Serella stepped up to the rack, and settled for being grateful that she had dressed down from her armor, upon return to the Rising Stones; it made donning the mantle simpler.

Despite being told that it had been refitted, it still surprised Serella, how well the armor settled on her shoulders. How the cloak draped elegantly around her neck, over her shoulders, how the layers of fabric that lined the belts were made of the supple, soft purple fabric. It hung on her form, as though it had been hammered for her from the first. As if it had always been made for her.

Rowena must have overworked poor Gerolt again. That, or Uthen took on a more personal commission, this time around. Serella could think of no other hand to guide a hammer to making such an impeccable craft, save for either of them.

When she turned to present herself to Minfilia, the Antecedent gave a gasp, as she clapped her hands together, once, in delight.

“Why, it looks just right on you!” She declared, with a giddy bounce on the balls of her feet.

Serella believed it, unquestioningly, because Minfilia always told her the truth. She was one of the few people that Serella could trust, to do so.

“You honor me, Antece—”

“Stop.” Minfilia said, though it sounded like a plea, and shattered her voice on impact, like a brick through a church window, ruining something blessed. 

It sounded wrong. Serella snapped her jaw shut with a click more audible than the rattle of her new mail, when she flinched bodily. 

A motion Minfilia mirrored, though she flinched outward— even in her own upset, she could only think to reach out to comfort. 

“I— I’m not asking, as your Antecedent, that you take this armor.” She said, and slowly curled her arm back into her own chest, as if to self soothe. “Please. I’m asking, as your friend, to accept this gift.”

Softening her shoulders, Serella swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Alright, Minfie,” she said softly, and held her hands up in reassurance. “I’ll put it to good use.”

The relief that she felt, when Minfilia’s posture melted into joy again, was indescribable. It felt like benediction, and dispelled the tremor in her heart. 

Thus settled, she peered around, curious, and searching for a set that would be more befitting one more beloved to them both. When no such mail was forthcoming upon cursory view, she couldn’t hold back the question that formed on her tongue, following that observation.

“What of Hyana?” She asked, looking back at Minfilia. 

The Antecedent seemed surprised at the question. “What do you mean?” She asked, tone touched with a hint of caution.

“If I may speak as a friend?” Serella asked. At Minfilia’s nod, she answered plainly, “You love her.”

The comment didn’t bother Minfilia. It had no reason to. Nonetheless, she fiddled with her hands in front of her, and shuffled her weight from one foot to the other, as she contemplated her choice of words. 

“That I do. But we both know her: she would never accept it, as a point of pride, and, in part, in reluctance to have something so claiming, upon her person.” After a moment of further hesitation, Minfilia stepped close enough to flatten her palm across the spot over Serella’s heart. 

She focused her gaze on the back of her hand, pressed there over the breastplate, as she cautiously spoke again, “And...you love her, too. I know, in giving you this armor, that she will be safer.” After another moment, she lifted her gaze, to meet Serella’s. “I have little choice, in sending the both of you out there, to face such horrors as the Ascians may inflict upon us. But I can give you the best chance, of bringing her back to me.”

There was a peculiar ache, in the space where Serella’s heart was meant to be. Not quite raw, not nearly a wound, but still something tender and pointedly ignored. Where Minfilia might have, however unknowingly, pierced something too close to the truth and most certainly unrequited, Serella chose to fill that hole with pride, with joy.

And why would she not? She was a trusted friend to both of them. Trusted enough, by Minfilia, to be sent into battle with armor she could never hope to properly deserve. Trusted enough, by Hyana, to fight alongside her. 

Was that not, in itself, a sort of love? What had she to mourn?

“As you say, my friend.” Serella said, on a soft exhale, and laid a hand atop Minfilia’s. “On all counts. I pray I will be worthy of such trust.”

“You already are, my friend!” Minfilia insisted.

When her eyes glimmered peculiarly in the lamp light, the two of them embraced tightly, and took a few more moments to be human. Not long enough to form the habit, but long enough to be reminded of the feeling.

By the time they stepped back out of the armory, and Minfilia locked up behind them, none were the wiser, that such a conversation had happened at all. 

Hyana had most certainly noticed, however, the new armor that gleamed to an almost headache-inducing shine, in the light of the Rising Stones. Her eyebrows met her hairline, as she watched Serella approach.

“The hell'd you do, to earn that?” She snorted into her drink, and poorly feigned disinterest.

The truth settled heavier upon Serella’s shoulders, than the mantle she now wore. How could she profess to love Hyana, if she were to inflict such a thing upon her.

“My fucking paperwork, Geriel!” She instead half-lied, with a playful elbow to the Dragoon’s side.

A half truth was still true enough to slip by, undetected, it seemed, as Hyana rolled her eyes, and grew immediately bored with the conversation. As was her wont.

Serella took no offense; how could she, when Hyana then pressed a flagon into her hands, with a half-restrained smile. How could she, when that was, in itself, a little act of love, too?

And wasn’t that enough, for her? Wasn’t this, enough?

#ffxiv #Minfilia Warde #Serella Arcbane #Hyana Geriel #vague 2.0 spoilers #Two Woman Wolf Pack #they're fine and everyone is fine and I don't actually mean that in a sarcastic way #like sure. Serella would love to be loved by Hyana. possibly even Minfilia. #but she doesn't have to be loved romantically by either of them to still be loved #so like. it's bittersweet #but it's not bad. and it's not a loss.