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oldblog-ileft · 1 year

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Reqs open?👀👀

How about the octotrio with a gn!reader who has an hyperfixation on sea creatures?

Feel free to ignore

❤️❤️

Octotrio w/ sea creature-hyperfixated Reader

gender neutral!reader, fluff, can be viewed as platonic or romantic, reader is implied to be yuu (it's kind of outright stated in floyd's-)

aaaa my first request!! tysm i hope you like it!!!

Azul Ashengrotto

~ i feel as though he'd be a little... unnerved at your hyperfixation and thus vast knowledge on the sea and its inhabitants at first

~ to him, it feels odd to know that a human is so knowledgeable about a place so limited to their eyes

~ he's also quite jealous

~ you know all of this regarding his home and he could barely understand half of what happens outside of the water for the longest time, he says he doesn't pout but he absolutely thinks back on it later and finds his lip sticking out

~ he's still learning what a small percentage of the animals on land are after spending two years here and you know borderline everything about sea creatures without having actually visited the sea! hmph! not fair, he tells you!

~ he gets used to it pretty easily, and even finds himself able to relax by talking to you about things under the sea (🎶🎶)

~ it's nice to be able to talk to someone he feels comfortable with and knows will understand, aside from the tweels of course

~ he'd definitely be a little flustered if he found out you had a specific favoritism towards octopi

~ "that's me!! i'm one of those!!!" he's proud, let him have this

~ he's probably one of the best to info dump to because he's least likely to get up and walk away because he's bored like the tweels would

Jade Leech

~ he's only interested because he's glad there's finally someone around that understands hyperfixating like he does

~ jade absolutely hyperfixates on mushrooms and so there's a mutual understanding between you two

~ he's not as excitable and in your face about his hyperfixation but it's certainly there

~ you both tend to info dump on the other because neither of you really mind and you understand

~ you both go out of your way to indulge in the other's fixation

~ jade won't admit it aloud but he loves when you go on hikes with him and help him search for mushrooms or knowledge of them

~ in return, he goes out of his way to try and show you various sea dwellers, such as taking you to beaches or storing them in octavinelle for your visits

~ of course, nothing that would outright kill you if it was near you but... some have gotten pretty close

~ hyperfixation solidarity

Floyd Leech

~ i can't see him caring much at first tbh

~ he probably wouldn't even remember, he'd hear it, and then it's already gone from his mind moments later

~ but having a fixation on sea creatures probably helps you remember who his nicknames are for because you can actually recognize the traits he's lined up with people

~ that catches his attention because, really, the only one who can keep up with his nicknames is jade

~ he had an entire moment when he found out where he just got all giggly and started listing off his nicknames for people and you would answer with the person he was referring to

~ you become a lot more interesting to him after that, now whenever you bring up your surplus of knowledge, he doesn't quite pay attention to it but he does acknowledge it

~ you have full reign to make a joke about how you should start cleaning his teeth since he calls you shrimpy

~ he will take it as an invitation and jade will get involved and you will now be tasked with brushing the teeth of two eels

(masterlist)

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech #twst floyd #floyd leech x reader #jade leech #twst jade #jade leech x reader #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #azul ashengrotto x reader #is a raven like a writing desk

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hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 4 months

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Can i get a drabble with the numbers 1 2 7 and 10, please?

Hi, Witchy-shortcake! Of course you can! Thanks for requesting this, and for your patience, here you go! I hope you don’t mind, but I took some creative liberty and made this one hero x villain, I think it really works for the combination you gave me :). Also, big thank you to @thelazywitchphotographer for the idea!

from this ask game

Villain ducked into an alleyway while the cops ran right past them. Breathing heavy, they laughed to themselves.

“Idiots,” they panted.

“Mm…”

Villain nearly jumped out of their skin, turning to the source of the sound. In the corner of the alleyway was a disheveled figure curled in on themselves. Villain breathed a sigh of relief- just some vagabond. Although, that vagabond was dressed in oddly shiny and bright clothing. Villain approached them and their eyes went wide as they held in a gasp.

“Hero!?” they exclaimed.

Villain took a good look at them. Hero’s suit was torn in several places, revealing angry gashes that were seeping red. One of them also dripped a bit of green- an infection. Their eyes were glazed over and stared into nothing, and their forehead was coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

Villain crouched down on Hero’s level, waving a hand in front of their face. No reaction from Hero. Drugged most likely.

“Who did this to you?” they whispered, mostly to themselves.

Without really thinking about it, Villain swept Hero up into a bridal carry, earning themselves a weak yelp from the crime-fighter.

“Shh, I’m sorry,” Villain said, “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Villain started the trek back to their base, Hero going limp in their arms.

…

Hero came to several hours later. Villain sat up a little straighter from their spot at Hero’s bedside.

“Hi…” Hero croaked.

“Evening,” Villain replied, “who did it?”

Hero looked away, pretending not to understand them. Villain saw right through that.

“Hero,” they said, more sternly, “what happened?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Hero mumbled.

“It most certainly does!” Villain countered sharply, “if you won’t tell me, I’ll find out myself, and when I do, I’ll make sure they don’t receive an ounce of mercy.”

“Okay, okay!”

Hero took a deep, shaky breath before continuing.

“I found out something I shouldn’t have,” Hero admitted “about my team. They found out about it and… well, this happened.”

Hero gestured to their wounds, which Villain had bandaged up.

“They couldn’t take me at my full power, so they, uh…”

“They drugged you,” Villain realized.

Hero nodded.

“They wanted it to look like an accident,” Hero said bitterly, “wouldn’t want their reputation ruined.”

“That’s going to be the least of their worries when I’m through with them,” Villain said, standing up.

“Villain-”

“Don’t try to stop me, little Hero,” Villain said, “I have no objections to making you a captive.”

“What are you going to do to them?” Hero asked.

Villain’s eyes darkened.

“Everything they did to you, and more,” they said, “only I have enough decency that everyone will know it wasn’t an accident.”

With that, Villain left the room to go make the necessary preparations. Hero was tempted to try and stop them, but they could barely sit up, much less get out of bed and go after them. Villain would make sure Hero’s entire team would pay.

Patreon

Ko-Fi

Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

#writeblr #writing #creative writing #whump #hero x villain #snippet #heroes and villains #as requested #drugging #villain caretaker #team whumper #hero whumpee #ask game #whump ask game #hurt/comfort ask game

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luvtonique · 4 months

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Last night, a fuckin miracle happened

Tonight, at midnight, a payment is going into my credit debt that will completely eliminate it, and last night, $2000 was sent from my account to my friend Nemo to finalize paying him back for his loan that got me out of debt 4 years ago.

Tonight, at midnight, I will be debt free.

This is thanks to two donors, who donated a total of $8000 within 14 minutes of one another, wishing me a debt-free escape from California.

I have been attempting to contact them. I got in contact with one of the two, who donated $1000, and he's a complete bro and I fucking love the guy, gonna make him some pixel art as a thank you.

The other, she seems to have no means of being contacted that she left with the payment, and I can only hope she sees this.

I want to let her know how life-changing her $7000 donation is, and reward her as well with a pixel art piece.

I will also be asking both of these donors, assuming I can get in contact with the second one there, if they'd like to design characters for Melodi to be permanently immortalized in the game, even if just to give me names to give characters I design myself.

AND THERE'S A SECOND BIT OF NEWS.

Not only am I debt free, but I now have enough surplus of cash to print and ship Full Service Playing Cards Series 4.

It's been 2 years, and the guest artists have changed slightly due to some falling-outs I've had and opinions of me having changed. I also already raffled off the refunded guest-character slot from someone who didn't want to be in the deck anymore and wanted a refund.

I am redoing 100% of my art for the deck, and will be ordering the decks and personally mailing them out to the list of crowdfunders that I've been holding onto for the past 2 years.

I will be, before shipping, e-mailing every single backer of the original crowdfund and asking them if their shipping addresses have changed.

That's all!

Thank you so much, you two, this is literally life changing.

It's time to make good on this and never let this shit happen again.

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hopepetal · 1 year

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Part nine pog :D I have no strong feelings about this one but hey at least it's done hallelujah

We have some content warnings for this one! Graphic depictions of violence, murder, blood, kinda cannibalism ig?

Masterlist

@applestruda @stiffyck

Magic is a fickle thing.

When people are born, they all have life energy. This is what keeps them, well, alive. It is the beat of their heart, pumping blood through their veins. It is the inhale and exhale of air, the hum of the earth and the music of the stars. It is the feeling of peace one has when finally laying down in their soft bed after a long day. It is the joy in laughter, the tenderness in love, and the healing after heartbreak.

To say someone is born with magic would be, while widely socially acceptable, is factually incorrect. To be born with magic is to be born with a surplus of life energy that manifests itself in what everyone calls “magic”. Hence, magic is not something anyone is born with, but rather a side effect of life itself. Magic is energy, and a very demanding energy at that one. It must be used, for otherwise it will build and build until it breaks through whatever tried to hold it in.

For Scar, his magic was like water. The less he used it, the more he held it in and tried to control it, the hotter it got. Every time he suppressed the growing urge to transform, the pressure built. Soon, it was as though his magic was simmering under his skin, just about ready to boil over if he wasn’t careful. It was harder than he would’ve ever thought. Borrowed magic, contractual magic, or otherwise non-naturally received types of magic were much more heavily reliant on emotions than magic one got naturally, and the past few days had been… emotionally charged, to say the least.

Scar knew that Grian had noticed his condition. At this point, he couldn’t do anything about the white streak in his hair or the soft glow to his eyes. His fingers had begun to become pointed into claws that pierced through the palms of his hands whenever he clenched his fists, drawing blood. The avian was glancing over at him in concern, every so often leaning slightly closer and brushing his shoulder against Scar.

“I know,” Scar had whispered when Grian’s eyes flicked up to his white hair. He had shrugged, trying to keep a handle on the worry that was beginning to rise in his chest. He had never gone this long without using his magic before, ever since he got it he had always done his best to go along with his instincts and general “magic urges”. Cub had told him it would be bad if he fought his magic.

But going along with his instincts and letting his magic get the best of him was the whole reason he was in this mess. He hurt his friends. This was just the price he had to pay for his mistake.

Grian and Scar were walking along in silence for the most part now, with Opal and Fern both in front of them, talking too softly to be understood by the two walking behind them. Every so often Opal or Fern would look back to check on their captives, but for the most part Grian and Scar were left unsupervised.

Which gave Grian the time he needed to cut through the ropes tying his hands together behind his back. Brushing his shoulder against Scar to get the other man’s attention, he grinned and held up the cut ropes with one hand and used the other to press a finger against his lips in a silent shushing motion. He shuffled over to be right against Scar, starting to work on the other man’s bonds.

Opal and Fern seemed to be in the middle of a heated discussion, meaning they weren’t paying any attention to the two knights walking behind them. Scar felt the ropes around his wrists loosening, then finally dropping. He fought the urge to shake his arms out to get the blood flowing again, settling with rubbing his hands together and interlacing his fingers behind his back. His eyes met Grian’s and he tried to silently ask what the plan was. Met with nothing but a shrug, Scar had to hold back a groan.

Oh boy. They were both going to die.

So focused on the fact that they didn’t have a plan, Scar didn’t notice that Fern and Opal had stopped walking. He slammed right into Fern, which caused him to yelp and stumble back. The two turned around as Grian cursed and drew the small dagger he had been hiding, flaring his wings out in an instinctual defense mechanism to make himself look larger than he actually was. In doing so, he pushed Scar behind him and obscured the other knight from their captors.

There was no time for talking then. Fern and Opal instantly drew their weapons and attacked, and Grian was barely able to keep up. It was over too quickly for Scar to do anything- one moment Grian was standing and shouting insults at their captors, and the next he was pinned to the ground on his stomach and Fern’s sword was at Scar’s throat.

Scar put his hands up, smiling nervously. “Hey, hey now, there’s no need for that!” His eyes flicked over to Grian, who was struggling against Opal as she put a knee on his back between his wings. “Hey, be careful!”

Fern pressed their sword against Scar’s throat, just hard enough to draw blood. “Shut up,” she snapped, before glancing back to Opal. “You got more rope?”

“Yeah,” Opal grunted, still trying to keep Grian down, “but not enough for these stupid-” She squawked when one of Grian’s wings, which she had been so desperately trying to pin down, smacked her in the face- “these stupid wings! Void, will you stop?!”

“Let us go!” Grian shouted, trying to kick at Opal, his wings still beating the ground as he attempted to get her off of him. “You’ll regret this, just you wait!”

Opal let out a frustrated growl, her hand tightening around the hilt of her sword. For a moment, she seemed to hesitate, glancing over at Fern. Her eyes were dark, and Scar felt anxiety rise in his chest as she spoke. “You have a health pot in your bag, right?”

Fern frowned, keeping her sword at Scar’s neck as she nodded. “Yeah, I have a few. Always do. Why-”

Opal interrupted Fern as she stomped down on one of Grian’s wings, earning a shriek from the avian as the limb was pinned down. “I’m cutting off these stupid wings.” With that, she raised her sword to do the deed.

Over the course of four or five days- really, who was counting anymore- Scar had been suppressing his vex magic. It showed in his too-sharp nails, his eyes that had turned an icy blue, and his fading hair color. It showed in the slight tremors in his hands, the bags under his eyes, the pain that just kept building and building in his chest as he tried to hide an essential part of himself.

Magic does not fade. Once in existence, it will continue to circulate until it is used. When a person uses external magic without a spell focus or an idea of what they’re doing, they are simply putting their magic back out into the world, allowing it to become ambient magic. When a spell is chanted, or used with intent, the magic forms into something real. Of course, this is only for those who use external magic- for Scar, a user of internal magic like transformation, things are a bit different.

For internal magic, the basics are the same. It does not fade. But unlike with external magic, internal magic does not have anywhere to go. It cannot become ambient magic and rejoin a cycle through the world like external magic. It can only build up until eventually, it forces itself to be used.

Scar’s vex magic, being internal, was influenced by emotion. Not so much where he would get scared and his hair would turn white, but when he felt a strong enough emotion, he would change much more easily than normal. For example, a strong feeling of rage would leave him with glowing eyes and white hair for a while, until he could get himself calm at least. And that was just on a normal day.

Scar’s vex magic had been building up for the past few days. It was simmering under his skin, a raging tide ready to break free at any moment.

And break free it did.

Scar’s eyes burned blue as the color instantly fled from his hair, his skin changing to be the grey-blue of the vex. His nails sharpened into talons and a growl ripped from his throat as he grabbed the blade of the sword and yanked it away from Fern, not caring that his hand cut and bled. Fern let out a panicked shout as they stumbled back, giving Opal pause. She looked over just in time to see Scar lunge forward and tear through Fern’s chainmail chestplate, talons ripping through both armor and flesh.

Fern let out a choked wail as they fell back, blood pouring from the wound as she frantically tried to put pressure on her injury to stop the bleeding. Opal pulled her sword away from Grian and swung it at Scar, but it was too late. The vex was already right in front of her, and with a cruel snarl, he bit down on her throat before tearing away a huge chunk of her flesh. Choking on her own blood, Opal fell.

Scar let out a roar of anger, the sound haunting as it echoed throughout the forest. In the distance, a wolf howled in response. The sound of a goat horn cut through the screams of death and panic, and Scar whipped around to see Fern blowing into the horn. His anger surged, and as fast as lightning he was at Fern’s side, yanking her up by the collar of her shirt. “You,” he growled, his voice echoing with magic, “what have you done?”

Fern spat in his face, and in return Scar tore out her throat. Throwing her body to the ground, Scar looked around, his brain screaming at him to find them all kill them they hurt you they hurt your friends-

But so did you.

A haunting wail rose from his throat as he sank to the forest floor, knees hitting the dirt with a painful thump as his magic continued to rage and swirl around him. The veritable hurricane of magic formed misty blue ribbons of smoke around him, miniature bolts of lightning at his fingertips as sparks of raw, burning magic flew from his glowing eyes. Blood dripped from his chin and talons as he screamed in agony, failure echoing in his voice. Hugging himself tightly, his talons dug into his skin, drawing small beads of blood that dribbled down contrasting blue skin in bright scarlet red.

The howl of a wolf sounded again, this time much closer. Scar could hear there was someone shouting- his name he thinks, but he can’t hear much over the magic roaring around him, whipping his magic-bleached hair in his face. His eyes were now glowing completely, shining like miniature suns as the magic just kept pouring out of him. The dam had burst, and it was impossible for him to stop it.

There were more people now, Scar could see a faint blur of red and white through the haze of magic. He let out an echoing cry, reaching out with bloodied hands toward whoever was there, his anger and fear giving way to a crushing loneliness and grief. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He had never meant to hurt anyone, really! He just messed up- he always did, why was anyone surprised- and… and he just…

“Scar! Scar, can you hear me? It’s okay, please. We’re here for you.” Grian. That was Grian, that was his friend… “Come on, please, it’s okay. We’re all here for you, and we’re not leaving you ever. No matter what. Promise.”

The magic died out as soon as it began, and Scar felt himself hit the ground. Darkness descended, and with one last sob, he let go of consciousness.

Impulse and Mumbo followed behind Pearl as she led them through the forest. They had left their horses back further in a secure location with plenty of food and water. They would be a lot more stealthy on foot, Pearl had explained, and the other two agreed.

Impulse had frowned when Pearl said she’d be bringing Tilly. “I don’t see how the dog is crucial to the stealth mission, but…”

“Excuse you!” Pearl had exclaimed in mock offense, “Tilly is very important! Yes you are girl, oh yes you are!” And with that, they had set off, with the dog that Pearl kept insisting was a wild wolf.

They had been close to their destination when they heard screaming, and the sound of a goat horn. Tilly howled, and Pearl stiffened up, looking back at Mumbo and Impulse. “Something’s wrong.”

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” Mumbo muttered, and the three had taken off in the direction of the commotion.

When they had gotten there, it took all Mumbo had to not freeze up in horror. Scar was in his vex form on his knees, magic as sharp as a blade swirling around him. He was covered in blood that Mumbo could only hope was not his own- something he confirmed upon seeing the two bodies next to Scar.

Glancing over, he noticed Grian on the ground, struggling to push himself up. He rushed over and helped the avian to his feet, checking him over to make sure he had no grievous wounds. “Grian! What happened- are you alright?!”

Grian winced, nodding. “Scar, he’s- I need to help him!” He sounded desperate, and Mumbo had to hold him back to keep him from running straight to the vex.

“It’s dangerous!” Mumbo warned him, “do you see that magic? You’ll be ripped to shreds!”

Grian pushed Mumbo away. “We’re knights! It’s an occupational hazard!” He took a few steps forward, before kneeling down and calling out to Scar.

As he spoke, Tilly began to growl. Pearl glared at the treeline, drawing her sword. “Others are coming. Most likely summoned from that goat horn.” She looked back at Mumbo and Impulse. “I need you two to get Grian and Scar out of here, alright? I can handle this.”

Impulse shook his head, stepping forward. “Absolutely not. We’re knights. We stick together.”

Pearl raised an eyebrow. “Are you doubting my capabilities? Go. Grian and Scar need you more than I do.”

Mumbo turned to look back at Grian and Scar as the magic storm died down, the color seeping back into Scar’s hair as he collapsed. Grian caught the other knight and held him close, though he looked close to passing out himself. Mumbo brushed his hand against Impulse’s arm, jerking his head toward the two other knights. “Pearl’s right. We should go.”

Reluctantly, Impulse nodded and sheathed his sword. “Right, then. We’ll meet you back at the horses?”

The sound of footsteps and faint shouting grew louder as Pearl nodded. Impulse scooped Scar up, and Mumbo helped Grian to his feet. “I’ll see you all soon.” She turned away, pulling up her hood and facing the sound of the approaching enemies. Tilly padded up to stand beside her, growling softly.

Impulse looked over at Mumbo and smiled wearily. “Let’s get out of here.”

By the time they were back at the horses, Pearl was already there- covered in blood and smiling brightly, but there nonetheless. Grian had passed out halfway through the trip and was now being carried by Mumbo, though there were moments of semi-consciousness that made the mustachioed man chuckle.

Carefully, the unconscious knights were settled on the horses, with Impulse sitting behind Scar and Mumbo sitting behind Grian to keep them steady. Pearl spread her wings, saying she’d watch from above and keep an eye out for them all.

Slowly but surely, they began the long journey home.

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 months

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‘Enshittification’ is coming for absolutely everything

Cory Doctorow: Last year, I coined the term “enshittification” to describe the way that platforms decay. That obscene little word did big numbers; it really hit the zeitgeist. The American Dialect Society made it its Word of the Year for 2023 (which, I suppose, means that now I’m definitely getting a poop emoji on my tombstone). So what’s enshittification and why did it catch fire? It’s my theory explaining how the internet was colonised by platforms, why all those platforms are degrading so quickly and thoroughly, why it matters and what we can do about it. We’re all living through a great enshittening, in which the services that matter to us, that we rely on, are turning into giant piles of shit. It’s frustrating. It’s demoralising. It’s even terrifying.

I think that the enshittification framework goes a long way to explaining it, moving us out of the mysterious realm of the “great forces of history”, and into the material world of specific decisions made by real people; decisions we can reverse and people whose names and pitchfork sizes we can learn. Enshittification names the problem and proposes a solution. It’s not just a way to say “things are getting worse”, though, of course, it’s fine with me if you want to use it that way. (It’s an English word. We don’t have ein Rat für englische Rechtschreibung. English is a free-for-all. Go nuts, meine Kerle.) But in case you want to be more precise, let’s examine how enshittification works. It’s a three-stage process: first, platforms are good to their users. Then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers. Finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, there is a fourth stage: they die. Let’s do a case study. What could be better than Facebook?

Facebook arose from a website developed to rate the fuckability of Harvard undergrads, and it only got worse after that. When Facebook started off, it was only open to US college and high-school kids with .edu and K-12.us addresses. But in 2006, it opened up to the general public. It effectively told them: Yes, I know you’re all using MySpace. But MySpace is owned by a billionaire who spies on you with every hour that God sends. Sign up with Facebook and we will never spy on you. Come and tell us who matters to you in this world.

That was stage one. Facebook had a surplus — its investors’ cash — and it allocated that surplus to its end users. Those end users proceeded to lock themselves into Facebook. Facebook, like most tech businesses, had network effects on its side. A product or service enjoys network effects when it improves as more people sign up to use it. You joined Facebook because your friends were there, and then others signed up because you were there.

But Facebook didn’t just have high network effects, it had high switching costs. Switching costs are everything you have to give up when you leave a product or service. In Facebook’s case, it was all the friends there that you followed and who followed you. In theory, you could have all just left for somewhere else; in practice, you were hamstrung by the collective action problem. It’s hard to get lots of people to do the same thing at the same time. So Facebook’s end users engaged in a mutual hostage-taking that kept them glued to the platform. Then Facebook exploited that hostage situation, withdrawing the surplus from end users and allocating it to two groups of business customers: advertisers and publishers.

To the advertisers, Facebook said: Remember when we told those rubes we wouldn’t spy on them? Well, we do. And we will sell you access to that data in the form of fine-grained ad-targeting. Your ads are dirt cheap to serve, and we’ll spare no expense to make sure that when you pay for an ad, a real human sees it. To the publishers, Facebook said: Remember when we told those rubes we would only show them the things they asked to see? Ha! Upload short excerpts from your website, append a link and we will cram it into the eyeballs of users who never asked to see it. We are offering you a free traffic funnel that will drive millions of users to your website to monetise as you please. And so advertisers and publishers became stuck to the platform, too.

Users, advertisers, publishers — everyone was locked in. Which meant it was time for the third stage of enshittification: withdrawing surplus from everyone and handing it to Facebook’s shareholders. For the users, that meant dialling down the share of content from accounts you followed to a homeopathic dose, and filling the resulting void with ads and pay-to-boost content from publishers. For advertisers, that meant jacking up prices and drawing down anti-fraud enforcement, so advertisers paid much more for ads that were far less likely to be seen. For publishers, this meant algorithmically suppressing the reach of their posts unless they included an ever-larger share of their articles in the excerpt. And then Facebook started to punish publishers for including a link back to their own sites, so they were corralled into posting full text feeds with no links, meaning they became commodity suppliers to Facebook, entirely dependent on the company both for reach and for monetisation.

When any of these groups squawked, Facebook just repeated the lesson that every tech executive learnt in the Darth Vader MBA: “I have altered the deal. Pray I don’t alter it any further.” Facebook now enters the most dangerous phase of enshittification. It wants to withdraw all available surplus and leave just enough residual value in the service to keep end users stuck to each other, and business customers stuck to end users, without leaving anything extra on the table, so that every extractable penny is drawn out and returned to its shareholders. (This continued last week, when the company announced a quarterly dividend of 50 cents per share and that it would increase share buybacks by $50bn. The stock jumped.)

But that’s a very brittle equilibrium, because the difference between “I hate this service, but I can’t bring myself to quit,” and “Jesus Christ, why did I wait so long to quit?” is razor-thin.

[Thanks Robert Scott Horton]

#Cory Doctorow #enshittification #words and writing #articles #Financial Times #social media

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whumpster-fire · 5 days

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Top 10 ways I Would Improve the US Government

1: I'm not a fan of complete Athenian style direct democracy but I think in the Senate each state should have one seat that's elected and one that's chosen by lottery.

2: The Speaker of the House has to dress up like Uncle Sam during proceedings. Yes including the stilts. We'll give them a 10 foot high podium. This ought to thin out the incumbents on their 6th or 7th term a little.

3: Instead of giving all the surplus armored vehicles the military doesn't want to the cops and horrible four letter federal agencies, give them to the USPS with the condition that they aren't allowed to use them in enforcement of mail fraud. I just want the comedy factor of guys delivering packages out of the back of a Stryker or whatever.

4: We should have a 4th branch of government formed from committees of random assholes pulled off the street, who we will drag from their somewhat tolerable lives and impound in a stuffy building with expensive parking, where we'll pay them sub-poverty wages and give them the power of life and death over other citizens what do you mean I just reinvented the jury system? Jesus Christ it's so hard to come up with an original idea these days, everything's already been done.

5: Okay new idea: if you get every single number wrong in the lottery ten consecutive times you get Jury Duty.

6: We'll reshuffle the acronyms of the 3 letter administrations to freshen things up. For example the DEA will now be the Department of Educational Achievement, and the FBI will be the Federal Borders and Immigration agency.

7: Repaint the White House red or blue depending on what party has the presidency. It should only be white when we elect a 3rd party candidate or independent.

8: Add a third chamber to the legislature. This will have 2 seats per state like the Senate, except the top 10 and bottom 10 states by population get a bonus seat and so do the top and bottom 10 by land area. Members are elected every 4 years, in midterm years only to make people pay attention to them.

9: Every 10 years each state has the option to adopt out one of its counties to another state that doesn't border it for purposes of highway funding.

10: End Gerrymandering by making all the congressional districts evenly spaced North-South bands. Bar code district maps for everyone.

#shitpost #politics #us politics

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jpitha · 1 year

Text

Just a Little Further 26

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

*six months later*

It's been half a year, but I can't believe we're already on our third ship! High Line took two months instead of the one that Omar first promised, but that was because he and his crew were getting use to the process and how best to refurbish the ships. Then after that I made the decision to refurbish the food tugs, but those were (relatively) easy. New thrusters, some strengthening of the cargo containers and a few brand new ones and that was it. Once that was finished the food deliveries increased over 30%!

You would not believe how much cheaper, more abundant food improves one's legitimacy. As soon as that was finished and the food rolled in, almost all of the last grumblings about me coming in and "declaring" myself Empress died down.

I couldn't wait, and we took High Line out for a quick spin around the system after it was completed. Omar asked to be in control for the trip and since he refurbished it, I let him. While Omar was looking through the Builder archives, he found plans for a starship's control chair. It was kind of line a small version of my Throne, or the Builder chairs back on the Reach. From the chair, a Builder can interface with the ship and control it, almost like how AIs are ships back home.

I asked Starlight, River and Ocean if they wanted to come along and see what we did to their ship. The whole time they looked around in wonder and surprise at the work we did. Starlight said it felt like a new ship and River marveled that we were able to add so many features to it.

I didn't tell them about the wormhole generator. I don't know why. Maybe I still think we need some kind of secret surprise.

Really though, I couldn't do what I'm doing now if it wasn't for my fellow Builders and our staff. Ava is my second in command and handles most of the interactions between us and the institutions here at the Reach. Bank, Security Team, and Maintenance Crew; she works with them to bring their needs to my attention, and then we work out a solution together. She still tends to be a little more... aggressive than I prefer, but she knows who is Empress. She makes me more assertive and I'm able to cool her down. I think we work well together.

Um'reli has dug deep into the Builder systems here on the Reach. She's working out how much work the old Builders did day to day to make the Reach run so smoothly. When I told her that the Nanites say that it was a full time crew of 10 she believed me. It's a lot of work. There's still only the 4 of us, so we still can't run at full capacity, but she's got the fire suppression systems up and running, the environmental systems are much more efficient and even the gravity works better. We're operating with a power surplus now! I asked Omar build another reactor for the Reach and soon we will have power to spare.

Omar, he has taken over as my shipbuilder and is really growing into the role. When we were on FarReach, printing was just a hobby and his main role was ship's battery, but here he's become a master printer. Between the database we got from FarReach and the existing Database on the Reach, we have more than enough plans to make anything we need. He even worked out that Reach of the Might of Vzzx used to have defensive batteries! He found the hardpoints and has been using downtime on the printers to make new laser batteries. We don't know where the original weapons went, so we're just going to add Starjumper class laser batteries to the existing hardpoints. We're so large and will soon have such a power surplus that he says running the huge laser batteries should be no problem. That should help hold off anyone who comes to pay us a visit.

Speaking of visiting, I haven't told anyone, but I unlocked the Gate last month. With two ships and the laser batteries almost done, I figured it was safe to unlock the Gate.

I'm anxious to go back out and visit the Wilds and see if we can figure out what happened. I don't think I'm ready to admit to the others yet, but I'm also excited to visit other Starbases and planets as Empress and see just how much of this side of the Galaxy is happy to see me. Waves and smiles for everyone happy to see me, Starjumper laser batteries for those who aren't.

I'm kidding about the Starjumper laser batteries if people aren't happy to see me. I don't think I want to restart a war of conquest, do I?

These days, I spend a lot of my time on the Throne, just watching things. I find it soothing to sit here and just... feel the world go by. Things are running so smoothly, and the people legitimately seem pleased that we're here and working, I like to, I don't know, absorb the vibes?

It's just after breakfast and I'm settling down for a day of reports and presiding over a few small disagreements when a chirrup interrupts my reverie. I glance over and... It's a signal from outside the Reach? I extend my senses into the local space and I feel...

Activity from the Gate. Someone is coming through.

"Ava, Um'reli, Omar! We've got a ping from the Gate. Someone is coming though!" I'm excited to tell everyone.

Omar is less excited. "What? Okay, Reactors to 200%, defensive batteries online, sound general alert.." I can hear hooting in the background. Omar insisted on activating the old alert tones and we have been sending out messages reminding everyone to listen to them.

"Omar, Omar! It's just someone coming through. Do we really need to get ready to shoot them?"

"Uh, yes Melody? We have no idea who it is. I didn't even know the Gate was unlocked. Did you do that?"

"Yes, I did it a month ago. I figured we were ready for visitors then. I'm so excited to see who is coming to visit us!"

Over the mental connection, I can feel Ava, Omar and Um'reli staring at me.

Uh oh.

Um'reli sounds exasperated. "Melody, we are at least a year away from unlocking the Gate. We have some defensive lasers sure, but we don't even have the new reactor online and we have two small ships now. Two. If that's a human dreadnought, we'd be utterly outmatched. What were you thinking?"

"Um'reli be nice, I'm sure Melody was just so happy about our progress she wanted people to come and see it and see her." Ava jumps to my defense.

"It's still something she should have run by us first. We could have given her more insight to our actual readiness..."

"She is the empress Um'reli, and besides, what's done is done. Now we have to get ready for our new visitors. Melody, have they come though yet, do we have a visual on them?"

I'm looking out into the system and I see the ship. It's... huge. It's way larger than anything we know about on this side of the Galaxy. It doesn't look like a Starjumper though, it's the wrong shape.

"It's through. Here, I'll send you what I see through the long range scopes. I toss the visual feed over to them. Um'reli is as confused as I am, but Omar has a sharp intake of breath and Ava swears.

"What is it Omar? Do you recognize the ship Ava?"

"I do, but I wish I didn't. That's the Vengeance of Lavinia. It's the flag carrier for Venus." Omar sound disgusted.

Ava sounds downright angry. What the hell are they doing out here?"

Um'reli zooms in on the image and tries to enhance to get more detail. "It Looks like FarReach didn't succeed in keeping us quiet like she wanted though. Clearly someone told them we were out here and they're coming to say hello."

I don't know much about Imperial Venus, I grew up on Meíhuā. From what I understand and what Omar explains while Ava makes a face, they took over governance of the Sol system about a decade ago. They mostly control the inner planets. The High Mars Cities are the borderlands, and from then out is the OPA, the Outer Planet Alliance. They're a bunch of small starbase city-states that pool their resources together to hold off Venus. It's been a back and forth for the entire time that Venus has claimed sovereignty.

Venus came out into the colonies to throw their weight around a few years back, but they got massacred at Parvati, and they caused trouble over at Sarbase Picaresque. This was all years before we left. A group of residents and a faction of AIs kicked them out. I think a colony ship was involved too? I wasn't living there then, I've heard all this information second and third hand. But, since then, they've stayed in the Sol system and dialed down the anti-AI rhetoric. Nobody is pleased to see them when they come visiting.

Still, it was visitors. Guess we should see what they want.

"Maybe they have people who want to come join us?" I try to sound hopeful. I don't think it worked.

"More like spy on us." Omar said darkly. "Melody, I'm going to go against my usual stance on you using your Voice on people. These folks need to be told how we do stuff here."

I can feel Um'reli nodding. "I agree. We don't want them to start anything, but like don't lead with Voicing them. If you did that, they'd probably try and run and we'd lose any advantage we have. Play it cool. Be nice, be welcoming. It's not like we couldn't use more Builders. If folks are coming out because they want to come out, we should welcome them."

"But they're from Venus, Um'reli. Don't forget how they treat AIs." Ava is unusually firm. Venus has a strict policy of not recognizing AI sapience. It's stupid really. AIs have been recognized as alive and sapient for nearly two thousand years in Human space, for them to come out of nowhere and say that they're not is ludicrous and treated that way in Colonial space. It's almost a joke.

Almost.

We can't turn them away, we simply don't have the firepower. "Omar, let them know we're not defenseless. Free the defensive lasers but don't target the ship. The are probably scanning the heck out of us, they should see them come online."

When Omar releases the lasers, I can feel it. 6 different batteries energize and tell us their readiness. Wow, I don't know if this is something new Omar added, or something he tied into old systems, but it's so... intuitive to use them. With a thought, I can swing them around, aim and point them, and... yes, if I were to pull there, they'd fire. Neat. After moving them around a little, I swing them off to the side and set them to follow our commands. If Venus wants to start something, we can bring them to bear relatively quickly, but Um'reli is right, we do need more builders. If they're just shuttling volunteers because FarReach told all the AIs and none of them will have anything to do with me, then we should be nice.

Radio contact. We're being signaled. "Uh, Reach of the Might of Vzzx? This is Vengeance of Lavinia. We'd like to speak to... Empress... Melody?"

They're reading from notes. Their comms officer sounds so unsure. I decide to answer myself and lay it on thick.

"Good morning Vengeance of Lavinia. This is Empress Melody Mullen the First, Empress of the Holy Imperial Systems. I hear your call and am replying. How may I assist?"

"We are requesting docking permission and to be able to come aboard for a goodwill exchange as well as to deliver some volunteers from our side of the Galaxy who wish to sign on with your work over here."

Interesting. They say they have volunteers. It's not like we don't need more Builder help.

"Be careful, Melody." Ava is right.

"But, don't turn them away just yet." Um'reli is right too. Ugh do they want to do the talking here? I feel like I'm being pulled in so many directions. I check on the docking ring. High Line and Sun Dancer, the two ships we were able to refit are next to the dock the FarReach used, I'll put them there.

"Vengeance of Lavinia you are cleared to dock at umbilical X45, I shall note it on this image I am sending your way. Additionally it shall be lit as you pass by. After you dock a welcome party will meet you at the umbilical."

"Umbilical X45 confirmed. See you soon, Reach of the Might of Vzzx. Vengeance of Lavinia out."

Well then. Guess we had better go meet them.

"Okay everyone, we're on. Let's go gather some folks and go see them."

Ava, Um'reli and Omar disconnect from their chairs and come out. "I swear to you we're not ready for someone like Venus coming, but here they are so I guess we're going to have to be ready." Um'reli looks around. "Where is City?"

Sound of the City bounds up the stairs. "Here, Builder, what do you need of me?"

Um'reli smiles. "Hello, Sound of the City. Please gather Starlight, Ocean, River, Vaaqo, and yourself. Dispatch a runner to Sep and ask them to bring a few security guards too. Make sure you have your Builder uniforms on and they're clean and neat. We have visitors."

City bows nervously. "Of course Builder. I shall fetch them at once." There is a pause while they try to figure out what they can get away with. "Who is visiting?"

"It's a group of people from our side of the Galaxy. They're a different... faction than we were and we always haven't been... friendly? We're willing to give them the benefit of the doubt for now, but make sure everyone knows to keep watch on them."

Another bow "Builder. I go!" and Sound of the City bounds away. I'm so happy we are able to give them a job. They're still young so it's only part time, but they bring me happiness every time I see them. They really are becoming a vital part of our retinue. They're just so energetic! I hope they stay with us.

I pick up my rifle from next to the Throne and examine it. I do get a chance to go to Sep's Security office and get some range time in now, but it's never enough. Omar has programmed the Security Office's printers to make rounds for me, so I don't have to conserve, it's just that there are only so many hours in a day. But, I feel good that I can still do the things that Melody likes to do. It helps ground me and reminds me that I'm more than an Empress.

I sigh to myself, check the rifle to make sure it's loaded and safe, and then click it to my back. It's weight is reassuring. While we walk down the steps, I get myself ready. The crown and wings come out, but I keep them subtle for now. I make my heels a little taller but keep my working outfit on - no gown today. It's still royal blue and still sharply cut, but I just look like the head Builder I am instead of all full Empress.

As we reach the docs, Starlight, Ocean and River are there already. They were probably over in the drydock working on the third ship so were close by. At our approach, they all bow low.

"Empress, Builders. It is always a pleasure to see you."

I incline my head. "Starlight, Ocean, River. We have guests coming."

They look at me and blink. This was unexpected.

"O-of course Empress. We shall welcome them warmly. Who is coming?"

"People from our side of the Galaxy. They represent a different faction than us, so we're wary about their visit. Still, we shall receive them. Just, be on your guard."

They bow again. "Always Empress. We have learned that about Builders."

Huh. Cheeky. But not wrong. I decide to let it slide.

City bounds up out of breath. "I have alerted Vaaqo and Sep, they shall arrive shortly."

"City, take a moment and catch your breath, they're not here yet." Ava looks concerned. Sound of the City is so eager to help that sometimes they run themselves ragged. I think we all fuss over City just a bit because they're still a kid, but I remember being a teen and so eager to prove myself.

After a short time, Vaaqo arrives with Sep and they bow. Behind Sep is about a dozen security guards, all with clubs and energy weapons. Vaaqo speaks first. "Builders. What is it you need of us? Your runner mentioned visitors?"

I smile warmly and nod. "Yes. people from our side of the Galaxy have come through the Gate and wish to visit. They are from a different faction than us originally, so be wary, but let us welcome them. Sep, have your people set up around us, visible, but not part of the welcome party. Clubs can be seen, but let's keep the firearms behind their backs for now."

Another bow, and Sep gestures to the guards and they set up like I asked. We have a semicircle of guards a bit away, and the rest of us are a few meters from the umbilical.

As we finish setting up, I hear the whir and hum of the umbilical coming out to meet the ship.

After a few tense moments, there is a hiss as the pressures equalize and the umbilical opens. Immediately, silently, 6 troopers walk out. They're wearing glossy maroon armored pressure suits polished to a mirror sheen They're so glossy the coloring of the pressure suits looks like it has depth. I can see all of us distorted in the reflection of their faceless helmets. They're holding battle rifles, but they're aimed down and I can see they're safe and they have little decorative tips on the end - that's a nice touch. Shows everyone that they can't shoot them without extra effort. Looking closer at the rifles I'm shocked.

It's the same model I use.

That's not standard issue. My rifle was a special order. I can feel it's weight on my back, reminding me.

The troopers line up, three to a side of the umbilical and stand there at attention for a moment, and then a woman walks confidently out.

She's not wearing a pressure suit, but she has a very elaborate uniform on. It doesn't look like our Builder uniforms, but it's of a similar ilk. Professional, Military, it's short sleeves and form fitting, with pockets and folds and places for medals and ribbons. Her uniform has plenty of both. It's the same maroon as the troopers, but there's a pure white sash from her left shoulder to her right waist. On her waist is a sidearm - hmm, that looks like a custom version of a very fiddly - but accurate - pistol and is very well taken care of. She's wearing maroon pants tucked into highly polished black riding boots that click on the floor of the dock. On both of her shoulders are a gold fringe. She's wearing a cap at a rakish angle and peeking underneath I can see that she has very close cropped blond hair.

Is that a tattoo I see around her collar?

She is standing there with a smirk all casually professional and extremely cool. She looks like she is in charge through sheer charisma. She looks as if nobody would dare question whether she was in charge.

Swallowing and hoping I don't look too awkward, I turn up the crown and wings and take one step forward. "Welcome to Reach of the Might of Vzzx. I am Empress Melody Mullen of the Holy Imperial Systems." I gesture to my side. "This is Ava Williams, Omar Adel, and Um'reli Desmen, my Builders." I turn to the other side. "This is Starlight on a Moonless Evening, The Smell Of The Ocean, Rapid River Roaring, Sound of the City, Sep and Vaaco. They are part of my retinue and assist with day to day operation here. We welcome you."

She inclines her head slightly then stands up straight and salutes sharply. "I am Archduke Helen Raaden of Imperial Venus, second to the crown prince of Venus and third in line for the Venusian throne. I come with a contingent of Venusian soldiers and citizens as well as a small group of volunteers from throughout Human space.

We come as friends on a goodwill tour, and wish to extend our most sincere greetings to her Imperial Highness and make a personal offer from the Emperor to give assistance in any way we can." When she finishes her pronouncement she winks at me.

Oh no, she's so hot. What am I going to do?

Part 27

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humans go on adventure #humans are space oddities #sci fi writing #writing #humans and ai #humans and aliens #the k'laxiverse #jpitha #just a little further

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zanazirafanfic · 1 month

Text

25DCC Chapter 13 "Getting Anxious for Christmas" (Preview)

Hello, all! I promise this fic isn't abandoned, and I am *finally* getting somewhere with this chapter after almost an entire month of the worst writer's block I've had in years! Work has been crazy the last few nights, so I didn't have as much time to finish up as I'd hoped, but I'm planning to have it up tomorrow, 3/19, at the latest!

In the meantime, as an apology, here's a little preview. Enjoy!

*~RDR~*

Lone Wolf Stead, Great Plains, WE - December 13, 1910

"And this man's name was what?"

"Cú Chulainn of Muirthemne. He was an Irish warrior," Jack answered. He was only half paying attention to the conversation, thoroughly engrossed in his book while he lay stretched out on his stomach in the back of the wagon. "In this chapter he's defending the kingdom of Ulster from Queen Medb of Connacht's army. She's trying to invade and steal King Conchobar mac Nessa's prized bull, Donn Cúailnge, after she put all his other soldiers under a curse so they can't fight."

John blinked, just taking all of that in for a moment. "You... How did you even get all those names outta your mouth in one go?"

Jack shrugged, turning to the next page with a tiny grin. "I dunno. Just... comes easy to me, I guess."

The elder Marston blew out a slow breath and shook his head. "Well you're a helluva lot smarter than me, that's for sure. Maybe you oughta drive the wagon while I read that book of yours for a while - I clearly need to 'broaden my horizons' some more."

"He's smarter than both of us," Abigail said proudly, turning around to look at him.

Jack hunched deeper into his book, his face flushing pink in embarrassment. "That's... I'm not..." He never knew quite how to respond when his parents said things like that, and it usually just got him flustered instead. He suspected that was half of why they did it, actually.

John and Abigail exchanged a fond smile with one another, and John huffed a quiet laugh as he snapped the reins to urge the wagon horses into a faster trot.

The three of them were on their way over to Lone Wolf Stead, planning to pay an impromptu visit to the Morgan-Smiths. John had been out to Blackwater that morning, leaving in the wagon before sunrise with their surplus milk, eggs, and wool loaded in the back to sell. When he arrived back home a couple of hours later, it was with a grin on his face and a pale cream-colored envelope clutched in his hands. There was no return address except to the post office in Annesburg, but the name "Tacitus Kilgore" was written in the upper-left corner in a messy, looping scrawl.

There was only one person - or, rather, one couple - who would still be writing letters to John under that alias after all these years, and as soon as he'd seen his father pull up to the front porch and noticed the name on the letter, Jack was scrambling into the back of the wagon, all but dragging his mother along behind him.

Aforementioned letter now was tucked securely between the back pages of his book, still unopened for the time being (no matter how tempted he was to take a quick peek). Pa and Uncle Arthur had promised each other weeks ago that whoever received word from Dutch and Hosea first would be sure to notify the other immediately, and John said he didn't feel right opening it before his brother got a chance to see it too. Jack didn't mind, though, since it gave them an excuse to visit his uncles again...

@photo1030

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfiction #prompt fic #zanazirawrites #christmas fic #jack marston #john marston #abigail roberts marston #arthur morgan #charles smith #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #john x abigail #johnigail #arthur x charles #charthur #dutch x hosea #vandermatthews #fic preview

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mypimpademia · 2 years

Text

— Karma

Gojo x gn!reader

TW: swearing, reader breaks gojos heart, gojo is also a dick in the beginning (a tad ooc for plot purposes), suggestive

I told you, you better stay prayed up.

You never thought the universe be looking for revenge.

Gojo Satoru was known to get around.

Hopping from bed to bed, and having people in and out of his own, leaving a trail of hearts behind.

He never payed it any mind, he had no concern for the surplus of hearts he'd broken. I mean he was a natural flirt. Everyone knew that, right? If someone just so happened to get too wrapped up in it, that was their own fault.

"It's not my fault! Everyone should know I'm not serious about things like that."

You can't keep just doin' them girls like that

Of course, despite his ways, Satoru had dreams of one day settling down with someone.

To find his person, the one that would finally manage to tie him down, have him wrapped around their finger to keep for themselves.

But if he's being honest, you singlehandedly ripped away those dreams.

Thinkin' that nobody finna bite back

When you walked into the room, it was almost like time slowed.

Everything went in slow motion except for you, standing out as you made heads turn in a skin tight dress that was almost too short to be considered a dress. Not to mention the fact that you had a smile plastered on your face, pretty enough to make the heavens sing.

Satoru immediately excused himself from the girl he was already speaking to, instead beginning to push his way through the crowd of sweaty bodies to make his way to you.

"S'cuse me." He uttered, making his way past the last person standing between you and him.

Satoru approached you as he did most, radiating with confidence, giving you his signature heartthrob look through his snow white lashes, and past his iconic sunglasses.

"Hi, I don't think we've met before, have we beautiful?" He said suavely, slim fingers gently curling around your hand before bringing it up to his lips and pressing kiss to the back. "Gojo Satoru, and you?"

He expected you to throw yourself at him like all the others did.

But Satoru was taken aback when he watched as you paused, taking a moment to look at him. As if you were reading all of him in a single, slow glance up and down his tall frame.

Rejection was the first thought that had come to mind. He's been rejected before, of course, if someone said no he wouldn't dwell too much.

But something about you had Satoru breaking into a cold sweat in that brief moment alone.

Losing your mind baby

Can't be sure, times wasting

However, to his pleasure, you smiled and replied,

"Y/n L/n, nice to meet you."

I'm sorry

He didn't expect the two of you to go anywhere past that night.

But Satoru found himself relieved that you were still there in the morning, subconsciously hoping you'd stay as he watched your chest rise and fall, bare if not for the thin sheet over you. Then finding himself saddened, when you stirred awake and suggested that you should probably leave.

He didn't expect to utter the phrase he did just as you were leaving.

"When can I see you again?"

I'm just here to do my job

In what felt like the blink of an eye, Satoru found himself enamored by you in every way.

The way you were effortlessly beautiful, the way you laughed, smiled, got angry with him, the way you made him feel when you were so wrapped up in each other every night.

You had him wrapped around your finger, to keep for yourself.

Nice to meet you, no running

Unfortunately, he realized that you didn't feel the same just as quickly as he fell for you.

Satoru was led to believe the both of you had something, that you were his person. But the idea of something like that seemed like fiction now.

"So what? That's it? This- this wasn't anything to you?"

Your responses sounded so familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

"I didn't think you'd get so wrapped up! I thought you knew what this was!"

"I thought we were in understanding that this wasn't anything serious."

Satoru thought he'd bounce back, like he always did. But he did everything but that.

His work performance was lacking, he couldn't focus on anything without his thoughts going to you, and everything reminded him of you.

You still had him wrapped around your finger, and he was still yours whether he liked it or not.

You were in his dreams, your smell was everywhere, his bed felt empty, it was like his own personal hell. He couldn't escape you, and he found that terrifying.

Please don't fear me

This was exactly what Satoru was afraid of.

He knew he was in deep shit after blacking out at a party. He remembers seeing you and the rest was a blur, but the next morning was deja vu.

He still wanted you to stay. To say you had a change of heart, and that you loved him like he loved you. And that's exactly what he was afraid of.

This time, you did stay. After awkward pillow talk, the elephant in the room was addressed.

"Did you ever love me?" Satoru asked you

"No..." You admitted, staring at the bright white ceiling to avoid eye contact.

"Did ever feel anything for me?"

"No."

"... Can you stay?"

"No."

The silence was loud, only filled by the shuffling of you putting on your clothes and gathering your belongings, before heading out of his room and then his home without so much as a goodbye.

A noise cut through the silence again, a pained sob this time.

'Why does it hurt so bad?' Satoru thought.

He didn't understand, nothing you said made sense.

How could he not get wrapped up? How could he have known that what you had wasn't anything?

Inevitably, he blamed himself. He thought he should've known better, he should've said something. But at the same time he couldn't help but wonder,

What did he do to deserve this?

I'm just karma

—

Taglist: @silkylious @blackweebtrash @love-hashira-raine @denkisdashi @bigheartlittlelies @haksluvr @ivalore @jacuzziwaters @niktwazny303 @disaster-rose (send ask or dm me to be added!)

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

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webslingerx · 4 months

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Continued here part 1 with @the-stars-in-our-destiny

Yes! At least know he’ll have a few more moments with him to get to know him and hopefully learn a thing or two about him. As Starry seemly speed walks through the door Spider-Man has to pick up his pace to keep up with him now.

Once inside he sees Starry talking with one of the nurses now he couldn’t hear what they were saying but watching Starry’s body language… didn’t seem like a good thing. The hospital smelt like rubber gloves, rubbing alcohol and medications of some sort. His nose wiggles under his red, webbed mask as he looked around the hospital grounds.

As soon as Starry leaves the nurse’s side, he subconsciously tilts his head to the side thinking about this. What was going on? Even though he wanted to be with Starry while he got checked up he wanted to give him some privacy from him but this seemed urgent. Something was wrong. Once more the spider walks over to Starry but unlike earlier he leaves a small gap between them for space and cellphone privacy.

“Sorry to bother you… but I see you’re having some trouble. I’ll talk with the nurse and see if they’ll just ring us up as a guest for now okay? They can’t refuse to treat such wound alright? I got this.”

He softly pats his shoulder before turning around to leave Starry’s presence. He finds the same nurse that Starry was talking with previously. Of course once the nurse saw he, they shook his hand and was hyped up about her being there. Once he started talking to them, they listened nodding along with what he was saying about the situation. He expressed the wound was more severe than he thought and he needed to be seen immediately. He even offered to pay for the visit. After a few minutes of them talking Spider-Man heads back to Starry’s side.

“Alright I got us a room!.. for you’re head of course.”

He chuckles awkwardly for a moment while walking away but keeping his pace actually slow this time for Starry to follow him.

“They said it’s room 334… and the doctor will be there ASAP.”

They went past a few rooms before he finally found theirs room. The room was already opened for them. He walks in sitting down on one of the extra chairs provided. There were three chairs, two with green cushions and one with a red cushion and of course the table chair thing the patient sits on.

“Starry? I’m so sorry your day isn’t going well… first you’re head injury and now this crap? Sheesh… you need a rest and a deserved break after this is over. I don’t know what going on with your phone but do you want me to look at it? I’m pretty decent with technology.”

That was an understatement. He was great with technology but he wasn’t gonna let Starry know that. He had to hide who he was a good as possible. He must remain anonymous as possible. For him and for the rest of New York. But he wanted to try to help his new friend out as much as possible. He did find it odd that there were no records of him here… as there were records on everyone including him, as Peter and as Spider-Man. This wasn’t the time though to barrage him with a surplus of questions, no he needed sometime to think and sometime to remain calm and at ease. He pats the empty chair beside him softly.

“Wanna sit a spell with me?… the doctor will hopefully be here soonish.”

#the stars in our destiny #video game au

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motherphoebe · 3 months

Text

The Parting Glass

Annie Cresta's time as a career tribute in the 70th Hunger Games. Canon compliant, as of right now this fic will be mostly head cannon as we know so little until the original trilogy. I wanted to add so much more to this, but I dont think I would've ever posted if I kept editing it lmao. I also posted this on my ao3 account, same username as here! enjoy and please leave feedback ngl i need to be hyped up!

Chapter 1:

next chapter

The first thing I do is throw the quilt off of my legs.

The open window does little to aid in cooling down the room, the relentless summer heat did not cool throughout the night and now the opened curtains also let in the blinding morning sun. It takes a moment to get past my drowsiness, but eventually I reluctantly move my sweaty body from the small bed, hanging my legs off the side and holding my head in my hands.

I wish the sweltering heat were the reason for my restless night. Today is reaping day, and the salty air somehow doesn’t feel as peaceful as usual and does little to calm my nerves. My chest tightens and I quickly try to calm myself. I reach for my tying rope and think about last night, my time at the beach, swimming with a large group of friends, the peaceful waves, the moon, and surprisingly I find my breathing subtly calm. I wish today weren't reaping day, I wish they’d cancel the games all together, I wish a lot of things. I tie and untie my rope, and slowly accept that wishing won’t change the events of today and what is expected of me as an eighteen year old living in Panem.

Every year, the Capitol hosts a Hunger Games, and the first step is a reaping ceremony in which each of the 12 districts have to produce a male and female tribute. It’s to keep us scared and unwilling of rebellion, the fate of children 12 to 18, in the hands of the Capitol to be escorted into an arena to fight to the death. My thoughts are interrupted when I hear my older siblings greeting my parents in the other room, and suddenly my sisters bursting into the bedroom we used to share.

“Annie!” I take in her ecstatic demeanor and can't help but smile. I gasp and make a teasingly shocked face, while examining the gifts she came bearing: A new dress, and cherries.

“Muriel, you’re planning on sharing those right?”

My mouth waters at the sight of the cherries, and I wonder how she was able to afford them, along with the dress. It’s not like we have a surplus of money, and cherries are usually outrageously expensive when sold at the market. Her and I, and our older brother, Skipper, picked up jobs as soon as we could to help our parents, but now that she’s married, maybe she can afford such luxuries. Muriel makes beautiful tapestries using the flowers and plants that line the shores, and they've always seemed to sell quite well at the market, along with her handmade jewelry. My brother, Skipper, started repairing boats with my father once they were back from their shifts out at sea. The pair's services are relatively cheap and extremely effective, the people of 4 with boats need them functioning to be able to live so there’s always business.

Muriel exaggerates the shaking of her head, acting like she’s keeping the gifts to herself, then instantly breaks character, smiling and handing the fruit to me, carefully hanging the light blue dress off the chair. I can see the worry she’s trying to hide in her eyes.

“And is this dress new? Muriel these gifts are so nice they must have cost you a fortune, please let me pay you back-”

“I got them for you.” She cuts me off, putting my head in her hands “Plus, you wouldn’t be able to pay me back anyway.”

She’s joking but she’s not wrong; while she and Skipper found real jobs, I found peacefulness, and a very small income compared to the two of them. I started helping our neighbor, Mrs. Ahearn, by teaching some of her swimming lessons. It doesn’t pay well and I probably couldn’t save enough to buy even some grain at the market after a month of work, but there’s something about teaching the younger children of my district that makes it worth it. Still so innocent, too young to be put into the training academy, their parents still shielding their eyes when the games are playing, the worst things that could happen to them so far away. Plus, it’s a great way to meet the people in town, most of the kids are the younger siblings of friends i’ve known for years, and honestly, it’s better than being at home. The house feels empty now that both my siblings have left.

Muriel moves her hands and pulls me into a hug, our heads resting on each other's shoulders. “You still being in the reaping makes me feel worse than when I was. I know you’ll be fine Annie, but the sooner we’re all done with this the better. Better for mom and dad too, you know it scares them to death. Can I help you get ready?”

I nod my head in agreement, and soon my mouth is full of cherry pits. The reaping scares all of us, my father says that’s the point and it’s been obvious to me that our parents have had enough stress from the reapings in their lives. The second Skipper was ten, he was the first of us to enter the training academy after school, and once we were all old enough to be reaped, it seemed everything tied back to being a lesson on how we could win the Hunger Games, fishing, strength, knowledge. After surviving his own childhood possibility of being reaped, putting us in the training academy was my fathers small way of finding comfort in the uncontrollable, it gave him the peace of mind many other parents found refuge in; that if the odds hadn’t been in their families favor, their child could at least have a chance.

Muriel starts with my hair, stating something about my ‘messy cherry hands’ staining the pastel blue of the linen dress, and to keep them far away. Her hands are calloused, reflecting those of someone who’s worked a majority of their life, weaving and unweaving nets, creating her tapestries and intricate jewelry. She’s so precise in the way she does my hair, something I'm so grateful for. Choosing specific strands, tying them under or over, I’ve never been able to replicate these styles for her though, no matter how hard I try.

The thought of being reaped is horrifying, but there’s no comfort in the children I’ve known forever being reaped instead, it sends a shudder down my spine, and I feel the panic slowly seeping into my chest. The most recent victor we’ve had in District 4 is Finnick Odair. Although he’s a year older than me and a grade above, I remember him fondly from our short time together in the academy, but even more strongly I remember my fear when he was reaped at fourteen. His capability of winning so young makes me feel weak, and honestly dumb for being so horrified at age eighteen. It seemed all everyone was obsessing over during his games were his looks, but all I could think about was how kind he’d been to me, and how quickly he’d turned into a killer to survive. Somehow I found comfort in that thought. If he’d gone through only four years of the training I’ve had and won, I should be confident in my skills after eight.

I hadn’t realized my foot was tapping aggressively until Muriel placed her hand on my knee and I immediately stopped while she leaned her head down to my face.

“It’s okay to be nervous, Annie, I’m nervous too, probably safe to say all the Cresta’s are nervous. But, we will all be fine tonight, for our celebratory dinner and beach swim, right?” She has tears building in her eyes, “You’ll have to be fine Annie, this is your last year! Only one more and we will all be okay.”

The tears begin to roll down her cheeks in small lines that rush over her blushed face, while she tries to convince both of us.

Muriel has always been free to be overtly emotional, her strength is not relied on to keep others strong. If I ever cried or showed my weakness like this to any of my family, i’m afraid it would shatter them into a million little pieces— Annie Cresta, the baby of the family, so scared and so weak and completely unsaveable by any of them— so I put on a strong face, and push back the tears.

“You know i’ll be just fine Muriel, my name is only in there seven times. The odds have been in our favor the past ten years since Skippers first reaping, I have no doubt of our family's luck.”

I can’t help but wipe my cherry stained hands on my old sleeping shirt I’m sure was hers before reaching up and wiping her tears, just before pulling her into a tight hug. I take whatever doubt I have in my own statement and shove it deep within me, refusing to let my worries get to me, especially now.

My words slightly comfort Muriel, but when my mother walks in, a whole new feeling of serenity washes over us, whether it's forced or not.

“Hello, oh! My sweet Poppy!” she enters the room with a weary face, and once seeing her two daughters in a sorrowful hug, she rushes over to press a gentle kiss to my cheek. My mother and Muriel are so similar, not just in their looks, with beautiful big brown eyes and dark blonde hair, but in attitude as well. Of course, my mother and sister are strong, our whole family is strong, but they are not afraid to let their softer sides show. Whether it’s Muriel’s tears or my mother’s tender affection, it works for them, it makes them stronger to be so emotionally available, but it doesn’t seem to come as easily to the rest of us. While Skipper seems to be a somewhat perfect mix of my mother and father in looks and personality, I look into the mirror now and see my father in every way. Dark brown some what curly hair, sea foam green eyes and tan skin, the need to be strong for the people around us.

“You look beautiful, as always.” She says simply, bringing her palm to her own face to stub her tears. She walks around to the back of my head where Muriel’s progress with my hair had come to a brief pause. She turns me towards the dirty mirror, and I can see the beautiful intricate half braid my sister has done on the top layers of my hair, leaving the rest long and freely curling naturally. Muriel adds a starfish and pearl necklace she made for me years ago on my 12th birthday, and my mother adds a beautiful poppy orange bow that stands out beautifully in my dark brown hair. “It reminded me of you, Ula’s mother was selling them yesterday. It’s almost time to leave, make sure you’re dressed soon.”

She places another soft kiss on the top of my head and then leaves the room. She has called me her Poppy for as long as I can remember, saying I'm just as bright as the beautiful orange flower that grows all over District 4. Muriel follows her out, adjusting the necklace around my neck, “It gets worse each year, but I believe in you, Annie.” I want to comfort her, tell her I’ll be fine, but I can’t trust the stability in voice to make it convincing. Instead I acknowledge her sentiment by simply nodding.

As we walk to the ceremony, I try to stay present in my family's conversation, but my mind keeps drifting away. Every child I see my age has a target on their back, even myself, and none of us know who will be hit. I don’t let this show in my face, keeping a steady smile and waving to my fellow peers, who I've grown so close to. The reaping ceremony is already awful, but when you’re so acquainted in such a tightly knit community, there is no getting out unscathed, It’s always someone I know.

Once we arrive at the square in front of the justice building, my chest tightens and I’m forced now to strictly focus on my breathing. Being the only one in the family eligible to be reaped, I’m forced to part from as they continue towards the viewing area. Our separation is short and sweet, just a simple discussion of where we will meet once the ceremony concludes. I search almost desperately for someone to stand with while waiting to check in. Of course there’s a surplus of children my age, most I know quite well, but I’m not sure who to start a conversation with. I see Ula and decide her normally timid personality would be perfect.

We shuffle into the eighteen year old group, and quickly get pushed through the line to the standing area right before the stage. I thank her for the bow even though her mother made it, and that’s about all we say to each other. Even though I’m surrounded by friends from school or the training academy, I refrain from saying much more. There's not much to say, in a perfect world it would be none of us, maybe the games would be canceled, but the worlds not perfect and “hope it's you not me” isn't really the most comforting sentiment.

The mayor takes the stage, starting with his usual speech and directing us to watch the screens positioned above us, and I prepare myself to doze off. I know nothing important happens until the escort, Prisca Luminara, takes the stage, then I’ll be forced to pay attention, but for now I can stare at the screens and pretend to watch. The usual video plays about the Dark Days, a time of war and rebellion, and why we must participate in the Hunger Games. It’s not until I see Prisca walk up to the microphone, her silver tied up hair immediately catching my attention, that I tune in. First she introduces District 4’s previous victors , we actually have quite a few, but there’s been no one new since Finnick Odair won 5 years ago.

I find myself looking at Finnick, the way the sun reflects off his bronze hair, and realize the girls at school aren’t wrong, he’s beautiful. Honestly I’d never realized, the last conversations we had were so friendly. Both of us were so young, joking about mermaids and seaweed, I’ve preferred thinking of him that way since, not as the man he’s supposedly become.

I accidentally think about him for far too long, and don't fully tune in until Prisca announces that it’s time to pick the tributes.

“As always, ladies first! Remember, volunteering must wait until both tributes have been reaped!”

Her posh accent ringing through my ears while she steps towards the glass ball holding the female tribute's names. Six of those slips hold the name ‘Annie Cresta’, carefully folded and thrown in with the rest. Prisca pulls the tributes name and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I follow the actions of my peers as they slowly make a circle, it must have been someone from my age group.

“Annie Cresta! Don’t be shy, dear come up!”

Suddenly I realize what’s going on, I gather myself the best I can and somehow begin walking down the main aisle towards the stage. It takes all my strength to keep my head up, a kind smile holding my face together to hide my absolute shock. Eventually I reach the stage, smiling to Prisca as she takes my hand to lead me to my place, I even tell her thanks. The humid heat is even more unbearable up here, and I do everything in my power to avoid the faces of my peers below me, knowing how easily it could break this smile and fall into a puddle of tears.

“Perfect! Now for the boys!” Her heels are louder now that I'm onstage, and I can see her jewel encrusted nails searching in the bowl for the next tribute.

“Bodie Cormoran”

Now it seriously takes everything in me to not collapse to the floor. When I hear his name, avoiding eye contact with the crowd is not my biggest worry; I know him, I know him far too well. I immediately see the eighteen year old boy's fluffy auburn hair, making his way to the stage. His usual tall and stocky build seems only half as sturdy as it normally is, although the small defeat in his shoulders is probably only noticeable to those who know him closely. Soon, he’s being led by Prisca to the spot next to me as she chatters about her excitement. As soon as I make eye contact with him, I give him a reassuring look. I receive one in return, a small smile and nod, but his eyes show me how horrified he is. It’s because we will be going in together, if one of us lives, it ensures the other one’s death.

“Now do we have any volunteers? Remember folks, you cannot volunteer for someone who has already volunteered!”

She seems to be expecting a lot more action, but the time to volunteer comes and goes, and the only sound that fills the square is the waves from the far off sea. I hide my disappointment behind my small smile while staring forward towards the cameras. I need to play this exactly the way I’ve been trained, and for now I have to seem relentlessly strong, a true career tribute from District 4.

But when they ask for the tributes to shake hands, I can’t help but hug Bodie instead.

#annie cresta #finnick odair #the hunger games #thg #thg finnick #finnick #the parting glass #the 70th hunger games #odesta #finnick x annie #district 4 #mags flanagan #fan fiction #thg fanfiction

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hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 9 months

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1/5/7?

Hi Anon! I’m guessing you’re asking for the hurt/comfort ask game. If so, here you go! Thanks for your patience while I got around to this! In fact, there's another snippet that uses these exact numbers, you can find it here!

From this ask game

“The entrances to Whumper’s base are here and here,” Leader said, pointing to two points on the map, “they have guards stationed at each, along with other security measures, and- Whumpee?”

Whumpee jumped up in their seat. Aside from being the only one sitting down, they were also the only one not paying attention. Their glazed eyes stared at Leader, then the map.

“Are you okay?” Leader asked.

“Mhm,” Whumpee nodded.

Whumpee pointed to the tree line on the map, then to the center of the building.

“Whumper has entrances here and here,” Whumpee slurred.

Caretaker strode over to Whumpee, staring at them. Whumpee seemed to be looking right through them. Caretaker snapped in their flushed face, and it took far too long for Whumpee to blink. Within seconds, Caretaker’s hand was pressed to their forehead.

“Hm,” Caretaker said, brows furrowed, “Leader, I think Whumpee needs to sit this one out.”

Leader came over and felt Whumpee’s forehead. They winced.

“I think you’re right,” Leader said, “Whumpee, how long have you been feverish?”

“Hm?” Whumpee asked, “’m not f’v’rish, jus’ tired.”

Caretaker lifted Whumpee out of their seat.

“Come on, to bed with you.”

The sudden upward movement made Whumpee’s head spin. They looked over at Caretaker, whose mouth was moving with no sounds coming out. In fact, Whumpee couldn’t hear anything but a faint ringing. Whatever happened next went by too fast for them to register. All they knew was one minute they were standing, and the next they were looking up at two blurry faces.

“…umpee… Whumpee!” Caretaker shouted.

“What?” Whumpee mumbled.

“You just fainted,” Leader said, almost in disbelief.

“Did not,” Whumpee argued, trying to prop themselves up.

Caretaker and Leader both pushed Whumpee back down to the floor.

“Did too, stay down,” Caretaker ordered.

Caretaker and Leader exchanged words in hushed whispers. Whumpee tried to make out what they were saying, but before they could, Caretaker had slipped an arm under their legs and another behind their back and lifted them into a bridal carry.

“Stoooop,” Whumpee mumbled, “I can walk!”

Caretaker ignored them, instead carrying them out of the basement and to their bed, Leader right behind them. Leader pulled back the covers while Caretaker laid them down. Leader gently tucked Whumpee in.

“Wha’ about Whumper?”

“Whumper isn’t going anywhere,” Leader said, “we can infiltrate their base another day.”

Caretaker left the room and came back shortly with a bottle of medicine and a damp cloth. Leader sat Whumpee up and Caretaker fed them the medicine.

“Tastes bad.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Caretaker laid them back down and set the damp cloth on their forehead. Whumpee sighed at the soothing sensation. They blinked slowly. Now that they were in bed, the only thing they wanted to do was drift off, away from the fever. Their eyes fluttered shut and their breathing deepened as they slipped into sleep.

Caretaker and Leader sat on either side of Whumpee as they fell asleep. They exchanged worried looks with each other.

“How did this happen without us noticing?” Caretaker asked.

“More importantly, how long are they going to be like this?” Leader added, “if they get any worse, we’ll have to take them to the hospital.”

Whumpee slept on, blissfully ignorant of the situation Whumper’s poison had put them in.

ko-fi

tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm

#whump #hurt/comfort ask game #hurt/comfort #writeblr #writing #creative writing #fever #fainting #bridal carry #fever whump #feverish whumpee #poison #sick whump #ask game #whump ask game #whumpblr #whump community #as requested

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quicksilverdrabbles · 9 months

Text

At Largashbur

Atub: The ritual requires Troll Fat and a Daedra Heart, so I may commune with Malacath.

Morana: *pulls Troll Fat and a Daedra Heart out of her satchel* Here you go.

Atub: Oh- You- you have that ready to go. How nice.

Xelzaz: We are Alchemists. Such ingredients are a necessity.

Atub: I see. Well then, follow me. You've brought the ingredients for the ceremony, and now I ask that you see it through.

Xelzaz: Why though-

Morana: Hm.. *notices Yaksha trailing behind a bit, looking dazed. Stops so he can catch up and pokes his shoulder to get his attention* ... Are you okay?

Yaksha: Hm? Yes, I am fine.

Morana: I can imagine strongholds aren't very comfortable for you. Was there anything like this in High Rock?

Yaksha: There were Orc Strongholds in High Rock. I.. was a healer for one.

Morana: Does it make you miss your home?

Yaksha: ... It is not a home anymore. But I do miss it.

Morana: I feel the same. I'm sorry. We'll try to get this over with quickly, alright?

Yaksha: *smiles, waving off her concerns with a shrug* We can take however long it takes to get this done. Please pay no mind.

Morana: Still..

~One ritual later~

Yamarz: Grr.. This is all your fault, you know.

Morana: Excuse me?

Yamarz: You barged into our stronghold, brought your whole clan of outsiders with you..

Morana: *glances back at her team with a frown* I was under the impression we were helping you. I apologize if we cause any offense-

Yamarz: And to top it all off you brought a worthless wimp of an Orc with you.

Morana: ... I'm sorry, who exactly are you referring to?

Yamarz: Who else? *points at Yaksha with a grunt* He's absolutely pathetic. Wields no weapon, avoids conflict, and picks flowers like a real Orc would pick off enemy heads. Don't think I didn't notice how he stayed away from the giant when you lot fought it off.

Morana: ... Yaksha is a healer. He doesn't like fighting.

Yamarz: Ha! Healer?! Healing is a woman's job! And what sort of Orc doesn't like fighting, the coward!

Morana: *her charcoal snaps between her fingers* ... Is that so.

Yamarz: It's Orcs like him that make Malacath so angry, really. Pathetic creatures that can't even lift a dagger in self defense don't deserve to call themselves Orsimer.

Yaksha: Hm? *turns and looks for Morana, noticing her still talking to Yamarz* ...?

Morana: *glances over at Yaksha*

Yaksha: ...! *waves sweetly, smiling*

Morana: ..... *reaches and yanks Yamarz down by the neck of his armor, leaning in and whispering in his ear quietly* Listen to me and listen well, Yamarz.

Yamarz: ?! What is the meaning of this-?? Let go of me!

Morana: Yaksha is the most talented, kind, empathetic person I have ever met. His healing would save thousands more lives than your lack of brains and surplus of brawn ever would. His clan thrived under his care, while yours suffers at your lack.

Yamarz: ...

Morana: One of you is the worse Orc, and it sure as hell is not him. And if you ever disrespect my friend again, I will brew a poison so strong, your intestines will recoil and expel themselves from your body, allowing you to learn what it feels like to vomit your own guts. I will allow you to choke on them and take pleasure in watching your slow and miserably painful death. Do I make myself clear?

Yamarz: *sweating, visibly afraid of the little Dunmer* ... Whatever.

Morana: Hmph. *releases him, turning and walking back towards the group without a second glance*

Yaksha: Are you alright, Morana? You seemed very angry just now.

Morana: *smiles, shaking her head to reassure him* Yamarz is a very mean person. He's irritating to have to talk to.

Yaksha: Mm..

Morana: Shall we set off for Fallowstone Cave, then?

Xelzaz: No? Why are we even helping him??

Morana: ...

Xelzaz: Morana?

Morana: Let's just follow along for now.

At Fallowstone Cave...

Yamarz: *watching the giants swarming the shrine nervously* ... You know..

Morana: *perched in a tree above him* Hm.

Yamarz: ... I have another offer for you. Some good gold in it, if you do. Go up there and retrieve that club for me. The stronghold would never know I never got it.

Morana: ... *shakes her head, a quiet huff of a laugh escaping her* No way.

Yamarz: Huh? Why not?

Morana: Putting my previous threat aside-

Kaidan: Threat???

Inigo: I'll tell you later.

Morana: -I will not go against what your God has ordered. Daedric Prince or not, Malacath or Trinimac, I have no wish to anger any sort of divine or hellbound being. You kill those giants on your own, or die trying.

Yamarz: ... Hmph. Fine. You just wait here, then. This will only take a moment. *draws his weapon and charges towards the giants with a battle cry, instantly getting launched into the air by their clubs*

Team Dragonborn: *watches him get launched, and follows his descent as he plummets back towards the ground and dies*

Morana: ... Welp. At least he wasn't lying when he said it would be quick. Inigo, may I borrow your bow?

Inigo: Of course, my friend. Er, but.. Can you-

Morana: I'll be fine. I know how to shoot at the very least, and it only needs to be strong enough to pierce their skin. *reaches down and takes the bow from Inigo along with a few ebony arrows, taking the tips of them and dousing them in a sizzling liquid*

Xelzaz: What on earth is that?

Morana: Take a guess.

Xelzaz: *hisses, recoiling at the smell* Jarrin root.

Morana: Yep. *draws an arrow, the other pinched between her fingers for the next shot. Fires, lodging the arrow in the biggest giant's neck and watching as it falls to the ground instantly*

Lucien: ... That stuff really is terrifying.

Inigo: Not as terrifying as Morana when she's angry, I think.

#skyrim #tes #the elder scrolls #modded skyrim #dragonborn #ldb oc #kaidan skyrim #lucien flavius #inigo skyrim #yaksha skyrim #xelzaz skyrim

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19thperson · 1 year

Text

So there's a kerfuffle going on at YouTube right now. This RTGame vid covers is but the tl;dr version is this:

Youtube's new guidelines tightened up on swearing and violence, including animated/video game violence, and the policy back applies to all previously uploaded videos, demonetizations and age restrictions.

And it makes me question something about how youtube functions. I'm not expecting to find an answer, just rambling/putting thoughts in order.

The reason that channels try to avoid demonetization isn't purely financial. A lot of them don't rely solely on youtube as a job, or have alternative funding like Patreon/Kofi/in-video sponsorships. The reason is that Youtube's reccomendation algorithm tends to bury demonetized/restricted videos, and views tend to crater right after flagging. This is a double problem in that the performance of a previous video is a factor in how much the next video is promoted.

But... why do they do this?

To clarify, demonetization isn't "ads disabled." Rather, there are two types of advertiser on youtube: companies that don't want to be associated with "inappropriate" content (Huggees doesn't want to be in front of a GTA video) and advertisers whose are more lenient. Demonetization makes it so the former's ads won't run on your vid, while the latter will. The former tends to be bigger, better paying brands, so there’s financial incentive for both youtube and creators to cater to them. But the latter are still paying for ad space.

Doesn’t the current arrangement show a failure as a data company, though?

Google’s game is targeted advertising. Getting your stuff to the “right” audience is more important than getting it to the biggest audience. That being the case:

If “ad-friendly” videos are being artificially boosted, that means that the ads are being shown to surplus, unintended demographics. The targeted advertising is not being effectively targeted. Advertising budget is wasted.

If “ad-unfriendly” videos are being artificially suppressed, then advertisers who want to associate with more mature subject matter are being actively punished as well, their reach intentionally limited. Advertising budget is wasted.

I could be missing some very important information, I don’t know how the system works from the more corporate side, but it feels like there are two non-contradictory explanations:

1) Google, either implicitly or explicitly, isn’t selling true “targeted” advertising. Companies just want a set number of views, and don’t care as much who sees it. The artificial boost and suppression of videos is there to make sure the bought metrics line up.

2) Youtube wants to limit the range of “acceptability” on their platform for their own brand image reasons, but if they take a direct hand in this, they run the risk of being legally considered a publisher and beholden to new regulations, so the ad policy and video burying is just half-pretense to act as publisher without being considered one.

#Youtube #rambling

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

Text

Podcasting "Twiddler"

This week on my podcast, I read “Twiddler,” a recent Medium column in which I delve more deeply into enshittification, and how it is a pathology of digital platforms, distinct from the rent-seeking of the analog world that preceded it:

https://doctorow.medium.com/twiddler-1b5c9690cce6

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/27/knob-jockeys/#bros-be-twiddlin

Enshittification, you’ll recall, is the lifecycle of the online platform: first, the platform allocates surpluses to end-users; then, once users are locked in, those surpluses are taken away and given to business-customers. Once the advertisers, publishers, sellers, creators and performers are locked in, the surplus is clawed away from them and taken by the platforms.

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

Facebook is the poster-child for enshittification. When FB welcomed the general public in 2006, it sold itself as the privacy-respecting alternative to Myspace, promising users it would never harvest their data. The FB feed consisted of the posts that the people you’d followed — the people you cared about — published.

FB experienced explosive growth, thanks to two factors: “network effects” (every new user was a draw for other users who wanted to converse with them), and “switching costs” (it was practically impossible to convince all the people you wanted to hear from to leave FB, much less agree on what platform to go to next). In other words, every new user who joined FB both attracted more users, and made it harder for those users to leave.

FB attained end-user lockin and was now able to transfer users’ surpluses to business customers. First, it started aggressively spying on users and offered precision targeting at rock-bottom prices to advertisers. Second, it offered media companies “algorithmic” boosting into the feeds of users who hadn’t asked to see their posts.

Media companies that posted brief excerpts to FB, along with links to their sites on the real internet were rewarded with floods of traffic, as their posts were jammed into the eyeballs of millions of FB users who never asked to see them. Media companies and advertisers went all-in for FB, integrating FB surveillance beacons in their presence on the real internet, hiring social media specialists who’d do Platform Kremlinology in order to advise them on the best way to please The Algorithm.

Once those business customers — creators, media companies, advertisers — were locked into FB, the company harvested their surplus, too. On the ad side, FB raised rates and decreased expensive anti-fraud measures, meaning that advertisers had to pay more, even as an increasing proportion of their ads were either never served, or never seen.

With media companies and creators, FB not only stopped jamming their content in front of people who never asked to see it, they actively suppressed the spread of business users’ posts even to their own subscribers. FB required media companies to transition from excerpts to fulltext feeds, and downranked or simply blocked posts that linked back to a business user’s own site, be it a newspaper’s web presence or a creator’s crowdfunding service. Business users who wanted to reach the people who had explicitly directed FB to incorporate their media in users’ feeds had to pay to “boost” their materials.

This is the (nearly) complete enshittification cycle: having harvested the surplus from users and business customers, FB is now (badly) attempting to surf the line where nearly all the value in the service lands in its shareholders’ pockets, with just enough surplus left behind to keep end-users and business-users locked in (see also: Twitter).

There have been lots of other abusive “platform” businesses in the past — famously, 19th century railroads and their robber-baron owners were so obnoxiously abusive that they spawned the trustbusting movement, the Sherman Act, and modern competition law. Did the rail barons do enshittification, too?

Well, yes — and no. I have no doubt that robber barons would have engaged in zuckerbergian shenanigans if they could have — but here we run up against the stubborn inertness of atoms and the slippery liveliness of bits. Changing a railroad schedule to make direct connections with cities where you want to destroy a rival ferry business (or hell, laying track to those cities) is a slow proposition. Changing the content recommendation system at Facebook is something you do with a few mouse-clicks.

Which brings me to the thesis of “Twiddler”: enshittification doesn’t arise from the special genius or the unique wickedness of tech barons — rather, it’s the product of the ability to twiddle. Our discourse has focused (rightly) on the extent to which platforms are “instrumented” — that is, the degree to which they spy on and analyze their users’ conduct.

But the discussion of what the platforms do with that data — the ways they “react” to it — has echoed the platforms’ own boasts of transcendental “behavior modification” prowess (c.f. “Surveillance Capitalism”) while giving short shrift to the extremely mundane, straightforward ways that the ability to change the business-logic of a platform lets it allocate and withdraw surpluses from different kinds of users to get them on the hook, reel them in, and then skin and devour them.

The Twiddler thesis, in other words, is a counter to the narrative of Maria Farrell’s Prodigal Tech Bros, who claim that they were once evil sorcerers, but, having seen the error of their ways, vow to be good sorcerers from now on, forswearing “hacking our dopamine loops” like vampires swearing off blood:

https://conversationalist.org/2020/03/05/the-prodigal-techbro/

People who repeat the claims of Prodigal Tech Bros are engaging in criti-hype, Lee Vinsel’s term for criticism that repeats tech’s own mystical narratives of their own superhuman prowess, rather than grappling with the mundanity of doing old conjurer’s tricks very quickly, with computers:

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

That’s what twiddling is — doing the same things that grocery store monopolists and rail monopolists and music label monopolists have always done, but very quickly, with computers. Whether it’s Amazon rooking sellers and authors, or Apple and Google’s App Stores rooking app creators, or Tiktok and Youtube rooking performers, or Uber rooking drivers, the underlying pattern of surplus-harvesting is the same, and so is the method. They do the same thing as their predecessors, but very quickly, with computers.

A grocer who wants to price-gouge on eggs needs to dispatch an army of low-waged employees with pricing guns. AmazonFresh does the same thing in an eyeblink, by typing a new number into a field on a web-form and clicking submit. As is so often the case when a magic trick is laid bare, the actual mechanic is very, very boring: the way to make a nickel appear to vanish is to spend hundreds of hours practicing before a mirror while you shift so it is clenched between your fingers, and protrudes from behind your hand (sorry, spoiler alert).

The trick can be baffling and marvellous when you see it, but once you know how it’s done, it’s pretty obvious — the difference is that most sleight-of-hand artists don’t think they’re sorcerers, while plenty of tech bros believe their own press.

There’s a profound irony in twiddling’s role in enshittification: early internet scholarship rightly hailed the power of twiddling for internet users. Theorists like Aram Sinnreich described this as configurability — the ability of end-users (aided by tinkerers, small businesses, and co-ops) to modify the services they used to suit their own needs:

https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt5vk8c2

Arguably the most successful configurability story is ad-blocking, which Doc Searls calls “the biggest boycott in human history.” Billions of end-users of the web have twiddled their browsers so that they aren’t tracked by ad-tech and don’t see ads:

https://blogs.harvard.edu/doc/2015/09/28/beyond-ad-blocking-the-biggest-boycott-in-human-history/

Configurability was at the heart of early hopes for mass disintermediation, because audiences and performers (or sellers and producers) could go direct to one another, assembling a customized, un-capturable conduit composed of an a-la-carte selection of payment processors, webstores, mail and web hosts, etc. Whenever one of these utilities tried to capture that relationship and harvest an unfair share of the surplus, both ends of the transaction could foil them by blocking, reverse-engineering, modding, or mashing them up, wriggling off the hook before it could set its barbs.

But — as we can all see — a funny thing happened on the way to the 21st century. The platforms seized the internet, turning it into “five giant websites, each filled with screenshots of the other four”:

https://twitter.com/tveastman/status/1069674780826071040

Three factors let them do this:

1. They were able to buy or merge with every major competitor, and where that failed them, they were able to use predatory pricing to drive competitors out of the market:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/16/tweedledumber/#easily-spooked

2. They were able to twiddle their services, setting them a-bristle with surveillance beacons and digital actuators that could rearrange the virtual furniture every time some knob-jockey touched their dial:

https://doctorow.medium.com/twiddler-1b5c9690cce6

3. They were able to hoard the twiddling, using laws like the DMCA, CFAA, noncompetes, trade secrecy, and other “IP” laws to control the conduct of their competitors, critics and customers:

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

That last point is very important: it’s not just that big corporations twiddle us to death — it’s that they have made it illegal for us to twiddle back. Adblocking is possible on the open web, but to ad-block your Iphone, you must first jailbreak it, which is a crime. Yes, Apple will block Facebook from spying on you — but even if you opt out of tracking, Apple still spies on you in exactly the same way Facebook did, to power their own ad-targeting business:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

This is what Jay Freeman calls “felony contempt of business-model” — the literal criminalization of configuration. When Netflix wants to decide who is and isn’t a member of your family, they just twiddle their back-end to block the child that moves back and forth between your home and your ex’s, thanks to your joint custody arrangement:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/02/nonbinary-families/#red-envelopes

But woe betide the parent who twiddles back to restore their child’s service, by jailbreaking an app or the W3C’s official, in-browser DRM, EME — trafficking in a tool to bypass EME and reconfigure your browser to suit your needs, rather than Netflix’s, is a felony punishable by a five-year prison sentence and a $500k fine, under Section 1201 of the DMCA:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/09/open-letter-w3c-director-ceo-team-and-membership

This is the supreme irony of twiddling: Big Tech companies love to twiddle you, but if you touch your own knob, they call it a crime. Just as Big Tech firms turned “free software” into “open source” and then took all the software freedom for themselves, configurability is now the exclusive purview of corporations — those transhuman, immortal colony paperclip maximizers that treat humans as inconvenient gut-flora:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=vBknF2yUZZ8

If we are to take the net back, we’ll need to seize the means of computation. There are three steps to that process:

1. Traditional antitrust: Merger scrutiny, breakups, and bans on predatory pricing and other anticompetitive practices:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2022/01/federal-trade-commission-justice-department-seek-strengthen-enforcement-against-illegal-mergers

2. Anti-twiddling laws for businesses: A federal privacy law with a private right of action, labor protections, and other rules that take knobs away from tech platforms:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/01/you-should-have-right-sue-companies-violate-your-privacy

3. Pro-twiddling laws for users: Interoperability (both mandatory and adversarial — AKA “Competitive Compatibility” or “comcom”):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/05/time-for-some-game-theory/#massholes

Monopolists and their handmaidens — witting and unwitting — want you to believe that their dominance is inevitable (shades of Thatcher’s “there is no alternative”), because the great forces of history, the technical characteristics of digital technology, and the sorcerous mind-control of dopamine-hackers.

But the reality is much more mundane. Digital freedom was never a mirage. Indeed, it is a prize of enormous value — that’s why the platforms are so intent on hoarding it all for themselves.

Here’s this week’s podcast episode:

https://craphound.com/news/2023/02/27/twiddler/

And here’s a direct link to download the MP3 (hosting courtesy of the Internet Archive ; they’ll host your media for free, forever):

Here’s the direct feed to subscribe to my podcast:

http://feeds.feedburner.com/doctorow_podcast

And here’s the original “Twiddler” article on Medium:

https://doctorow.medium.com/twiddler-1b5c9690cce6

Image: Stephen Drake (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Analog_Test_Array_modular_synth_by_sduck409.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

This Thu (Mar 2) I’ll be in Brussels for Antitrust, Regulation and the Political Economy, along with a who’s-who of European and US trustbusters. It’s livestreamed, and both in-person and virtual attendance are free. On Fri (Mar 3), I’ll be in Graz for the Elevate Festival.

[Image ID: A mandala made from a knob and button-covered control panel.]

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