#GOOD MEN DIE TOO SO ID RATHER BE WITH YOU

[belovedbow]

i was right about crush by ethel cain being a blake/bestie song

[lovehymndead]

he looks like he works with his hands,

and smells like marlboro reds -

it makes me so (uh),

and i can't get enough of it

[silenab]

girl are you going to write the fic or just keep pacing around to ethel cain thinking about the fic

[tenjiiku]

😐 luna what happened to u being exempt from the michael kaiser epidemic.....u said it hadn't gotten to you yet. has thou eaten thy own words? if so, c'mere and i'll give ur forehead a big kiss and we can be hypocrites together ♡ if not, u must be god's strongest soldier for not being converted by men who are bad for u

I am exempt!!!!! I am 100% exempt. I’m standing outside the door of the Michael Kaiser Club and observing/testing the waters. You almost got me with that last line though very Ethel Cain crush of you.

[rumbleball]

good men die too , so id rather be with you

[dedalvs]

ive done a lot of translating to high valyrian in my day and id like to think im pretty good at it sometimes (the way ive spent literal hours researching how just one piece of grammar works to change a noun to an adverb or something is maybe insane)

anyway all that to say i usually know what to look for and how to apply it, but i am struggling with this new bit im trying to translate. “i disdain all glittering gold.”

ive replaced disdain with hate cause there doesnt seem to be a word for disdain in valyrian and hate is the closest approximation. same with glittering — replaced that with shine, and had to manually transform that to an adjective (jehikagon -> jehikere? dunno if its right)

so what i have now is “nyke buqan unir jehikere aeksion”

(im not as concerned with getting the word order right as i am with the rest of the grammar)

ive learned from a previous answer “nyke” is potentially (probably) unnecessary here, so that leaves it as “buqan unir jehikere aeksion,” but the unir there in the middle kinda makes it feel off and im not sure if maybe that also needs to be part of a compound word like valar or how to make it one if so because idk what part of valar is all and what part is men and how to fit aeksion into that equation.

i lost track of what my question was originally meant to be but i guess im wondering if im on the right track and if theres some guidance you may have to get me all the way there.

thank you for your time 🙏

Uhhhhhh... Not to be that dude, but...maybe be more concerned with that...?

I'm not sure if you know about this site, but my wiki is exhaustively updated with respect to High Valyrian, specifically. There's a team of people that work on High Valyrian and it's massive. For example, you could go to the entry for jehikagon and see that jehikere is wrong: it should be jehikare. And, of course, it has to agree with āeksion (note the long ā), so it should be jehikarior. To get the sense of repetitiveness (with "glittering"), you might add ā- to the front, so ājehikarior.

Now for "all", why not use the collective? This is how you get "All men must die", so it should work for "I distain all glittering gold". That would be āeksior. Of course, it would need to be in the accusative, so altogether it would be ājehikarior āeksȳndi. By adding the repetitive you kind of get the aliteration, too, since they both begin with ā.

Finally you have "disdain", for which buqagon serves. Aside from sound a little more posh, the difference between "disdain" and "hate" in English seems to be one of duration. The words "disdain" and "loathe" seem to emphasize that this is a character trait rather than a reaction. If you disdain something, you've given it some thought, have experience with it, and may use this as a way of describing or characterizing yourself. You can do this with "hate" as well, but it's a much more common word, and so can be used in other more basic ways, whereas "disdain" and "loathe" tend to only have specalized uses. To try to approximate this, you could use the frequentative with buqagon to imply a lengthy duration. That would give you jobuqan "I disdain". In fact, you could even use the aorist if you really wanted to imply that it was a description of yourself, i.e. jobuqin.

Now that you have the pieces, though, I really hate to say it, but the words must be in the right order. I mean, you can change the order of the noun and adjective, if you'd like, but you simply cannot put the verb first and think you've created a Valyrian sentence. It's not just "kind of" wrong: it's completely wrong. It'd be like suggesting "I him saw" is close enough in English because the forms are correct. It's not. It's wrong. This is not a minor part of the grammar you can ignore. High Valyrian is aggressively verb-final. The verb must be at the end.

All in all, that gives you:

Ājehikarior āeksȳndi jobuqin.

Hope that helps!

[steelycunt]

hiiiii…. do you have any book recommendations? i think we have similar taste :)

hi! yeah! i definitely have some recs, although they’ll all be books i’ve talked about on here before so they probably won’t be very new for anyone who’s been following me for a while 😭 not sure what you’re after specifically but this is just everything i’ve enjoyed! anything with as asterisk is a special favourite : ^ )

books ive read this year:

(fiction)

boulder* - eva baltasar: very short read but baltasar’s prose is 2 die for! second in a trilogy but im pretty sure they can all be read as standalones. also nice to see fiction that treats lesbians as seriously as piles and piles of arty litfic treat gay men rather than the clipart cover of two women with a title like ‘Jemima Mulligan Is So Done 🤣’ that comes up when you search lesbian fiction now.

all quiet on the western front* (+ the way back/the road back) - erich maria remarque: only classic im going to mention (i could talk about james baldwin all day) but this is my favourite book i’ve read this year! and my only five star fiction read so far this year. absolutely heartbreaking!! and if you enjoy it i would say it’s worth reading the sequel, the way back.

hangman - maya binyam: read this recently and honestly think it’s quite a marmite book i think you’ll either enjoy the absurdity of it or find it deeply irritating almost straight away but. i thought it was wonderfully disorientating + not too long that the style started to grate on me + an great postcolonial work

we need to talk about kevin* - lionel shriver: such a terrifyingly good book omg. prose is a bit dense which at least i found a bit daunting at first but it’s soo intricate and absorbing and horrific.

penance* (+ boy parts) - eliza clark: was honestly a bit surprised to like this as much as i did my expectations were pretty low but i thought it was a genuinely excellent depiction of modern teenagers + the way they use social media (i have never seen it done so well) + the intricacies of the dynamics between young girls against the backdrop of ‘true’ crime. if you like it you’ll probably also enjoy boy parts so i recommend that too!

antarctica + walk the blue fields - claire keegan: keegan is imo one of the best storytellers writing today and these two short story collections by her were wonderful this year! my favourite of her work is foster but since there are multiple stories in these collections id say they’re the best place to start!

my work - olga ravn: quite experimental in terms of style there’s a lot of prose spliced with prose which i wasn’t sure would be for me (im an idiot) but i thought it was a really fascinating look at motherhood + creation + post-partum depression!

(non-fiction)

dont actually have a ton of non-fiction books 2 mention just adding this category in to recommend empire of pain* - patrick radden keefe as a book i finished recently and one of if not the best non-fiction book ive ever read. just so incredibly interesting i can’t stress enough

some quickfire books i read last year/year before!

duck feet - ely percy

juno loves legs - karl geary

archive of alternate endings* - lindsey drager

shuggie bain* + young mungo* - douglas stuart

my brilliant friend* - elena ferrante

the secret history + the goldfinch - donna tartt

mr loverman - bernadine evaristo (SAINT LUCIA MENTIONED 🇱🇨)

the marriage portrait - maggie o’farrell

the passion - jeanette winterson

[zalrb]

You have posts about building up relationships, but they're all about tv shows. Are there ways to build up couples from strangers to stelena level love without the benefit of multiple episodes without the relationship feeling contrived - like rose and jack. If they weren't teenagers I'd be harder to accept their id die for you status even though we've only known each three days.

Oh, I have posts about movies too, they're just less popular.

Cecilia and Robbie in Atonement. When I read this ask, my mind automatically went to them but I felt like I should do a list since I have so many ships and sometimes I forget a few, not because I don’t ship them, but just because I have so many but I don’t know there’s something about Cecila and Robbie … it’s not just that I find their story beautifully tragic because there are a lot of beautifully tragic ships on this list, it’s McAvoy and Knightley together and as actors unto themselves, the way they hold the emotion of their characters and their relationship in their bodies

and the cinematography, the certain directorial choices that reinforce the romance

and romance and period of the film

like the fact that Cecilia was in the fountain

and so just to get close to her, just to feel something that’s touched her, Robbie puts his hand atop the water

and they gave us this scene!

It’s a beautiful film and they’re a beautiful ship.

or

OK well first of all, it’s beautifully shot with the soft blue lighting and it’s extremely sensual with the waves crashing in the background mingling with Chiron’s sighs, the close ups of the hands grabbing at the sand and then smoothing the palm over the sand,

and then there’s the context of this being the single most vulnerable, single most intimate moment, connection Chiron’s had with another person

[I think what’s so great and so heartbreaking about this confession is the second line where it goes from “you’re the only man” to “you’re the only one” so it’s actually not just romantic, he hasn’t had that kind of connection or intimacy with anyone else in any other capacity, it’s just and always has been Kevin.]

and then there’s the fact that this is an intimate, gentle love scene between two Black boys/men. I just love this movie so much.

There is such a weight to this movie and to the dynamics portrayed in this movie and there’s almost this cosmic connection between Chiron [Black] and Kevin

that I think the actors portray really well

because it’s a movie with very little dialogue so they convey so much without speaking and obviously a lot of that is the acting but a lot of it is also having the chemistry to pull it off.

or

(I mean, granted, they have three movies but still) and with Willabeth I kind of talk about how they're a great ship in pieces/different posts

by the way, when mindy kaling says “you can’t write chemistry”

this is what she means because it’s written in the script that will catches elizabeth and presses her against the wall

but it didn’t state that it would be like this

this, though,

they brought that shit to life

like there’s this perception of passion as being carnal rather than sensual or like strong emotion that brings about an intensity or a kind of ‘i burn for you’ type deal but when I think of passion, I think of shit like this

and Elizabeth and Will’s intense need to protect each other and stay with each other

I don't even care for this couple but I broke down how cinematic language can reinforce a connection between two characters and help the romance along

Their dance scene — which is beautifully shot — is a good example of a scene that uses certain cinematic language to enhance tension in a scene without relying on those things to create it,  like this [...]

and there are more.

[megsssshie]

Ms. Perfect

FEATURING: fratboy!gojo satoru

CONTENT: nsfw,me,fingering,unprotected sex,name calling, rough sex, kinda non!con at first, mean mean gojo, my personal opinion on frat boys

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

A/N: this was kinda at little too personal when it came to frat boys! 3 days left thooo and i never thought id degrade myself like this what i do for myself-

I was invited by my dumb college friends to some stupid frat party for Halloween. I hate parties, I hate people. I would much rather be in my apartment reading, or watching some cheesy horror movie where all the characters die in absurd ways.

But here I was, standing in front of my full body mirror dressed in a way too revealing dark angel costume I managed to string together at the very last minute.

Apparently, the party was some grand event where stupid teenage girls went as an excuse to “let off steam” or ‘live a little’, which roughly translated to ‘i want an excuse to be a slut ,get drunk, and hook up with a random horny frat boy and catch god knows what from him!’ all enthusiastically. That could never be me. Out of all the people in the world, the ones I hate the most were frat boys. the list could go on and on about the reasons I hate them so much. but the most important was the biggest reason of them all.

they’re all idiots.

if hating frat boys was first on the shit list, idiots were the second.

I facetimed my best friend Emma, to check in on me when she would pick me up. she was the one who managed to convince me that going to this lame party would get me out of my shell, if there was a shell to be broken that is. to me, I didn’t have a ‘shell’, I was just introverted.

she picked up. “hey shorty— oooo you look so sexy, i bet all them sexy bitches are gonna foam at the mouth looking at you!” she geeked. I fought a smile. she’s always managed toget me in a better mood. “ugh, you bitch. you’re the one who wanted me to go to this dumb ass party. you know i hate the weirdos that host them.” I replied half joking.

she knew that I was slightly serious about what I was telling her, but she also knew deep down in her heart that I would have a good time. “oh come on Ash, you have to live sometime in your life. what would you even been doing right now? reading some stupid ass book while you could be getting laid?” I scoffed at her comment. “hey! books ARE better than boys. you know i hate the guys in the frat, i'm not going to have a good time.” I rolled my eyes. “when are you getting here”

“im basically outside your house, come outside dummy”

“ i’ll be out in a minute”

I hung up. ran to get my charger, headphones and everything else a girl needs to go for a night out.

I arrived at the party with my best friend Emma and she practically had a flock of 27 billion men approach her within the first 3 hours. she dragged me to the dance floor for a couple of songs we both enjoyed every once in a while. Though I would never admit it but I was enjoying myself. “aren’t you glad you came tiny?” she asked excitedly. I put my phone down and crossed my arms. “eh not really it’s kinda meh for me, but the guys sure seem to love you” I smiled. I was definitely happy for her, it just kind of stung to not have anyone look at me the same way they did her. I wasnt’t ugly that’s for sure, but my bestfriend happened to be the definition sexy asf . So that unfortunately made me look less attractive by comparison to other people. but I just had to suck it up, right?

“you’re not the only one shorty, someone’s been eyeing you up all night.” she smirked. “WHAT?!” I yelped, probably a little too loud for anyone’s liking. I felt the stares of at least a dozen people on you, but its not like the reaction was disingenuous. I never had been attractive to guys. so the surprise of the comment was indeed genuine. I would have never thought in a million years that a man would look at me next to your best friend.

in a hushed tone loud enough for only her to hear I asked “who?” she giggled.

“the cutie in the ghost face mask”

I turned in the direction she was nodding in. I saw a very attractive man in the mask. she wasn’t lying when she said he was cute. but it was kind of an under-exaggeration. he was hot. like extremely hot. not like I could see his face with that damn mask on but just by his demeanor he was hot. but that doesn’t excuse the fact that he looked like a man whore in that black tank top and grey sweatpants.

“fuck me”.

I shook my head violently. me and a man? never. I also hate men. that was probably the second reason I hate frats. but I definitely couldn’t deny he was for sure attractive. the way the tightness of the black cloth around his chest was almost just as sinful as the budding warmth in between my legs.

I was probably staring for a second too long because I heard “cutie approaching right fucking now.”

“oh shit”. I mumbled trying to calm myself before he gets to me.

why the fuck am I so nervous? I should be even giving this man the time of day, and yet here I was nervously sweating at the thought of him. I don’t get to finish my thoughtshoughts before you hear a “hey”

oh.my.fucking.god

his voice. his fucking voice. oh my god. you could of turned to mush at the sound of it. I would just love to hear how he sound when he’s inside of-

“sorry, did my beauty stun you darling?”

I snapped out of my thoughts and looked up at him. ‘ugh, great’ you thought. ‘another man ruined by opening his mouth’. third thing on the shit list was. cocky men.

“um, no. hi” I managed to get out, though it was barely audible. “i can’t even see how you look, how do i know your not lying to me about your ‘beauty’” I teased, a lot more confidently than before. I could see my best friend practically jaw dropped at the interaction from the corner of my eye.

what she and him didn’t know is that I am absolutely shitting my pants right about now.

he leaned in closer and gripped my chin. holy fuck was I trembling? ‘yeah, he’s hot’ . I was sort of scared and excited all at the same time. and I was sure he knew it too. he tipped my head around, almost like he was studying me. I couldn’t be more thrilled and disgusted at the same time. why was I letting this complete stranger touch me, let alone a frat boy. who even was I right now?

he essentially engulfed you with his shadow, standing so tall it was unfathomable. “you don’t have to see my face to know im gorgeous, angel. just know that i am and take it as fact”

“im gonna get a drink, you two have fun” your best friend chimed. I glared at her and then giving that ‘don’t leave me here, help me bitch’ look. “have fun~” she repeated walking away from the two of us. I was tempted to yell after her to not to leave me with this total stranger. ‘that fucking bitch left me with this asshole’, I internally grumbled. he seemed to notice my change in body language. “hey, don’t worry darling, i’ll take great care of you while that little friend of yours is gone.” he purred in my ear.

I replied sarcastically. “yeah because all of you frat boys are just incredible at taking care of girls.” he paused for a moment. “wow! honey, you think that low of me? i’m hurt” he stated dramatically, one hand on his chest, and the other snakes around my waist gripped tighty.

“well, my my angel, i’ll show you just how good i can treat you. maybe then it’ll shut that mouth of yours”

I grew nervous. what was he going to do to me? the thought of everything that simple sentence had me spiraling in arousal. I knew I shouldn’t have even been considering the possibility of what he would be doing. I knew damn well what he wants out of me. and frankly I didn’t care. I squeezed my thighs attempting to relieve the rapid thumping in between my legs.

“you don’t have to squirm darling, let me help you” he forces his knee up against the wall in between my legs . I whimper trying to keep all attention off of me at this very moment. the last thing I needed to do was be caught with someone like him. I attempted to push him off of me but he was too heavy for me. he left a trail of kisses from my jawline all the way to my collarbone. biting harder with each kiss. I wriggled around trying to push him off of me, scared to get caught.

“nuh uh, no resisting my love. you know just as well as i do that you want this” he purred. he was right I did want this. I wanted to be taken advantage of in front of all these people. the thought of it making the wet spot in my panties grow bigger and bigger. “shut the fuck up.” I muttered. he slightly backed away for a second.

“really now? is this what we’re doing now honey?” he sighed. “i bet your fucking hideous under that mask. maybe this is the only way you can even have a girl even slightly attracted to you-“ before I could even finish the sentence I jolted toward and felt his big hand gripped around my wrist. “hey! what the fuck are you doing asshole?! get the fuck off of me!” I yelped.

“i tried to be nice to you darling, but you just couldn’t be good for me huh”

I continued to hit and curse at him until I reached a bed room. he practically flung me to the full sized mattress on the other side of the room, before locking the door and marching towards me. that small mix of excitement and fear suddenly rushes back into me. I decide to be bitchy, not like that hasn’t worked for me before.

“what the actual fuck was that for you dickhead? that fucking hurt” I whined.

he suddenly gripped my jaw, your panties are sopping. “i tried to be nice with you doll, but you just had to ruin it with your bratty mouth. if you want to act like a bitch, i’ll treat you like one”

something about that threat scared me, but at this point I absolutely destroyed any type of common sense I may have had before entering the party was surely abandoned. so before I know it a statement I'd learn to soon to regret slips out of your mouth.

“so do it then, mother fucker”

without any sort of hesitation he pushes me hard, deeper into the bed and forcefully chokes me. I can’t even breathe and yet I hear yourself moaning. something about being treated like an object was doing it for me.

“you like being treated like a filthy whore,baby? yeah?” I nodded frantically, almost begging for him to continue.

his knees were on either side of me, keeping you from resisting. its not like I was going to anyway.

he removed his hand from my throat, and made his down into that black little mini skirt that went with my costume. he felt around a little bit until he found your clit and slowly rubbing it in circles. “ah fuck” I whimpered. “yeah? you like that baby? tell me how much you love it” he spoke, in an extremely demanding tone. “i love it when you touch me,baby” I said trying my best to hold back the noises trying to escape my mouth.

“tell me everything you want me to do to you and i’ll do it to you if you’re good” he said picking up the pace with his fingers, earning a low gasp from me.

“i want you to slap me. i want you to spit on me and call me a whore, daddy. make me your bitch” I said pleadingly. at this point, I didn’t give a damn how pathetic I sounded. he was too good at making me feel good. I may or may not regret it in the morning, but that’s a problem for future me.

“that’s my good girl, don’t your worry your pretty little head. i’m gonna make you feel real good tonight babe” he removed his finger from my clit and I whined at the lack of stimulation. but it was replaced with a sense of fullness. he inserted two of his lengthy fingers inside of me. lubed up with my slick and juices. he used the pad of his thumb to continue circling my clit.

I gasped loudly this time not holding back any of the noises I made. My eyes rolled back from the pleasure of him. he curled his fingers inside my pussy, carefully and slowly as if he was looking for something.

“OH MY GOD” I threw your head back, gripping the sheets. my tits bounced in response to me back arching and me squriming. “yeah? looks like i found your g-spot, take it bitch, take my fucking fingers inside of you”

he finally took off the mask and put it on the top of his head. I hate to admit it but he was right. he was gorgeous. he had those aquamarine blue eyes. god, it would look even more gorgeous looking up at me.

I couldn’t really pay attention to his features for too long before he took both of my legs over his shoulders, his hands having a heavy, almost painful grip on both of my thighs and started eating me out like it was his first meal in decades. his tounge was like magic. he was lapping my cunt up so good he had me staring. I was a moaning mess. I kept loudly rambling about how good it felt, my quivering legs clasped together with his head it the middle of my thighs.

“you’re being so good for me baby, you taste so good” the praise only made my moans grow louder. he moved his hand onto one of my tits squeezing my nipple and simultaneously sucking on my clit, having me practically screaming.

“baby, fuck, i’m gonna cum. please can i cum”

“cum for me darling”

soon I was seeing white and sobbing thank you’s

but that didn't stop eating me.despite my cry’s of pleasure and overstimulation. I was babbling about god knows what before he finally stopped.

I feel relieved but the relief is broken quickly by his words.

“we’re not done yet darling, i have so many more things i need to do to you.”

he hikes my skirt up and pulls your thong down to my ankles. then pulls my shirt down just enough for both my breasts to be exposed, he removes his shirt and sweats to expose his long hard cock. it was definitely big, scary big. I didn’t even know how it was possible for it to fit inside of me but I was dumb and painfully horny so it’s not like that was important right now.

“open your mouth” he demanded. I was confused but I didn’t question it. I obliged and I feel his saliva reach my mouth. you swallowed and opened your mouth again to show for it.

“good fucking girl” and with that he rammed his dick inside my sensitive pussy. I screamed “YES” with my eyes rolling back and pulling his body closer to mine, my nails clawing on his back. he bit my neck while he bottomed out and rhythmically thrusted in and out of me , his hand making its way around my neck. I hear his quiet moans in your ear, that was almost enough to make me climax right then and there.

he pulled out of me and flipped me on my stomach and grabbed my hair, pulling me towards him, forcing an large arch in my back. the wet slapping sounds continued to get more and more frequent. “who’s pussy is this?” he growled. “yours!” I exclaimed “say my name bitch” he moaned. “it’s yours daddy” I screamed. “that’s a good little slut. taking daddy’s dick like this? you like that yeah?”

“yes!” I sobbed, coming close to my orgasm. “please pound my pussy like the whore i am, pleasepleasepleasePLEASE” I rambled. he moaned, slapping my ass. he flipped me back into missionary, I whined at the loss of contact.

“i want to see your face when you cum” he said, putting the mask back on. he slammed himself into me, and thrusting much quicker than before. he spit on my face and his fingers made it back to my clit.

“oh my god, im gonna cum”

he didn’t go any faster or any slower, he just kept ramming his hard cock inside my dripping pussy. “cum for me angel, cum for me.”

my legs were shaking as the overwhelming sense of pleasure washed over my entire body, my babbles and tight cunt added onto his high. he didn’t stop thrusting, making me overstimulated and screaming. my brain turning into mush.

“fuck i’m gonna cum too baby” he moaned.

like he said, he did indeed cum. his semen spilling inside of me, me spamming from the feeling of his warm cum inside of me. I knew after this, there’s no way in hell I wasn’t pregnant after this.

he pulled his cock out of me, his cum dripping out of my pussy. he seemed mesmerized by the sight. I took my finger and scooped up some of the cum and put them inside my mouth.

he rushed around the room looking for a towel and cleaned me up.

“i hope whoever’s room this is, isn’t going to be too upset about this” he chuckled.

“this isn’t even your room???”I half laughed.

“nope,but on another note, i think i might of gotten you pregnant which is kind of hot” he said nervously

I laughed and said something even more embarrassing

“and this is probably way too late to ask, but what’s your name again?”

"Gojo Satoru, Gojo."

"Well Satoru Gojo, I had fun." I say winking.

© ashieluvsmegs — do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. translations + modifications are not permitted.

[lunarsilkscreen]

Micropricing

I got pinged for implying phone services were overcharging for "caller ID and Visual Voicemail" on truth social. So I'm going into one of the ways businesses take advantage of users: Micropricing.

First, Caller ID is already built into the system. It has been for at least three decades. Back then it might've cost more to send you a name attached to the number it wouldn't show you either. But that's why we had phone books and answer machines.

Now, spam-robots can call you daily for much less than it costs you to keep your phone connected to the service you're paying for. And because of the Micropricing strategy, the phone companies "can't afford to use their decades old technology in new and innovative ways that protect customers."

Visual Voicemail, on the other hand, is an app that lets you look at who left a message and other details of the sound file attached to it, without having to call you voicemail and do it by touch tone like we're in mad men. And yes, it provides a transcription of the message left. Which is simply an accessibility feature for hard of hearing that they're allowed charge extra for, because they can.

And you wonder why we would rather you just send a text message.

Anyway, Micropricing is a strategy to charge more for services that don't actually cost the company more to provide. And sometimes, for things the user will never use. And sometimes, phone insurance which ultimately costs the user more to use than a phone repair service. (And they don't even help track down lost or stolen devices, EVEN THOUGH THEY CAN. AND YOU PAY A SERVICE FOR PROTECTION.)

A lot of these services are collapsing because the Internet allows more rich data to be sent more efficiently. But here's the thing: old services are tacked onto your bill automatically. we can't*not use them* but phone companies won't update either. So we pay to get the updated old tech that isn't as good as should be standard ten years ago.

A lot of the digital features today aren't like owning a car phone in the 70s. Cell Phones have been the defacto standard for 20 years now. The only thing different is data usage. Which may or may not be restricted thanks to cell tower bandwidth. But in a college town where the bandwidth is always maxed out and everybody needs to use wifi, you're just having people pay to not use the features that worked better ten years ago.

Infrastructure should include phone and internet service. Then *private* companies can just be the fastlane they claim to want to build. But instead they're focused on charging extra for standard features.

Look. Trains caused the word to have to keep pace with a 24 hour clock schedule.

The Internet means the world needs to get off its addiction of 5-year and 10-year plans hoping for people to die before anything can be done to change anything.

Even six months is too long for deliberation. Yeah, it used to be worse, but that's the whole f*ing reason we built technology in the first place, so it wouldn't have to be.

[kittttycakes]

Hey! Sorry for the super late reply to your reply to my last ask. Life has been v. busy.

“the set up of Grace telling Morpheus no, he can’t do that to the office creep only for Hob to be nodding and giving him the go ahead behind her is funny.” <— YES! I love Hob enabling Morpheus’ protective/vengeful side so much.

Also, speaking of, I wanting to share some of the brain rot that came to me the other day…

What if Grace and Hob were walking somewhere late at night and a group of thugs stop them and try to rob them?

Hob gets to pull out some of his combat/dirty fighting skills from his days as a mercenary. Grace is watching this appreciatively, but then a thug they didn’t see gets a hold of Grace (classic knife to neck or hand around throat maybe?) and Hob can’t reach her.

Who then shows up and goes full eldritch horror on the thug still holding Grace and the semi-conscious ones that Hob beat up? (I’ll let you guess…)

And then our favourite Dream lord whisks them both off to the Dreaming for a week where he lingers and kisses and rages over every scrape or bruise Hob and Grace received and much healing smut ensues.

I know, I’m a terrible person. Hope you’re well though!

Ahhh hello!!! Hopefully life has been good-busy and not the alternative, but if it has been, I hope things slow down nicely for you soon!

Hob is absolutely an enabler when it comes to Morpheus (and also to Grace, let’s be honest), and especially when it comes to all of the petty revenges that he’d like Grace not to think him capable of. He wants her to think the best of him, and if that means just quietly encouraging Morpheus from the sidelines in a plausibly deniable way, well…he and Morpheus both know the truth. The most he can get away with is some strongly disapproving looks and some cutting remarks but Morpheus has far more tools at his disposal. Dr. Ward can look forward to many, many nights keeping company with the “all of your teeth fall out of your mouth one by one” nightmare for weeks to come.

Oh yes, this brain rot is my JAM.

Hob would have been willing to let it go if it was just his wallet. He could cancel the cards, get a new ID. The cash is a lost cause but it’s nothing he can’t afford to lose. He’s calm, he’s collected, he’s not escalating the situation, not when it’s so much easier to try to wrap things up this way. It’s not his first time being mugged, and maybe if he was alone, it would be different, but he has Grace to think about.

It’s really not until he asks for her jewelry that it becomes a problem. The earrings are replaceable, as is her watch. But her ring—

It’s two on one, which are odds Hob is fully willing to take, until it’s not. Hob has it entirely under control, and he thought Grace was just keeping back, out of the way, probably a bit torn between running (which means leaving Hob which she doesn’t want to do) and staying (getting to watch, but in an unknown environment). But she trusts Hob and she doesn’t want to be alone at night without him, not when she’s had a few drinks with dinner, not in a part of the city she’s unfamiliar with, and she doesn’t even hear the other man coming up behind her before it’s too late.

Grace has lived a fairly privileged life. This is her first encounter like this, and she just absolutely freezes. She’s terrified. Hob wants to get to her but he’s a few feet away and he doesn’t trust the man with his arm around her, not when he’s holding a knife. She can’t die but that doesn’t mean she can’t feel pain, and she’s afraid of what it would feel like to be stabbed. The street isn’t well lit, but when the lights go even dimmer, she starts to panic—until she sees a pair of very familiar eyes in the darkness. There’s rather more of them than she’s used to, but that’s no matter.

Morpheus may not be able to physically harm a human in the waking world, but there are so very many things worse than physical pain, as all three of the men in the alley are very soon to discover. It’s the work of a moment, and then he can safely take Hob and Grace away to a place of greater safety.

The worst part, for Morpheus, is that they were human. There was nothing Hob or Grace did to target themselves, it was an entirely freak accident that they were there at all, but it means that there isn’t a anything Morpheus can do to prevent it from ever happening again. He’s less concerned with Hob getting hurt than he is with someone touching what’s his. He knows Hob can hold his own, and, in other circumstances, Grace could, too (that girl’s a biter).

This doesn’t stop him from hovering over both of them horribly (they enjoy it) or Grace from fussing over Hob’s hands (the intimacy of hitting someone with his fists, the cracked and bleeding knuckles…nobody look at me). They have so much sex about it. An alarming amount, frankly. Grace is more than a little into the idea of what Hob is capable of, and eldritch horror Morpheus? Mark her down as scared and horny, because she’s going to climb that brain melting monstrosity like a tree.

I’m doing well!! Trying to chug along and make my way through the next chapter which will (fingers very crossed) be done before the end of the month! I have so much brain rot about the three of them, it’s unreal.

[echoesofadream]

you said you there have been some red flags about jk. can you tell me what those are?

we're not twitter army here, no crucifixion

thankful for that god bless. ok let me try to think of everything

when he said "I like things like that" or "its my type" about someone being cute or something, men should be cute not have cute girls as their type. stick to doing aegyo jungkook. women talk normal (...im guilty of not but its ok bc women can do whatever they want but its a red flag when men like girls who speak cutely)

while where at it, him flirting with army on his hour long lives (his lives arent a red flag per say they just make him look pathetic) when army consists of like teenage girls mostly or at least a lot of them.get a life go to war etc

those tank tops he wears that have like open arms like the one he wore in 3d mv and now in the dance practice too. he also wore it in on but it was better then is my opinion. because he looked like he wanted taehyung to devour him and also had so much makeup on and stuff. now he looks like he creep and a sleaze and just really misogynistic. those shirts are since my enemy

Seven official performance video

Justin Bieber fan

watches kdramas. arent those propaganda to brainwash korean woman into believing that men are good and chivalrous when in fact theyre all cheaters who buy sex. ?

"night after night I'll be fucking you right" id rather die jungkook

do i even like this guy

"it's the way you can ride it's the way you can ride"

men having a big dog is always overcompensation for something but im ready to say that jungkook is an exception, he seems like a genuinely nice dog owner that cares about his dog unlike men who get one to seem like more masculine or something. still, im adding it to this list. like for example yeontannie is a green flag to me men should have purse dogs only. but jungkook is also more forgiven bc maybe he wants to feel safe by having a dog that can protect him

feel free to add more!! im probably forgetting some stuff pls help me

[i-want-that-hi-fever]

GOOD MEN DIE TOO SO ID RATHER BE WITH YOU😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 AHHHHHHH FUCKING INSANEEEEE

[shroomi1e]

realistic reasons why genshin men are undateable‼️

ft: aether, albedo, razor, diluc, itto, gorou, childe, zhongli, kaeya, xiao (pt 2)

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

aether

my man is too busy looking for his sister 💀

as nice as he his, he probs doesn't have room in his heart for a relationship

he travels so much, you'd probably get tired if you don't die in teyvat first

if we're talking ab abyss aether however...

he'd be way too obsessed and focused on overthrowing celestia and the gods

and even if he does have room in his heart for you, don't expect to be the first priority

albedo

let's be honest, he doesn't have time for a relationship

he'd probably get bored once he's done learning everything there is to know ab you

a workaholic, working 24/7

also unless you're a science nerd like him, don't be surprised if he just decided to drop you bc you can't catch up with his science ramblings

id imagine he'd use you for weird experiments like in his story quest

razor

a furry

can't communicate

would probably start barking at you idk

would 100% try to lick you

very overprotective bc of his past

would try to give you dead rabbits and squirrels as gifts/signs of affection like how cats or dogs do

diluc

emotionally unavailable but he's hot so it's fine

if you're more emotional/sensitive then he's gonna make you cry at one point or another bc of how cold he is

has his walls built so high, it's gonna take persistence to take them down

too busy running a whole wine industry + protecting monstadt at night

would be SUPER overprotective, borderline suffocating. he's gonna try to hold on to you until it hurts

he doesn't mean it ofc, he's just scared of losing you (fatherless behavior smh)

he needs to get a lot of his shit together before he can start a proper relationship *cough cough* KAEYA *cough cough*

itto

he's a complete dumbass, just like any other typical himbo

is the type to plan out a whole party and buy a bunch of gifts only to get your birthday date wrong

it's endearing but it might get annoying at one point

definitely gets into a lot of trouble with city authorities, you'd always have to clean up his mess or bail him out

again, he never has bad intentions, but it's gonna get annoying at some point

gorou

another furry

better get used to him talking ab how amazing kokomi is

also gives off overprotective vibes

doesn't have much time or room for you, at least not until the resistance is over

childe

too busy killing people 😘

depending on who you are, dating a fatui harbinger might cause some problems

unless you're cool w trying to drown a whole nation and commiting genocide idk

even though he comes off as friendly, he probably has also built walls like diluc, they're just not as obvious

somewhere deep down he's scared he might end up harming you or losing you, since he's well aware of his position and what he does

(bro did you see that line in his story quest where he says smth like "if i were to quit being a harbinger I'd love to travel the world w you😭)

ok that's enough childe for today, and yes i will be writing a fanfic later

zhongli

this peepaw is hella old fashioned

being the god of contracts, he's gonna expect 100% loyalty, and might get a wee bit possessive, even if it's not obvious

he's just incredibly good at hiding it

being immortal, he might not even try to date you in the first place bc he knows you can't have a "normal" relationship

he'd rather not have you at all than to watch you grow old while he stays the same, eventually having to sit by your deathbed

oh geez that got dark quickly didn't it

but if he does have you, he's not letting you go, even if you don't want him anymore

will probably try to keep you forever bc of the "contract" y'all made😨

someone write a yandere zhongli fic and send me the link pls 😘😘

kaeya

we've all seen him weasel his way out of doing his work

would try to manipulate you with his smooth talk

although his heart is set in the right direction, much like diluc, he needs to get his shit together before he can carry a healthy relationship

also would probably come home drunk a lot

having a "flirty personality" can often be mistaken for flirting with others

so unless you're a holy nun or smth you're gonna argue ab it with him at some point

xiao

bold of you to assume he's gonna even pay attention to you

as we all know, he comes off as cold and standoffish, even if he might not mean it

he's just carrying way too much on his shoulders to also have a relationship as well

his karmic debt as well as the duty of the sole protector of liyue is going to put a burden on him, and he wouldn't want others to share that burden with him

despite how he feels about you, he's only ever going to see himself as a protector, never your partner

because his sole priority is to keep you safe, and keeping you safe means not getting too close to you

might even go out of his way to be mean to you just to make sure you won't get close to him☹️

but even so, he'll be there when you call, since he is your protector after all

a/n: damn the amount of ff inspo i got just from writing a stupid hc...

[impalementation]

spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 4

part 1: “When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

part 3: “Something effulgent”: Season five and the construction of Spike the romantic

* 

“But I can’t fool myself. Or Spike, for some reason.”: Buffy and Spike as a blended self

Before I get into seasons six and seven, it’s worth asking: why would the show do all of this? Why would it spend all of this time developing a supporting villain and joke id character? Why would it give him a romantic arc? I see people say that the writers only gave Spike these storylines because he was popular or they wanted to keep him around, but even that being the case, there was no need to give him the specific arc that they did. It’s more than possible to read meaning into the story that they chose from the array of possible options. 

Here is the thing about the id. It’s not actually something separate from you. It’s not a ravenous monster you can blame your weaknesses on while remaining pure and dignified. The id is part of you. The immediate and enduring appeal of Spike is, I suspect, strongly influenced by the fact that the things the id wants are so very human and sympathetic. His foibles and mistakes are often painfully familiar, even exaggerated through vampirism as they are. In fact, it’s precisely because Spike is allowed to show a full range of reactions to love, because the writing is under less pressure for him to do the “right” or dignified thing, that he can at times be compelling in ways other characters can’t. If Spike just did nasty things, his appeal wouldn’t be much more complicated than the appeal of Angelus, who people tend to like as a villain or storyline rather than as a relatable character. But Spike doesn’t want to dismember nuns or construct elaborate murder tableaux. He wants familiar things like love, identity and meaning, even if the ways he goes about getting them can reflect people’s worst impulses. 

Which brings us to Buffy, and Buffy’s story about growing up. Buffy is Buffy’s show, which means that every writing choice tends to revolve around her arc in one way or another. And this goes for Spike’s storyline even more than most. In the final three seasons of the show, the writing finally engages with how inextricable the id--and all of its impulsive, inarticulate romantic desires--really is from a person’s self. So instead of keeping Spike at a comfortable distance, both Buffy and the writing begin to take him seriously. They begin to invite him in.

Starting in season five, it’s telling how frequently Buffy herself projects on Spike, rather than just the writing setting them up as mirrors. She tells him that he’s the “only one strong enough” to protect her family, and later assigns Dawn specifically to his protection. In “Spiral” she describes him as “the only one besides me that has any chance of protecting Dawn.” This is a very intimate role that she otherwise only assigns to herself (and which is not really based on pure practicality, considering that she’ll later describe Willow as her “big gun”--yet never gives Willow the task of protecting Dawn). She tells him that he cannot love, which is the thing she fears most about herself. Her protests that Spike is a vampire, and thus cannot express or want human things like love, mirror her lamentations that as the Slayer, she cannot have a normal life.

From the Gilliland Gothic double essay:

More than any of her other lovers, Buffy and Spike overlap one another so often that at times their character arcs become nearly indistinguishable. With Angel, Buffy traveled a parallel path in attempting to master self-control. With Riley, her journey ultimately took her in the opposite direction. With Spike, Buffy’s journey is most closely shadowed, in that her interactions with him in many ways can be seen as metaphors for her feelings about herself.

So now Spike is multiple things. On the one hand, he’s the soulless id he’s been since season two. His vampiric behavior represents a morally uninhibited way of reacting to romantic frustrations, among other things. But on the other hand, his vampirism now also marks him as like Buffy, not merely her opposite.* Nor is he only her mirror in the realm of romantic love. The part of him that is a vampire is the part of him that is supernatural (ie, Romantically larger-than-life), that sets him apart from regular people, and dictates how he can and cannot behave. Just like Buffy’s slayerness. His vampirism is what makes him capable of protecting Dawn, while also making him (supposedly, according to Buffy) incapable of human feeling--again, just like Buffy’s slayerness. Instead of Buffy’s Slayer side being aligned with Angelus, who was an unmitigated evil, it becomes aligned with Spike, who is something more complicated. 

*(Though it must be noted that this was a process that began in season four, with the show aligning Spike with the Scoobies by making him a victim of the Initiative. Spike being supernatural suddenly marks him as non-normative, just like the Scoobies, in contrast to the institutional conformity that the Initiative represents. The evolution towards treating the Romantic supernatural as something positive and associated with identity plays a key role in transitioning the show to the more complicated attitudes of the last three seasons.)

This shift in the show’s attitudes towards the id affects how Spike is used. In “Blood Ties” for example, Spike assists Dawn in breaking into the Magic Shop and in “Forever” he helps Dawn resurrect her and Buffy’s mother. In both cases, Spike could be read as embodying impulsive behavior that Buffy is supposed to be better than. Yet both cases specifically involve Spike helping Dawn, who is repeatedly portrayed as Buffy’s human side. As Buffy says in “The Gift”: “[Dawn]’s more than [my sister]. She’s me. The monks made her out of me. [...] Dawn is a part of me. The only part that I--”. In other words, Buffy’s id becomes closely tied to her humanity, even going so far as to become its safeguard. “Blood Ties” ends with Buffy affirming her connection to Dawn, which Spike’s rule-breaking directly enabled, and “Forever” ends with Buffy acknowledging how desperately she wants her mother back too, and becoming closer to Dawn as a result. (Compare to “Lovers Walk”, where Buffy acknowledging her id results in her breaking away from Angel, not drawing closer to anyone). Or in “Intervention”, Spike building the Buffybot directly parallels Buffy’s own anxieties about what she thinks she should be. She thinks she’s losing her ability to love, and that effusive fakery is her only recourse (as she said in “I Was Made to Love You”: “Maybe I could change. [...] I could spend less time slaying, I could laugh at his jokes. I mean men like that right? The joke laughing at?”), a fear that even has some merit, given that her friends cannot tell her and the bot apart. Instead of Buffy and Spike having separate arcs in the episode, Spike learning the difference between real and fake dovetails with Buffy’s own relationship to her realness and fakeness. It turns out that neither of them want a bot version of Buffy. They want real emotion, things like sacrifice and heartfelt gratitude. If even Buffy’s id would let itself be killed for Dawn, then maybe she has nothing to fear from herself. Maybe there is some beauty in the emotional part of her nature that she thinks she must repress.

In other words, part of the writing (and Buffy) fully engaging with romanticism and the id, means engaging with the ways they can be bad and good. There’s this weird thing that happens with Spike as soon as he falls in love with Buffy, where suddenly his actions are more uncomfortable, and to many, off-putting, because their object is Buffy (instead of another vampire like Harmony or Drusilla, who either enjoy the same vampiric things he does, or the audience might be inclined to see as a moral nonentity regardless). His comic id quality becomes somewhat darker and more serious, almost like the way Angel’s early season two darkness becomes more serious after he loses his soul. But at the same time, Spike’s actions are also more intriguing, sympathetic, and even noble...because their object is Buffy. It makes no sense that a soulless vampire should not only fall in love with the Slayer, but genuinely attempt to transform himself into someone worthy of her love. And yet that’s exactly what Buffy inspires him to do. By loving Buffy Spike’s dual nature, and the dual nature of his romanticism, is thrown into relief: it’s something that can be selfish and creepy, yes, but also something that hints at the idea that real romanticism does exist. Something worth feeling romantically about does exist. Thus the writing can at once criticize, say, the way the chivalric mindset conflates love and suffering, while also suggesting that there are kinds of love it’s worth being transformed by. (Meanwhile, Spike’s fumbling bewilderment over how to love Buffy, and what the rules of loving people correctly even are, creates a human middle ground between monstrousness and heroism). By leaning into the way that Buffy and Spike have been used as mirrors for three seasons, and introducing the mythology-bending idea of Spike being in love with Buffy, the writing is able to fully engage with this complicated, contradictory nature of love and romance.

All of which is to say. Spike becomes a potential love interest, and is given a convoluted inner conflict between monstrousness, humanity and heroism, in precisely the season in which Buffy begins to reckon with her own inner conflict between her darker impulses, her human reality, and her supernatural role. It’s no coincidence that season five opens with Dracula, an icon of romantic vampire mythology, tempting Buffy with darkness and promising her insight into her nature. Or that a vampire kidnaps Dawn--again, her human half--in the next episode. Or that the season’s antagonist is a super-strong blonde woman who wants to destroy Dawn instead of protect her. Or that she says goodbye to Riley, the boyfriend who embodied her hopes for a more normative way of being (notice how Riley is progressively destabilized by everything non-normative about Buffy’s life, and provokes those anxieties Buffy expresses in “I Was Made to Love You”). Over and over in season five, Buffy fears that her Slayer half is cold, destructive, and otherwise dangerous. That these Romantic things like gods and vampires have it in for Buffy’s vulnerable humanity. Yet Buffy’s vampire id simultaneously gives lie to these fears by proving itself capable of heroism and genuine human feeling.

In other words, Spike becomes a potential love interest in a season that treats the Romantic--ie the grand and mythical--as something more than just an attractive lie to be disabused of. Rather, the question that season five seems to posit to me, and which will not be fully answered until the end of season seven, is this: once you do clear away the attractive lies, once you accept the hard realities, once you’ve seen the darkest underbellies, what are the things that are left that are truly grand and beautiful? What are the stories that are really worth telling, and the heroes that are really worth having?

And the show asks and answers these questions on both a very personal level, and a more meta, systemic level. On the personal level, Buffy and Spike are forced to confront their illusions not just about the world, but about themselves. They are made to ask themselves what constitutes a heroic role or a demonic weakness, versus basic, unromantic humanity. And on the meta level, the show asks questions about our expectations for how both love stories and chosen hero stories are supposed to go.

part 5: “Everything used to be so clear”: Season six and the agony of the real

[tempestaurora]

in another time, a gladiator stucky au by @tempestaurora​

image IDs under the cut

IMAGE ID:

FIRST IMAGE: 

i.

 Sunlight dappled across the stone floor, casting cool, dancing shadows in the summer heat. Bucky yawned and stretched, flexing his toes into the sunspots and smiling from the warmth. He watched the newest boy to the school, a scrawny thing called Steve, stand alone in the courtyard.

He tipped his head to the side and called out, “New boy! Over here!”

Steve had straw blonde hair and eyes like the Aegean Sea. He seemed hesitant for a moment before heading over. When he arrived, he looked at Bucky like he might bite, but after sitting, he simply melted into the sunspot Bucky had found.

“You’re pretty small,” Bucky observed. “Your family sell you?”

“What? No, they didn’t.” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed; he seemed insulted by the mere notion. “Your family sell you?”

Bucky shrugged. “Indentured, actually,” he replied. “But they’re practically the same thing. Why are you here, then? You have dreams of being a gladiator?”

Steve scoffed. “No. I don’t. But it was either this or live on the streets.” He paused, twisting his fingers into his tunic. “My mater died, recently. She was all I had.”

Bucky stilled. “Oh,” he said. “Perhaps she is better off now; perhaps she is in the Land of Joy.”

Steve nodded, barely. “There are few places better than the underworld, these days.”

SECOND IMAGE:

ii.

Steve may have been small, but he was fast. He twisted and turned in combat, picked up the skills with ease, and learnt to use his size to his advantage. If he got hit, he was down, so Steve learned to avoid the punches thrown his way.

They trained year-round, through summer heat and winter snow, and soon they grew. Everything Steve learned about being small and fast was discarded when he hit his growth spurt at fourteen, suddenly taller than half his class and finally able to make the attacks, not simply dodge them. He watched Bucky often; the two of them nigh inseparable since his arrival at the school. Bucky was not a golden student, but he was a golden boy; his eyes were like Jupiter’s sky and his hair grew thick and dark in a shaggy mess.

There were few things Steve found himself caring about more than the only boy in all of Italia who knew him, inside and out.

[Beneath is a photo of  the ruins of a temple of Saturn, backlit by the sun. It is ethereal and quiet-looking, with green fields interspersed with crumbled architecture.]

THIRD IMAGE: 

iii.

 They had climbed up onto the roof of the gymnasium to gaze at the sweep of stars painted high above their town.

“Do you think you’ll be up there one day?” Steve whispered in the dark.

“In the sky?”

“The stars,” Steve clarified. “All the great heroes are immortalised in the stars.”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll be a hero – there’s not a drop of godly blood in me. What about you?”

“I don’t want to be a hero,” Steve replied. “I just want to travel; to see all of Italia and beyond. Pompeii and Corinth – maybe even see the Oracle of Delphi, one day.”

Bucky smiled. “I’d like that. I don’t want to be fighting forever.”

“Come with me,” Steve said. “We could go anywhere. We could go everywhere.”

Bucky stared at Steve under the star-lit sky and smiled.

FOURTH IMAGE:

iv.

                                        When they were eighteen, they moved to Rome. The Ludus Magnus gladiator school sat in spitting distance of the coliseum, and this was where they trained. They had long been learning their preferred style of combat – Steve, after shooting up and broadening, fought as a Thracian, with his broad-rimmed helmet, small rounded shield and curved sword. His only armour consisted of thigh-length grieves, while Bucky was granted a chest plate and greaves as a Dimachaerus, dual-wielding two swords.

They fought regularly in practice, but never in the ring drawn into the sand in front of an audience. There was a palpable fear Steve felt at making Bucky bleed. Some nights, he whispered prayers to whatever god might deign to listen – perhaps Mars, for war, or Venus, for love – and pleaded with them to never pit him against Bucky.

[On the right hand side is a close-up of a temple’s columns, with sunlight poking between.]

FIFTH IMAGE: 

v.

 Bucky knew Steve was watching from beyond the Gate of Life as he stepped into the ring for his first gladiatorial combat in the arena. Steve had already won his earlier that day in front of roaring crowds and amused royalty in the Emperor’s box.

Now it was Bucky’s turn, and he twisted his swords in his fingers, facing down his opponent across the ring. Bucky knew their job was to fight – fight and possibly even die – but he also knew his job was to give them all a show.

And Bucky was nothing if not a showman.

In the end, blood stained the sand a vivid red, but Bucky strode towards the Gate of Life, triumphant.

SIXTH IMAGE:

vi.

 There were always popular gladiators, and Steve didn’t know how to react, finding himself to be one of them. Women lined up outside the bathhouses he frequented; shared rumours that dipping their hairpins in his blood might bring them love, that his sweat would work as an aphrodisiac.

“I can see their point,” Bucky whispered one night, his mouth ravenous against Steve’s after a long day of training. Their bodies were always animalistic in these moments, whilst the school was empty and the others were out drinking the night away. They took everything they could get from each other; swallowed each sensation whole.

Steve never wanted these moments to end. He would throw all the glory and money away for more time with Bucky, for more nights like this.

SEVENTH IMAGE: 

vii.

 After amphitheatre fights, admirers and buyers alike would flock to the school where the gladiators lounged on cushions and benches, drinking wine and eating expensive foods. These were the nights Bucky enjoyed the most. No one was allowed to approach unless beckoned by a gladiator, and Bucky would often spend time toying with the admirers, allowing one or two over before sending them away again. Eventually, after the show, he’d slip away into the sleeping quarters or empty storage cupboard, and find Steve waiting there for him.

There was a miles-long list of things Bucky loved about Steve’s body, but number one on the list was how it fit against his own in the dark.

[Cut into the left side is a photo of the Coliseum in Rome.]

EIGHTH IMAGE:

viii.

 A few days before the festival, culminating in three days of games at the coliseum, their master told Steve and Bucky that they were scheduled to fight.

“It’ll be fine,” they told each other in the dark. “The fights rarely end in death. We’re not fighting to kill. We’re fighting to entertain.”

“We’re performers,” Bucky would say. “We’re just there to give them a good time.”

“Don’t act like no one ever dies,” Steve would reply, each and every time. “Don’t act like we haven’t killed our opponents before.” Sometimes, friends would enter the ring with them and never leave it. Sometimes, the audience called for their deaths.

It was blood lust, through and through. The men caught hold of that first splash of red and couldn’t let it go; they had to see more, they had to see death in all its forms. The gladiator could’ve fought bravely, wonderfully, and they might still end up slumped in the sand afterwards.

“Soon,” they would say, “we’ll retire and leave this for good. Soon, we’ll travel the world, like we always planned.” They would whisper lies and truths to each other, desperately tangling them together until they couldn’t tell them apart.

NINTH IMAGE:

ix.

 On the day of the fight, Steve stepped into the ring opposite Bucky and breathed in the cheering crowd; the hot, midday sun. They had kissed in the shadow of the underground corridors, and now faced each other, weapons raised, poised for battle.

It was bloody from the get-go; they were entertainers after all, and the audience was only entertained when they saw the streak of blood dampening the sand. They twisted and turned as if they were dancing, as if there was music playing and this was them, centre stage, having the time of their lives rather than anxiously hoping their blades wouldn’t cut too deep, that the bruises would soon heal.

And then Steve’s sword slashed too harshly at Bucky’s side and he faltered, hissing.

“Bucky—” Steve said, not moving in on the advantage, not moving at all.

Bucky straightened, removing his hand from his side, darkly red. “What are you doing?” Bucky asked, before raising his swords once more. “Fight me.”

“Bucky—”

“Fight me,” Bucky hissed, slamming his swords forward. Steve barely had time to raise his shield. He couldn’t stop staring at the thick blood leaking from Bucky’s ribs.

“No—”

“Steve—”

“No.”

Steve stepped back, feet almost at the ring’s edge. He dropped his shield, his sword to the sand. He held his arms out, palms towards Bucky, and said, “I won’t fight you, Bucky. Not ever again.”

So Bucky took the win, and the crowds jeered at Steve, and the Emperor held his thumb outstretched, unamused by the champion’s surrender.

“You won’t fight me,” Bucky spat, “but you’ll make me kill you instead?”

[Cut into the right hand side is an edited shot of the movie Gladiator; two gladiators rush towards each other to battle, with the crowds filling the stands. Much of the image is in shadow, with streaks of sunlight pouring down from the left side.]

TENTH IMAGE:

x.

 The sand was hot beneath Bucky’s feet; no lazy afternoon shadows in the centre of the amphitheatre. In front of him, Steve knelt facing away, his head tipped low to bare the spot at the top of his spine, all smooth skin tanned and unblemished.

The crowds roared around them and Bucky lifted his sword, pressing the tip at the base of Steve’s neck.

Steve flinched and said, just barely loud enough for Bucky to hear: “Perhaps I’ll go to Elysium… I hear there are few places better to be than the underworld, these days.”

But Bucky knew Steve would not go to Elysium. He was a warrior, but he was not dying righteously, not for fighting well. He was dying for surrendering, for caring about Bucky more than himself.

And Bucky—well he cared for Steve more than himself, too. They were the same that way. They always had been.

So Bucky stepped back, lowering his sword in his hand. He looked up to the Emperor, shadowed in his private box, and shook his head.  

“I won’t kill you, Steve,” he said, and Steve looked around in surprise, like it was really all that out of character. He held out a hand and pulled Steve to his feet, ignoring the roaring of the crowd, the anger that came from mercy.

“They’ll come for us,” Steve said, eyes wary. “They’ll kill us both.”

With one hand, Bucky cupped Steve’s cheek, thumb against his cheekbone, and with the other, he lifted the sword and twisted it. “Let them try,” he said. “But we have plans to travel the world. We’ve got no time for dying, Steve.”

And in the summer heat, they ran for the Gate of Life.

ELEVENTH IMAGE:

[A close up of two marble statues kissing.]

[END OF IMAGE ID]