#I can’t even think of a known subscription I’m not paying for

[juniperhillpatient]

Does anyone have any tips for managing streaming service subscriptions? For a long time now I’ve been subscribing to whatever whenever & unfortunately my tv just lets me, like I just have to talk to it I don’t even have to sign up. And now I just have so ridiculously many subscriptions hurting my finances it’s awful & I still have to pay to rent anything I ever actually wanna watch because the market is spread so fucking thin so it’s not even like it’s worth it. But I have no idea where to start sitting down & unraveling which ones I genuinely use enough to be worth it & which to delete or how many I even really have so I just…. let it build & it’s. Actually really bad lol 🥲

[devildomwriter]

“…Excuse me? You don’t know TSL? And you call yourself a human?! Just how clueless ARE you?! How could you not know?! Just the fact that you don’t know TSL alone is proof that you’ve been wasting your life! So, I’m going to do you a favor and teach you about TSL. Make sure you pay attention! The Tale of the Seven Lords, otherwise known as TSL, is a series of fantasy novels written by Christopher Peugeot. It’s a heroic epic spanning 138 volumes, and it’s the most widely-read fantasy series in the world. There are even theatrical versions, an animated series, and feature films, too. And it’s been translated into a total of 182 different languages. The 1990s theatrical version was an utter disaster, owing to the fact that they added several characters that were NOT present in the original manuscript. At the time I was like, “this producer totally needs to crawl into a hole and die!” But then the 2015 version came out, and it was AMAZING! Better than amazing! If you ask me, it showed that needlessly cramming a female lead in there alongside Henry was a bad idea. That’s not what he needs. What he NEEDS is a friend who really understands him, and the 2015 version proved that.

Also, the most vital element of the story is that each of the Seven lords is so unique. They’re all so interesting in their own peculiar way. That’s what makes TSL so great! The lords are all brothers…the oldest is called the Lord of Corruption. He doesn’t come across as being so bad at first, but he’s always plotting and planning in secret. The second oldest is the Lord of Fools, a scumbag who’ll do anything for money. The third oldest is called the Lord of Shadow, a brooding recluse. The fourth oldest is known as the Lord of Masks. He masquerades as a high-status, upstanding member of society, but underneath it all, he’s an inhumane monster. The fifth oldest, the Lord of Lechery, only ever thinks of sex. The sixth oldest is the Lord of Flies, and he only ever thinks of food. The seventh oldest, called the lord of Emptiness. He’s weird…you never know what’s running through his head! It seems most people like the oldest lord, the lord of corruption, the best. Everyone always talks about how great he is. But not me. I like the third Lord way more. Of course, I like Henry too. He’s the protagonist. He’s almost as great as the third lord. The second Lord is total scum, a hopeless degenerate that leads a life of extravagance and indulgence. He’s always causing trouble for the third lord. He’s got these magical pigs that can give birth to solid gold piglets, and he treasures them above all else. So Henry goes and talks to the pigs, and using his wit and powers of persuasion, he convinces them to leave with him. Then, he leads every last one of them away, and presents them to the third lord as a gift! Wow…I mean, they’re SUCH GOOD FRIENDS you can almost feel it! It’s enough to make you cry! Oh, and then there’s that one really awesome moment when the two of them realize they both like and respect each other, and they high-five! I just LOVE that part, you know? I wish I could have a moment like that. …I wish I could be like the third lord. I may be a recluse like him, but we’re totally different, because he’s got an amazing friend like Henry. Check it out. See that goldfish in the fish tank there? He’s actually named Henry. I love TSL so much that I couldn’t help naming him after the main character. But I cant really high-five a goldfish, can I?

The original author of TSL, Christopher Peugeot, he’s actually a human, you know? That’s why I’m so jealous of you guys. Humans are so lucky, you’ve got subscription services that let you watch your favorite anime anytime, you can go to Akihabara whenever you want… Why do only you guys get to experience all the good stuff? I mean, humans’ whole concept of pleasure originally came from us demons, you know? We gave it to you. So, why can’t we have a little bit of it back now, huh? I mean, I want to be able to go to a Japanese maid café, too. I want to hear the maids welcome me as if I’m the master of the house, and have them draw ketchup hearts on my fried rice omelette, to experience the magic of it all. I want to cosplay as Henry, and then go stand in the center of Akihabara, or maybe that one building in Tokyo that’s shaped like upside-down triangles. And once I’m there, I want to perform Henry’s super-powerful signature finishing move for all to see and say the incantation that goes with it. I want to shout it at the top of my lungs!...Actually you know what? I want to BE Henry.”

— Leviathan’s longest TSL rant (Chapter 1-13)

[shiroselia]

Just because I’ve seen the discussion going around and whenever we talk about if SSO is “worth it at all” in any capacity the cost of it fucking always comes up, and while I obviously have opinions on the larger debate I don’t really care atm to comment on it, but I Will say something about how people seem to think SSO is uniquely utterly completely fucking ridiculously expensive compared to, eh, whatever it is we’re comparing it to actually I’m not entirely sure, but TLDR is:

It isn’t.

SSO is not uniquely expensive. It isn’t even like ridiculously priced either for that matter. And let’s also remember that what is “worth it” and “priced fairly” is incredibly fucking subjective and in a society where costs wildly vary depending on where you’re looking and from who you’re buying, there really is no such thing as a “true fair price” because even though there is “objective” ways to value things, they are usually never followed because that’s not how to capitalism like a true capitalist. And that goes no matter the industry.

But here’s the thing. Video games cost. This has always been the case. Every video game is expensive to some degree to someone. And as I said, expensive is incredibly subjective and contextual, but considering that around 60€ is standard for most games these days (especially if they have the company attachment to “justify” that price), SSO isn’t unique in its pricing. It’s average as hell. “But Manda!” you say “Aren’t every other 60€ or above game made by way better game companies like Nintendo?!” Well. (Actually no but that’s a whole other tangent) That’s partly brand attachment, not quality assurance. See for example the Switch era Pokémon games, that all cost Atleast 60€. They have gotten their quality justifiably dragged through the dirt ever since the Switch started having Pokémon games, and Yet people buy them even though they’re an absolute disgrace of a game development mess to anyone who cares to research that. And yet people buy them. Because it’s a Nintendo game (brand recognition) and a Pokémon game (brand recognition). And also because some people geuinely do not think they’re bad. Even tho they “objectively” fucking suck ass. Yet that’s considered a justifiable price and people buy it. So just because something is priced a certain way doesn’t mean it reflects its quality. Especially not if you can get away with convincing people you’re worth that price for other reasons. So at the Very fucking least it’s not an SSE-made strategy, it’s just capitalism.

Second of all, SSO is an MMO. And anyone who knows anything about MMOs the genre know that SSO is both incredibly unique and also like. hella standard with this. Because here’s the thing. SSE are losing themselves money. And I’ve said this before because it’s true, and I’m literally a case example of that myself. So here’s the thing, MMOs usually work on a subscription payment, that’s standard. You buy a subscription and pay monthly (it’s usually monthly) and you pay a smaller (usually) sum every month. SSO has this too, but where SSO is unique (as in non-standard, not alone) is that they a) have more than just a monthly subscription and b) allow a single purchase subscription. This is what is formally known as “flexible payment options” but really it’s just “When do you wanna pay and for how much?”. But here’s the kicker, this is why you can’t really go “SSO is expensive because of lifetime” because if you’re planning on investing in SSO fulltime then you’re really just buying any other game. And also, Not Everyone Pays For Lifetime. As I said 60€ is average as fuck. But you have Options. You Can pay like. Idonno exactly how much but like 11€ for a month if that’s better. But it’s not worth it in the end, longterm. It’s probably better if you don’t have the funds to make singular high-investment purchases, which some don’t, and for them that’s more worth it. But as I said, it’s more expensive in the long run, and that’s why SSE even Allowing us to buy lifetime is a) a good thing for consumers b) terrible for them. It loses them MAD money. Myself as an example: I’ve played SSO since 2011, I bought lifetime in the summer of 2012. I’m still playing 11 years later. And I haven’t payed a single subscription ever since. My lifetime cost SSE the equivalent of 6 monthly subscriptions. I’ve lost them like. over 100 monthly payments since?? So basically what I’m saying is that for an MMO SSO is actually pretty cheap, especially considering that there’s people who have invested the same amount I’ve invested in SSO in other games, and spent Way more. But I’m not saying SSO is cheap, because a single 60€ purchase *is* too much for some people, but it isn’t uniquely so and there’s no such thing as a real objective not worth it, that’s a personal opinion, not fact.

Really I’m just saying that if you’re gonna use SSO’s price against it you should really be considering why you think that’s a Unique Bad SSO Thing, and also what else you’re willing to shill out for in the same price range. Especially if you’re an older player with a few years on your resume.

[ear-worthy]

Drew Afualo Audiobook & Season Two Of "Two Cool Moms" Podcast Debuts

Drew Afualo Audiobook offering

 Here's an interesting confluence of podcasting and audiobooks.

As of July 30, Loud: Accept Nothing Less Than the Life You Deserve by Drew Afualo is available on Spotify as part of Spotify’s Audiobooks Premium offering, which gives eligible listeners 15 hours of monthly listeners to a catalog of 250,000+ audiobooks as part of their existing Spotify Premium subscription. The audiobook is both read and narrated by Afualo.

Spotify announces: "Host and star of Spotify's The Comment Section, Drew Afualo, presents an empowering, inspiring, patriarchy-smashing first book."

Loud is part manual, part manifesto, and part memoir. It makes it clear that behind her fearsome laugh is a mission and a life philosophy, a strategy for self-confidence from the inside out, and a pathway to once and for all remove men from the center of how women and femmes think about themselves.

Afualo has amassed more than nine million followers across her social platforms. When she first started creating content in 2020, she realized that men on Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, and other apps were creating sexist content aimed at disparaging women, and also containing rampant fatphobia, racism, and other forms of bigotry, with very real-life consequences. It didn’t take long for her to step into the role of unofficial watchdog for misogyny, and her signature laugh is now recognized as a feminist call to arms, a summoning cry to rid the internet (and our hearts, minds, and lives) of “terrible men” and create a space to fight outdated patriarchal ideals.

The line between a podcast and audiobook is already thin. Now, it's blurred even more. That's a good thing, offering listeners of both formats more options.

***************************************************

Two Cool Moms podcast releases second season

Two Cool Moms, the podcast from comedians Joe Gatto (“Impractical Jokers,” “The Misery Index”) and Steve Byrne (“Sullivan & Son”), returned for its second season on August 6. The podcast will join iHeartMedia and Premiere Networks’ Elvis Duran Podcast Network.  

The iHeart elevator pitch for the podcast is: "Comedians Joe Gatto and Steve Byrne have always been the advice givers inside their friend groups, believing it’s the direct result of one thing: cool moms. Throughout their lives, each had a strong, opinionated mother who gave great advice, and the guys believe they have inherited that gene.

In each episode of Two Cool Moms, after discussing whatever is on their minds, Gatto and Byrne get into helping fans who submit their dilemmas by dispensing sage motherly advice—sometimes good, sometimes not, but always entertaining.

“This podcast has been such a fun and exciting way to entertain,” says Gatto. “Steve and I had been looking for a way to work together for years, and to have this show and be part of such an amazing organization at iHeart has me so excited. Not to mention to pay tribute to my mother, who was always in my corner every step of the way.”

“This podcast is such a fun and heartwarming way to explore the many complicated issues that life brings us,” adds Byrne. “I’m proud of the community Joe and I have built over the last year with Two Cool Moms, and to be under the umbrella of iHeart is a truly inspiring opportunity. I can’t wait to hit the airwaves with one of the kindest and funniest talents in comedy.”

Both Gatto and Byrne are on tour throughout the year,

Joe Gatto is a comedian best known from the hit TV shows “Impractical Jokers” and “The Misery Index.” Most recently, he toured for two years with his stand-up solo show “Joe Gatto’s Night of Comedy” in sold out theaters across the United States, Canada and Australia. Prior to that, he has toured with the Jokers live comedy show to sold-out crowds across the world, including legendary arenas, such as Madison Square Garden in New York and the O2 Arena in London.

Gatto is passionate about supporting anti-bullying organizations and animal rescue initiatives. He happily advocates for the “Adopt, Don’t Shop” movement with his non-profit Gatto Pups and Friends, founded in 2022, which operates on Long Island, NY focusing on mainly senior and unwanted dogs.

Stand-up comedy veteran Steve Byrne has done multiple stand-up comedy specials—including his latest, an homage to late-night talk shows streaming now at Amazon Prime called “The Last Late Night”—to “Sullivan & Son,” his own sitcom that aired on TBS for three seasons, to writing/directing his own feature film, the indie success The Opening Act about his early years in stand up, he has always continued to tour and work on new material. He’s currently gearing up to direct his next film about one of the longest losing streaks in sports, and he’s working on the material that will be his seventh stand-up special.

Check out Two Cool Moms. It's one of the better comedy/advice podcasts.

[sunny-reis]

this is really trivial but i honestly can’t be bothered i’m fucking FUMING

duolingo is cool for a free language learning app and all, especially since it’s one of the only apps i’ve used thus far that actually lets you proofread through a course without paying for a subscription but holy fucking shit it’s so bad in terms of flexibility and actual language learning/retention??

like i knew not to expect much with the korean course bc it’s not as popular as the main languages — spanish and french — and is bound to be worse in quality, but that’s a whole other rant bc rn i just tried to test up to level b1 in SPANISH and the test is so stupid ?? it doesn’t even accept synonyms — i used añadir instead of agregar and i failed the stupid fucking test like ?? i expect SO much better for the main fucking language the app is used for like . this is what duolingo is KNOWN for and the stupid level up test isn’t even that good . fucking hell

obviously i can’t rule out the fact that maybe most of these mistakes are just me overestimating my spanish ability — makes sense, obviously i’m not a native speaker but like unless the dictionary’s lying to me i don’t think añadir and agregar are that different?

whatever man at the end of the day it’s so stupid and truly just a first-world problem but like :/ it’s so discouraging to use when it marks the stupidest things as wrong when it makes literally no difference irl. obviously the devs can only do so much, but where the hell is their budget going to? and the shitty part is that 99% of language learning apps are paid or have annoying ads, so duolingo’s one of the only apps available for me rn. it’s also a little bit of a sting bc i’ve been using this app consistently for like…almost five years :/ i almost have a 1600~ day streak and i really don’t wanna lose it, but atp it’s no help whatsoever

[thathusenfulhu]

a sour meal at china garden

what better way to say goodbye to eid than with some sweet and sour chicken? i've even attempted the dish at home and with reasonable success. the trick is in the frying and though i singed my skin with oil, the chicken came out nice and crisp. beginner’s luck. anyway, you can look up a decent recipe on 'the times' if you have a subscription like alibe. or on any decent food blog and i don't mean lonumedhu. jk. so, i'm here at china garden with my friend salman, the fried fish fanatic who tried the rehi aglio olio at scoop with me some years back. for the record, he thought it had great potential but wanted scoop to go easy on the rehi. and when a fanatic says go easy it really ought to count. no matter. salman lets me do the ordering and then we sit back and take in the place. it's spacious and cheerful with plenty of natural light spilling in from the enormous, plant lined windows, brightening up even our expensive seeming booth at the far end of the restaurant. i tell my friend about a comic i read recently (yes, i need pictures now to engage with a narrative that isn't mine). he asked me if it was like boyhood, the linklater film. salman watches a lot of films but i don't think he understands them very much, except maybe on a simple stylistic level. he's worked in graphics for a while but for the most part, his actual work is painfully dull, designing application forms and the like. yet for a little while i thought he might do something exciting, make some actual art. but he's much too happy. in fact, i don’t think i’ve seen him in a bad mood in all the years i’ve known him. the server delicately places two heavy plates before us, jostling me out of my thoughts. have i been ignoring salman to his annoyance? his face, smiling and glued to his phone, says otherwise. he looks up to judge the spread. 'this is enough for FOUR,' he exclaims and begins heaping rice, chicken and sauce onto his plate with great joy. we begin to eat. the batter is soggy, the sauce is cheap, and there's too little of it. the rice is dry basmati, like you might get in a bad hotaa. and there's plenty of it. i'm hungry but i can't move beyond the first few bites. i look at salman and his droopy face catches me by surprise. he looks CRUSHED. when the bill arrives, it's almost 500 rufiyaa! salman's sourness deepens. he pays the entire bill with his card, his face twisted as if he’s trying to contain himself. we exit silently and in haste, like witnesses to something unspeakable. a sullen fog trails us through the streets. salman and i do not speak as we thread our way through galohu, and i begin to question my long-held beliefs about this man. as we pass by the stadium salman suddenly screams: 'SWEET AND SOUR CHICKEN!' ‘MAN?’ i shout. 'sweet and sour CHICKEN.' he yells again, scaring some pedestrians. on my seat, i imagine his normally docile mind, cluttered with the banal junk of his life, suddenly, and in great hunger, confronting that travesty of a meal and the smug little bill at the end. maybe that's all it takes. soon, salman leaves me wordlessly by the intersection near my home. the fog has settled on him again, and i look on as he disappears in a belch of blue smoke around the bend.

[thisislizheather]

Navigating November 2022

Above Photo: How we intend to spend the remaining winter nights

You can find the best tweets of the month over here and here.

TIP: If you don’t pay for a Spotify subscription and you hate ads: just close the app every time an ad starts and then reopen the app and the song will start. How did it take me years to learn this?

So for the first time in nine years, Milk Bar didn’t have their Thanksgiving croissant. Criticisms have been declared and letters have been MAILED. If you think I’m kidding, you really don’t know me.

I rarely go to bars, but I went to Witching Hour in Brooklyn and I just loved the layout and general vibe. Must remember.

I returned to Minetta Tavern and it’s not as great as it used to be! You’re very crammed into each table and the food wasn’t really worth the price anymore. So that’s rough to realize.

Above Photo: Poppies should be worn year round

I also went to Don Angie for the first time and the lasagna is as good as they hype it up to be - same with their incredibly photogenic salad. Make sure to skip the veal tartare and the dessert, though.

I tried the Thanksgiving dumplings from Mimi Cheng’s and they were just all right, which was a little disappointing. Maybe I’m still in mourning for the Milk Bar croissants.

The Starbucks seasonal drinks keep making me sick and I keep returning for more. Someone explain?

Obsessed with this slip I got from Free People.

Made a batch of the insanely good Alison Roman chocolate chip shortbread cookies for the freezer, to make closer to Christmas.

So there was a beautiful, summer-y day in early November so I found an outdoor pool and headed to The Rockaway Hotel. Day passes for their heated pool are $30 all season, which is kind of amazing.

Above Photo: The Rockaway Hotel Pool, November 2022

Above Photo: Tanning in November

Some links I loved:

This great Times piece on all kinds of stuffing.

Some good cookie-making tips from Ina.

I had no idea Coney Island used to have these grand, gorgeous hotels.

How to donate stuff straight from home.

I got a drink at Miracle on 9th Street which was very cute and the drinks were great. If I’d known it was all the way over near Avenue C, I might not have gone but I’m glad I did.

Above Photo: Drinks at Miracle on 9th Street, Manhattan

Some things I watched:

Terrifier: okay I shouldn’t really count this since I saw a total of fifteen minutes before leaving the room. But Nathan continued watching it, so I could hear all the screams and sounds from the bedroom and I still somehow had nightmares?? So no I won’t be watching the sequel.

We saw Halloween Ends on November 1st and it has to be the absolute worst Halloween of the entire franchise. Just unreal. It felt like punishment for trying to watch a horror movie past October 31st, so lesson learned.

The Simpsons Treehouse of Horror XXXIII: it’s a bit depressing to hear how old Marge’s voice has become (this is an awful thought to voice and I apologize), but the Halloween episode was so good this year (especially the last segment).

Falling For Christmas: I am not a Hallmark movie person, but I was bored so I put this on and… I’m still firmly not a Hallmark person. These types of movies aren’t even enjoyably bad, I don’t get it.

A Christmas Story: this was never in my favourites of Christmas movies and it’s a very okay movie. Hundreds of better Christmas movies, though.

Knives Out: it was completely all right, nothing fantastic. I really hated Daniel Craig’s accent and the whole throwing-up-if-lying detail. Just seemed like a bad first screenplay idea.

The Fabelmans: it was good but not as epic as I’d hoped. It was really good at showing the memorable relationships through a child’s eye, especially when a kid starts to see his parents as real people.

The Crown (seasons 1-2): Love it, can’t wait to keep going. John Lithgow is wonderful. Loved this line: “I find, in general, people have very little understanding of who they are. One has to turn a blind eye to so much of oneself in order to get through life.”

Don’t ask me why but I watched some of the last season of The Big Bang Theory and just UGH. What a terrible show that was. The fact that the writers made Penny pregnant in the series finale even though there were countless episodes beforehand where she confidently said she wasn’t going to have children. JUST UGH. Of course it was written by a man.

I’ve already gone a few times, but the Union Square Holiday Market is really great this year.

You’re already Christmas shopping so just a gentle reminder: get the gift receipt.

The snow is coming and you will slip and possibly fall. Act accordingly.

I used to absolutely love Yogi Bear’s All Star Christmas Caper (it came out in 1982) and it absolutely still holds up. Link over here if you have kids and/or love nostalgia.

Some things I’m looking forward to this month: of course I’ll be lighting my bayberry candles on Christmas Eve as well as New Year’s Eve, December is always the most expensive month but it doesn’t have to be, don’t forget to buy your mistletoe, I’ll definitely watch some of these, I’ll absolutely watch The Snowman yet again, I’ll make a family Christmas video again, if you’re in Ontario you kind of have to ice skate on this gorgeous path, and once again I’m begging you not to give lottery tickets as gifts.

If you have any interest in reading what went on in October, come on over here.

[clearlydiamondz]

Your Only Fan

Erik!Stevens x Black!Reader

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

Erik Finds out his best friend slash crush has an only fans. Things go a little right once he finds out.

Warnings: Cursing, SMUT, 18+ Content

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

It was a Friday night, which meant that (Y/N) was getting a chance to see her best friend, Erik. Or E, which she calls him. It’s been a minute since she seen him considering she’s been caught up in her school work and he’s been caught up in whatever he had going on. 

Erik was excited when he saw that she messaged him, asking if he wanted to come over and watch a movie. Instantly he answered. 

E: Awe, lil baby miss me :( lol

(Y/N): how you my best friend and you don’t even come see me no more. i feel neglected.

E: Don’t worry, I’ma be there in an hour..

(Y/N): make it 30?

E: oh u desperate? aight, 30 min it is.

Erik grabbed his belongings, grabbing his adidas bag packing an overnight bag. After getting his phone and charger, he made his way out the door and to his car.

(Y/N) finished up cleaning herself up after doing a session on her Only Fans. After about an hour, she earned about a good 900 alone from just tips and subscriptions. This was one of the good nights. 

She made her way out of her bathroom, go to her little recording area cleaning all the toys and things before Erik got there. She didn’t want her best friend to find out about her dirty little secret. It was something that she wanted to keep buried for as long as she could.

She wasn’t ashamed of being a sex worker, she supported other girls. Spoke very strongly about it online. Even did some work with other girls and guys. She just didn’t want everything to change between her and Erik if he ever found out. 

She was in the kitchen making her famous dip when she heard the door open. She looked up and saw Erik walking in with his things in his hands. “Wassup big head?” he said walking into the apartment as she smile at him.

“Hi E, so I found this perfect movie for us to watch.” she said as he groaned. 

“It better not be no scary movie.” he said as she pouted. 

“Nevermind,..” she mumbled looking down as he laughed. “Lemme put my shit down and Ima come show you some love.” he said as she nodded. There was no question that had (Y/N) had feelings for her best friend. How could she not? He was handsome, kept up with himself, a gentlemen. The way he talked and made her blush. It was hard not to have feelings for this man.  

Erik walked into the room putting the extra clothes in the empty drawer she had for him. As he was putting the clothes inside, she heard his phone going off. He grabbed it seeing that it was one of his friends, Tyrel sending him an iMessage and picture. 

Ty: bro , u know bout this??

Erik confused, opened up the picture to see an Only Fans profile. He was about to question him about it until he saw the profile picture.

“Is that-”

PearlyPerfection

Hi, my name is (Y/N), come visit me on my page to come play with me. 

“What the fuck?” he whispered to himself. It took everything in him not to pull up OnlyFans on his phone, but it was failed. Miserably. He searched her name, sitting on the bed looking at one of the thumbnails on the videos. He saw that it was a price for ten dollars a month for the basic subscription fee. After paying for it, he clicked on the video. 

“Hi daddy...’ she seductively whispered to the camera. She had on a white and black school girl outfit that barely covered her ass and pussy. Her skin was oiled, shining looking like  milk chocolate. “My pussy been so wet just thinking about you. Do you want to see?” she gushed biting her lip.

Erik couldn’t contain the weapon that swing between his legs. Just by the second it was getting harder looking at her. She sat back against the pillows opening her legs to show her wetness. 

Okay.. now I understand why she’s called Pearly Perfection...

If it wasn’t perfect, it was close to. The wetness spread across her outer lips, making her skin gloss. She spread her lips with her fingers, the yellow acrylic really contemplating her skin complexion, letting the wetness get on her fingers as she moved it up and downward to the entrance. 

“Ooh that feels good..” she moaned quietly to herself. She dipped a finger inside, slowly fucking herself with it.  She lifted her leg, slapping her vulva before leaning forward grabbing something behind the camera. She came back into frame with a clear dildo. She grabbed it, looking into the camera before licking the tip of it. She placed her mouth on it before deep throating it, basically shallowing the entire thing.

“Damn-”

“Erik!” he heard from the kitchen. “Everything good?” 

“Uh yeah, I’m coming!” he exclaimed standing up. He exited the tab before placing his phone in his hoodies pocket. He stood up adjusting his issue, before walking out to the kitchen to see her pouring dip chips into the bowl. 

“You good? Look like you seen some shit?” she said chuckling as he shook his head. 

“If only you knew.” he whispered but she heard him. 

“Did you say something?”

“Nah..” he walked into the living room grabbing the remote as she looked at him a bit confused. Damn, I can’t even get a hug.. 

She grabbed the dip and chips walking to the living room, placing it on the coffee table. She walked back grabbing herself a wine cooler and Erik a beer. She walked back walking past him plopping down on the sofa. 

“I hope you found a good movie since you want to watch a damn scary movie.” she joked, all Erik did was just chuckle before going through the list. She looked at Erik waiting for a smart comeback but nothing.  

“Erik... are you okay?” she asked him touching his cheek as he looked at her.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You’re acting strange. If something happened than you can talk to me.” she reassured him as he smiled. Erik turned back to the screen before picking a random action film.

About an hour into the movie, (Y/N) leaned forward grabbing some dip and chips, her shirt was risen up a bit showing her red laced underwear and her back side. It was usual that (Y/N) dressed like that around him, they were comfortable with it. But for known reasons, it had Erik squirming in his seat. She looked back to see why he was moving so much. 

“Erik.. are you sure you’re okay?” she asked him as he nodded. She leaned back and he moved to the opposite side of her. “That’s it.” she grabbed the remote pausing the movie. 

“The hell is wrong with you?” she asked him standing up as he looked up at her. 

“What do you mean? I’m not-”

“Yes you are. You acting like you can’t touch me. You haven’t even eaten my dip and you eat my shit up as soon as it hits the table. I know when there is something wrong with you and there is something bothering you.” she said to him as he sighed scratching the back of his neck. 

“Okay, I’m going to be honest with you but be honest with me.” he said as she nodded. “Do you have an only fans?” The question rightfully was a curve ball but she would never like to Erik. Plus, if he was asking about it most likely he already knew the answer.

“Yes..” she trailed off. “How did you find out?” she asked him. Her heart was beating fast, so loud she could hear it in her own ears. 

“Ty sent me a picture of the profile.” he said as she rolled her eyes. 

“Wow, creepy ass nigga.” she said smacking her teeth. 

“No offense but there are a bunch of creepy ass niggas on Only Fans.” he said sitting up as she sighed. “Why you never told me about this?”

“Look how you’re acting. You can’t even touch me. I don’t want it to change things between us. That’s the last thing that I want to happen. A-And your acting different.” she pouted as he sighed. “Like if you ashamed that you are friends with me just up and say that. Trust me, it’s feels way more better than being- than being treated like I’m dirty or something.” Erik saw her eyes watering, and his entire mood changed. For a split second he forgot he was friends with a water bag.

“Wait, (Y/N) it’s not like that.” he stood up cupping her cheeks in his hands looking at her. “I don’t care what you do , you will always my best friend. I won’t ever look at you differently.” he said to her as she started to sniffle. 

“So why are you acting like this?”

Erik mentally cursed at himself. Now he really is going to have to admit that he watched a video and felt some type of way about it. It was all happening the wrong way. “Before I admit it to you, there is something else I should admit first" he said as she nodded. She sat down as he sat down beside her. 

“First of all, I’m admitting this to you because I’ve let this shit drag on for way to long and I need to just to say it. (Y/N), I’ve always had a thing for you. I’ve always wanted you to be mine. Like in a way where we are more than just bestfriends.” he said as she took it all in. 

"Erik I-"

“Wait, I’m not done yet. Out of curiosity, I went to your profile and I saw one of you’re videos. Ima keep it real, shit was sexy as hell. To the point where I wanna fuck the shit outta you.” he admitted. If there was one thing that she loved about him was how honest he was. 

“Okay, I just want to start off by saying that I have feelings for you too. And I want to be more than just best friends...” she trailed off as he smiled at her. “And another thing, if you have an Only Fans, doesn’t that make you one of those creepy ass niggas that-” her sentence was cut off by him pinching her thigh. “Ow.. that hurt.” she pouted as he smirked at her. There was something in his eyes that she never seen before. She stood up before straddling his lap as his hands gripped her waist. 

“Oh you bold.” he said as she nodded. 

“So tell me, what did you think about my videos?” she whispered in his ear. His eyes fluttered shut as he felt her lips kissing along his neck. 

“They were something.. I- ooh.” he moaned out as she started to whine directly on his dick. She grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head showing his bare chest. She traced her hands up his chest before throwing across his shoulders. 

Erik leaned in, brushing his lips passed hers smirking. With a brief movement her lips connected with his, him immediately dominating hers. He kinda tasted the cherry lip balm that was on her lips, that made her lips smooth and soft. Their tongues traced along each others in a way, like Erik was giving up his dominance. 

She bit her lip, standing up from his lap as she smirked at him. “What you doin/” he asked her. When she didn’t give him an answer, she got on her knees. “(Y/N).’ he said in a warning tone. 

“What’s wrong daddy?” she asked him. The way she said that you would think it was sinful. “I always thought about you fucking my throat, Erik.” she said as she smiled. She pulled the waist band down from his Nike Sweat pants, noticing he was free balling. “Oh you are big...” she said grabbing the base of it. She squeezed it making him jolt his hips forward. 

She kissed the tip, licking along it tasting his pre-cum. She knew Erik always kept up with himself. Drinking water and eating fruit. If he tasted like this now, she wanted to taste him when he bust in her mouth. 

She wrapped her lips around his erection, before going downward, letting her throat relax around him. “Nasty ass bitch..” he grunted thrusting his hips upward. Seeing him like this had her dripping down her thighs. 

She was messy, he liked that. Spit dropped down her chin along pre-cum.

“This is how you do it, huh? Freaky ass...” he said throwing his head back. She smiled at him. She hallowed her cheeks inward to make it tighter as he grunted. He grabbed her lifting him as she pouted. 

“Fuck wrong with you?” he asked her.

“I wanted you to cum in my mouth..” she said as he chuckled. He leaned forward kissing her, there tongues sliding against each other. She was just like him she liked having that shit messy. 

“Let me ride it, daddy..” she whispered to him, stroking his dick as he stood up. They quickly took off all their clothes as she pushed him back on the sofa. She hovered over it and before she could sit on it, he stopped her.

“You still on the pill, right?” he asked her as she nodded. 

“Yeah I am..” she said making him smirk. 

“Thank God, I don’t plan on pulling out.” he said as she bit her lip. She sink herself on it as the both of them whispered out a quiet ‘fuck’. By far, Erik was one of the biggest nigga’s she been with. She had dildos his size probably a little bigger, but it was different because he was fucking her back. 

“Tight ass pussy, this shit wet for me huh?’ he grunted in her ear as she gasped. All she could do was moan. “Answer me..” he started to thrust his hips upward s she moaned out. 

“Fuck, yes daddy.” she gasped out as he smirked, He was hitting a spot that she ain’t even believe was possible to reach. He rotated his hips in a way that made him hit ever inch of her wall. 

“You’re so fucking deep, I feel it in my stomach.” she gasped as he smirked. 

“Yeah take all this big dick. Take it like a big girl. Making a mess all over my shit, I should have you’re nasty ass get down on your knee’s and clean it up.” he taunted her as she fucked him back. She gained her confidence back. 

She purposely made herself tight as he halted his movements. He leaned back grabbing her waist as she smiled. “Does it feel good, daddy?” she asked him as he grunted squeezing his eyes shut. 

“You tryna make me bust this quick? Huh? Get up. I got something for you’re ass.” he said. She lifted herself off as he stood up. He picked her up, walking to her bedroom. He threw her on the bed getting in between her legs. She prepped herself up to see what he was doing as he kissed her up along her thighs. 

He licked along her folds as she let out a huge sigh. He moved his tongue in slow circular motion applying pressure. “Oh shit, just like that.” she gasped. He moved his tongue downward to her entrance. She started to grind herself against his mouth, basically using him. 

“That’s it, use my fucking mouth bitch.” he grunted. His tongue was demonic. She wasn’t expecting to come so close but damn was she getting a run for her money.

“FUCK! ERIK! YOU’RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM...” 

“Who’s stopping you?” he said to her. Within a couple of seconds, she came all over his tongue in lips with a piercing scream. 

“Ass up face down. I’m beating that shit up until I’m done.” he grunted out at her. She turned on her stomach before lifting her ass in the air, creating the perfect arch.

Coming from behind, he entered her nice and slow as he winced. “Shit don’t make no sense. Why you giving me this good pussy, huh?” he said fucking her and she moaned. “I ain’t tell you again, answer me.”

“Because your dick feel so good in my pussy daddy..” she moaned out, gripping the sheets. She started fucking him back at the same pace. “Cum inside me please... I want it so bad.” she moaned as he smiled. 

“Yeah, beg for my shit. Nasty Ass,” he grunted slapping her ass making her scream.. “Pussy making a straight up mess on my dick... shit fucking creaming.” he said looking at his dick. He paused her movement as she gasped at the sudden halt. 

Erik was in a complete shock about what was happening. He was finally digging in her guts and he was about to bust all in her. He pulled out flipping her on her back as he settled in between her lips. 

“Baby...” she moaned out as he smiled. Genuinely smiled. 

“Talk to me..” he whispered kissing her shoulders as she shuttered.

“I’m so close.. please baby.” she whispered back looking into his eyes. The energy in the room instantly shifted. They weren’t fucking any more, they were making love.

He inserted himself inside of her as she let out at a satisfied sigh. He gave her slow strokes as he put his hands behind her to hold himself up. The strokes were slow and deep. 

(Y/N) thought that the only sex she could enjoy was rough and hard, but she was just proven wrong about everything. She was loved this feeling. She didn’t know if it was because it was with Erik, but she needed more of this. 

Erik was in his own world. His main focus was to make her cum. And he was  close to itg just by the feeling. She was gripping him to the point where it was hard for him to move. 

“Loosen up ma, shit tight as hell.” he said chuckling as she moaned. 

“I’m sorry I’m so close..” she said as he nodded. He was close too, and most likely was going to cum before her. 

Within a couple of seconds later he came deep. She felt his heavy load paint her walls, that triggered her own orgasm. She clawed at his back, definitely drawing a bit of blood. He collapsed right beside her as they both looked at each other. 

“You do know that means that you are mine, right?” he said to her as she chuckled looking up at the ceiling. “I’m serious. I’m the only one that need to be getting all in that, you understand me?” he said as she nodded. 

“Loud and clear..” she whispered before tucking herself under the covers. 

“Quick question... why did you start doing it?” he asked as she sighed. 

“Like two years ago, money got real tight. I started doing it, honestly I thought that it was just gonna be something for me to extra money on but than I blew up, and I started to get a lot of money from it. Now, I make enough money on it to pay all my bills, plus more. Including my job down at the restaurant.” she admitted to him. 

“Hm, well I understand..” he said. Their was a sudden silence until he spoke up again. 

“You could join me on my Only Fans. My fans would love seeing you fuck me.” she joked as he raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Shit, I don’t mind.” 

“Wait you serious.” 

“Dead ass.”

The next morning, Erik woke up in the bed, where it was empty. The smell of her cooking made him get out of the bed. After brushing his teeth and what not, he made his way into the kitchen to see she was making homemade pancakes. 

The only thing she had on was one of Erik’s T-Shirts that he left over her the last time he was here, with some a pair of boy shorts. “Good morning.” he said walking behind her wrapping his arms around her waist kissing her neck as she smiled. 

“Good morning to you too.” she placed the batter on the counter, turning around to look at him. 

“Mm, you smell good.” he said. “I’m so glad that I can finally call you mine.” he replied as she smiled at him. Here she was thinking that it was just something said in the moment, but she was glad the feelings were genuinely real.

“I am too..”

[1kook]

hulu & woohoo

summary: But there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Jersey Shore boner. warnings: slight feelings of insecurity, smut; fingering, cunnilingus, cum eating, squirting, handjobs, unprotected, riding, slight praise kink misc: if you’re not a Jersey shore fan honestly GET OUT, mentions of capitalism😡, more kind/understanding kook, basically a “what are we?” fic but silly, irresponsible emailing habits, its so dumb just read wc: 6.3k

[ this is a sequel to netflix & chill !! ]

started off silly then I was like 😳what if we sprinkled in a dilemma™️😳 anyway here’s the kook i imagined for this fic <3

Contrary to popular belief, Jungkook does in fact have his own paid subscription to Netflix. He doesn’t ride on his family account anymore, nor does he swindle his friends into sharing their passwords ‘just once.’ Just like everything else about his mature persona, Jungkook is adamant on paying those ten and something dollars for the streaming platform.

However, his fall into capitalism doesn’t end there.

Among other things, Jungkook also pays for Hulu, Amazon Prime, Disney Plus, HBO, as well as a couple indie stuff you’ve never heard of in all your years. He’s a bigger nerd than you originally thought, with an incessant need to watch every single piece of media available.

Frankly, you don’t see the need to own so many different streaming services, especially not when pirating websites exist and you could so easily watch Jersey Shore for free, if you’re not too concerned with infecting your laptop with every software virus known to humankind. Luckily for you, your app developer boo with his—admittedly tiny—knowledge in computers can iron out those issues for you.

It’s moments like these, Jungkook fiddling with the internal system settings of your laptop to the best of his abilities, that you find yourself grateful for having met Jungkook, and even if it’s been a little over two months now and he still hasn’t popped the question (“Will you be my girlfriend?”), you’d still kiss him silly.

He sighs for the umpteenth time, rubbing his eyes as he stares at the same system warning on the screen. “Babe, just pay the six bucks for Hulu and you can watch all the Jersey Shore episodes you want,” he says, leaning back in his chair as he stares at you from across the dining table.

You scoff, almost scandalized by his suggestion. “You think I have the resources to hand over six bucks every month?” You abandon your homework in front of you, the one you had so dutifully been working on before your computer was flooded with about a thousand Hot Moms in YOUR Area! notifications before abruptly shutting down. “Buddy, that's lunch at Starbucks.”

Jungkook clicks around a few more times, round glasses sliding down his nose which he will occasionally scrunch up to save from falling. “First of all, lunch at Starbucks sounds sad,” he retorts, and you kick his shin from beneath the table. He doesn’t even flinch, the damn muscle bunny, instead leveling you with an unimpressed glare. “Second of all, I told you I’d give you my passwords but you said—“

“No!” You exclaim.

Call it what you want, but that rose-tinted image of Jungkook being a saint in this world, too sweet and naive for his own good, never faded. Your brain saw it that night of your first date and ran with it, never mind the fact he was quite the devious scoundrel, gentlemanly perception be damned the way he’d tug at your skirts and your hair in public like you were on the playground, always teasing, always playing with you, so discreetly no one would ever see it coming from him, of all people. Your brain saw all that too, the little childish streak he’d get sometimes, but your heart stomped it out, wrapped up in the image of Jungkook being your golden boy, and you couldn’t possibly take advantage of such an angel’s kindness to mooch off his streaming services.

From across the table, Jungkook gives you a pointed look, as if he knows you’re trapped in that brain of yours again. Unlike you, Jungkook was easily able to pick apart your true personality, and the way the devil on your shoulder spoke more often than not. He knew you were prone to outrageous schemes and evil villain monologues, and he still kept you around. Let you linger around his home in his big shirts and eat his healthy breakfasts with him. Jungkook liked you, as silly and mean as you were, and he was very obvious about it.

“The password—“

“Is none of my business,” you halt him with a tone of finality in your voice, gesturing for him to slide the beat up laptop back over. Jungkook sighs, runs a hand over his face like you’ve worn him out, but relents.

Taking it with a triumphant grin, you settle back into your seat, nudge his foot with yours beneath the table. Jungkook nudges you back, the adorable fuzzy socks he was wearing making you giggle, a sound that finally brings a smile to his face. “Y’know…” he says, “if you’re gonna be the Disney villain you claim to be, you might as well just take all my passwords.”

Rolling your eyes, you focus your attention back on copying some notes for class, falling back into the rhythm of glancing at the screen and back at your notebook. “You’re cute,” you mindlessly hum, taking great pleasure in the rosy hue that rises to his cheeks, one he tries to hide by coughing into his elbow. You set your pencil down, watch him squirm under your gaze like he always does, blushy and shy like he hadn’t had you twisted like a pretzel beneath him an hour ago. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, reaching over to place your hand over his, where it’s idly tapping over some textbook he’s got out. Immediately, he turns it over, squeezes your palm in his. “I don’t mind getting thirty two viruses an hour.”

The reluctant worry in his gaze remains, sweet puppy eyes flickering over you as if trying to catch a hint of a lie. He was so adorable, you could kiss him silly. Finally, Jungkook gives in, though he does so with a lot of effort; letting you fool around on pirating websites truly was the bane of his existence. “Just bring it to me if it breaks down again, okay?” He settles, and you nod.

To your surprise, he brings your hand up and presses a kiss to the back of your knuckles, holds your gaze like he absolutely adores you.

He was so handsome, so caring, and so blatantly not yours.

—

“Not heading to your boyfriend's house today?” Doyeon asks the second she steps into your shared dorm, fighting with the boots on her feet. In the last two months of knowing Jungkook (everybody say thank you, Kim Namjoon), it’s become rare to see you home for more than two nights in a row. Jungkook was irresistible in more ways than you could count. If you weren’t falling into bed with him, you were smothering his cute face on the couch, or hovering behind him in the kitchen.

“Not my boyfriend,” you deny, huffy, and she knows how you feel about the subject, which is why she only prods more.

“Wow,” Doyeon drawls, glancing over your shoulder where you’ve got Jersey Shore playing on one half of the screen, an essay document on the other. “The man you see every other night, who looks and fucks like a god, who buys you a shit ton of presents, and treats you like you’re his world… is not your boyfriend?”

On screen, the toxic couple of the century is engaged in another screaming match, the reality tv show quickly spiraling as dramatic music takes over the speakers.

You scratch the back of your head. “Yeah. Well.”

Doyeon almost combusts at your response, flinging herself onto her twin bed in disgust. “He is a fool, a court jester if you will,” she seethes. “You're the hottest babe in a fifteen mile radius chasing after him and he still hasn’t asked you?”

Deciding you can’t comfortably watch the toxicity on screen with Doyeon talking so loudly, you slam down on the spacebar to pause the show. The fickity website, set out to ruin you since you first discovered it a few weeks ago, crashes. It takes your half-assed essay with it as the whole computer suddenly blacks out. You sigh.

“And on top of that,” she’s still going, “you’re hot and evil. Like bro. Come on.”

“Yes, I’m sure every man dreams of getting with an evil seductress,” you sarcastically reply, reaching for your phone to text Jungkook for help, when you suddenly remember why exactly you’re not with him right now. He’d gone to Busan to visit his family this weekend, a quick trip, he’d told you with his tongue down your throat. You shiver at the memory.

You still really want to watch Jersey Shore, though. Almost desperately. It’d been a long time since you watched it, and you honestly forgot the pivotal role that and a bunch of other reality shows had played in shaping you into the conniving woman you were today.

Doyeon seems about done with her tirade against Jeon Jungkook, dramatically storming into the en-suite bathroom you share with your neighbors.

Tapping your phone against your lip, you carefully consider your options. You could just boot your laptop back up, pray for the best and move on. But the 240p episodes were doing a number on your eyes, and for a moment you considered handing over those six bucks to pay for a Hulu membership.

It’s short-lived, and eventually you settle on calling Jungkook.

He answers on the fourth ring, and wherever he is is insanely loud. There’s voices shouting, lots of bustling, until eventually a door closes and Jungkook’s silky voice oozes through the speaker. “Baby? What’s up?”

“Hi,” you respond, feel something disgustingly sweet settle in your chest. “Is this a bad time?” You ask tentatively.

Jungkook laughs, low and raspy. “No,” he tells you, and you hear the smile in his voice. “Never a bad time for you.”

You could lunge through the screen right now, rain kisses down on his face until he’s giggling, telling you it’s too much. The feeling in your chest tightens, and you almost blurt out something embarrassingly cheesy, but a voice in the background calls for him, and Jungkook’s voice responds, “In a sec, mom. I’m talking to a friend right now.”

The glass roof shatters.

Even though you’d just told Doyeon you two weren’t a thing, despite all the coupley things you did, something about Jungkook telling his mom you’re just a friend isn't right. You frown, listen as his mother, a voice just as delicate as his, asks him to grab something from inside. With each second that ticks by, the discomfort you feel grows tenfold, until you’re barely holding yourself together.

Eventually, Jungkook returns. “So what’s up?” He asks again, and you remember what you initially called for. Putting on your big girl pants, you brush your uncalled for insecurities to the side, making sure he can’t detect anything in your tone.

“Your Hulu password. Can I have it?” You say, realize how robotical your voice sounds and belatedly throw in a, “please.”

Jungkook laughs, loud and boyish. The sound almost makes you melt, makes you fall for him even more. The niggling doubt in the back of your head still rings, but it’s temporarily washed away by the man on the phone. “Finally giving in?” He chuckles, doesn’t give you time to respond. “Sure, babe. I’ll text you the login stuff.” You hum, twirl your pencil idly as Jungkook announces he has to go, something about his family waiting on him. You bid him adieu, send him a halfhearted kiss over the phone, and only hope he feels half as content as you do when he does the same for you.

You don’t want to be dramatic about it. In your heart of hearts, you know Jungkook is just more reserved when it comes to dating. He wants to be one hundred percent sure your heart is in the same game as his, tied to the same rules, and putting in the same effort. But there’s a seed of insecurity that plants itself in the back of your head, tells you the reason Jungkook hasn’t asked you out is simply because you’re not good enough.

Jungkook was as rich as they come—not in money, but in personality. (Well, with the way he was advancing through his career, you get the sense he’ll be rich rich in the next few years too.) He had a huge heart, so caring and supportive of those around him, and an even bigger moral compass—hence the ridiculous amounts of streaming services he paid for—and you strongly believed no one was worthy of standing beside someone as wonderful as him.

Sadly, that meant you too.

Jungkook was your dream lover, and with every passing day, you were beginning to think you weren’t his. It had been two months since your first date, and realistically speaking, you know it’s not weird for people to casually date for such a time. It hadn’t been that long, truthfully, but the way you and Jungkook had clicked made it seem so.

He treated you like a queen, pleased your heart and body like no other. None of what Doyeon said earlier was a fib—he picked you up from school in that classy Benz, let you stay the night and sleep in his clothes, ate you out in the morning like you were his breakfast. You acted like you were in a relationship, but what exactly were the two of you?

Were Jungkook’s feelings even at the same level as yours?

Some days, you couldn’t fathom the idea of being so far away from him, texting him incessantly to feel a semblance of his presence. There was always a metaphorical elephant sitting on your chest, the weight of your unlabeled relationship, your insecurities, waiting for him to finally cut you off, decide you’re not what he wants. You wonder sometimes if he sees you out of convenience, but you always remind yourself Jungkook was too emotional and soft to drag someone around like that. (Or was he?)

Realizing how deep you’ve fallen into your spiraling pit of uncertainty, you shake yourself of those thoughts, mindlessly typing in the Hulu login credentials Jungkook texts you.

—

You’re in the student center when Jungkook comes home, laptop and books spread out over a circle table to stop anyone else from coming up to you. You’ve got your headphones in, the background sounds of late 2000’s club music from a Jersey Shore episode drifting through your ears.

A hand suddenly grabs onto your shoulder, and you send nearly half the table’s contents onto the floor when you screech, leg blindly kicking the table. “Woah, woah,” Jungkook calms, pulling out an earbud for you, and the sight of his face makes you relax again, before you’re striking his chest.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” you warn, shooting daggers at him as he pulls a chair close to you, plopping down beside you. Jungkook laughs, kisses your temple.

“You doing okay, beautiful?” He inquires, and your heartbeat, which had only just begun to settle from your fright, lurches at the hooded gaze he sends you.

You nod, unconsciously lean closer to him. Jungkook smiles, cheeks pulled tight when you plant a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Glad to hear it,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to keep you close.

You never thought you’d be one of those people. Y’know, the couple shoving PDA down everyone’s throats in a very crowded place. But you can’t help it with Jungkook, gaze honed in on the mole beneath his lip as he recounts his trip to his family’s place. His hair is fluffy again, parted a little to the side to show his forehead. He’s got that big dark hoodie on, the one you love. Your love-addled brain thinks, I could give you a family, but you quickly shut that thought down.

There was no need to think as much for a man who wasn’t even your boyfriend.

Before you can spiral, there’s a set of fingers brushing over your neck, almost casually. You return your attention to Jungkook, watch him leisurely gaze over the bustling students around you. “Missed you,” he says quietly, like he doesn’t want anyone to hear. Hell, if your eyes hadn’t been trained on his face, you don’t think you would’ve.

Finally, he glances back at you. He says nothing, his eyes dipping down to your mouth. He leans forward, presses a smooch to your lips, only to smile at you afterward. “Come over?”

The difference between you and Jungkook is that you were very obviously, outwardly evil. You were not embarrassed to admit you were scheming, or that you had ulterior motives behind doing something. You used what you had to your advantage, mastered all types of expressions to get what you wanted.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was a subtle schemer. In fact, he was so goddamn subtle, you doubt he even knew he was a schemer.

But he definitely was one, and your experiences with him were enough to convince you so. There were times he’d stare at you longingly, like a puppy, until you’d do something for him. Times he’d use his demure face to lure you into going to the hardware store for him, into watching some boring documentary with him. Times, like now, where his voice was a little too smooth and low to be considered his normal pitch, clouded gaze sweeping over your features until you understood what he meant by come over.

Numbly, you nod, watch the quirk of his lips as he kisses you once more before gathering your things for you.

The car ride passes by in a flash, Jungkook’s hand on your knee, your head in the clouds. You imagine how easy it would be to just lean over right here, tug him out of his sweats and get that super suck 5000 on him. But Jungkook’s shy, the devil on your shoulder croons, he’d like it better in the backseat, where no one can see.

Your bag hasn’t even touched the floor yet when he pushes you against the door of his house, shoes and coats half off as he envelopes your lips with his.

His hands are warm, cupping your neck to guide you through the kiss, blindly pulling you down the hall. You feel him falter by the stairs, torn between just throwing you on the couch and ravishing you there or making the trip upstairs to the comfort of his bed. You reach up, run your fingers through his hair. “Wherever you want, baby,” you reassure him, and become consumed with glee when his hands grab into the backs of your thighs, hitch you into his arms as he rushes the two of you up the stairs.

The bed is as fluffy as you remember it, and you bounce up towards the pillows after he drops you on the end. He tugs his shirt over his head, chocolate strands coming out a mess afterwards, before crawling up your body. Jungkook’s hands are incessant, grabbing onto every inch of you he possibly can. He kisses up your tummy, pushing your shirt up as he goes, hikes it over the swell of your breasts to gently fondle them in his palms.

When he’s just about suffocated himself between them, he pops back out, catches your gaze with a twinkle in his. “Hi,” you squeak, and Jungkook grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he returns, let’s your tongue slide into his mouth, sucks on the appendage teasingly. You whimper, and Jungkook releases. “You miss me?” He asks, and if you hadn’t been well-versed in the art of Jungkook’s sexy talk, you wouldn’t have noticed the tingle of nervousness that curls around the question.

You placate him, “always.”

It’s all Jungkook needs as he wiggles you out of your clothes, shucks them off somewhere to the side. His hands trail over your body, massage your breasts and pinch the nipples. You sigh, melt into the sheets as he runs his palms over you. He rolls you over, pulls your hips up and carefully pushes your face into the mattress, pushing your hair to the side to peck your neck when he leans over.

“So soft for me, sweetheart,” he purrs, hands slithering around your waist, down your abdomen until the tip of his pointer finger is idly swirling over your clit.

You whine, clutch the comforter beneath you at the touch. “Oh, fuck,” you groan, push your hips back against him. He’s still got his sweats on, and you want desperately to turn around and rip them off of him, feel the press of his cock against your ass.

As if sensing your urgency, Jungkook calms you with kisses trailing over your spine, hot breath fanning over your neck. His fingers slow, just barely grazing over your clit. “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” He asks, and you struggle to choke out a response when he presses his finger down against you.

“No,” you eventually gasp, jolt when his hand reaches down, glides through the swollen folds of your cunt.

As if content with your response, Jungkook lets his fingers caress you for a few beats, laps against the side of your neck as you whimper, beg him to continue. When he does, it’s with no ounce of his usual gentle attitude, two fingers shoving forcefully past the tight clench of your pussy lips, deep into your cunt. You shudder, gasping into the sheets.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises, flutters a kiss right below your ear. Your neurons are working overtime, unsure of what to do as he explores your cunt, fingers dragging against your walls. You want to close your eyes, bask in his touches, but every brush of his fingers has them rolling back, fluttering open. “This pussy is mine, isn’t it?”

His fingers curl, briefly brushing over your soft spot. But it’s enough to make you cry out, pant against the sheets. “Yours,” you choke, push back against him like he’ll do it again.

A thumb circles your clit, and the tight feeling in your belly snaps, has you crying out his name as your first orgasm in a few days washes over you. “Jungkook,” you whimper, nearly sob when his hands pull away, letting you flop down onto the mattress in a boneless heap. Your thighs feel sticky, and you watch blearily as Jungkook hovers behind you.

“So quickly?” He chuckles, turning you back over. He spreads your legs, exposing your pussy to the cool air of the room, and you shiver. A lone finger drags over your cunt, collecting the glossy substance on the tip, before Jungkook is sucking it into his mouth.

He had an affinity for this kind of stuff, you’ve learned. Like he genuinely thought your cum was the most delicious thing in the entire world. That being said, you’re not surprised when he ducks down, pushes your legs to your chest as he begins devouring your pussy.

“Slow down,” you gasp, hand curling in his hair as he spares you not, sensitivity be damned. He was gonna lick you clean. He groans, tongue shoved into your cunt, cute nose brushing against your clit. “Kook,” you warn, though it’s more of a shuddered cry. “I-I’ll come again.”

He pulls off with a wet smack, licks over his tongue as he narrows you with a daring glare. Gone was your sweet Jungkook, replaced with this cum-eating heathen who only purrs, “in my mouth” at your warning.

You scream when the second orgasm hits you, pushing his face against your cunt as his tongue continues, lapping at your folds and your hole as a gush of wetness spurts out of you. For a second, your vision pales, soundless cries caught in your throat as you come all over his face. When you touch down on earth again, your body feels featherlight.

Jungkook is watching you from between your thighs, his face, hair, and chest glistening.  “Oh fuck,” he gasps, shit-eating grin slowly consuming his features. “Did you just.”

You groan, cover your face with your palms as Jungkook settles over you, beaming excitedly at your newest ability. “No,” you whine, pushing him away from where he’s basically glued to your cheek. “That’s so weird.”

He laughs, cute and airy. “Fuck, sweetheart, you squirted all over me,” he sighs, cuddles against you, and you wrap your arms around him only to hide your face in his shoulder, also glistening with your pleasure. He shifts closer, and the hard press of his cock rubs along the inside of your thigh.

“Can we take a break?” You murmur quietly, hesitantly. “I can’t feel my legs.” Jungkook nods, presses a kiss to your temple as he gets off the bed, tossing his t-shirt over to you. He stumbles towards the en-suite, comes back with a dry face and chest; his hair is still damp. He tugs the sheets out from under you, cuddles close. He’s got the two of you wrapped up in no time, your head cradled against his shoulder as he reaches out blindly for the tablet he keeps on the side of his bed, the Hulu app already open.

“Any requests?” He hums, scrolling through the multitude of movies and shows. You wiggle closer, stop his finger when he returns to the home page, and Jersey Shore is the first thing to appear. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s a good show!” You defend, click on it before he can argue. You press closer, throw a leg over his waist where you can feel his still rock hard member hiding beneath his sweats. Poor guy, you think, he must be suffering. But you have to rest for a moment if you wanna ride the shit out of him and knock him breathless like you’d planned.

Jungkook doesn’t comment on the erection he’s sporting, instead choosing to criticize everything wrong with Jersey Shore. You’re not surprised. He’s an avid film nerd, obsessed with ‘real’ storylines, not whatever reality tv shows were.

You’ve seen this episode about a hundred times, so you don’t really mind that he completely ruins it for you with his nitpicking. It’s cute, listening to him ramble about television integrity while you listen to the subtle thudding of his heart beneath your ear.

He’s on his fifth slandering of DJ Pauly D when you decide you’ve had enough, muscles in your legs feeling rejuvenated as you wiggle into his lap, toss the tablet off to the side as you straddle him. “That show makes you hard?” You tease, let your sensitive folds settle over the bulge in his pants.

Jungkook combusts, cheeks flushing at your jab. “No,” he huffs, “my pretty girlfriend’s boobs pressed up against me does.”

You short circuit.

“Huh?” You blurt dumbly. Jungkook rolls his eyes, too concerned with guiding your hips over his crotch to realize you’re having a complete meltdown in your head. An airy moan leaves his mouth, head lolling back against the pillows, when he moves you just right, grinds against you perfectly. But there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Jersey Shore boner. “Kook,” you say, cup his face in your palms to force him to look you in the eye.

Jungkook huffs, pointedly looking down at where you sit on him, “babe, gonna need you to—“

“What did you say?” You interrogate, press your foreheads together until he has no choice but to look at you.

Annoyed with your act, he groans. “Babe, your hips,” he urges, almost desperately.

“No,” you retort, “not until you say it again.”

“Say what again?” He cries, lips twitching in irritation, and you’re about two seconds from behind shoved into the mattress, pounded into from behind like he’d done the last time you teased him a little too much.

“That I’m your girlfriend!” You exclaim, heart hammering in your ears.

Jungkook seems to finally halt at that. “Oh,” he responds, leaning back to scan over your expression. “You are?” He says, unsure of what point you’re trying to make.

Your brain fizzes at the news. “Since when?” You cry, suddenly feeling dumb for all the time you spent moping over this perfect boy you thought didn’t want you. “You never asked!”

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed stare, reaches over for the iPad you tossed to the side, some dramatic fight scene on a boardwalk taking place on screen. You wanna scream. Why is he so concerned with Jersey Shore now of all times?

Before you can rain down your displeasure on him, he’s turning it around and showing you a bookmarked email.

It’s from you, apparently, sent a few weeks back at exactly two in the morning. You glance at the date received. It’s from Doyeon’s half birthday, when the two of you had drunk yourselves silly on wine. The title is some mix of dashes and exclamation points, but that’s irrelevant when the contents of the email come to view, some stupid slur of beeee myyy boyfrienderdd????? ;))((;;; that has your jaw dropping in mortification.

You glance back at Jungkook, who seems just as confused as you. “What the hell?” You shriek, snatch the tablet from his hand to see that not only was it a single email, but a thread of emails all asking the same question—there’s even a three stanza sonnet detailing your love for the mole on the side of his neck. You could die. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?! I was so drunk— how could you even take me seriously?”

Jungkook shrugs, almost amused now as he watches you scroll through the twenty emails you sent him. “The next day you told me you really liked me over lunch, so I didn’t mind. Besides,  drunk words are sober thoughts, y’know.”

You stare in disbelief. “You told your mom I was your friend,” you whisper.

The blood rises to his cheeks quickly. “Babe,” he sputters. “I’m not exactly introducing her to every girl I date after three weeks.”

It makes sense, and you hate how much it does so. Pursing your lips, you look away, focus on the bedside table and hope he doesn’t see the tears that threaten to spew out of your eyes. He does, he always does. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He hums, sits up to pull you into his arms. One hand brushes over the back of your head, gently. Softly. “Did that upset you?”

You shake your head no, can’t help the ugly Kim Kardashian sob that rips itself from your throat. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you sniffle, covering your face with the iPad when he tries to duck closer and get a look at you. “Because it’s been two months.”

Jungkook shushes you, hugs you close to his chest as you cry like a baby over some apparently unjustifiable doubts. “That big brain of yours,” he sighs, kisses the frown of your head. “Too busy being evil to be logical.” You whine in protest, and Jungkook chuckles, carefully laying back with you clinging to his chest.

He lets you cry it out, palms rubbing over your back, listens to the annoying Jersey Shore opening song playing when the episode ends. When you’re done, you sit up, try to pretend your eyes aren’t swollen and puffy. Jungkook smiles. “All good?”

You might love him.

“I’m gonna ride you,” you announce, and he chokes in surprise, and before he can try to convince you it’s okay, you’re wrestling his sweats and boxers off, taking his half hard cock into your hand. Jungkook flounders, tries to calm you down, but you’re on a mission, working your hand over him until he’s fattening in your hold, melting into the pillows.

“Baby,” he grunts, rolling his hips into your palm. You lean over, pucker your lips and let a thick drop of saliva fall onto the tip of his cock. It trickles over your fingers, makes it easier to run your hands over him. Jungkook groans, reaches down to cup his hand over yours, urging you to squeeze tighter.

When he’s finally as hard as you want him, tip engorged and angry, you sit up, place your palms on his chest as you scoot over him. Jungkook watches you with dark eyes, skin flushed as you line him up. His hands reach for your hips to steady you, tiny gasps falling from his lips at the first prod against your folds. You’re wet from watching him squirm beneath you, from feeling the heavy weight of his cock in your hand, and you hope he feels how much he excites you.

“That’s it,” he croons as you slowly sink down on him, whimpers catching in your throat from the stretch. “That’s my girl.”

Jungkook is purposeful with his words, smiles at you when the muscles in your thighs jolt at the term. When you’re seated to the hilt, folds brushing against his pelvis, Jungkook ruts experimentally. “Fuck,” he chokes breathlessly.

You let your body adjust, spine tingling with every subtle shift from the man beneath you, still so sensitive from your two orgasms from before. Jungkook waits, even though you know all he wants to do right now is fuck up into you like a madman.

When you’re relaxed enough, you begin to move, pushing yourself on your knees slowly, hissing at the drag of his cock against your folds. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, fingernails scratching against where you’ve got them on his chest still. Jungkook grips your hips tightly, and you unconsciously reach for his forearms to steady yourself instead.

“There you go,” he purrs as you slowly pick up the pace, cock sliding inside of you rougher, faster. You know it’s mostly him, muscles in his arms flexing as he moves you up and down, but you don’t care—it feels so good, the upward curve of his cock brushing against your soft spot with each drop of your hips.

He holds you down on one thrust, grinds you over his cock until your clit is rubbing against him roughly, and you cry out his name. You want to kiss him, so very badly, but your position makes it hard. Besides, the sweat beginning to pool in the deep of his collarbones hinted at his oncoming orgasm.

Still, you can’t help the way your eyes instinctively go to trace over his mouth, pouty lips pushed out even more in exertion, teeth grinding together every time your pussy swallows him anew. “Kook,” you mewl, hips bucking forward.

He hums, plants his feet firmly on the mattress as he begins fucking into you. “What is it?” He grunts, pistons into your dripping cunt as you whimper, pleasure crawling up and down your spine. “My pretty girl needs something?”

You wail, nod your head as he continues fucking, ramming his cock into your quivering hole, precum dripping over him. “Yours,” you gasp, mind stuck on what he’d said earlier. “‘M all yours,” you sob, body finally giving out, and you barely catch yourself from falling into him with a palm pressed flatly against his chest.

Jungkook smirks, bucks into you brutally, like he wants you to fall into a boneless heap on top of him. “Yeah, you are,” he groans, as you finally give in, lips brushing against his ear when you flop down on him. “My pretty girl,” he huffs, and you nod, muscles pulled taut as your orgasm begins looming over you. “So cute and mean,” he rambles, lips pressed to your temple. His hips are beginning to lose their rhythm, thrusts growing stilted as he chases his high. “But you know what?” He murmurs, and you whimper. “I like her just like that.”

If his words don’t knock the air out of your lungs, your orgasm surely does. It makes you shudder, the way his hands run over your body, cock ruts into your heat, and you almost cry when the pleasure gets a hold of you. Your muscles tighten, and then loosen, melting into his chest. You’re trembling in his arms, like a leaf holding onto a branch for dear life, choked gasps of his name muffled against his neck.

Jungkook pistons into you, rounds the final corner in his race to orgasm, and eventually spurts his hot cum into you, coats your walls as another reminder that you’re his. He’s a silent orgasmer, sounds catching in his throat as his body twitches beneath you, silent even afterwards as he regains his senses.

A few moments later, you’re shifting out of his hold, pushing yourself onto your elbows to glance down at him. Jungkook’s eyes are shut, but, as if sensing you’re looking at him, he flutters them open, chocolate irises softening at the sight of you.

“Holy shit,” he groans, rolls you off of him carefully. His hand brushes over your thigh, like he’s contemplating licking you clean again, but you stop him with a pointed raise of your brows. “Fine. Pass me the tablet.”

You do, and it’s almost unnerving how easily the two of you slip back into comfort, Jungkook changing into some shorts and handing you your discarded panties, before climbing into bed to watch Jersey Shore. You’ve missed about an entire hour-long episode, so you end up rewinding until the point you last saw.

“You and your Netflix and chilling,” Jungkook snorts, head nestled against your breasts. You roll your eyes.

“This is Hulu,” you point out.

“Oh yeah,” he hums, snuggles closer. His body feels so nice and warm over yours, hands wrapped around you like a lifeline. You end up positioning the tablet off by your hip, supported by a pillow so the two of you can watch properly.

You’re still processing your new title, your new boyfriend, when he perks his head up suddenly, solemn gaze catching yours.

“Hulu and Woohoo,” he says, ever so seriously, and you understand why Doyeon thinks he’s a fool.

[ part three ; imax & climax ]

[sorceressferaly]

Big Star Stable Reveal Spoilers

Right, listen up here, Starfam, because this is TOP SECRET. While I try to remain incognito over here on tumblr and only a select few know of my Star Stable affiliation, I have been able to uncover hints for the next big feature for Star Stable! It’s very exciting and I just can’t keep it a secret, so I’ll detail it all in this post for those who dare click it!

As we know, the subscription model is kind of outdated as a way for games-as-service to gain revenue, and most players of Star Stable choose the pay-once model anyway. Now, going full free-to-play isn’t really on the map, but meanwhile it’s just not too exciting to buy a horse as it is right now.

Pay star coins to get a whole horse? Where’s the surprise?! The excitement?!

Instead, we’re going to take a leaf out of the book of the industry leaders and introduce the next big thing in revenue and horse purchasing. I think it’s going to be very exciting for everyone involved.

Introducing: The Horse Loot Box

It even comes with its own Pandoric glow! We’re quite proud of the production value on this one!

The horse loot box will entirely replace the current, outdated, boring horse buying model. One lootbox will be far cheaper than buying a horse and will also have the chance to drop highly desired items such as horse food and picnic baskets!

Of course, it would be a bit much to give an entire horse in a loot box as some random drop – how would that power the gambling-induced dopamine, but naturally our devilishly clever designers found a solution to that as well!

When you think about it, isn’t a horse really four legs, a tail, a torso, and a head attached? Right! So to further emphasize the collection aspect, the lootboxes will not drop an entire horse, but rather pieces of a horse!

Through the purchase of horse loot boxes, you will be able to collect each breed’s every variation’s parts that you can later puzzle together in a user interface to put them together into one whole horse!

While the drop rates for horse parts are rather lower than items like feed, barbeque kits, effect consumables, the drop rate of a horse part will increase with .1% for each loot box that doesn’t end up giving you a horse part.

Naturally, once you have all seven parts of the same horse of the same variation you can combine them into one horse. The parts will have to match, of course, to make an actual proper horse. So if you have the left leg of a Shire Variation 1, you can’t combine it with a leg of a Shire Variation 2.

We felt like mix-and-match is an interesting concept though, so what we will allow is to combine seven parts of completely different horses to create the new breed known as a “Frankenhorse”.

I can’t tell you how excited we are to introduce this breed!

However, with the Frankenhorse’s magnificent appearance we had to be careful to not make it too much pay-to-win, and decided it will always be limited to half the speed of any normal horse.

Additionally, we’re of course going to let you earn lootboxes by playing the game! For every 1000 races you complete, every 1000 chickens you catch for the Sunfields, or each new reputation level in fishing factions you obtain, you will gain a free loot box!

Why fishing specifically? Well, we feel like it’s really the magnum opus of our game mechanics, and with all the mammal parts you’ll be getting, you might want some sealife to mix it all up. You may worry that there aren’t enough factions of fishing to accommodate the demands, so we’re replacing Soul Riding with an equally long, similarly structured reputation chain where you’ll get a horse loot box each step of the way! So get to fishing!

...

You’re still with me?

Okay, if you’ve gotten all this way, it should be quite obvious that this is a big silly April’s Fools joke!

April’s Fools!

While I’m sure this is no replacement for the usual silly events in the game, I do miss it, and since I might not get the opportunity to do so again, I felt it was still within the bounds of my contract to make up a ridiculous joke about the most hated revenue mechanic in gaming. 😉

Have a wonderful weekend everyone! Happy April!

[rodeoxqueen]

Stuck Thinking Of You-Vergil/Reader

TheLastCrusader Requested: Dante or Vergil gets immobilized in some embarrassing or inconvenient way during a job and then (Y/N) pays them company until they can be freed. How about they have a crush on (Y/N) and they don't know it is returned until the end?

Dante’s Version:https://rodeoxqueen.tumblr.com/post/638040898096201728/stuck-thinking-about-you-dantereader

Read Both Versions on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28187496

Warnings: Fluff, Romantic Comedy, Taking Care of The Twins, Vulnerability, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Characters Call Out The Writer for Her Lazy Writing

One Way To Dante's Heart Is His Stomach. For His Brother, It Is Not As Simple.

Slicing through groups of demons while twirling in the air, Vergil obliterated his enemies. He landed deftly onto the blood-soaked ground. His brother Dante had shot through another horde himself. 

After minimal time spent fighting, the infamous duo already prepared themselves to go home, a job well done. 

“You should join a circus for how much spinning and jumping you do.” Dante quipped. Vergil raised a brow. 

“With a face as hideous as yours, you would be an excellent freak show exhibit.” The elder twin snarled. 

Dante laughed, hands on his hips. 

“Oh please, I’m the prettier twin. My hairline hasn’t flinched, unlike yours.” Vergil stilled. 

“I’ll have you know-” Dante saw a demon Vergil had sliced into slowly raising its tail. It was spiked with various deadly purple needles swishing about. Disemboweled yet still alive, it hissed and whipped its tail. A whistle rang through the air as foot-long spikes flew through the air. 

“-Look out!” Dante quickly shot the demon, its head caving in like a rotten pumpkin. Vergil dodged the dart-like appendages, a mildly displeased look on his face. 

“You’re getting sloppy, Vergil.” Dante teased, shaking his coat of any poisonous darts. 

“If you weren’t so exhausting to deal with, I’d-” Vergil suddenly tensed and fell to the ground. He landed knees first before his torso and head slid onto the earth. Dante let out a breath, and then he wheezed out a laugh. 

“Oh my god, Vergil!” Vergil attempted to move from his embarrassing position, face down and rear pointed to the sky. 

“What on earth? I cannot move.” He felt numb as if he had lost control of his form. Had he missed a dart? 

Dante came around his brother’s kneeled over position. Right on his posterior, had a stray dart pierced him. 

“Poor Vergil, as if a stick up your ass wasn’t enough.” Vergil’s sounds of struggle were fruitless as his form was dumbly paralyzed. 

“Don’t you dare say it-” 

“jAcKpOt!” Dante wheezed and held onto his sword to prevent him from falling over and crying with laughter. 

“Help me at once, you oaf!” Vergil exclaimed. Dante wiped away tears of joy. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He vanished The Rebellion and gently kicked his brother to the side. Vergil landed on the dirt looking like he was in a fetal position. Dante continued laughing the whole way down the mountain, carrying Vergil over his shoulder. 

“This is incredibly undignified.” Vergil snarled. 

“Wait till (Y/N) finds out you got shot in the ass-” 

“You will do no such thing!” Vergil exclaimed. 

You were on the couch, reading a book when Dante kicked the door down. 

“Guess whaaaat!” He yelled, holding Vergil over his shoulder. He marched his way over to the beat-up sofa, gesturing for you to move over. You scooched to the end, Vergil was tossed onto the cushions. 

“Vergil, are you alright?” You asked, seeing how he refused to make eye contact with you. 

“Big brother here got jabbed by some demon. He’s not dead yet so I doubt it’s that bad.” 

Dante reached into his pocket, steadily taking out the needle that he took out of Vergil’s behind. 

He threw it like a toy dart and it landed on his desk. 

Vergil remained silent, simply biding his time before he could forget about his embarrassing ordeal. 

“Wouldn’t he be more comfortable in his room?” You asked, knowing Vergil always took to his room after a mission. Despite your many attempts to make conversation, he was quick to leave before any talk could be initiated. 

“Nah, I need you to keep an eye on him. I’m going to do whatever I want now that he can’t stop me.” 

“If you are going out and gorging yourself on those unhealthy sundaes again-” 

Dante made an evil laugh as he ran out of the shop. 

Vergil sighed. This was terrible. He watched as you examined the needle, opening your computer and a few books. 

Half an hour passed of pure silence, you flipping through books and seeing what on earth caused Vergil to stiffen up like a corpse. 

“Vergil, are you alright?” You asked again, seeing how still he was. 

“What does it look like?” He snapped. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. He sighed again. 

“My apologies. I am not very comfortable trapped in my own body.” You nodded. 

“Well, it says here that the demon that poisoned you could kill men in a second upon injection.” 

“Joy.” Vergil deadpanned. You chuckled at his expression. Vergil softened at your laughter. 

“Since you’re still alive, I’m guessing your demon side is working really hard to get all that toxic stuff out of you.” 

“The blood of Sparda will not wane to a petty demon.” He said lowly.

It wasn’t for an hour until Vergil felt his form begin to feel sensation. His hands barely twitched despite the sweat he built up from trying to move. 

Your demon side..

Vergil remembered your comment. A spark of genius hit him. If he devil triggered, he might be able to metabolize the toxins faster. He willed it within himself, grunting and trying to trigger. 

He could feel his senses slightly amplify as if his triggering process was truly forcing the poison out. Suddenly, the warm surge of his blood flowing became known to him. Yes! This was working. 

With more heaving and straining, he felt his arms slowly loosen from his sides and his legs straighten out. 

“Uhhh. Vergil?” Distracted, he felt his muscles tense again and as a final resort, his reflexes rolled him off the couch. The back of his head flared out in pain as he hit the floor.  He laid on the ground, a defeated blue devil. It was pathetic, he couldn’t even trigger his scales to come out. Grumbling, he noticed you standing near him, looking down with concern. 

“Do you need help?”

"It appears that I am stuck."

"Do you want some help?"

"I don't want your help, I’m fine."

"All right, then.”

"...."

“Are you sure you don’t want to be moved?” Vergil sighed and closed his eyes. 

"That..would be preferable.” 

You rolled up your sleeves, ready to lift him up. He smirked. 

“You should have just said so, silly!” You grin as you place your hand on his back and the pit of his knees. 

“I’m afraid I am not that light, surely lifting me would-” He stopped as you literally bridal carried him. 

“-be toiling…..” He flushed at close proximity of you. 

“How are you this strong?” He blurted. 

“The writer wanted to have a reverse damsel in distress scene. I will never exhibit this strength in future plot lines.” You said sweetly, looking at him with a smile. 

Vergil stopped, staring at your face. Although he was stone-faced as usual, his eyes drank in your wonderful features. It took him a minute to realize you had said something. 

“What did you just say?” 

“Hmm? Oh, I was asking if you wanted to be sitting up or on your side.” 

“..Sitting upright would be fine.” 

You placed him on the sofa again. 

“Is there anything you want while you’re in this situation?” Vergil tried to shrug. 

“It’s fine. I will abide by my time.” 

“You don’t have to be bored, I can play something if you want.” 

“Such as what?” You pointed to your computer. 

“I have an audiobook subscription. If you like, I can play some William Blake poetry.” Vergil raised a brow. He had never been an avid user of technology. If he were to hear any recited poetry it’d be from his own whispers. 

“You also read Blake’s works?” 

“I know you do.” Oh, you thoughtful little sparrow. 

“That would be alright with me.” You were quick to type away on your computer to find a recording. Soon, a male voice permeated the air, reading off verses robotically. 

It was a bit of an awkward moment, Vergil’s continued stone face and you observed it gravely. The recording ended shortly as you paused it. 

“You don’t seem to like it.” 

“Poetry should be spoken, not read off of like an instructions’ manual.”

“How would you do it then?” Vergil took his chance. You were not keen on working now, focused on him instead. 

“My book. It’s in my room. Retrieve it and I shall demonstrate myself.” He teased, a ghost of a grin upon his face. Damn this paralysis. 

You left, rounding up the stairs. 

You entered his room, making sure not to knock anything over. Not that you really could, the room was pristine. You easily saw the brown leather book on the dresser. The leather was well-worn and soft to the touch, a single page dog-eared. 

“So, you’re Mr. Poetry, huh?” You teased as you went down the stairs. 

“The one and only.” Vergil did not miss the old reference to Griffon, the dear bird you cried over. 

You made your way to the couch, sitting on the arm of the sofa. 

“Now which page?” You asked. Vergil stared at you.

“Just start from the beginning.” You obediently flipped to the first page. 

“So do you want to read it?” 

“How am I supposed to hold it up?” Vergil smirked at your sputters. 

“I keep forgetting!” You made your way over to him, choosing to sit on the floor by him. 

He cleared his throat. 

“I was angry with my friend:

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe:

I told it not, my wrath did grow

And I watered it in fears,

Night and morning with my tears;

And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,

Till it bore an apple bright.

And my foe beheld it shine.

And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole

When the night had veiled the pole;

In the morning glad I see

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.” 

Vergil’s voice had a timber, soothing lowness to his usually raspy tone. He was in the zone, eyes blank as he had read this millions of times. 

“It’s a nice poem. It’s a bit brutal though.” You commented. 

“It is.” 

This went on for some time, Vergil reciting while you observed and turned the pages for him. You stopped between to grab yourself and Vergil some water, giving him a blue bendy straw. As the clock hands went around, soon one voice grew the soft company of another. The crest and the trough of tones had embraced, two speakers and one poem. Eventually, you met the unique page from before. 

“The Garden of Love

I went to the Garden of Love.

And saw what I never had seen:

A Chapel was built in the midst,

Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,

And Thou shalt not, writ over the door;

So I turn’d to the Garden of Love,

That so many sweet flowers bore,

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tomb-stones where flowers should be:

And priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,

And binding with briars, my joys ; desires.” 

You tried to copy Vergil, reading off of the page, and avoiding stuttering. The observer shakily held the harp of their own vocal cords, the previous strummer lounging and watching the words take flight above his blue-eyed gaze like flittering sparrows. 

By the time you were finished with the last verse, you turned to see that Vergil’s eyes were directed at you. It’s too bad you didn’t know they were upon you for some time. You gently grazed the dog-eared page. 

“Why did you mark this page?” 

“It is a poem that reminds me of another.” You were slightly puzzled but smiled nonetheless. 

“Well, they’re very lucky to be beheld, I guess.” Vergil stared at you, his eyes bewitched to your profile. With the slope of your face, Vergil swore even the most wonderful sculptors could not capture you to your truest attractiveness. 

“I am luckier to have been in their company for the last few hours.” He rasped. You turned your face, a privilege Vergil wished he could have, to prevent from seeing a negative reaction from you. 

“Me?” You softly said. The book was forgotten, landing on Vergil’s chest. 

“I understand I do not speak to you as much as I wish. I am not as socially affable as my brother. But I do share my affections upon you, in words not of my own. In my most vulnerable, I find cherished company with you.” 

You were quiet. 

“If that’s not the case with you, I am in complete understanding. You are a kind person. You would do the same for my brother if he was in the same situation. I do not wish for this to be ill to our cooperation in this business-” 

“Say less.” You giggled, putting your finger on his lips to shush him. Vergil scrunched his nose as his ears turned red, had he said too much? Had he made a fool of himself? 

Instead, he had seen the color of pink, a shade even the finest roses could not bloom to, appear upon the apples of your cheeks. 

“I like you too, Vergil. I didn’t do all that for you to just be nice. I like getting to know you.” Despite his numbness, his heartbeat in his chest felt like the rain of an angry storm against the earth.

His chapped lips found the capacity to move. 

“Perhaps, when this wretched poison leaves my form, we may find time to do this again.” 

“I’d like that too.” Your eyes squinting with a diamond grin, Vergil made a noise of contentment. 

“It is a day I look forward to-“

“I had so much ice cream today!” Dante yelled as he walked into the shop again. 

“Whoops, you guys look like you were having a nice moment.” Dante winked at Vergil, who growled. 

“Oh hey, Dante!” 

Dante waved at you. 

“I got you guys some dinner since I know (Y/N)’s tired of dealing with shithead here. Vergil couldn’t cook for shit even when he was able-bodied.” 

“I can boil an egg.” Vergil bit back. Dante handed you some Asian takeout, still warm. 

“Don’t worry Verg, I’ll blend yours so you can drink it.” 

“It’s fine, I can help him.” You winked at Dante who waggled his eyebrows. 

The evening ended fairly well. You fed Vergil bits of vegetables and noodles while Dante read his questionable magazines. It was much too late to be going back home, so Dante threw you some blankets and pillows to stay the night. 

Although Vergil offered you his room to rest in, you shook your head. 

“Who’s going to keep you company?” Dante wolf-whistled before retreating to his room upstairs. 

“Leave us!” Vergil exclaimed. You laughed again. 

You turned off the lights and dodged random objects lying around in the dark. You found the familiar softness of pillows and your makeshift bed. 

Vergil fell asleep, feeling wanted. It was a warm sensation that spread to even his fingers, soft and supple. 

He didn’t even notice his hand had come loose and drifted to trace your cheek in both your slumbers. 

[cupidlakes]

i hope this isn’t too hot of a take? i know parasocial relationships are a bit of a meme in the mcyt community but i do honestly think some donators and gifters toe the line a bit too much with it. like some people spend literally thousands on their streamer every month and justify it by saying it’s their own paycheck they can do what they want with it, but that doesn’t really mean that it’s healthy you know? i can understand wanting to support a streamer you love whose content brings you comfort but at the same time spending ludicrous amounts of money to get a small bit of attention and clout from someone who at the end of the day probably doesn’t really care that much about them just feels kinda eh, especially considering these people are already rich enough lmao they don’t need hundreds more (not saying streamers don’t care about their fans but their is definitely a difference that is necessary between how fans view their cc and how ccs view their fans). there is nothing wrong with donating and gifting but constantly doing it with the sole intention of getting a streamers attention just doesn’t seem healthy y’know. and i’ve even some some people like that asking to be mods because they are such active members of the community and obviously care about the streamer which is a whole other can of worms of yikes

response below the cut bc ik it’s gonna be wordy!!

now that’s the thing, i’m not a monopoly on this topic and it’s tricky to navigate discussions around donating to streamers if you have the funds to do so it’s technically no ones business like the way i see it ppl do and can donate if possible as not only a token of their appreciation but a (optional!!) payment for the entertainment they enjoy like how you’d have a subscription to your favourite service or pay for your entertainment generally, even if you think playing minecraft + commentating is nbd if ppl place value on that genre of entertainment then that’s what it means to them even if it seems excessive

if we have to use an example liz (aka “LIZZZZ”) spends $$$ BANK on quackity, it’s well known and has also now moved onto some of his friends like george but explained before that she has a high enough (like very high) paying job and a lot of disposable income as an adult which allows her to spend that much, that aside, it’s just a baseless feeling ofc but i at least think she has a good head on her and isn’t just paying for attention, like gifted subs etc. Are also for the community and from what i know and have seen i don’t think we’ve ever seen her be particularly weird w/ quackity through donos at least publicly

BUT ppl ofc take advantage of the “direct line of communication” to a streamer and absolutely bomb them w personal messages and wishes that lie outside of an appreciation for the content and that’s what i think matters, intent, are you donating to a streamer bc you’re happy they do what they do, asking an innocuous question, trying to be funny or even promoting some fanart you think they’d like or are you conspicuously hoping for something more and that’s where it gets shady and parasocial i guess, it’s human nature to want to feel closer to people we consider our idols and i don’t even blame some individuals because it has to be a genuine problem if you think you can pay for a streamers affections and they need support in those instances but generally i think ppl should know their bounds in communities like these, streamers can love their general audience and communities true but they can’t guarantee their personal attention to any particular person throwing money at them and i don’t think they should (but that’s down to them)

and don’t even get me started on mods it’s so hard to bestow someone a position of power in a community knowing it’s almost a reoccuring theme that ppl are willing to abuse it which is a good point btw ppl should not be allowed to pay themselves into mod positions again you have to take other behaviours into account like if it’s selfless and comes from a place of wanting to better the community and is treated LIKE a job? sure but ppl acting entitled to power over a community or access to a streamer because they’re a reoccurring donator, now that’s questionable

so tl;dr i think we can all have our opinions on the way ppl spend on streamers and it goes without saying that twitch supports this (sub donator badges and stuff) bc it makes them money but ppls intent matters and i think it’s clear in some cases why people are excessively donating/gifting subs and yeah i’d agree it’s not really healthy

[orangeoctopi7]

It’s Fine (It’s not fine)

@forduary week 1 is Hurt/Comfort. The one’s definitely more on the hurt side of things, but I promise there’s some comfort at the end!

Stanford Pines is six years old. He’s in his bedroom, reading quietly. He’s just getting to the climax of the adventure story he’s reading when his brother Stanley crashes into the room. It wouldn't normally be a problem, Ford is really good at tuning out the world around him while he reads, but Stan is complaining loudly.

“I’m booooooard!” The boy moans, grabbing onto the post of their bunk-bed and dangling off it dramatically. 

“Whaddaya want me to do about it?” Ford asks in irritation, not looking up from his book.

“Let’s go play on the beach! Or go to the comic store! Or… or something!” Stan suggests. “Anything but just sit around here doin’ nothin’!”

It was a hot summer afternoon. Ford didn’t want to go down to the beach or the comic store when he knew for certain anywhere they went today was bound to be crowded with people. He just wanted to sit and read in his room and enjoy some time to himself. 

“Can’t you go by yourself?”

“Are you kiddin’? Ma would throw a fit!”

Ford heaves a long-suffering sigh, places a bookmark to hold his place, and snaps his book shut before thumping it down on his bed.

“Well we don’t hafta go if ya don’t wanna.” Stan says lamely.

“It’s fine.” Ford assures him.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s fine.”

* * *

Stanford Pines is ten years old. He’s at recess, trying to lie low. Stan got held back for the whole half-hour because he’d been caught trying to sneak the class pet, a newt, into his backpack. This of course leaves Ford at the mercy of Crampelter and his thugs, who have little to no mercy on any given day. 

“C’mon freak, fight back!” The towheaded bully taunts him, holding Ford back by the forehead as he tries to struggle past the blocking arm for his backpack, held just out of reach. “I know I seen you taking boxing lessons back at Mel’s Gym!”

“It’s ‘I saw’ or ‘I have seen’, and just b‘cuz I’m taking lessons doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to pick a fight I know I can’t win!” Ford protests. 

“Pfft, you’re no fun.” Crampelter scoffs, before grabbing onto one of Ford’s hands while he continues to reach vainly for his backpack. “But y’know what does sound fun?”

“Let go of me!” 

“Seeing how flexible your extra fingers are!” Crampelter starts to push Ford’s pinky finger back with his thumb, stretching it to its limit.

“Stop it! That hurts!”

But Crampelter just keeps pushing and pushing until Ford is sure some tendons are going to pop, when a shrill whistle echoes across the playground.

“Hey! Crampelter! Drop the freak!” The teacher on recess watch commands.

The bully finally lets go, and Ford stumbles to the ground, holding his injured hand close to his body.

“Here, lemme look at that.” the teacher pulls Ford’s hand away to check it. “Eh, ‘snot bleeding or broken, you’re fine.”

As they walk back from school that afternoon, Stan rants over and over that Crampelter Will Not Get Away With This, plotting various methods of revenge, most of them too fanciful to ever come to fruition.

Ford is silent the whole time, his gaze turned towards his shoes.

“Hey.” Stan suddenly stops his ranting and places a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

“It’s fine.” Ford mumbles.

“I promise I’ll try not to get held in for recess again.”

“I said it’s fine.” Ford assures him, knowing that hoping Stan won’t get held back from recess again is like hoping it won’t snow in January. Technically possible, but highly unlikely. 

* * *

Stanford Pines is fourteen years old. He’s a freshman in highschool, and he and his brother are in detention after he was caught letting Stan look off his algebra test.

It’s not that Ford has anything against sharing his answers with his brother. It’s not like he has any sort of moral high-ground here. It’s just that Stan is always so carelessly obvious about it!

“I said I was sorry, alright!” Stan hisses at him, trying not to draw the teacher’s attention.

“We’re not in middle school anymore, these things actually go on our record now!” Ford hisses back. “You have to be more careful!”

“Well maybe if you would actually slip me your paper instead of making me crane my neck over your desk! Nobody’s gonna notice if you hand your test in two minutes before everyone else instead of five!”

“That’d be even more obvious! Maybe if you wore your glasses for once!”

“Maybe I would, if you could hold your own in a fight!”

“What does that even have to do with anything!?”

“You don’t wear glasses in a fight, genius! That’s just asking for them to get broken! And I know I’m always having to step in and save your skin, so why would I even bother wearing them in the first place?”

“Hey!” The teacher overseeing detention snaps at them. “No talking!”

The boys shut their yapps and go back to studying, or at least pretending to study.

“I’m sorry.” Stan murmurs, once he’s sure the teacher is no longer paying attention to them.

“It’s fine.” Ford grunts back.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 17 years old. He is begrudgingly walking down to the beach with his brother.

“C’mon Ford, it’s October, there’s only a few more days of weather nice enough to work on her left! And the dumb science fair isn’t until April!”

“I still have so much research to do before I can even start!” Ford complains. “Not to mention procuring parts, testing different models--”

“That all sounds like stuff you can do once it gets cold.”

“I should be in the building phase by then!” 

“Alright, look,” Stan jabs a finger in his brother’s direction. “If you wanna spend the last few warm days of the year cooped up in the library, that’s your problem. But I’m gonna enjoy the sunshine and the beach, and finish fixin’ up the Stan’o’war. We’re so close, I can practically taste the treasure and babes!”

“...Fine.” Ford grumbles.

“No, no. You go do your nerd thing. I’ll put the finishing touches on this thing we’ve been working on together since we were pipsqueaks.”

“I said it’s fine.”

* * *

Stanford Pines is 17 years old. He’s just come back from the most humiliating moment of his life (thus far). He confronts his brother, the offending evidence crinkling in his clenched fist. Stan tries to play it off like it’s not a big deal. Like he expects his brother to say It’s Fine.

It is most definitely not fine.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 20 years old. He’s showing his new roommate around their humble apartment.

“I really ‘preciate this, Stanford.” Fiddleford McGucket tells him for the sixth time that day. “Most folks wouldn’t offer to put their TA up in their apartment, ‘specially not when you’re lucky ‘nough to get yer own place!”

“Well, I’ll be starting the Doctorate program myself, next year! That makes us equals, in my mind.” Ford says proudly. “And I’m happy for the company! The only reason I have the apartment to myself is because my last roommate and I parted over… differences.”

“Heh, you too, eh?” McGucket chuckles. “Least you weren’t kicked out, like I was!”

“Why were you kicked out?”

“Oh, several reasons. I think the robot in the kitchen was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Ford laughs. “Well, I for one would love to have a robot that does our dishes and cleans the counters.”

McGucket grins and leans against the table.. “See, I knew we’d make great roommates!”

Unfortunately, McGucket’s leaning is more than the wobbly table can take, and it tips over on its side, scattering textbooks and papers everywhere. The two friends begin cleaning up the mess, McGucket apologizing profusely. 

They’ve almost finished putting everything back onto the table when Fiddleford picks up an old photo of two little boys standing before a derelict little boat.

“Well bless my soul! Is this you, Ford?”

Ford’s heart skips a beat. He hadn’t realized he left that photo lying on the table!

“Ah, yes, that’s me. That was the day I decided I wanted to be a researcher--”

“And lookit this little fellah next to ya!” Fiddleford interrupts Ford’s soliloquy. “He looks just like you! I can’t believe I’ve known you for three years, and you never told me you had a twin!”

“Er… it just-- it never came up.”

“How in tarnation does yer own twin brother never come up?” Fiddleford asks incredulously. “So, what’s his name?”

“Stanley and I are not on speaking terms.” Ford says stiffly. “I haven’t spoken to him since I was a teenager.”

A multitude of expressions dance across Fiddleford’s face before Ford can hope to interpret any of them. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He finally says.

“It’s fine.” Ford says tersely, snatching the photo back.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 21 years old. He’s trying to get a good night sleep before his first dissertation tomorrow. 

Trying being the operative word.

The past year rooming with Fiddleford McGucket has been great, for the most part. Ford loves spending time with an intellectual equal. McGucket accepts all of Ford’s idiosyncrasies, and Ford accepts all those of his friend.

Well, almost all of them.

It didn’t take long after they started rooming together for Ford to realize one of the several reasons McGucket had been evicted from his last apartment had nothing to do with his penchant for robotics, and everything to do with his penchant for late-night banjo playing. As much as it cut into Ford’s sleep schedule, he didn’t have the heart to complain to his roommate about it. He knew he had plenty of his own bad habits that were difficult to deal with, like his coffee addiction, his antisocial behavior, his tendency to start a project and just leave it laying wherever he was around the apartment, and his few dozen subscriptions to cryptozoological newsletters.

The digital clock on Ford’s bedside table reads 2:20 AM when the music finally, thankfully stops. He sighs and turns over in his bed, hoping to finally fall asleep.

When he wakes in the morning, groggy as a hung-over sailor, Fiddleford at least has the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, did I keep ya up last night? I kinda got lost in the music an’ lost track of time.”

“It’s fine.” Ford mutters as he pours himself a large mug of the strongest coffee he can brew. This is the first roommate he’s gotten along with since… since he started college. He can put up with this.

“Well, if’n ya need me to, I can start headin’ up to the practice rooms in the assembly hall fer my jam sessions--”

“It’s fine.”

* * *

Stanford Pines is 31 years old. He’s spreading thick globs of slimy aloe vera on his hands. He’s been letting his muse take control of his body while he sleeps for about a week now. Bill says he’s not used to the limits of a physical human body. He’s injured Ford’s body just about every night so far, but last night, when he picked up the hot coffee pot by the pot instead of by the handle, was the worst by far. 

“This keeps on happening, Bill. You need to be more careful.” He gently chides his muse.

“WELL HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT’D HAPPEN? WHY DIDN’T THE IDIOT WHO DESIGNED THAT THING INSULATE THE WHOLE CONTAINER INSTEAD OF JUST THE HANDLE? YOU COULD DESIGN A COFFEE POT WAY MORE EFFICIENT THAN THAT!”

Ford smiles, blushing. “Perhaps I’ll get around to modifying it someday. But for now, as I was saying, could you please be more careful with my body at night?”

“HEY, YOU’RE ACTUALLY LUCKY THIS HAPPENED. IF I HADN’T DROPPED THAT POT, I WOULD’VE TRIED DRINKING IT THE SAME WAY I DO IN MY NORMAL FORM, AND THEN YOU’D PROBABLY BE BLIND. SO WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT, YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME!”

Ford pales. “Er, perhaps I should help you practice using my body first, just to decrease the risk of that sort of thing.”

“OH, I’M SORRY! DO YOU NOT WANT MY HELP? DO YOU NOT WANT TO ACHIEVE GREATNESS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE?”

“No! No of course not! That’s not what I meant!”

“DON’T FORGET, I’M DOING THIS FOR YOU, SIXER! I’M AN AGELESS BEING OF PURE ENERGY! THE ONLY REASON I’M HELPING YOU SPEED UP THE PROCESS ON BUILDING THE PORTAL IS BECAUSE I KNOW HOW PATHETICALLY SHORT YOUR MORTAL LIFE IS. YOU’RE JUST GONNA HAVE TO TRUST ME. OR ARE A FEW BUMPS AND BRUISES TOO MUCH FOR YOU TO HANDLE?”

“Of course not! It’s fine! I’m fine!” Ford insists, finishing bandaging his burns.

* * *

Stanford Pines is… probably 45? He’s not quite sure. He’s lost track of time after traveling the multiverse for so long, especially after the Do-Over Dimension.

He’s making his way through a crowded alien market, hoping to find something he’ll be able to use in his Quantum Destabilizer, and also hoping not to be recognized by any bounty hunters. It’s annoying, having to wear a hood and goggles and mask everywhere he goes, but that’s just the way it has to be now.

It’s fine.

It’s only until he can complete the Quantum Destabilizer. After that… it didn’t matter what happened after that.

It’s fine.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 62 years old. He’s sitting in a hospital bed. Despite what that may suggest, his life has finally taken a turn for the better. Bill is gone, Weirdmaggeddon is over, and, miraculously, no one died. Stanley was going to be ok. The kids didn’t hate him. He’s achieved his goal of destroying Bill Cipher, and survived! He’s fine. They’re all incredibly, wonderfully, fine.

The doctor is giving his vitals one last check before officially discharging him from the hospital. It’s obvious that under normal circumstances, Ford would not be leaving the hospital any time soon, but thanks to the incredibly persistent insistence of his family, and the fact that the hospital is already absolutely filled to the brim with people who were injured during Weirdmageddon, and the fact that Stanford was instrumental in stopping Bill, they’re making an exception. 

“Alright, you’re free to go!” The doctor finally says, handing his clipboard over to Ford to sign. 

“Hooray!” Mabel cheers as her uncle signs his exit papers. “Now you’ll be able to help us set up for our birthday party!” She slings an arm around his neck to hug him, completely forgetting about the thin layer of bandages around his neck. Ford can’t suppress a yelp of pain.

Mabel reels back, hands flying to her mouth. “Ohmigosh, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine.” Ford forces a smile.

“I wasn’t thinking!”

“Mabel, really, it’s fine.”

“Ford.” Stan says firmly. Ford recognizes the expression on his face from the last few days. It’s the look he gets on his face when he’s remembering something painful. “You gotta stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He asks, confused.

“Saying ‘It’s fine’ when it’s not.”

Ford raises an eyebrow. “Stanley, it was just an accident. It really is fine.”

“Oh, yeah, of course this was…” Stan stammers, apparently coming back to the moment. “Mabel’s not-- this was just an honest mistake. But you say… uh, or at least, you used to say that a lot. Even when I could tell it wasn’t really fine. You gotta stop that.”

Ford shifted in his bed uncomfortably. “I’m just being polite.”

“There are ways to say things aren’t fine while still being polite.” Dipper points out.

Ford can feel himself flush. “I’m not good at that. I always come off as rude… or angry.” Saying it’s fine is just easier. He can just move on and forget about it. Control his emotions. Remove them from the equation for the time being, process them later when he’s alone, so nobody gets hurt.

Stan takes a deep breath before he speaks again. “You just gotta trust us, that we’re not gonna leave you just ‘cuz you get angry sometimes.”

Is that really what he’s been afraid of this whole time? That certainly seems to be a part of it, but not the whole. All the same, he does at least feel that he can trust his family. And he can try to be more honest with them when something is bothering him.

“I think I can do that.” he says as he gets up from the hospital bed, ready to go home.

[sachigram]

Telescope Now Chapter 6

((click here to read on ao3!!))

After the swirl of colors dissolves into nothingness, and Izaya can't tell up from down anymore, the first thing he's truly aware of is a bright, all encompassing light. He stares at it through blurry eyes, his lips turned down as he blinks and tries to make sense of it. His fingers twitch, and he looks down at his feet as best as he can, but he can't lift his head very much.

The second thing Izaya notices is that he's not alone.

“Iza-nii!”

He glances to his right and sees Mairu there, her eyes wide. Kururi is on the left, a soft smile on her face. Both of them are crying, and both of them are holding his hands.

“Am...” Izaya croaks. He clears his throat, swallows. “Am I dead?”

“Almost, you dumbass!” Mairu says. She takes the liberty of sitting on Izaya's bed. “You got hit by a truck! We didn't see it, but a lot of people did! They said you flew, and they said there was blood everywhere—“

“You died. Then you came back,” Kururi says, her gentle voice somehow cutting through Mairu's passionate spiel.

“Yeah, I was getting to that! A civilian gave you CPR on the scene, and then you got to the hospital and died! But they brought you back. You've been asleep so long.”

“Coma,” Kururi adds.

“How long?” Izaya asks. His entire body is stiff. He doesn't feel much like himself, but he imagines it might take a while to feel normal again.

“A month! A whole month!” Mairu says. She leans on Izaya and peers up at him. “We didn't call Mom and Dad. Your will said not to unless you died.”

“Oh, good. I don't want to deal with them,” Izaya says. He grimaces. “My throat hurts.”

“Water,” Kururi says, holding up a glass with a straw in it. She holds it still while he drinks.

“You had a tube in your throat. They said it'd be sore when you woke up.” Mairu nuzzles her face into his chest.

“Wow... Who knew you two actually liked me?” he jokes.

“Shut up! Fuck you! We just wanna be there to watch it happen when you die!” Mairu lifts her head and glares at him, her eyes watery. “You gotta pick something way cooler than getting hit by a truck. That’s way too easy!”

“Your crying face is so ugly,” Izaya says, and then he smiles when she starts crying even harder.

“Oh, yeah? So's yours! Yours is uglier!” Mairu swats him, and it's only then Izaya realizes he's crying, too.

“Must be a family trait.” Izaya groans at how heavy his body feels. “I'm still tired.”

“You can sleep again, if you want. But the doctor might want to check you first. Do you remember anything?” Mairu asks.

“A lot of things.” Izaya looks between her and Kururi. “You were dead, weren't you?”

“Huh?” Mairu frowns. “Us?”

“Yeah. You were dead, but then you weren't. We had a funeral.” Izaya struggles to remember details of it, closes his eyes when they become too heavy to deal with. “You haunted me... Was Shizu-chan here?”

“He was there when you got hit... Hey. Iza-nii?”

“Mm?”

He doesn't hear her reply before he falls unconscious once more.

***

Time passes. The first few days, Izaya isn't able to stay awake for long periods of time. Despite being out of it for a month, he feels his sleep wasn't restful, and he slips in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he wakes to the twins at his side, sometimes to the doctor, a stern looking woman with her hair swept in a tight bun. Sometimes there are nurses. Sometimes he's alone.

His injuries were extensive, a long list of things Izaya tunes out because it reminds him too much of Shinra's rambling. The doctor insists he stays a few days for observation, so he spends most of his time bored, but it's better with the twins around. They keep him company when they're not in school, and they don't leave until the hospital staff makes them. Izaya doesn't remember ever spending this much time with them, even when they lived together, and despite his eagerness to leave, he enjoys it. He missed them, he realizes, and he didn't even know how much until he almost died.

One day before he's discharged, he finds himself engrossed in playing Go Fish with them. They're all cheaters, so it erupts into a lot of arguing, and the twins keep ganging up on him, swapping their cards like they think he can't see. Sometimes he allows it, but for the most part, they fight until suddenly hours have gone by.

“Do you have any queens?” Mairu asks during their last game. Visiting hours are almost over, but they asked the nurse if they could finish their current game before the twins leave.

“Go fish,” Izaya says, and she pouts at him.

“Are you lying?”

“If I was, why would I tell you I was?” Izaya asks. Her eyes narrow suspiciously before she draws from the deck.

“Kururi, do you have any queens?” Izaya asks, and Mairu throws her cards at him.

“ Cheater! You're a cheater, Iza-nii!”

“Oh, you said queens. I'm sorry, I thought you said something else,” Izaya says, holding her off while she tries to jump on him. Kururi watches with an indulgent expression, and she quietly gathers all the cards back together.

“So you're going home tomorrow?” Mairu asks after she's worn herself out.

“Yes, and it's about time. I hate hospitals. It's the whole reason I have my own doctor,” Izaya says. Shinra hasn't visited, but Izaya isn't surprised. The only one to see him aside from the twins was Namie, who only did so after he blew up her phone and threatened to dock her pay.

“Okay, well we're coming over tomorrow night! And we'll watch movies. You have all the subscription services, anyway. Make sure you buy snacks!” Mairu smiles excitedly, and Izaya scoffs.

“You both have access to all my subscription accounts. You're like parasites. I'll make sure to buy lots of vegetables for you to snack on.”

“No! You better buy good snacks! I mean it!” Mairu raises her fists, and for a brief second, the twins look younger, the way they did when they'd cling to his legs and torture him for hours on end. He blinks and they're back to normal, young women who still torture him for hours on end, though they grew out of clinging to him long ago.

“Okay, okay. Text me what you want,” Izaya relents, leaning back into his bed. Both of them watch him thoughtfully.

“You're being much less of an asshole than normal,” Mairu says. “Is it 'cause we died in your coma dream?”

That's what the twins have taken to calling it, “Izaya's coma dream.” He recounted as much of it as he could to them, excluding the parts about Shizuo for obvious reasons, as well as omitting just how much he missed them. As it turns out, there were some accuracies to the things he dreamed, overlap between the dream and reality. Some of the things he experienced really was because the twins were speaking to him, usually while poking and prodding at him, demanding he wake up. His binder of old poems sits on a little bedside table, brought by Mairu, who read a few of them out loud and threatened to post them online if he didn't wake. Next to the binder are two vases of flowers, one sent by Simon, a coupon for sushi pushed into the stems, and the other sent by Shiki, a brief wish of wellness written on the card that came with it, though Izaya is certain it was for the twins' sake rather than his own. Izaya can recall the brief recognition of a floral scent in his dream.

The parts of his dream that didn't happen were his own torturous thoughts, some of them guilt-related, while others were things he's longed for but would never admit, even to himself. As for Shizuo, Izaya has no idea if Shizuo was ever really there or not. The twins say they don't know, but they think so, as they've seen him around outside the hospital. The nurses say they haven't seen anyone else when Izaya asks, though a few of them have conspiratory smiles he doesn't quite trust.

“Maybe my head injury changed my personality a bit,” Izaya suggests. “Turns out you don't annoy me as much as you normally do, but I reserve the right to change my mind on that.”

“Oh, blah blah. We'll see you tomorrow!” Mairu chirps, and she tackles him in a hug. Kururi joins a moment later, though her embrace is much gentler. They wave at him one more time before leaving him alone. He sighs and picks up his phone, planning to work a little to occupy himself, but someone else peeks into his room.

“Izaya-kun!” Shinra waltzes in, a ditzy smile on his face. “So, you cheated death again, huh? You really are like a cockroach!”

“How wonderful of you to say. Took your time in visiting, didn't you?” Izaya sets his phone down and smirks at Shinra, who rolls his eyes.

“What fun is there in visiting someone in a coma! You wouldn't have known I was here.”

“I've been out of the coma for a few days now. Besides, as it turns out, I was aware of a few things.”

“Really?” A spark of interest lights in Shinra's eyes.

“It was like a fever dream. Everything was just...jumbled. It was a strange experience, like my normal life mixed with nightmares and bits and pieces that didn't add up. I've already forgotten a lot of the details.”

“ Fascinating! Well, you're not the first to say such things. Some people can wake up speaking an entirely new language, you know? Some people live their lives as normal before finding themselves waking in the hospital.” Shinra takes a seat beside Izaya and pats his arm. “What parts do you remember about your dream?”

“The twins were dead,” Izaya says, looking down at Shinra's hand on his arm. “I couldn't really figure out how they died, and I kept seeing and hearing them even after they were supposed to be gone. It was like the more they haunted me, the more I realized they were actually alive, but no one believed me, and the more things I couldn't make sense of, the more I thought I was crazy.”

“Well, you are crazy, but not because of that. Sounds like some part of your brain knew you had experienced a trauma. It's not surprising you convinced yourself of a death in the family.”

“I thought of the truck a few times, too. Hell, maybe I was trying to tell myself they were the ones who got hit. Who knows?” Izaya sighs. “You were in my dream as well.. Possibly most suspicious of all was you actually being a decent friend for once.”

“What! I'm the best person you know!” Shinra wails.

“That's not saying much, but no, you're still one of the worst.”

“I won't take that personally because of who's saying it. Like you're a good judge of character.” Shinra crosses his arms. “Well. I'm glad you woke up, anyway. As much as you deserve horrible things, you're still my friend. It'd suck if I was suddenly down to one.”

“You're too kind, Shinra.”

“Shizuo-kun has been really...ah. He'd kill me if he knew I was talking about him to you!” Shinra shivers and makes a face. “But it's not like you'll be going out of your way to see him since you've got a broken leg. Not unless you want to go back into a coma.”

“I can't say I enjoyed it all that much,” Izaya says, though he certainly enjoyed certain aspects of it.

“He was pretty distraught. He said he was chasing you when it happened, said he tried to grab you, but it was too late. He hung around until the ambulance got there. I think he blames himself for it,” Shinra says.

“Well, I've gotten him hit twice now. I suppose he owed me one,” Izaya replies, and Shinra clicks his tongue.

“He owes you more than that! But Shizuo-kun is a good person. I'm sure he'll be happy to know you're going to be fine, at least until he kills you himself.”

Izaya keeps his face as impassive as possible, though Shinra has always been the one to see through it. They watch each other for a moment, lapsing into an easy silence. They've always coexisted well together, well enough that Izaya knew the dream Shinra was off, even if he couldn't place why.

“I don't suppose you want to play a quick game of poker, do you?” Izaya asks.

Shinra laughs. “Not with you! You're a cheater. Anyway, I only had a few minutes to drop by. I better be going now.” He stands, puts his hands in his pockets while he hovers.

“I'm going home tomorrow. I guess I'm stuck making dinner for the twins, so you can come mooch off me, if you want.” Izaya swallows, already knows what Shinra will say.

“Nah, I've got plans with Celty. We've gotten even closer and more in love in the month you've been asleep! I'll regale you sometime, since I know my true love gives you inspiration in your life!” Shinra grins, and then he pauses, tilts his head as he scrutinizes Izaya. “What's that look for?”

“Nothing. You're right, you're busy. I'm just still a little loopy,” Izaya says, and Shinra hums thoughtfully.

“Well, get some rest. Allow yourself to heal before you get back to your usual vile ways, and call me if you need! I don't know how often I'll answer, since it depends on what Celty and I are up to, but I'll get back to you.” Shinra smiles once again, and as soon as he came, he's gone.

Izaya shakes his head before he falls back in bed, laughter bubbling up before he can help it. He laughs and laughs, holds his sides when it starts to hurt, but he keeps laughing anyway.

“Vacation's over,” he says to himself, closing his eyes when they start to burn. He rolls to his side and keeps laughing, and when a nurse wanders in to ask if he's alright, he can't quite figure out how to answer.

***

Once he's back home, he begins to feel more like himself. Namie returns with her usual sour attitude, and he's taken by surprise when she volunteers to cook dinner. Usually, he has to torment her, and even then she'll sometimes still mess up the food she makes, usually by making it too sweet or too spicy. He watches her suspiciously as she bustles around, her back to him.

“Am I still in a coma?” he asks, pushing himself away from the desk so he can follow her around in his office chair. She scowls at him.

“I've been off a month, so I've had enough downtime. Besides, I expect overtime for this.”

“Right, that's fine. Hey, make extra, okay? My sisters are coming.” Izaya scoots back to his desk and starts typing, not realizing at first that Namie is staring. “What?” he asks when he finally notices her eyes boring into him.

“I thought you didn't like them?” Namie asks. She puts her hand on her hip. “All you ever talk about is how much they annoy you.”

“Yeah, well, they do annoy me, but they were pretty distraught by all this. I'll let them hang around until they remember they can't stand me.”

“Shouldn't take too long, then.”

“You can stay for dinner too, if you want. Mairu thinks you're pretty since she doesn't know any better.” Izaya leers at Namie, who looks very much like she swallowed a lemon.

“No thanks. Your sisters are almost as creepy as you,” she says.

“Ah. Well, the invitation is still extended.”

“Look at you, all hospitable. Never would've pegged you as the generous type.” She turns her back to him, and his grin stretches wider.

“As if you'd peg anyone other than dear Seiji-kun.”

She drops the spoon she's holding and stomps towards him, and since he can't run, he winds up scooting around in his chair, cackling as she slaps at him and chases after him, yelling about what a horrible pervert he is.

***

A month later, Izaya is meeting with Shiki about a job. Shiki has opted to come to him, since Izaya is still recovering, and Shiki can be surprisingly accommodating when he wants to be. Shiki arrives with two men who stand on either side of Izaya's door, and Shiki enters the apartment, bowing to Namie when she lets him in. He raises a hand when Izaya starts to stand.

“No need. You're in a cast, after all.”

“Thank you, Shiki-san,” Izaya says, leaning back into the couch.

“You look well.” Shiki walks to a cushy chair he favors during his visits. Izaya had Namie help him move it in front of the couch just for this meeting. “I hope your injuries aren't still bothering you?”

“Ah, just the leg. It broke in a couple of places, so the cast is on for at least another month.”

Namie returns then, places a cup of tea on the coffee table for Shiki, bowing before she goes back to the desk.

“My lovely secretary really makes this all so much easier. I'm truly blessed,” Izaya quips, and when she cuts her eyes at him, he winks.

“I hope she's being paid extra,” Shiki says, picking up his tea. He blows on it, watches Izaya with an amused expression.

“Oh, of course. She insists.” Izaya crosses his good leg over the cast. The worst part of it all is the itching . He can't reach inside the cast, and he's had an itch for the better part of the day.

“I'm glad you're doing well. We have other sources, but I admit you're one of the more pleasant to interact with,” Shiki drawls.

“What a compliment! Comparing me to the scum of the city is cruel, Shiki-san!” Izaya laughs. “I wanted to thank you for the flowers. I know you and Akabayashi-san checked in with my sisters while I was out. They kept the flowers you sent, dried them and made them into bookmarks. I'm glad to know they weren't alone.”

“Your sisters have quite a few friends, all seemingly older than they are,” Shiki says. “I often spot them around the city traversing with the wrong sort of crowd.”

“Family trait,” Izaya responds with a smile. “There are too many things to get involved with in the city, after all. At least they have people looking out for them.”

“It's heartening to hear you care for them. Usually you're so detached, Izaya-san.”

“You think so? We're just not an emotional family. Rest assured, I watch out for them in my own way. I keep them from kidnapping famous actors, at any rate.” Izaya reaches beside him, places a folder on the table for Shiki. Izaya spends most of his time online, but there's something so charming about paper files. He's glad to know Shiki feels the same.

“You're already done?” Shiki asks, leaning forward to take the folder. He looks impressed. “You've hit the ground running, Izaya-san. Ah...in a manner of speaking.”

“Hit the ground limping, at the very least.”

“Thank you. Akabayashi-san will be happy to put some hoodlums in their place. He's been getting antsy. It's been quiet without you around.”

“Coincidence, I'm sure! I'm happy to hear the city was quiet while I was in the hospital. I'd hate to miss too much excitement.” Izaya falls silent as Shiki reads over the papers. The TV is on, but it's muted. A home improvement show is playing.

“Very good, Izaya-san,” Shiki says, standing. “Sorry I can't stay and finish the tea, but I have work to do.”

“No apologies necessary. I hope you'll forgive me for not walking you out?” Izaya says, and Shiki arches a brow at him.

“I've excused you for more, haven't I? Get well soon, Izaya-san.”

Shiki leaves with the men, and Izaya uncrosses his legs, flops dramatically into the cushions.

“God, how pompous. Being in a room full of men in the middle of a 'Mine's Bigger Than Yours' contest is the worst,” Namie drawls from the desk.

“Oh no worries, Namie! Yours was definitely the biggest in the room!” Izaya looks up at the ceiling as he puts his arms behind his head. “We should order lunch.”

“You're not going to insist I cook for you today?” Namie asks.

“I'm craving ootoro! I haven't had it in so long. Doesn't Russia Sushi sound good?”

“I'll order it,” Namie says. “Can't risk you changing your mind, after all. I'd rather not have to make anything.”

“You can have Simon deliver it. We both have too much work to do to leave the office. As it turns out, I have a coupon!”

Simon arrives about an hour later with his usual booming voice and blinding smile. He waltzes inside and places his giant hand on Izaya’s shoulder.

“Izaya! Good to see you. I heard you lost fight to truck!”

“Oh, yes, it was a close one. Thanks for the flowers,” Izaya replies.

“Flowers good for health, but sushi better. I'm glad you used coupon!” Simon hands the bag to Izaya and waves joyfully at Namie, who waves back before going into the kitchen to grab drinks.

“Would you like anything before you're off, Simon? I have some bottled tea,” Izaya says.

“No, no. It busy day. I best get back.” Simon looks closely at Izaya and gives him a smile. The next time he speaks, it's in Russian. “I don't guess this near death experience changed you much?”

“ Of course not. A tiger never changes his stripes, does he?” Izaya says, also in Russian.

“ No, he doesn't. I hope you return to the city soon, Izaya. It misses you. But I also hope you don't mess it up too much. I love the city.”

“ As do I, Simon.”

Namie returns and hands Izaya a glass of iced tea. She sits in the chair Shiki vacated and opens the bag, passing Izaya his food before opening her own container. She frowns.

“We didn't order all of this,” she says.

“On house for pretty lady and Izaya!” Simon says, and then he bows to her. “Get well gift.”

“Thank you,” Izaya says, happy with all the extra sushi. He pauses. “No specials, right?”

“No. We know you picky.” Simon offers one last smile before he makes his way out. He stops when he reaches the door, turns to look at Izaya over his shoulder. “Shizuo was there today. He asked about you.”

“Did he?” Izaya asks, keeping his face neutral. That was definitely the kind of thing Simon could have said in Russian, so he knows there's a reason Simon said it where Namie could understand.

“He troubled by what happened. You should call him, make amends. You two have been fighting so long.”

“Shizu-chan knows where to find me. He also has my number. Trust me when I say I have no desire to see or speak to him, especially with my leg the way it is,” Izaya says, and then he eats a piece of ootoro, keeping his back to Simon.

“I see,” Simon says. “Tigers are not cowards, Izaya.”

He leaves before Izaya can respond.

“What was that about? Even Simon knows about your monster crush? How pathetic are you?” Namie asks. She never looks as happy as she does while being antagonistic. Izaya likes that about her.

“It's not exactly a secret Shizu-chan hates me. Apparently we're a bit of an urban legend around here.” He withholds a comment about Seiji, knowing they'll only bicker back and forth. Mealtimes are meant to be enjoyable, and Izaya doesn't want either of their bitterness to taint the food.

The door bursts open suddenly, halting the conversation.. Namie jumps, almost dropping her takeout, but Izaya has gotten used to Mairu's grandiose entrances by now. She gallops inside, Kururi trailing behind her, and she pounces on Izaya from behind, leaping over the back of the couch.

“I-za-nii!” she sing-songs, and then she steals a piece of his sushi. “We're staying the night tonight! We didn't ask first, since you might've made some excuse for us not to.”

“Great,” Izaya says. Kururi rounds the couch to come sit beside him, and he hands her the takeout bag.

“Oh, guess who we saw today!” Mairu chirps, rearranging herself to sit on Izaya's other side. Her legs kick out, shaking the whole couch. “Shizuo-san! He was working with that guy and that pretty girl! He asked us about you, and I told him if he wanted to know, he should see you himself, and you know what?! He didn't get mad! Isn't that amazing?!” She bounces in place.

“Mairu,” Kururi says calmly, and Mairu stops moving as if she's been shocked, looks wary of Kururi, probably due to the spray bottle Kururi keeps for these occasions.

“Since when did everyone decide to mention that moron to me so cavalierly? I thought we all knew not to mention us to each other,” Izaya says, and Namie rolls her eyes while the twins both sigh in unison.

“Iza-nii, how are you this stupid?” Mairu asks, and Izaya glowers at her.

“All men are stupid,” Namie replies.

“Oh yeah? Even your darling brother?” Izaya asks her, and rather than react to it the way he hoped she would, she just shrugs slightly.

“Sure. He's with that bimbo, after all.”

***

By the time Izaya gets the cast removed, he's so pent up with extra energy that his skin feels as if it's vibrating.

He hasn't stayed locked inside the entire time by any means, but he's had to be careful and on guard, usually accompanied by Namie or Shiki's men, who generously drive him to and from headquarters when Shiki is too busy to meet at Izaya's apartment. Izaya hasn't been able to go off by himself the way he likes, and he definitely hasn't done any work outside of his office, not wanting to risk being injured again while he's been on the mend. If there's anything Izaya hates about humans, it's their limitations, and that goes double for his own.

He opts to have Shinra remove the cast rather than go anywhere else. Shinra's chatter is obnoxious, but he's more convenient to deal with the majority of the time. He's cheerful as he works, prattling on and on about Celty, speaking so fast that Izaya can hardly decipher any of it, not that he's trying very hard to.

“There we go! All finished!” Shinra says happily when the cast is fully off.

“ Finally,” Izaya groans, reaching down to scratch at his skin. “It's been driving me insane.”

“So what now?” Shinra asks. “You're all healed. It's like the accident never happened.”

“I wouldn't say that. I certainly remember it well.”

“What about the dream you had? Do you still remember it?”

“Parts of it,” Izaya says. “Some of it's fuzzy, but I remember highlights.”

“You got off easy, but I'm sure you know that. Fate's always been kinder to you than you deserve!” Shinra stands and stretches before he gathers his things. “You should talk to Shizuo-kun, by the way. He's been moping around lately, and it's intruding on my time with Celty!”

“ Why does everyone insist I speak to that imbecile?” Izaya asks with a grimace.

“Because you want to, and because he wants you to.” Shinra grins and closes his briefcase. “Sometimes things really are that simple, Izaya-kun.”

***

It's business as usual after the cast comes off. Izaya leaves Namie to handle the paperwork and the computer files, and he roams around the city, happily resuming his usual activities. He's on his way to a cafe to grab some coffee when he sees a familiar van parked across the street, anime girl on the door shining as if she was just washed. Izaya chuckles to himself and makes his way over, lifting his hand in greeting when the van's occupants notice him.

“Izayan!” Kawisawa launches out the door and is in front of Izaya before he can so much as blink. You're all better! Did your brain get scrambled in the accident? Have you seen the error of your ways?”

“Rest assured, if anything, I'm worse now,” Izaya says, and she grins at him.

“You look well, Izaya,” Kadota says.

“Aw, Dota-chin, don't flirt with me in public! I'm shy, you know?” Izaya asks, batting his lashes playfully. Kadota rolls his eyes, clearly trying to hide a smile.

“Tell me, Izayan, is it true Shizu-Shizu was there when you got hit?” Kawisawa asks, yanking on Izaya's arm. He frowns at her, worried she'll rip his coat sleeve. “Did he carry you to safety? Did he give you mouth to mouth?! I need to know! Paint the picture for me! So there you are, injured, gasping for air, and in your line of sight, before it goes all dark, you see him, the man of your dreams, crying and gripped with fear at the very thought of losing you—!”

“Kawisawa-chan, you've got quite an imagination,” Izaya says, tugging his arm free from her. “I can't tell you what happened, unfortunately. I was a little busy trying not to die.”

“If you don't know, that means I could be right!” she shouts, practically foaming at the mouth. A hand reaches out of the van and grabs the back of her collar, tugging her inside.

“She's been like this since it happened,” Yumasaki says, poking his head out and giving Izaya a little wave. “She's asked Shizuo too, but he won't answer her at all, so she's just been going wild with the theories. She wrote a story where Shizuo was on a horse when he saved you.”

“A horse?” Izaya asks.

“It's not impossible! Celty-san has a horse, and they’re friends!” Kawisawa shrieks, and then the van shakes as she grapples with Yamasaki. Kadota sighs before he hops out of the van and slides the door closed on them.

“So you're doing better?” he asks.

“Can't complain. Should I take it personally that you didn't visit me?”

“They were only allowing family when I tried. We spent some time with your sisters, though. Made sure they were eating and gave them rides home when visiting hours were over. They were pretty messed up over the whole thing.”

“I'm glad they had some friends around. They're still being a little clingy, but I suppose that's understandable.”

Kadota grins and puts his hand on Izaya's shoulder. “Maybe the truck did scramble your brain, huh? You're being nice to your sisters. Never thought I'd see the day.”

Izaya shrugs. “They're not so bad as long as they don't get splashed with water or fed after midnight.”

Kadota laughs loudly, and Izaya smirks up at him.

“So what brings you here, Dota-chin? Did you need a caffeine fix, too?” Izaya asks.

“Nah, Togusa is in the store over there. Some kind of magazine article on Hijiribe Ruri. He's still obsessed with her. I'm sure he knows all there is to know, but he buys everything they release on her anyway.”

“How tragic for him she's taken,” Izaya says.

“He'll get over it. Hey— Do me a favor okay? Between us. Wait a while before you fuck with Shizuo again. He's working through some stuff,” Kadota says.

“I've got no desire to see him, believe me. It's more likely he'll spot me and attack all on his own.”

“I dunno, man. He's pretty messed up about what happened to you. Maybe you guys could use this as an opportunity to finally bury the hatchet. It's been peaceful lately.”

“The natural state of things isn't 'peaceful'. Something will happen whether I'm involved or not,” Izaya replies. “Besides, Shizu-chan will get over whatever he's working through, and he'll be the one to throw the first punch, just like always.”

Kadota makes a face. “I really, really don't want to prove Erika right here, so all I'm gonna say is that Shizuo isn't acting like someone who saw the person he hates most almost get killed. He's acting like he almost lost someone important to him. Maybe you guys should talk, at least. I'm not saying you’ll be all buddy-buddy, but it's worth a shot, right? I know you don't hate Shizuo as much as you claim to. You're actually pretty easy to read.”

“Am I?” Izaya asks. “Careful, Dota-chin, you're making a lot of assumptions.”

“Somehow, I think I can take you if I had to.” Kadota ruffles Izaya's hair, and Izaya huffs, shoves Kadota away, and tries to straighten his hair with his fingers. “I mean it, okay? Just talk to the guy. Shizuo is level-headed when he wants to be. Just don't piss him off and he’ll listen.”

“You're giving me an impossible task, you know?” Izaya mutters petulantly.

“Yeah, but you're smart. You'll figure it out.” Kadota smiles and crosses his arms before he chuckles softly. “You crazy kids.”

“Just kiss him when you see him!” Kawisawa shouts, and Izaya looks up to see her face pressed in the window of the front seat. “Words don't matter! It's about the passion!”

“Christ.” Kadota grumbles and shakes his head. “I'm really never gonna get a moment of peace if she's right about this.”

“As if you've ever been a huge fan of peace,” Izaya says. “Personally, I find it to be overrated.” He waves before he makes his way over to the cafe, and when he looks back at the van through the window, he sees Kadota and Yumasaki fighting to hold Kawisawa down, and when Togusa returns to the van, he takes one look at the scene before turning and walking away.

***

Funnily enough, Izaya sees Shizuo again at Sunshine 60.

Izaya is finishing up a meeting with a client, exiting the restaurant when he spots Shizuo walking past with Tom. He wonders if Shizuo is there for work, but it's more likely they're just hanging out. Tom and Shizuo are actually friends more than coworkers, and Izaya keeps in mind that Vorona might be lurking around too, as fixated on Shizuo as she is. Rather than approach as he's always done, Izaya stays still and waits for them to pass, and as soon as they're out of sight, Izaya finds himself taking the familiar path to the roof.

It's a clear night out, and it's freezing. Izaya huddles into his coat and stands near the edge, looking down at the specks of light below. So many people, all of them living their lives, and despite their numbers, Izaya finds he feels alone. Part of him wishes he bought a bottle of sake along, but it would've just been for the sake of nostalgia. Izaya still tries hard not to think of the dream, but like most things to do with Shizuo, Izaya finds it creeping into his mind often. He sighs loudly, watches his breath cloud in front of him.

“Why the hell am I mourning something that never even happened?” he mutters. The twins are alive, he's alive. In the end, that's all that really matters, right? Everything else is just remnants from a dream.

He tenses when the door opens behind him. He already knows who it has to be, but he's surprised all the same to see Shizuo there, hands in his pockets, a weary look on his face.

“Shizu-chan, what a surprise. Did you follow me?” Izaya feels the weight of his knives in his pockets, and they comfort him. This is the real Heiwajima Shizuo, one who hates Izaya and wants him dead, one who chased him into the path of an incoming truck, intentional or not. Izaya can't let his guard down.

“Haven't seen you in a while,” Shizuo says. He's not wearing his shades for once, Izaya notes. Shizuo's eyes are oddly earnest when they're not covered and aren’t full of rage. That's one detail Izaya got right in his dream, at least.

“Aren't you always telling me to stay out of the city? Maybe all it took was a truck ramming into me to make me listen. Really drove the threat home.” Izaya sits on the ledge, facing Shizuo, his back to the abyss below.

“Don't,” Shizuo growls. “Don't make it into a joke.”

“Why not? It's kind of funny, isn't it? Some part of you must think I deserved it. I certainly think I did.” Izaya tilts his head to the side, studying Shizuo. “What's eating you, Shizu-chan? Usually you would've launched at me by now. Look, I'm even on the edge of the building! I've made myself an easy target for you!”

“I said to fucking quit it!” Shizuo shouts. His voice echoes around them. “I didn't come here to fight with you, okay? For fuck's sake, flea, you almost died in front of me, so stop being an asshole for once in your life and listen to me, 'cause I have shit to say.”

Izaya mimes zipping his lips, and then he gestures for Shizuo to keep talking. Shizuo glowers at him, seeming to be on the edge of some kind of breakdown. It's fascinating, and Izaya feels the innate urge to keep pushing Shizuo towards that edge, eternally curious as he is to observe results.

“Well? Are you going to talk, or is the fact you're having thoughts at all making you short-circuit?”

“I hate you,” Shizuo says in response, and Izaya wonders if this is supposed to be profound in any way. “I really do, okay? I hate you so fucking much that it keeps me up at night. Every problem I've had, every time some fucker comes at me with a weapon, all I think about is you, and how you probably had something to do with it. You're a terrible fucking person, and I've spent years thinking of how I wanted to kill you, how much better my city would be without you in it.”

Izaya keeps his face impassive as Shizuo starts pacing. Clearly Shizuo is experiencing enough emotion for both of them, after all. It looks exhausting.

“I told myself at first that no matter what happened to you, whether you woke up or not, that I didn't care. I didn't want to care. It was what you deserved, and maybe you actually deserved worse, but goddammit, Izaya, I keep reliving that day over and over again, and all I can think of is how I wasn't fast enough to save you.” Shizuo stops pacing, turns and looks at Izaya, a helpless look in his eyes. The strongest man in Ikebukuro, helpless. What a thought.

“I see,” Izaya says, not really knowing how else to respond. “So you feel guilty.”

“'Guilty' doesn't seem strong enough,” Shizuo says, back to pacing. “I don't feel responsible, I don't feel like it was my fault, I just—“ He pauses, throws his hands in the air, and growls in frustration. “It felt like a waste, Izaya.”

“Because you wanted to kill me yourself?” Izaya prompts.

“No, because it was too fucking easy, too fast for that to be the end!” Shizuo snarls and exhales deeply before continuing. “You know, all that time I chased after you, and you were never scared. You came back over and over, and I never even thought about what I'd do if I actually caught you. It was just a goal, one of those things you tell yourself to keep you going, but I think... I think I was happy you kept coming back, in some weird, fucked up way. You were the only one who kept fighting with me no matter what. I hated it, but I think it was...a comfort, too. I got used to you coming back. I thought you always would.”

Izaya thinks of the Shizuo in his dream, the one who laughed and toasted his whiskey mockingly to Izaya. “You're the most stable thing in my life.”

“Part of me kept waiting for you to show up and say it was all a joke. I didn't... Fuck.” Shizuo groans, makes a violent gesture with his hands. “I didn't want to think about you actually being gone.”

“Tell me, Shizu-chan, did you come to see me in the hospital?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo looks up at him sharply, an oddly bashful expression on his face. “Would you believe me if I said I could feel you there?” Izaya remembers the comforting pressure of a hand in his, one too large to be either of his sisters'.

“Shinra said you dreamed...” Shizuo mutters. “Said you woke up spouting some shit about the twins being dead.”

“It was my life, but it wasn't. There were details that didn't add up, and the people around me were... wrong. Not necessarily better or worse, but not themselves. I found myself surrounded by others, and wouldn't you know it, that's when I realized it couldn't be real.” Izaya leans back a bit, crosses his legs in front of him. Shizuo looks on warily, as if prepared to leap forward in case Izaya leans back any further. “I was forced to take a good look at things, at various versions of my life, like hundreds of mirrors surrounding me. It was like being inside a telescope.” Izaya forces a smile. “Part of me didn't want to wake up.”

Shizuo sighs softly, and he steps forward, takes the liberty of sitting beside Izaya on the ledge. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out his cigarettes.

“So what now?” he asks.

“Well. I suppose this is the part where I tell you that your feelings are a normal trauma response to what you saw. I could've been anyone, Shizu-chan, and you would've felt just as guilty because you were there to see it happen,” Izaya says.

“Fuck that, it wasn't anyone. It was you.” Shizuo lights his cigarette and inhales deeply. “You were just so lifeless, folded all wrong like a ball of paper. I got your fucking blood on me.” His head tilts slightly towards Izaya, though he keeps staring forward. “It was you, flea.”

“Mm. So it was.”

“You're being weirdly understanding about all this. I kind of thought you were gonna throw a knife or something when you saw me,” Shizuo says, flicking some ashes away.

“I'm not ruling it out,” Izaya promises. He turns to Shizuo and smiles at Shizuo's perplexed little frown. “I suppose I'm just not surprised. To me, this isn't our first conversation about this.”

“Huh? What, was I in your dream or something?”

“You were. You were there more than anyone else, if you can believe it.”

Shizuo's face flushes, and he coughs slightly on his next exhale.

“You know,” Izaya begins, “I'm not sure exactly what it was I experienced. I can say it was a dream, but at the same time, it could've been a glimpse into another universe, another timeline. I saw so many things, some of them I can't remember clearly, but I remember you being there. It made me happy, Shizu-chan, and it was hard to know you wouldn't be there anymore when I woke up.”

Shizuo stiffens, his fingers clenching around the cigarette until it snaps. He curses when it burns him, and he throws it away with an angry little huff before he turns back to Izaya.

“I had dreams, too,” he says. “Nothing as weird as yours. Mostly just about us in high school, I guess since that's the most time we ever spent together. I kept wondering how different things might be if we ever tried to get along.”

“'What if' is a dangerous question, isn't it? Let's consider it progress that we're sitting here now.” Izaya smirks at Shizuo, who immediately narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Shizu-chan missed me.”

“I did not,” Shizuo says defensively, and then his eyes widen as if the thought only just now crossed his mind. “Or...I did? Fuck. I think maybe I did.”

“You don't know?” Izaya asks, and he can't help but laugh at the bewildered expression on Shizuo's face. It's been so long since he's laughed like this, without bitterness or malice. It really is just funny.

“Fuck you! Stop laughing!” Shizuo glowers, seeming to sink into himself when Izaya only laughs harder. “You're the worst. I hate you, I really do.”

“Then why did you miss me?” Izaya lilts, and Shizuo crosses his arms, looking pointedly anywhere but at Izaya.

“Maybe I'll still kill you. Shitty flea, you piss me off,” Shizuo mutters, mostly to himself. Izaya can hear his teeth grinding.

“Relax, would you? I missed you, too.”

In an instant, all the anger drains away from Shizuo's face. He turns to Izaya, his mouth slightly open in surprise.

“You were with me, but it wasn't really you. I missed my Shizu-chan! Another is no good for me.” Izaya stands and stretches, aware Shizuo's eyes are still on him. He takes a few steps towards the roof entrance.

“Wha... Hey! Where are you going?” Shizuo asks, following after, as always.

“It's cold. I'm cold.” Izaya stops abruptly and turns to face Shizuo, who stops just short of ramming into him. “Let's go get a drink somewhere warm.”

“Like, uh. Like a date?” Shizuo clearly has all the experience of a fumbling teenager, and it's so charming somehow, so unlike the Shizuo in Izaya's mind, and that's enough for Izaya to know this is really happening.

“Yes. Like a date.”

Shizuo smiles, and Izaya finds he doesn't mind that he can't recall what the other Shizuo felt like or smelled like, doesn't mind having to learn it all over again. All that matters is this: Shizuo walking behind Izaya, holding onto the back of his coat with a gentle hand, directing him to a bar down the street that has a special on half-priced bloody marys. Shizuo laughs, says it's perfect for a flea like Izaya, and Izaya savors every second of it, orders a bloody mary just to make Shizuo laugh harder.

In another universe, they never come near the truck, and life resumes as normal. In another, Izaya doesn't confront Shizuo that day, and Shizuo never knows Izaya is in the city. In another, Izaya is killed instantly, and in another still, he never wakes up, and Shizuo is consumed by grief he can't explain, and a confession he'll never voice.

But in this universe, Shizuo sits in a cozy booth across from Izaya, their feet touching under the table as they talk and laugh together until the bartender is closing down. They step outside, and Izaya turns to leave, is startled when Shizuo's hand grips the back of Izaya's coat and tugs him closer. Izaya laughs delightedly, and he tugs Shizuo along to Shinjuku while Shizuo tries very hard to look annoyed by it. They wind up sprawled together on Izaya’s couch, TV playing lowly in the background, and when they wake up curled into each other, Izaya smiles sleepily, lifts his hand to Shizuo’s cheek, and kisses Shizuo as easily as if he’s done so a thousand times, and will do so a thousand times more.

[blazehedgehog]

Thoughts on this current generation of consoles (PS5 and Series X/S)? How do you feel about them having SSDs? Do you think offering two versions of a console is a good business idea (physical/digital for Sony and Physical, more powerful/digital, less powerful for Microsoft)?

I mean, I don’t have either one, yet. I did not end up getting a stimulus payment like I was told that I would, and while I’m not exactly flat broke, I’m not in a position where I can drop $600 on a game console and feel comfortable about that.

SSDs are... whatever. It worries me that these consoles are always capturing video and what that’s arguably doing to hardware with a finite number of lifetime data reads and writes. Especially because, if I remember right, the PS5 SSD isn’t user servicable. If it dies, you have to pay a repair cost to send it to Sony. That’s aggravating.

I also still don’t really know if SSDs are so magical. I have a laptop with an SSD and it’s nice being able to turn the system on and have it booted in to Windows in under a minute flat, but it’s not, like, a hard-line requirement for operations, you know? Reducing loading times aren’t really something that’s high on my priority list.

Especially considering that, like...  I play a lot of Fortnite. I play on PS4, and I occasionally play with a friend who plays it on PC, where he has it installed to an SSD. His load times... aren’t really that much faster than mine. They can be, depending on the context, but in the case of an online game like Fortnite, you’re often waiting for the server to respond and send data. He loads back out to the menu way faster than I do, but when we’re connecting to a match, I think he’s only faster than I am by 2-5 seconds. Which to me is... pretty insignificant. Making it seem important feels like marketing smoke and mirrors to me, like how they kept “inventing” shaving razors with more blades.

Like, my PC doesn’t have an SSD in it yet, and does it bother me? Nope! Because I never turn my PC on and then instantly sit down at it. I wake up, turn the system on, and then go make breakfast and whatever. It takes my PC about 2-3 minutes to boot up, and it takes me a good 15-20 minutes to make breakfast, so by the time I’m ready to sit down everything’s been warmed up and ready to go for a very, very long time. Getting a faster load with an SSD isn’t going to offer a meaningful benefit to that experience.

I’m sure I’ll have friends pitching an SSD at me after reading that for other reasons, but I just feel like those people got spoiled by something they don’t actually need and now they’ve tricked themselves in to thinking they can’t live without it. I don’t even bat an eyelash at PS4 games with 20 second load times. Who cares? You aren’t going to be getting anything meaningful done in 20 seconds. “But it adds up” yeah but so does everything. You spent longer pooping than you did looking at loading screens. You’re not going to die waiting 22.8 seconds for a level to start, and it costs a lot of money to fix that minor inconvenience.

I don’t like the idea that they made the disc-based versions more expensive. That’s a very marketing way to nudge fence-sitters to adopt digital, when we’re having more and more examples of what going all-digital is going to do to our libraries of content. We lost hundreds of WiiWare titles and are about to lose hundreds (possibly even thousands) more when Sony locks down the PS3, PSP and PS Vita servers.

I get it, digital is convenient and takes up less space, but you aren’t as protected digitally. Did you know that I lost my entire library of 25+ Google Movies because of a change Google made to “Brand Accounts”?

There’s very little I can do about it. Because ten years ago Google+ made me define my personal account as a “Brand Account,” now Google gets to take away every movie and TV show I own through them. I can still technically watch them if I switch to my “real name” (which is the same account, but also a different account, for some reason), but then I can’t access my subscriptions feed or favorites list. 

And stupid garbage like this just happens with digital content, because there’s nothing you physically hold in your hands. You are at the whims of however they allow you to access what is ostensibly THEIR data, and that includes taking away your ability to access that data entirely. You can protest that, I guess, but that won’t change the fact that your ownership means very little to them.

And it’s only going to get worse from here. It won’t make them care any more than they already do. Just like charging for online features that are free on other platforms, they will find the minimum acceptable threshold for your frustration tolerance and they will still figure out how to make you do things their way. They will put you in a position where 99% of your library is digital and by the time there’s a problem you’re already too deep to back out.  And then it just becomes “an unfortunate symptom of business” that people blindly swallow because they’ve never known anything better.

So when I say, “there is no way I feel comfortable dropping $600 on a game console right now”, that’s because I will only buy these things if they include the disc drive because I will hold on to that thing for as long as I humanly can.

By which I mean: in 2028, when the Playstation 6 arrives, it’s going to be a tiny little Chromecast puck you put behind your TV and I will be laughed out of the room for wanting a disc drive. That already happens whenever I tell people I still have a disc drive in my PC that I need to replace. Physical media?! Everything should be ephemeral!

Needless to say, I don’t like it, and I don’t feel like there’s anything that can be done about it. I’m only considering buying the new consoles because I kind of have to, to stay “relevant.”

[dalegoldberg]

Will movie theaters be relevant in a post-pandemic world? It's now up to you.

On Monday, the beloved Arclight and Pacific Theaters announced they’re closing for good. ArcLight Cinemas is arguably Hollywood's most cherished theater and Pacific has been a mainstay in Los Angeles since 1946. The announcement of their closing shocked many as another casualty of the Covid-19 pandemic.

In the company announcement, they said "This was not the outcome anyone wanted, but despite a huge effort that exhausted all potential options, the company does not have a viable way forward." One can understand how a movie theater might go under in the middle of a pandemic but I did find it interesting that they felt there was truly no way forward.

One might've expected some members of the Hollywood elite to come clamoring forward with a bucket of cash to at least front the company long enough to sustain it through the pandemic so that it could reopen when the time was right.

Back in 2014, Kodak faced a similarly dire situation (for different reasons, obviously) and was ready to close its doors. That was until J.J. Abrams, Christopher Nolan, Quentin Tarantino, Judd Apatow and other filmmakers banded together to save the floundering company. Their shared love of film compelled them to save the dying medium and, thanks to those filmmakers and their studio backers, the company is still alive today.

But that hasn’t happened with these theaters. I'm not saying that can't happen, of course. The announcement just came this week so time will tell. I will say, however, it sounds like the company may have already exhausted their options (in light of the no "viable way forward" statement).

The death of ArcLight Cinemas and Pacific Theaters may not just signify another casualty of the pandemic but may actually be a sign of the times. Even prior to the pandemic many were wondering, amongst cord cutting and increasing interest in streaming content, how much longer would movie theaters stay relevant?

The pandemic has shifted the world in general, of course, and one of those big changes coming post-pandemic may be a world where movie theaters have a drastically different business model. Perhaps, one that makes them unrecognizable to us as we know them today.

Does that seem like too bold a claim? Perhaps. Let's just look at the state of the business now.

The state of the business pre-Covid

Prior to the pandemic, movie studios were beholden to the theaters to release their movies in theaters for a certain period of time. So if Warner Brothers wanted to release "Godzilla vs Kong" in theaters, they would have had to wait 90 days before releasing the film on Blu-Ray or to a streaming platform. There was a bit of flexibility on this when it came to digital rentals but otherwise 90 days was the standard. Now, movie studios did have the option of by-passing the theatrical exhibition altogether if they wanted and just going straight to people's homes. Why didn't they?

One reason might've been the Paramount Consent Decrees. The Consent Decrees date back to 1948 when the Supreme Court ruled that movie studios had to separate their distribution operations from their exhibition operations. Essentially, studios were barred from owning movie theaters as it was seen as a monopolistic practice and not fair to consumers. At the time, the only way you could see a movie was in a theater. Gradually, over time, of course, that changed and technology enabled us to watch movies at home. We got VHS, then DVD's, then Blu-Rays, then iTunes Movies, then Netflix and so on. But the theaters remained as a mainstay. Why?

I know many of my friends would argue it's because there's no better way to see a movie than in a theater. If you said that twenty years ago I would have agreed. But today, I'd say that's become largely subjective given the technology available at home. From a purely business oriented perspective, though, there's a host of little reasons theaters remained important such as films not being eligible for Oscar nominations without a theatrical release and, possibly, because studios worried that bypassing theaters would result in further regulations by the courts.

But mostly, it's because we, the audience, were accustomed to theaters. It gave a film legitimacy when it was presented in a theater. It used to be that if a movie went “straight to home video” it was considered cheap and probably low budget. Because of that, even though the studios were giving up 50% of their revenue to the theaters, their gross still was greater than what home distribution netted them in the initial release window.

Even after the invention of Blu-Rays and iTunes Movies, studios were still sending movies to theaters (1) because it was a huge source of revenue and (2) because it helped market the movie. The movie’s success at the box office gave us a reason to want that movie at home.

A shift in Public perceptions

There's a growing number of people that no longer think that way. If a movie goes to streaming now (the new home video), we no longer assume the movie is cheap or low budget. The content on streaming is just as good as the stuff we're seeing in theaters. There’s been a massive shift in our perception of what great “cinema” is. Yeah, you might still wanna' see some things in theaters but it doesn’t cheapen the movie for you if you don't.

And that’s a big problem for theaters. The leverage they’ve had over the studios up till now has been the Consent Decrees and our perception of what great cinema is. Significant, no doubt, but those two things have changed. In August of last year, the Paramount Consent Decrees were terminated with a two-year sunset period on certain aspects of the Decrees all but ensuring that studios could now vertically integrate if they wanted to. Or just bypass the theaters altogether - as some studios already have been experimenting with.

Even at the start of the pandemic, many movies were removed from theaters and sent straight to streaming with studios reporting that the revenue gained from VOD and online rentals rivaled the profit gained from theatrical distribution. As various studios like Paramount and Warner Brothers enter the streaming game alongside Disney (Disney Plus, Hulu) and Netflix, they too are experimenting. As you may have heard, Warner Bros. is releasing all their movies this year on their streaming platform HBOMax on the same day the films are released in theaters (a practice known as "day and date"). No doubt, the bean counters at Warner Bros. will be looking to see if this is a practice that should stay. It’d be fair to say that these experiments are not true representations of reality given the state of the world we’re testing this new distribution model with. But it is changing our perception of how important movie theaters are.

Studios are altering the deal

During the pandemic, theaters have been brought to their knees and have been forced to renegotiate certain terms with the studios including the release window between theatrical and home distribution. Most studios now have negotiated a home release date that comes just 17 days after the movie debuts in theaters - far shorter than the original 90 days.

This, of course, can be argued to just be a by-product of the pandemic. Theaters don't have leverage now but once the pandemic is over they will and they'll renegotiate. Right?

That really hinges on whether or not audiences still think a movie has more value if it was presented in a theater before they got to see it at home. Does it enhance the movie for me if it gets shown in a theater or am I just as interested (or maybe even more interested) in seeing it if it is sent straight to my home?

Other big changes are happening

There's other factors to consider as well. One might be the massive shift of homeowners into the suburbs and away from the city during the pandemic. Many employers are making it possible to work from home (a trend that will likely continue post-pandemic as the internet improves and more businesses see the benefits of a remote workforce) resulting in a mass exodus from cities to suburbs. Living in the suburbs means you don’t have the same pull of massive audiences in large gatherings the way you used to. We’re also investing more in our homes to make them enjoyable places to not only live but play as well. It’s a shift in our culture.

Another factor is that our perception of long form content has changed. Episodic television used to be where big movie stars went to end their careers after a career starring in movies. Now, it’s the reverse. A lot of stars are starting in television rather than finishing there because we (the audience) love binging on serialized content and when we’re not binging episodes we’re watching four hour movies (The Irishman, Zack Snyder's Justice League). Those experiences don’t work well in theaters where you’re stuck sitting in the same place and can’t hit the pause button.

Ultimately, the biggest factor might be what it usually comes down to - money. Before the pandemic audiences were already lamenting about the cost of movie tickets. A single afternoon of me taking my wife and kids to see the latest Disney movie in a theater could cost me $50 - $60 just for admission (not to mention the cost of food and drinks). But during the pandemic I was able to rent “Mulan” for $30 from comfort of my own home. Or, if I wanted, I could just wait three months and then see it as part of my regular Disney Plus subscription (which I was already paying for anyways so I could watch “The Mandalorian”).

As things open back up, many people are not necessarily swimming in money and, while I think the Covid relief packages have probably helped, a lot of people are still hurting and will be looking for any which way to save money. It seems unlikely that theaters will be able to lower their costs at this point given the need to recoup their losses from the pandemic and the probable need to make new investments in their facilities to stay competitive. They will need to get creative to show real value to audiences that might be reluctant to rush back in to theaters.

So what will happen to theaters post-pandemic?

For those of you worried I’m predicting doomsday for theaters - relax. I think theaters are probably here to stay regardless of what happens. They’re too much a part of what movies are to simply disappear. That said, they are a business and, currently, a failing one. What they look like post-pandemic doesn’t look great, from my perspective, unless the business model changes.

One possible scenario is that theaters become like playhouses or music festivals. In other words, they’ll still exist but in fewer quantities and will become more niche, featuring elevated experiences centered around tentpole movie properties which audiences are willing to pay a premium for (think “Top Gun: Maverick” or “Godzilla vs Kong”). I can see this form of adaptation working well in everyone’s favor.

Another possibility is that the studios buy out the movie theaters. The termination of the consent decrees has made that a real possibility. And then, once they’ve purchased them, build brand experiences centered around their properties. Something like miniature Disney Lands. They would most likely close a significant number of locations leaving only the flagships they felt would bring in a large audience and use them to promote the movies on their slate. A company like Disney with a large library of films could also use the theaters as a means of re-presenting old films from their library, borrowing a tactic from LucasFilm, and refresh old content to make it new again for theatrical. In essense, the net effect would be the same as in the first scenario: fewer theaters, more niche experiences.

I say this because it is somewhat unclear, to me at least, how the current model can persist if studios own theaters. Yes, they’d control theatrical distribution but they’d likely only be purchasing a theater to distribute their own movies. Would a company like Paramount, who’s only releasing seven movies this year, see the value of owning a theater chain? Even Disney’s slate only consists of 14 movies. To make the business viable (at least as it exists now), they would have to present movies from other studios. Would one studio trust that the studio in ownership of the theater was giving them a fair number of screens for presentation? It seems untenable under the current model.

What happens next is really up to you

The biggest change from the pandemic is that we as audiences have changed the way we look at movies. We’re ok with watching movies at home and, thus, the leverage theaters have to negotiate longer release windows between theatrical and home distribution has all but disappeared. The artificial pillars that made theaters a necessity are all but gone. And yes, the Oscars will likely still require that movies be released in theaters to be eligible for nomination but the standards of what a "theatrical release" means do not require as vast a distribution as you might think (see page 2, sub-section D of the General Entry rules). Plus, let's be honest - not all movies are meant to be Oscar contenders.

So really, the only thing to keep theaters relevant now is you - the audience. My prediction is that we’ll initially see some high demand for theaters as cities are re-opened and we try to return to our regular lives. But after we get back to a sense of normalcy (whatever that means in the future) we’ll see how much audiences really want to keep paying $20 per ticket to see a movie when they could just pay $30 once to rent it at home with the entire family or binge the new hot show on Netflix / Amazon / Apple TV/ Paramount Plus / Disney Plus / Hulu / Peacock / whatever else is out there.

At that point, the studios will do some math and if the profit they’re making from streaming outweighs the profit from the box office, theaters won’t have much of a leg to stand on. That is, unless audiences continue to demand theaters be a relevant part of the movie watching experience. Without considerable innovation on behalf of the theaters, though, I question how likely that is to happen.