#It isn't even relevant to how I want to use my major

[anyoldfandom]

If I had a nickle for every time I had to leave class early because a tescher threw a triggering topic on the class without actually thinking of how it might impact students I'd have two nickles. Which isn't a lot but fucked up it happened twice.

[ayeforscotland]

What is Dataflow?

This post is inspired by another post about the Crowd Strike IT disaster and a bunch of people being interested in what I mean by Dataflow. Dataflow is my absolute jam and I'm happy to answer as many questions as you like on it. I even put referential pictures in like I'm writing an article, what fun!

I'll probably split this into multiple parts because it'll be a huge post otherwise but here we go!

A Brief History

Our world is dependent on the flow of data. It exists in almost every aspect of our lives and has done so arguably for hundreds if not thousands of years.

At the end of the day, the flow of data is the flow of knowledge and information. Normally most of us refer to data in the context of computing technology (our phones, PCs, tablets etc) but, if we want to get historical about it, the invention of writing and the invention of the Printing Press were great leaps forward in how we increased the flow of information.

Modern Day IT exists for one reason - To support the flow of data.

Whether it's buying something at a shop, sitting staring at an excel sheet at work, or watching Netflix - All of the technology you interact with is to support the flow of data.

Understanding and managing the flow of data is as important to getting us to where we are right now as when we first learned to control and manage water to provide irrigation for early farming and settlement.

Engineering Rigor

When the majority of us turn on the tap to have a drink or take a shower, we expect water to come out. We trust that the water is clean, and we trust that our homes can receive a steady supply of water.

Most of us trust our central heating (insert boiler joke here) and the plugs/sockets in our homes to provide gas and electricity. The reason we trust all of these flows is because there's been rigorous engineering standards built up over decades and centuries.

For example, Scottish Water will understand every component part that makes up their water pipelines. Those pipes, valves, fitting etc will comply with a national, or in some cases international, standard. These companies have diagrams that clearly map all of this out, mostly because they have to legally but also because it also vital for disaster recovery and other compliance issues.

Modern IT

And this is where modern day IT has problems. I'm not saying that modern day tech is a pile of shit. We all have great phones, our PCs can play good games, but it's one thing to craft well-designed products and another thing entirely to think about they all work together.

Because that is what's happened over the past few decades of IT. Organisations have piled on the latest plug-and-play technology (Software or Hardware) and they've built up complex legacy systems that no one really knows how they all work together. They've lost track of how data flows across their organisation which makes the work of cybersecurity, disaster recovery, compliance and general business transformation teams a nightmare.

Some of these systems are entirely dependent on other systems to operate. But that dependency isn't documented. The vast majority of digital transformation projects fail because they get halfway through and realise they hadn't factored in a system that they thought was nothing but was vital to the organisation running.

And this isn't just for-profit organisations, this is the health services, this is national infrastructure, it's everyone.

There's not yet a single standard that says "This is how organisations should control, manage and govern their flows of data."

Why is that relevant to the companies that were affected by Crowd Strike? Would it have stopped it?

Maybe, maybe not. But considering the global impact, it doesn't look like many organisations were prepared for the possibility of a huge chunk of their IT infrastructure going down.

Understanding dataflows help with the preparation for events like this, so organisations can move to mitigate them, and also the recovery side when they do happen. Organisations need to understand which systems are a priority to get back operational and which can be left.

The problem I'm seeing from a lot of organisations at the moment is that they don't know which systems to recover first, and are losing money and reputation while they fight to get things back online. A lot of them are just winging it.

Conclusion of Part 1

Next time I can totally go into diagramming if any of you are interested in that.

How can any organisation actually map their dataflow and what things need to be considered to do so. It'll come across like common sense, but that's why an actual standard is so desperately needed!

[cy-cyborg]

Tips for wring amputees: its ok if your amputee can't repair their own prosthetics

There's a trope in fiction for amputees to always be these mechanical geniuses who can make and repair their own prosthetics, endlessly tinkering away and improving them. This isn't a particularly trope, and i dont think its harmful or anything, but in reality, prosthetics are REALLY, REALLY complicated, and a lot of amputees cant do their own repairs. And thats ok. Like, prosthetic creation and repair is way, way harder than I think people expect. Well outside the skillset of your standard mechanic, handy man or craftsperson.

People who make and repair prosthetics are called prosthetists. To become a prosthetist, most countries around the world today require you to have completed a bachelor's degree in specifically in prosthetics and orthotics, which covers not only how to make a prosthetics (and orthodics) but a great deal of medical knowledge, physics, how different forces impact "non-standard" bodies, the additional biological wear-and-tear that comes with being an amputee and so much more. This will qualify you to do the job of fitting/making the prosthetic socket (the part that attaches to your body) and putting premade components together to make a functioning device. On top of this, many prosthetists are also expected to have artistic skills, sewing skills, good physical strength and dexterity, IT skills, and more recently, knowledge of 3D modelling and printing.

You want to make all the high-tech components the prosthetists put together to make the full prosthetic? The requirements for that vary country to country, but most will require at least some level study in the field of engineering and/or medicine, on top of what was already required for the prosthetics course.

The reason for all this is because even "basic" prosthetics are extremely finicky, and messing up one thing will have a domino effect on the rest of the body, especially in more complicated prosthetics. It can also result in people getting severally injured if anything is even slightly off. many leg amputees for example end up with spinal issues due to extremely minor issues with their prosthetic that weren't caught until years later, and by then the damage had been done.

Some amputees do learn to do basic repairs. This is most common in places like the US, where a visit to the prosthetist can cost hundred to thousands of dollars (depending on your insurance), but it's also quite common in rural parts of countries like Australia, where cost isn't an issue but access is due to vast distances between major cities. I was personally in this category; as a kid, my nearest prosthetist was 6 hours away. My prosthetist was able to teach my dad, who later taught me, how to do some of the simple repairs, but we still needed to go in every few weeks for the more complex stuff (Kids prosthetic need more adjusting than adults because they're still growing. Also I was rough on my prosthetics and broke them a lot lol).

But even after being taught how to do repairs and having my prosthetics for 20+ years, I only ever did these sorts of repairs to my below-knee prosthetic. I will not do any repairs of any kind to my above knee leg, which is much more technologically complex. Every time I tried, I made it worse to the point where the leg was unusable. I just leave those repairs to the guy who went to university to learn how to do it, and sometimes even he needs to send it off to someone with even more specialist knowledge when it's really badly messed up lol. Last time that happened Australia post lost the package. Not really relevant to this post, I just find the idea of it being sent to the wrong place by accident hilarious, it was one of my more realistic legs too so someone probably had a heart attack when they opened that package lmao.

Anyway, back on track lol.

This isn't even touching on the fact that on some more advanced prosthetics, many features are actually locked behind a security barrier only prosthetists can access. My prosthetic knee has an app on my phone I can pair it to, that allows me to change certain settings and swap between certain modes for different activities that tell the leg to change its behaviour depending on what I'm doing (e.g. a mode for running, a mode for cycling etc). but most of the more in-depth settings I can't access, only my prosthetist can, and he can only gain access to those settings with a security key given to him by the manufacturing company that requires him to provide proof of his credentials to receive it. I don't really agree with this btw, something about being locked out of my own leg's settings makes me feel a bit of an ick, but it's set up like this because people used to be able to access these settings and they would mess with things to the point their leg was virtually unusable. Because altering one setting had a domino effect on all the others, and a lot of folks weren't really paying attention to what they were messing with, all their prosthetists could do was factory reset the whole leg, which causes some issues too. Prosthetic arms are often similarly complex, as I understand it and have similar security barriers in place for more advanced arms. I don't know for sure though, so take that with a grain of salt.

All this to say these are incredibly delicate, finicky and complex pieces of equipment. There's nothing wrong with having a techy amputee character who can do their own repairs, but in reality, that is pretty rare, and its ok to have your character need to see a prosthetist or someone more knowledgeable than them. It's a part of the amputee experience I don't see reflected very often in media. In fact, the only examples I can think of in fiction (meaning not stories based on real people) where this is reflected are Full metal alchemist.

technically I think Subnautica Below Zero also mentions prosthetists are a thing in that world, but its a very "blink and you'll miss it" kind of thing...in fact I did miss it until my last playthrough lol.

[writer-logbook]

How to get back into writing: a 5-steps guide

As someone who hasn't written anything in a decade, this is what I did to get back into writing seriously.

Identify which archetype of writer fits me better. You may have heard George R.R. Martin saying there are two types of writers: gardeners and architects. Whether you believe in that statement or not isn't relevant per se, but the actual meaning behind that point is that you need to get to know yourself as a writer, how you work, what you need, etc., so you can adapt your environment to achieve your goals. Speaking of which…Gentle reminder : you're a person not a robot. You are allowed to work the way you want to, and not to follow whatever pieces of advice that are linked to these archetypes.

Set a realistic word count/session I can stick to over the long term. When you're a 9-6 office employee, it's not always easy to find time to write and sometime our day at work got the very best of us. Having that in mind, I set my word count up to 200-500 words per session or 1 chapter per week (they're rather small in my case). Gentle reminder : babysteps are better than no-step at all.

If I'm not writing, fine, I'll do some research or anything else. Your story will always require something from you. When I'm not in the mood for writing, there are two options : forcing myself or doing what I call para-writing. For instance it's : reading articles or books about improving my writing style, improving my worldbuilding, drawing a map of my city etc. This are not things that would appear in the novel but it would guide me throughout the process the way a walking-stick would do for an injured man. Gentle reminder : you always find something useful to do but at the end of the day, you still have to write.

Have a general idea of what I want to tell. I won't lie, I've plotted my entire novel from the very beginning to the very end, which means I know exactly what to write and when. If you're against having a defined plot, I'm no one to judge, but having at least the key events or the major points will definitely help you. Like a lighthouse, it will help you navigate through the mists of confusion or hesitation. Gentle reminder : It's better to know where to go even if you end up losing yourself along the journey. Having the map doesn't mean you have to follow it, but rather when you can allow yourself to take a step to the side.

Write something I enjoy. A bit cliché I admit, but it's the best advice I could give. You'll spend hours, days, weeks - even years !- on that story so better buckle up to something you really want to write. Otherwise the risk is to abandon that hard-work you've done halfway through the process. No one needs that frustration and that self-doubting questionnings. No one. Not you. Not even me. Gentle reminder : it's okay to want readers and reviews but I promise you, your writing will be really different on something you trully want to share...Remember how pissful it was to write an essay for class you didn't want to ?

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Errors, "Errors," and Sci Fi: The Nail Gun Gray Zone

I have more thoughts on errors in sci fi, specifically what does and does not count as an error. So I made a graph.

I'm a firm believer that at some point, your story will just be better if you bend certain rules of reality. A story with 100% realistic gun battles will be impossible for audiences to follow. One with ultra-realistic dialog will be boring and impossible to follow.

HOWEVER. Ice floats in water. Residents of now-Phoenix in the 1700s might've not known that, but it's hard to imagine anyone alive today who hasn't at minimum seen an image of a drink with ice in it. So GI Joe (2009) hinging a major plot point on a block of ice sinking in liquid water is widely regarded as silly and world-breaking. Same goes for The Strangers (2008) making a character unable to use her phone while it's plugged in and charging. Even in 2008, a solid majority of U.S. moviegoers owned cell phones and regularly used them as they were plugged in. Errors. Firmly.

But on the opposite end of the spectrum, you have "errors" that only bug a small subset of your audience with relevant expertise. You can always count on some of that subset to take to Reddit and whine pedantically about a 10-round gun firing 11 rounds, but I doubt those count as errors. My personal example is the lack of a character named Surprise in Inside Out — I've studied and taught Paul Ekman's theories, so to me the fact that they included only 5 of his 6 "universal" affects is always going to look weird. But I know that's less an error than a pet peeve, because there wouldn't be much for the character Surprise to do that isn't taken up by Fear or Joy. (The sequel also has a Surprise-ish and a Contempt-ish character, so there's that.) Same goes for the water main not being pressurized correctly in Batman Begins — I'll take city planners' word for it that Scarecrow's plan wouldn't work, but COME ON. It's a sci fi movie about a furry who makes a living punching aliens. If you want realism, watch a documentary.

That said. There's also that middle zone. What I call the Nail Gun Gray Zone, because it really is hard to tell how much some errors are obscure and piddly, how much they're mainstream and obvious. Because. Nail guns can't shoot nails. They're not projectile weapons. Not unless the story takes the time to show a character modifying the tool to override the fact that it has to be pressed flush against a board before it will fire. BUT. If you told me "99% of modern Americans know that!" I'd believe you. If you told me "only professional contractors know that!" I'd believe you. That poll clarified basically nothing — roughly 25% of respondents had used a nail gun, ~25% didn't know much about them, and ~50% had only seen one used. (I didn't ask "do you know that a nail gun can't be used as a projectile weapon" because then anyone who read the question should by definition answer "yes.")

Anyway, I think that a lot of online arguments about errors/"errors" in sci fi can be captured by the Nail Gun Gray Zone. Most of us can agree that only pedantic blowhards would say that the lack of Surprise ruins Inside Out, and most of us can agree that it'd be nice if The Strangers had simply broken Kristen's phone. Nail guns? One person's "oh come on, that looks ridiculous!" is another person's "it's called a nail gun, right? so why not use it like a gun?" and I don't think doing more polls will resolve it one way or another.

[oftenderweapons]

In Your Calvin's | JJK

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 9.6k

Genre: smut, fluff, pwp, established relationship

Rating: 18+ Minors, do not interact

Synopsis: Being Jeon Jeongguk's girlfriend is a great honour, but it comes with great responsibilities. When the commercial celebrating your boyfriend (very secret boyfriend) starts playing on everyone's and their mother's phones, it's time you face what it means to be loved by the most wanted idol of them all.

Warnings: Jealousy and general possessiveness. Swearing. Powerplay, switch!reader, switch!jk. Masochist!jk (?). Marking (hickey, writing on body with a pen), hair pulling (male receiving), edging (male receiving), spanking (male and female receiving). Teasing. Mild degradation. Dry humping. A very mild boobjob. Breast worship. Unprotected foreplay, oral sex (female receiving; brief male receiving), unprotected sex (be smarter, kids), rough sex. Mentions of cockring.

One last thing: 1. this was edited at 3am, please bear with me. 2. Sidenote: I try to be as neutral as possible with the way I describe the girls' appearance, however I wanted to specify that in this fic, I mention Candy having long, straight hair (and huge badonkers, but that's kinda canon by now LOL). It's just a brief mention, absolutely nothing major and holds no relevance to the fic, you might not even notice it; but still, I wanted to make sure I thought about my curly haired goddesses, and short haired queens, (or a combo of both heart eyes) and that I apologise for making this fic just a pinch less immersive for you. (Is this the right moment to apologise to small boobs princesses too? ily sisters, itty bitty titty committee 5evah)

Here's my masterlist, lemme just disappear very quickly. Enjoy 💜✨

You knew Jeongguk had a gig with Calvin Klein. You've known it for months. You've seen him cut calories and hit the gym and dehydrate for a couple days before the shoot because he explained to you how muscle definition works, and crucial to showing a great slab of abs is being basically as dry as a breadstick, to the point of being cranky because you have drunk three glasses of water in the last forty-eight hours. 

Which all means, you knew his stomach would be quite surely showing.

And yet your world still stops once you're merrily sitting on your train back home and his half undressed form appears on the screen on your phone. 

At first you slam your phone shut, mostly because you're used to hiding your boyfriend away and that's the reaction you usually have when you open one of his flirty pics from your chat. 

Next, you realise you weren't on your private chat, and you weren't even looking at pictures in your phone gallery. 

You were absentmindedly scrolling. On Instagram. 

You unlock your phone again, and right there you're confronted with the very naked truth. 

Jeongguk. Is basically naked. On your phone. And it's for the entire world to see. 

Your brain slows down, as if the earth axis is tipping over a little in the opposite way. 

Something inside you snaps around the third time the video plays in front of your unseeing eyes. To anyone looking at you, you could be just an obsessed fan taking a close look at the fine piece of art, but your eyes are unfocused, your mind too deep in thought to register any stimulus from the external world. 

The vibration from the phone awakens you from your state of trance. 

“Candy, baby,” says the adorable lover boy calling you. “Have you seen it already?”

Your lips are sealed, and you can't quite bring yourself to speak, you don't know why. 

“I'm on my way back home.” You say, and the words feel like cracking a glow stick in your chest. 

“But did you see it?” His voice isn't as bright now. 

“I'm coming home.” You repeat. 

He's silent for a few seconds, and you can hear him sigh. “Okay.” 

“He's so insanely hot,” you overhear a girl sitting across from you comment. 

“I want to run my palms down the sides of his waist,” says her friend. 

You stare at them and you know you must look like a woman possessed right now, but you still allow yourself to incinerate them with a glare, as if your eyes could turn into flamethrowers. 

“Candy?” 

“I'll be home in ten.” And you close the call. 

On the way back home, you hear more people talk. More girls fawn. More women zoom in. 

On the escalator, you notice a woman fanning herself while staring at the screen. Another one even crosses herself as the ad from your boyfriend reruns on her phone screen. 

Every step on your way home is utter agony, and once you step over the threshold, you're not sure what you're going to do.

Jeongguk is in the kitchen in a sleeveless top, tattoos out, piercings glowing in the gentle light of the living room. And his hair is fluffy, which means he's probably just done blow drying it after taking a shower. 

The fact that the scent of his body lotion is still sharp gives you further indication of how recent that shower must be. 

“Hey,” he says, turning towards you with a bunny grin, which immediately dims once he sees your expression. “Oh. Bad day?” 

You bite your lip and stare at him a fair bit. Then, a bit more. 

“Candy, love.” 

You don't know what to do with him. Is he yours? Is he really yours? 

How come you come home to him making dinner, and being freshly showered, and being so domestic? How come you're living in his apartment, knowing his pass code, having an ID card for his apartment complex and his studio at HYBE? How come he gives you a copy of his schedule and talks about you over the phone on his weekly call to his grandmother and brings you to his parents' house? How come you go on trips together and you're the emergency contact to his fur babies and you make love two to four times a week? How come he's brought you to the town he grew up in and loved you down in the place where he lost his virginity because, "I wish it had been you since the very first time"? 

Who is this man? 

Is he Jungkook from Bangtan Sonyeondan? Or is he Jeon Jeongguk, your very own quiet, shy, reserved lover boy? 

“You're scaring me,” he whispers, putting down his wooden spoon and taking a few steps to stand in front of you. 

“Why me?” you ask, staring at his collarbones, too scared to look into his eyes. 

“What do you mean?” he asks back, sheepish. 

This time your eyes meet his. “Why me? Of all the women out there, why me?” You look down, taking in just how average you feel, every imperfection magnified in your eyes, now that you have so many people you're comparing yourself with, and competing with. 

“Candy—” He starts. 

“Everyone, everyone out there is literally foaming at the mouth at that commercial, and I'm here? I come home to you? I make love to you almost every night?” You pause and laugh bitterly at him. “I'm a fucking fraud.” 

He shakes his head and moves closer, grabbing your wrists. “A fraud, you say?” He tuts in disappointment, places your hands on his waist. “You're not a fraud, ____, you're my soulmate.” He leaves your hands once he feels them clutch at his narrow waist. 

Possessiveness hits you all of a sudden, and it is only mildly ebbed by his hands landing at the top of your ass. 

“I love you, and I make love to you because it's a fucking dream. You're a fucking dream, and I'm so upset that you don't see it.”

You're jealous. You're simply jealous. It's human and it's healthy to be moderately jealous. After all the comments you heard and read, it's fair to be jealous. 

“I reckon you saw the commercial.” 

“I saw the commercial and everyone's reaction to it,” you comment, slightly acidic. 

Jeongguk bends to place a kiss below your earlobe. “Are you angry?” 

No. Not just anger.

Your hands mimic his and crawl to his lower back, toying with the hemline of his underwear. “I'm not mad.” I'm disgustingly jealous and I don't like them having more of what's mine. They already have too much, they've always wanted too much and you always give it to them and I'm furious that it's not mine alone. 

Jeongguk wears a mischievous smile as he makes you take several small steps back, the back of your legs hitting the kitchen counter. “Do you like it?” 

You click your tongue and shake your head. “No.” 

The reply startles him, and he feels his mood dim. Did he—

“I'm not a jealous person, but this… God, this hits a new level,” you finally admit. “They already drool over you quite enough, and now they even have a video of you shirtless. How would I not be jealous!? Half the girls would have snapped your neck. If Yoongi ever did this, Kitten would have his balls dangling from her Mercedes keychain. I don't even know how Lace and Princess are handling their boyfriends naked on everyone's phone. If I were Tae I would seek political asylum in Greenland. Or maybe Tibet.” You take a large mouthful of oxygen before you launch yourself in another tirade. 

“Everyone's talking about grabbing your waist, licking your abs, tugging at your hair and shit and hi! I'm here! I'm the girlfriend! Sorry I exist! WHAT THE FUCK!?” 

Jeongguk laughs and lowers himself to your chest, kissing where your heartbeat echoes like a crazed war drum. 

“It's not fun!” you complain, significantly agitated. 

“Mh.” He hums as he moves aside the hem of your shirt, meeting the soft, smooth skin of your chest. “It was supposed to come out on your birthday, that's why's a bit more racy,” he explains more patiently. “But they decided to release it early.” He kisses a tender spot and your left knee tingles a little. “It was supposed to be a slightly too public boudoir shoot. But secretly it was just yours.” Jeongguk finds the cup of your bra and stares up at you as his fingers reach the hem and slide the fabric aside. “I was thinking of you when I made it.” 

And once his mouth wraps around your nipple, your right knee starts tingling too. 

“Must admit I had to push the limits a lot to finally make you jealous,” he purrs once he is done with the licking, sucking motion of his mouth around your tender flesh. “But I'm sorry I crossed the line.” 

What line? You think, your brain already hazy. No sharp line exists in the world you’re currently in. Just the loving, plush hills of Jeongguk's lips, the slippery slopes of his waistline, the sinuous curves of his hip bones leading you to his pelvis, and the soft curls of his luscious dark locks. No crossed borders, only gentle waves licking the shore, water and land embracing one the other. 

“Remind me who's the boss here, Candy,” he says, and you know he's playing you right now. “Remind me where I belong.” His mouth is at your ear as he whispers, “Show me who owns me.” 

The tingles are spreading as his fingers grab at your ass, his lips connecting with your jaw. “Talk to me, Candy.”

You’re not sure you can articulate words at this moment. Talking isn’t as easy as everyone makes it seem. 

His eyes connect with yours and he can tell you’re staring at his lips by the poetic detail of your lashes lowered over your cheekbone. 

It makes him chuckle, very gently, that he has all these details of you he adores, and that you have the audacity of asking him why he picked you, and why he keeps choosing you over and over. 

He loves you, his family loves you, his dogs love you. This is the way it’s supposed to be. 

His finger reaches underneath your chin, forcing your eyes to actually meet his. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he purrs, and as your lashes dart up, he shakes his head a little, loving the way you arch up a fraction, as if pulled towards him. “There she is, beautiful.”

You feel completely neutralised. Disarmed. All the storms brewing over you a minute ago are forgotten as soon as his sweet smile shines like sunlight above you. 

His hand combs your hair back, cupping your cheek and landing a kiss on your temple. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod. 

“What mood are we in?” You’ve asked him this question thousands of times since the two of you became serious, ever since he opened up about feeling too closed off to make a relationship work; and now, the fact that it was such a solid, valid ritual in your dynamics made it natural for him to ask too. “You need to talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I’m better. I…”

“Tell me what you want.”

You stare at him, at his shoulders, at his biceps, you trace his tattoo with your fingertip, and he looks closely at your finger, at it drawing swirls and circles on his skin. 

“Pick me up,” you say softly. 

And he does, immediately. His biceps flex and he grunts a little, not at the weight, but just because he knows the sound can make your toes curl, and he likes that a lot. His hands are wrapped around the back of your thighs, then they adjust to your bottom. 

“Next? Counter? Bed? Shower?”

You kiss him. Impatient, and needy, you kiss him. 

He opens up for you without hesitation, moaning at the sweet invasion of your tongue in his mouth. God, he loves it. It makes him melt, to feel your tongue slip against his, moving wet and sloppy, your lips plush and hot pressed up against him. He loves kissing you. Actually, he loves making out with you. He’s pretty sure he could come of that alone, and he tries to remind himself you have to give that a try. Another day. 

He places you onto the counter because he fears his knees might give out on him. And once he has you there it means his hands can roam all over you and grab your chest and toy with—

“No touching,” you snap at him, gripping his wrists and pulling his hands behind his back. 

His eyes go wide at the shift in pace, but he obeys. He also feels like he's awakening from a dream only to find out reality can be so much better. 

You dig your hands in his hair and he hisses a little as you tug gently, but still roughly. You think of all the people who wish they could do just so as you stare into his eyes, seeing just how turned on he gets as you manhandle him. 

You lean towards him and you notice him trying to kiss you, but you tug at his hair harder, holding him in place as the heat of your exhale fans over his parted lips and his chin. 

“You want me to own you?” you ask him, watching his muscles twitch as he fights the urge to grab you and put you in place. 

He nods. “Do me all the things no one else can.” He has a roguish smile as he adds, “Do me everything they won't ever, ever do to me.” And he is god of deception when he finally tips you over the edge. “Do me everything I want just from you, and you alone.” 

You watch him intently, then tug at his hair so that his head is angled upwards, throat vulnerable and exposed. 

He's staring at you with a mischievous glint in his expression, a walking temptation, and you can almost hear him say it, 'come on, do it'. And you do it. 

You bend forward and sink your teeth in his flesh, the tender skin caving in as your bite marks him softly before your cheeks move into a suctioning motion that you know will turn into a bruise. It just pleases you so. 

“Take a step back,” you order as soon as you're happy with the hickey. “Take off your shirt.” 

And he winks before he does. You watch the plain of his chest, the valley in between his pectorals leading you down to his navel. 

“I hope you're wearing your Calvin's,” you tease with a cocked eyebrow. 

He smirks. “Always in my Calvin's.” 

You snicker and shake your head. “Take off your pants.”

His forehead scrunches up in surprise, but he eventually obeys. 

He's standing in a pair of socks and his white boxer briefs. At least he didn't lie, they are Calvin Klein. 

“Do you want—” 

“The Calvin's stay on,” you sentence, then you descend from the counter. “Head over to the bedroom. I'll come over in a minute.” 

He stares at you, flabbergasted. 

“Oh, and I almost forgot: don't touch yourself. Settle down, hands on the headboard and wait pretty.” 

He blinks, unsure of where this is going to end or where it came from, but so blazingly grateful for it. 

“Okay.” 

You give him a quick once-over as you stand in front of each other. His abs are toned and defined, but now less alarmingly than the days before the shoot. His thighs are strong and you love how the material from the boxers wraps around them comfortably and smoothly. 

You dare stare at his crotch, at the way the fabric traces the curve of his length, so perfectly long and so perfectly thick.

You allow your fingertips to trace the curve of his spine, so lightly that it causes him to close his eyes, his head inched to the side as he shivers in pleasure. 

“Can I be rough with you?” you ask him, your hand reaching the small of his back and cupping the curve of his ass. 

He moves his hands on you the exact same way you did. “Maybe I like pain,” he suggests, and from the collection of tattoos and piercings, but mostly from the supercut of memories of him getting bitten, spanked and scratched by you, you’re reminded that you’re not dealing with the edited version of him he has promoted publicly. 

This is your boyfriend. Jeongguk. Your Jeongguk. 

You sink your nails into the flesh of his ass, and he hisses but smiles, pulling you closer, swaying his hips to tease your crotch with his. “Go get ready, babyboy,” you croon.

He hums invitingly and kisses your neck, trying to get you to move with him, but you’ve made up your mind already. 

“Go,” you repeat.

He pouts and grabs your hips. “Come on, what are you trying to do?” he asks, his brow furrowed, his eyes dark and wide and imploring for you to just follow him and spare him whatever cruel surprise you want to use against him.

You grab his wrists, making him unclasp his hands. “Go and you’ll find out.”

He hesitates and then he faces away, still reluctant, turning around a couple times on his way, checking if you’re following him — perhaps, maybe, hopefully…

Yet, you don’t move, not until he turns the corner to the bedroom. And then you make your way over, slow, unbothered. 

And you close the door on him. 

You head to the bathroom, wash up quickly, and equally quickly you cover yourself in his favourite lotion, taking special care of your neck and chest. Once properly buttered up and covered in nothing but pretty Calvin undies and his favourite Calvin jeans jacket, you’re ready to attack. But you stare at yourself in the mirror, and you feel like there’s still something you could do to give him a heart attack…

Oh, that, you think. And you get to work. 

Apparently he has behaved, as you find him lounging in bed, with his boxers still on, his hands laced behind the crown of his head, a fine slab of abs in full glow from the dark amber hue coming from his led lights. 

“Are we on a sunset gold kinda vibe— Holy shit.” He didn’t manage to sound as cool and aloof as he’d tried to be once his eyes landed on you. 

He wished he could take a picture of you and spread it across town, just so he could stare at it while waiting for a bus, or hanging out at Hongdae with his friends, and excitedly point at it while tipsy to holler “that’s my fucking girlfriend, that fine piece of ass fucking owns me”. 

He wished he could put you on an album cover and fill it with all the insane stuff you do to his heart and his mind and his body. How his heartbeat does a little hiccup thing when he sees you first thing in the morning, and how he’s spent every wish on fallen eyelashes over you, and making you happy, and building you a house and having fireworks for your wedding night, and having all his fans seeing just how incredibly fantastic you are to him, how you make him so happy and deliriously smitten and barely coherent when it comes to talking about you, and just… He just wants everyone to love you half as much as he does. 

And maybe for you to be only ever in love with him, so he doesn’t risk anyone thirsting for you enough to steal you from him. 

“What were you saying about golden lights?” you ask, climbing on the bed, your hand modestly holding the lapels of his jeans jacket together — it’s not time to destroy him yet. 

“I— I…” He tries to sit up, but you push him back where he belongs with a well-placed hand pressed to the middle of his chest. 

“Put on the red lights, love.” You grin devilishly, watching his doe eyes glimmer with wonder and disbelief. 

“Have I ever told you I am one lucky motherfucker?” he says, staring at your neck, at your face, at your hand, his palms already moving to your hips as you straddle him. 

“I just know it.” You sit on your throne — his lap —, stretch to the end table to grab the remote to switch the lights to red, and once the deal is settled, you let the jacket open. “I mean. I’m the luckiest because I have these, but considering you profit from them… You know…” You let your breasts show. 

“I know…” he says, entirely mesmerised. God, he is so easy, you think, watching his eyes scan your chest like a cat playing catch with a laser light. You mix your standard level of charm with a slow grind of your hips, so slow and gentle that it’s straight up teasing, torture at its blandest level.

“You make it so hard to think,” he speaks with a strangled voice, trying to make you move the way he wants, but you grab his hands with the excuse of lacing your fingers with his, only to drag them back by the sides of his head. 

“I didn’t know I could turn your brain into mush just like this,” you reply, feeling your folds moisten in an attempt to ease the sliding of your crotch against his length. Too bad both of you are still clad in your underwear and, according to your plans, would stay that way for quite a while, as long as possible. “You’re so whipped.”

“I am,” he purrs, and tries to get away with moving his hands back to your hips, but before he can dig his digits in the soft of your flesh, you tut. 

“You’d better not touch that ass, Jeon. Keep your hands to yourself if you want my hands on you,” you threaten. “Just to remind you who’s in charge, sweetheart.”

His eyes go wide and he moves his palms back behind his head as soon as you finish your remark. “Yes, miss.”

“Good boy,” you praise him, and you visibly notice him holding back from smiling at the praise. “Did you see my little mark?” you ask. “Call it a slog

an of sorts. A vision statement.” You shrug and push back the lapels, hoping for the lights not being too low for him to see. 

It has taken a while for your handy work to happen, mostly because it can be absurdly tricky writing in reverse, but thankfully you’re quite prone to graphic arts. 

Jeongguk rises a little, getting closer to where he can recognise dark scribbles on your chest. Unusual dark scribbles. 

“Is that… Tattooed?” he asks, and his eyes go wide as he meets your face. 

You cackle at him, leaning over and licking his lips, sucking his lower one, then travelling along his jaw, nibbling at his earlobe in a way that makes his hips jolt against you, buckling. “I can't have that tattooed, can I? Unless the world knows and it gets a little too permanent.” 

He frowns, not at the way he loses contact with your warm crotch, but because of the unwelcome realisation of what it means to not belong to you entirely. “I'm so sorry,” he sighs, trying to hold you, but stopping his hands before he can touch you. 

He goes back to his assigned position and begs you with his eyes. 

“Oh, no. Don't worry, it's okay.” To keep him distracted, you get back to a soft roll of your pelvis against his, and he seems to oppose, but it only lasts for maybe five seconds. 

His wound-up exhale convinces you to reward him further, lowering your chest so that it drags against his as you keep grinding on him. 

“Jeongguk, baby,” you murmur fondly. 

“So unfair… That I don’t get you like a girlfriend like anyone else…” He speaks, his focus spotty and frail. 

“What do you mean, love?” you egg him on.

“All the public stuff… All the PDA and the grand gestures. The stuff that makes it official, you know.” His eyes are glassy and fleeting as he speaks, and it really feels as if speaking were like making a necklace except he can’t quite line up the beads the right way and he can’t manage to get the string inside the hole and it takes a very long time for the words to finally turn into meaning and it’s all so frustrating. 

“I don’t care,” you reassure him, and this time you’re not unaffected either, the sentence stumbling out of you before you can even fully register the meaning you were trying to convey. “Can you read the tattoo, Guk?”

His eyelids lift through great effort, and in slow motion. You stop moving to help him focus on the writing, and he grunts at the interruption. He does not like that at all, and having you so close, so soft, so hot and wet for him is making his instinct vibrate with need to be inside you, move inside you, and then finally find his release in the welcoming darkness of your womb. 

“I—” He’s really trying so hard, god bless his heart, but he’s so unfocused and his vision is blurry and he needs to blink for a bunch of seconds before he manages to spell the message, and then compute it, and then smirk wildly before he bucks his hips up against you, letting you know that you’d better move on him. 

“What is it, Jeongguk? Mind sharing with the class?” you bait him with a cheshire grin. 

“Not sharing any of this,” he growls, and you can feel his arms jolt at the urgency to wrap around you, press you to his front and shove you underneath him, so that he can finally move as hard and as fast as he knows the both of you need. 

“Oh, don’t be a greedy little boy! Don’t you want to test how it feels to say it?” you tease him further, ready to push him to his breaking point. After all, that is what you’re always trying to do, get as far as it needs to make him go wild on you, barely coherent and entirely animalistic. 

“You want me to say it, don’t you?” he provokes you, feeling just how much the humiliation will further send you soaring over him. 

“I do,” you admit. 

He bites his lip and you look at him, you study the shape of his lips, the glint in his eyes, the dark shimmering of his lovely ebony locks, and the way his chest heaves with effort and arousal. “These tits own Jeon Jeongguk,” he speaks, his gaze piercing yours, holding you accountable for the undoing he knows will follow. 

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Your smile is sardonic, evilly pleased with his admission of submission, with him confirming, with conviction, that he is indeed entirely enslaved to his fascination for your chest, that he is so deeply enticed by it that just a silly part of you can guarantee you his unflinching devotion. 

“You know it’s right,” he grunts as your movements resume. And at this point, he knows this is going to take a while, and it will most surely turn out vicious. 

“Just checking in on you, making sure you haven’t found a better pair—”

“Don’t you dare talk to them like this. Not in front of me,” he hisses with a passion, and you chuckle at how chivalrously he defends your breasts from your own ill assumptions. 

“That’s so gallant of you,” you reply, your hands pulling his hair back, your tone fond and just vaguely lined with mocking. “Let them repay you for your kindness,” you suggest, as you start crawling down his body, your breasts landing heavily on his lap. 

“Really…?” he asks, first distracted and then extremely alert as he connects the dots. “With my boxers on?” He says with a frown. 

You shrug and smirk. “Maybe we’ll get rid of them later…” You sprinkle some kisses on his abdomen, your chest dragging against his sensitive parts. 

He frowns at the weight of them, so welcome, and yet deceiving as the fabric is hindering him from fully enjoying the act. “Please, off,” he huffs, tutting and fussing a little, but you decide to reward his patience with your nails tracing patterns against his chest, your fingertips drawing his areolae, your eyes hungry on his lost, bewildered state. 

“Not yet, love… Be patient with me,” you reassure him, tracing the rift in between the crests of his hips, one side, then the others, ricocheting between the bones on the two sides. “I’m going to make it so good to you,” you promise him, placing kisses all around the underrated perfection of his belly button — a huge ‘fuck you’ to the people salivating over him and never, ever knowing how such a minuscule inch of his body has you so irreversibly whipped. 

“Candy… Mh, love—” His voice has grown unbearably raspy and airy, so light it feels almost incorporeal, if it weren’t for the velvet smoothness of his skin underneath your lips, like marble that has finally received the breath of life, your boy an ineffable Galatea. 

“If you knew, Guk, if only—” kiss— “you knew—” kiss— “how sexy, and erotic, and exciting and poetic you look right now, baby. You look like art.” 

“Lemme touch you, I need you, I need—” he gasps and you’re almost expecting him to release a groan before he comes, way too early, much earlier than planned. But fortunately he doesn’t, he holds back stoically and cants his hips away. “For fuck’s sake,” he whispers, an arm covering his eyes. “I need a second if you need me to hold back.”

“Oh,” you reply in surprise, lifting yourself off him. “Are you alright?”

“Just give me some quiet for a second, Candy, don’t you dare even speak.” Jeongguk’s chest is rising and falling in wide movements, enticing and captivating.

Finally he removes his arm from his eyes, but he barely makes eye contact. 

“Guk?” You ask, worried. 

“Just— I’m trying to keep it cool here, love.” He wiggles his body a little, trying to get his boxers to fit a bit less tightly around him. “We should be smarter about this, you know?” His hands clench as he stops himself from reaching for you. “We should get a cockring for next time.”

You ogle him, then smile excitedly. “Really?” you chirp.

“Totally,” he concedes. He smiles even bigger at your smile. “Don’t tell me you bought one already.”

“Uhm… No,” you admit with a pout. 

“Dammit. It would have been weird, but I wouldn’t even have complained about it since it would pretty much save my ass right now.” He licks his lips, stares at you some more, and he groans and throws his head back at the renewed flare of arousal after he’d just managed to tone it down a notch. 

“I’m so sorry, bunny.”

“I’m alright,” he admits, his tone defeated. 

“Is this the right moment to suggest I ride your face?” you say, your grin now sardonic, almost drunk on him and the sight of his body shutting down for you, malfunctioning at the mere touch of you. 

He stares at you, wide eyed, nodding energetically, like a kid being asked if they want to visit Disneyland. “Guess it took a half naked commercial to get you to finally ask for it like you own it.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Careful or I can keep going with torturing you. I’m liking it anyway.”

“No no no, come over here,” he says with a stern and determined expression on his face, his hands reaching for the back of your thighs. “I’ve been waiting. Get comfy,” he encourages you, and after some manoeuvring you settle on top of him. 

He nods to himself, his nose nuzzling against the crotch of your panties, his mouth opening so he can feel your heat with his tongue, trying to get as close as possible.

Unsatisfied, his fingers reach to slip your panties to the side, but you slap at his hand. 

“Nope. You wanted the Calvin’s, and we’re keeping the Calvin’s,” you scold him. 

He frowns. “No, you were the one wanting them,” he argues. “Keep them on, you said.”

“Whatever.” You arch an eyebrow at him, but you also know he’s right and this decision has come to bite you in the ass. “Imagine how good it will feel once we take them off… And it feels a bit kinky to keep them on. Like… Like we’re having a quickie and everyone out there is waiting for model Jeongguk to come out anytime now, but once he does, well, he looks freshly fucked and everyone can’t stop talking about it— Oh, that!” you moan, your musings interrupted by Jeongguk trying to get bits of you in his mouth. 

You’re thankful for the brazilian cut panties giving him plenty of stuff to work with even with the underwear still on. 

“Stop me if it’s lewd but, dammit, I love the smell of you.” He drags his face side to side, basking in the damp, salty scent of your arousal. “I don’t even know what it is about it, but I like it so much.” 

“Keep doing whatever you’re doing,” you comment, your voice breathy. 

“Do you want me to keep talking?” he asks, and you just rub yourself against his chin, his mouth, and his words come out muffled. At some point you think you might have hurt his nose, so you ease the pressure a little, but he grabs handfuls of your butt and keeps you snug to his face, parts his lips wider as if he were really trying to eat you. 

He parts from his designed heaven only long enough to announce, “I’m pushing ‘em to the side, fuck it.” And you’re barely coherent, and he’s speaking with that intimate lisp of his, his accent heavy, like he can’t pay too much attention to words anyway. 

You don’t oppose. 

In seconds, his tongue is tipping inside you, slippery, and so hot, and you moan without even noticing it. Everything is soaked, his chest is covered in perspiration, and so are your thighs. 

You dare look down, and his eyes are closed as he is filling all his other senses with the sensation of you.

You bask in the sight of him, one forearm draped against the headboard of the bed, your other hand reaching down, to his fluffy hair currently tickling your inner thigh. You grab it, careful to be right between gentle and aggressive, in that way he finds so pleasant and sexy. 

He opens his eyes suddenly, and the moment he finds your eyes already connected with his face, he finds himself more eager to give you just what you need to plunge into oblivion. 

He gives you lush, slow licks, from your centre to your most sensitive spot, he takes his time, and moves into more sinuous motions, drawing curve after curve on his way up. He is unrushed, patient, and eloquent. He is luxuriant, explorative, curious. 

He loves what he’s doing, and he loves you and he’s showing it, top to bottom, and all the way up again. 

“Guk,” you breathe out, and it’s almost a hiccup.

“Yes, I know,” he murmurs against the bend of your inner thigh, right at the fold to your crotch. It’s so private, so sacred. It’s heartbreakingly yours and his and no one else’s. You’re in a shared space where nobody else can tell what you and him know. 

“Please,” you manage to say. 

He rearranges his arm so he can move two fingers along the seam between your legs, and then they’re inside, and he’s moving them right, rubbing them against the back wall of your entrance. 

As you tip your body forward, he moans with his mouth to your clitoris, happy with the new angle, and once you start grinding against him, climbing your way to your climax, he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t go faster, he doesn’t add pressure. He does not change one single thing, and you’re so grateful for the way he has come to understand you, your body, your tells. 

“Just right,” you encourage him. “You’re so damn perfect, love— Oh, there.”

That’s the last thing you can remember saying before he sets you off like fireworks. You don’t take much into consideration after that. All is fair, unless he’s holding you back. 

You grind, hump, moan, thrash just a little as you get too sensitive and fold in two, your forehead pressed to your wrist on the headboard 

as you shake your head ‘no’ but can’t bring yourself to stop from feeling everything he wants you to take. 

When you manage to recover, you whisper, “Okay, gimme a second.” And you try to unstraddle his face, but he holds you there, and simply avoids touching your sensitive parts, removing his fingers from inside you. 

“Are you alright, Candy?”

You nod and take some large breaths. 

He moves your panties back in place, then kisses your mound softly, affectionate, innocent even. 

“Can I do anything for you now, love?” He asks with a reverent, caring note in his voice. 

You shake your head, still recovering. “Can I lay on top of you?” 

“Sure thing,” he says, unlatching from you and leaving some room for you to realign with him, face to face, torso to torso, hip to hip, calf to calf. 

He’s still hard as marble, and the gentle grind of your pelvis against his causes him to groan softly. 

You press your lips to his to distract him. 

The jeans jacket you’re still wearing gives him something to ground himself, his focus aimed entirely at the feeling of the fabric underneath his fingers instead of the humid warmth of your crotch pressed against his. 

Just then, you bring your heels underneath your ass, rising to your knees as you swiftly remove your upper garment. 

The way his focus moves immediately to your breasts makes you cackle a little, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. 

“Candy, you’ll have to get that tattooed.”

“Nah, too dangerous. They might tell on you.”

He frowns. “You’re right,” he still agrees. Too dangerous. You’re dangerous to him too, and there are not many chances of him keeping some form of dignity if he could at any time see a tattoo calling him out for his undying liaison with your chest. 

He catches your wrists, making you lose your balance so that your torso collapses onto his. And he keeps you there, wraps you up in his arms. 

“Still jealous, love?” he asks you. 

“More than ever,” you admit, and you look into his eyes, recognising the feeling pooling in them. 

“I'm only yours,” he swears, kissing the side of your head, whatever he can reach, and it's so tender, so innocent, so magical. “What can I do for you?” he whispers, flirting with you. 

You wrap your hands around his forearms and bring them up above his head. “No. I want to do things for you.”

You press your lips to his gingerly, then start to kiss down, tracking his throat and moving further downwards, to his chest, stopping where his heart thumps against the petals of your lips.

“Beats so hard for me,” you comment lightly. “Do I make your heart race, love?” 

“You do, Candy,” his reply is strained, as if it hurt to speak at that moment. 

“But I—” You let your nails tickle the flat of his waist, the elastic band around his hips— “I also make your dick hard, don't I?” 

He moans eloquently, then chuckles at your teasing. “You so do,” he admits, embarrassed but also excited, and so so thankful for having found you. 

You grab the waistband of his underwear with your teeth, letting it slap against his skin with a dry snap. “Grab a pen from your bedside, will you?”

You look up just in time to catch his eyes flickering open, his expression coming to life slowly. “What?” he asks, confused. 

“A pen, from your drawer,” you repeat. 

“Oh.” He had been too unfocused and he hadn’t realised you were talking to him, as if the words were just sound with no meaning; however, now he’s paid attention, so he stretches to the side, exposing the slender twist of his waist to your reverent mouth. You kiss him there, his body contracting as your lips attack his ticklish spot. 

“You’re a menace,” he complains, giving you the side eye, but also offering you a boyish, loving smirk. 

“And yet, you love me.”

“You’re lucky,” he says, right before you nip at his skin in reprimand. “Okay, I am the lucky one,” he concedes, returning to you with a pen in his hand. “You want this one?” he asks.

You nod and stretch for it, then peck the mole beside his navel and make your way down. 

His underwear by now is bitterly persona non grata, still you make yourself okay with it and simply move the elastic down, exposing his hipbone more fully. 

“What you gonna do?” he muses, propping himself up and staring at you bent over his pelvis. You look at him and prepare the pen, staring in his eyes as you suck at your bottom lip, torturing it a little as you think. 

“Are you gonna mark me? Sign me up?” he asks, a mocking grin on his face. 

You move the pen away and loll your tongue out, drawing a thick stripe following the shape of him in his boxers. 

He immediately drops his cocky act and arches up, sensitive, holding on barely. 

“You think you’re so smart, huh?” you scold him provokingly. “Remember where this is all coming from,” you remind him threateningly. 

He gasps as your mouth sucks his tip through the fabric, your nails tracing the indentations of his quads. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’ve got me.”

You nod to yourself. “I do,” you say, patronising just in the slightest. And because you can you rise, remove yourself from the way, and pull at his hipbone, trying to flip him around. 

He’s alarmed, but he follows your lead. You straddle the back of his thighs, bend down, and move his underwear down, the elastic stuck under the fold of his ass, further emphasising it. It looks plump and delicious, and for a moment you’re caught admiring him. 

He’s twisting his neck to try and see what you’re doing, filled with wonder at the way your hair tumbles over, and he’s mesmerised by the shine of it, the softness of the tips, like a brush, whispering at his skin.

You pick the right spot, then settle down, folded over his glute. His skin is hot against your touch and when you finally bring the pen to his flesh, you hope it won’t fail, despite the perspiration and the soft surface. 

Shamelessly, you draw the words like an inscription on a stone. 

Poetic, and dirty. Just the way you like it. However, you don’t give him the benefit of knowledge. 

You lean back, watch your little handywork with a surging of pride and love and confidence. You smack it, just because you can, not hard, not soft either, just sweet enough that it doesn’t feel like a violation doing it without asking his permission first. 

His muscles squeeze, and his breath catches. 

Because I can, your brain keeps telling you, over and over, like a mantra. You’re allowed to. He’s yours and you’re the only one allowed to. 

“You’re getting confident with this,” he comments, and suddenly your eyes are meeting. 

He looks like something you would paint. Something you would dream of, and then wake up and sketch down in the middle of the night, caught by some sort of frenzy, some urgency mixed with an impending fear of forgetting, of losing it. Losing him. 

“I’m gonna draw you.”

He doesn’t connect the words for a bunch of seconds. Not until you’re standing up and running out of the room and he asks himself, why, why the fuck is she leaving?

“Candy?” he calls, unsure. 

He tries to see what in the world you’ve written on his ass, but you’re making your way back in the room, tablet in hand, and your steps are bouncy and your tits follow the movement so his attention is divided. 

“What— Where—?” He’s confused. 

And then you’re perched on the armchair at the corner of the room, and the light from your tablet reflects on your face, and you look spirited, caught by some urgency he can’t quite find a name for. 

“Candy, for the love of—”

“Just a bunch of minutes. A quick sketch, no more.”

He’s been patient. He’s been understanding. He’s let you tease him, and he’s let you touch him, lick him, suck him. He still has your taste all over his face and chin and he still feels the phantom touch of your breasts against his crotch and all he wants is to feel you on him, around him, against him. 

“Please,” he whines. 

“Just a minute.”

He swells. Frowns. Thrusts his hips against the mattress. 

“Almost—” you say, drawing a couple more lines. 

You’re in his arms next. “Put that down, Candy.” His face is right above yours and he’s carrying you bridal style. “Put it down,” he repeats. 

You're very still. He's looking at your quick sketch, at the way it was all a rough frame and some basic lines. “You're gonna post that? Share it as some fanart instead of a live portrait?” He throws you on the bed and you clutch your tablet harder, trying to save it from any damage. He's on top of you next, grabbing the device and moving it to his drawer before he returns upon you, blocking your wrists above your head. 

“Are you maybe going to draw it faceless, so you can sell it as a picture, to decorate somebody's house?” He bends to your ear and nips at the side of your neck. “Let my ass hang naked on someone else's wall?” 

You feel overwhelmed and surprised by his counterattack, not really knowing how to react. 

He drags his body against yours, stealing a whimper from your lips. “I think you enjoyed topping a little too much tonight.” He flips you onto your front next, and you find yourself only mildly embarrassed that he's made only one tenth of the effort it had taken you to flip him. 

He slaps your ass, and it is nowhere as playful or light as the spank you'd given him. It is his turn to grab the pen. 

“Let's see if you can walk the talk, Candy. If you like the taste of your own medicine,” he muses, and he bites your ass cheek, bending over to start writing, but accidentally finding himself unable to resist the urge to sink his teeth in your plush flesh. 

“Since I'm not a selfish asshole, I'm gonna tell you what I'm writing. Here we go, 'This ass likes spankings from Jeon Jeongguk'. What do you say? Is it true?” 

You're panting, wiggling in his hold, trying anything to see the possessed look on his face. “It's true,” you admit, breathless. 

He smirks and lands one more hit on your ass. “Damn right it is,” he says confidently. 

He tugs your underwear off harshly, almost angry. 

Soon he's naked, and so are you, and he's slipping inside you while you're still on your front, your hips arched all the way up, cupped by his hands. “Let's make this fuck more fun than your drawing, huh?” 

And when he starts, goodness, you want him to never, ever stop. 

He's ruthless, and he only asks if you're alright once, after three strokes. After that, all's fair, and he's ramming inside you in a way that makes you gasp and arch further, trying to get him even deeper, to an even better angle. 

You can't really look at him, since you'd risk a kink in your neck, but he doesn't care. He only cares about his handwriting on your ass, and his name on it. He only cares about the way you're gasping his name, and sometimes, when he slams in at the right moment, the impact causes too much of your breath to come out, so the whispered begging gets punctuated by moaned-out, hiccuped syllables. 

He smacks your ass a few more times, his hand tingling, but the spanks seem to make you happy, so he doesn't stop, and he doesn't complain either. 

“You're jealous of me, Candy,” he manages to speak, slowing down just enough so he has more of your attention. “Do you have any idea how jealous I am of you? How hard it is to feel like you want to own me half as much as I want to be yours?” He's on his knees behind you, and his thrusts grow more patient, more luscious. Richer and fuller. “Sometimes I'm scared you'll leave me, and someone else will get to have all the wonderful sex I get to have with you. Someone else will get to see your face first thing in the morning, and become a character in your cartoons, and talk about you with their granny, and bring you home for New Year's.” His face collapses close to your shoulder. “What will I do with myself, then?” 

You turn your face and you finally get to see him. “Flip me around,” you order him, but your voice is fond. “I want to look you in the eyes while you fuck me like no one else has ever.” 

His hair is fuzzy with his perspiration, and his face glistens with a light sheen of sweat. “Sure?” he asks, in confirmation. 

“I'm sure,” you comfort him. 

He's only happy once you're below him, and he's on top of you, inside you. 

You clench around him, and he frowns deeply, trying to control himself. Still, he gives a sharp jab with his hips, and it steals your breath. 

“Like that,” you praise him. “I want you to fuck me like that. Like no one else can.” 

His eyes stay wide open, stubbornly nailed to yours as he starts moving. It's hard and slow, and it makes you see stars. 

“Do you still feel like drawing?” he provokes you, “Or am I fucking you good enough?” 

You hiss and bite his arm, both to keep him humble, but also, again, because you can — and nobody else does. 

“Maybe I could get on top of you so you can watch my tits bounce, and maybe that will make you want to draw,” you bite back, and next thing you know you're both sat up, you're on his lap and he's bouncing you on his dick. 

“Definitely feeling inspired right now,” he concedes. “Maybe I should stop and paint them.” 

You push him down and he's finally with his back to the mattress, you on top. “Or maybe you could shut your mouth and get busy so I can cum.” 

The slap lands almost immediately on your ass. “Dirty mouth. And a fucking divine cunt,” he speaks through gritted teeth. 

He lets you lead for about thirty seconds, during which he stays occupied with your boobs, grabbing them, slapping them, pinching your nipples, and then he grabs your hips and stills them. 

“Touch yourself,” he orders your roughly before he starts fucking up from below you. 

It escalates quickly from there, and in less than a minute you're gone, collapsing forward, against him, and he's so thankful because he's coming too and your kegels are squeezing him just right, and he only manages to say “fucking yours” before he abandons all his inhibitions and loses himself inside you. 

You come back to reality only, and you find yourself tucked in his embrace, his body above yours. You don’t know when he flipped the two of you over, but you like his weight on top of you. 

“Hey,” you murmur, combing his hair away from his face. 

His expression is lazy and satisfied. 

Well done, you tell yourself, almost giving a pat to your own shoulder. He looks fantastically fucked, deliciously edible and perfectly yours. 

“Hey you,” he replies, with the most heavenly, blissful grin on his face. No, too tired to be a grin, more like a glowy smile. It’s not fully on, it looks like those battery-operated lights when they’re almost out of energy, a bit faded, or maybe pale. Faint, feeble, dim. Soft. Muted. If his bunny smiles were jewel tones, this was the most delicate pastel pink. A powder baby blue, almost robin egg blue. 

You want to wrap yourself in the hazy glow radiating from him, gentle as a sunny dawn in late May. 

“So glad you got those Calvin’s,” you joke, and there it is, bunny grin, ten million watts. Apparently that makes his battery die because his head collapses to your neck and he doesn’t seem willing or ready to lift himself back up. 

“So glad I made you jealous. But also sorry,” he says, truly apologetic. “I’m happy we did this. I’m happy I saw you like this.” 

His lips tickle the side of your neck, and you squirm a little, but you try not to move too much. You want to be comfortable for him to rest on. You want him to stay like that on top of you forever. “I’m still maddish. But I think I can deal with it.”

“There’s more pictures coming,” he says tentatively, and he makes the effort to pick up his head to give you a helpless look, trying to protect himself already by giving you the sweetest pair of puppy eyes he’s ever used on anyone. 

“Oh, I’m totally getting your ass branded,” you reply, saccharine. “I was thinking I could make those ribbons, like the ones the police use, except I put my name on it and I wrap it all around your chest, so they can’t drool all over your abs.”

He laughs, and the sound is boyish and playful, and lovely. You fall in love a tiny bit more. 

“Can I see the pictures in advance?”

He hums as he thinks about it for three seconds, except he already knows how he wants to play it. “Mh…” he says some more, keeping you on your toes. “No.” He looks up, testing you. “But let’s say I hope you get that cockring ready.”

You pull your head back, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re not naked in your Calvin’s, right?”

He grins, gives you a devilish wink. “Maybe.”

You grab his cheeks and squeeze his face and he laughs so hard you can’t be possibly mad at him for even a nanosecond. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“And your tits will be it for me,” he flirts back. 

You shake your head. “Brat.”

And he kisses you. Just that. 

Before he hits the shower the following morning, Jeongguk inspects the damage you’ve done on him. 

He’s quite happy with it. A very faint bruise on his neck. A red splotch on his abs, and another on his hip, but nothing that won’t fade within one or two days. He knows you know the drill by now. 

He turns around to inspect his back, and he’s okay with it, nothing that will get him in trouble in case he needs to be shirtless or generically undressed around staff members. He drops his underwear and it’s only once he’s making his way to the shower that he notices something strange on his asscheek. 

Oh, fuck. Suddenly reminded of your little handiwork with the pen the night before, he bends to the side, trying to get a better view at his ass. 

He finds himself wobbling side to side, like a silly puppy chasing his tail, and that is exactly the way you find him when you enter the bathroom. 

A laugh bubbles out of you and you smack his butt playfully. “Do you need help with that?” you ask, cheery. 

“No,” he bites back, but he has the most innocent, pouty look on his face, and he is having fun a little. “Maybe,” he concedes, his voice young. 

You wrap your arms around him and rise to your toes, propping your chin on his shoulder as you hug him from behind. “I wrote, ‘Candy’s babyboy’.”

His ears go red, just the tiniest bit. “Really?” His expression is so sweet. 

“Really,” you confirm, confident, serious, and loving. 

“You’re not making fun of me,” he asks, vulnerably. 

“I promise I’m really, really not, Guk.” You kiss his shoulder. “You’re my babyboy. And my sexy man. And just mine, generally speaking.”

He nods, a happy, fulfilled look on his face. “Right.” He’s once more confident. Entirely adult. 

“Love you,” you reassure him again, and then you kiss his shoulder, again. 

He grins. There he is, your boy. “Love you too.”

Hi it's Dita, the writer, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment to keep this poor gremlin fanfic writer motivated. Bye and I LOVE YOU!!!

[dsknsk]

I love how PM keeps playing with tropes. We've seen the tropes that they deconstruct within Limbus (in fact, it is a theory of mine that each Sinner is based on a stereotypical character from gachas), the way that they pick up the cyberpunk trope and basically throw it across the room, but another huge one is...

Carmen.

Look. I think that Carmen was and is based on the traditional 'Mary Sue'. Because...well, some traits that are said to belong to the 'Mary Sue', are turned brilliantly on their head by PM. So, for typical 'Mary Sue' traits, there's:

Pretty in the traditional sense. 'Mary Sues' always look perfect, peerless and never have to work hard to maintain their image. While, as far as I know, there hasn't really been made an in-universe compliment on Carmen's physical appearance...you'd rather stop and listen to someone who at least looks like they can be trusted wouldn't you? She's likened to the sun, as Oswald called her that, and is inside the light. (Also, out-of-universe: she is certainly pretty in my eyes. She adheres to the modern beauty standards at the very least).

Related to the above: charming. The 'Mary Sue' often has an innate charm that attracts others to her. The way that Carmen has this is through her voice, which already was powerful enough to let her traverse the dangerous Backstreets unarmed, standing out from all those other Backstreets preachers somehow and draw in the most cynical noblemen, but is even more charming after death. She doesn't even need to give a breaking speech or anything, as we've seen, she just gives you questions and comments on things. Which falls in line with...

Powerful, yet without having to break a sweat. Even before dying, she was already drawing in people without having to get physical (at least, none we know of). The only time we fight her as of yet (Kether realisation), Angela needs to use an attack that depletes all her HP to win, after five phases have already passed.

The 'Mary Sue' is often a so-called spotlight stealer. She will have a major role in the story, inexplicably, at least one other character will fall in love with her and she will overall have a large presence. So far, Carmen is the only character who has appeared in all three of the games, and if you count the Distortion and the Library, she has influenced WonderLab, Leviathan and Distortion Detective as well. She was also relevantly connected to the main cast of LobCorp and has influenced most of them in some way (i.e Ayin, Angela, Giovanni, arguably Kali, etc.). She remains to be relevant to several major story turns and has left her mark in them, in some way.

Unusual eyes. It's a stereotype that 'Mary Sues' always have unusual eyes. A common type is heterochromia (which is why I often jokingly call Hong Lu a 'Mary Sue'), but other types exist like sparkly rainbow or them changing like a mood ring or something. Carmen has red eyes, which are a common side-effect of body enhancements (Vergilius had them and the R Corp pack leaders too)...except, as we said, for as far as we know, Carmen hasn't had any. They are also a trait of Bloodfiends, but she isn't (yet) confirmed to be one. Either way, red eyes are a sign of the not-weak in the City.

Oftentimes, 'Mary Sues' are referred to as divinity, as pure grace from an utmost high all-powerful deity. They may or may not even be that deity. With Carmen, she practically had a cult of personality around her when she was alive...and she also had an analogue in another pale-skinned, red-eyed being that is also treated like this. She was described as this paeon of altruism and someone who genuinely wants the best for humanity.

Meaningful name. While not so immediately on-the-nose like 'Flowersparkle', Carmen's name can be seen as a reference to the infamous prototype of the femme fatale, once again hinting at that charming quality of hers.

Perfect. A 'Mary Sue' never fails at what she does...and that's where PM shows through that...

...Carmen is a parody on the 'Mary Sue'. A so-called 'Parody Sue'...but not played for laughs. The thing is that she is described as being all this...by those she already has enthralled. Those that aren't really involved with her - Hokma (was more loyal to Ayin), Binah (who wasn't in the picture during Carmen's life), and Roland (a stranger to LobCorp to begin with) have their say during Ruina and offer us another view at Carmen, our first, and one thing becomes clear:

A real 'Mary Sue' would be weird as fuck.

Carmen shows us how weird a 'Mary Sue' would actually be in a world that isn't sunshine and rainbows - an extremely uncanny, severely misguided being who nonetheless draws people to herself, who show a creepy amount of belief and devotion to her. Carmen thinks that the 'be yourself' message - so omnipresent in media - should prevail...in a world where the majority of people are either pieces of shit or are living such a dreary, miserable life that they just give up all hope.

But all of this is only revealed in the second game and pulls the player out of the dream. And so, Carmen does end up failing to convince some people like Dongbaek and Dongrang who manage to develop E.G.O instead.

Because despite what she was painted as in the past, in reality, Carmen is not a 'Mary Sue'. And she is not perfect.

That's why she's such a great PM character.

[inkdemonapologist]

My BatDR Take That Used To Be Hot But I Left It Out On The Windowsill To Cool So You Should Be Able to Eat It Now Without Burning Your Tongue

its not actually that hot, is what im saying

Anyway my BatDR hot take is that BatDR's story is not fundamentally worse than BatIM with one exception; an exception that, for BatIM, covers a multitude of sins:

BatIM has a theme.

I can't presume the intentions of the creators, but if I had to write an essay on the themes in BatIM, it wouldn't be hard to pick one out: the cost of obsession, or even just, the ruin Joey brought on the studio. In the very first chapter, Henry asks "Joey, what were you doing?" and every single thing in the rest of the game revolves around that central question: what WAS Joey doing? Each audiolog is a snippet of the studio's path to this messed up state; each character you meet is someone ruined by Joey. The major antagonists echo Joey's flaws -- obsession with Bendy as more than a cartoon, obsession with perfection, obsession with fame and greatness and legacy -- but even without that, they're also each a picture of how the lives of people caught in the path of Joey's dream were ruined by it. Bertrum, for example, doesn't match the concept of rubberhose cartoons, but as yet another person screwed over by Joey, he fits the central question of the story, so he feels like he belongs here. Ultimately, in a narrative sense, the Ink Demon isn't the story's monster -- Joey is; the Ink Demon is just the consequence of his reckless ambition.

But what's the theme or central question of BatDR?

You can... try to pick out a theme. There's some promising options, because it feels like the story WANTED a theme, stating its emotional intentions more overtly -- "there's always a choice" to leave the darkness and chose hope; family and the struggle of living in a heavy legacy's shadow; or even just good old mewtwo-brand The Circumstance's Of One's Birth Are Irrelevant, It Is What You Do With The Gift Of Life That Determines Who You Are.

I think, even WITH the clumsy execution of Joey's "arc" and Audrey's lack of real choices, any of those could work about as well as BatIM. But unlike BatIM, the majority of the game doesn't tie in. Joey's tour can be considered relevant -- a picture of the family legacy and the "darkness" that Audrey doesn't yet know she's inheriting -- but like, the audiologs and hints and environment of BatDR are mostly teasing the question of What Is Gent Up To, and the takeover of Gent is detached from Audrey's choices, her family, her legacy, and Gent never really becomes a relevant threat to those things in this game. The Cult of Amok and the Ghost Train have nothing to do with any of these ideas. It might've been neat if Audrey had ever considered, "Did my father really drive all these people insane?", a hint of actually having to wonder about the darkness in her past. Even Wilson only barely brushes against these concepts; he doesn't like Joey and he also is trying to escape his family's heavy legacy, but it doesn't really reflect on his actions and we don't find that last part out until he's about to be dead.

There's also the question Wilson poses of "real" people versus ink creations, and what counts as valid "life." It would be an interesting theme with a lot to build off of in this setting, it ties into Wilson more as Wilson seems to represent the opinion that Inky Things Aren't Really Alive, which could've tied to Audrey (as an ink-person who has yet to accept that part of herself) and maybe given Wilson a reason to think it's fine to sacrifice her, it could've even tied to Gent (who don't even seem to value human life) -- but after Wilson asks the question, it doesn't tie into the direction things go. He smooshes a little Bendy, we see hints of his disregard for Betty, and then everyone continues with their plan to destroy the Ink Demon without any further moral quandaries about inky life.

The thing is, when you compare an element like, say, audiologs, there's a lot of differences you can point to -- but I don't actually think Lacie Benton's audiolog is notably better, taken on its own, than Grace Conway's or Kitty Thompson's, and yet tons of people were intrigued enough to flesh out Lacie. None of them are big plot points or compelling characters on their own; Lacie and Grace both give us a little note on what it's like working in the Studio, and Kitty shares a little bit on how Gent's expansion is affecting people. But when Lacie talks about Bertrum trying to make a creepy animatronic, that ties back into Joey's ill-fated schemes that are the point of the whole story. The question we're asking through the whole game is "what happened here?" so the fandom is interested in who Lacie is and what her life was like and extrapolates a whole person out of a couple sentences. But that's not the question in BatDR -- what has Wilson done to the Cycle and the Demon? Why? Who is Audrey really, and why is she here? Telling us new things about the Studio's fate seems strangely irrelevant to those questions, just an attempt to create a Mystery To Speculate On like the previous game did... but what question you're asking and how it fits into your story's main theme, like, matters. I absolutely believe that one clock animator guy would've been in EVERYONE'S crew if he'd been introduced in BatIM, but the context makes a difference; fleshing him out feels less relevant here.

The explanations of how and why Wilson did everything he did are baffling and handwavey, but in and of itself that's not a worse problem than anything else in the franchise -- I STILL don't understand why the Ink Machine needs pipes in the walls or even how it works, there's no good reason for Sammy to believe the Ink Demon will "set him free," most of Alice's motives don't make sense, etc etc etc. But the thing is that in BatDR, the wibbly bit is the closest thing to a central question we have! Wilson, what were you doing? The theme doesn't really explore or connect to that question, so the explanations that are finally tossed our way feel lacking in a way that BatIM's handwaved elements don't. There's a lot about Joey's motivation in BatIM that we can't know, but the heart of it resonates -- Joey wanted something, he was willing to exploit people to get it, and he became obsessed and prioritised that dream at any cost. We'll weather a thousand logistical inconsistencies if it's got heart.

But all of that said.... to be honest, I don't think Lacie overtly fits that theme anyway. Even, like, Sammy is iffy -- we don't really know what happened to him, only that he didn't used to be made of ink and worship Bendy, and now he does. We assume Joey's nonsense had something to do with what happened to him (though the books later assert his influence was indirect at best), because when there's a pattern, we can fill in the blank. So many fan creators found a place for Lacie, Grant, and Shawn in the cycle as butcher clones or lost ones, so many people imagined that Wally must be the Boris we meet, because that would've fit the pattern, the idea that the point of what we're seeing is the downfall of the studio. It's not actually that BatIM did a great job tying everything together -- it's that BatIM gave us a compelling idea and that was all it took to make everything else SEEM like it could find a place to fit. This is what I mean when I say BatIM's theme covers a multitude of sins. There's a LOT of characters in BatIM that don't make sense. There's a lot of inconsistencies and things that just sort of happen without any real reason. Characters don't really have "arcs" so much as different states they happen to be in at different times. But because there's a central question and the story doesn't wander away from it, our pattern-loving human brains will slot in all the pieces and do all the work to make the story feel at least somewhat coherent.

The things that happened in BatDR aren't a whole lot less coherent than BatIM imo, they just don't tie into a bigger theme or any of the questions the story's asking, making "how do they fit into all this" feel irrelevant, making it easier to forget entire sections and harder to get invested in audiolog characters. I think a lot of the other criticisms people have for BatDR's story are very valid, but I also suspect that if BatDR had a more successful theme/central question, then a lot of its flaws would be easier to overlook -- just like BatIM.

[euniexenoblade]

re: egg discourse

i thought it was just people saying that specifically making jokes about someone being trans but not knowing it yet can be kinda invalidating and sometimes traumatic. are people actually saying you should never tell someone that they might be trans?

i dont really have a side in the debate it just feels like people are willfully misunderstanding eachother and its making my brain hurt

"making jokes about someone being trans but not knowing it yet can be kinda invalidating and sometimes traumatic"

Sure, but it also isn't for a lot of people. And, a lot of people I talk to say egg jokes helped them realize who they were. Though I do think part of this resistance to an egg joke is actually internalized transphobia at points (the idea of being compared to trans people is being treated as degrading in a lot of these people's arguments) the truth of the matter is different people need and want different things. Me making eggs jokes with my friends is not your friend group.

This is why the recurring complaint of our side is it's never egg jokes can make people uncomfortable, 'make sure your friends are cool with them before just doing them,' it's always complaining about trans women forcing cis men to be women or trans women being "transvestigators" or "similar to Christian missionaries." People who are uncomfortable with egg jokes are always projecting their discomfort onto other people, other friend groups, and portray harmless fun between friends as something abusive.

Like for example,

this is a projection. the egg jokes people are talking about happen among friends and stuff, but this person is doing a whole "never make egg jokes because people did it about me and made me feel bad" (oh woe is you, people thought you might be transgender, how disgusting to be a tranny). The majority of egg jokes are not about random ass people, it's within friend groups. And, if you don't like your friends saying them, tell them to stop. If they don't? Then stop being their friends. Also from that post

The underwater filter butchered that. I know you can't read it but I wanted to post it cuz fucking look at that. What the hell. Anyways,

This opposition to egg joke people always talk about strangers. As if we're walking up to random people on the street and making egg jokes about them. It's mostly contained to friend groups. This is just an inaccurate portrayal of what's actually being discussed, and I'm sure the op will be like "I'm talking about my experience!" but OP openly admitted that this rant was relevant to a random blogger complaining about an egg tweet a woman made about her own friend group that neither this OP or that blogger are part of. They are actually dictating how strangers are allowed to act and identify with this, not the egg jokesters.

Yeah, once and a while you get shit like "Aaron Bushnell seems transfem" which was a completely innocuous convo that no one would have seen if well known transmisogynists who accuse random trans women of pedophilia like three times a year hadn't found the post. It was a trans woman seeing herself in someone important in history, and even if someone said something inappropriate, the backlash was undeserved. Yall say embarrassing shit all the time and no one's running you off the web site for it.

I'm sorry this person and others seem to have a bad time with egg jokes (though most of the time, what they describe isn't egg jokes but that's a whole other thing), but their few experiences can not be used to determine a blanket response to something so many people actually do enjoy and find useful. I'm especially not gonna take a cis person's opinions on egg jokes seriously (since so many have seemed to gotten involved and think their opinion on this matters).

"are people actually saying you should never tell someone that they might be trans?"

Yes! That's like, the entire underlying premise of this! Like, 100% this is the backbone of every anti-egg joke argument. That's the entire concept of "egg prime directive." And, it's overwhelmingly weaponized against trying to help transfems realize themselves sooner than they would. From the aforementioned Bushnell drama, to the polls where a shit ton of transmascs voted it was ok to tell an eggy friend they might be a trans man but NOT ok to tell an eggy friend they might be a trans woman, to the newest drama where chongoblog whined about a random trans woman on twitter making egg jokes about her friend (which it was later revealed chongoblog misrepresented the tweet), the anti egg joke committee / "You can't tell anyone they're trans!!!" crew are always wielding this ideology against transfems / trans women but practically never against transmascs.

This is why it's constantly said that these posts and arguments are transmisogynistic in nature. "I'm a trans woman and I say eggs jokes are bad, so it can't be transmisogynistic you're just using that as a shield!" That's great but 1) maybe read between the lines, or read the criticisms you're clearly ignoring and maybe you'll see these people don't respect you 2) the whole "using transmisogyny as a shield" is like, classic transmisogyny at this point. We've been hearing that from anti-feminists, cryptoterfs, and trans woman hating google doc writers for a few years now and 3) you being complicit doesn't mean we gotta care about what you say.

"it just feels like people are willfully misunderstanding eachother and its making my brain hurt"

Oh, I'm sure this is absolutely the case. The problem is a bunch of transphobes are really who spurred a lot of this drama up earlier this year and instead of people thinking "oh these people have bad intentions I shouldn't boost this" they instead were like "Yeah! I don't like egg jokes!" and now we have to deal with trans women making egg jokes (normal, harmless, pro-trans and literally want to help trans people) being compared to transvestigators (a literal anti-trans hate group thing). The issue is people aren't treating us as people, and thus it gets returned in kind.

What's the answer to this? Mutual understanding that "some people need to be told they're trans," "some people don't respond well to being told who they are," "egg jokes can help people and be a fun joke for friends," and "some people are uncomfortable with egg jokes" can all coexist. But, honestly, I don't think we'll ever get there.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Idk if you've already posted about this but opinions on Jamil's relationship with Kalim?

I’m pretty sure I’ve talked about the Scarabia duo’s dynamic before, although not in this broad of a sense 🤔 I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try and condense my thoughts?

I think Kalim and Jamil’s relationship is one of the most complex among the core cast of 22. To simplify, it’s similar to “frenemies”, but it runs much deeper than that. There is a relationship on an individual level, but that in of itself also speaks to the expectations places on them in-universe , as well as real-world cultural differences.

I won't bore you with a summary of Jamil and Kalim's history I'm going to assume you did the required reading for that/j, but essentially their conflict is this: Jamil's family, the Vipers, have serviced Kalim's family, the Asims, for generations. Kalim sees Jamil as a childhood friend that has grown up alongside him, but Jamil sees Kalim as an ignorant and useless master. Jamil doesn't want to live this life of servitude, nor does he want to keep playing second fiddle to Kalim by downplaying his own abilities to maintain the illusion of Kalim being better than him. When this is revealed in book 4, Kalim tries to apologize to Jamil and even insists that they can still be friends or just start over as rivals. This offer is swiftly rejected by Jamil, who claims he wants nothing to do with Kalim anymore. Come book 5 though, Jamil informs us that he has decided to stay by Kalim's side for now, as it just isn't feasible for him to "break free" right away (Jamil wants to work on rebuilding his reputation, which has taken a plummet since book 4).

Now, before I move on with my thoughts, I want to point out a difference in how EN and JP presents Jamil and Kalim's relationship. JP is very clear in delineating that Jamil is a servant and Kalim is the master. Meanwhile, EN obfuscates the true nature of their relationship by labeling Jamil an "employee" and Kalim as the "employer", which come across as less of a power dynamic than that of servant and master and thus dampens the seriousness of his eventual emotional breakdown.

Another major difference which may impact how you see the duo is some book 4 dialogue changes. When asked by Grim why he doesn’t stand up to Kalim, Jamil very explicitly says in JP that Kalim’s father could make the Viper family suffer for it. In EN, this was changed to Jamil complaining that his parents would lecture him. In the original JP text, Jamil then continues and says that his whole family would be put out on the streets due to his own selfishness, and that’s something he won’t allow to happen. He also remarks that “this is the fate of those born a Viper”, referring to generational trauma. In EN, this doesn’t happen; Jamil just implies he doesn’t want to get scolded, which is admittedly a much… lesser consequence than what was stated in JP.

Please note that these differences between the original script and the localization may affect how some fans interpret Kalim and Jamil's relationship.

These are things I've mentioned in other discussions of "potential solutions" to this conflict, but I'll repeat them here before going into more detail since they are relevant. In book 4, Kalim offers Jamil whatever he wants (even the dorm seat and Kalim going home to his family). To this, Jamil refuses and states very clearly that "as long as Kalim exists", he can never be content. I feel that oftentimes this is interpreted very literally, as in "Jamil wants to kill Kalim because he hates Kalim and/or hates serving Kalim". But just because a character says one thing doesn't mean it's what they actually mean. If you think about it, what does killing Kalim do for Jamil? Aren't there countless other Asim siblings he could be sent to serve once Kalim is gone? What Jamil is literally saying does not make sense.

The other way to interpret his words is that Jamil is using Kalim as a scapegoat for all of his frustrations with larger problems that have no physical form or simple solution to them. Recall that their arrangement has been going on for several generations now—Jamil's parents, too, were given no choice in whether or not they wanted to devote their lives to the Asims, but it's all they've known and all they will enforce onto their own children to keep the cycle going. This is the root cause of Jamil's suffering—but he isn't exactly a time wizard, and there isn't a simple solution to something that has been brewing for hundreds of years. It's easier for him to cope with the unfavorable circumstances by directing his hatred towards someone convenient. And who could be more convenient to blame than the young master Jamil is forced to serve? He becomes the symbol, nay the face, of what Jamil detests about the system that put him here. This is a case of generational trauma and Jamil not knowing how to cope with it other than lashing out at someone who is unaware of his suffering.

On the other side of this equation, Kalim gets a lot of flack for not noticing Jamil's pain and not intervening to help him out despite claiming that he cares for Jamil. This coming from an omnipotent perspective (as in, we have all the information so we feel entitled to cast judgment on the characters), rather than from Kalim's perspective. We, the audience, understand Jamil's inner turmoil due to how the game presents us with each OB boy's backstory. Kalim doesn't get to have that. He may be an empathetic individual, but he also isn't a mind reader. Jamil actively hides his true resentment from Kalim. And if you were in Kalim's shoes, given everything you want and praised endlessly, why would you suspect your childhood friend, who is always at your side, to hate of you or to hate working for you (especially when Kalim is the type of person to blindly trust others)? Of course he would be totally oblivious. The Asims are so obnoxiously wealthy and privileged that they can afford to shelter their children from the harsh realities of the world, and that includes the plight of those that toil for their family. Kalim is not used to people telling him he's wrong or he sucks or he can't have something; it's how he was raised and in part why he remains largely ignorant of the real world. He shouldn't be faulted for how he grew up and the limited worldview that resulted from it; that’s something he cannot control. What he can control is his own behavior, and that’s why we see post-book 4 as he takes steady strides to earn recognition rather than be handed it simply for existing.

On the topic of Kalim intervening (whether that is through speaking with his own father and/or speaking to Jamil's parents), well... Firstly, I don't think Kalim is someone who would intentionally keep another in a bad situation out of malice or out of selfishness/not wanting to lose Jamil (as some have suggested). Yes, he deeply values Jamil's company, but I don't think he would keep someone with him knowing that they would be completely miserable even if he would be happy. Kalim is someone who cares so much for the wellbeing of others, especially his friends. He will literally give you the world at the slightest inconvenience. I suspect that there is another reason why he hasn't spoken to an adult about what went down: and that's actually consideration for Jamil’s situation.

Let's imagine a scenario where Kalim does approach his dad or the Viper parents. What exactly would he say? I suppose Kalim doesn't necessarily need to tell them about the OB, but just telling them "Jamil is not happy doing this" may not be enough on of itself to invoke a change of mind. To the Asims, they get capable people they can trust and keep close to them. To the Vipers (the parents), they are compensated for their work (Jamil implies the Vipers are quite well-off, though not to the same extent as the Asims) and are provided job stability. I don’t think either side would be willing to end a long-standing arrangement like what their families have so quickly just because there is one open instance of discontent. It is practically tradition and mindset at this point. The groups are mutually benefitting (at the cost of individual freedoms). Letting go of that isn't as easy as deciding whether or not it would be pleasant to be punched; it isn't a binary of "freeing the genie" or "keeping the genie bound to the lamp", there will inevitably be a mess left in its wake to clean up after. Again, this is generational trauma which has been normalized for generations and generations. It cannot be solved with a single conversation, the same as all the other OB boys' traumas.

Let’s say that Kalim does spill the beans about Jamil’s OB in an effort to convince them then (assuming they’d need some extreme justification). Wouldn’t that just make everyone panic and further damage Jamil’s reputation? What would the Asims and the Vipers think of him? Maybe Jamil would be released from his duties out of concern for Kalim’s safety, but what would this do to the Viper family as a whole? Jamil mentioned they could be thrown out onto the streets if they were dismissed from the Asims or found out to have so much as spoken out against Kalim. That fear could become their reality.

Another variant of "Kalim could do something about it" is simply "Kalim can release Jamil on his own". In book 5, Jamil even says that he will continue to be Kalim's aid "until Kalim dismisses him". So why not give Jamil the freedom he wants? Kalim himself seems pretty receptive to the idea, or at least to what he views as a very simple solution. Well, 1) there's no way their families wouldn't find out and question it, they are teenagers and cannot just give the middle finger and proceed to do whatever they want, and 2) again, consideration for Jamil. (It could also be said that the current Kalim just isn’t mature enough or emotionally ready to let Jamil go, but we’ll save this point to discuss later.)

Jamil cannot leave of his own will because he worries about what that would mean for his family and their livelihood. (Again, this harkens back to the line he had in JP where he said the Vipers could be thrown out into the streets.) They could get jobs doing something else, sure—but their reputations may be forever stained by departing from the Asims (especially if Kalim basically fires him). They could be scorned, ostracized, maybe even blacklisted, no matter how amicable the departure is. Kalim being Kalim would offer to pull strings to smooth things over for Jamil—but the thing is, that’s probably not what Jamil wants. He wants to be able to live free from the Asim’s influence, and likely has too much pride to accept assistance from them.

I would argue that social shame is a very subtle yet looming threat for the Scarabia duo, and particularly Jamil (especially if you look at the original Japanese text). Social shame is something that is prominent in Japan, and this aspect of Kalim and Jamil's story may not translate well for western audiences. Japan is a collectivist culture. That means the status of the group (the Viper family in this case) is more valued than the status of the individual (ie Jamil). In western countries, this is reversed and the individual is seen as more important than the group (individualism). Because of this, western audiences may not fully understand why Jamil is putting his family's needs above his own, why he doesn't talk back to parents that actively keep him down, or why he doesn’t just… rebel on the spot.

Jamil would bring intense social shame upon his family if he chose to leave or got fired. His behavior would reflect poorly on his family, likely attracting criticism of his parents for how they raised such a rebellious child and perhaps even limit the opportunities they have in the future depending on how intense the shaming is. He would feel guilty about being the cause for their fall from grace. Jamil is immensely worried about what his parents, his dorm mates, and society at large will think of him breaking from tradition and betraying the family for what would be seen as selfish and self-serving reasons. (Ideas which are all reflected in Jamil’s JP dialogue, where he comments on his own selfishness and how it could impact his family.) These may not seem very serious to those from western countries, but social shame and intense filial piety has the capacity to put so much pressure on an individual and cause their mental state to deteriorate.

Remember, too, that Jamil is already facing social shame at school for what he did in book 4 and he specifically says he has chosen to stay with Kalim to regain the lost rep. This is why he cannot be freed from his shackles as easily as Aladdin made a wish to grant the Genie his freedom. Jamil constantly has to consider the consequences and social ramifications of his own actions on his family and their wellbeing. Isn't it plausible, then, that Kalim, who is now aware of Jamil's true feelings but is also aware of the long-standing circumstances between the Asims and the Vipers, to bite his tongue and wait for less precarious conditions before even pitching the idea? Additionally, he would also technically be supporting Jamil's current wishes by standing aside for now (Jamil is willingly staying to aid Kalim in an attempt to rebuild his reputation). Is that not in the spirit of mindfulness that Scarabia extols? Mindfulness is not just knowing when to act, but when to not act. I think Kalim’s just doing what he can within a preexisting system to support Jamil’s decisions and (limited) autonomy.

Something that I feel often isn’t brought up is the responsibility that Jamil’s parents play in all of this. A lot of the blame is put on the Asims for hiring the Vipers as servants, but the fact of the matter is that the Viper parents are the ones forcing Jamil to be subservient to Kalim. They are also guilty in perpetuating the problem by projecting onto their eldest child and urging him to follow in their footsteps. Jamil is their child, so there should be some responsibility on them for not giving him the freedom to choose his own career path and teaching Jamil that he should keep his head down and always be inferior to Kalim. The blame isn’t squarely on Papa Asim (who isn’t even guilty of starting this relationship, it has been happening for generations before him; he’s just perpetuating it), this is a shared issue.

Now, as to whether or not Kalim and Jamil could or should be friends despite the bad blood between them?? It’s really on Jamil if he will reciprocate or not since Kalim already offered the olive branch. As it’s currently going, I don’t think it will happen anytime soon. There’s no doubt that a relationship with Kalim would be a valuable asset (not just for negotiating Jamil leaving and doing his own thing, but in general for the future), but whether the benefits outweigh the mental anguish of associating Kalim with his generational trauma is worth it… well, there’s no doubt that Kalim wants to start over, make amends, and be equals with Jamil, but it’s not up to Kalim to decide to make friends or not. That’s Jamil’s choice, and ironically one of the few choices he does have 😔

I do think Jamil would be happier away from Kalim for some time, finally allowed to enjoy solitude and doing whatever he wants to. Kalim would be sad about this, but then again who wouldn’t be sad to lose someone you consider your friend since childhood? That ability to let go is also something he has to learn for himself, and I feel that’s going to be a component to Kalim’s future character development.

Kalim has been doing his part to keep a distance from Jamil and develop his own agency and sense of awareness (at least in the main story; the events and vignettes are kinda screwy timeline-wise). Jamil’s working on getting over his own ego and learning how to use his own traits as strengths rather than wallowing about what he doesn’t have or looking down on others. They’re trying to improve themselves independently of one another, and I think that’s beneficial for them both.

I would personally label the Scarabia duo’s dynamic as a toxic one, but it’s not “toxic” in the way we typically think of. Often when we see “toxic”, we think of someone who is malicious and intentionally so. In Kalim and Jamil’s case, Kalim isn’t purposefully mistreating Jamil, but their circumstances are such that Kalim existing hurts him and starves Jamil of freedom. This causes Jamil to lash out (which is more closely aligned with what most would perceive as “toxic”)—but, in a way, many can understand and sympathize with Jamil’s actions. It’s like a never-ending cycle of hate 😔

I do find their dynamic (Kalim being a big ol’ gullible ball of sunshine, Jamil hovering and nagging him for being silly) entertaining on a surface level. However, it’s really stressful for me to observe them for prolonged periods of time knowing the family history keeping them in these arbitrary roles 💦 It’s quite interesting to look at their conflict on a larger scale rather than an individual one; it’s a problem with society and systems they can’t necessarily fix on their own, but when the question arises as to whether they can work together to tear down those expectations, Jamil’s pride and negative feelings for Kalim pose a roadblock.

[bookofmirth]

how might acotar5 start?

This post has spoilers for hofas!!!!!

The intention of this post is to talk about how SJM might connect hofas and acotar5 narratively. It is purely thinking about the logistics of the situation, not where the plot could go in the future.

I will have a follow-up post with discussion about why Az makes even more sense as the next MC, based on everything we learned in hofas that strengthens my rationale from acosf and hosab. I decided that Azriel as the main character and Azriel as the connection POV are too much for one post, and slightly separate (though obviously overlapping) arguments.

So let's go!

After the crossover in hosab/hofas, the narrative needs to take into account a few things:

We have readers who don't want to read 2000+ pages of urban fantasy and want to be able to stick to acotar and fully understand that series in itself

Readers who read both series and don't want a bunch of repetitive scenes

sjm needs to think about how to communicate the information that was learned in hosab/hofas, or at least the information that is vital for moving forward with the acotar plot, in acotar5 that accounts for both those perspectives.

So how does sjm manage all of those tasks?

Azriel's POV

Starting perhaps just before Bryce landed in Prythian, though it could potentially start right where acosf left off. Allow me to explain.

Azriel was preset for a majority of the crossover, but he wasn't with Bryce the entire time. This is important! Because he was in and out of the Hewn City, this gives us an opportunity to see what was happening outside of Bryce's perception. Azriel's pov means:

We could see how the IC reacted initially to Bryce's arrival.

We could see their decision-making process in terms of what to do with Bryce

We could see if they made use of the research that was being conducted on other worlds

Bryce goes straight from landing in Velaris at the end of hosab, to being in the Hewn City at the beginning of hofas. We could learn how they came to that decision to take her there. That's not super important, but possible with Az pov.

We could also get a moment away from Bryce where Az is thinking about his own emotional reactions to everything happening with Truthteller, perhaps getting better insight into why he is reacting the way he is when it is near Gwydion, and how he feels upon learning the information about the Asteri making the Illyrians, and the info about Ramiel, about Enalius. We learned a LOT that is relevant to Az, and have almost nothing in terms of his reaction to it.

We could also get a better idea of how this knowledge is changing the IC in real time, as they are grappling with the implications.

This also means that the information we learn via the info dump in hofas could be supplemented with what Rhys already knows, based on Merrill's research. It wouldn't just be a verbatim repetition of Silene's story, but a fuller picture that includes what the IC knows and further implications for Prythian.

We could also get more insight into the argument that occurs as a result of Nesta letting Bryce borrow the mask. It ended up being a huge source of friction, but right now, we have zero knowledge of what was actually said between the IC when they found out.

One of the most important points here is narrative: everything that we learned in hosab/hofas was from Bryce's point of view. The narration didn't have to do that. Instead, the omniscient narrator could have given us insight into Azriel and Nesta's feelings. However, sjm kept that relatively close to the chest. For example:

“What is it?” Nesta asked Bryce, motioning to her back. “How is a bit of writing on your skin … Made?” “I can’t answer the question until you tell me what the fuck Made means.”

SJM does not fill in the gaps for Bryce, for readers who have only read Crescent City. Someone coming from acotar obviously knows the importance of the tattoo being a Made object, but sjm isn't doing anything to help out CC-only readers, here. She is working from Bryce's perspective only, and Bryce has no idea. This is just one example of what Bryce's perspective read like; the entire thing is like this, Bryce trying to piece information together while the omniscient narrator chooses not to fill the reader in on what Bryce doesn't know. This means that, again, we have no idea how the IC and other acotar characters responded to these events, other than how Bryce can observe them responding.

Azriel is quite literally the perfect go-between between the CC and ACOTAR series, as he was both observing Bryce and working with the IC. That means that sjm has given space in the narrative to give us Azriel's pov without it being repetitive. By using Azriel's POV, we are also learning this information anew, filtered through his thoughts and his emotional responses. We get the information we need, but we get it from a Prythian perspective.

It's possible that sjm do an info dump at the beginning of acotar5, of course. Lots of things are possible - they aren't all likely. Perhaps sjm will take an easier route and have Az give a recap, but to whom? And why? Everyone who needs to know will already know, and so I don't see a need for him (or Nesta, or Rhys) to spend time in the book explaining the situation.

Could sjm start post-hofas events, and just assume that acotar readers have gotten on board with Crescent City? She could, but that would be pretty shitty of her to do, considering how many books in we are. The way I have read it, you could read Crescent City without having any knowledge of acotar, and be fine. She tells us what we need to know in hofas. Why not do that in acotar, so it could be treated as a separate entity?

It will be interesting to see what tactic she takes, either way!

[onceuponaneverafter]

Let's Talk About Jacks's Apples

...and especially their COLORS. I wanted to figure out what they could mean, so I made a spreadsheet!

First, DISCLAIMERS:

MAJOR spoilers for OUABH and TBONA + the Caraval series!

This post was written BEFORE ACFTL and does not contain information or spoilers from it.

This post is based on my interpretations and observations, all of them may not be perfectly accurate. The conclusions I make are my theories, not necessarily canon information.

When I reference page numbers, they're from my OUABH UK paperback and TBONA UK hardcover - it's possible they're a bit off for you if you have different editions of the books.

This is a long post, so grab a snack and get comfortable!

I hope you enjoy reading! 🍎

Table Of Contents

Introduction

Why Apples?

A Detailed Look Into The Apples (= explaining everything I say I'll explain later)

The Colors

Where Do The Apples Come From

Conclusions/TL;DR

This is a long post, so here you can see what's coming and skip over to what interests you most :)

Introduction

Throughout the OUABH series, there are 14 scenes in total where Jacks is holding an apple in his hand (sometimes eating them, sometimes not) while Evangeline is there to witness it. All of those apples are unnaturally colored. To look for connections between them, I made a spreadsheet:

For sake of clarity, I will be discussing 13 total apples instead of 14 - I believe the "undescribed" apple (its color is not explicitly stated in the scene) is the same as White Apple #5, but it appears in two separate scenes, so both are included here. I will get into this later.

The spreadsheet contains various details about the apples, such as what Jacks does while holding them, when he picks them up (or if he's already holding them when they're described), what happens to them (dropped somewhere etc.), how he feels during the scene, etc. I will discuss these later in this post.

Then I realized he also has some apples in Legendary and Finale, so I made another list of the ones he has while Tella is present:

Here's a summary of all the apples:

That would make 20 apples in total, half of them being white.

Now let's go over some relevant context! Then I will get to analyzing what these colors mean and what kind of connections I found between the apples, I promise.

Why Apples?

Before we do a deep dive into the details, let's go over the basics on why Jacks keeps eating the apples. The most popular theory (if it can even be called a theory, it's basically canon) is based on what LaLa tells Evangeline in OUABH:

"When we [Fates] feel, it's intense and consuming. It devours us and drives us. And the strongest of our feelings is always the urge to be that which we were made to be." –OUABH page 270

She proceeds to explain that when she sews wedding dresses, it helps her with that urge, and to say that for Jacks it's similar – he has the desire to find his true love, and supposedly that's the one person his kiss doesn't kill. So, according to LaLa's logic, the apples help him with that. It makes a lot of sense, and everything he physically does with the apples makes more sense in light of it.

When Jacks is first introduced to the Caraval series, he is described eating an apple. While I believe the theory above is true, it was also interesting to notice that he seems to already be holding the apple when he meets Tella practically by chance. In fact, there are only four times he ever picks up an apple during a scene, and they are all during the OUABH series. I will get more into it later.

In OUABH, Jacks is described to have countless apples and apple cores in his rooms and offices, so we don't know how many he eats and why when Evangeline isn't around him. However, I found that he almost never touches Evangeline while holding an apple. (With sort of the exception of the silver apple, where he touches his dagger to her lips, and the blue apple, which he was holding before stopping Evangeline from taking the luck stone back from Chaos.)

Now, this could just be for practical reasons, but he touches Evangeline in about 21 of the 25 (I focused on the apples so this may not be the exact count) scenes where he doesn't have an apple and only in 6 of the 14 scenes where he has an apple, and in 2 of them the touch is barely there or brief and initiated by Evangeline.

An interesting comparison is how he does touch Tella while holding an apple (like Blue Apple #1 and White Caraval Apple #2), so it definitely isn't purely about logistics. Maybe it's related to him thinking she's his true love, that's the greatest difference I can think of. It is also noteworthy that he doesn't eat any apples while in the Hollow, which Evangeline also notices (TBONA 284).

With the theory above in mind, the way Jacks touches his apples is pretty straightforward:

He tosses them when he's in a good mood or needs to distract himself

Him biting them is practically his version of self-control

He drops them when things aren't so fun anymore or there's a clear mood shift (I will discuss this a bit more later).

He stabs two apples in total: the Silver Apple and White OUABH Apple #4. the first time he tells Evangeline how Apollo would be eternally heartbroken if she called off the engagement, the second time he tells Evangeline that the Archer ends up killing the Fox. And what unites these? Great heartbreak.

A Detailed Look Into The Apples

Or in other words, let's get into everything I said I would discuss later. After this, we'll look more into the apple colors.

The Undescribed Apple

I believe that White Apple #5, the apple Jacks holds in his hand before he and Evangeline leave to LaLa's engagement party, is the same as the apple that he picks up in the next scene, in the carriage as they travel - its color is not described, but the narration leads to the assumption that this apple is already familiar to the reader:

"Jacks leaned back in his seat and picked up his apple" –TBONA page 184

13 is also a more meaningful number than 14 (and the total count of all apples would be 20 instead of 21), so even though the total number might be purely coincidental, it also could be a fun intentional detail.

Caraval vs. OUABH

There are some very interesting parallels between apples in Legendary/Finale and apples in OUABH/TBONA.

First, we have the blue apple (in Legendary) that Jacks ends up dropping into a fireplace (see chart below). The only other apple that he specifically drops into fire is the very last white apple in TBONA. Before he drops the blue apple, Tella says that nothing could make her fall in love with him. Before he drops the white apple, Evangeline suggests that maybe Jacks could find another true love.

Second, every apple is either last seen still in his hand or dropped on the floor/ground (or fire), except for two: the sparkling white one in Finale (in Tella's dream again) and the pink one in OUABH, which he tosses to Tella and Evangeline. He directly encourages Tella to taste the white apple, and he tells Evangeline that she might need a snack. In terms of color, the sparkling white apple is especially interesting – I will look into the sparkling later along with the colors.

"Jacks picked up his apple"

The main difference between the Caraval and OUABH apples - and the one thing that keeps messing up my theories - is that during the Caraval series, Jacks never picks up an apple during a scene, he is always already holding one when the scene begins (see chart above). However, during OUABH and TBONA, he picks up four apples in total. And they are all white.

White Apple #1: Meeting Evangeline for the first time

White Apple #3: Evangeline says she'd stab Jacks if she got the chance to

White Apple #5: Evangeline forbids Jacks from killing people at LaLa's party

White Apple #7: Jacks lets go of Evangeline and shuts off from her, he's about to tell her the truth about planning to go back in time

All of them are different in terms of why exactly he picks up the apple, but there is more or less a shift in tone/topic of their conversation during all of these scenes.

The Colors

White Apples

I think that white apples are the "default" color, and/or they represent focusing on what's important.

They make up half of the apples Jacks has, and all of the apples he spontaneously picks up are white. So, if something like his emotions or circumstances affect the apple colors (which I think is at least somewhat the case), it makes sense for white to be the basic color – and what would be a better "default" apple than the one who reminds him not to get distracted.

Even though the apple he tosses to Tella is sparkling white, I don't think the color represents her because he was holding a white apple before he met Tella. He couldn't have been thinking of her, but he most likely had plans that he was thinking over as he was hoping to take the throne from Elantine.

Black Apples

I originally thought the black color could mean bad intentions or regret, but I'm now quite sure it represents doing whatever it takes to get what he wants. The context surrounding the black apples highlights this:

Black Apple #1: Jacks offers his help in exchange for controlling Tella's emotions. He wants to find true love more than anything, and this is his last attempt to make Tella fall for him.

Black Apple #2: He's controlling Apollo in order to make him propose to Evangeline. He needs it, again, in order to reach his goal – only this time he's planning to go back in time. Still to find true love, though.

Black Apple #3: This one stands out a bit from the other two. Jacks brings Evangeline to Chaos' castle so she can be healed after Apollo shot her. Here the black apple might symbolize doing anything to keep Evangeline alive (he also needs her alive, so that checks out, but at this point I don't think it's just that), and possibly his reluctance to either ask Chaos for help or put Evangeline through being infected with vampire venom.

Blue Apples

Blue apples seem to represent happiness and success, because we tend to see them after something went just like Jacks wanted. This could also be connected to his eye color.

Blue Apple #1: It's the first apple we see after Tella didn't die of his kiss, and he's obviously more than happy about that.

Blue Apple #2. He got into Tella's dream, for the second time, and he had successfully tricked her into the "marriage thing" before.

Blue Apple #3. He is holding this one right after Evangeline agreed to open the Valory Arch, while the apple he held in the previous scene (only five pages earlier) was white.

The Golden Apple

The apples that there are just one of are the trickiest because there's less context to go by, but I think the golden apple represents Tella. It's the first one we see in his hand after the events of Finale, and Tella's hair color is close enough to it. She is also a princess now, which the color gold could also represent.

It's worth mentioning that it could also be tied to failure, heartbreak, or Jacks's own hair color (as it is often described as golden). He also lives in the North now, known as Lord Jacks, and he's "friends" (?) with Apollo, a prince, so it could be related to that as well.

The Silver Apple

I think the silver apple is like a "milder" version of the blue apple, in which case the apple representing happiness would definitely be intentionally the same color as his eyes: The Caraval Wiki describes his eye color as "silver-blue".

When Jacks has the silver apple, Evangeline has got married to Apollo just like he wanted, but everything isn't perfect yet. He's quite content, but it isn't quite as big satisfaction as when he has a blue apple. However, because Evangeline asked him to meet, the apple's color could also represent for example curiosity.

The Pink Apple

Because of Evangeline's hair color, the pink apple seems to intuitively represent her. Not only that, he's just spent the night holding her before he appears with the pink apple in hand, so it just makes a lot of sense to me. This is also the apple he tossed to her.

The Purple Apple

I've had the most trouble with the purple apple. It being the apple he holds after talking with Scarlett and the scene leading to Tella's discovery that his heart beats, and the only purple apple during any book and scene, I don't even know where to start.

While basic color symbolism is connected to the apple colors loosely at most, purple as a symbol for royalty, nobility, and power could make sense if he wanted to emphasize those qualities while talking to Scarlett. Purple is also associated with mystery, and with us and Tella not finding out immediately why he met with Scarlett, it could also be a storytelling element.

Bonus: Sparkling/shimmering Apples

There are some apples that deserve a special mention, and that's the ones that are described as sparkling or shimmering.

White Caraval Apple #3, "sparkling white": This is the apple that Jacks gives to Tella (in her dream), urging her to taste it.

Black Apple #3, "shimmering black": And this apple is in TBONA, when Jacks brings Evangeline to Chaos' castle to be healed.

The only similarity between them that I've found so far is that they both stand out from the other white and blue apples: the sparkling white apple is the only white apple that Jacks gives to someone else, and the shimmering black apple is the third one that stands out to me (see "Black Apples" above).

Where Do The Apples Come From

A very good and for now unanswered question is where Jacks gets the apples from. Does he pick them from a tree? What tree? What color are they, do they start off as natural apples or maybe white? What makes an apple something other than their default color? For these questions, I don't have solid theories yet, only speculation.

We're all obsessed with how intensely Fates feel when they do feel something (*cough* the end of TBONA *cough*), but I also think that it could have something to do with the apples, at least some of them. When Jacks feels something or spends a lot of time thinking of something, maybe it could somehow affect the apples' colors? Some of the apples seem to be connected to his emotions, such as the blue ones. No apples are seen changing colors and some apples seem to not have a direct connection to his emotions, though, so there is little evidence to support this.

Conclusions

To summarize everything I went over above,

There are 20 apples in total that Jacks is seen holding throughout every scene he is in, seven of them during the Caraval series and 13 during OUABH and TBONA.

What Jacks does with his apples (tossing, biting, picking up, dropping) is connected to his emotions.

The apples have different colors that I believe represent different things: white (10 of 20, focusing on what's important), black (3 of 20, doing whatever it takes), blue (3 of 20, happiness), gold (1 of 20, possibly Tella? multiple possibilities), silver (1 of 20, possibly happiness mixed with something else), pink (1 of 20, Evangeline?), and purple (1 of 20, power? nobility? mystery?).

The origin of the apples is for now unknown, as is the reason for each color (both the colors' meanings and how they take on the different colors).

With all that said, there is quite much room for interpretation, especially in terms of the apple colors. My theories aren't the only correct ones, and I do not wish to present them that way. As I stated in the beginning, I might have overlooked details or noted some down inaccurately. The purpose of this post was to share my findings and to have fun theorizing!

Let's hope that we get some actual answers for these in ACFTL and that the books treat us kindly <3 Please do not give me any spoilers, not on the topic of apples or anything else, I'm actively trying to avoid them!

If you read this far, THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I poured my heart into this research and this analysis, and I'm so happy if at least one person besides myself enjoys looking at my little findings. <3 Here, have an apple as a reward: 🍎

[shigayokagayama]

The Beach Omake And Authorial Intent

initially i was going to save this for a big teru analysis i had cooking however i eventually ended up deciding that it would feel like a really long tangent in its original context and probably deserves a separate post.

when it comes to the whole "teru's parents" thing i generally see two competing ideas on it

a. terus absent parents are the real villains of mob psycho and are the direct cause of everything wrong with his life and any and all teru analysis must center around this fact

b. terus parents being absent in the first place is only revealed in an omake and only exists for plot convenience and is not something that should be focused on at all when writing him

and whenever i see either of these my mind always drifts to the question of authorial intent. i know how people are reading this information, but how are we supposed to? i know death of the author is becoming more of a common thing in fandom spaces (albeit usually misused) but i feel like a better understanding of why this omake exists and how we're supposed to read it might help to better synthesize two takes that seems to be completely at odds with each other.

okay first i want to go over the actual placement of the beach omake in the update schedule of the manga because, unlike most other omakes, i feel like this ones placement in the schedule of page releases is actually super relevant

the vast majority of omakes come at the end of weekly updates. you finish reading the usually 15-20 pages ONE put out and then you get a little bonus comic at the end, usually something funny or a slice of life but but occasionally more serious. multi part omakes are usually spread out over multiple updates, making you wait a couple weeks for a punchline.

beach omake is not that. between chapters 99 (mob gets hit by a car) and 100 (the whole rest of the omake) there was a 6 week hiatus from normal pages and in this hiatus is where we get beach omake. reading it all together immediately cuts away the sort of "slice of life sunday paper comic" tone other multi part omakes have and make you read it as a part of the actual main story, since that's how you're used to reading these weekly updates.

now the actual tone. generally the multi part omakes exist to be long punchlines and the rare emotional ones are a single page for maximum impact. beach omake has a very different structure compared to, say, the haunted doll omake or the pot of happiness.

off the bat from the first two pages there's not really a joke. the tone mostly seems kind of melancholic. mobs expression for the middle section of the second page (maybe purposely) is obscured by the panel breaking off, it's hard to tell his reaction, all our attention is directed at teru. with all of the panels taken up by dialogue (primarily his own), we're being asked to focus on what he's saying:

-teru lives alone

-he lives alone because his parents live overseas

-he hasnt seen them in a while

-he doesnt like having nothing to do

-he doesnt like being alone

all of this information is delivered with an extremely casual expression from him, implying that it's not something that seems ll the out of the ordinary for him. mob, on the other hand...

the hesitation before he says anything and the way his expression is obscured seems to imply something is... off... about this information to him. this isn't a handwaved "oh mob is walking home from school after passing out because he needs to for plot reasons", we're reacting to this information like it's weird.

the next two pages are, mostly, a lot more of what we expect out of a mob psycho omake. the first one works as a standalone joke page, teru is bad at identifying animals which leads to him showing reigen a roach, something reigen is terrified of, instead of a beetle.

the second page starts similarly, we get a dumbass joke about reigen trying to pick up women at the beach (note: i think this is the singular time we get an indication reigen is even into women) but then the next two panels take on a more melancholic tone again. we get a small panel of mob and ritsu playing on the beach and a much, much larger panel of teru sitting on the beach, watching them. the dialogue bubble forces us to pay attention to the fact that he is silent.

the ending of this omake is where we bring it home. generally the last panel centers the punchline of the page, or of the whole omake, but the final panel of this isn't really what was being built to in this case.

we start our second page on teru. his expression is obscured, reigens speech bubble is shoved to the side so we can see that teru's hat is being held in his hands.

when we see his face in full view he looks... confused. he looks like he doesn't know how to react to someone going through all this trouble for him. teru is a character who, up to this moment, we have seen as extremely independent. he always rushes into things alone, he always has to be the hero, he always has to be the one to save the day. hell, this omake is immediately followed by the confession arc. where... you know.

so what are we supposed to get out of this omake?

teru's been doing everything on his own up to this point

but he doesn't have to anymore

[bluemooniegif]

Let's talk about Coats in Bungou Stray Dogs, and what they mean

[i.e. a repost of perhaps my most famous BSD analysis ever]

Mild spoilers for Beast, Dark Era, and Dazai, Chuuya, 15 ahead! (I'm thinking of posting an explanation of how the Beast Universe works soon anyway... lmk if that's something you'd like!)

If you've come across this theory before (uve most likely seen me talk about it on tiktok or youtube), you've probably heard already that the coat or outerwear a character is wearing (especially if it's different from the rest of their outfit) is indicative of the persona that they're trying to project.

You may have noticed, for example, that the colour and the way that Dazai wears his coat changes depending on the organisation and universe he's in. Let's start by taking a look at his Port Mafia outfit from the Canon universe:

As you look, remember that Dazai joined the Port Mafia against his will. He only joins because Mori promises that if he's useful to him, he'll provide Dazai with a quick and painless way to die:

And now I want to get into why Dazai doesn't actually want to die, but that's a whole other post for a later time.

So, Dazai joins the Mafia, rather begrudgingly, and dons the relevant 'uniform' as he does. This is necessary to show Mori and he other members of the PM that he is committing to the role; it is necessary for survival.

The important thing to note here, however, is that he wears his coat off-the-shoulder. Of course, this could just be chalked up to the questionable fashion standards of teenage boys, but when we consider that the coat is like a representation of the Mafia's values... it becomes an indication that Dazai is putting on a persona; one that he's ready to throw away at the drop of a hat. The are three reasons I know this is how he feels for sure:

we saw the exact moment Mori recruited him, and how reluctant he was to join;

he actually did throw it all away the second he had the chance;

Beast. let me explain.

Have a look at Dazai's outfit in Beast, where he takes on the role of Mafia Boss:

There are several notable differences here, but for a moment I just want to focus on the fact that he's wearing his coat properly. That was the one thing that really struck me as significant the first time I read BEAST: in the world where Dazai has to fully commit to the role if he wants his plans to work out, he pushes himself to play the part, regardless of how he feels.

The next huge difference lies in the bandages: here, his left eye is covered, whereas in the Canon manga his right eye is covered. There are several theories we could derive from this: a popular one is that each eye represents light and dark, respectively. In the Canon universe, Dazai covered the eye that saw the light, so he could more easily resign himself to living in darkness. Then, Oda pulled the bandages away, and he found himself running towards the light. I could talk about this for hours, but for the sake of brevity... ouchies.

Moving on. Another thing to note is that, duh, there's a bigass scarf around his neck here. Why? How? It looks an awful lot like Mori's... which could mean nothing. Just like how his ADA coat looking like Oda's could mean nothing. Haha so normal guys don't even worry about it!!

ANYWAY. Coats. Isn't it interesting that Akutagawa also properly wears his coat (a hand-me-down from Dazai, nonetheless) and spends a vast majority of his time trying to prove that he is worthy of being in such a high position within the PM? Isn't it interesting that his ability, the entire reason he became the Mafia's guard dog, relies on that very coat? His entire personality and reason for living becomes so entrapped within Rashoumon that the two are practically inseparable.

In Beast, when he's given a coat that echoes that of Oda's, he still uses it (via Rashoumon) like a shield, and like a weapon... but he tries to learn how to be more gentle. The beginnings and intentions are almost the same, but the outcomes are totally different. Which is very telling. I'll let you connect the remaining dots on that one.

Now, there is one more Mafioso character who wears his coat off-the-shoulder in Canon. But for some reason, in BEAST, he doesn't wear a coat at all... Strange, right?

I am, of course, talking about Chuuya. And the thing about Chuuya is that defining the representative idea of his coat is much more difficult than it was with Dazai, purely because there was so much going on at the time he joined the Mafia. He was betrayed by his closest family, while simultaneously feeling like he betrayed them. He had no choice but to accept Dazai's offer, which was actually Mori's offer. He'd been backed into this corner by Dazai, but also by the Sheep, and he'd lost everything, but was being offered all the things he used to pine after: answers, protection, relative safety. Maybe even family, something he could devote himself to- but all this lay in the hands of the organisation he'd promised to eradicate. He was going through it, as the poets say.

Personally, if I were to assign his coat with a specific ideal/persona, it would be this: acceptance of the Mafia, and hatred towards Dazai. Just like Dazai, wearing his coat off-the-shoulder indicates that he doesn't fully prescribe to their ideals... but in this instance, it also means that he doesn't truly hate Dazai like he claims.

I know, fork in the kitchen. But I also want to point out something that helps drive this perspective home for me: whenever they fight together, as Soukoku, Chuuya takes his coat off. He has a lot of fighting quirks, actually- he always keeps his hands in his pockets (something that is echoed by Dazai ohmygod I cry whenever I think about it), takes his hat off for Corruption (this is discussed in-depth in Storm Bringer), takes off his gloves when he wants to ramp up Tainted Sorrow. But, just like the coat, this only happens whenever Dazai is around. Chuuya literally and figuratively bares himself to Dazai, which can be read as something necessary for him to be saved by No Longer Human, yes, but it would be remis of anyone to ignore the fact of their trust in one another.

There's one more reason that I think these two ideals are so intertwined: it is, you guessed it, Beast!

The interesting thing is that here, where you'd almost expect him to wear something similar, Chuuya simply doesn't have a coat at all. Why is that?

If we follow the same logic that we did for Dazai, we can assume immediately that Chuuya doesn't want to hide behind a facade here. He has no facade to consider hiding behind. He's honest about his work with the PM, and open about his complex feelings towards Dazai- mostly his hatred, though that manifests purely because he's frustrated; a part of him knows Dazai can be doing better, or working differently, but he can't understand why. Or maybe he does understand why, and this frustrates him even more.

It's extremely complicated, and I feel like the way I've said things makes no sense, but I hope it's at least got you thinking. What does this truly mean for Chuuya? What does it mean for Atsushi, who doesn't wear a coat in canon, but does in Beast?

(I already have a post delving into Atsushi's character design, which I think is genuinely one of the coolest things ever!! I don't discuss Beast in it, but it's a great starting point if you're interested <3)

I feel like I've rambled on too much, but I'm fighting brain fog rn so this is as coherent as it gets. I hope this has helped you learn something, or made you interested in delving deeper into costume design in BSD as a whole. I kiss you mwah!!!

[5ummit]

Permanent Blacklists for AO3

Would you like to permanently remove fics with your squicks, triggers, and dislikes from all AO3 searches by default so that you never have to think about or encounter them again? Well now you can!

The ability to do this has actually been around for a little while but it relies on some new CSS functionality that wasn't supported on all major browsers until fairly recently (though you may still have to enable it manually on some). I'm not going to explain how this method works or how to code AO3 skins in general, as I've only dabbled in it a little and there are already some very good tutorials out there. If you want all of the details, check out these guides:

Skins and Archive Interface FAQ – The official skins guide created by AO3. Lots of good information but might be overwhelming and confusing for a beginner.

A Non-Extensive Guide on How to Start Creating a Skin for AO3 by ao3skin – Some good, fairly easy to understand, beginner info on CSS and specifically how it applies to AO3 skins.

Permablocking Specific Tags - Site Skin by Eli0t – Everything you need to know to create permablock lists. If your blacklist doesn't seem to be working as expected, check this for troubleshooting tips.

What I can offer though are some handy pre-made blacklists that you can use as-is or as a starting point to create your own so that you don't have to go to the trouble of figuring out how any of this works or hunting down relevant tags. Just copy the code, open AO3, go to My Preferences > Skins > Create Site Skin, paste it in the box, title it, and click Submit!

Note: The following lists are very specific to me and my own personal tastes. Absolutely no judgement if you love any of the things that I choose to blacklist. You do you. I just happen to like my fics fucked up and relatively canonical.

★ No Reader Fic – Hides all self-insert and reader fic.

★ No Alternate Universes – Hides anything tagged with the most common AU tags. There are so many incredibly specific AUs there's no way to list all of them and AU tagging is also extremely inconsistent from fic to fic so this blacklist may only catch 80% of AUs, but that's better than nothing. You could always exclude the entire alternate universe tag, rather than trying to list specific ones, but unfortunately canon divergence and other less extreme AUs would get caught in the crossfire, which is not worth it for me.

★ No Fluff – Hides anything tagged with the most common fluff and romance tags. I specifically left out "fluff and angst" though because sometimes that's used for things that are mostly angst with only a bit of fluff and I do love angst.

★ Bonus: No Dead Dove – This list is not mine (for obvious reasons) but I know some people may find it useful. Hides anything with the main archive warnings and many common problematic, taboo, or controversial tags. Some of these I wouldn't even classify as dead dove, they're literally just kinks, so I'd suggest reviewing the list carefully and removing any that don't apply to you.

Additional Notes:

This system doesn't work exactly the same as AO3's exclusion filters because you can't use top-level wrangled tags to block all subtags. It only blocks exact matches.

Once the blacklist is implemented you'll see no indication that anything was blocked (except for fewer fics listed on each search page); the entire blurb will be hidden. The tags and fic counts listed in the filter bar will remain unchanged. If you want more advanced features like whitelisting or adding something to indicate when a fic was removed, check out the permablocking guide by Eli0t.

Here's a link with info on which browsers currently support the new "has()" element, which this blacklist system relies on. As of right now Firefox for desktop still has to be manually enabled (for instructions see the section on flag enabling in the permablocking guide). Firefox for iOS isn't listed on this website but it seems to work fine for me.

There are other browser-specific extensions that let you permablock tags, such as this one and this one, that may be more a little more user friendly, but I've never tried them so I can't vouch for them and they may not work consistently between different devices. The good thing about doing blacklists via skins is that, after setting it up once, it should work automatically on pretty much any device (as long as you're logged in to your AO3 account).

[goqmir]

bloomburrow might have the title for the strongest complete set of face commanders on average for any commander product. all four of these guys just have absurd lines of text on them.

Bello working off of both enchantments and artifacts is incredibly open-ended, and making each of them 4/4s with indestructable is by far the silliest part. the card gives you a lot of leeway. you can use both artifacts and enchantments for the best of both; they all are given haste, so you don't have to set up before you pop off; they all are given indestructible, so you're never punished for swinging board; they are each given an individual card draw instance, so you have plenty of cards to work with. bello is in my opinion the strongest of the bunch because he's so much more honest than the other three and still does all that!

Hazel is one of my favorite magic characters ever. god i love her. she's the face of my new golgari storm deck i'm excited to showcase at my table tonight :) in my opinion Hazel is so strong because she just does so much! mana? big check. she'll make all the mana you need as long as her and her army stick on the field. plus, she makes the army herself with the populate effect every end step! Hazel is technically the most restrictive of the four, requiring a tap to make mana and an end step to make tokens. however, Hazel's effects are so strong she doesnt care. Hazel is, in my opinion, the most versatile commander of the four. want a simple tokens deck packed with overrun effects? check, hazel makes two squirrels for each of your end steps and black and green are packed with solid big-board effects! want a value-pile populate deck? check, hazel can make a copy of any token every end step, and support the deck with her mana ability! want an aristocrats pile built around strong sacrificers? check, that's golgari's whole deal, and hazel turns the sac fodder thralls into mana and then makes more of them! want a combo-heavy spellslinger storm deck? check, Hazel has you covered in the mana department even if you run only 11 or so token making effects, allowing you to stack your deck with card draw to storm off! she can do a lot of things if you just build her in the right way, and she's definitely my favorite golgari commander of all time :3

Ms. Bumbleflower has. i mean. cmon. "Whenever you cast a spell, target opponent draws a card, then put a +1/+1 counter on target creature"? she is one of the best combo deck face commanders ever. any storm count spell loop can be implemented and if she's out she has the potential to make infinite value with the vast array of scurry oak effects, and even without them she will deck out your opponents unless they draw into a counterspell or removal piece. in this way i almost think ms. bumbleflower is too weak for cedh tables (who are running so many free counterspells and removal spells) but too strong at any other table; she's in a bit of a weird spot. still, ms. B could easily be a contender at a cedh table with how light of a touch she needs to pop off. i havent really explored ms. bumbleflower combo routes at all, but MH3's Evolution Witness comes to mind immediately: "Whenever one or more +1/+1 counters are put on Evolution Witness, return target permanent card from your graveyard to your hand." i'm almost sure theres a relevant permanent card that can be inserted in between those two girlies to deck out every opponent :P

finally, Zinnia. did you know that Hazel of the Rootbloom isn't even the strongest token-based face general in bloomburrow commander? this is because while hazel can make copies of any token, you have to first create the tokens yourself. furthermore, the vast majority of the tokens you copy in hazel are smaller, less useful simple tokens. Zinnia makes good tokens. any card in your hand with zinnia on the field can be copied for 2 mana, with the copy being a 1/1. we don't care about power and toughness though (least of all because Zinnia themselves becomes bigger with every new token, making it an effective threat without even trying), we want token copies of strong creatures with good abilities. a token copy of a creature can often be much stronger than a nontoken creature. this is because the tokens can be doubled, populated, and copied very easily! Hazel might make a big board of dorks that can be tapped for mana, but Zinnia makes a big board of threats that have strong and valuable abilities, especially in tandem with each other. if i was building the deck, i'd think Sakashima of a Thousand Faces would be a relevant include, copying creatures and offspringing himself for even more, while enabling legends that go infinite with a copy of themselves (my lovely Omarthis, Ghostfire Initiate jumps to mind!) to be offspringed as well for a GG.

the bloomburrow face commanders are probably my favorite set of them we've ever had. id love to know your opinions: do you think this is the strongest overall set of face commanders? furthermore, what's your favorite set of face commanders? id love to hear! thanks for reading :D