#Reality Capture Services

[modulusconsulting]

Expert Point Cloud to BIM Services - Precision and Efficiency

Our Point Cloud to BIM Services provide precise and efficient solutions for converting 3D laser scan data into detailed Building Information Models (BIM). Ideal for architects, engineers, and construction professionals, our services ensure accurate and high-quality 3D representations of existing structures. By leveraging advanced technology and expertise, we streamline project planning, enhance collaboration, and reduce errors. Trust our team to deliver exceptional Point Cloud to BIM Services, transforming your raw data into actionable, detailed BIM models for superior project outcomes.

[land-surveying]

Expert Town Planning Services for Sustainable Communities

Explore innovative town planning solutions. Our expert team specializes in creating sustainable communities through strategic urban design and development. With a focus on quality and efficiency, we integrate environmental considerations and community needs into every project.

From initial concept to implementation, our primer town planning services ensure cohesive and vibrant neighborhoods that stand the test of time. Trust CEH Consulting for your next urban development endeavor.

[buildingdesignermelbourne]

3D Laser Scanning Services: Explore Easy to Re-Design with Reduced Manual Interventions

The scanner can quickly identify hundreds of surface points when using 3D laser scanning services. Conventional reverse engineering techniques require measuring dimensions by hand and using the results in CAD to finish the product shape. This performance increase guarantees that a given operation may be completed twice as quickly, revolutionising the reverse engineering sector. A towering building's exterior or the earthworks stage of construction are two examples of application cases.

Getting Your Site Captured with 3D Scanning

Using this data, a point cloud or reality capture 3D mesh is produced, which functions as an authentic digital twin of the actual physical location.

For enterprises that require a thorough perspective of broad areas or projects that might otherwise require a significant amount of labour and money to complete, aerial captured reality and UAV photogrammetry are excellent techniques.

Removes Interruption and Reviews

Sites are recorded in great detail at the initial time, so follow-up visits are not necessary. Rapid data collection speeds up tasks that need little interruption. Precise design blueprints are created right away, accelerating field work and cutting down on change orders, delays, and expenses. 3D laser scanners keep employees safe by gathering data on stands from a distance in difficult-to-reach or dangerous areas. The non-intrusive approach preserves historical sites and artefacts.

What Makes a Reality Capture Programme Investment Necessary?

In the past, surveying and examinations have required a great deal of labour and time, not to mention the terrible possibility of human error. Organisations may save a lot of time, money, and resources by eliminating the tedious and time-consuming aspects of surveys and inspections.

For instance, a design-build construction business would normally need to place surveyors on swinging stages in order to manually take pictures of the structure if they wanted to conduct an examination of the building's front. The inspection process using the conventional way would take a long time and effort.

Source

[tejjyinc]

A digital twin is used for lifecycle management. A product twin is used to simulate items that are employed in a system of products, such as a pump in a factory, or to eventually assemble several product twins into a huge complicated product, such as a Boeing Jet or NASA space shuttle. 

To know more about Digital Twinning, Reality Capture and Connected BIM, contact Tejjy BIM consultants in USA. 

[tarotwithavi]

Your future spouse: personality

Positive and challenging sides

How to choose a pile?

Take a deep breath and gently close your eyes. Politely request your spirit guides to reveal the appropriate pile meant for you, then open your eyes. Whichever pile captures your attention is the one meant for you.

Masterlist

Paid services

Pile 1

Positive side : hello pile 1! Your future spouse is one smart cookie. They've got an insatiable curiosity that makes them a total brainiac. You'll often find them diving deep into complex ideas and theories, always hungry for knowledge. They've got this knack for seeing patterns and connections that others don't even notice. When you're stuck on a problem, just turn to them for some mind-blowing insights. Creativity runs through their veins. They've got a knack for coming up with innovative, out-of-the-box ideas. No boring solutions here! They're the kind of person who can turn the simplest of conversations into an exciting adventure of thoughts and possibilities. Their independent spirit is pretty inspiring too. They're comfortable doing their own thing, which gives them a unique sense of self-reliance. Fairness and objectivity are their jams. Emotions don't cloud their judgment; they rely on cool, logical thinking to make decisions. And when it comes to tackling tough problems, they're like Sherlock Holmes with a touch of MacGyver – they'll find a solution, no matter how tricky the puzzle. They seem to have more air energy, especially Gemini and Aquarius. They may have their Mercury in the 11th house.

Challenging side : Okay, so your future spouse might be a bit of an introvert. Social interactions aren't always their strong suit, especially when it comes to small talk. They're more like deep-thought conversations rather than chit-chat about the weather. And speaking of deep thoughts, they tend to overthink stuff. Simple decisions can turn into complicated quandaries in their minds. Practicality isn't their strong suit either. They've got a knack for brilliant ideas, but sometimes turning those ideas into reality can be a bit of a challenge. Routine? Yeah, not their thing. They get bored quickly with repetitive tasks and might struggle with focusing on the same thing for too long. Oh, and sometimes they can be like Mr. Spock – super logical, but not always the most sensitive. Emotions might not be their strong suit, and they might come across as a tad insensitive from time to time. And when they've made up their mind, it's like they've superglued their opinion in place. Changing their perspective? Good luck with that.

Pile 2

Positive side : welcome pile 2! I'm getting that Your future spouse is the kind of person who's always dreaming big and aiming for the stars. They have this incredible ability to come up with the most creative and imaginative ideas that you've ever heard. Whether it's art, music, or just day-to-day conversations, they infuse everything with their unique touch of creativity. You can count on them to be that empathetic and understanding partner you've always wanted. They really get you, and their genuine care and compassion make you feel truly seen and loved. Their open-mindedness is a breath of fresh air, and you can talk to them about anything without fearing judgment. Their unwavering commitment to their values is truly inspiring; you'll never find them compromising on what they hold dear. And when it comes to those times when you need a friend to lean on, they'll be there, providing unwavering support and a listening ear. Their flexibility and adaptability make navigating life's twists and turns an exciting adventure. They have heavy water energy especially cancer and Pisces. They may have personal planets in 4th, 8th or 12th house.

Challenging side : But, you know, your future spouse does have their moments. Their idealism, as charming as it is, sometimes takes them to places that feel a bit too far from reality. There might be times when their sensitivity comes across as a bit of an overreaction, leaving you wondering how to tread carefully. They're not the biggest fans of confrontation, which can be a good thing most of the time, but it also means that addressing certain issues directly might not be their strong suit. Oh, and the decision-making process? Well, let's just say it's not the quickest. Sometimes you'll be caught in a loop of considering pros and cons, which can be a tad frustrating when you just want a clear answer. And criticism? Yeah, that's a tough one. Your future spouse might struggle a bit with handling negative feedback; it's like they take it to heart a bit too much. There could be moments when they retreat into their own world, leaving you feeling a bit disconnected. But hey, remember, nobody's perfect, right? All these quirks just make them who they are.

Pile 3

Positive side : Alright, so your future spouse is a pretty cool cat. They're like a master strategist, always thinking five steps ahead in whatever they do. You can bet on them to come up with some seriously genius plans that nobody else saw coming. They've got this natural gift for analyzing stuff – they can see the big picture and all the tiny details, which makes them freakishly good at problem-solving. They are really smart. They have this insatiable thirst for knowledge, and they're not afraid to dive deep into topics that fascinate them. And trust me, their ability to think critically is off the charts. They're not just about book smarts, though. They've got this quirky sense of humor that might catch you off guard, and you'll find yourself laughing at their witty remarks. They're super independent and have this unshakeable confidence. They won't hesitate to tackle challenges head-on, even if it means going against the crowd. Their determination is downright inspiring. Plus, when they decide to share their thoughts and ideas with you, it's like getting a VIP pass to their brilliant mind. You'll never be short of engaging conversations with these guys. Your future spouse has more earthly vibes. I'm getting heavy Capricorn and Virgo vibes. They may have their Venus in earth or vice versa.

Challenging side : Alright, I'm getting that Your future spouse's brain is like a constant whirlwind of ideas, which sometimes means they can come across as a tad distant. They're so deep in thought that they might unintentionally tune out the world around them. You might need to remind them that Earth still exists lol. Their analytical nature can be a double-edged sword. Sure, they're great at solving problems, but sometimes they overthink things to the point where it feels like they're dissecting the meaning of life. Patience might be your ally when they go into full-on ponder mode. Another thing is their high standards. They have this vision of how things should be, and they won't settle for anything less. It's awesome that they strive for excellence, but it could lead to some frustration if things don't meet their expectations. And while they're great at giving advice, they might not always be the best at dealing with emotional situations. They tend to approach things with logic, even when emotions are in play.

[projectionistwrites]

moonboys and a reader who maladaptive daydreams?

hi, nonnie! thank you for this request, you must’ve seen my blog description haha. this is my first fic request which is very exciting! my inbox is always open so if you’d like to request something, i’d appreciate it. :) anyway, i hope you like it!

IMPLODING THE MIRAGE

Moon Knight x afab!reader (primarily Marc Spector) (10.6k+)

You’ve been escaping into yourself more and more often, and the boys are starting to notice. How are you supposed to explain to them that you don’t want to live in the moment, when the version of your life inside your head is so much better than reality on the outside?

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: maladaptive daydreaming, insecure reader & negative perceptions of self, depictions of injury & violence, kidnapping, miscommunication, SMUT (inappropriate fantasizing, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics if you squint)

imploding the mirage — the killers

i had to do it, i had no other choice you’ve got to listen to the inside voice a bullet train will get you there fast but it won’t guarantee a long last sometimes it takes a little bit of courage and doubt to push your boundaries out beyond your imagining

He was the moon, and she was the stars.

It was serendipitous, how the couple had come to fall in love throughout the course of their divine adventures alongside each other—two servants to a pair of primordial Egyptian deities, serving as Avatars to protect those who could not protect themselves. She’d met him at a meeting of the Ennead, when he’d been called upon to answer for his actions against a human named Arthur Harrow, who was accused of attempting to raise Ammit from eternal isolation.

The trial hadn’t gone well, and certainly hadn’t worked in his favor, but her goddess protector had a soft spot for Khonshu, the God of the Moon—after all, he was the reason she had been given five extra days with which to bear her five children.

So her Avatar was secretly assigned to keep watch over the Moon Knight, to aid in his fight to keep Ammit contained and offer her services should he need them.

He was resistant at first, but Khonshu insisted that having Nut as an ally could only serve to benefit them in their journey—after all, she was the sky, and without her, the Moon could not rise.

Marc Spector and his alters didn't anticipate becoming so infatuated with the soft curve of her Avatar’s smile or the cosmos she seemed to hold within her eyes. But as time passed, they grew closer, and when she saved him again and again, the navy blue of her armor shimmering with glowing silver emblems of stars, he felt as if his soul was tethered to her. It seemed to be fate, as clear as a constellation, that their lives were somehow intertwined and their happenstance meeting was actually the result of some unseen gravitational pull, guiding them through the darkness until they found solace in one another.

He heard her sandal-clad feet softly hit the solid ground, her body drifting down from the sky to land beside him after her short flight in the air. He turned to look at her—the flowing robes of her ceremonial armor billowed in the evening breeze, her hair pulled back intricately with thin glittering bands of silver, adorned with five-pointed stars that captured the moonlight in her curls. She was ethereal, heavenly, celestial, and when she turned and smiled at him, he swore the planets aligned in some brief moment of rapture.

“Where to next, Moon Boy?”

She teased lightly, her nose crinkling with amusement. His hands twitched at his sides, unable to control the movement of his arm as it reached for her hand.

He heard Khonshu chuckle deeply from somewhere behind him, condescending and slightly mocking. Still, he always spoke kinder about the woman beside him than any other being on this Earth.

“I should’ve known you would become enamored with the little star. Nut always finds a way to reunite the beings of the night sky.”

Marc ignored him—he was too enthralled by the way her breath hitched in her throat at the feeling of his fingers brushing her own, the hood and mask of his armor receding to reveal the tenderness of his gaze. He turned to face her, his other gloved hand reaching to cradle the side of her jaw. He watched as her gaze flickered down to his lips, and he smiled.

“Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

He leaned forward to capture her lips with his own, swallowing her contented sigh as she melted into his touch—

“Jesus Christ!”

You nearly toppled forward when Marc abruptly yanked his arm away from you, his face contorted into a look of pain. You blinked once, then twice, eyes clearing to focus in on the blood staining your hands and the curved needle that was pinched tightly between your forefinger and thumb.

“The fuck was that? Are you even paying attention to what you’re doing?”

Marc hissed at you, cradling his injured forearm to his chest, gritting his teeth as your eyes widened in realization.

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry, Marc, I zoned out, here, just let me see—”

“Forget it, I’ll just do it myself.”

He snatched the suture from your hand and laid his arm back on the marbled countertop of your bathroom sink, giving you a clear view of the mistake you’d made—you’d laid the stitch nearly a full inch from where the edge of the gaping incision had started, sinking it into completely uninjured, healthy skin.

“Marc, stop, I’ll do it.”

You stopped him before he could hurt himself even more—he never had the patience to treat his wounds properly, but for ones that were this deep, it was smarter to close them by hand than wait several hours for his magical suit to heal it on its own.

He grunted in protest, but nonetheless allowed you to retrieve the needle from his hold and lean over his arm, tongue pinched between your teeth in concentration.

You were much more careful, this time, deliberate with each pull of the thread beneath his skin, finishing sewing shut the injury quickly. When you’d finally finished, you leaned forward to bite the end of the stitch and tear it away with your teeth. You reached for a piece of gauze, pouring a generous amount of saline solution onto the cloth in order to blot the excess blood from his skin.

You could feel his eyes on you the whole time, burning into your skull as if he was trying to read your mind. You sulked.

“I said I was sorry, Marc, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Your words were soft, and he could hear the guilt that was churning in your stomach. He didn’t flinch when you began dabbing at the drying blood around the wound.

“S’fine. But—what happened? It’s like—you just tapped out for a second, there. Did you even hear what I was saying to you?”

You frowned.

“No, I’m sorry. I just—got lost in thought.”

“Hell of a time for that to happen.”

He chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you didn’t laugh. Your eyes were still fixed on the skin of his arm, even though you’d successfully wiped away most of the remaining blood.

“I was just saying that—that I appreciate that you’re willing to do this for me.”

Your eyes darted to his face, surprised at the vulnerability he was displaying by expressing his gratitude.

“I mean—I never figured that when I’d stumbled onto your balcony all those months ago, beaten to all hell, that I’d meet someone who was willing to patch me up over and over again. Well—at least, before you stabbed me with a needle.”

Your eyes fell again, cheeks reddening at his jab. But he just laughed warmly, lifting his arm to rest his hand on your shoulder. Your bristled beneath his fingers, although his touch was nothing more than a friendly expression of appreciation.

“I’m just teasing you. But either way—just wanted to say thanks. Steven told me that I don’t say it enough, so...”

Now you laughed. It was more of a scoff, really, accompanied by the roll of your eyes as you reached for the knobs on the faucet, rinsing the blood from your fingers.

“Of course Steven made you.”

A lopsided grin found its way onto his face, and when you looked at him again, there was a twinkle in his eye. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you gazed at him—ebony curls spilling messily against his forehead, his lips quirked upwards at the corners, the fondness that was lingering beneath his brown irises. Was it possible? Could he really care about you the way you cared for him?

You turned away, standing and exiting the bathroom quickly before you could make a fool of yourself, face heating up at your own naïveté. Of course he didn’t feel that way about you. You were just—you. Only in the sanctuary of your imagination would he ever look at you and see anything beyond just a nurse playmate, or even maybe a friend.

You heard his heavy footsteps follow you back into your flat, where you wandered into the kitchen and retrieved a couple glasses.

“Do you mind if I—”

“Spare bed’s already made, I washed the sheets since last time you bled all over them and didn’t even tell me.”

You turned on the tap to fill the two cups with water. You were certain Marc hadn’t remembered to drink anything since his most recent escapade as a masked vigilante, and being around him always tended to make your mouth run dry.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You slid the glass of water across the countertop towards him, leaning back against the kitchen island to sip at your own. You watched him above the rim of your glass—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he took a large swig of the cool liquid, the way a stray droplet of water dribbled down his chin when he pulled the glass back, the way his hand came to wipe it away, the plush of his bottom lip supple beneath the swipe of his fingers.

She fell back against the mattress, breath temporarily stolen from her lungs as she felt the heat of his lips hungrily mouthing at any exposed skin it could reach—her jawline, her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. A soft whine fell from her mouth and Marc swiftly lifted himself back to her face to swallow the sound, tongue sinking into her mouth to taste her.

Her fingers clawed at the fabric of his t-shirt, twisting and yanking him impossibly closer, legs lifting to wrap around his waist to press the heat of her core against the growing tent in his pants. A low groan escaped his chest as he rutted against her, pulling back to take stock of the hazy fog of lust that clouded her eyes and the O-shape of her lips as she let out a shaky exhale.

“Fuck, Marc.”

She whispered, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, fingers digging into his shoulderblades.

“Want you—need you so bad.”

“You’re doing it again.”

You blinked once, then twice, finding Marc's dark gaze staring straight at you as his voice pulled you back to reality. Your brows lifted in horror when you realized you’d shamelessly been ogling at him, too engrossed in your thoughts to notice how long you’d been standing there.

“Shit, I—sorry.”

You rubbed at your eyes with your fingers, hoping that maybe if you pressed hard enough, the image of Marc’s body hovering above you would erase itself from your mind. It didn’t work.

You heard the clank of his now-empty glass as he set it down on the granite countertop, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You should be used to the rush of heat to your face by now—just being in Marc’s company caused you to blush uncontrollably, but still, the discomfort of your ruddy cheeks made your pulse quicken. Your gaze flickered down to your feet, eyes meeting the stupid fucking bunny slippers that you wore to accompany your fleece pajama bottoms. Fucking embarrassing.

“It’s nothing, Marc.”

You whispered quietly in response, although nausea was beginning to settle in the pit of your stomach. You were out of control—this man was driving you insane.

He studied you for a moment longer, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but when you didn’t look back up at him, he just sighed.

“Okay. I’ll just—leave you alone, then. Goodnight.”

There were tears pricking the back of your eyes. You wanted to ask him to stay, to come share your bed instead of the one in your guest room, to kiss his stupidly handsome face.

“Towels are folded in the bathroom for you, and there’s clothes in the wardrobe if you want to change.”

You said instead, turning to refill your glass of water in the sink behind you. If he heard you, he didn’t respond—you listened to his footsteps disappear down the hall before the door to the guest bedroom creaked shut with a quiet click. Your shoulders immediately slumped forward, eyes squeezed shut tightly in an effort to combat the desperate urge to break down.

Her eyes were full of detestation as she glared down at him, nostrils flared with rage. He wanted to shrink beneath her disapproval.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

The woman started, and in spite of her towering figure looking down at him, he couldn’t help but gawk at the way the moonlight framed her, her silhouette outlined by the subtle glow of the night sky behind her. She offered him a hand and he took it, allowing her to yank him to his feet without an ounce of gentleness.

“You’re lucky I was here, Lockley, or things would’ve ended differently.”

She hissed, dusting herself off as if to showcase the strenuous effort she had put into saving his ass. He scowled behind his mask, the blood from the wound on his forearm beginning to soak through the bandages of his suit, tingeing the cream-colored fabric a dark crimson.

“I don’t need your help, estrellita. I was handling it.”

She scoffed as he turned on his heel to stomp away, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“Yeah, sure looked like you were handling it—why didn’t you call me? Nut had to drag me out of bed so you didn’t get yourself killed. Didn’t the old bird tell you we were together on this?”

He scowled, eyes narrowed in contempt.

“Yeah, he did, and I said no. We are not partners. We’re hardly even friends.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, the way her face fell and her brows creased causing a pang of guilt to stab through his already-sore chest. He sighed.

“Estrellita, I didn’t mean—”

“Why do you push me away?”

She interrupted, and Jake was taken aback by the question.

“What do you mean?”

“You need me, Jake. We need each other. I’m just—I just want to help you, why won’t you let me help you?”

He didn’t respond, just stared at her as her eyes flooded with tears. At his silence, she shook her head, turning away to stare up into the star-filled sky.

“We’re supposed to be a team, Moon Knight. The stars and the moon—you can’t have one without the other.”

He could see the reflection of the crescent-shaped moon in her glassy eyes, the soft glow painting her face with silvery beams of light.

You’d left the balcony door wide open—your routine was fairly habitual, now. A mug of warm tea was cradled in your fingers as you curled up in the wicker chair, eyes flitting across the scattered stars that were visible from your tiny apartment complex.

You watched him sit down beside you in your periphery, the movement to your left pulling you from your reverie. He reached for the glass of bourbon you'd set out on the table in front of him.

You sat in silence for awhile, finding comfort in the man’s quiet presence. You liked that about Jake—you never felt like you had to fill the air with meaningless conversation. He was perfectly content to just enjoy your company, the same as you enjoyed his.

You heard the ice in his glass clink against the side as he took a sip.

“Are you going to tell them?”

Neither of you looked at each other when he spoke—the question was spoken out into the world, not really directed towards you, although you knew what he meant.

Jake was too fucking perceptive for his own good. Even when he was silent, he was always there, watching, listening, observing—even if the other alters were oblivious to the yearning that was thinly veiled within your eyes, he certainly wasn’t. You sighed.

“No.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, but something about his lack of verbal response bothered you, itching at the back of your brain. You turned to scowl at him.

“What?”

Jake hardly spared you a glance, barely quirking a brow at your emotionally-charged reaction as he shook his head.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly.”

You glared, fingers anxiously tapping at the rim of your mug. The contours of Jake’s face were sharp in the dim light of the moon, features accentuated by the shadows. He finally turned to look at you.

“You know what I think, nena. You’re only hurting yourself. And your constant...daydreaming. It’s not as subtle as it once was. You—You should talk to them. Or me.”

The last bit of his proposal caught you off guard. His eyes had already drifted elsewhere when he said it, staring into his half-empty glass of liquor, but your brows lifted in surprise.

“I—you?”

He glowered playfully.

“Don’t sound so surprised, nena. I always listen to you.”

That was true. Some of your fondest memories with Jake were of late nights spent out on your balcony, getting drunk on cheap wine and sharing stories.

“Yeah, you’re good at listening, but not so much the talking part.”

Jake shrugged, although he nodded in understanding. He was all too aware of his own weaknesses.

You took a sip of your chamomile tea, letting its warmth combat the chill of the evening air.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

You asked quietly, and even without elaborating, Jake knew what you were referring to. He sighed, tossing back the last of his bourbon before setting it on the small table between you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I’ve told you before. It’s not my place. I know what they think, but not what they feel.”

You huffed quietly, although deep down, you knew he was right. It wasn’t his place to share how Marc or Steven felt about you. You sort of admired the way he was so strict in his moral obligations—especially considering the lengths you were willing to go in order to change his mind.

Jake stiffened when he felt your hand rest on his bicep, fingers wrapping around it and squeezing lightly.

“But what about how you feel?”

His jaw rippled, and you felt the muscle beneath your fingers tense at your coy words. You could feel the restraint within him as he sat up abruptly, pulling away so his arm fell from your grasp. He still didn’t look at you.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, nena. Not until you talk to Marc. He—you were his first. I’m not going jeopardize your relationship with him until he knows the truth.”

Anger flared within you.

“I’m not his. I don’t belong to anyone. My choices are my own.”

Jake flinched, eyes softening as they flickered over to you.

“You’re right, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it like that. I just—you have to understand. He—I can’t go behind his back like this. Yo no sería capaz de vivir conmigo mismo.”

“But you can’t even tell me if he feels the same way?”

You asked, and he could hear the pain in your voice as your tone wavered slightly. You’d had this conversation many times before, but things had been escalating recently—perhaps because it was getting increasingly difficult for you to be content in the reality you lived in.

Jake’s eyes were full of sympathy as he regarded you.

“No, nena. I’m sorry.”

You turned away.

“But you need to tell him. And Steven, too. They deserve to know. And so do you.”

You heard his weight shift as he stood to head back to bed, having spent too much time keeping the body awake—he didn’t want his alters to grow suspicious at the exhaustion when they woke in the morning.

“What if he breaks my heart?”

He paused in the threshold on the doorway, glancing back at you when he heard the thickness in your throat as your eyes welled with tears.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Jake pursed his lips, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he pondered his response. Finally, he released a long sigh.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, nena. He’d be crazy not to.”

The smell of cinnamon wafted down the hallway as Steven rose from his slumber. There was a gentle melody floating in the air as he pulled himself from the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his bare feet padding along the tiled floor towards the source of the noise.

She was singing quietly to herself, back towards him as she chopped the fresh strawberries into fourths. He couldn’t help but smile at the domesticity of it all—the woman he loved, that he fought beside, making breakfast for them to share. His heart felt whole.

He sidled up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist and his body pressing flush against her back. He placed a kiss to the exposed skin of her neck, her hair pulled up in a sloppy updo.

“G’mornin’, darling.”

He hummed sleepily, and he felt her chest rumble with an airy giggle as she leaned into his touch.

“Hi, handsome. Sleep okay?”

He reached over her shoulder to steal a strawberry from the cutting board, taking a bite of the succulent fruit before offering the other half to her by pressing it to her lips. She smiled and happily accepted his offering.

“Would’ve slept even better if I’d woken up to your face beside me.”

She threw her head back, leaning against his chest as she laughed brightly—his favorite sound.

“Oh, boohoo. Sorry for getting up early to make you breakfast.”

She teased, and Steven pressed his face into her hair, the smell of her coconut shampoo enticing him. His arms reached to rest on the countertop to either side of her, successfully caging her in. He heard her breath hitch as the movement of the knife in her hand stalled, his body pressing up more firmly against her—enough so that she could feel the hardness of his manhood against the flesh of her ass.

“The strawberries are sweet, darling, but I’d rather have something even sweeter for breakfast this mornin’, yeah?”

“G’mornin’, darling.”

The knife fumbled in your grasp and the blade slipped across your fingers, slicing a divot in the tender flesh between your thumb and forefinger.

“Steven! Shit!”

You immediately dropped the knife and rushed towards the sink, rinsing your wound under the cold water to inspect the damage and dilute the blood.

“Oh, Gods, m’so sorry, love—are you alright?”

You could feel his body creeping up behind you, an arm reaching around to grab yours in an attempt to investigate the source of your discomfort. The warmth of his presence against your back startled you, a fierce blush rising to your cheeks as you reached for a towel and sidestepped, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“It’s—I’m fine. It’s just a tiny cut, it’s no big deal.”

You brushed it off, although your palm was beginning to throb. You pulled the washcloth away from the afflicted area, finding it soaked with a generous amount of your blood.

“Looks like it hurts. Can I—may I help you with it?”

There was trepidation in his big brown eyes, obviously put off by the hastiness with which you’d pulled away from him. You surrendered yourself, offering a sigh and a slow nod.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You found yourself in a similar position to the previous night, although this time, the roles were reversed—and your wound was from an unfortunate kitchen incident, not a scuffle with a group of evil antique smugglers.

Steven’s bottom lip was pulled between his teeth as he secured a piece of gauze on the injury with medical tape, winding it around your palm so it fit snugly against the area. His hands were nimble and his touch was painfully gentle, the pads of his fingers just barely skimming over your skin in an effort to prevent you from more discomfort. A chill crept up your spine at the close proximity.

He looked rather satisfied with himself when he’d finished, shoving the medical supplies back into the bin beneath your sink that you had specially packed for him.

“There we are—good as new.”

He smiled cheerily at you, and it was so contagious that you couldn’t help but grin back at him. Your mind briefly darted back to your conversation with Jake the night before; then the unholy thoughts you’d been having this morning when Steven had snuck up on you. Gods, you really were getting out of control...

Steven led you from the bathroom and you returned to your post, rinsing the knife and the sliced strawberries to ensure they weren’t contaminated. You stepped over to the stove to check the steel-cut oatmeal that had been simmering—Steven’s favorite. You gave it a few good stirs before deciding that it was finished, filling up two bowls with generous servings and sprinkling the top with strawberries, brown sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon. Steven was already seated at you breakfast bar when you turned to offer him his meal.

“Bon apétit.”

You flourished playfully, passing the bowl in front of him as you seated yourself on the stool across the way. His eyes crinkled with appreciation when he smiled.

“Oh, it smells bloody lovely. Thank you, darling.”

He always called you that, you rationalized. It was nothing more than a term of endearment—a friendly pet name.

You ate in silence for awhile, save for the sound of silverware clinking against porcelain and the birds chirping from your open window. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow him as he slipped a strawberry past his lips, something reminiscent of a moan escaping him as he savored the flavor of the fruit. Your face flushed bright red.

“Yes, darling—just like that, please.”

He was whimpering beneath her, pupils blown wide as he gazed up at her from where she straddled him, sliding her naked and exposed core over his boxer-clad erection.

“You wanna be inside me, Steven?”

She cooed, leaning forward to kiss along his stubbled jawline, and he moaned wantonly, hips rutting up against her.

“Gods, yes, love, please, I can’t—”

“S’there somethin’ on my face?”

Panic flooded you at the bewildered expression on Steven’s face, his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth in case you'd been gawking at some remnants of food on the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, eyes wide and cheeks already turning pink.

“I—No, no, there’s not, I—sorry. I was just—just thinking.”

He gave you a brief scrutinizing look before shrugging and diving back into the remainder of his oatmeal.

“What were you thinkin’ about?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Oh, it’s—nothing, really. Sometimes I just—space out, I guess.”

You offered sheepishly, toying with the last few bites of your food with your spoon—your appetite was suddenly gone.

“You seem to do that a lot, yeah? S’everything alright?”

“Yes.”

You answered him a bit too quickly, hastily jumping to end the conversation before it even began. His brows furrowed, watching as you quickly grabbed both bowls to busy yourself with cleaning up.

He wasn’t quite satisfied with your answer—in fact, it only served to startle him more. He watched you carefully as you began to viciously scrub at the blue porcelain bowls with a sponge.

“Are you...sure? I’m just—you’re worryin’ me a bit, yeah? And with last night, with Marc—if somethin’s the matter, you know you can always talk to us, ‘lright?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to take in a slow, careful breath in an effort to soothe your frazzled nerves.

“Yeah, I know, Steven—thank you. But—but everything’s just fine, really.”

She’s lying.

Steven was surprised to hear Jake’s voice echo from the back of the headspace—it wasn’t often that he offered internal commentary to any conversations outside of when he was fronting.

And how do you know that?

Marc quipped back in his mind—Steven hated when they argued in the headspace, especially when he was the one in control of the body. His brain felt too full and it was easy for him to get overstimulated.

What—you think she’s telling the truth, jefe?

Marc didn’t respond, and Steven was silently grateful that their quarrel had ended quickly. Still, he knew his alters were correct—you definitely weren’t ‘just fine.’

But the last thing he wanted to do was push you away, especially since it already felt like you were putting up a wall between you, keeping him at arm’s length.

He let out a long sigh, standing up from the bar to get ready to depart for his shift at the museum.

“Well, thank you for brekky, love, and for—everything else.”

You startled when you turned, finding him standing directly behind you, pulling you into his warm embrace without any due warning. God, why was he so fucking sweet? Guilt gnawed away are your insides—Jake was right. He really did deserve to know the truth, why you were spending more time living in your fantasyland than grounded in reality—but surely it’d scare him off. Marc, too.

Perhaps it was just better to keep imagining what it would be like to be loved by them—at least without being outright rejected, there would always be that small sliver of hope gleaming in the back of your mind, that tiny semblance of ‘what if’ that you let linger.

You melted into his arms, face pressed into his shoulder.

“Anytime, Steven, really. It’s my pleasure.”

There was always a smile on her face when they departed—even if their time away from each other was difficult, she knew she could look forward to the next time they'd see each other. The way his big brown eyes would light up with elation when he saw her, like an overexcited puppy reuniting with its owner.

The grin remained on her face, still, after he’d kissed her goodbye and they parted ways. She hummed softly to herself as she journeyed down the hallway to remake the bed and tidy up the room.

He never did remember to tuck in the blankets. She laughed quietly to herself and she entered the room, filled with the distinctive cypress scent of him. She reached to fluff the pillows—

Oh. That shouldn’t be there, should it?

Your fingers wrapped around the small white trinket, strung along on a leather braided band. You lifted it up to your face to inspect it more closely—it was an pendant carved from ivory, shaped like a cross with a loop at the top. An ankh—the key of life—you recalled, as Steven had once taught you. There was a certain texture that ran along the sides, and only when you brought the object right up to your nose were you able to see that there was a teeny tiny pattern etched into the surface. Hieroglyphics.

Shit, you realized. This looked like something that would be in the museum Steven worked at—although it looked a bit too high quality to be sold in the gift shop. Nonetheless, you realized that it must’ve slipped from his pocket while he was getting dressed. What if it was important?

You wandered back to the kitchen and tried calling his cell, once, then twice, without receiving an answer. He was probably already being berated by Donna—oh, well. The museum was on your way to work anyhow, just one bus stop before the café that you worked at. You could swing by and give it to him before your shift.

You glanced down at your phone to shoot him a quick text.

hey, you forgot something here i’ll drop it off for you in a bit x

It was only when you were strolling down the street with the pendant strung around your neck that a thrill of excitement ran up your spine.

What if this was from his latest mission?

It wasn’t something you’d considered before, but now that you thought about it, it seemed like the likeliest explanation. The boys didn’t tell you much about their escapades as the masked lunar vigilante, save for the vague explanations about the injuries they asked you to patch up—but you knew enough to be two-and-two together. This must be the ancient artifact he had been sent to retrieve on Khonshu’s behalf the previous night.

You suppressed a smile by sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, filled with giddiness. You were actually helping.

“Where is it?”

A venomous voice seethed, peering down at the crumpled form of the man at his feet. Marc was hunched over, arms chained behind his back, blood from his abdomen beginning to soak through the white fabric of his suit. His mouth tasted like copper, teeth coated in the sticky red substance as a gruff hand came to harshly grip his jaw, forcing his eyes upward. He sneered.

“I told you. I don’t know.”

Another punch collided with his face, this time connecting with the bridge of his nose and sending him careening backwards, landing against the concrete with a grunt.

“You’re full of shit. We know it was you at the burial site, Spector. We have eyewitnesses. You’re the only person in the world who could have possibly taken it.”

To the man's utter surprise, Marc Spector began to laugh. It was a wet sound, his mask receding so he could spit out a wad of crimson-tinted bile as he chuckled wolfishly, his lips curling up into a snarl. The perpetrator felt fear shoot through him at the look on his face.

“You’re wrong, actually. See, I was there.”

He clarified, eyes glinting dangerously. His attacker stumbled backwards as a harsh silver light blinded him briefly, and when his vision cleared, the Moon Knight had risen to his feet, freed from his shackles.

“I just wasn’t alone.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he slowly turned around, met face to face with intense glare of a woman, her eyes still glowing with residual power. She tilted her head at him condescendingly, before lifting her right hand—the white ankh charm was dangling from her fingertips as she smiled coyly up at him.

“Looking for this?”

She cooed, smirking innocently, and before the man could even blink, she had pounced, wrestling him to the floor and pressing his face down against the cold flooring, cheek smushed against the pavement. She straddled his back, using her weight to hold him still while her fingers made a curling motion in the air—a rope of pure silvery light materialized with the sweep of her hand, binding the man’s hands behind his back with tendrils of starlight.

Her partner was dealing with the other two lackeys, one already laid out on the ground and the other lifted in the air by his neck, one of Marc’s gloved hands raising him up with his fingers pressing beneath his jaw.

When he stopped resisting, Marc let his body collapse to the floor in a heap before he turned back to face the woman, whose chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths. Even after a fight, she somehow appeared graceful and collected—she reached upward and pulled a stray hair from her eyes, tucking it back into it’s place beneath her star-laden headdress. Their eyes met briefly.

“Thanks.”

Marc swallowed, his head bowed low in embarrassment. He waited for the jab to come—‘I told you so.’ He deserved it, really. It was stupid to come in alone.

Instead, he was startled when she approached him softly, her eyes glittering as she lifted her hand to gently brush over his cheekbone, her smile gentle and kind.

“I’ll always have your back. You know that, right?”

He looked away, ridden with guilt and remorse, but she urged his eyes back to her with the nudge of her fingers.

“Marc. I mean it.”

He felt tears stinging the back of his eyes as he sniffed, trying to play off his emotions with fabricated nonchalance.

“Yeah, I know.”

She nodded once, withdrawing her hand from his face before lifting the ancient artifact up to his face, waving it for emphasis.

“We should probably get this to the old bird, then, huh?”

Her head snapped to the side at the gust of wind that abruptly passed them, her eyes trailing up the heavenly form of the aforementioned deity, the slope of his ivory beak towering above her. She swallowed—she’d never actually seen him before, only heard of him in passing from his Avatar. Khonshu.

Time seemed to freeze, briefly, as her breath slowly made its way back to her lungs. The skeletal bird tilted his domineering skull downward, staring her down with intensity.

“Wake up, little star.”

Her brows furrowed, her jaw dropping to reply, but he interrupted.

“You are not a part of this. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Her head started to swim, the image in front of her turning hazy as her vision began to blur. She blinked profusely. This isn’t a part of the script, this isn’t supposed to happen—

“Wake up!”

With a jolt, you were pulled from your daydream—just in time for a hand to slip over your mouth to muffle your scream before everything went dark.

When your eyes blinked open, heavy with exhaustion, you were staring up at the white ceiling of your bedroom. You made a move to sit up, but the movement caused a throbbing pain to bloom in the back of your skull, forcing you back down against the pillows as a groan of discomfort fell from your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to regain your bearings, when a set of heavy footsteps grabbed your attention from the hallway.

He faltered in the doorway when he made eye contact with you, his dark brows furrowed heavily with concern, dark purple bags settled beneath his lower lashes. When his initial shock wore off, his jaw set as he approached you slowly, a glass of tap water clutched in his left hand. He perched carefully on the edge of the bed, mindful not the nudge you.

“Marc?”

You croaked, your throat hoarse and dry, and he wordlessly reached forward, propping you further up onto the pillows before lifting the glass to your lips.

“Drink.”

He said sternly, pressing the rim to your mouth, and you obliged blindly, letting him tip the contents of the cup back into your mouth as you took slow, tentative sips. When he was satisfied with your water intake, he pulled the glass away and set it on the bedside table, the movement punctuated by a heavy sigh. Your eyes followed him carefully, brows knit together in confusion.

“I—what happened?”

You asked slowly, sitting yourself upward just a bit more. The pain in your head was lessening, although their was still a dull ache lingering at the back of your neck. You could see his jaw ripple again as he clenched his teeth, his body facing the door and his eyes focused on the wall across from him. You studied his profile carefully before he ran a tired hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers.

“What do you remember?”

He prompted, and you hesitated, thinking back on the last thing you recalled. You remembered leaving for work, and finding the little white pendant you were planning on returning—and you remember getting lost in another fantasy before a hand clamped around your mouth and—

“Was I kidnapped?”

You asked incredulously, eyes blowing wide with realization as you recalled the sensation of a strong grasp around your face and neck before your fell unconscious. You watched his lip twitch with frustration.

“No. Well—yes. But you, I mean—what the fuck were you thinking?”

He finally turned to look at you, and when he did, you immediately wanted to shrink away and evaporate. His eyes were fiery, burning red hot with fury, the disapproving expression on his face striking something deep in your chest.

“What do you mean?”

You asked quietly, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes, and Marc stood up, running a hand through his unruly curls as he took in a deep breath, obviously attempting to maintain some semblance of composure.

“You almost got yourself killed—bringing that charm with you, parading it around like a trophy.”

“I didn’t know, Marc, I just—”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t let you get wrapped up in all of this—fuck, if I hadn’t been there...”

His back was towards you, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, his body heaving with heavy panting breaths. You felt small, like a child being reprimanded. You felt your eyes flood with tears.

“I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

His voice was firm and harsh as he snapped over his shoulder at you, glaring.

“You can’t help. You’re not a part of this.”

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, desperation clawing inside of you as you threw back the blankets, swinging your legs off the side of the mattress so you could approach him.

“But maybe I can, Marc, if you’d just give me a chance, if you’d let me—”

“Stop!”

He whipped around to face you, voice louder than you'd ever heard it before. He was yelling, towering over you as he snarled, fuming.

“Just stop. If you keep this up, you’re gonna get yourself and a lot of other people hurt. You’re not a fucking Avatar—”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Marc flinched when you matched his intensity, the tears falling down your cheeks a stark contrast from the sheer anger that dominated your expression.

“You don’t think I realize that? Or think about it every goddamn night when I have to sit here, alone, wondering if you’re gonna show up, or if you’re somewhere dead and I can’t do anything but wait.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to swallow your tears down as you broke down in front of the man, your internal conflict reaching a boiling point and spewing out of you without warning.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wished I could be out there with you, doing something, helping, anything—how often I imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t fucking useless, if I was actually a part of—”

“What did you just say?”

Your eyes snapped open, and your anger faltered when you saw the look of pure horror on Marc’s face, his skin looking several shades paler than it had before. Your mind was reeling, trying to look back on what you said, what your mistake had been, but he quickly clarified for you.

“Did you just—are you saying you wish you were an Avatar?”

His body was rigid, his expression suddenly stony and impenetrable as he looked down at you, offering a barely perceptible shake of his head as he grimaced.

“How could you—how could you possibly want that? Why would you ever—”

You could see his eyes turn glassy as he turned away, his chest beginning to heave again as he ran both of his hands through his hair anxiously, his gaze suddenly appearing frenzied. His words were laced with something adjacent to betrayal.

“You have no idea what—what I wouldn’t give to go back to my life before all of this, to—to not carry this weight, to not—I fucking kill people, do you not understand that? I’m a monster, because my life is fucking controlled by a monster, and you wish you were like me? You wanna suffer like this?”

“At least we’d be suffering together.”

It was barely more than a whisper, your addition, but Marc caught it. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore—you turned and sat back on the bed, folding your hands in your lap and staring down at your fingers as your heart finally poured out of your chest.

“I don’t know what else I could do, Marc. I don’t know any other way to get you to actually see me.”

“See you?”

He asked incredulously, face marred with confusion, and your lip quivered as you looked anywhere but at him, awaiting his rejection as you spoke.

“I just—all I’ve ever wanted was to be able to help you. To—for you to trust me, for you to—to care about me, and—and the only scenario I can actually imagine you wanting me is if I’m not myself, I’m a version of myself that’s actually strong and capable and—”

You stifled a sob, your face scrunching up as your arms wrapped around yourself in a protective stance, huddling inward as you cried.

“—I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but I just—I want to be more than I am because—because I want to matter to you, Marc, but I know that won’t happen because I’m just—I’m just me.”

Marc fell silent. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you squeezed your bleary eyes shut, forcing yourself to take slow, deliberate inhales despite your desire to hyperventilate. You felt like the room was closing in on you, the walls shrinking and shrinking and you wished the space would swallow you whole.

“What have I done to ever make you think you don’t matter to me?”

His voice was soft and quiet, and when you blinked your tear-filled eyes open, he was staring at you, a look of genuine hurt on his chiseled features. You stuttered.

“I—what?”

“I—”

You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

“Why would you ever think that I don’t care about you? That you have to—to be someone else for that to happen?”

He sounded broken, his big brown eyes wide and imploring, and the sight made your chest feel tight. You pressed the butts of your palms into your eyes.

“I don’t know, Marc. You’re—you’re a fuckin’ superpowered badass who was chosen by an ancient Egyptian god to beat up monsters and go on these epic missions, and—and how can I even compete with that? I don’t even understand why you waste your time with me.”

“Why do you keep saying things like that?”

You startled when he took a few hulking steps towards you, his brows creasing in a look of frustration.

“If you’re so convinced that I’m some superior being to you—which I’m not—then rationalize that, for me. Why would I keep coming back if I didn’t care about you?”

Confusion flashed across your face as you contemplated his question.

“Because—because I patch you up when you get hurt, and I—and I take care of you. You only come here when you need something—”

“But that’s not true.”

He insisted, sounding exasperated with your obstinance.

“I have a magic suit of armor that heals me, I don’t even need you to stitch me back together—”

“But you told me—”

“Well, I lied.”

He snapped, his arms crossing over his chest, and you felt a foreign feeling flutter in the pit of your stomach as his hands came up to rub at his jaw—a nervous habit.

“It was an excuse, and honestly, not even a very convincing one. An excuse to see you.”

Your head was starting to pound again, a dull ache blooming behind your eyes as your mind continued to reel. It didn’t make any sense.

“But you—you never needed an excuse. I would’ve dropped everything for you, Marc—for all three of you.”

“I know.”

He nodded sadly, his face pained as he flinched at your words.

“And that’s what’s so bad about all of this. I shouldn’t have—you shouldn’t feel that way about me. I’m—it’s dangerous. I’ve been trying so hard to push you away because if something happens to you, if you get hurt—that’s on me. And I don’t know what I’d do with myself if—”

“I’m a big girl, Marc.”

You defended, and he seemed impressed with the conviction of your tone.

“You’ve never been anything but honest about the kind of life you live, the kind of things you do—if that scared me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now. I made that choice for myself.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, his lips parting to scold you or deny your claims, but there was resolve in his eyes. You watched as he slowly walked towards the bed, slumping into a seated position beside you, utterly defeated.

“I know.”

It was difficult for you to focus with the proximity of your bodies. He’d left a generous gap between the two of you, but his legs were spread wide as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and your legs were almost touching. It was unbearable.

“I always thought you were taking advantage of me.”

You spoke smally, a bit ashamed and hesitant to admit the truth, and you saw Marc’s shoulders tense before he hung his head low, a deep sigh coming from his chest.

“Yeah. Jake told me that you might be feeling that way.”

Your eyes darted to his face, taken completely by surprise.

“He—he did?”

Marc chuckled ruefully, scoffing a bit at his alter.

“And I never fuckin’ listened. Told me I needed to come clean—be honest about how I feel, or else I’ll just keep hurting you more—”

“I didn’t realize he’d actually tried to talk to you about it.”

Marc’s brows furrowed.

“Wait, are you—did you tell him that?”

You blushed, feeling somewhat guilty as you nodded. You weren’t proud of the fact that you’d been talking about Marc and Steven behind their backs to their other alter.

“Why did—why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Marc leaned towards you, trying to catch your gaze with his, but you quickly looked forward again, eyes focusing in on your shaky hands.

“I didn’t know if—I never had to question things with Jake. He’s never been shy about how he feels about me.”

“Jake’s never been shy about anything in his entire goddamn life.”

You actually giggled at that, Marc’s tone sour and somewhat envious, but a soft smile easily curled on his lips at the sound of your laughter. When your amusement faded slightly, your breath caught in your throat when you felt a warm hand fall atop your knee, thumb rubbing over the flesh gently. You stared at the place where his skin met yours, heat flushing your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I would’ve known sooner—if he’d have told me—”

You shook your head quickly, dismissing his apology.

“No, don’t. I made him promise me he wouldn’t tell you. And—and the reason I didn’t say anything is, well—he would never tell me if you felt the same, so I didn’t—I just kind of assumed you didn’t.”

“I don’t understand why you think so little of yourself.”

His fingers gripped your knee a bit more firmly, the heat of his hand traveling upwards despite your attempts to stop it.

“You really think—thought the only way I’d want you is if you were an Avatar?”

You laughed wetly, swiping the last of your tears from beneath your eyes as you shook your head abashedly.

“When you say it out loud, it sounds so fucking stupid.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid.”

He corrected, and you froze when you felt his hand lift from your knee to reach towards your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he could see you more clearly. His fingers slipped beneath your jaw and gently coaxed your head to face him. You forgot how to breathe.

“It’s just not true.”

“Baby, I’ve wanted you since the day I met you, Avatar or not.”

She let out a quiet gasp at his confession, face lighting up with delight as he surged forward and captured her lips with his own, whimpering against her mouth as his arms encircled her body. He guided her back towards the bed, laying her out beneath him, looking absolutely heavenly, truly ravishing, and the sight made him ravenous as he worshipped her, starting by dragging his tongue—

“Hey. Where’d you go?”

It was only a brief moment of wistfulness, your daydream, but Marc saw the way your eyes misted and filled with a faraway look. He let his fingers dance across the softness of your neck before reaching to cradle your jaw in his hand, fingers threading into the hair behind your left ear.

You blinked away your reverie, trying to ground yourself in the present regardless of how desperately you wanted to fantasize about how much you craved him, how much you just wished he wanted you—

“Sorry.”

You uttered, voice barely above a whisper, and you blinked up at him through your wet lashes, doe-eyed. Your shame quickly melted away into something entirely different when you saw the ghost of a smile flicker over his lips.

“What were you thinking about?”

Your breathing stuttered, and you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off quickly, the timbre of his voice low and gravelly.

“You can tell me, sweetheart. Whatever it was, whatever you want—I’ll give it to you.”

It all became too much too quickly—the swirling heat of desire coiling lowly in your abdomen, the warmth of his exhales across your face, the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your cheek, the almost taunting gleam in his dark eyes. His promise emboldened you, and without much thought, you surged forward and captured his lips in your own, whimpering against his mouth as your arms encircled his body.

He was quick to meet your pace, his free arm twisting to wrap around your lower back so he could pull you into his lap, one of your hands sinking into his brown curls and the other digging into his right shoulder. You heard him groan into your lips and you took the opportunity to sink your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss as you pressed your body flush against him, desperately seeking as much closeness as possible.

When his lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw and throat, you were pulled out of your stupor.

“Wait—wait.”

You whispered, fingers tugging at his curls so you could see his face. His brows furrowed in concern as he looked at you with worried eyes, his lips dewy and kiss-swollen.

“What’s wrong?”

He asked carefully, his voice gruff but still attentive, and you lifted both hands to cradle his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones as you drank in his features, studying his face carefully.

“I just—”

You let out a shaky exhale, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I need to know that this is real. That you’re—that this is all real.”

He pulled away from you slightly, grinning somewhat wolfishly at you.

“This is real, baby—does it feel real?”

You nodded eagerly, your lips still tingling from the severity of his kisses, and he pulled you in for another one, his touch deliciously bruising.

When he pulled away again, you felt his fingers trace down your arm before he grabbed your hand in his. Your brows furrowed in confusion as he guided your grasp between your bodies, but your hips jolted when he pressed your hand into the hardness of his bulge in his jeans. You whimpered at the feeling, fingers curling around his length to squeeze him. His lashes fluttered.

“Yeah, baby—you feel what you do to me? That’s fuckin’ real.”

You felt yourself grow increasingly desperate at his words, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt and yanking it over his head with abandon. He seemed in tune with your own neediness because pretty soon, clothes were being ripped off and haphazardly tossed around the room, lips meeting newly-exposed skin at every opportunity.

You were laid out beneath him, his body slotted between your parted legs as he hovered over you, pumping his cock languidly as he gazed down at you with hooded eyes.

“I’ve pictured this, too, you know.”

You felt a small smile find your face.

“Really?”

He bit his lip, the pace of his hand jerking his length speeding up just slightly.

“Oh, fuck yeah, baby. You’re even more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

His sweet compliment was a stark contrast to the depravity of the current situation, but you could hear the sincerity in his words. You smiled up at him, reaching forward to take his cock in your grasp and line him up with your awaiting entrance.

“And you’re even bigger than I ever imagined.”

You purred, watching his eyes flash with pride as he leaned forward to brush the tip of his cock through your sopping folds, causing you to mewl unsurepetitiously.

“Please, Marc, shit—I can’t wait anymore, please.”

He grinned wickedly down at you, and before you could even take a breath, he was plunging into you with force, his cock sheathing itself fully within the softness of your cunt.

He choked above you, his arm slamming down on the mattress beside your head for support, his fist curling into the sheets.

“Jesus fuck, you’re tight.”

He breathed out, his expression almost pained with just how perfectly your walls were squeezing him.

The sudden intrusion was a startling sensation, but the burn of the stretch was quickly evolving into an addictive sting of pleasure.

“Oh, God, yes—move, Marc, please.”

You begged, brows furrowed deeply, and Marc quickly obliged, starting a rapid pace as he hammered into you, his hips snapping forward with jarring strength. The sound of slapping skin echoed within the room and only served to add to your arousal, the noises leaving your lips sinful and completely involuntary.

“Fuck yeah, baby—is this what you wanted? This what you’ve been daydreaming about, huh? My cock filling you up?”

You moaned wantonly, back arching at Marc’s words. His curls were falling across his forehead, dampened with sweat, and you reached up to grip his shoulders for support, fingernails digging into the carved muscle.

“Yes, fuck, yes—so good, Marc, so fucking good—”

He reached down and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist, forcing his cock even deeper inside of you, the new angle earning a sharp cry. Your walls were fluttering around him.

“Yeah, you wanna cum, baby? You wanna cum on my cock?” He hand reached between your bodies to thumb at your clit, and the added stimulation sent you suddenly toppling over the edge into your orgasm, your eyes rolling back into your head as you let out a long, drawn-out moan.

“Yeah, attagirl—fuck yeah.”

Your walls were clamping down on him, pulsing rhythmically over the ridges of his cock, and he felt his release rapidly approaching.

“You want my cum, baby?”

You nodded frantically at him, eyes wild with desperation, and Marc groaned as his pace began to stutter.

“Where, baby? Where do you want it?”

You fingers sank further into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Mouth—want you to cum in my mouth.”

Your request alone was enough to send him hurtling over the edge.

“Oh, shit, gonna cum—”

He pulled out of you quickly, hand reaching down to fervidly fist at his cock as he crawled forward to straddle your stomach on his knees—you eagerly leaned forward just in time as his balls drew up tight, his cum shooting straight across your awaiting tongue as you opened your mouth wide for him.

“Oh, baby—fuuuuckkk—”

His hips thrusted into his fist with each pump of cum that escaped him, some shooting above your lip and dribbling down your chin. He grunted harshly as he tapped the tip of his cock over your tongue, coating the head in his release that had pooled within your mouth. You quickly closed your lips around him and suckled the tip into your mouth, swallowing all of his seed as you swirled your tongue around his length.

He let out a low groan before he finally reached forward to tug you off of him, collapsing onto the mattress beside you heavily.

You both caught your breath for a few moments, coming back down to Earth after your intense climaxes.

It was Marc who broke the silence first, a deep chuckle coming from his chest.

“If this is what you’re constantly daydreaming about, then fuck—you gotta tell me. I will make every goddamned one come true.”

Your laughter matched his own as he reached over to wrap an arm around you, pulling you towards the warmth of his body comfortingly. Your smile quickly faded as the heat of the moment made way for reality.

“Was this—I mean, this wasn’t just—just a one-time thing... right?”

Marc pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering along your hairline.

“No, baby. Besides—Jake and Steven haven’t even gotten their turns with you.”

His attempt at a joke fell flat.

“That’s not what I mean.”

You said quietly, and Marc sighed, letting his head rest atop yours as he held you close.

“Sorry. I know what you meant, but still, the answer’s no. Kinda hoping this is an all-the-time thing.”

Now, you laughed, and he swore it was his favorite sound in the entire world.

You had a brief conversation with Steven about your mutual feelings, later—although he was a stuttering mess, his smile was wide and eyes were bright with elation when he finally kissed you. He fell asleep holding you close to him, and you listened to his breathing slow as you began to doze off beside him.

Just when you were about to fall asleep, his arms around you squeezed tighter.

“Told you so.”

Jake’s voice taunted jokingly, and you lifted a fist to punch his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckled, and you tilted your head so you could see his face—he looked relaxed, truly at ease, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Yeah, I guess you did.”

You admitted defeat, and Jake gave you a cheeky lopsided grin before he leaned down and gave you a soft, chaste kiss that left you breathless.

You rested your head back against his chest, but he interrupted your peace yet again.

“Can I ask you somethin, nena?”

You nodded.

“You told Marc you imagined being an Avatar. ’m just curious—what kind of things do you think about?”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, still feeling silly and insecure about admitting to your daydreaming habits, but Jake gently encouraged you enough until you relented, explaining how you’d always had an infatuation with the deity Nut and liked the poeticism of the pairing of the moon and the stars.

“And you called me estrellita.”

You informed shyly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, but you could hear the way his breath caught in his throat, his muscles tensing just slightly.

“Estrellita?”

He questioned, and you lifted your head to look at him, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, it—it means ‘little star.’”

You explained, and he shook his head.

“I know that, but I—hmm.”

His lips pursed, and you nudged him, his confusion worrying you.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before staring back up at the ceiling, his expression contemplative

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just—today, when Khonshu came to tell us that you were in trouble, he—he called you that. Little star.”

You bolted upright, the color quickly draining from your face.

“He fucking what?”

Jake shrugged uneasily, but you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest, recalling the bizarre intrusion Khonshu had made in your fantasy today, interrupting your own train of thought. Was that—actually him?

Little did you know, Khonshu had been eavesdropping on your daily mental escapes for some time, entertained by both your active imagination and the elaborate stories you seemed to conjure up on a whim. As a matter of fact, both he and Nut found great amusement in your investment in the life of the Egyptian deities, and should something happen to the Goddess of the Sky’s current Avatar—she knew exactly where to find her next candidate.

[endelineinwonderland]

Let The Light In: Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Words: 3.2K

Pairing: Paige Bueckers/Media Manager! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Friends to enemies to lovers, reader is actually so incredibly in the wrong, but in this part P is also so incredibly in the wrong, slow burn, the girls are gonna need to confront some pretty deeply rooted attachment issues!!

A/N: Thank you for the love!!! I tried to get pt. 5 out asap so once again, if you see me editing this later, no you didn't!

—-

“Paige, hey Paige, look at me, it’s gonna be okay angel, just focus on me.” You were crouched in front her, slouched over in a desk chair, her tear-filled eyes staring blankly at the floor. Gently, you lifted her shaking hands to press against your clavicle before beginning to take an exaggerated breath, signaling for her to do the same. Her eyes, wide with panic, locked onto yours as she mirrored your breathing.

You had found her sitting alone in her hotel room, dressed and ready for the dinner you were supposed to be at 20 minutes ago. When it became obvious that Paige wouldn’t be making an appearance in the lobby anytime soon, you had told the team to leave without the two of you.

Paige took a deep, steadying breath, her eyes never leaving yours. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I just... I couldn’t.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured her, squeezing her hands gently. “You don’t have to apologize. Let’s just sit here for a bit until you feel ready, okay?” She nodded again.

You glanced around the room, taking in the scene. Paige’s button-up, a light blue that matched her eyes, seemed to hang off her like a heavy shroud. On the dresser, an untouched glass of water and a scattering of jewelry hinted at her earlier preparation for the night that now seemed so far away. The room felt frozen in time, every object a silent witness to whatever had happened as she got ready, whatever had led you to finding her in this state.

The clock on the wall ticked softly, filling the silence between breaths. Paige’s breathing was more even now, but her grip on your hands was still firm, as if letting go would mean losing her grip not just you, but on reality. You gave her a soft smile, hoping to convey the reassurance words couldn’t fully express. “Whenever you’re ready, we can go. Or we can stay here. It’s entirely up to you.”

She nodded; her gaze still locked on yours. “I don’t want to go anymore,” she said, her voice trembling but stronger than before.

“Okay. We can stay.” You shifted slightly, moving up to sit on the arm of the chair, leaning to rest your chin atop her head, your free hand running languid circles over her shoulders.

A few hours later, room service had been ordered and an old movie played softly in the background. Paige had curled herself into a ball at your side, looking over at your laptop while you flipped through pictures from the day's game. She seemed more relaxed now, her eyes following the images on the screen with mild interest.

“This was a good one,” you said, pointing to a picture of her after getting a particularly impressive shot in, her face had lit up with joy and you had automatically zoomed in to capture it.

Paige nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, that was a good one,” she murmured.

“You did so good today, P. ‘M so proud of you.”

She leaned her head against your shoulder, her body gradually unwinding from its tight coil. “Thanks,” she said softly.

“Always,” you replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, hesitating before you spoke again. “Do you wanna talk about it yet?”

A deep sigh left her parted lips. “You’re busy, it’s okay.” She pointed her chin to the computer resting on your lap, waving you off.

You nodded, turning your attention back to your screen, not pushing it any further. 

After sending your photos over for review, you had gotten ready for bed, and when you returned, her back was facing you. You drift off to the sound of her shallow breaths, assuming she’d already fallen asleep.

In the quiet darkness, right before you crashed, you had barely made out a whisper so soft that in your fatigue you’d written it off as your imagination. “I felt like I was drowning all day until you found me.”

You didn’t respond.

—-

You have been horrible you realize. Over the course of the night watching Paige, the memory of her saying "I loved you" had evolved, playing all your worst moments from the past few years over and over again like a broken record until you’d gotten stuck on the words: “I felt like I was drowning.”

Charlie had to take over selecting and sending the cover shots to Leo. Your posture now mimicking Paige’s that night, curled in on yourself, Charlie playing your role, sitting beside you protectively, and doing a much better job than you had at balancing both her work and your emotions.

Tears were running silently down your cheeks, with Charlie occasionally turning to you to wipe them off, her soothing hums filling the room. You vaguely remembered telling her how your mom had hummed you to sleep whenever you weren’t feeling good as a kid, and evidently, she had remembered. It seemed like everyone but you knew how to do this, how to take care of people, how to show them you love them.

Maybe, you wondered, you were meant to be alone forever. You didn’t know how to care for people the way they wanted to be, and it seemed as though everyone else around you had been born knowing. 

What was it about you that made it so hard? You must just be meant to be alone. All your love had been poured into the thing you were best at: photography, it has gotten to the point where there just must not be enough left for anyone or anything else. 

You thought that had changed when you met Paige; she was the first person who could have ever held a candle to your pictures, but in the end, you had chosen them over her. You had chosen yourself over her, again, again, and again.

Charlie paused in her work, noticing your silent despair. She leaned closer, her voice gentle yet firm. “You’re not alone, you know. We all make mistakes, but we can learn from them. You have a good heart, even if you don’t see it right now.”

You shook your head, the tears flowing more freely now. “I hurt her. I didn’t know how to help her. I failed her in every way possible.”

Charlie took your hands in hers, mirroring the gesture you’d once used to comfort Paige. “You did your best. You know, I took a picture too when she got hurt that day. Yours was way better obviously, but you weren’t the only one who took the shot. You were just the only one with your name attached to it, and that’s not your fault, that’s Leo’s. And I know you love the man but every now and then he puts our work over our emotions, and this was one of those times.”

Her words were a salve to your aching heart, but the guilt still weighed heavily on your shoulders. “I don’t know if I can forgive myself for even having ever wanted to take it,” you admitted, voice trembling.

Charlie squeezed your hands gently. “I get that. I felt bad when I looked at mine that night, but I thought about it some more, and I think that’s just what we do. It’s not a conscious decision but like a self-soothing thing. I mean, when Paige gets upset or things feel out of control, what does she do? She picks up her basketball. Your version is picking up a camera. Just start by being kind to yourself. You can’t change the past, but you can change how you move forward. And you don’t have to do it alone.”

You nodded slowly, the first glimmer of hope piercing through the fog of self-doubt, giving way to one of the first coherent thoughts you’d had all week. “Charlie, I think I still love her.”

Charlie’s eyes softened, and she gave your hands another reassuring squeeze. “Then tell her. Show her that you’ve learned, that you’re ready to be there for her in the way she needs. It’s never too late to try.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of your emotions settling into a more manageable burden. “I don’t know if she’ll want to hear it,” you confessed.

“She might not,” Charlie nods, “but you’ll never know unless you try. And even if it takes time, even if it’s hard, it’s worth it if she means that much to you.”

You buried your head in your hands, letting out your first proper sob of the night. Charlie wrapped an arm around you. The tears flowed freely now, in a cathartic release of all the guilt and pain you had been holding inside. For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable, to let someone else see the depths of your hurt.

Charlie held you through it, her soothing hums a reminder that you weren’t alone. When the sobs finally subsided, you felt lighter, as if a part of the burden had been lifted.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying.

“I know,” Charlie said softly. “But you’re brave too.” 

You nodded, letting her words sink in for a few minutes before standing to grab your phone. Ignoring the pang in your chest when you saw all the messages left on read under Paige’s contact, you started texting her.

12/5/22

Just checking in

I’m stuck with Leo, I’ll be in the back asap

Read

They just told me you were taken to get scans. I’m sorry it took me so long

I’m praying everything comes back alright, call me whenever you can P

Love you

Read

Azzi called me, I’m so sorry this is happening

I tried to call you, I know you’re probably slammed right now so don’t worry about getting back to me. Just take care of yourself.

I’ll see you soon

Read

12/7/22

Good luck today

Love you P

Read

Nika told me everything went well!!!!!!

Read

12/10/22

Hey I just tried to ft you

Read

12/12/22

Call me back when you can, hope everything’s alright and that you’re feeling better.

I miss you 

Read

11/8/23

We need to talk

Sent 

“Who are you texting?” Charlie turns to you, curiously. 

Letting out a breath you turn to her, “Paige”

“Wait what?” Her tone of voice worries you, “Okay, okay, you know what, I did say you were brave I just didn’t think you’d be that brave, at least not right now.” 

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed. Your heart racing as you saw Paige’s name flash on the screen.

11/8/23

Yeah

U free now?

Your hands trembled as you typed out a response. “She wants to meet,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Charlie squeezed your hand reassuringly. “I’ll be here when you get back.” 

Taking a deep breath, you hit send and stared at the screen, watching as three little dots immediately appeared. Your heart pounded in your chest, the anxiety you had just passed flooding through you with a newfound force. When the message finally came through, it was simple: I’m not rooming with anyone this time, rm 1503.’

You stood frozen for a moment, the meaning of the message sinking in. This was serious, this was happening. 

Gathering your courage, you took a deep breath and headed toward the elevator, each step feeling heavier than the last. The ride to the fifteenth floor seemed to take forever, your mind racing with every possible outcome. What would you say? How would she react? Would she even want to listen?

As you walked down the hallway, the muffled sounds of other guests—laughter, conversations, the occasional clinking of glasses—faded into the background, your focus solely on the marks on the doors as you approached. The numbers climbed agonizingly slowly: 1500, 1501, 1502….

When you finally reached room 1503, you paused, your heart hammering in your chest. You took another deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions, and the muted lighting cast long shadows on the patterned carpet. The air felt thick, choking you with each inhale. 

You raised your hand, hesitating for a split second before knocking gently. The door opened almost immediately, and there stood Paige, her expression a mix of apprehension and determination. She stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter, still not speaking.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice slicing through the silence in a way Paige must have disapproved of, you think, noting her slight flinch at you.

You stepped into the room, noting its simple coziness—it was nicer than yours, but that wasn’t shocking. A neatly made bed, a small sitting area by the window, and a suitcase still packed in the corner. The city lights outside cast a gentle glow into the room. Under very different circumstances, you’d have asked to set a camera up at the window for a few long exposures.

Paige closed the door behind you, then moved to sit in one of the chairs by the window you had gotten lost staring out of. “Do you wanna sit?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

You nodded, moving to sit in the chair opposite her. When the silence stretched between you, heavy with anticipation, you realized Paige wasn’t going to speak first.

“I know this isn’t enough, but I don’t know where else to begin: I’m so sorry for everything,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve spent so much time thinking about what happened, and I realize now how much I hurt you. I didn’t know how to help you, and I didn’t put in the effort to learn how. I failed you. But I’ve been trying to learn from my mistakes.”

Paige looked at you, her eyes searching your face as if trying to gauge the sincerity of your words. “I felt so alone,” she said quietly. “I needed you, and you chose literally anything over me, that damn camera over me,” her voice breaking at the end of her sentence. 

You couldn’t tell if her uncharacteristically early display of emotion was just a sign of her fatigue or a sign of the true extent of her suffering.

Heart aching, you resisted the urge to reach out for her. That’s not something you’re allowed to do anymore. “I know. And I’m sorry, I’ll tell you every day until we die if you need me to.”

“I was horrible, and I didn’t see how much you were struggling, or maybe I just ignored it because I didn’t know how to handle it. You’re more important to me than anything else. I know I’ve hurt you, but I want to be better. I want to be there for you in the way you need.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she looked away, her voice trembling. “I just—I just don’t know how to believe you.”

Your heart dropped to the floor. You felt the weight of her words, the profound sense of doubt and mistrust. This was the moment of truth, the crossroads where everything you had hoped for hung in the balance. 

“I understand,” you said softly, your own voice breaking before you can speak up again, “I spoke to Charlie earlier.” 

Paige winces at this, “I’m sorry for ignor-“ You shake your head softly, stopping her. “It’s okay.” 

Before she can open her mouth to disagree, you take a deep breath, readying yourself for what you were about to say. “Charlie told me she had taken pictures that day too. I’m not saying this to defend what I did, but to try to explain it because I’m still trying to understand it myself. She said that the reason she took the pictures was to cope with how awful everything was in that moment. You know how when things are just horrible and out of control, and you want to fix it but can’t, so you automatically start doing whatever you know how to do, even if it’s not helpful?”

Paige tilts her head, her brows furrowing in thought. You continue, “Like how when things in your life feel stressful or out of control, you go shoot hoops or something? I do the same with my camera. I just took it way too far that day. I’ve relived that moment a thousand times in my head, and I can say with absolute certainty that out of any choices I could have made, I made the worst one. Saying I’m sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it. And again, this isn’t an excuse, but just trying to make it make sense, or at least a little bit of sense.”

Your shoulders sag with something vaguely resembling relief as you finish. The silence between you stretched, heavy and suffocating. Paige's eyes remained fixed on you, her expression unreadable. You felt exposed, every word you had said hanging in the air, vulnerable and raw. 

After what felt like an eternity, Paige finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “You know, I meant it when I said I love you, and for a long time, I thought you could do anything and I’d forgive you.”

You nodded, hands quickly moving to wipe the tears that fell down your cheeks a little faster when you had moved your head. “You don’t need to forgive me. If you think you can, I’ll fight tooth and nail for it, but I will understand. I’ll always be here if you need me though."

You look up at her, reaching a hand out between the two, an olive branch of sorts.

"I’ll always love you too Pa-”

You’re cut off by the blonde suddenly standing from her chair, her movements hasty as she bends slightly over you to capture your lips with hers. The kiss is just as intense as it is unexpected, filled with a mixture of desperation and longing. It takes you a moment to process what’s happening, but then you kiss her back, pouring all your feelings, all your apologies into that one moment. Lips pressed roughly against hers, your hands find their way to her waist, holding her firmly in place as if afraid she might disappear, that this might not be real. 

Paige's body melts into yours, surrendering completely to you. Your hands gently explore the smooth planes of her back, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her T-shirt. As the kiss deepens, your senses become hazy, consumed by the sensation of her lips and the sweet taste of her mouth. You can feel the beat of her heart against your chest, matching the rapid rhythm of your own.  A mix of relief and longing wash over you. It felt like the first breath of air after nearly drowning, like finally coming home after wandering lost for so long. You pulled her closer, fingers pressing against her back, trying to commit every second to memory.

When Paige finally breaks the kiss, she’s breathless, her eyes wide and searching yours. 

“Shit,” she pulls herself back, hastily moving her fingertips up to press against her lower lip.

You can hardly speak, your brain trying to catch up with the overwhelming emotions swirling inside you. "What..." you begin, struggling to find the right words as you catch your breath. "What was that?"

She stands rooted in her spot in front of you, a deer caught in the headlights. “I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that. You should go.”

[multitrack-drifting]

thinking a Lot about Vox's design and how curious it is that he just. doesn't even have a normal head, y'know? how his face is a screen he can, and does, project anything he wants on

i wonder if it represents just how fake of a person he is. throughout the years he changed his way of speaking, his style and outfit, he even found a way to replace his monitor. he constantly introduces new show formats and products. he reinvents and remakes himself again and again and again to capture people's fleeting attention, and yet he fails every single time, because during his numerous public appearances and shows he expresses no genuine personality for his audience to hold onto, so they only watch him for the content he can provide, disregarding Vox himself just as a tool to deliver their entertainment and services, as background noise. this being exactly why he needs to hypnotize his viewers: as a last-ditch effort to retain their attention

i wonder if that's why he needs Velvette and why she views herself as the backbone of their team - her job is making the Vees a media presence, building the parasocial relationship Vox never could. presenting them not as a team of people built on the shared desire for power, but as a friend group their followers can relate to and adore. in reality, Vox probably wouldn't care too much about replacing them for more powerful allies, but in Velvette's posts here they are, the bestest of buddies, with Vox and Valentino having a very public romantic thing going on, despite it being evident from Vox's private acting with Valentino just how much he annoys Vox

i wonder if that is exactly why Vox despises Alastor. the man using his actual real life name in hell, someone who's been in hell for almost a century yet who barely needs to change anything about himself because he's just so effortlessly charming and attention-captivating that he simply doesn't need to. Alastor's podcast is centered on him and people still want to hear more of it. the moment Alastor appears people immediately switch their focus from Vox to him. i wonder if Vox loathes how he can only thrive in absence of Alastor because the moment Alastor comes on air Vox always becomes second best

y'know. i think about it a normal amount. yeah

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The (open) web is good, actually

I'll be at the Studio City branch of the LA Public Library tonight (Monday, November 13) at 1830hPT to launch my new novel, The Lost Cause. There'll be a reading, a talk, a surprise guest (!!) and a signing, with books on sale. Tell your friends! Come on down!

The great irony of the platformization of the internet is that platforms are intermediaries, and the original promise of the internet that got so many of us excited about it was disintermediation – getting rid of the middlemen that act as gatekeepers between community members, creators and audiences, buyers and sellers, etc.

The platformized internet is ripe for rent seeking: where the platform captures an ever-larger share of the value generated by its users, making the service worst for both, while lock-in stops people from looking elsewhere. Every sector of the modern economy is less competitive, thanks to monopolistic tactics like mergers and acquisitions and predatory pricing. But with tech, the options for making things worse are infinitely divisible, thanks to the flexibility of digital systems, which means that product managers can keep subdividing the Jenga blocks they pulling out of the services we rely on. Combine platforms with monopolies with digital flexibility and you get enshittification:

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

An enshittified, platformized internet is bad for lots of reasons – it concentrates decisions about who may speak and what may be said into just a few hands; it creates a rich-get-richer dynamic that creates a new oligarchy, with all the corruption and instability that comes with elite capture; it makes life materially worse for workers, users, and communities.

But there are many other ways in which the enshitternet is worse than the old good internet. Today, I want to talk about how the enshitternet affects openness and all that entails. An open internet is one whose workings are transparent (think of "open source"), but it's also an internet founded on access – the ability to know what has gone before, to recall what has been said, and to revisit the context in which it was said.

At last week's Museum Computer Network conference, Aaron Straup Cope gave a talk on museums and technology called "Wishful Thinking – A critical discussion of 'extended reality' technologies in the cultural heritage sector" that beautifully addressed these questions of recall and revisiting:

https://www.aaronland.info/weblog/2023/11/11/therapy/#wishful

Cope is a museums technologist who's worked on lots of critical digital projects over the years, and in this talk, he addresses himself to the difference between the excitement of the galleries, libraries, archives and museums (GLAM) sector over the possibilities of the web, and why he doesn't feel the same excitement over the metaverse, and its various guises – XR, VR, MR and AR.

The biggest reason to be excited about the web was – and is – the openness of disintermediation. The internet was inspired by the end-to-end principle, the idea that the network's first duty was to transmit data from willing senders to willing receivers, as efficiently and reliably as possible. That principle made it possible for whole swathes of people to connect with one another. As Cope writes, openness "was not, and has never been, a guarantee of a receptive audience or even any audience at all." But because it was "easy and cheap enough to put something on the web," you could "leave it there long enough for others to find it."

That dynamic nurtured an environment where people could have "time to warm up to ideas." This is in sharp contrast to the social media world, where "[anything] not immediately successful or viral … was a waste of time and effort… not worth doing." The social media bias towards a river of content that can't be easily reversed is one in which the only ideas that get to spread are those the algorithm boosts.

This is an important way to understand the role of algorithms in the context of the spread of ideas – that without recall or revisiting, we just don't see stuff, including stuff that might challenge our thinking and change our minds. This is a much more materialistic and grounded way to talk about algorithms and ideas than the idea that Big Data and AI make algorithms so persuasive that they can control our minds:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

As bad as this is in the social media context, it's even worse in the context of apps, which can't be linked into, bookmarked, or archived. All of this made apps an ominous sign right from the beginning:

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/04/01/why-i-wont-buy-an-ipad-and-think-you-shouldnt-either/

Apps interact with law in precisely the way that web-pages don't. "An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a crime to defend yourself against corporate predation":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/27/an-audacious-plan-to-halt-the-internets-enshittification-and-throw-it-into-reverse/

Apps are "closed" in every sense. You can't see what's on an app without installing the app and "agreeing" to its terms of service. You can't reverse-engineer an app (to add a privacy blocker, or to change how it presents information) without risking criminal and civil liability. You can't bookmark anything the app won't let you bookmark, and you can't preserve anything the app won't let you preserve.

Despite being built on the same underlying open frameworks – HTTP, HTML, etc – as the web, apps have the opposite technological viewpoint to the web. Apps' technopolitics are at war with the web's technopolitics. The web is built around recall – the ability to see things, go back to things, save things. The web has the technopolitics of a museum:

https://www.aaronland.info/weblog/2014/09/11/brand/#dconstruct

By comparison, apps have the politics of a product, and most often, that product is a rent-seeking, lock-in-hunting product that wants to take you hostage by holding something you love hostage – your data, perhaps, or your friends:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

When Anil Dash described "The Web We Lost" in 2012, he was describing a web with the technopolitics of a museum:

where tagging was combined with permissive licenses to make it easy for people to find and reuse each others' stuff;

where it was easy to find out who linked to you in realtime even though most of us were posting to our own sites, which they controlled;

where a link from one site to another meant one person found another person's contribution worthy;

where privacy-invasive bids to capture the web were greeted with outright hostility;

where every service that helped you post things that mattered to you was expected to make it easy for you take that data back if you changed services;

where inlining or referencing material from someone else's site meant following a technical standard, not inking a business-development deal;

https://www.anildash.com/2012/12/13/the_web_we_lost/

Ten years later, Dash's "broken tech/content culture cycle" described the web we live on now:

https://www.anildash.com/2022/02/09/the-stupid-tech-content-culture-cycle/

found your platform by promising to facilitate your users' growth;

order your technologists and designers to prioritize growth above all other factors and fire anyone who doesn't deliver;

grow without regard to the norms of your platform's users;

plaster over the growth-driven influx of abusive and vile material by assigning it to your "most marginalized, least resourced team";

deliver a half-assed moderation scheme that drives good users off the service and leaves no one behind but griefers, edgelords and trolls;

steadfastly refuse to contemplate why the marginalized users who made your platform attractive before being chased away have all left;

flail about in a panic over illegal content, do deals with large media brands, seize control over your most popular users' output;

"surface great content" by algorithmically promoting things that look like whatever's successful, guaranteeing that nothing new will take hold;

overpay your top performers for exclusivity deals, utterly neglect any pipeline for nurturing new performers;

abuse your creators the same ways that big media companies have for decades, but insist that it's different because you're a tech company;

ignore workers who warn that your product is a danger to society, dismiss them as "millennials" (defined as "anyone born after 1970 or who has a student loan")

when your platform is (inevitably) implicated in a murder, have a "town hall" overseen by a crisis communications firm;

pay the creator who inspired the murder to go exclusive on your platform;

dismiss the murder and fascist rhetoric as "growing pains";

when truly ghastly stuff happens on your platform, give your Trust and Safety team a 5% budget increase;

chase growth based on "emotionally engaging content" without specifying whether the emotions should be positive;

respond to ex-employees' call-outs with transient feelings of guilt followed by dismissals of "cancel culture":

fund your platforms' most toxic users and call it "free speech";

whenever anyone disagrees with any of your decisions, dismiss them as being "anti-free speech";

start increasing how much your platform takes out of your creators' paychecks;

force out internal dissenters, dismiss external critics as being in conspiracy with your corporate rivals;

once regulation becomes inevitable, form a cartel with the other large firms in your sector and insist that the problem is a "bad algorithm";

"claim full victim status," and quit your job, complaining about the toll that running a big platform took on your mental wellbeing.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/18/broken-records/#dashes

The web wasn't inevitable – indeed, it was wildly improbable. Tim Berners Lee's decision to make a new platform that was patent-free, open and transparent was a complete opposite approach to the strategy of the media companies of the day. They were building walled gardens and silos – the dialup equivalent to apps – organized as "branded communities." The way I experienced it, the web succeeded because it was so antithetical to the dominant vision for the future of the internet that the big companies couldn't even be bothered to try to kill it until it was too late.

Companies have been trying to correct that mistake ever since. After three or four attempts to replace the web with various garbage systems all called "MSN," Microsoft moved on to trying to lock the internet inside a proprietary browser. Years later, Facebook had far more success in an attempt to kill HTML with React. And of course, apps have gobbled up so much of the old, good internet.

Which brings us to Cope's views on museums and the metaverse. There's nothing intrinsically proprietary about virtual worlds and all their permutations. VRML is a quarter of a century old – just five years younger than Snow Crash:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/VRML

But the current enthusiasm for virtual worlds isn't merely a function of the interesting, cool and fun experiences you can have in them. Rather, it's a bid to kill off whatever is left of the old, good web and put everything inside a walled garden. Facebook's metaverse "is more of the same but with a technical footprint so expensive and so demanding that it all but ensures it will only be within the means of a very few companies to operate."

Facebook's VR headsets have forward-facing cameras, turning every users into a walking surveillance camera. Facebook put those cameras there for "pass through" – so they can paint the screens inside the headset with the scene around you – but "who here believes that Facebook doesn't have other motives for enabling an always-on camera capturing the world around you?"

Apple's VisionPro VR headset is "a near-perfect surveillance device," and "the only thing to save this device is the trust that Apple has marketed its brand on over the last few years." Cope notes that "a brand promise is about as fleeting a guarantee as you can get." I'll go further: Apple is already a surveillance company:

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

The technopolitics of the metaverse are the opposite of the technopolitics of the museum – even moreso than apps. Museums that shift their scarce technology budgets to virtual worlds stand a good chance of making something no one wants to use, and that's the best case scenario. The worst case is that museums make a successful project inside a walled garden, one where recall is subject to corporate whim, and help lure their patrons away from the recall-friendly internet to the captured, intermediated metaverse.

It's true that the early web benefited from a lot of hype, just as the metaverse is enjoying today. But the similarity ends there: the metaverse is designed for enclosure, the web for openness. Recall is a historical force for "the right to assembly… access to basic literacy… a public library." The web was "an unexpected gift with the ability to change the order of things; a gift that merits being protected, preserved and promoted both internally and externally." Museums were right to jump on the web bandwagon, because of its technopolitics. The metaverse, with its very different technopolitics, is hostile to the very idea of museums.

In joining forces with metaverse companies, museums strike a Faustian bargain, "because we believe that these places are where our audiences have gone."

The GLAM sector is devoted to access, to recall, and to revisiting. Unlike the self-style free speech warriors whom Dash calls out for self-serving neglect of their communities, the GLAM sector is about preservation and access, the true heart of free expression. When a handful of giant companies organize all our discourse, the ability to be heard is contingent on pleasing the ever-shifting tastes of the algorithm. This is the problem with the idea that "freedom of speech isn't freedom of reach" – if a platform won't let people who want to hear from you see what you have to say, they are indeed compromising freedom of speech:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

Likewise, "censorship" is not limited to "things that governments do." As Ada Palmer so wonderfully describes it in her brilliant "Why We Censor: from the Inquisition to the Internet" speech, censorship is like arsenic, with trace elements of it all around us:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMMJb3AxA0s

A community's decision to ban certain offensive conduct or words on pain of expulsion or sanction is censorship – but not to the same degree that, say, a government ban on expressing certain points of view is. However, there are many kinds of private censorship that rise to the same level as state censorship in their impact on public discourse (think of Moms For Liberty and their book-bannings).

It's not a coincidence that Palmer – a historian – would have views on censorship and free speech that intersect with Cope, a museum worker. One of the most brilliant moments in Palmer's speech is where she describes how censorship under the Inquistion was not state censorship – the Inquisition was a multinational, nongovernmental body that was often in conflict with state power.

Not all intermediaries are bad for speech or access. The "disintermediation" that excited early web boosters was about escaping from otherwise inescapable middlemen – the people who figured out how to control and charge for the things we did with one another.

When I was a kid, I loved the writing of Crad Kilodney, a short story writer who sold his own self-published books on Toronto street-corners while wearing a sign that said "VERY FAMOUS CANADIAN AUTHOR, BUY MY BOOKS" (he also had a sign that read, simply, "MARGARET ATWOOD"). Kilodney was a force of nature, who wrote, edited, typeset, printed, bound, and sold his own books:

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/books/article-late-street-poet-and-publishing-scourge-crad-kilodney-left-behind-a/

But there are plenty of writers out there that I want to hear from who lack the skill or the will to do all of that. Editors, publishers, distributors, booksellers – all the intermediaries who sit between a writer and their readers – are not bad. They're good, actually. The problem isn't intermediation – it's capture.

For generations, hucksters have conned would-be writers by telling them that publishing won't buy their books because "the gatekeepers" lack the discernment to publish "quality" work. Friends of mine in publishing laughed at the idea that they would deliberately sideline a book they could figure out how to sell – that's just not how it worked.

But today, monopolized film studios are literally annihilating beloved, high-priced, commercially viable works because they are worth slightly more as tax writeoffs than they are as movies:

https://deadline.com/2023/11/coyote-vs-acme-shelved-warner-bros-discovery-writeoff-david-zaslav-1235598676/

There's four giant studios and five giant publishers. Maybe "five" is the magic number and publishing isn't concentrated enough to drop whole novels down the memory hole for a tax deduction, but even so, publishing is trying like hell to shrink to four:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/07/random-penguins/#if-you-wanted-to-get-there-i-wouldnt-start-from-here

Even as the entertainment sector is working to both literally and figuratively destroy our libraries, the cultural heritage sector is grappling with preserving these libraries, with shrinking budgets and increased legal threats:

https://blog.archive.org/2023/03/25/the-fight-continues/

I keep meeting artists of all description who have been conditioned to be suspicious of anything with the word "open" in its name. One colleague has repeatedly told me that fighting for the "open internet" is a self-defeating rhetorical move that will scare off artists who hear "open" and think "Big Tech ripoff."

But "openness" is a necessary precondition for preservation and access, which are the necessary preconditions for recall and revisiting. Here on the last, melting fragment of the open internet, as tech- and entertainment-barons are seizing control over our attention and charging rent on our ability to talk and think together, openness is our best hope of a new, good internet. T

he cultural heritage sector wants to save our creative works. The entertainment and tech industry want to delete them and take a tax writeoff.

As a working artist, I know which side I'm on.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/13/this-is-for-everyone/#revisiting

Image: Diego Delso (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Museo_Mimara,_Zagreb,_Croacia,_2014-04-20,_DD_01.JPG

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

[chibikyo]

Day 17 - Glory Hole

General Shao x Reiko x F!Reader

Reader quickly excels into Shao's personal unit, having captured the attention of the General. He offers you the position of Squad morale officer, which you accept readily. You now serve as your fellow soldiers personal cumdump, as well as the General and his second in command Reiko, both of whom you may like a bit more than you are letting on

Warnings: Glory Hole, Slut Shaming, Objectification, plot trying to intrude on my porn, Reader x others (Besides Shao and Reiko)

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

Y/n ran her tongue along the underside of the cock she was currently servicing, hollowing her cheeks as she heard quiet grunts from the other side of the wall. Whichever soldier was on the other side of the wall was close. She pulled back, teased the sensitive head a moment before swallowing his length down again with renewed vigor. It didn’t take long before he was spilling down her throat with a soft groan. Y/n let the soldier’s cum pool in her mouth as the soldier pulled back. A few spurts landed on her chin as the cock withdrew, but Y/n merely wiped herself off as she leaned over to spit the cum into a small bucket provided to keep the mess to a minimum.

Officially, her title in the outworld militia was ‘personnel morale officer’, but in reality she served as the unit's personal stress relief. She’d heard rumors before joining the army, even during training, of soldiers who served in the sort of role she now found herself in, but she’d only half believed them. She’d been a prodigy, excelling at both physical challenges and strategic tests such that she’d caught the eye of the general himself. Shao had accepted her straight into his personal contingent once she’d graduated from training.

She’d served under just over a month when the General had cornered her after a particularly rough scuffle and worked out his frustration by fucking her throat. Y/n hadn’t expected the request, and it had been a request, but she’d taken to the task with enthusiasm. She couldn’t deny that the general was handsome and she jumped at the chance to have even a small part of him to herself. Even the massive size of his cock hadn’t deterred her, her mouth watering at the chance to please him. He’d been rough with her, though he’d apologized after as he’d stroked a hand over her sore throat, helping her take slow sips of water and massaging a salve into the tender flesh. 

He’d approached her the next day with the proposition of her doing this for their troop, about 20 soldiers plus the general himself and his second-in-command Reiko. There were rules, of course, as she was still a soldier. Only his personal contingent would be allowed to make use of her ‘services’ and she would be given the highest level of respect from them. She was allowed to set her own boundaries and at any time she was allowed to simply quit with no repercussions. He’d told her to take her time, but she’d agreed then and there.

“I hoped you would agree.” He’d said, his gruff voice sending a shiver through her spine. “I’ve been thinking about your mouth since yesterday. Would love to take my time and really fuck that throat.” Y/n had dropped to her knees with a shudder and took her time to really worship the general’s cock.

It had taken sometime, but she’d found an easy rhythm with the unit. A few times a week she set aside a few hours to provide ‘stress relief’ where she would allow them to use her mouth or her ass as they wanted. Outside of those times, there were a few special circumstances where she might let one or more soldiers spend time with her as a reward, but the majority of her time was spent with the General and, by association, Reiko. She relished every minute she got to spend with Shao, content to hide her true feelings and be his bed warmer and whore. If this was all she could have of him she would take it and it wasn’t like servicing the other men of the unit was a hardship. They treated her like royalty.

Her reflection was interrupted as another cock slipped through the cut out and Y/n leaned in to nuzzle it gently before wrapping her long, slender fingers around the base. It was a game for her, proposed by Ciri earlier that morning. Ciri was one of the other women on the team. Ciri had served in Y/n’s roll a few years prior, though she’d quit once he met her now husband. Ciri’s eyes had gone wide when she learned that Shao himself had requested Y/n take over the position. Apparently he rarely made use of ‘morale officers’ and had never offered the position himself. 

 Y/n had only a moment to ponder that information before Ciri had proposed the idea of a ‘glory hole’. She said she’d learned about it from an earthrealmer a few years before and said she wanted to know if Y/n could identify the unit yet from just their cocks. Of course Y/n had accepted the challenge and so Ciri had spread the word amongst the contingent while Y/n had set up a booth of sorts in her chambers for herself. The men would come in, one at a time, and Y/n gave them a blowjob while Ciri sat outside keeping tabs of who entered. Y/n had her own parchment where she could place her guesses.

She was pretty sure, based on how fast they finished, exactly who she’d just made cum. She stretched her jaw, counting her tally. Had she really gone through everyone? Her throat was pleasantly sore, her jaw tight and aching and she figured she must have been a sight. It had been a few hours, she figured, as she gulped down some water to ease the soreness. She was just about to get up when she heard the door open again. Confused, she nearly asked who was there when a familiar cock appeared through the opening; Reiko. The door slammed shut a second later making Y/n jump as her hand wrapped gently around Reiko’s thick member.

“Heard about the special services being provided today as well, Reiko?” A low, growling voice called out and Y/n shivered as another familiar cock appeared through the hole to her left; General Shao. While Reiko often came by with the other men, General Shao never came to her during her scheduled time. He preferred to spend time with her in the privacy of his chambers. This was unprecedented. 

“Of course, General. I wasn’t going to miss out on an opportunity like this.” Reiko laughed. Y/n rolled her eyes fondly before leaning in to wrap her lips around his thick member. She suckled at it gently, tasting the precum already gathered there as her other hand reached up to wrap around the General’s cock, stroking it how she knew enjoyed. 

Y/n couldn’t help the moan that fell from her lips as she began to bob her head along Reiko’s length. She knew she had a bias where the General was concerned, but she loved Reiko’s cock almost as much. Both her commanding officers were much thicker than the rest of the unit and, especially Shao, had a length proportionate to their size. She let her teeth graze softly along Reiko’s shaft, knowing he loved a little bit of pain mixed in. She took him down farther, his cock hitting the back of her throat and she relaxed it to take him fully. She felt a few drops of drool trickle down her chin as she sucked and slurped at his cock, addicted to the weight of it on her tongue.

“Ooh this slut really knows what she’s doing.” Reiko groaned and Y/n clenched her legs, feeling wetness beginning to gather at her entrance. She liked being of service to the others and had been feeling pleasantly aroused most of the afternoon, but Shao and Reiko both knew how to get under her skin. Just their voices alone usually could make her dizzy and wanting and they both knew it. 

She’d accepted that being close to the General came hand in hand with his second in command and over time she’d started to be just as enamored with Reiko as with Shao. It didn’t help that he was gorgeous and always very generous when he fucked her. He liked to watch her come and often spent more time pleasuring her when they fucked than chasing his own pleasure. He was rough too and had no shame, often bending her over Shao’s desk and fucking her in front of the General. 

Y/n pulled off of Reiko and shifted to take Shao into her mouth. She stroked Reiko’s cock, using her spit to ease the slide as she flicked her tongue over Shao's slit. His cockhead was extremely sensitive and she liked to play with it, suckling and laving at it for a few minutes before taking his length into her mouth. She was rewarded with a guttural growl from Shao as she took him to the hilt.

She bobbed her head faster, taking short breaths on each withdrawal. Shao liked it fast and rough, often just fucking her throat and forcing her to take every inch. It was nice to be in control for once, though she felt hi. Thrust forward, a shallow attempt to chase her throat as she pulled back.

"Quite skilled." Shao agreed with a groan. "Almost as good as our little whore, Y/n."

"Y/n couldn't handle both of us like this. She'd be so whiny, unable to touch her slutty little pussy while she sucked us both." Reiko laughed. "She's such a needy little thing."

Y/n pooped off Shao with a groan and heard both men chuckle. She felt her cheeks grow hot, humiliation painting them pink as she jerked them both off simultaneously as they talked about her like it wasn’t her in the booth. They knew her too well because she desperately wanted to touch herself. All she could do was squirm and whimper as she took Reiko back down her throat.

She alternated between the two, sucking off one while jacking the other off, then swapping. They both had incredible endurance and it seemed as if they were planning to really make her work for it. They kept up the casual conversation, only the occasional groan to indicate there was more happening than just their normal strategizing. Every so often they would drop in phrases to compliment her work, or compare her to ‘their little slut’. Y/n was starting to think she would come untouched before either of them, her cunt a soaking mess as she moaned around Shao’s cock.

“God, this whore is desperate for a taste of my cum.” Shao grunted, thrusting shallowly into Y/n’s mouth. “Think I should give it to her?” “She’s earned it, though we should save some for Y/n later. She’ll be so sad if we waste it all on some common whore.” Reiko replied with a gasp as he felt Y/n’s slick hand give a rough twist over his cockhead. He glanced at Shao, face twisting into a knowing smirk. They were clearly getting her worked up. “Can’t wait to find her when we’re done here. Going to pin her to the nearest surface and fuck her till she’s fucking dripping with my cum.”

“I’ll join you. Been meaning to get a taste of that sweet pussy of hers. Wonder if she’d let me fuck her there while your in her ass. Bet even a slut like her would struggle to take us both.” Shao snarled. “She’s such a perfect little whore, didn’t even have to tell her that cunt belongs to us; only us. Going to fucking wreck it when she finally lets me. Going to ruin her for anyone else. It’s ours.”

“You’ve seen how she stares at us, haven’t you? She’s been drooling for us to fill her up like she needs.” Reiko moaned as Y/n’s strokes grew faster, more erratic. “She loves it when I stick a few fingers in her cunt while I’m pounding her ass. She squeezes them so desperately I know she wishes she could have a cock instead. Always so fucking wet and eager. Surprised she hasn’t begged us for it by now.” 

Y/n felt her whole body spasm as her orgasm crashed over her. Her legs shook, hands moving frantic, grip tight as she let out a guttural moan. She felt Reiko’s cock jerk and had just enough thought to open her mouth as rope after rope of hot cum shot from his slit to land on her face and chest. She swallowed what she could catch, releasing his cock to double her efforts on Shao. She wrapped her lips around his cockhead just as he tipped over into release. His cum filled her mouth to the brim, spilling out the sides and covering her breasts as she pulled back to swallow his seed as well.

She whined when his cock too disappeared, head swimming with the aftershocks of cumming from just their voices alone. It didn’t take much from Reiko and Shao to tear open the door to the makeshift booth. Shao bent down, picking her up off the floor and into his arms to cradle her. Both men had matching smirks as they took in her cum drunk expression, though there was affection reflected in their eyes as Y/n let out a contented hum. Shao brought her to the bed, laid down beside her to slowly stroke her sides as Reiko found a warm, wet rag to wipe the cum from her flushed chest. 

“Look at our sweet little slut, Shao, she’s fucking soaked down here.” Reiko smirked as he wiped up a bit of cum that landed on her thigh. He swept a finger through her crease and Y/n whined, cheeks flushed and still oversensitive from her orgasm. “Did you actually manage to cum untouched, Y/n. Gods your so fucking perfect aren’t you?” Reiko spread her legs to look, diving into the mess between her lower lips, his tongue a hot brand against her fevered skin. He dragged it up across her clit, sucking it lightly and listening to her moan as Shao helped hold her hips down. 

“Ours.” Shao agreed, leaning in to suck one of her nipples into his mouth. She squirmed in his grasp as both men pleasured her. “Do you want that, Y/n? I’ve seen how you look at me; Reiko too. I don’t mind sharing you with the men, but I meant what I said. This here is ours.” His fingers snaked down, plunging into her dripping pussy as Reiko pulled away with a smirk. Y/n could see Reiko stroking his cock, staring at where her tight cunt swallowed the General’s fingers. “You’ll belong to us. Our personal whore.”

“Our lover.” Reiko corrected. “She’s already our whore, but we want more, precious.” Reiko leaned in, captured her lips in a teasing kiss. When he pulled back his lips were replaced with Shao’s, who kissed her deeper, possessively. Y/n nodded.

“Please. Want you both. Wanted you for so long.” Y/n cried. “Hope you're ready, precious.” Reiko lined up his cock with her entrance, pushing in as Shao’s fingers withdrew. “We’re going to take turns fucking you, gonna fuck you together, until you’re too shaky to stand.”

“Going to spoil you fucking rotten.” Shao growled, wrapping a hand around the leg nearest him and lifting it to allow Reiko better access. “Let’s get started then shall we?”

[modulusconsulting]

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[its-time-to-write]

sooo excited requests are open again! Jamie gets a day off from training and you spend the whole day together cuddling and snogging and watching films

Done😎 Gonna hit you all with some angst pretty soon, so enjoy this angst-free fic while you can! Thanks for the request!

(p.s. this gif makes me giggle. idk why)

tell me where to put my love

There is absolutely nothing like a Sunday morning, because it means that Jamie has absolutely no training. Saturdays are subject to extra time with Roy, so you and Jamie only get one day a week with absolutely no football. Well, not absolutely no football. Sometimes you let him cajole you into going to the Richmond Green and kicking around one of the ten billion footballs he has in the house. 

He says you’ve gotten better since you’ve started, you say that you could take on all of Richmond and win.

He says you’re very funny.

You say so too.

Sundays are great because you get to sleep in, but you probably don’t. You’re both so used to being awake early so despite being up late, you’re both unable to sleep past 7:30, maybe 8 if you’re really tired.

You don’t get out of bed, though.

The first one to wake will lie as still as possible, looking at the rise and fall of the other’s chest. Usually it’s Jamie watching you. You’re a light sleeper, so you begin to stir at the slightest change in atmosphere. He’ll stroke your cheek and you’ll smile and stretch, refusing to open your eyes.

His hands will start to slide down to your arms and to your waist, then dip below your pajama bottoms. You’ll open your eyes at that, because he’ll soon shift so that his head is at your waist, and lift his baby blue eyes to yours in a question. 

This Sunday is no different, and you both end up staying in bed until 10. It’s not until you’re lying tangled in the sheets, sweaty and gasping for breath, that a stomach growls (yours, his, what’s the difference) and you each throw on as little clothes as possible and head to the kitchen. Jamie pulls things out for his morning smoothie and you’re toasting frozen waffles. Neither of you are saying much, except for a “hey!” from Jamie when you steal some of his strawberries. 

You take your respective breakfasts to the couch and settle under a blanket. It gets cold when you’re only wearing pants. 

“What are we gonna watch?” you ask. 

Jamie just grins and flips through your streaming services.

“No, babe,” you groan, “not again. Please, I beg of you.”

Jamie pretends he can’t hear you and lands on Keeping Up with the Kardashians. 

“Jamie,” you say as he chooses an episode, “why are you so obsessed with reality tv? It’s so unrealistic.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t fucking love it,” he replies, lightly knocking his head against yours. You roll your eyes and suppress a smile. You can’t argue with that. 

You stay on the couch for three hours until Jamie starts to get bored and starts kissing a line up your neck. You giggle and shift away.

“Babe,” he says between kisses, “you hungry?”

“That is not where I thought this was going,” you laugh. 

Jamie shrugs, lips still against your throat. “Trying to make up for making you watch fucking American reality television. And I want takeout.”

At that, you turn and capture his lips in yours. He’s not supposed to have takeout right now, not part of his eating plan. He’s trying to butter you up so you won’t talk him out of it. Lucky for him, he’s making a very convincing argument. 

An hour later, you’re in the backyard on the patio eating Chinese food. You’re both in more clothes and soaking up the rare bit of sun. Jamie has also produced chips, and you’re not sure why they go so well with Chinese, but they do. 

You’re finishing up the last box and chatting about Jamie’s upcoming match when there’s a knock on the door. You both freeze. You’re not expecting anyone, and you exchange an assessing look to see who is most presentable to answer the door. 

It turns out to be Jamie, so he pads inside and opens it to find Dani. 

“Eyy, muchacho! Nice to have a day off, no? I was feeling a little bit lonely, so I decided to drop by to see if you would like to play some FIFA. And I did not come empty handed!” Dani holds up a bag of Mexican food. 

“Can’t,” Jamie says. “Girlfriend’s here.”

Dani’s face droops a little bit and, as if on cue, you appear behind Jamie, all wrapped up in a blanket. 

“Hi Dani!” you say. “Heard your voice from the backyard. What’re you doing here?”

He shrugs. “Just lonely, I guess.“ 

He looks so hilariously forlorn that you laugh and Jamie rolls his eyes. 

“Do you want to come in?” you ask. “Ooh, is that Mexican?”

Fifteen minutes later, Dani is explaining hair masks to a fascinated Jamie, as you sip your drinks and eat the food Dani brought. Neither you nor Jamie care to tell him you had just eaten.

He stays for two hours, crushing Jamie at FIFA. After the door shuts behind him, Jamie looks at you and says, “shower?”

You and Jamie stay in for way too long, only coming out when your hands are far too pruny. The bathroom is all steamy, and Jamie’s towel is wrapped low around his hips. You end up back on the bed, laying on top of the sheets in your towels. His arm is around you, thumb rubbing up and down your arm. Your head is tucked in the crook of his neck, and you’re breathing in his clean scent slowly. He’s talking in a low voice, not about anything really, just chattering about football, his mum, and the future. You’re trying to stay awake, you really are, and there’s no reason you should be tired and yet your eyes are growing heavy. It’s not your fault that his voice is so calm and so soothing, and before you know it you’re asleep. 

You don’t see this part, but Jamie notices the change in your breathing and starts whispering about other things. How much he loves you, and why he loves you. His real hopes for the future, the ones he’s not sure you’re ready to hear, but thinks one day you will be. He’ll let you sleep as long as possible. These times are rare, and he is going to savor every moment. 

[infipretty]

𝑭𝒕. 𝑻𝒂𝒆𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒆 <3

Hello everyone! Welcome to my First PAC, I hope y'all enjoy this! Let me know which pile did y'all pick 🍻

Choosing a Pile :

Take Deep breaths and relax for a while, Choose the pile to which you feel the most guided/connected to, you may feel connected to one pile or more through a certain number or a picture. If any pile revokes a memory in you, it's definitely the pile for you! It's Alright to feel connected to more than one pile, maybe you have more messages than one! Just trust your intuition! ♡

Disclaimer :

This reading is a general one, So everything might not be extremely accurate for everyone. Everything will resonate differently for everyone. Take what resonates with you and leave what doesn't. At the end of the day, you're accountable for your own actions. You create your own reality and fate <3 SO enjoyyy y'all🍺.

✧ 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟏 ✧

Very sweet person but won't show. Literally the type to know your Starbucks order by heart. A Wishful dreamer. Very balanced. A whole Different person when in love and on a personal level. Hardworking. A provider. Positive influence on people. Quick adapter. Very sensual. Go with the flow type. Rich and stable. Go getter. Wants to be in control at times. A young soul with a serious persona on the outside. Good with words and a diplomat. Protects you like anything. Might be old school. May like photography and capturing memories. Might have a bit of an ego. You might think of them as a dork at first. Has to be told that they are in the wrong. My way or highway type at times. Possessive and protective. Analytical. Spontaneous being!

Their love language : This person is big on gifts and Acts of service. Wish for something in front of them and they will literally hand it to you the next day. They love to give meaningful gifts, gifts that may signify an inside joke or some part of your relationship. They just want to see you happy and they will do whatever they can for your happiness!

✧ 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟐 ✧

Effortlessly Charming. Could be the 'IT person' amongst people. Probably a movie and tv series lover. Might know how to cook really well. Fair and truthful as a person. Easy on life. Tall and broad. Adventurous, calm and composed. Impulsive at times . Quite pleasing to the eyes . Definitely a creative and an artistic type of a person. Believes in equality for all. Respectful. Might be popular amongst peers, naturally alluring and attractive. The type to give you hand written letters. Might come across as cocky but isn't. Can get through anything in life. Passionate and energetic. Intuitive. In touch with their emotions. Extrovert. May like partying. May have a heavenly smile. Soft. Big on Honesty and quite straightforward!

Their love language : words of affirmation and quality time! They are the type to take you shopping and shop with you. They may plan random dates and take you to late night drives. The type to cook for you on special days and take up equal responsibilities as you. They will never let you talk badly about yourself and will always hype you up but will let you know when you're wrong about something!

✧ 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟑 ✧

Wise and broad minded. Might have a deep voice. Extremely knowledgeable about random stuff. May like to experiment with their looks. Quite Rich and self made. Dominant. Hot asf. Coffee person. Probably likes hanging out at cafes and bakeries. Loves to debate. Deep down quite emotional and also, emotionally intelligent. Would be obsessed with you. The jealous type but won't admit or show it. Cheesy and romantic. Very intuitive. Extremely chivalrous and kinda 'ladies person'. Might come across as a flirt. Lowkey a feminine person (even if they identify as a man). Will spoil you endlessly. Gracefully diplomatic. Jack of all trades. Balanced and steady. Would want to be your best friend first and then anything else!

Their love language: Physical touch and gifts. Seriously the type to steal glances. Would give you random gifts, sometimes for no reason. Would love to cuddle you a lot and just hold you in general. The type to never let go of your hand first when y'all are holding hands. Back hugs are their thing. Would give you Forehead kisses to calm you down!

✧ 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟒 ✧

Overachiever and introvert. Observes a lot. Can read people like a book. Self aware and generous. Lowkey a loner but likes it that way. Someone who has been through a lot mentally and have struggled their way to the top. Extremely humble and well educated. Well planned and ambitious. Loyal and dependable. Won't leave your side even if you push them away. A Night/Nocturnal person. Introspective and the type to talk to you about life on a rooftop. Knows all your habits and your icks. Would encourage you to go above and beyond. Lowkey may like sports. The type who falls too hard. May not like to gossip about people. Well established. Shy at first. Will always look out for you first and then anyone else!

Their love language: Acts of service and quality time! They will help you with everything and anything that they can. This person will always have your back. You call them at 2 AM for something and the next thing you know is that they're on your doorsteps. Will always uplift you and guide you towards betterment. The type to make inside jokes with you. Eye contacts is a THING here. Will put you first in every situation!

©infipretty

[bbnibini]

I wonder if it's a design choice or the devs themselves can't make up their mind, but why did Solomon's eye colour "change" in NB? The chibi sprites in the OG show his eyes are shades of grey to brown/almost gold-bronze.

The NB chibi sprite shows his eyes to be dark blue and brownish-gold.

Don't even get me started with the cards and merch that can't make up his effing eye colour

To my Solobesties (I'm calling Solomon stans this now. I think we formed a strange kinship after lesson 17 even if we never interact lmao), especially artist solobesties, hats off to you and your service to the community.

My personal HC is kinda a spoiler for uhhhh something I'm writing, but here it is:

"It's just…your eyes are like you: I can't figure them out." "MC, I-" "No! No! Solomon, I'm sorry! No…it's not like that, I promise! Look at me, won't you? Please look at me." So he did. His eyes trembled as he met with yours. How could he have hidden this part of himself for this long? How could you not notice? How could you forget? How could Father be so cruel to him and you for simply existing? You traced the corner of his lips with your thumb as you held him by the cheek. He was leaning onto your right hand, unable to maintain his gaze. He was surprisingly bashful. Adorably shy without his facades. But he looked like he would crumble even with a gentle word so you did not say anything. He looked at you expectantly, then looked away as your gaze burned onto him for too long and muttered, "You can't figure me out?"in almost a whisper, after a long-drawn out silence, weighing in his words, watching your expressions and body language. Afraid, so deathly afraid. You smiled. "It's like I'm looking at a mirror. Sometimes it's silver, sometimes it's midnight. When you look at the world around you and then look back at me, I feel like you've captured the sky and the oceans in your eyes. It's beautiful." His face was red all over, even to the tips of his ears. It was such a shame. You haven't even said everything you wanted to say to him yet. That he was the moon and the stars to your daytime; gold and silver gazes, looking after you from afar in the many branches of realities he couldn't be as honest with you as he was now. Ah. What will you do without him now? How can you give this up after remembering everything? You knew it was selfish, but you love him. Both of him. Every part of him just as much as he loved you and every part of you that existed. But now, you had to say goodbye. Again. How truly unfair.

[creepy-friday]

Hi!!! I saw your fem! Proxy post and I was wondering if you could write a NSFW scenario/oneshot with a fem! Proxy with Hoodie? It just really got me thinking and the way you write the characters really intrigues me!

If not it's completely ok!!! I don't know if your requests are open or if you write NSFW but if you don't then feel free to ignore this!

The only specific thing I ask is if Y/N was a bit in the sweeter and innocent side when it comes to her personality, since i think the contrast between her human and naive natures contrasts with Hoodie's perveted one is really interesting, that's the only thing really.

I love your writing and hcs and remember that you don't have to write this if you don't want to!!

💗💗💗

Hii!! Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it! 💞 💞💞

NSFW|Hoodie x Female Proxy|

Warnings: heavy NSFW,hair pulling,orgasm denial,violence,blood and abuse mentions

Two years.It took you two years of working under a faceless creature to finally give in the loneliness almost every creep of the mansion drowned into

It was noticed by Brian who waited patiently for you to say the word that would bring the nights he spent jerking himself off to you to reality

On the occasions you were free to wander around, Brian followed you a couple of times. At first it was just his job,to make sure you aren't plotting to escape and to report to Slenderman if you would be on the run

To be honest he wouldn't have rat you out even if you thought you could escape the forest,but he would've blackmail you into various "services" to keep quiet. He isn't the most innocent after years of having blood on his hands

Missions with you along with Masky and Hoodie were going two ways. It was either Maksy smashing someone's brain across the room while you're distracted or having you knock out someone while the white masked man bitches about it.

It was funny to him,really,altough the hood's expression captures sadness he's finding himself smirking to how much you try to leave a scene with the least amount of blood possible

It was a dirty thought,but he was getting hard of the amount of fear or disgust your face portrayed whenever his teammate did something grotesque

He noticed how you reacted to the cruel things he did as well

Sometimes he wonderes if you would have the same expression if he would put a pistol to your head while pounding into you,or if the sweet girl he thinks you are would enjoy it

Of course he never tried to make a move on you or to harass you like Masky did.He was simply waiting for an opportunity to fuck you,one like today

There were feelings he wasn't aware of,but he never gave them much thought because a relationship between the two of you would be candalous

The dynamic among the proxies would be destroyed,but he wouldn't mind to be honest,the word "shame" is out of his vocabulary after all the time spent here

Today was one of the days you had a breakdown and needed to be out for a while,deep in the forest to the usual spot

"You keep on coming here." he approached you with slow steps,leaning on a tree while pulling his hood upwards.There was clear tension between the two of you from the mission last night

"Oh,yeah.. " you simply responded while rubbing your hands together.

"It was a nice thing." he mentioned from last night,when you soothed Toby who was on the verge of exploding into another violent outburst to Masky's constant bullying towards him.

You gave him a nod while playing with the crushed leaves on the ground

"I know how it was at first,in these woods." Brian stated while taking a few more steps towards you."You don't have to hide there.Confess to me." he demanded."Why you do it?"

You looked at him with a puzzled expression,deep bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep due to the stress from all the worked days

"I don't know." and you told him the truth,but to be honest,at this point you were exhausted.You kept on thinking about your life..before you ended up here.

The loneliness combined with the way of how hot his body felt right next to you made you make the first move to finally give Brian the start he longed for.

You looked up to him and he leaned in.You kissed him and he followed by with a deeper passionate approach while his hands traveled from your waist to your ass and finally to your pants

As you tried to get some air as well as some distance you gently pushed him by the chest. "We shouldn't do this."

"Why not?"

"I...I don't.." it felt guilty to be out with your teammate like this.It felt like a betrayal of some sort for some reason.

"You don't what?" he smirked while closing the distance yet again "you're a virgin? That's alright,I won't bite." Brian whispered while giving wet kisses to the crook of your neck "or maybe you aren't into this kind of stuff?"

His right hand traveled to your clothed sex after giving your ass a rough squeeze.He continued to rub your cunt while his left hand went up your shirt,pulling it upwards with your bra

The way your legs opened up,giving room for his hand to toy with your covered heat and the way his tongue circled your nipple made you moan in response

After giving your puffy nipples a final squeeze he grabbed you by the back of your neck and throwed you face down on the log he was previously sitting on making you yelp in surprise

Hoodie moved his hand from your neck to your hair,grabbing a fistful of it while undoing his pants and pushing your legs apart for more room

"You're not saying anything,huh?Use your voice for a bit',I might do it more often" he whispered as he lowered his body onto you

"I..I don't know what to-" you were interrupted by the cold wind biting at your skin as he pulled your pants to your ankles in a rush

"That's okay.I'll fuck the words out of you." he whispered as he plunged two fingers into your wet hole

He kept on hurrying the pace as you were driven closer and closer to the edge then suddenly went slower

"Please don't stop" you begged for him,your mind long gone into a hazy cloud as he gently lifted your head by the hair

He entered in without much effort as you arched your back followed by his grunts

He continued to slowly trace circles on your clit,patiently waiting for you to ask for more

A few squirms and your body was rocking against his hand,the nonverbal response made the intention clear and he followed suit

The sound of flesh on flesh combined with the muffled moans were enough to make your face red,further hurting your cheek in the rough surface of the log he previously sat on

"Are you disgusted with yourself?" he smirked while continuing to pound into you "of being with someone like me?" getting closer to your face he jerked your head upwards and licked your cheek "maybe you're getting off of that"

Making the pace slower again he hissed "respond."

"N-No!I'm not!"

"Atta girl"

The whole situation driven you drunk with lust as you tightened around him

After a minute of heavy breathing you both regained yourselves from the high.As Brian caressed your hair a wet pop was heard before as he stood up straight to adjust his clothes back on. "You alright?"

"Y-yeah.." you breathed out while hurrying to pull your pants back on,still shaken from the whole experience.

"Want some help with that?" you immediately responded with a quiet "no"  while ignoring any sort of eye contact with him.

"Aight'" Brian smiled to himself as he sat down on the same log,still watching you take deep breaths in and out while leaning on the tree next to him.

The faint sound of a click was heard as he lightened up a cigarette. "Take a break." Brian whispered with a different tone now,the teasing and mischievous one being long gone at this point. "You'll need it for tomorrow."

You finally looked in his direction, eyes fixated on yours as a soft smile appeared on his face

"Maybe you'll get lonely again.I'll be there"

[jinitak]

Why I think much of Only Friends discourse here is flawed

TL;DR Western audiences expects Only Friends to be more progressive than it can be considering its situation. Only Friends is already a gamble by GMMTV as it is one of the first prime time series focusing on queer sex life to be aired on TV. As Thai audiences and censors are still quite conservative, GMMTV probably added some conservative messaging on sex and relationships to appease those people and for the series to be able to be aired during prime time. Much of the discourse didn't factor in these aspects.

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Note: I think I did a shitty job building up to the conclusion, I did not proofread this. I think the TL;DR captures the gist of my argument already.

I have noticed that much of the negative reaction surrounding Only Friends finale has been coming from Western audiences, this might just be me being in an echo chamber where people don't discuss BL series or it shows a divide in audience

I think the ending is catered to the Thai audience rather than Western audience which creates a crash of worldview. Thai dramas has always been filled with moralistic messages and almost always ends in a happy ending, this is already the case in plays as early as the late 1700s.

Even into the TV era, Thai audiences are also accustomed to the moralistic storytelling that ends in a happy ending, most Lakhons basically boils down to this. Branded ships also began in this era (I remember the Channel 3 heterosexual ships getting much popularity, although many of the couples actually married later on so IDK). Although as time progressed, audiences are more accepting of less moralistic storytelling, but still a general sense of good triumphing over evil is still present.

Coming into the BL boom, despite BL being a new genre at the time, Thai audiences still expected the same kind of things they expect from heterosexual lakhons and most Thai BLs still follow that. With the popularity of BL ever rising and fan service being an expected part of promotion, happy endings are kind of mandatory for BLs.

I think Only Friends ended the way it did because GMMTV understood Thai audiences. Much of the Thai audience watches a series for their favourite actors and only some watch for the story (as you can see from the amount of boring university BLs). Deviating too much from the standard pattern would only alienate viewers away.

Despite the picture the tourism board may be trying to presenting, Thailand is still a conservative society, many people still cannot separate sex and relationships. Open relationships and polyamory relationships are still being frowned upon.

Combined with conservative censors which rate BLs for a higher age level than heterosexual dramas with straight up domestic violence, without moralistic messaging, the show might get an 18+ rating and has to be aired after 22.00 (like Friend Zone) or even worse, not being able to be aired at all.

GMMTV probably understand this very well, pushing Boston's separation of sex and relationships as normal might as well be suicide. Much of the audience does not appreciate that view and the censor probably would not like that very much.

I think in their minds, pushing a show so involved with queer sex life into prime time is already enough of a gamble for them, risking that spot being taken away or alienating their (somewhat) conservative audience too is not a chance they's like to risk.

I think the production still should've pushed more for Boston to be accepted but in the end that was what we got. The negative reaction is justified.

I think the issue in the discourse right now is that Western audiences expect a liberal viewpoint being presented in this series, but in reality, Thai audiences are still quite conservative and for a boundary pushing show like Only Friends (Gay OK Bangkok amongst other works are not prime time shows and maybe not even shown on TV at all, that's why I said Only Friends is boundary pushing) has to make compromises to appease those audiences which ended with Boston ending up the way he did.

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Afterword: I think my analysis mainly focuses on cultural viewpoints rather than the content of the series, whilst Western audiences tend to do the opposite. This probably stems from my background in advocacy, which focus on cultural aspects when it comes to analysis.

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Feel free to respond or criticise, I want to hear differing viewpoints from mine as well. I agree with much of the analysis about the series here but feel that they are too overly critical because their analysis lack the cultural background that explains the thought process behind the decisions the production team made.