#saturday is going to destroy me

[twinksintrees]

i’m so tired all i wanna do is cry

[tenrose]

Since I finally read at a higher rate with regularity, I'm really pissed that the thing getting between me and my books is my job but also I need that job to buy books, and you know food and pay bills but whatever

[oldestenemy]

can someone please tell me why khrysalis is so unbearably fucking long?

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[twilightarcade]

1 thing that's fucked up is when you actually make plans 4 yourself and everyone gets all offended . Sorry I wanted to do something by myself lol

[batsplat]

Sepang 2004: Sete Gibernau is interrogated about his involvement in Valentino Rossi's back-of-the-grid penalty for the race in Qatar. He is also asked about his relationship with Rossi going forwards. (Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6)

"We never protested from our side. [...] I was the first one who said I wanted to clean my spot and not only my spot, I think it would have been a good idea to clean everyone's spot because myself being in the safety commission, I think it would have been safer. Not any advantage as far as results, but it would have been safer for everyone to clean the spot. So basically that's what I wanted to do. But I was blocked to do that. They didn't let me do that. And after that, if your question is, if I went - or anyone of myself or whoever to complain of this situation, it wasn't me. Because like I say, it would be pretty [contradictory] to try and clean and then say that I don't want to clean or that someone has done that."

"And your team was not behind it at all, even though I'm sure you're aware that one of your mechanics was called to give evidence at the protest." "Again, I can talk for myself and from what I wanted to do or what I didn't want to do so I think if you go back there and see who made the protest, you will see who actually did it." "It was HRC." "Am I a HRC factory rider?"

[dreamyberry]

/ 30.1.24

[jadenvargen]

free online james baldwin stories, essays, videos, and other resources

**edit

James baldwin online archive with his articles and photo archives.

---NOVELS---

Giovanni's room"When David meets the sensual Giovanni in a bohemian bar, he is swept into a passionate love affair. But his girlfriend's return to Paris destroys everything. Unable to admit to the truth, David pretends the liaison never happened - while Giovanni's life descends into tragedy. This book introduces love's fascinating possibilities and extremities."

Go Tell It On The Mountain"(...)Baldwin's first major work, a semi-autobiographical novel that has established itself as an American classic. With lyrical precision, psychological directness, resonating symbolic power, and a rage that is at once unrelenting and compassionate, Baldwin chronicles a fourteen-year-old boy's discovery of the terms of his identity as the stepson of the minister of a storefront Pentecostal church in Harlem one Saturday in March of 1935. Baldwin's rendering of his protagonist's spiritual, sexual, and moral struggle of self-invention opened new possibilities in the American language and in the way Americans understand themselves."

+bonus: film adaptation on youtube. (if you’re a giancarlo esposito fan, you’ll be delighted to see him in an early preacher role)

Another Country and Going to Meet the Man Another country: "James Baldwin's masterly story of desire, hatred and violence opens with the unforgettable character of Rufus Scott, a scavenging Harlem jazz musician adrift in New York. Self-destructive, bad and brilliant, he draws us into a Bohemian underworld pulsing with heat, music and sex, where desperate and dangerous characters betray, love and test each other to the limit." Going to meet the Man: " collection of eight short stories by American writer James Baldwin. The book, dedicated "for Beauford Delaney", covers many topics related to anti-Black racism in American society, as well as African-American–Jewish relations, childhood, the creative process, criminal justice, drug addiction, family relationships, jazz, lynching, sexuality, and white supremacy."

Just Above My Head"Here, in a monumental saga of love and rage, Baldwin goes back to Harlem, to the church of his groundbreaking novel Go Tell It on the Mountain, to the homosexual passion of Giovanni's Room, and to the political fire that enflames his nonfiction work. Here, too, the story of gospel singer Arthur Hall and his family becomes both a journey into another country of the soul and senses--and a living contemporary history of black struggle in this land."

If Beale Street Could Talk"Told through the eyes of Tish, a nineteen-year-old girl, in love with Fonny, a young sculptor who is the father of her child, Baldwin's story mixes the sweet and the sad. Tish and Fonny have pledged to get married, but Fonny is falsely accused of a terrible crime and imprisoned. Their families set out to clear his name, and as they face an uncertain future, the young lovers experience a kaleidoscope of emotions-affection, despair, and hope. In a love story that evokes the blues, where passion and sadness are inevitably intertwined, Baldwin has created two characters so alive and profoundly realized that they are unforgettably ingrained in the American psyche."

also has a film adaptation by moonlight's barry jenkins

Tell Me How Long the Train's been gone At the height of his theatrical career, the actor Leo Proudhammer is nearly felled by a heart attack. As he hovers between life and death, Baldwin shows the choices that have made him enviably famous and terrifyingly vulnerable. For between Leo's childhood on the streets of Harlem and his arrival into the intoxicating world of the theater lies a wilderness of desire and loss, shame and rage. An adored older brother vanishes into prison. There are love affairs with a white woman and a younger black man, each of whom will make irresistible claims on Leo's loyalty. 

---ESSAYS---

Baldwin essay collection. Including most famously: notes of a native son, nobody knows my name, the fire next time, no name in the street, the devil finds work- baldwin on film

--DOCUMENTARIES--

Take this hammer, a tour of san Francisco.

Meeting the man

--DEBATES:--

Debate with Malcolm x, 1963 ( on integration, the nation of islam, and other topics. )

Debate with William Buckley, 1965. ( historic debate in america. )

Heavily moderated debate with Malcolm x, Charles Eric Lincoln, and Samuel Schyle 1961. (Primarily Malcolm X's debate on behalf of the nation of islam, with Baldwin giving occassional inputs.)

----

apart from themes obvious in the book's descriptions, a general heads up for themes of incest and sexual assault throughout his works.

[stargazingpsychotic]

Not a fan of how when I'm really struggling my parents get madder at me because I make little mistakes. So I forget something (that maybe I wasn't aware of) and then they get mad at me and start saying all this shitty stuff which makes me feel worse and then keep making mistakes because I'm scared of doing it again, but I focus so much on the mistake I forget everything else.

And they're aware I'm not doing well, that's obvious, they've pointed out things that are signs of these times, which they are aware of. So have they forgotten or just never cared. I mean they didn't care before so why would they now.

I hate more that I am convinced they want me dead. The rest of the world just wants to catch me when I leave the body and start again like resetting everything, but my parents, they want me gone forever, even I don't want that, I just want to go home regardless of what I have to do to get there.

I'm trying so hard to hold out this week, a promise to my sister for something we doing Saturday, but after that I can't. The more fed up they get and the more I feel under attack the less I can hold on. I'd be surprised nothing happens this week honestly.

Had an appointment earlier which, telling them everything and my concerns, is leaving me with them sending a letter in a few weeks. Well at least I wasn't outright dismissed but this isn't exactly helpful, not that I know what could be helpful in this situation.

And I'm so tired. I know I'm doing some of this on purpose, but it's like everything is heavy and the pain doesn't help. I can't say I'm surprised about the pain being worse than normal, and I at least have some stuff for the pain, but if I could just feel at ease once rather than all this fear and pain and confusion.

What I'm concerned about is none of this matters, that I'll do something anyway because I'm so fed up of my parents. I don't care how they react, except I also do because them knowing anything has also been risky.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Private equity rips off its investors, too

I'm coming to DEFCON! TOMORROW (Aug 9), I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On SATURDAY (Aug 10), I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

It's amazing how many of the scams that have devastated our economy and everyday people owe their success to the fact that we assume that rich people know what they're doing, so if they're doing something, it must be real.

Think of how many people lost everything by gambling on junk bonds, exotic mortgage derivatives, cryptocurrency and web3, because they saw that the largest financial institutions in the world were going all-in on these weird, incomprehensible bets.

Then there are the people who are convinced that online advertising is built around a mind-control ray, because tech companies claim that's what they have ("I am an evil dopamine-loop-hacking wizard and I can sell anything to anyone!"), and because huge, sober blue-chip companies hand billions to these soi dissant svengalis. Sure, online ads are a swamp of clickfraud and garbage, but would these super smart captains of industry spend so much on online advertising if it didn't work super-well?

http://pluralistic.net/HowToDestroySurveillanceCapitalism

From our worms'-eye-view here on the ground, it's easy to assume that rich people and the people who sell them stuff are all on the same side. "If you're not paying for the product, you're the product," right? If Facebook is tormenting you with surveillance advertising, it must be doing so on behalf of the surveillance advertisers, for whom Mark Zuckerberg has bottomless reservoirs of honest, forthright impulses.

The reality is simultaneously weirder, and obvious in hindsight. The reason Zuck is tormenting you is that he's a remorseless sociopath who doesn't care who he hurts. He rips off everyone he can rip off, and that includes advertisers, who have seen steady price-hikes and lower-fidelity targeting, even as ad-fraud has skyrocketed while Facebook draws down its anti-fraud spending:

https://www.404media.co/where-facebooks-ai-slop-comes-from/

This is not to say that Facebook advertisers have your best interests at heart, that they aren't engaged in active deception in order to better themselves at your expense. Rather, it's to say that there's no honor among thieves, and Zuck is an equal-opportunity predator. Moreover, both Zuck and his advertisers are credulous dolts, so the mere fact that they are pouring money into something (advertisers: FB ads; Zuck: metaverse) it doesn't follow that these are real or important or the coming thing.

For me, the Ur-example of "rich people are dumb, even when it comes to money" is the private equity sector. I've written a lot about PE, and how destructive it is to the real economy, from Toys R Us to pet grooming:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/05/rugged-individuals/#misleading-by-analogy

How they killed Red Lobster:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/23/spineless/#invertebrates

And how they actually created the death panels that Sarah Palin warned us about (it's OK, though: these death panels are run by the efficient private sector, not government bureaucrats):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS

The devastating effect of private equity on the real economy is increasingly well understood, and a curious side-effect of this is that people assume that if PE is destroying their lives, they must be doing so on behalf of their investors, who are making bank.

But – like Zuck – PE bosses are just as happy to steal from their investors as they are to to steal from the workers and customers of the businesses they acquire on those investors' behalf. They swaddle this theft in performative complexity and specialized jargon, but when you strip all that away, you find more fraud.

All the misery that PE inflicts on workers, communities and customers are just a convincer in a Big Store con, a bid to make the scam seem credible. For a certain kind of investor, any economic activity that destroys communities and workers' livelihoods must be a good bet. This is the dynamic at work in the pitch of AI image-generator companies, who spend tens of billions on technology that there is no substantial market for:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/25/accountability-sinks/#work-harder-not-smarter

AI image generators represent a high-profile, extremely visible example of "a job that AI can do." Nevermind that AI illustration went from a novelty to a tired cliche in less than a year. Even if you think that AI illustrations are a perfect substitute for commercial illustrations, that still won't come anywhere near making AI companies a profit. Add up the entire wage bill for every commercial illustrator in the world, hand it to Open AI, and you're not even gonna cover the kombucha budget for Open AI's staff kitchens.

Hell, all the wages of every commercial illustrator that ever lived won't pay back even a fraction of the money the AI companies spent on image generators. The pauperization of an entire class of creative workers is just a canned demo, a way to fool investors into thinking that there is a whole universe of similarly situated workers whose wages can be diverted to AI companies. This is the logic of small-time spammers, scaled up to the scale of the entire S&P 500. Smalltime spammers looked at AI and thought, "OK, I can generate as much botshit as I want on demand for free. Science fiction magazines pay $0.10/word. So if I generate a billion words, I'll get $100 million." But that's not how any of that works: sf magazines don't buy botshit, and even if they did, the entire market for short fiction adds up to what Sam Altman spends on a single designer t-shirt. The point of destroying these beloved, useful things isn't to make a lot of money by taking their markets – it's to convince dopey, panicked rich people to give you lots of money you can steal, because they think you can do this to every market and they don't want to miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

Take "divi recaps": after a private equity firm acquires a company (by borrowing money against its assets), it typically declares a "special dividend," emptying out the company's cash reserves and pocketing them. A "divi recap" is when PE then takes out another massive loan against the company's (remaining) assets and pockets that:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/17/divi-recaps/#graebers-ghost

All of this happens under an opaque cloud, thanks to the light-to-nonexistent disclosure rules for PE. A public company has to open its books for the SEC, its investors, and the world. PE is private – and so are its finances. It is absolutely routine for PE bosses to put their spouses, kids, and pals on the payroll and hand them millions for doing little to nothing, all at the expense of their investors:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2022/02/sec-set-to-lower-massive-boom-on-private-equity-industry.html

PE bosses charge huge fees to their investors – not merely the usual 2-and-20 (2% of the funds under management and 20% of any profits) – but also a wide variety of special one-off fees that pile to the sky. They also dip into their investors' funds to issue themselves massive loans that they use to make side-bets, without telling the investors about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/10/monopoly-begets-monopoly/#gary-gensler

PE investors are chickens ripe for the plucking: take "continuation funds," which allow PE bosses to soak the rich people and pension funds who supply them with billions:

https://news.bloomberglaw.com/mergers-and-acquisitions/matt-levines-money-stuff-buyout-funds-buy-from-themselves

Remember 2-and-20? 2% of all the money you manage, every year, and 20% of all the profits. You'd think that these would be somewhat zero sum, right? If you use some of your investors' cash to buy a company, and then sell off that company for a profit, you get the 20%, but now the pot of money you're managing has gone down by the amount you used to buy the company, and so your 2% carry goes down, too.

But what if you sell your portfolio companies to yourself, using your investors' own money? When you do that, you continue to hold the company on your PE firm's books, meaning you continue to get the 2% carry, and you can pocket 20% of the sale price as a "profit":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/20/continuation-fraud/#buyout-groups

This is straight-up fraud, wrapped up in so much jargon that it can successfully masquerade as "financial engineering" ("financial engineering" is really just a euphemism for "fraud"). PE bosses keep coming up with new, exotic ways to steal from their investors. The latest scam is "tax receivable agreements":

https://archive.ph/RczJ9

On its face, this is a tax scam. When a company goes public, early investors generally hold stock in the original partnership or LLC; this company ends up holding a ton of shares in the new, public company. When they sell those non-public shares in the LLC, this creates a (potentially gigantic) tax credit.

A TRA hustle involves tracking down these LLC shareholders and convincing them to sign off on dumping the LLC's shares, which generates a huge tax credit for the public company. The hustler offers to split these credits with the LLC holders.

All of this is especially attractive to PE bosses, who often take a company private, do a bunch of "financial engineering" and then take it public again, leaving the PE firm as the owner of those LLC shares that can be converted to a TRA and a huge windfall – which the PE bosses pocket, because they (not their investors) are holding those credits.

This scam is really doing big numbers. KKR – the monsters who killed Toys R Us – just diverted $650 million in TRA loot, prompting a lawsuit from Steamfitters union pension fund, which had handed these jerks millions of its members' money to gamble with:

https://archive.ph/kqQvI

This highlights another very weird aspect of the PE scam: they are absolutely dependent on pension funds. To add insult to injury, PE funds are notorious union-busters – they use union money to buy companies and destroy their unions:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/05/mr-gotcha/#no-ethical-consumption-under-capitalism

People who try to understand the PE business model often give up, because it seems to make no sense, leading many to assume that they're too unsophisticated to grasp the complex financials here. For example, PE is absolutely dependent on massive loans as a way of looting its businesses, but it also often defaults on those loans. Why do banks and investors keep making huge loans to PE deadbeats? Because – like the PE fund investors – they are credulous dolts.

The reason PE seems like a scam is that it is a scam. It is a fractal scam – every part of it is a scam. You might have heard about the "carried interest" tax loophole that allows PE bosses to avoid billions in taxes on the money they steal from their investors, creditors, workers and customers. Most people assume "carried interest" has something to do with "interest" on a loan. Nope: "carried interest" is a 16th century nautical tax rule designed for mercantalist sea-captains who had an "interest" in the cargo they "carried":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/29/writers-must-be-paid/#carried-interest

But rich people and other "sophisticated investors" (like pension fund investment managers) are no smarter than the rest of us. They are herd animals. When they see other rich people piling into some scheme or asset class, they rush to join them, which makes the asset price go up, which makes them think they're smart (until the inevitable rug-pull). When one plute jumps off the Empire State Building, the rest of them jump, too.

Which is why there's more money flooding into PE than at any time in history, $2.62T in "dry powder," handed over to greedy, thieving PE bosses in a poker game where everyone is the sucker at the table:

https://www.institutionalinvestor.com/article/2di1vzgjcmzovkcea8f0g/portfolio/private-equitys-dry-powder-mountain-reaches-record-height

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/2024/08/08/sucker-at-the-table/#clucks-definance

[yourfatherlucifer]

The Villain (HJ)

villain!hongjoong x good girl!reader

Summary: Being the towns local good girl, you caught the eye of the towns big bad villain, and he NEEDS you. He WANTS you. So he takes what he wants.

Warnings: MDNI, EVIL JOONG IS A BIG RED FLAG, rough, getting caught, choking, pwp, mention of breeding, monster sized cock joong,

WC: 1,291

AU: hero/villain

Genre: SMUT

tags: @nebulousbrainsoup @jay-scenarios @wooyoungqueen @ad0rechuu @staytinyville @pyeonghongrie-main @yunho-mp3

nets: @cromernet @cultofdionysusnet @wonderlandnet @k-labels @kflixnet @pirateeznet

BRAIN GO BRRR, this could've been better but oh well.

Part two

With your flowy skirts and pretty attitude, you are the town's local good girl, everyone loved you. You always helped in any way you could, which meant the towns hero, Hwa, his alias, fell in love with you. However, you also caught the eye of another, Kim Hongjoong, the villain.

He used to be a happy man, but then things started not going his way, he became a brat. He started rebelling, setting things aflame. Destroying things across town, it started out as little things, then it started to progress when Hwa started getting in his way. The two used to be friends but then Hongjoong's ways became evil. Seonghwa always got what he wanted, never Hongjoong. So, they became enemies. Trying to take each other out at any chance they got.

Trying to off each other, even pining after the same girl.

That's where you come in.

Trudging yourself across town, books in hand, a man stepped in front of you, "Oh, Seonghwa! Hi!"

Red flashed across his face, 'Hey, Y/N, I was wondering, would you maybe wanna go on a date with me on Saturday?"

You switched your heavy books to one hand to scratch the back of your neck, "I can't, I have things I have to do, Seonghwa. I'm sorry. Maybe some other time?"

He was constantly trying to woo you, but never could accomplish such an easy task. Were you playing hard to get? No..you were too sweet for that. Right?

Of course, however, despite your sweet and happy persona. You liked bad things, you loved the bad prospects, you liked bad boys. Seonghwa was just far too good for you. You could never let anyone know that though, everyone would dismiss you as the good girl.

They would wonder, 'Who could corrupt such a nice thing?'

Kim Hongjoong. That is who.

With his mean acts, his evil smirk, his pretty eyes. You fell in love with him, but alas, why would he want you? You're too nice for your own good.

You had seen him around in school before he became the villain, he was the outcast, but you liked that about him. You wanted to befriend him. Your parents and friends alike wouldn't let you. They always thought something was wrong with him. They were right. He's evil incarnate, but that made you fall harder. You yearned for him, for his touch for him to tell you all the things he would do to you.

"I see, that's alright, Y/N. I'll see you around." Seonghwa smiled and left you alone in the street.

You rolled your eyes at his goody-two-shoes attitude, yes, you were the same, but you only behaved such a way as to not disappoint your family.

Little did you know though, Hongjoong DID want you, he saw you as the girl he wanted to corrupt, he didn't know your true thoughts of course.

He thought you only want Seonghwa, even more mad that Seonghwa got what he wanted.

But he saw you. Saw you just reject Seonghwa. It nearly brought tears to his eyes. He won. He finally won.

Hongjoong watched you walk into an alley, so he followed you. He was ready to finally confront you.

As you made your way down the cramped buildings, you could hear footsteps behind you, so you quickened your pace.

"Wait! Y/N." A voice you haven't heard in years called out to you.

You turned on your heel to face him, "Hongjoong?"

He didn't smile, just nodded, "Hey. It's good to see you."

You took this time to smile, "You as well."

He stepped up closer to you and you didn't move from your spot, "I'm surprised you aren't running."

"Why would I run?"

"Cuz' I'm the villain of the town?" He tilted his head in confusion.

"Okay, and?"

Hongjoong laughed deeply, it was so attractive to you. He gave you his signature smirk, before placing his hands on your waist, he could see in your eyes that you wanted him.

He wanted you too.

"So, shall we go back to what you could say, is my evil lair?"

You laughed and nodded, "Yes, Joong, I'd love to."

--

The second you stepped into his lavish mansion, he slammed you into the wall, his lips attacking your neck. Nipping and pulling at the skin to create the biggest marks anyone has seen. Hwa will know that you are taken. He will never have you. Hongjoong will make sure of it.

He tapped your thighs for you to jump up.

He carried you through many halls, many staircases, the strength on this man was so unforgivingly hot.

The second he reached a certain room, the cold air affected your nipples. They hardened within a second.

It was in fact, his lair.

Machines lined the walls, a few couches strung about, but in the middle of the room sat a large metal slabbed table.

"Strip." He sets you down, in a demanding voice.

"Leave the skirt on."

He watched as you were about to pull off your flowy skirt.

Once you stood bare in everything but your skirt, he approached you, "Mmm, mine to corrupt."

Grabbing your chin with one hand, he forced you to face him, "I'm going to have you ruined for anyone else, Seonghwa will never want you when I am done with you." He whispered in your ear.

He backed you up into the table, the cold metal hitting your lower back. He quickly spun you around, bending you over the table.

He flipped up the back of the skirt and stared at your wet and warm cunt, "Is all this for me, my good girl?" His finger dipped into the dripping slick.

You moaned into the table, "A-all for you!" You could feel his well-hung cock against the back of your thighs through his slacks.

When he was done playing with your slick, he removed his belt before grabbing your wrists and tying them behind your back, "Good girls don't get to touch when it comes to me."

"I'm going to fuck you into next week, and that is a promise."

He ran his monster-sized cock along your folds, "I don't know if I really should give you what you want." He grinned evilly, alas you couldn't see it.

You were about to beg but before you could, he pushed his large cock inside, "Fucking god, so tight." He growled almost inhumanly.

he rubbed your asscheeks before beginning his descent into pleasure.

The table rock with each thrust his pushed into you, his free hand pushed you down further into the table to prevent any back arches or movements, "Take what I give you. No more, no less."

His harsh thrusts turned slow and soft as he flipped you around. His hand made his way to your throat. Once he made contact, he squeezed your throat hard, only enough to slightly choke you.

His hard thrusts returned, leaving bruises behind. The skin slapping and moans filled the room.

When his lips found yours, there was no love behind them. It was all just need.

"Should I knock you up? Yeah? For the town to see you get bred by the villain? No, I shouldn't. I hate children." He groaned into your ear.

"I will mark you, and feed you my cum, so you'll be dripping."

You wanted to hold him so bad, but could only wrap your legs around him to pull him closer to you.

His thrusts were beginning to turn sloppy, "Gonna fucking fill you."

"Please, just fuck me, Joong!"

The second his warm cum spilled into you, the door to his lair burst open.

Seonghwa stood there,

"What the fuck, Y/N!"

And there was Hongjoong's signature evil smirk, he got what he wanted.

[munson-blurbs]

Summary: An evening in the Wheeler basement reveals what you've been trying to deny about your best friend, and longtime crush, Eddie.

WC: 827

Warnings: hurt/no comfort, unrequited love, mention of sex. You've been warned.

--

Eddie “Speak First, Think Later” Munson struck again. 

A rainy spring Saturday had the Hellfire Club gathered for an impromptu meeting in the Wheeler basement. Eddie whipped out a campaign that he’d been saving, somehow just as detail-rich as the ones he’d meticulously prepared for regular Friday sessions. It had gone on for hours until Dustin, the last player standing, rolled to cast a fireball and was met with utter failure. 

“Damn, and here I thought this was one of my weaker ones.” Eddie popped a sour cream and onion chip in his mouth, crunching down with a triumphant grin. “Looks like I’m unstoppable. Impenetrable. Invincible, even.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Gareth muttered, but there was no missing his own smile as he added, “tell that to Chrissy Cunningham.”

Chrissy Cunningham? Your stomach dropped at the mention of her name. You’d noticed him glancing over at her table in the cafeteria, and saw him at her locker a few times, but that didn’t mean…

Jeff snorted. “He can’t tell her anything without looking like a total moron. ‘H-Hey, Chrissy. Nice hair, um, thing.’” 

“I do not sound like that, asshole.”

“Dude, you said that exact sentence in algebra yesterday. It was a direct quote.”

Your throat was scratchy from shouting during the game, but you cleared it and forced yourself to speak. “What’s going on with Chrissy?”

Grant ignored the glare that Eddie preemptively gave the rest of the guys. “Our fearless leader is smitten with the Queen of Hawkins High,” he teased. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas all underscored his statement with obnoxious kissy noises. 

“Shut up!” Eddie yelled, but it only further spurred them on. 

“Don’t be shy,” Dustin said through his laughter. “Everyone knows you loooooove her!”

You didn’t. Okay, maybe a part of you did, but your optimism—or perhaps naivety—dismissed the idea. Because if he loved Chrissy, that meant he didn’t love you. It meant the long hugs and arms slung over your shoulder were platonic. That the deep conversations late into the night were simply between friends. 

“I don’t love her,” Eddie retorted, his pinkening cheeks giving him away. “I just think she’s cute, okay?”

“Cute?” Lucas said. He rolled his eyes. “Puppies are cute. Kittens are cute. Babies are—”

“Fine, I think she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life!” Eddie snapped, but a soft smile tugged at the ends of his lips. “Are you idiots happy now?”

The most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his life. In his life. 

Happy? You were the farthest thing from happy. 

Your eyes blurred with tears, blinking them back and timing a sniffle with the crinkling of the chip bag as Mike passed it to Lucas. If you could pull yourself together, you could excuse yourself before you broke down completely. 

“Dude.” Jeff looked at Eddie, pulling his gaze to you despite your reluctance to even glance his way. “She’s a girl.”

“Oh, shit.” Eddie chuckled, snagging his Mountain Dew can from the snack table and taking an extended swig. “It’s not like I’m gonna have sex with my best friend, though.”

Gareth feigned a pout. “I thought I was your best friend.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not having sex with you either.”

You watched as Eddie finished his soda, crushing the can in his fist and tossing it at the drummer’s curly mop of hair. 

It’s not like I’m gonna have sex with my best friend. 

Not even a pause. Not a moment of consideration. Nothing close to the movie-esque scene where the boy realized that the girl of his dreams had been right in front of him the whole time. 

Mustering up a half-smile, you pushed yourself off of the couch. “I’m gonna head home. I’m pretty beat.”

Beat. Broken. Destroyed. Shattered. 

Eddie sat up, brushing Lays crumbs onto his jeans and leaving them shiny with oily residue. “Let me drive you,” he offered. 

You shook your head. “N-No, I wanna walk.” 

“It’s raining,” he protested. 

“It’s fine.”

That may have been the first time you’d declined the chance to spend time alone with him. You lived for the days you’d climb into the passenger seat of his van after Hellfire, resting your head against the window as it vibrated from the bass of the radio speakers. 

Eddie shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said, turning his attention back to the guys. 

He didn’t come after you. You heard his laughter echoing around the basement as you ascended the stairs, barely managing to close the door before you burst into tears. 

Everything you wanted Eddie to feel for you, he felt for Chrissy. The thought of watching his eyes follow her around the cafeteria on Monday roiled a sickness within you. 

You wished you’d never showed up to the Wheelers’ today. Although it wouldn’t have changed Eddie’s love for Chrissy—or his lack of love for you—at least you could continue pretending that there was hope. 

Now, you had nothing but a broken heart.  

--

[beginningofwonderland]

Angel - Park Seonghwa

Pairing: domSeonghwaxfemReader

Genre: smut (MINORS DNI!)

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: During a gaming session with your best friend San you admit to him that your boyfriend Seonghwa is too soft to you. You complain about his angel persona and want him to fuck you right instead. To your demise, Seonghwa accidentally listened in on your conversation and is now determined to make all your wishes come true.

Warnings: establishing a safeword but NO USE of that safeword, rough sex, oral sex (both receiving), deep-throating, choking, unprotected sex (don't do this!!), creampie, dumbification

Seonghwa littered soft kisses from your jaw to your lips and smiled at you like the human incarnation of sunshine.

"You feel good now, baby?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes, I do angel." You nuzzled your head into his shoulder in response.

You did feel good. After a cuddly makeout session that had turned steamy in the laziness of a saturday morning Seonghwa had just finished eating you out for what felt like hours. He was an expert with his tongue, making you come multiple times until you had to pull him away from your sensitive core because he would go on forever if he could.

But still you felt like something was missing. With the way he always held onto you like a delicate flower, his fingers merely ghosting over your skin. Sometimes you wished for them to just grab you, to leave you bruised and crying beneath him until you couldn't take any more.

You and Seonghwa were still a relatively new thing and you were sure he had this cute little image of you inside his head that you were afraid to destroy. But deep down inside, you just wanted him to treat you more roughly when it came to the bedroom.

"I'll make us some coffee," he pulled you from your dirty thoughts and you released him from your hug so that he could get out of bed. When he left the room, you sighed. You had tried to give him hints before, telling him to go harder, moving your own hands on top of his to squeeze your skin, but he continued treating you like fine porcelain.

You soon got dressed and joined Seonghwa to make some breakfast. You two shared pancakes in the morning sunlight that fell through the wall length windows in Seonghwa's apartment as you talked about your plans for the day.

"I have a meeting with Hongjoong and then I'll have to run some errands today," Seonghwa explained. "I won't be back before dinner."

"Then I'll meet up with San online for some gaming later. We haven't been able to play in ages." Since San had moved to the other end of town, you two met online more often than in real life and usually used that time to catch up on each other and discuss the hottest gossip. You two had been best friends for years and you had actually met Seonghwa through him.

"That sounds good. Say 'hi' to him from me."

You finished your breakfast and Seonghwa soon left for his appointment with Hongjoong. You started off your day slowly and watched some Netflix before taking a shower and getting dressed. You usually stayed at Seonghwa's place over the weekend since he had the bigger and much nicer apartment out of the two of you.

He even let you make your own little gaming area in his office room where you could play when you stayed at his place. You got yourself a cold drink and finally settled into his comfortable office chair to go online and play with San. He had agreed to meet up only minutes after you had texted him. He usually stayed in on the weekends anyway.

"Hey Sannie," you greeted him through your headset as soon as you joined the call with him.

"Helloooo," he answered in a bright spirit.

You two started setting up the game and soon joined the first match while exchanging small talk. It was a comfortable routine for both of you. Somehow talking to each other while busying yourself with a game just made everything easier. Before you even noticed, you two were already playing for hours.

"So how is it really going right now, San?" You asked during an annoyingly long loading screen. "How is living with Wooyoung?"

A deep sigh was hearable through San's microphone. "He's being Wooyoung, like always. But lately he got into cooking so at least I get meals now to compensate for his annoying ass."

You laughed at his whiny tone. You knew how the two friends were around each other; always teasing and annoying each other but still inseparable. "Just don't fight over a stupid puzzle again. I'm sick of finding pieces whenever I visit you two."

San chuckled at the memory of how he and Wooyoung had thrown puzzle pieces at each other in a petty fight. "And how is it going with Seonghwa?" he asked in return.

"Good," you answered. Your mind couldn't help but wander to the worries you had had just this morning.

"Oh god what is it?" San asked in a panicked tone.

"What do you mean? I said good!" You tried to defend yourself.

"Yeah, but you should've heard yourself saying it. Terrible would've sounded nicer."

You groaned in frustration. You didn't mean to make it sound that bad.

"What is it?" San pressed on. "Cause I swear to god if he treats you badly I will collect Wooyoung and we will kick his ass-"

"He treats me very well, don't worry," you interrupted San before he could get any more dumb ideas.

"You sure?" the man asked sceptically. The next match finally started and you didn't even realize your rambling as you answered him.

"Yeah, in fact he is a literal angel. He already knows all my favourite candies and brings me some everytime he visits the store. He always lets me choose what to watch even if he hates the cheesy horror movies I like. I mean he basically let me turn his office into a gaming room for me."

"I'm happy to hear that. But what is the problem then?" San asked with confusion evident in his voice. "Does he not fuck you right?"

You didn't want to admit to it but the prolonged silence spoke volumes. San laughed at the other end of the call.

"Damn, and I always thought he had it in him. He acts like he does at least. You two do fuck, right?"

San couldn't see but you blushed helplessly in front of the monitor. "Yes, we do. God this is embarrassing."

"How is this embarrassing? You always told me about your dates before Seonghwa. In detail," San argued with you while quite literally saving your life in the match you couldn't concentrate on any more.

"That was fine because you didn't know any of those guys. But you've known Seonghwa longer than I do and this is... embarrassing."

"You're being annoying. You can talk to me Y/n. Maybe I can help," he tried to coerce you into spitting out your problem. "Also I'm nosy. So what's the problem?"

What you didn't notice was that Seonghwa had already returned to the apartment. He had made an effort to open the door as silently as possible. He knew you would still be gaming with San and wanted to surprise you with a self-cooked dinner after you were done. He had sped through all his errands, so that he could come home earlier.

After returning he couldn't resist to check in on you for a second. He wanted to make sure you hadn't noticed his early return and also get another glance at you before preparing dinner. You always looked so cute at his desk with your headset and controller.

He cracked open the door to his office carefully. As expected, you were completely focussed on the game and didn't notice a thing. His eyes flitted over your tight crop top and the sweat shorts you were wearing in the heat and his mind already started wandering places at the sight of your glistening skin. What he didn't expect was what you were talking about.

"The problem is that he treats me a little to well."

Is she talking about me?

Seonghwa was stunned into his place. He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop but he couldn't resist staying a little longer to hear what else you had to say.

"I think you'll need to elaborate on that," San replied audibly confused.

"He treats me like a porcelain doll!" you finally admitted. "I think he has this image of me as his cute, innocent girl that he doesn't want to hurt. But I really wished he would just fuck me without holding back."

San chuckled at the other end of the call. Meanwhile Seonghwa was frozen into his spot. He couldn't believe his own ears. He would've never guessed that this was what you wanted and was surprised by your words.

But more than that he felt a burning heat spread through his whole body as he processed what you said. You wanted him to have his way with you without holding back. The thought made him dizzy.

Ever since you two were together that was exactly what he had been doing: holding back. He thought that you deserved someone that loved you tenderly and carefully. So he tried his best to be that person.

"That sounds like you should just talk to him," San replied after some pondering.

" know," you said. "I want to tell him but I don't know how. It's kind of hard to bring up..."

Seonghwa swallowed hard as he felt bad that you were afraid to speak up to him. You were right. He didn't want to hurt you because he couldn't stand the thought of you hurting. But now that he knew that was exactly what you wanted... he felt every little bit of self control leave his body. He left his place at the door before he could fuck you right there in his office chair and closed the door silently behind him. He had different plans with you.

"I'm afraid he might not like it," you shyly added to San in the silence.

"Trust me," San snickered. "He is heads over heels for you. He won't push you away. Also I happen to know Seonghwa well enough to assure you, that's exactly what he likes."

You smiled at San's reassuring words and you two continued your game. Talking to him had actually made you feel better. You planned on talking to Seonghwa as soon as the opportunity came up.

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

You put the controller back into the drawer which Seonghwa kept free for only you and stretched your limbs after getting out of the chair. You had played longer than expected but it was nice to catch up with San.

Just as you made your way into the living room to maybe watch some more Netflix until Seonghwa returned, you heard some rumbling in the kitchen. The noise took you by surprise and you got scared for a second, thinking it might be an intruder.

"Hwa?" you called out carefully and wandered towards the kitchen. Your heartbeat quickened when noone answered you.

You turned the corner only to see Seonghwa deeply in thought apparently concentrating on the stir fry in front of him. You relaxed as you saw him standing in the kitchen and not a robber.

"You're home already! Why didn't you come say hi to me?" you asked cutely and wrapped your arms around his torso careful not to interrupt his cooking.

He looked down at you almost like in a haze and it took a few seconds before he answered.

"I didn't want to interrupt your gaming session so I thought I'd cook us some dinner."

"That's very nice of you," you said and placed a tender kiss on his cheek. He really did treat you so well. You should talk to him after dinner.

But Seonghwa still seemed to be caught up in something. His eyes stared into the frying pan blankly and his hand stirred in a robotic motion. You eyed him carefully, wondering what could be going on in his head.

"Is everything okay, Hwa?" you asked him worriedly.

In response Seonghwa seemed to snap out of his focus and smiled at you: "Of course, sweetheart."

But his answer sounded posed, his voice a little too melodious as he tried sounding happy. You let it slide for now, not wanting to push him, maybe you were over-interpreting his behaviour.

What you couldn't know was that Seonghwa had spent every single second since he heard you talking to San imagining the things he wanted to do to you. His hand moved without him even noticing as he prepared the meal but his mind was all over the places he wanted to fuck you in now that he knew how much you wanted him to ruin you.

All of the possibilities clouded his mind and he found himself almost a little mad at you for not speaking up to him. All he wanted was for you to be happy but you would have to let him.

Both of you set the table and Seonghwa finished cooking dinner. You two settled down in an unusual silence as he started to fill your plate.

"How was your meeting with Hongjoong?" you asked, trying to get him to talk.

"Good," Seonghwa answered once again, his mind miles away from the meeting with his friend. In fact he couldn't even remember what they had talked about anymore.

His short reply worried you even more. "Are you sure, you're okay, Hwa? I feel like there's something you're not telling me."

Before he could hold himself back Seonghwa huffed out a breath of air and looked at you with a glint in his eyes. The intensity his gaze suddenly held took you by surprise.

"You think there's something I am not telling you?" he asked you back with a cocked up eyebrow. He was still standing while you had already sat down and his hands now came down onto the table to support himself as he looked at you with dark eyes.

 A cold shiver ran over your skin by the insinuation of his words. What was he talking about?

"What do you mean, angel?" you asked him in confusion.

Seonghwa slowly made his way over to you, his eyes fixed on yours like you were his prey. He stopped only inches before you before bending down to be at eye level with you. You could feel his hot breath on your lips.

"Angel. That's the problem about me isn't it? I'm too nice to you aren't I?" he asked with a pitying voice. He wasn't actually mad at you, but your question had stirred the tiniest bit of anger within him that mixed with all the held back sexual desire he had for you after overhearing your talk to San.

You couldn't answer him. How did he find out about what you had only just admitted to your best friend? Every sound got stuck in the back of your throat as Seonghwa stared at you so intensely. The way he hovered above you excited you wildly.

Your boyfriend seemed to take pity on you as he answered your unasked question: "I wanted to see if you were still playing with San when I overheard your little conversation."

A rush of embarrassment ran through you and you lowered your head to hide the blush on your cheeks. But at the same time you got excited. Judging from his behaviour he must have overheard the most important part. When he laid a finger under your chin to lift your head back up, you were already putty in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Hwa. I swear I wanted to talk to you about it," you started apologizing before he even asked you to. An amused grin spread over Seonghwa's handsome features and a small chuckle left him.

"And when exactly, princess? After I eat you out again for hours and you tell me you feel perfect? Did you lie to me too?"

He knew he was getting cruel but the way your eyes widened and you looked at him through those puppy eyes, he was sure he was pushing exactly the right buttons. The panic in your eyes only added to the burning desire inside of him.

"No! I didn't lie to you, Seonghwa! You are so good with your tongue, please I'm sorry." You almost stumbled over your words, eager to calm down the flames behind his hungry eyes.

"Sorry for what exactly? Tell me and I might forgive you." He said those last words slowly, almost in a whisper. Like he wasn't really sure about the idea of forgiving you.

"I'm sorry for not telling you what I want."

"And what is it that you want?" A dangerous smirk spread on his face. He wanted you to say it. Wanted to hear your pretty little voice repeat the words you had spoken to San before.

"I want you to be more rough with me," you almost whispered in admittance as you couldn't help but get shy under his stare.

"What did you say, baby? I couldn't hear you." His hand tightened it's grip on your chin and you almost moaned, already arching your back a little under his touch.

"I want you to be more rough with me, Seonghwa," you repeated louder this time, eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

"No, no. Exactly what you said before, baby!"

You had to rummage through your memory for a second before you could recall the words, you had spoken to San before:

"I really want you to just fuck me without holding back."

"Good girl," he hummed out and you couldn't help but shudder. "Now was that so hard? You know I couldn't help but get a little mad at you for telling San but not me. But now that you already look so pliant for me I can't really hold a grudge."

You swallowed and looked at him expectantly.

"So I can have my way with you now, beautiful?" he asked eagerly, eyes darkening by the second.

"Please," you answered already desperate for him to touch you. You never knew Seonghwa could be this way, but his dominant behaviour already drove you to insanity. If you had known, you would've told him way earlier about your desires.

"Then there's just one more thing," his expression suddenly turned soft again. "I need you to choose a safe word in case I get too much for you. If I make you uncomfortable in any way I want you to stop me. Okay, baby?"

You nodded at him with warm eyes. He made you feel so incredible safe. "How about eavesdropping?"

"You really want me to punish you, don't you?" Seonghwa said in a low tone and lifted your chin just a tiny bit more to show you who was in charge.

"I'm sorry, I'm just joking. I'll go with..." Your eyes flitted across the room in search for a useful word: "sunset."

Seonghwa smiled at you: "Better." Then his eyes darkened again and the warm smile dropped from his face as he looked you up and down.

"You know what I always wanted to do with you?" he asked tauntingly, his thumb running over your bottom lip and his eyes following its trail.

You gave a small shake of your head to show him you didn't know the answer. A smirk tugged on one end of his lips in response.

"You know how much I love it when you're giving me blowjobs, don't you? But I always wanted to fuck your pretty little mouth and make you choke on my cock until you can't breath anymore."

His direct words sent a jolt of electricity through your body and you couldn't stop a moan escaping your lips. His eyes flitted up to yours in surprise at the sound.

"So eager already? Then how about we make that your punishment for not telling me what you actually want, princess?"

You nodded quickly: "Please."

He huffed at you. "Please what, baby? It looks like I need to teach you how to talk properly from now on."

"Please choke me on your cock," you replied shamelessly, eyes blown wide as you stared at him from beneath.

Seonghwa groaned at your words and suddenly he grabbed you by your shoulders and shoved you down to the floor on your knees. He observed you cautiously, worried he might be too rough with you but the fire in your eyes only lit up more as he manhandled you onto the ground.

"Get those pants off of me unless you want me to edge you all night, will you, baby?"

Your hands scrambled to open his belt and jeans in an embarrassingly fast tempo. As you pulled his pants and underwear down, you were surprised to see that he was already fully hard. You would have never thought that your little talk had already turned him on so much.

You grabbed his length eagerly and looking up at him through hooded eyes you started slowly licking along the tip. Seonghwa's eyes fluttered in response and his hand weaved into your hair, to get a firm grip on your head.

"If I were you I wouldn't tease me that much," he grunted out as you continued your kitten licks on his tip. The dark glow in his eyes made your heart race and you quickly took him fully into your mouth.

Seonghwa was rather long and you couldn't fit him into you completely without choking. You did your best to take him as deep as you could but you already felt him hit the back of your throat.

"Am I too big for my small little girl?" he asked tauntingly, pushing you onto him just a tiny bit deeper, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You never knew you would enjoy the feeling of his cock pressing down your throat so much. But maybe it was just the general idea of him using you like he pleased that turned you on so much that your panties were already soaking.

Holding tightly onto your hair, he started fucking himself into your mouth. Seonghwa started off slowly but as you met his thrusts eagerly he sped up his tempo quickly. Soon your eyes fell shut as choked moans reverberated through your throat along his cock. Both your hands grabbed onto his thighs for some kind of hold.

Your whiny noises and the eagerness which with you sucked his dick surprised Seonghwa. He never expected you to be so into it, but as he watched you fall apart on his cock without even getting pleasured yourself, he soon started throbbing in your mouth with an impending orgasm.

Tugging firmly on your hair, he removed your lips from his cock and watched a line of spit trail down your chin as you opened your eyes. The fucked out look on your face almost made him paint your face in cum but he managed to hold back as he bend down to your face and shared a messy kiss with you.

"Didn't know you were such a hungry little slut," he said with glinting eyes before pulling you up from your knees.

You almost stumbled into his arms, your legs not quiet awake from being in the same position for too long. Seonghwa's strong arms caught you and pressed your body to his own for a short moment. The warmth of the embrace made you smile. His grasp held an intimacy that let your heart flutter in almost unbearably strong affection.

"Now you better hurry onto the bed before I ruin you on the carpet right here," Seonghwa rasped into your ear before shoving you off of him once again.

The strong command once again made electricity surge through your body and you hurried to the bedroom. As soon as you sat yourself on the bed and faced back towards Seonghwa he was already in front of you. His pupils blown wide in a state of desire that you had never seen him in before. He grabbed your face harshly between both his hands and shared a deep kiss with you as he hovered above you.

Your hands wound into his raven locks in response, sharing breathless moans as your tongues clashed with one another. One of Seonghwa's hands wandered down to the hem of your shirt and reading his thoughts you interrupted the kiss for him to quickly dispose of your shirt. Left only in a lace bralette and your tiny shorts Seonghwa devoured the sight of you.

"You were right, doll. You do look like such a innocent, fragile little thing to me." His eyes now landed on yours again. "That makes me want to ruin you even more."

He roughly pushed you down onto the bed before crawling over you. As he buried his lips in your neck you could feel his throbbing cock rubbing against your thigh, making you whimper under his touch. All you wanted was for him to touch you but Seonghwa had his own plans with you.

Sucking harshly on your skin he started leaving marks all over your neck. "You like that? Want me to mark you all over?" he asked in between two hickies.

"Yes, please Seonghwa. Make me yours."

Your enthusiasm only spurred him on. His hands started squeezing your breast now, playing with your nipples through the thin fabric covering them. You couldn't help arching your back and trying to rub yourself on his thigh to get some kind of friction where you most wanted it.

In an instant, Seonghwa's hands rushed down to your hips, pinning them against the bed. "Did I allow you to do that, doll? I thought you wanted me to have my way with you?" His eyes were down right intimidating as he looked at you beneath him.

"I'm sorry, Seonghwa. I'll do anything you want."

A small chuckle left him at your desperate response. He had you exactly where he wanted you.

"Strip," was all he said then and within a heartbeat you started removing your shorts and panties, followed by your bra. In the meantime Seonghwa also rid himself of his shirt, leaving you both naked.

He scooted down on the bed, slowly spreading your legs so he could lower his upper body in between your thighs. Looking up at you through his predator-like eyes, he made a show of dragging his fingers slowly over the skin of your inner thighs. When he started placing delicate kisses all around where you needed him the most you started shaking beneath him.

"Please, Seonghwa. Please just touch me."

"Want me here?" he asked tauntingly, starting to gently rub your clit with his middle finger.

"Fuck, yes!" The tiny amount of pleasure already had your lashes fluttering.

"But you want more right? Want me to destroy my little girl and have my way with her?"

You nodded frantically, not being able to bring out anything but whimpers beneath Seonghwa's grasp.

"Well don't make me stop now since you wanted this," Seonghwa said before burying his tongue between your legs.

You really never lied to him when you told him he was insanely good at eating you out. As his tongue circled around your clit, two of his fingers buried themself in your cunt and you closed your eyes in pure pleasure as he started pumping them in and out of you.

Usually he would work you up gently with only one, but after your confessions from today he was way rougher with you now. As a result you felt yourself being thrown towards the edge much faster. Your pleasure already starting to build up as his pace only quickened.

"I'm gonna cum," you warned him through heavy breaths.

But either Seonghwa was too lost between your legs or he didn't care because he just kept on lapping at your core when your high finally crashed down over you. You moaned out shamelessly and as your hips started trembling, Seonghwa pinned them down firmly with his arm.

"Please," you pleaded at him to give you a break but he didn't show any mercy to you.

"I'll make you come as often as I want," he spits at you as his thumb takes over his tongue in pleasuring your sensitive clit. "This is what you asked for, baby."

A mad smile spread on his face that let shivers run over your entire body before he lowered his mouth done again and buried his tongue inside of you. You had to close your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. All of a sudden, the overstimulation was taken over by lust again and you reeled towards another orgasm faster than you had ever done before.

"Fuck," you moaned before a few more firm circles of Seonghwa's thumb pushed you over the edge again. This time you didn't tremble but went full on limp beneath him. Your ears were ringing as the intense feeling rushed through your body. Faintly, you notice Seonghwa finally detaching from your core.

"Look at you all messed up and I haven't even fucked you yet," he snickered as he crawled on top of you. Seonghwa let his fingers graze over your cheek, taking in the beauty of your fucked out expression.

"You still feeling good?" he asked then in a slightly softer tone. But as soon as you mumbled a weak "yes" he was back to his demon self.

"I'll make you feel even better then," he said before slowly burying his hard cock inside of you.

At this point you were dripping wet but you still gasped at his size and the feeling of him finally filling you up. "Please, fuck me, Hwa!" you managed to beg him through big doe eyes and fluttering lashes.

Seonghwa moaned in return before starting to pound into you in a steady rhythm. He didn't go too fast but every single thrust hit you deep inside and soon you found yourself clinging onto his arms, as your life depended on it while he rearranged your insides.

Never had you ever imagined that asking Seonghwa to be rougher with you would give you this amount of pleasure. He was everything you had ever wanted and more.

As his pace increased you felt your head starting to swim more and more. Any coherent thought was lost to the way his hips snapped into you and his heavy breaths played like music in your ears.

"I love you, Hwa," you suddenly confessed through high pitch moans. You told him that quite often, but with the way you were buried beneath him, completely at his mercy, the words stirred something inside Seonghwa.

"Fuck, baby. Me too." His thrusts turned sloppy for a few seconds before he recovered a little. "You look so fucking perfect like this. I won't ever hold back on ruining you again, I promise."

You simply whimpered in response, unable to form a coherent sentence. Seonghwa lowered himself down to catch your lips in a desperate kiss while keeping up with his thrusts. Both of you were breathing heavy, but you still clung to each others touch as if your life depended on it.

"I'm close," Seonghwa moaned into your mouth between open-mouthed kisses. As his release neared, his eyes turned softer and he caressed your cheek with his thumb adoringly.

"Please come inside me," you pleaded him.

His eyes fluttered at your request. "Anything you want, baby."

And with that Seonghwa stilled deep inside you, groaning as his cum spurted into you. As soon as his cock started twitching you came one more time. This time it felt warm and comforting as Seonghwa held you so tightly and stayed deep within you until you stopped trembling. You wanted to stay like this forever: him buried deep beneath you and nothing on your mind but pure bliss.

When you finally recovered a little, you caught his lips again for a few more lazy kisses. "You were fucking amazing, angel," you praised him in between kisses.

"All this and you still call me angel?" he joked but you knew he didn't mind. His eyes only held love and adoration as he stared down into yours.

Slowly, he pulled out of you and laid down beside you before pulling you into his chest to rest. "I really wish you had told me earlier. We missed out on a lot."

"I don't mind catching up," you answered with a chuckle.

I wrote this over a long time span so I'm not too happy with it but I hope you still enjoy!

[earthtooz]

clingy!gojo x gn!reader, fluff, use of pet names, a little bullying from reader but that's okay- it's gojo /j, he's annoying and probs ooc.

gojo satoru is as codependent as he is powerful and you came to realise that the hard way during the timeline of your relationship. what began as a peaceful saturday morning lying together in bed has now become a total wrestling match, one that you were drastically losing in in comparison to gojo's unmatched strength.

"get off me, 'toru, i need to go buy groceries before the shops begin getting busy!" you huff, your hand on his shoulder doing nothing to make him budge no matter how hard you tried.

he whines, loud and pathetic in your ear. "don't leave! i'll be all cold and miserable!"

"oh boohoo. move," as an afterthought, you add: "please?"

he shakes his head, white strands tickling your chin as the sorcerer shoves himself further into your warmth, holding you with a kind of fervour that spiders have to their webs.

you don't know how you can get out of this one.

"please, love?" gojo loves it when you bring out pet names for him; something you monopolise in hopes of lowering his defence. "i'll be quick too. just a trip to the grocery store and then i'll be back, is that such a demanding request?"

"yes. i don't know what could happen to you out there, what if a special grade curse appears? i'd never forgive myself."

"then come with me."

"too cold for that. i'm staying here."

you roll your eyes. chivalry is dead. "glad to know that you've got my back. whatever. i can handle myself, 'toru, you know that."

"okay, but i can't- that's why you need to stay!"

"you have more cursed energy in one finger than i do my whole body."

he hmphs.

"you can destroy buildings for miles."

he hmphs again.

"your birth literally shook the jujutsu world."

the white-haired hmphs one final time, his cutesy act only doing so much when the grip he has around you contradicts it. gojo's strength is not something to be messed with but you just hope that he stops squeezing you soon because it was getting harder and harder to breathe. paired with his weight on top of yours, you don't think you two can get any humanly closer.

"'satoru," you groan, utterly exasperated at his stubbornness. "you're acting very sweet and all but i'm serious. we don't have enough food. we ran out of milk for your daily mocha-"

the sorcerer places delicate kisses along your collarbone, cutting you off as you shiver from the sensation, especially when his lips brushes over a sensitive part of your skin.

"-don't care."

"gojo," you murmur in a warning tone, any hint of affection draining out of your voice.

bad idea. you knew what using his family name would result in and in your sleepy, yet frustrated haze, you hadn't considered the consequences. not until gojo's clinginess intensifies, his head rising from your chest whilst one of his hands pause midway through the heart he was tracing on your skin. he's looking at you with eyes that glisten with love, worry and fear. you now feel guilt washing over you, unable to muster the words to apologise before he speaks up.

"please don't be mad, i mean well," your lover whispers, the sunlight that snuck through your blinds illuminating him beautifully, deliciously sculpting the planes of his back. "i love you so much, don't you know? i thought you loved me too."

you sigh, flopping your head back into your pillow.

gojo continues littering kisses here and there, a new sense of desperation lingering with his actions. "at select times," you quip.

"babe, that's mean!"

"just as mean as you trapping me here. i'm hungry, gojo, and i have things i need to do."

"stop calling me that," he whines, pushing himself up only to crawl up higher, his head now fitting into your neck from where it rested against your sternum earlier.

great. now you can feel even more of his weight as he flops atop you.

tapping his shoulder in surrender, the best you can mutter is a breathy 'you're heavy' before he expertly manoeuvres the two of you, all pressure disappearing immediately as you now lie on your side.

gojo looks down at you with so much love and adoration, that it sends you reeling, regretting looking at him. your resolve cracks even more with the gentle kiss he presses against your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling away.

he seems to be even happier in this position, arms wrapping tight around your torso in a bone-crushing embrace, keeping you right against his exposed chest.

right against his heart.

this is a battle you've lost, you decide, surrendering by wrapping your arm around the white-haired's torso.

gojo doesn't miss the action, no, he revels in it and you don't even have to see him to know that he's smirking. smugness dripping in his tone when he asks, "oh? finally gave in to my charms, babe?"

"you're so annoying," you grunt, unwrapping yourself and shuffling around in gojo's hold to face away from your boyfriend.

once again, you don't even need to see him to see the astonished look he gives you, eyebrows furrowed and jaw dropped in disbelief. imagining it provides you with a little feeling of satisfaction.

"unbelievable!" gawks the sorcerer. "i am merely trying to show you my love and you do-"

"-'toru," you declare, the affectionate nickname only you use immediately silencing him. "go to sleep. or i'll leave your ass for everything you've put me through this morning."

detecting the airiness in your tone, he knows your threat cannot be farther from a lie. but still, he complies but not without murmuring a small 'unfair' before tucking himself into you, completely overwhelming you with his limbs.

"i love you," you confess, the words hovering into air, dissipating before long but gojo hears it. he always does. he's engraved the way you say those three words in his mind.

it sounds sweeter every time though, causing butterflies to erupt in his chest as gojo kisses your cheek. "i love you more," parting with a little bite, you swat him away as he sinks back into his position, laughing in amusement.

you end up going to the supermarket together that afternoon.

[genericpuff]

LORE | REKINDLED EPISODE 41 - TOWER 4

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Nothing quite sets in the holiday spirit like SPOOOOKY SHIT-

Can you believe it's been a year since Rekindled actually started? The way time flies when you're having fun. I had actually forgotten I had redrawn a lot of those first few episodes when I made it an official "thing" (i.e. when I put it on an update schedule and signed my life away foreverrr /j) so tracing back when Rekindled officially 'began' had me finding old versions of those first few episodes that were oooooof bro-

Okay, but for real, Rekindled's come a long way, and it still has a long way to go still which makes me so excited. As much as those who see what I do here like to assume it's purely out of spite and hate, I really do love working on this comic, and that includes the part of the process where I revisit old episodes of LO that, even after everything, I still love. The newer seasons may be dead to me, but what it used to be has a special place in my heart, and Rekindled has really helped me explore what could have been. It's made Saturday nights a thrill for me again - I get to enjoy two whole doses of LO content now, with a fun balance of flavors that makes being a part of this community twice as fun as normal. You could say it's really rekindled my flame for LO-

A very special thanks to @banshriek, who's helped me bring Rekindled to a whole new level that wouldn't exist without them. They've been an amazing assistant and a wonderful friend and I'm so thankful to have them in my corner <3

And thank you! All of you, for following along with Rekindled, reading my essays, destroying my ask inbox, and just being an awesome community full of awesome people. I've got a busy year ahead with lots of stuff planned, from art markets and expos to plot threads in Rekindled that I'm hyped af to get to; not to mention Lore Olympus officially ends this year, meaning I'll undoubtedly have loads to talk about (which fills me with both a strange sense of excitement and dread at the same time LOL) I'm gonna try and take it all in the best spirit that I can, I wanna come out of this shit sparkling like one of Hades' diamond golf balls.

Let's make 2024 a fucking banger.

[vidavalor]

I was wondering if you've talked about why Gabriel was on a jog in season 1 episode 4. It always felt off to me since it's such a human activity

Hi @anxious-al! 💕 Hope you're having a nice week so far. *gets the mugs* as there's always hot chocolate available for Gabriel-themed questions. 😊

What a time to be going for a "human" jog, eh? This takes place on the morning of The Last Day of The World:

Gabriel is supposed to destroy this planet later that day and he's down on it, alone, jogging in the park... why?... and what of the human woman dressed as an angel at the edge of the park?

The scene wherein Aziraphale interrupts Gabriel on a morning run in the park begins with one of the strangest moments in the series-- Aziraphale being distracted by a human woman dressed in head-to-toe gold with harp-like angel wings. She is a performance artist and her art is that she is dressed as an angel. She stands there, silent, sending her artistic message for both the characters in the story who notice her and for us as the audience to interpret. This makes her a bit meta for the story of Good Omens as a whole.

What message is The Angel Woman saying to her fellow humans with this? is a question that leads us to another one as a result:

What is Good Omens saying by using angels and demons in their story written for us humans?

Perhaps that there is divinity in humanity? Perhaps that we spend all this time glorifying holy beings that we can't prove even exist when, really, we humans embody the angelic and the demonic and everything in between? That we're really the magical ones?

The Angel Woman is a character in a story written by humans who are using angels and demons to make points about human living... and who are the other characters in this scene? Gabriel and Aziraphale... a pair of angels on Earth and who are both engaged in aspects of what they might see as "human" living.

This scene is one in the story pointing out that "human living" is really just living, period.

Aziraphale stops and contemplates the angel-dressed performance artist and that is the start of the scene. The "human cosplaying" Gabriel then jogs by them-- paralleling both the angel who lives like a human and the human who is dressed as an angel. Here's The Supreme Archangel of Heaven on the last morning on Earth and what is he doing?

He's jogging in the park. Like a human.

The episode is called "Saturday Morning Funtime" and has more Gabriel in its front half than any episode prior to it, as we begin to see that he's actually who it's named for. Everyone is miserable ahead of Armageddon but the one who has a Saturday Morning Funtime routine is Gabriel. This guy who is the commander of the armed forces of Heaven and entrapped by a supernatural fascist regime hellbent on destroying this place?

Yeah, he secretly kinda loves Earth.

Gabriel is keeping himself from going mad by carving out some escape time on Earth where he does some moderate exercise in the fresh air and clears his head. No one knows who he is down there. He's just another hot dude running in the park. It gets him away from the other angels always circling him like vultures and gives him some precious alone time.

There are other scenes that indicate that, as Earth has gone on, Gabriel has been using the power of his position to escape to it from time to time. Gabriel's only possessions until S2 are his custom-tailored clothes and they were made on Earth. He shows a curiosity about how Aziraphale chooses to live in the sushi scene in 1.01. Yes, he's judgy about it but he's judgy to hide the fact that he's asking out of interest-- rather than using the power he has to order Aziraphale not to make his own choices over it.

Gabriel is shown to be a lot more "live and let live" than he might initially seem to be. He is one of the only angels who doesn't view the demons as beneath them and he covers for Michael's relationships with them. Several scenes suggest pretty heavily that he's known about Crowley and Aziraphale for ages and has been keeping that knowledge from The Metatron. He doesn't care that Aziraphale does human things on Earth like eating or that he wants to live a more human-like existence. He doesn't totally understand all aspects of it but that doesn't stop him from being more fundamentally curious about it than anything else.

Gabriel actually doesn't care that Aziraphale's in love with Crowley. Gabriel can get the appeal, actually. Gabriel knows how it goes anyway... he's got a bit of a thing for the "informant" he references to Aziraphale in 1.01-- Lord Beezlebub, the only being he feels like he really be anything close to his true self around, who also happens to be a demon. The demons are supposed to be the angels' mortal enemies but Gabriel thinks that's kind of bullshit. They're just people and he remembers what a lot of them were like before Hell became a thing. They were smart, creative people, most of whom did little wrong but for asking the same questions that Gabriel privately asks himself daily.

So, he's been coming down to Earth to check it out for awhile, when he can come up with an excuse to escape his prison. Sometime pre-S1, he started to do more than observe and basically got himself a hobby in jogging, like a human might do. Something for him and him alone. This is a big deal because Gabriel has virtually nothing else that is own.

Gabriel doesn't own a single, non-clothing material object in S1 and never has at this point. The first present he'll ever be given is the fly in the matchbox from Beez. His clothes are his only possessions, which is partially why he's so vain about them. They are the only way he's allowed to express a sense of individuality in Heaven-- and he made that happen.

This is related to the jogging and is a much, much bigger deal than it might initially seem...

In S2, when we go back to the Job minisode era, we see that all of the angels used to dress in, more-or-less, the same thing. They all look like what they are-- members of a cult. Even The Supreme Archangel is wearing basically a white sheet roped off in gold. The homogeneity of the look is the point.

There's a psychological reason why cults of all sorts-- and armies of all sorts-- have an uniform. It's to reinforce a sense of negative groupthink over a sense of individuality. When you are allowed to dress as you wish, you have freedom of expression, and this obviously causes you to consider how you wish to express yourself to others. It gives you the free reign we all should have to be who we are-- and to be able to consider who that is and evolve our sense of self over time. This is absolutely against the mindset of dictatorships and cults and anything in that vein.

The last thing they want is for people to see themselves as individual people because that stuff gets dangerous. They might get ideas. They might form their own opinions and start to act on them. It makes people harder to control. This is why Gabriel and his clothes are so important.

The only way the whole 'everyone is basically wearing a table cloth' situation changed for the angels sometime post-Job is if The Supreme Archangel okayed it. He's the only one with just enough power to have made this happen, if not enough power to overthrow The Metatron on his own. Gabriel saw Aziraphale begin to wear different things on Earth with the built-in excuse of Aziraphale having to blend in with the humans and white robes were no longer a style that would work.

Aziraphale, as a result, became the first angel to have an excuse to express himself as an individual because he got to choose what he'd like to wear while he was on Earth. Gabriel noted this and basically said to himself that looks fun. Our dude was very tired of this white robe situation and seeing Aziraphale get to play made Gabriel want to as well so he went to Aziraphale at some point and basically said teach me about what the humans are doing about clothes.

Gabriel had an excuse to change his look, too-- he'd have to go to Earth sometimes to do Supreme Archangel Checking Up On Stuff Things. He'd have to look like a human, too. He loved it. Playing human dress up was super fun and brought all new kinds of thoughts. What fabrics he liked, what looks he liked, what he thought about how the different clothes looked on him, what made him feel different ways about himself. Clothes are self-expression, after all-- they reflect how we feel about ourselves and support the image we are trying to project. Gabriel got into this, big-time, and then turned around and asked the dangerous question to himself:

What if we did this in Heaven, too?

What if he used what power he had to change the rules about what the angels wore? What if he told everyone they could wear whatever they wanted? The army would still have an uniform for when they were running drills or whatever and maybe there'd be a color-scheme because Gabriel knew The Metatron was going to lose it about this so he came up with some parameters but he basically overthrew the tablecloth tyranny and told every other angel that they were free to express themselves the way they wanted and, if you ask me? That's why he and The Metatron are snarking about Gabriel's suit during his trial.

The Metatron never got over the fact that Gabriel pushed the clothes thing and knew how to get just enough of what he could without making it more trouble than it was worth to kill him over it. The Metatron takes some evil delight in telling Gabriel that "appropriate raiment" will be provided for him-- he'll have to wear what The Metatron dictates, in other words-- now that he'll be a bottom-of-the-barrel junior recording analyst. Gabriel, though?

He got the last laugh. He used taking off his suit as a reason to leave, along with clearing out his non-existent desk, and fled Heaven buck ass naked rather than put up with The Metatron's bullshit for another minute.

The moment Crowley fell in love with Gabriel was when he saw just how much Gabriel loathes The Metatron in these just take me out back and shoot me ffs faces he was making during his trial:

Anyway, the point is that all the angels are following Gabriel's lead and that's probably half the reason why almost everyone in Heaven dresses in a variation of Aziraphale or Gabriel's styles. (Ever notice how Michael and Uriel look like they're in some kind of suit battle and both of them are trying to emulate Gabriel a bit?) While many of the angels aren't really reinventing the rules of fashion up there, the idea worked: they all look different from one another. They all can express themselves as they desire when it comes to how they look. They've all had to think about themselves for at least long enough as it takes to come up with outfits and view themselves as an individual person to do so.

It's perhaps worth noting in here then, too, how funny it is that The Metatron is a floating head... that's how he presents himself. He's the one character who doesn't have a body. It's symbolic of how he feels he's above even the idea of having anything like the pesky needs of human corporation. The ideal of Heaven is him, in his eyes, and he is above the vessel through which all living beings actually live...

...and the one challenging him every step of the way as much as he can is The Supreme Archangel...

...who, amusingly, happens to have a rather pleasing physical corporation appreciated by many, many different sorts of beings.

Looked at that way? Gabriel's peacocking about his clothes is not pure vanity but just the best example of what little rebellious fires he's been able to start Up there. A focus on clothes is also a focus on your body-- for better or worse-- and so it's not really surprising that Gabriel's Earthly hobby is looking goooood in some grey sweatpants while he escapes a little from the pressures of his world.

There's something kind of delicious about Gabriel deciding that he has some Saturday Morning Funtime now-- he has an exercise routine. He's like peace out, MetaT-- I'm going to take my fantastic corporation *jogging*. Rot in Hell, you fascist Mr. Potato Head...

Aziraphale is interruping Gabriel's alone time in 1.04 and if you look closely, you'll notice that Gabriel actually looks upset as he's running before Aziraphale sees him. He doesn't actually want to destroy Earth. He feels he has no choice and he's terrified of The Metatron but he likes Earth. He doesn't fully understand of it-- to be fair to him, no one really does lol-- but he likes it enough to have been escaping to it for awhile now.

By S2, in a parallel scene to the jogging one, Aziraphale will be beginning to get the idea of him and Gabriel both having versions of the Heaven-induced perfectionism and anxiety a bit more, though... and about how that's not any different from humans who go through the same thing.

The angel human doing performance art (complete with foreshadowing the discus halo) in S1:

The art of the Gabriel statue in Edinburgh in S2:

In S2, the art is a human-made sculpture deitifying Gabriel. It causes Aziraphale to further consider what life might have been like for a being who is, really, just some dude, but who has been held up as a holy symbol in this way by angels and humans alike.

Adding to this is that the statue of Gabriel is in the middle of a human graveyard. While this has a really eerie layer in S2 considering that we see it after Gabriel has fallen, which is a kind of death, and now lives among the humans, there's a way of looking at it that is also in keeping with what S1's human performance artist angel was talking about-- there's not this big line between these kind of beings.

Emphasizing this? The Angel Woman isn't just dressed as an angel-- she is also wearing a dress and a human sun hat. She reflects how having a halo hanging over your head symbolizing your need to be perfect in a way that causes you to see yourself as someone who should be above humans is not just an angelic thing-- it's a very human thing, too. That's the point of these angels and demons in Good Omens. They're just like us in every way that really matters and their stories are no different at the core from what we experience.

Crowley and Aziraphale actually have it a lot better than most of the angels and demons. They have been able to live on Earth since the beginning. They aren't completely free of the regime that threatens them but they've found a way of escaping it as much as they can. They've been free to learn and explore and experiment and enjoy much more than the others have. They've been free to have a relationship with one another-- to have a friend they can trust and talk to-- which not all of the angels and demons do. (Not all humans do, either.) Of all of the less fortunate characters? Gabriel, despite having some power in Heaven, might have actually been one of the worst off.

Why is Gabriel jogging in the park on the morning of the last day of Earth? Because Gabriel likes to go for solo jogs in the park...

... just like many humans who have stressful jobs and like to wake up on Saturday morning and throw on a sweatsuit and sneakers and get outside to get some fresh air, move, and try to quiet their thoughts.

That Gabriel is already in this place in S1 is a surprising twist thrown into 1.04 that actually makes us kind of want to scream at Aziraphale 'ask him why he's fucking jogging, Az!' Aziraphale is trying to make the point that they don't need to destroy Earth but the one thing he fails to point out is that Earth is the planet that they're currently both standing on and which Gabriel seems to really be enjoying.

Gabriel couldn't agree with Aziraphale in the jogging scene, though, even if he wanted to, for the most ironic reason possible. This one:

Crowley and Aziraphale don't realize it because they're afraid of Gabriel until S2 but he's as trapped as they are. He's as watched as they are. Ducks have ears-- there's always someone listening in the fascist regime of this Heaven/Hell system. Gabriel couldn't say in a public park anything that sounds outside of what he's supposed to say, even if he wanted to, or he'd be in danger for it.

Gabriel is wearing human clothes that are appropriate to the time period he's in while he's jogging. He has a preferred park and route. He's gone through a whole thing to get to this point-- seeing this activity, learning about its benefits, deeming it appealing and something he'd like to try, getting what he needs to do it, finding a time to do so, trying it out and getting good at it... he's done all this already by this scene, showing that he's already subtly rebelling.

There is also that a lot of humans jog, at least in part, to manage mental health issues. It's prescriptive for depression and when we see Gabriel in the post-S1/pre-S2-set flashbacks, he's exhibiting signs that would have gotten him instantly diagnosed with depression had he been a human. It was not new-- more like his default state-- before talking more intimately with Beez started to help him manage it.

This might indicate that Gabriel was already in a place pre-S1 where he viewed humans as having knowledge that could benefit him and other angels-- a point of view that Crowley and Aziraphale also share. To get there, he'd have to have stopped seeing himself as superior to humans-- if he ever did in the first place, which isn't really known. Gabriel does show a surprising aptitude for subversive thinking so it's possible he never really bought the idea that they were superior beings but, even if he did, he doesn't by sometime prior to S1 because the human activity he's gotten for a hobby is one known for helping humans manage the anxiety and stress he knows he also feels.

It's also an activity that Gabriel can get away with doing because it's physical and he's The Commander of The Heavenly Host, Heaven's armed forces. No one can question why he wants to go to Earth to work out because it seems like he's just a devoted soldier when, really, he's doing it to get away from everything for a bit. Jogging gives him time and space to think and to be alone, away from Heaven. It's peaceful when he knows precious little peace. He's also quite literally running from Heaven lol and this was already happening for awhile before S1 happened, let alone S2.

You might say: ok, but Gabriel doesn't *need* to jog... he's magical!

Yes, he's magical... which seems to be like having an extra-long, somewhat-eternal backup battery. It doesn't actually mean that Gabriel doesn't need to exercise. Living beings can go a surprisingly long time repressed from what it is that they need to survive and being magical is suggested to have caused some of these angels and demons to remain alive so long without what it is that they truly need to thrive as people that they've convinced themselves that they don't actually need these things.

Sure, the angels and demons have superhuman powers but they are also very human at the same time...

In S2, Gabriel will describe having what we might call human physical sensations on his way to the bookshop. His arms got sore from holding a box at a weird angle for awhile on his walk-- just like ours would. He was cold from being naked until Aziraphale gave him a blanket. Aziraphale was winded trying to jog with him in this scene in S1. Crowley has basically developed a human sleep schedule over the years to a point that while he can survive missing a night of sleep, he feels the effects of it, as he was mentioning in S2.

To say that these characters being magical means that they're "flawless" would be to get a little "master race" gross, right? And the show does not. The angels and demons have human corporations in all shapes and sizes. Human corporations are just one option for them, even if also the most common, and those options are not built to be without any challenges-- they're built to be human.

Crowley, for instance, is basically a god in terms of power and he's also canonically far-sighted. He built the known universe but he also can't read the paper you just put in front of his eyes without his reading glasses. He can make it rain with his fingertips... and he also has an anxiety disorder. All of this is a story that is using angels and demons as metaphors for human living. We humans have more power than we think, as shown through how the magical angels and demons in the story are more "human" than many of them have been led to believe.

All of the angels and demons might not be at risk from most major human disease, for example... but that's if you're talking about things like Covid and bubonic plague... not if you're talking about the most common ailments plaguing humanity. The major supernatural characters in this story have things like anxiety disorders, depression, and PTSD. Many of them have complicated relationships with food and insecurities about their corporations. They deal with issues of loneliness and the effects of different kinds of trauma and abuse. Every one of them has trust issues for days. Aside from the main four, most of the angels and demons have no idea how hungry, tired, lonely and unfulfilled they are because they think they aren't actually supposed to want things like food, rest, creative outlets, and friendship. If they do feel a desire for these things, they think there's something wrong with them because they've been told they not to want or need in this way.

The few of the angels and demons that can get beyond the b.s. they've been taught and consider that they might not be superior to humans and might have some things in common with them? They break through and start to learn from humans.

Even though they both see each themselves as not fully human and as basically living amongst-- rather than with-- the humans, both Crowley and Aziraphale have experienced enough of the world to know that they're not terribly different from humans. They don't see a lot of their own challenges and experiences as different from that of humans and they actively seek out human knowledge and thoughts on how to manage their way through life. They recognize that their full range of emotions is not any different from that of the humans-- whether the emotions in question are the love they feel for one another or something they have to deal with, like anxiety.

As we see in S2, the choice of corporation for a supernatural being can have consequences that can affect them as a whole. Yes, these beings are more protected than humans, as they can morph into whatever they want and they have miracles that they can use to protect themselves in most situations... but they can actually die if they get into a situation dangerous to them enough, like what The Bullet Catch could have been.

Furfur said that if Crowley had missed and Aziraphale had been shot in the head, that "they might not have been able to put him together again"-- meaning, that Aziraphale could have actually died from a bullet to the head... just like how humans can. While in human form, the angels and demons' minds really are contained within their brains, like is the case with humans. Supernatural beings have a mind-body connection to their corporations of choice-- just as we do with our bodies-- and they're basically all out here choosing human bodies as a default option, right? So, how different are they from us, really? Not that much.

This would mean that their corporations do need the same things that human bodies do. The difference is that, being magical, they can go for eons without addressing these needs, whereas most of us who are only human over here get hangry after four hours without a snack and need to sleep for several hours every day in order to function.

They do need to breathe to be healthy, if not to completely stay alive, because their corporations prefer oxygen and breathing causes the human body to function properly. They can go for millennia without eating... but that doesn't at all mean that they should. When they finally do, they can eat an entire ox without a second thought and why? Because they're starving. They can magically last an absurd amount of time in their repression but they're unnecessarily suffering in doing so.

Crowley and Aziraphale know this. They've learned it themselves. That's why they're giving out warm beverages and sarcastic masturbation tutorials to whatever interested supernatural beings shows up at the door for much of S2.

This is Gabriel's office, shown to us moments after his jog in the park:

That is where he's spent thousands of years. This is his office and what counts as his home. This dude doesn't even have a chair. Look at how huge that space is and how small he seems in it. He can't go out on that balcony. This isn't an office or a house so much as it's a prison cell. This scene shows us why he jogs in the park-- it's his time in the yard during his prison sentence, basically.

Look at how we and Michael come into the scene and see that Gabriel is just staring out the window at the world, tapping his finger against his mouth, lost in thought. This is not a being who is super jazzed to destroy this place later in the day. He's up there like a damn fairy tale princess, trapped in a glass tower in the sky, looking down at the human world and wondering why it is that it's only humans can have it when they really don't seem that different from the angels and demons.

All of us humans with terrible jobs and other stressful situations can usually find a way out of it, except for maybe those of us trapped in an active war zone. What do we humans do? We sleep, we shower, we do some yoga or meditate, we enjoy stories, we make art, we have some good food, we find things that make us laugh and share them with friends and loved ones. Some of us also seek other kinds of connection as well-- a sexual and/or romantic partner. S2 shows us that Gabriel is not aromantic, as he's fallen in love with Beez-- which just emphasizes that, for thousands of years, this sort of thing was never an option for him and another need that was not being met.

Michael is correct in S2 that Gabriel doesn't have a desk to clean out. He has a single, white pedestal without any drawers onto which the occasional file folder can be placed if someone has a meeting with him. (One wonders if Heaven only even has physical file folders as an excuse to have the occasional barely-there table just to break up the expanse of empty space to keep them all from going mad.) Aside from his clothes, he does not possess a single material object, as he's not allowed to.

Imagine not owning a single book. Not having a favorite blanket. Not having a favorite mug. Not having lost these things but having never had them before at all. No presents because you have no friends. The first person to ever give Gabriel something is Beez and that hasn't happened by this point in the story.

We know Aziraphale understands this. Aziraphale wanted a home with a door he could lock and privacy enough to try to live a life of sorts with his partner and a place to store the material objects that he owns. His own, cluttered desk with a million little nooks and shelves. A chair, books, a bed he can be in with Crowley without Head Office finding out and killing them for it. That's the genius bookshop embassy that Gabriel will run to when he finally cracks but Gabriel himself?

He's had almost none of that kind of freedom for himself.

Aziraphale knows what it is to have nothing of your own and that's why he gives Gabriel his angel mug. He's literally writing Jim's name on everything that Jim owns because he knows that while it's not about material objects, Gabriel doesn't have anything of his own. It's about choice-- down here on Earth, Gabriel can choose to call himself something different. He can have a more peaceful and satisfying job and books to read and a favorite drink and a mug of his own and friends to talk to. He can try the hot chocolate and the tiny dinners if he wants without anyone judging him or trying to kill him for it. He can be free to be his own person on Earth.

Consider the contrasting shots of Gabriel in 1.04, shown staring out the window of his prison walls at the Earth he was supposed to destroy... and Jim waking up on Earth, in cozy pajamas, to look out the window of the bookshop while making himself a warm, morning drink in his own mug.

Kind of makes you want to hug him, doesn't it?

Back in 1.04, though? The scene in Gabriel's office showed us what he's up against Up there and just how isolated he is at that time. Michael is the one angel you'd think he'd be able to trust, as they've been through it together for thousands of years, but we see very clearly why Gabriel does not trust them.

Michael is a hypocrite. They talk to the demons unofficially and Gabriel has been protecting them for it from The Metatron. Yet, at the first opportunity, Michael throws Aziraphale under the bus by reporting him for doing the very same thing they are. After S2, we see that this is also a swipe at Gabriel himself-- Michael knows that Gabriel knows about Crowley and Aziraphale and has never done anything about it, even though he "should" by the rules of Heaven. This isn't just Michael selling out Aziraphale-- it's Michael taking a shot at Gabriel himself. It's a reminder that there's always someone who seeks favor with The Metatron watching and Gabriel is completely trapped-- more so, even, than Crowley & Aziraphale.

He doesn't have any choice but to tell Michael that they can pursue it but he's gloriously bitchy about all of it. He doesn't so much as blink in telling Michael that he's sure there's "a perfectly innocent explanation"-- meaning: sure, go ahead, take a shot, but I am in charge and I will continue to be doing fuck all about Aziraphale boffing Bildad the Shuite, Michael.

He also is sly as all hell when he reminds them that "there are no back channels"-- by 'back channels', you mean you're calling your demon boyfriend, have I got that right, Michael? The one I happily pretend you don't have? God, you're awful...

Michael wants Gabriel's job and the brownie points with The Metatron so they're pursuing Aziraphale to show that they're willing to go after subversive angels and they're threatening Gabriel with exposing that he's known for ages about Aziraphale and did nothing-- which makes him an accessory to it. Gabriel has no other choice but to tell Michael to keep pursuing it but it's an example of how the wolves are always circling for Gabriel and how trapped he really is. His only defense is his you're going to regret fucking with me attitude.

As Michael leaves, the scene ends on Gabriel picking up one of the pictures of Crowley and Aziraphale. He's drawn to the one of them sitting together where?

Where Gabriel himself just was.

In the park.

What would it be like to live like they do? he seems to be wondering, for probably the millionth time. How much longer am I going to be able to keep them alive? Am I going to go down with them?

Nah. It's their turn now, Gabriel...