#their survival becomes key but that’s for later

[firewasabeast]

Just thinking about Tommy Kinard who grew up wishing he was hugged and loved like the neighbors kids were. He’d watch them run off the school bus and right into their mom or dad’s arms and be scooped up and held tight. Sometimes he could smell freshly baked cookies or a pot roast coming from their home as he’d turn the key and walk into his own house. His house where his dad would grunt at him for another beer and tell him to fix them both a frozen dinner (“just don’t eat my Salisbury steak, boy, that one’s mine”). Then one afternoon, when his dad caught him staring out the window at the neighbors all outside playing catch, he gave him a smack on the back of the head and told him to stop daydreaming. Those people were phonies who were never up to any good. Families like that don’t really exist, and they’re never as happy as they seem!

So Tommy buries away the idea he’ll have that. Stops watching the neighbors. Rolls his eyes when he does happen to catch one of their hugs. Grows a bit of a hardened shell.

Then he reaches high school and he thinks things will change now. He’ll have more freedom and friends and maybe he’ll join a club. But his dad tells him clubs are for sissies and he’s gonna be in sports instead. His dad is good friends with the football coach so he doesn’t have to try out. He’s just on the team, whether he likes it or not. And the other guys on the team are crude and constantly taunt and tease each other. Tommy doesn’t join in at first, would rather keep to himself, but that makes him an outcast and a loser and the butt of all their jokes so it’s easier to join in. His shell gets a little thicker.

Recruiters come to the school during his senior year and his grades are good, he could probably get a scholarship or two to a state university, but they promise so much. He’ll get to see the world! They have all these specialized programs he can choose from. They pay well and he’ll have the benefits forever. Most importantly, he’ll be away from his dad. The recruiter doesn’t have to work very hard that day. When Tommy leaves for basic he’s a little scared but mostly excited to be away! And the drill sergeants yell at him and taunt him just like the football team, just like his dad, but he can take it. He can and does prove them wrong.

He’s been wondering things about himself lately. Doesn’t let himself wonder very long though, or his heart races a bit too fast and he panics. There was this one time at basic where he had a moment alone and he jerked himself off but he didn’t use the Playboy magazines the other guys had hidden under their bunks. He thinks of Tyler instead. The guy who was in the bunk above him and had tan skin and muscles all over and a million dollar smile. When he was done, after he caught his breath, he got angry with himself. Put a fist through a wall and got in a good amount of trouble. But the other guys thought he did it because he wanted to show the sergeant how strong he was. They thought it was funny and kinda cool. Even later, as a pilot in Iraq, when he has a moment alone, he’s never thinking about a woman. His shell thickens more.

Then he’s out of the army and he’s becoming a firefighter and he thinks maybe this is when he can relax. So he goes and meets his captain, someone named Vincent Gerrard, and he can tell within thirty seconds of meeting him that this man is a carbon copy of his father. He hasn’t been the butt of a joke in a long time, and he sure as hell isn’t going to start back now, so he plays the game. And he plays it damn well.

These shells keep thickening and thickening until he’s not actually sure who he is anymore. He’s spent years being whoever he needs to be to survive and it’s becoming exhausting. Even when Gerrard leaves and Nash arrives, even when his smile actually starts to reach his eyes, he still feels wrong. So he makes a choice. He leaves.

He goes back to flying, which he loved in the army. The freedom of being in the sky was unlike anything else in life. He hears a coworker talk about therapy and he gives it a try. It’s uncomfortable and stressful but he goes back each week and yeah, okay, maybe it does help. He can feel his posture relaxing a bit at least.

He allows himself to be honest with himself. He looks in the mirror one night and takes a deep breath and says the words “I’m gay” for the first time and then he repeats it over and over and over again even as tears fall down his face.

All the shells are starting to crack.

He gets a call from Howie, who he would do anything for without question, and this particular ask gets him reacquainted with Hen, renewed friendship with Howie, a new friendship with Eddie, and a boyfriend with Evan.

Evan. Evan who meets Tommy at the door whenever he’s there, arms open and a smile on his face, ready to hold onto Tommy like it’s his job. There’s usually delicious food cooking that Tommy can smell from the driveway. Evan, who picks up Christopher or Jee and they head to the park or museum for an outing. Evan, who notices that Tommy really likes to draw so he joins a drawing club for the both of them and even though Evan himself is not great at drawing he’s always so excited for them to go together.

Evan, whose kisses linger on his body like a prayer. Whose touch burns his skin in the best way. Who gasps and grunts and grabs and whispers in his ear as their sweaty, muscular bodies practically meld into one. There’s laughter and smiles afterward, as they hold onto each other and fall asleep pressed against one another.

Evan, who makes loving easy to do. Who gives his whole heart and then some. Who breaks whatever was left of Tommy’s shell and makes him realize that the type of love he wanted all those years ago, even as a little kid, was real. It was possible. And he had it.

[howldean]

no spill blood

story by @howldean | art by @witchy-worm created for @deancashorrorfest

rated: explicit | warnings/tags: graphic depictions of violence, stanford era, creature!cas, case fic, dean is so sick of witches, identity porn, angst

summary: A witch hunt becomes far more than that when Dean rescues an unassuming, innocent, harmless stranger. But Castiel is more than he seems, and as the lines of their unlikely connection blur, so does the truth.

Revenge, plain and simple. Surviving to see it through, not so simple.

teaser: Dean had to figure out what to do with this Castiel guy. Sooner or later, he was going to start asking questions– honestly, he was surprised they hadn’t started already, the usual 'what the fuck's and 'what the hell was that's that tended to come with the job.

But he had questions of his own. He hadn’t seen an altar like that before. Nor had he seen that kind of bad mojo propped up on a shitty set-up, either. Maybe she was rushed, assuming the witch that caught him was working alone.

He doubted he was that lucky.

So what the hell kinds of plans did she have? Why go through the trouble of killing this many to begin with? Just what kind of vendetta did she have? And against who. Rifling through his journal and picking apart newspapers, he sought out whatever the hell he was missing. This was the kind of shit that should click, come to him clearly. Sam had a knack for it. Spotting the pattern.

Dean pushed the thought aside, and pushed the clippings off of his lap. That didn’t matter, he wasn’t here, and they hadn’t talked in– they weren’t talking. Dad knew he could get shit done on his own. That’s why he was on his own. So he just had to take care of this, focus. There was something here, a connection between them all, a reason they were targets. They went missing before they were found dead, that was worthwhile.

Glancing up, he hoped Castiel could be the key. He was still alive. Whatever the witch wanted him for, she hadn’t been done with him. Maybe he knew why.

this october, ask yourself: who makes the rules?

[moreespressoformydepresso]

@butfilsongs okay thought it over and here’s the fix-it :)!!

Since in this post I said that I think at least some of the peacekeepers that came to grab the tributes during the arena bombing came from outside, I had an idea for how all the tributes could escape from the city.

What if, instead of running for the exit, the district 1 and 2 kids saw the tunnels blasted open and went in there instead? Ginnee and Otto survived by sheer luck of the bombs going off a little earlier, and their mentors were saved by peacekeepers. This works because of a thing @idontliketomatoesleavemealone pointed out about them wearing armor which would protect them at least a little. They are out of it, though, because blows to the head suck. Ginnee and Otto, like Panlo and Sheaf, end up greatly injured and are denied medical care. Here’s where the fun begins (for me at least, if you like Hurt No Comfort this is not for you):

Thanks to the peacekeepers coming in from outside and the tunnels being so much closer than the exit, the four escapee tributes make it out. Sabyn, Velvereen, Facet, and Marcus are on the run. They could try to escape the city and forget all about this, but… those other kids don’t deserve to die, and leaving them to their fate feels… cruel. And also, escaping the city is exactly what the Capitol expects them to do so going along with it makes it more likely for them to be caught. So they get out of the tunnels and figure out where the zoo is. Marcus clearly didn’t disguise himself, but now there are three other kids there to come up with ideas. Facet and Velvereen suggest they try to look more like Capitol kids so it’s more likely people won’t look at them twice. While they’re at it they snag some supplies for short-term disguises and then wait until it’s late to go over to the zoo.

Now, these kids may not have the best mentors (cough cough Livia Cardew cough cough) but they can see some of the others starting to care about their tributes. And these influential nepo-babies are the future of Panem. The four free tributes have had time to think things through, and the last thing they wanna do is hand the Capitol propaganda on a silver platter and turn their only hope of ending the games for good against them. In terms of trying to convince their overlords the tributes are human beings too, killing peacekeepers means they may as well confess to cannibalism and skinning puppies for fun. Also, it would be justification for the Capitol calling this an all hands on deck situation and throw everything into finding the tributes, which is the last thing they need. So the four escapees refrain from brutal murder and instead merely knock out the ones too close to the enclosure for comfort. They take some of the guns, though, because they’re not stupid enough to actually believe their attempts at showing innocence will do anything and they’d rather be armed if it comes down to the worst-case scenario.

Next they break open the zoo enclosure and wake up their fellow district kids inside. Some frantic whispering later and everyone’s awake and ready to leave. The four injured kids and Dill get carried on the backs of the stronger kids for obvious reasons, and off they go. I’ll stop here and consider collecting my ideas for the rest of their shenanigans in this City of Nightmares in a separate post because I have plans.

Yes, it does involve arson. No, Gaul’s lab does not survive. Possibly, neither does she.

That last bit is not entirely on the tributes.

[spider-stark]

INFINITELY YOU

part two // crullers & constants

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 4.2k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker

Peter Pan Donuts is a sacred place. 

Or, rather, it was a sacred place—and walking back into the shop now felt awfully strange. 

Back when you and Peter first started high school, it had become a tradition to end every Friday with one of the renowned pastry shop’s legendary frosted crullers. You considered it a well-deserved reward for surviving another week of more drama than either of you could stomach, thankful that the weekend was finally upon you and that you could finally breathe without inhaling the reek of the unwashed teenage boys that lined the halls of Midtown. 

Peter Pan’s quickly became a haven. A safe place where the two of you could tuck yourselves away at the end of the bar, talking for hours about the teachers you hated and the bullies you hoped would fall from the face of the Earth. There was nothing that you couldn’t talk about, no secrets kept between you and Peter. 

Or, at least, none that mattered. 

But things changed as time passed, as they so often do. 

It started with the inclusion of Ned. You didn’t particularly mind his presence, even if the conversations had begun to shift towards less intimate topics, focusing instead on movies that you all wanted to see or upcoming video games that you would all try to play. 

Then came the inclusion of Mj a few months later, after she landed a job at the shop. That was when everything truly changed—when it was no longer you and Peter tucked away at the bar, but you and Ned, left to pick at your food and watch as Peter leaned across the front counter and talked to Mj over her shift. 

After a few months of testing every donut on the menu with Ned, you stopped going altogether. 

And Peter never even asked why. 

“I was surprised to see you texted me,” you quip as you slid onto the free barstool, “what happened to not wanting me to get involved?” 

Peter exhales sharply through his nose, and even though his eyes are glued to his phone, you can tell that he was already regretting asking you to meet him here. “I already told you that what I want doesn’t matter.” 

And how true that must have been. 

There had been nothing kind about his text to you this morning, although there was nothing inherently rude about it either, you supposed. It was simple—meet me at Peter Pan’s asap, need 2 talk—but you could almost sense the begrudging nature with which he had typed it. And, sitting next to him now, you could almost feel it, too. 

He didn’t want you here, even if he had been the one to invite you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he had decided to involve you at all—especially so soon. What had changed in a single night? 

Sitting on the barstool to your left, Parker pops his lips. “Well this is fun. I’m not at all uncomfortable right now.” 

You turned towards him, acknowledging just how different he looked in the civilian clothes that he donned in place of his suit—black jeans that certainly looked worse for wear and an old Ramone’s t-shirt that you immediately recognized as yours. Oversized on you, the short sleeves clung rather tightly to his well-muscled arms. Did he seriously go through your stuff?! 

 “Why are you even here?” You ask, perhaps a little sharper than necessary. You weren’t angry that he had gone sifting through the armoire in the spare bedroom, especially since he couldn’t just parade around as Spider-Man all of the time. But he could’ve at least asked. “Shouldn’t one of you be busy patrolling?” 

It was hard to tell if the offense on his face was real or feigned, but you didn’t care much either way. “Peter wanted answers about my world, I wanted food,” he shrugs, gesturing at the crème-filled donut in front of him. “And Peter 2’s handling patrol.” 

Peter 2—you had almost forgotten about him, the version of Peter that hadn’t wanted to come with Ned and Mj to your apartment last night. As far as you could tell when you woke up this morning, he hadn’t shown up in the middle of the night, either—no trace of Parker or anyone else when you had finally stumbled out of your room to get ready after reading the text from Peter. 

You didn’t figure it was really your business where the mystery Peter was, but you were a little surprised to hear that he was still out patrolling. Was he not exhausted?  

“Ametaur move getting crème-filled,” you tell him, ignoring everything he said. “Should’ve gone with the frosted vanilla cruller, it’s way better.” 

“No way,” he gapes, grabbing the half-eaten pastry and shaking it for emphasis as he said, “this is god-tier, alright? No way anything’s topping it.” 

The expression on his face was actually hilarious, his brown doe eyes alight with pure euphoria as he took another bite of the donut. An exaggerated moan slipped his lips, coated with bits of sugar and crème. It was hard not to laugh at him, especially when you knew that was probably his goal—to combat the evident tension between you and Peter. 

Chuckling, you lift your hands in mock defense. “Suit yourself, Parker. But if you ever wanna experience true pleasure, then you know what to order.” 

Parker looks as if he's about to continue his borderline-lustful tangent about the donut, but Peter spoke up instead, his attention snagging on the name you used. 

“Parker?” He echoes in disbelief, letting his phone clatter against the bar. 

Peter’s sudden resurgence to the real world left Parker silent, sinking back against his stool and taking another bite. 

“What?” Your brow arches, your voice laced with incredulity. “Did you really think I’d keep calling him Peter 2? No offense to Ned, but everything about that feels stupid.” 

Peter’s eyes narrow, coupled with a subtle shake of his head that indicates he doesn't care nearly enough to have this conversation right now. 

You didn’t care much either, and so you steered the conversation in a more productive direction. “So what is this grand plan of yours?” You ask with a somewhat sarcastic lilt. “And where do I fit into it?” 

Another huff of breath escaped his nostrils. “We don’t even have a plan. Not yet,” he reluctantly admits. “But I tried talking to Doctor Strange last night, to see if he had some sort of magical spell or something that would let us go back and fix all of this.” 

Your lips press together, nibbling on the skin and pretending you didn’t notice the hidden meaning behind his words. He hadn’t just gone to Doctor Strange to find a way to get rid of the villains now lurking in your world, because if he had, then he wouldn’t have gone specifically seeking out a spell that would let him go back—not just to stop the villains from ever coming here, but to save May, too. 

“Did he?” 

Peter reached for his cup of iced coffee, if only to occupy his now-fidgeting fingers. “No,” he murmurs, the sound of sloshing ice nearly overpowering him as he swirled the cup. “He didn’t.” 

You frown at the tinge of disappointment that snuck through his otherwise even tone, your chest aching. You had to fight against the urge to say I’m sorry, remembering what he had said to you last night—he didn’t want your apologies, nor did he seem to want anyone else's. 

In truth, you weren’t sure what Peter wanted; or what you could do to help him. 

“Well did he have anything useful?” 

He shook his head, lifting the cup to his mouth. “Define useful,” he scoffed, sounding uncharacteristically sharp. He took a sip of his drink, his nose scrunching as soon as the coffee hit his tongue—too bitter. 

Despite the coffee’s pale color that indicated it was more cream than coffee, you weren’t surprised that it was still too strong for him. Peter had never truly developed a taste for coffee, only pursuing a caffeine addiction for the sake of combating the exhaustion that came with being Spider-Man. That didn’t mean he had ever grown to like it though, masking the taste with copious amounts of sugar and syrups. 

“Something that will keep multiversal villains from tearing our world apart?” You venture half-heartedly, guided by pure instinct and muscle memory as you reached over to take his cup from him, snagging a few packs of sugar from the plastic canister on the bar to0. 

“He has a theory,” Peter gives you a tight-lipped smile, born of pure frustration. 

“A theory? And he expects us to save the world with this theory?” You ask, a bit more derisive than you would have been if Doctor Strange were around to hear. 

Peter scoots closer to you, his voice purposefully low. “Do you remember when I told you about him using the Time Stone before Mr. Stark died? To look through all the different outcomes with Thanos?” 

Ripping open the sugar packets and dumping them in his cup, you managed to mask a wince at the mention of Peter’s dead mentor. You only nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you tried for any sort of verbal affirmation. 

“Well… when he did that, he thinks that he might have actually seen through the multiverse—he just didn’t know for sure at the time.” 

Your forehead creased as you popped the lid back onto his cup, sliding it back towards him. Given his advantage of Spidey-sense, he easily caught it before it could slide too far and end up on the floor—which is what would have definitely happened pre-Spider bite. 

“And you don’t consider that to be useful to our current situation?” 

“No. I don’t.” Peter answers firmly. “Because at the center of it all—in every universe the Stone showed him—all he saw was you.” 

You nearly laugh, your lips curving as you rose a brow at him. “Me?” 

Peter gave a nod as he took another sip of his drink. This time, his nose didn’t scrunch. 

“But it’s been almost a year since the Avengers took down Thanos,” you reminded him, your stunned amusement beginning to fade into confusion. “If he saw.. Me, when he used the Stone, then why didn’t he say anything until now?” 

By no means would you consider yourself to be close with New York’s resident Sorcerer, and so you wouldn’t have expected him to come to you with this knowledge. But Peter—he knew Peter, and he knew that you were Peter’s best friend, and so it didn’t make any sense to you why Doctor Strange chose to wait until now to mention what the Stone had shown him. 

Given the aggravated expression Peter wore, it was clear that he was thinking the same. “I don’t know, and trying to get answers out of Doctor Strange that he clearly doesn’t want to give is like pulling teeth.” 

“But what does that mean?” You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing further, concern starting to bubble up inside of you. Regardless of his answer—if he had one—you had a feeling you wouldn’t like it. “I don’t get how I’m at the center of every universe.” 

Peter blew out a breath, his fingers going back to tapping against the sides of his plastic cup. “Alright, so there are probably well-over a hundred thousand different parallel universes, okay? Some of them are probably super similar to ours, and then there are others that are the complete opposite.” 

“O-kay,” you drone, your brows drawing together. You felt the start of a headache coming on as you prepared yourself for the confusing science-talk that was surely about to start pouring out of his mouth. 

Perhaps noticing your pained expression, Peter tries to find a way to simplify whatever explanation he was about to use. “Try and look at it like this,” he started, “think of the multiverse as some giant, cosmic loom, alright? Now imagine that each thread on the loom signifies a person. As the loom weaves all of these different threads together, different decisions get made and different actions are taken—and with every choice, a new thread is spun, branching off and creating a variation of the original tapestry.” 

“So it’s like you and Parker, right?” You interrupt him, rubbing at your temples. “Same thread, different reality?” 

“Exactly! And, technically speaking, that’s how it’s supposed to be. As the loom weaves and alters reality, each thread continuously evolves into something different.” He paused, his fingers finally falling still. “But now imagine that—in the center of all of these branching tapestries—there exists one thread, entirely unbroken and unaltered by this ever-weaving tapestry of existence, okay? A glitch in the cosmic fabric, a constant that’s woven into infinite realities and yet, somehow, remains fundamentally unchanged. How does that work?” 

You couldn’t ignore the sense of dread creeping up your spine, nor could you escape the slight wobble in your voice as you said, “It doesn’t sound like it should.” 

“You’re right, it shouldn’t work.” Peter confirmed, his expression nearly impossible to read. “But according to Doctor Strange, you are that thread. A constant anomaly that defies every potential law of the multiverse.” 

Nausea bubbled in your gut. God, you did not want to deal with this right now! 

“And let me guess,” a bitter laugh follows your words, “that’s as much information as he was willing to give, wasn’t it?” 

“Yep,” Peter pops his lips, leaning back into his stool. His brows raise slightly in a silent I told you so before he says, “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to be involved, right? Now you’re at the center of everything-” 

“I said I wanted to help you,” you correct him sharply. “Not that I wanted to be at the center of Doctor Strange’s weird Time Stones fantasies!” 

He only shrugs, barely acknowledging the dirty look you gave him as he plucks his phone off of the counter, clicking on a notification. “Same thing, isn’t it? Either way, you get what you want.” 

“What I want?” You echoed, your mouth hung open in disbelief. 

“Doctor Strange seems to think that whatever is wrong with you might help us solve all of this. That you might be connected to the multiverse somehow, or that you’re at least immune to it. So yeah, you get what you want. You get to help,” he spat the word out like an insult, too focused on typing something to even notice how rude he sounded. 

If it weren’t for the feeling that stomach acid was about to come crawling up your throat, then you might have taken some time to unpack the bitterness in his tone or be hurt by the claim that something was wrong with you—but you didn’t. Even if you had, you weren’t sure that it would have gotten you anywhere. 

You weren’t stupid. Peter was wielding his insolence like a shield, purposefully trying to hurt you as an effort to keep you at arms length—and, if you had to guess, Mj and Ned were probably receiving the same treatment right now. 

“Well this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to help,” you admitted, one hand going to rest against your cramping stomach. At least the throbbing in your temples had died down… 

Peter only shrugged at you, shoving his phone in his back pocket and rising to his feet. “Too bad,” he told you, offering a smile that most definitely wasn’t genuine. “I’ve gotta go, but make him walk you home, alright? I’ll text you if I hear anything else from Doctor Strange.” 

Parker frowned beside you, and whether it was because Peter was speaking about him like he wasn’t here or because of his attitude in general, you couldn’t tell. 

“Whoa, hold up! You didn’t even tell me what your plan is until you hear from him!” You argue, reaching for his wrist to keep him from walking past you until he answered. 

He pulls his hand back from your grip, but not before your stare snags on the reddish hue that stains his nails—blood. Noticing it only served to make you feel sicker, and to make your concern for Peter grow larger. Was he really still walking around with May’s blood caked under his nails? Has he rested at all since last night? 

“Same plan as always,” he told you, your eyes snapping up to meet his, suddenly noticing how rimmed with exhaustion they were. “Stop the bad guys.” 

He didn’t leave any time for protests or further questions before turning his back to you and heading straight for the exit. When the little bell on the door chimed as he shoved his way back out onto the streets, you couldn’t stop the worried sigh that escaped your lips. 

Peter was an Avenger by every right. He had battled alongside a Norse God and helped take down a literal Titan, and so knew that you shouldn’t have any reason to doubt his capability when it came to taking down whatever villains had crossed into your world. 

But it wasn’t that you doubted his ability to survive against them, or even his ability to stop them—you were worried about whether he could handle the weight of it all. 

The weight of him placing yet another thing on his shoulders. Another villain, another fight, another burden, another chance to lose someone. 

Thinking of that, it suddenly dawned on you that maybe Mj and Ned weren’t getting the same treatment as you. Maybe you were getting the worst of it, if only because now whatever connection you had to the multiverse was just another weight he thought he had to bear, another person he had to worry about protecting. 

Guilt flooded your veins, and even as you tried to remind yourself that you hadn’t caused this, you still couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that it was somehow your fault anyway. 

“Y’know, I get that this probably isn’t the right time for this,” Parker starts. When you look at him, your attention immediately snags on the dozen donuts that he had ordered while you were talking to Peter. “But I think it’s so cool that you guys have magic in your world!” 

He takes another bite of the donut in his hand, powdered sugar falling from his lips as he says, “And these donuts! It’s a tough call, but they might be even better than magic!” 

You didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell if he was intentionally trying to lighten the mood or if it was just incidental, but it worked all the same. Laughter poured from your mouth, and it wasn’t until it died down that he said anything else. 

“Sooo… That was tense, wasn’t it? Like, it wasn’t just me, right?” 

You groan, propping your elbows against the counter and placing your cheeks in your palms. “Was it that noticeable?” 

Parker snorts a laugh, stretching an arm past you to reach for Peter’s abandoned coffee. “Oh, yeah. It’s actually painful to be in a room with you two.” 

His playful tone made it clear that it was just a joke, but it still made you feel bad. You already didn’t like how hostile things felt between you and Peter, even if it was only one-sided, and to know that others felt it too just made it that much worse. 

“Things are just.. Difficult, right now.” You tell him, choosing your words carefully. 

“So it hasn’t always been like that with you guys?” He asks, and the delicate arch of his brow made it seem as though he were shocked by the possibility that things had ever been civil between you and Peter. 

There was a chance that you had misread his expression though, as it was very quickly wiped away once he took a sip of Peter’s half-drank coffee, gagging as soon as it hit his tongue. “Holy shi-” he started coughing, cutting off the vulgarities that threatened to spill out. “How does he drink this?!” Parker yelped as soon as he could take a full breath, looking utterly disgusted as he shoved the cup back across the bar. “It’s literally just liquid sugar!” 

You found it hard to stifle your amusement at his suffering, even as he shot you a teasing scowl for it. “No,” you answer his previous question, trying to ignore his melodramatic display, “believe it or not, things between us actually used to be really… I don’t know—easy, I guess.” 

Parker was still smacking his lips to try and rid himself of the cloying aftertaste. “What changed?” 

In retrospect, you realized that it probably would have been smarter for you to bite your tongue. To offer him some cheap, cop-out excuse rather than tell him the truth. After all, you already had experience in hiding from the truth and it wasn’t like you really knew Parker, and so lying to him shouldn’t have been a hard task. 

Yet, for some reason, you told him the truth anyway. 

“Mj happened.” 

Parker’s brows furrows. “The girl from last night, right?” 

“Yep. That’s the one.” 

“Y’know, I don’t really like her all that much,” his words were spoken like a balm, seeking to ease the dejected look etched upon your face, but tinged with enough playful sarcasm for you to know he didn’t actually mean them. “She threw a bread roll at me. A few of them, actually.” 

It was hard not to laugh at the thought considering that it was such an Mj thing to do. “Sounds about right,” you crack a smile, although you don't feel particularly happy. “She’s always been slow to trust, especially complete strangers.” 

In an odd sort of way, the statement felt like a lie. Not because it actually wasn’t true—because Mj was wary of strangers—but because Parker didn’t quite feel like a stranger in your mind. While last night had been a bit awkward, you now felt like talking to him was effortless, each sentence rolling off your tongue with unnatural ease. 

“But she trusts you?” Parker asks, picking a crumb off another one of the pastries and popping it into his mouth. 

You sucked in a breath. 

“I don’t know,” you answer him, with a bit more honesty than you're comfortable with. “I mean, I know that she used to trust me. But now… I’m not even sure if she likes me anymore.” 

His brow snapped up. “What changed?” 

Suddenly the truth no longer felt so easy, and you found yourself wishing that you could change the subject altogether. You didn’t want to talk about this—especially not with him, some boy that you had known for less than twenty-four hours. 

But you had backed yourself into a corner, and so in an effort to try and satiate whatever interest he had developed in the story you had told, you settled on offering a vague half-truth. 

“She started dating Peter,” you tell him simply, putting effort into looking disinterested. “They got together a few months ago and things just… It just got weird, y’know? It’s always awkward when two of your friends get together, I guess. Creates too much drama.” 

“Yeah, for sure,” Parker hums, agreeing with you. “Especially when you have feelings for him, right?” 

An incomprehensible noise escaped your throat, best categorized as something between a laugh and a cough. Your mouth fell open to try and defend yourself, to try and deny his claim—but he didn’t even give you a chance. 

“Oh c’mon!” Parker groans, grinning when he notices the now rosy complexion of your cheeks. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I mean, let’s be real here, alright? That whole sugar thing earlier?” He jutted a finger towards Peter’s abandoned iced coffee, “Was a dead giveaway.” 

“You’re insane,” You declare, shaking your head and masking your embarrassment with uncomfortable laughter. “I don’t have feelings for Peter—and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter! Regardless of what it’s done to our friendship, Mj is literally perfect for him and-” 

“I think it’s cute,” he interrupts, a delicate smile gracing his lips. Noticing the way your brows furrow, he elaborated, “How much you care about him. And how much you care about her, too, since you’re so willing to pretend like you don’t like him.” 

“I’m not pretending-” 

Parker jokingly cut his eyes. “Yeah, sureee.” 

Blowing a frustrated breath, you push yourself up from the barstool. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.” You tell him, far too flustered to try and come up with a good defense to his teasing. “You can take the rest of your donuts to go, Bug-boy.” 

There was a subtle shift in his demeanor as the taunting nickname fell from your lips, and he almost felt as though his heart had stopped dead in his chest. 

“Fine,” Parker yields, rising to his feet and snagging the box of donuts from the bar. “But I really hope that you have your wallet—cause I definitely don’t have a way to pay for these.” He flashed a crooked smile before continuing, “Or we can just run really fast and hope they don’t call the police on us for stealing pastries.” 

“I can’t imagine that robbery would be very good for your reputation as a hero,” you chide sarcastically, your own lips curling into a half-smile, “so I’ll pay—but only if you give me every cruller in that box. Deal?” 

Parker spares a quick glance down at the dozen box of donuts in his hands. Half of them were already gone, but through the small cellophane window he could see that there were three frosted crullers left. “Deal.”

series masterlist

a/n - for those who read IY before the rewrite, you may already be able to note some rather major changes going on lmao. i genuinely can't describe how much i actually enjoy rewriting this story, as i'm finally able to collect my thoughts enough to write the plot the way i originally wanted to.

as always, please leave any feedback, opinions, etc.! any and all comments/reblogs definitely encourage me to write/edit faster! and, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

part three, titled "spitfire", to be released april 15th

[callmerainman]

Alastor with a pure hearted s/o

a/n I'm fully aware that Alastor is aroace. My scenarios are meant to be interpreted as a deep, unconditional love, not necessarily romantic. I'm not aroace but I'm all for educating myself, so please if something's off let me (gently) know. Hope you enjoy :)

TW! canon typical violence

being a twisted person is not a requirement to reincarnate in Hell. Sins depend on religion, culture, societal norms. You were more of a victim, in fact.

you never got used to being in Hell. Surviving not only the Extermination but also the inhabitants becomes harder and harder every year.

it's kill or be killed, but you just can't bring yourself to do any harm to anyone, even if it means risking your own life.

as soon as you hear about princess Charlie Morningstar's new hotel for souls who want a second chance, your bags are PACKED

it's not like you really need redemption, you are pure hearted already. it's more a matter of understanding the reasons why you ended in Hell and coming to terms with them. maybe then the gates of Heaven would open for you. it's also a safer place for you to be.

Charlie welcomes you excitedly; Angel Dust, Husk and Vaggie aren't that friendly at first since your personalities don't match, but they eventually grow fond of you

and then there's, well...the Radio Demon.

you never met an Overlord before, and Alastor was supposed to be gone for years. But his presence wasn't frightening. A big smile spread across his face, he welcomed you like a gentleman.

you heard stories about his lifestyle and even previous murderous acts as a human, but for some reason you just can't bring yourself to fear him.

at first you were kinda pathetic to him. so naive, out of touch with the evils of Hell. he didn't dislike you. just thought your life was so easy to throw away in a society like that and that you wouldn't last long.

it seems like you two don't have much to share. he just wanders in his den, while you spend time in your room. you greet each other and have small talks, but nothing more than that. that's until he hears jazz music play behind your door.

he mentions it during dinner, and you start talking about your interest in 30s jazz music, especially the one of the Roaring 20s. you come from a later era, but you're very much cultured about jazz and its forms and that's enough for Alastor to develop an interest in you.

he has so many jazz artists recommendations, and you share some of your favourite pieces with him through your gramophone.

without even noticing, Alastor starts spending hours in your room just listening to music. some time even practicing swing dancing. and talking about jazz culture all around the world, and entertainment in general. he has many fun facts about the history of radio too!

the others at the hotel notice your growing bond and low-key support it, in their own, weird way. Angel Dust is especially convinced that you two are hooking up, as Husk not-so-kindly explains that it's more likely for Alastor to ascend to Heaven than express interest in sex.

you would start to open yourself up a bit to the Radio Demon. he doesn't understand why, since it didn't ask or never showed much empathy. but he just can't bring himself to tell you to stop. he wants to listen.

you manage to make him talk about some glimpses of his own life and thoughts. you knew that he was the complete opposite of you. incline to Evil, an enjoyer of all things that made your stomach clench. but he's still the one person who spends hours with you just listening to both jazz and your fears.

one day, Alastor decided that in no way you are walking around the city without him. it's just too dangerous for you. he tries to teach you how to use weapons and demonic powers to defend yourself but he doesn't feel like you can make it into Hell by yourself.

you like strolling through the streets with him, arms intertwined, chatting and laughing even if demons around you are shitting their pants just by seeing the Overlord walking around.

but one day, Alastor can't find you.

you're not in your room, or in the Hotel hall. No one saw you that morning. He starts to feel something he never felt in his life: fear.

he darts out the Hotel, trying to find you. that's when he sees you just a few streets away.

a group of animal-like demons is encircling you. you are on your knees, arms over your head to protect yourself. A lion-demon is holding a knife over you and your arms are covered in cuts. you hold something close to your stomach.

that's when Alastor realized that he had feelings for you.

when he threw himself between you and the demons attacking you.

it's the first time you see Alastor without a smile. his teeth are gritted, face full of unprecedented violence and will to kill, breathing heavily in and out in a sort of animalistic way, but there's no trace of his characteristic smile you love.

his body starts to morph into his full demon form. his horns grow exponentially, his body too as it hovers menacingly on top of your aggressors as they start to feel a pure fear they never felt before.

in a matter of a second, they are gone. Alastor has always been a calculated, elegant killer, but this time he only felt a raw, ferocious instinct to kill.

as he's done, he turns around towards you. he doesn't want to, but he snaps.

"W̶̞̐H̷̻͒Y̷̰̅ ̶̠͛D̸͕́I̸͔̍D̴̿͜ ̷̯̇Y̶̭͌Ỏ̴̬U̵̖̍ ̷̛͎Ģ̷̕O̸̩͑ ̷̹̈́O̶̮͆U̸͍̇T̴̙͆ ̷̧̀W̴͓̅I̷̞͑T̸̗͒H̴̹͒O̴̺̓Ṷ̵̂T̵̺̚ ̵̢́M̴̜̅E̶̬̋?̸̻͋!̸̦͂"

you flinch, you never saw Alastor lose his composure. he was always so calm and collected. his voice was static, choppy.

the tears that were cornering your eyes start streaming down your face "I-I..."

"Ţ̶̈Ḧ̴͙́Ė̵̩Ỳ̷̳ ̷̳̒Ã̸̡L̷̛͚M̶͇̚O̸͈̔S̴̜̎T̸͚̊ ̷̤͝K̷͊͜I̵̺͝L̵͚̎L̴̤̆Ẽ̴͖D̶͍̈́ ̵̻͝Y̵̰̑O̸̜͘Ù̶͍!̵̻͝ ̸͓̾D̴̯͒O̶̅͜Ṉ̶̌'̷̹͒T̵͎͋ ̶̺́Y̴̹͂O̶͍̅U̴̘͌ ̵̘̾Û̷̪N̸̩̊D̵͎̋Ȅ̴͜R̵̮͂S̸̰̄T̸̝̅A̵͓͘N̷̩͂Ḏ̴̀?̵̗̍!̸̭̎"

suddenly, your bleeding arms fall from your head. you expose what you've been protecting all along.

a vinyl, a really old record from Alastor's favourite jazz artist. a rare find.

"I-I know but...tomorrow it's your death anniversary and I wanted to give this to you...as a surprise. I'm sorry"

Alastor's face immediately softens. Eyebrows raised, smile still not seen. He's just surprised and...moved.

He doesn't say anything, he just picks you up in his arms and takes you back to the Hotel where he bandages your arms.

Feeling guilty for putting yourself in danger, you ask Alastor to come to your room in order to apologize to him.

As he closes the door behind him, he says that there's no need to apologize.

"I'm...glad that you are still in your room. Listening to jazz, alive"

words didn't come easy, but he did feel the need to say it. you smile at him.

you propose to put his gift on the gramophone and so you do. music starts to flow between the small space you shared with the Radio Demon.

that's when you and Alastor start slow dancing. his arms around your waist, yours encircling his neck. his smile is back, but soft and...almost loving.

with his silent agreement, you reach for his cheek and graze it.

"Thank you for saving me, Alastor. Even if you are everything I distance myself from in this life...I'm glad you are the person that you are with me. In my next life, I'll make sure to be a sinner again if it means dancing with you like this"

Alastor now understands his feelings. It's something deeper than care. It's love. But not the same love you reserve to a friend and not even romantic. It's something deeper, more visceral.

He doesn't answer, just closes his eyes and leans in to press his forehead against yours.

you later fall asleep on your bed to the quiet sound of the gramophone playing, hands intertwined on Alastor's chest.

[poetry-protest-pornography]

Century of Love is bananas, but like, imagine it all from Vee's perspective.

You're literally just some guy, working to pay your grandma's hospital fees. One day, you fall off a ladder into the arms of a beautiful man, who immediately hates you for no reason.

You run into him again, he's cold and dismissive and then you get literally tied to each other with red thread, which he angrily throws in your face and then runs away.

He comes to your place of work, which he has no way of knowing, and demands his ring back -- which he accidentally included in the angry thread throwing incident -- and is pissed you don't have it on you. When you bring him home to give it to him, he's pissy and keeps staring at you weird.

He shows up again, drags you to an abandoned theater, gets mad that you don't remember something, and then extra mad when you tell him his story of becoming immortal to wait for a lover to reincarnate is unrealistic, because people change. Then, when you are attacked by a knife wielding criminal, he accuses you of being a criminal who deserves the attack and abandons you in the theater.

When you go to check on him, he accuses you of helping thieves, and then of being a scammer and low-key a whore.

The next time you see him, you fall on top of him while he's naked and he gets mad at you for it.

Two days later, he shows up at your house, needs to be told to apologize to you, is nice to you for the first time, proposes to you, calls you an ugly, rude, classless loser, and then wraps up the insult train with "Anyways, marry me". When you point out that he's just called you a bunch of names, he offers to pay you off (knowing full well that he's called you a ho, and that you're caring for a sick grandma).

AND THEN YOU SAY YES.

At the wedding ceremony, he literally won't even look at you, and leaves immediately after.

You're attacked again and when he saves you, you see him get shot and stabbed multiple times, and survive while his wounds heal in front of you, and then told he's in his hundreds and ate a magic rock.

And somehow, you still want to smooch him.

Absolutely bananas.

[ourg0dsal]

Gideon Nav CANNOT Die. Hold on- I know... but give me one second and I'll explain.

So, as I said before Gideon Nav cannot die, or at least her body can't. Cause clearly (spoiler warning) Gideon Nav died at the end of Gideon the Ninth. There is no avoiding that.

But! If you have read all the books GtN, HtN, and NtN including all of the accompanying short stories (tho I will admit I have not read The Mysterious Study of Dr. Sex yet) then there is a better understanding of the timeline of the whole story outside of just what the three main books give you. Specifically and especially with Gideon's body. But also there are many times In Gideons life were she has faced near death events or events that she should not have survived from and still was breathing on the other side.

To go in chronological order of these events, when she was first born she was found in a container held by the air depraved suit of her mother. And while ofc In the book it does state that her mother had redirected her air supply to Gideon, but it is simply being stated to cover all my bases.

Then the 200 sons and daughters massacre when Gideon was 1 (or 2 im not sure) when she inhaled poisonous air without dying. Which led ofc to the Reverend Mother and Father fearing the ground she walked. And this is a big one because, it literally creates waves in the plot. It's a defining point of Harrow and Gideons relationship. That Gideon did not die when she was supposed to.

Later in the story Gideon talks with Pal when she believes Harrow to be a murderer and openly admits to him that "she nearly killed me a half dozen times growing up" which obviously in context was to emphasize on the brutal relationship between her and Harrow. But this could also be other times where miraculously Gideon survived death when she shouldn't have. Because as we know from the first confrontation between Harrow and Gideon. Harrow doesnt hold back for her.

Finally of all the events where Gideon escapes death, this one actually happens within the main story of Gideon the Ninth. When Harrow siphons from Gideon to retrieve one of the challenge keys. And at the end when Gideon passes out, it is narrated ""ha-ha," said Gideon, "first time you didn't call me Griddle," AND DIED." Now, this could obviously just be the snarkiness of Gideon narrating. Or something incredibly clever left behind by Tamsyn Muir for a book series that is so clearly meant to be reread. But ofc to do my rounds the next line after does state "well, passed out. But it felt a hell of a lot like dying." But then immediately after "wake up had an air of ressurection." Which honestly feels like Tamysn Muir teasing the readers at this point. The question then becomes rather, which one was the tease and which one was foreshadowing/ evidence.

Now the point of listing all of these events is that in all of these cases the chances of death are so incredibly high that for most its a miracle she's alive. Ofc most notably for the siphoning trial and the poision gas, but none the less there is proof within the written story and and out that Gideon has looked death in face and moved on with maybe a headache. And it wasn't just in her child hood this is something she can just do. Some recreated in the written story! Because as Pal said. Even with the siphoning challenge done perfectly the chances of leaving Cam with severe brain damage was far to high. And Gideon didn't even suffer that.

Sadly, despite all these Gideon gets to the final battle and fights Cytherea and does die. At the hands of a particularly pointy fence. Or was it truly the fence that did her in? Rather than the lyctorship ritual that was started seconds afterwards.

My full theory, isnt just that Gideon Nav can't die. It's that Gideon Nav wouldn't have been able to die... If Harrow hadn't sucked her soul out. There are at the very least 8 seperate events that Gideon should have died, two of which were nearly gauranteed, but she was ended by a piece of metal. Yes, a very well placed piece a metal, but the point still up to that point she had faced worse a came out unscathed.

If Harrow had not completed the lyctor ritual, Gideon would not have died. Wether or not through resurrection or simply walking it off. Gideon's body has some sort of necromantic attributes to it that keep her alive. We see this in the Untitled Entry short story with Judith Deuteros that describes Gideons body, as it does not rot, cannot be injured, cannot be fed to animals forced or otherwise. And that is all before Jod ever gets a look at the body, because otherwise he would have known Gideon was his daughter before the later events of Harrow the Ninth.

And ofc during the first challenge when Harrow uses Gideon as her eyes to be able to see the construct in the other room and Gideon is able to see the thanergetic signatures that Harrow remarks should be impossible. (I assume because the process is Harrow extracting information (Gideons eyesight) from Gideon and so Gideon should not also be receiving information (the ability to see the signatures)) unless Gideon had some form of necromantic abilities, which she was tested for as a kid and apparently did not have. Alongside not having the correct attitude to be a nun of the ninth. And so we can round it out to be her body being naturally necromantic leaving Gideon without the ability to use it. (Which Is a jump from the actual point we are attempting to use, but for now this stops us from assuming Gideon as any sort of necromantic ability which is a theory all on its own. One that I personally have no evidence for or against)

Now, that I have hopefully made both my Ap Lit and Lang teachers proud with my 3 am essay, I must give you the real tragedy of Gideon the Ninth. Had Gideon not died, had Harrow been unable to complete the lyctor ritual for emotional reasons or otherwise, had Harrow not become a lyctor and killed cytherea. Gideon would have had to watch Harrow and Cam be killed, possibly even Corona, Judith and Ianthe. And then to be used for Cythereas own motives. Tamysn Muir beautifully set up the story so that the best possible outcome could have happened. Had Gideon not died. Everyone else would have. And "Camilla the sixth was no idiot" cam knew and accepted this whereas Harrow never would have. And so the unkillable Gideon had to die, and forcing Harrows hand was the only way to do it.

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐏𝐭. 𝟏

It was meant to be just a movie night, a chance to catch up with your best friend after a long week, but Bucky had other ideas. The two of you had danced around the obvious for far too long, and he was going to take matters into his own hands.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ♆ Pornstar!Bucky Barnes x Innocent!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ♆ 3.9k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ♆ Fluff, angst / insecurity ჻჻჻ TROPES: Best friends to lovers ჻჻჻ SMUT: Fingering (F receiving) ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, daddy, virginity

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ♆ Please, someone take away my keyboards. I barely survived this.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ♆ I Want It by Two Feet ♆ Like U by Rosenfeld

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 ♆ @smutconnoisseur

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ♆ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟮 — Pornstar AU — Masterlist

𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Movie night with Bucky was a routine that the both of you had maintained for god knows how long. Every Friday night, you would travel to Bucky’s home, or he would come to your apartment, and you would binge either a season or two of your shared favourite shows or a movie trilogy. 

Only, it had become hard the past few months. 

Bucky was your best friend, and you knew of his occupation. And, sure, you were curious as all hell to learn more – but it didn’t help the fact you had a raging crush on the ridiculously beautiful six foot plus pornstar. 

It was an effort to keep the curiosity and feelings under lock and key – having been very successful at it, if you said so yourself. Tonight would be no different. Bucky would arrive at your door at any moment, take out in hand, and his handsome smile and irresistible charm-

No, stop it, you scolded yourself, taking a deep breath. “Chill, girl,” you muttered, gathering the final blanket from your closet for the blanket den in the living room. The butterflies in your stomach slowed a notch, and your muscles relaxed. 

As if you had summoned the devil himself, three solid knocks on your front door announced Bucky’s arrival. “Come in!” you called, walking quickly into the living room to deposit the blanket. “I’m in the living room, Buck.”

The door swung open, and footfalls sounded in the entryway. “Hey, doll,” Bucky greeted loudly, the rustling of plastic bags and fabric as he took off his shoes followed his call. “Sorry I’m late; the shoot ran later than I had hoped.”

“You’re good,” you soothed, that same fire sparking at the mention of his work. “How are you?”

“Just fine,” Bucky said, right behind you. You jumped and spun round to find him grinning happily. “How ‘bout you? Ready for tonight?”

The sight of him rendered you speechless for a second – his broad shoulders and chest were covered in a black Henley and leather jacket, and his thighs were clothed in tight black jeans that were stylistically faded. Normally, Bucky wore his hair up in a low ponytail, only keeping it loose for shoots (not that you knew, of course not), but something was different about it right now… Tonight he had it down, fanning to rest at the base of his neck and spreading over his shoulders. 

Shit.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You startled and blinked – staring, you had been staring at him. Fuck, you cursed silently. “Sorry, Buck–long day,” you lied, ignoring the way your stomach flipped at the thought that Bucky left his hair down- Oh, god, no- “But it’s been good. And you don’t think I can’t take a marathon, huh?”

Bucky smirked. “I know you can’t handle a marathon, cutie.”

“Bucky!” you sputtered, and he just laughed, shaking his head.

“Sorry, sorry–you walked into that one. Anyway,” he said, looking at the blankets laid on the couch. “You get the plates and shit, then we can start.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” you retorted, making him snort. Venturing into the kitchen, you saw Bucky taking off his jacket out of the corner of your eye, and he placed it on the back of the recliner. His back and arm muscles rippled with the movement, and you couldn’t help the way your mouth watered, the fire roaring at the sight. Get it fucking together, you chided yourself, hastily reaching for the plates you needed. 

Bucky groaned loudly as he flopped down onto the couch and into his spot, his head thrown back. “Fucking work, I tell you. They’re making me fit more in each damn day,” he complained, running a hand over his face. 

You frowned – it wasn’t like him to complain about his job. He loved it, truly loved it. “Are you alright, Buck?” you asked from the doorway.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Just… I just wish they’d take in and listen to what I want to do, y’know, into account. Like,” he gestured mindlessly. “I love what I do, but I just want something else. Fucking twinks and blondes all day is great. Don’t get me wrong–I just want something else, just once. Variety is the spice of life or some shit.”

Unable to think of anything in reply – more so the candid comment about just who he fucks, you walked into the living room and sat down on the couch next to him, grabbing his hand. “I know, bubs, you need a change.” Bucky smiled softly and squeezed your hand. Curious, you looked into his eyes and asked, “What is it that you want to do? I’m sure it’s something hella interesting.”

The look Bucky flashed at you was unreadable, almost considering; calculating in nature. “Just something, doll,” he said evasively. “Now, let’s dig in. I’m starving.”

You smiled and reached for the remote, handing it to Bucky. “You chose, you deserve it.”

The TV played quietly in the background as you two ate, catching one another up on the few day’s ventures from when you had last seen one another. Bucky had many, many shoots – his popularity skyrocketing, going by the analytics of his latest uploads of which he bragged heartily about. You congratulated him, despite the pride and jealousy swirling in your chest at the words. Sincerity wasn’t an issue. You were, in fact, very proud of him, but you wanted it – wanted him. 

Inwardly sighing, you began to regale your couple of days. Work had been busy, and the annoying co-worker was being useless, as usual. The small frown on Bucky’s lips at the news made your heart flutter. “Y’know, doll, you could always-”

“No,” you interrupted, “I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t think it’s for me.” Never mind that you’d never experienced anything within the spectrum of his career – too busy with your own job and life, and no one gave you a second glance. “Anyway, I wouldn’t wanna steal your fanbase,” you teased while winking, which pulled a laugh from the brunette.

Dinner passed quickly after that, and you were curled up on the couch, blanket on your lap as you focused on the TV, the scene tense when Bucky shifted. You looked over, but he was still staring at the TV, though he was closer to you – his thigh almost touching yours. 

You raised a brow, staring at his profile until he glanced over at you. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“What are you doing?” you asked, eyes narrowed. “Don't try to deny it, I see it. You're planning something.”

“I am not,” Bucky said innocently, smirking.

You continued to stare at him, brows furrowing. “You know, smirking while saying you’re innocent negates the fact that you are, y’know, innocent.”

Bucky snorted with laughter and shifted even closer. “I just wanna be next to you. That alright?”

“Okay…” The warmth from his bulk made you tense – unsure how to cope with the fact that the man you wanted much more with had moved to sit right next to you, his intentions unclear and unknown. 

Half an hour later, the TV rolled the credits, and you sighed happily, stretching to the ceiling. “Another?” you asked before turning to look at Bucky.

The expression on his face made you freeze in place – warmth enveloped your entire being, and your mouth fell open slightly. It was a devastating stare, hungry and predatory all in one, and he looked famished. 

“Bubs? What–?”

“I have danced around this for so fucking long, and I can’t do it anymore.” Bucky shifted, his body now fully facing yours, and you gulped. “I have seen the way you’ve been looking at me for months now, doll-”

“But-”

Bucky held his hand up, and you fell silent. “Let me finish, sweetheart.” The use of a pet name caused butterflies to come to life in your stomach, and you gave in. You leaned back against the couch cushions to better see him. “I know you know about my lifestyle, and yet, you’re not afraid to get close–you’re my best friend, and I know it’s greedy and downright selfish, but I want more.”

Silence. You couldn’t breathe – couldn’t think… “What?”

“I want you, doll.”

“Oh,” you managed, voice high pitched. “Uh–”

“Take it easy, I don’t mind waiting for you,” Bucky soothed, his hand reaching out to hold yours. 

“But–but I haven’t–” You swallowed, hesitating and feeling the dreaded panic start to flood your nerves. 

“Haven’t what?” Bucky asked gently, his eyes searching yours. 

“Had a… a boyfriend,” you mumbled, grimacing. “I-I, um- I haven’t had one before.”

Bucky stared, eyes slightly widened. "You haven't- Wait, are you telling me you've never had a partner romantically or sexually?”

Shame curled in your stomach, and you shied away, looking down into your lap and doing all you could to avoid his gaze. 

“No, no–don’t hide from me, sweetheart. Look at me,” Bucky pleaded, “please, please look at me.”

You looked up slowly, meeting his gaze. Tears lined your eyes, and you felt embarrassed – the heat that had consumed you a second before twisted into shameful nausea. Of course Bucky would be ashamed, he had sex for a living, and yet, here you were, a virgin at your age with no experience-

“Stop. I mean it, stop it, doll,” Bucky cut in firmly, his hands squeezing yours tightly. “I can see those ugly thoughts in your eyes.”

“But, me?” you whispered, sniffling quietly. “Me? When you could have literally anyone you wanted?”

“It’s always been you, sweetheart,” Bucky replied, expression pained. “I’ve wanted you for so fucking long.” 

“Oh, wow,” you breathed, your bottom lip trembling. “But, Bucky, I’ve never-”

“If you’re telling me you’ve never had sex, that ain’t what bugs me.” The words made your brows furrow, and Bucky sighed. “What bugs me is that you’re so upset that you’ve not got experience–baby, if I am your first for anything, I would be fucking honoured. If you would have me.”

You stared at Bucky for a moment, considering. He was your best friend, the one you’d fallen head over heels for – trust had long been established, and you felt safe with him. This is what you had wanted for so fucking long.

Fuck it, you thought. 

“Please,” you whispered, looking at Bucky. “Please.”

Bucky smiled and leaned in close. “Can I kiss you, baby?” His breath fanned over your lips, and you nodded, moving into the feel of his hand cupping your cheek. “Fuck.”

Your lips met softly in a chaste kiss that shocked you with the feeling of utter passion and devotion poured into it. A small noise escaped your throat without your consent. Bucky's reaction of pulling you closer boosted your confidence, and you shuffled into his space, almost effectively sitting in his lap. 

The sensation of his hand moving to cup the side of your neck made you shiver, and Bucky slowly pulled back from the kiss. "You're sensitive, aren't you, baby?" he remarked. 

You bit your lip. “Never felt that before-”

“Oh, baby,” Bucky purred, grinning widely. “I am gonna blow your mind, but first, if you want to stop, you tell me, and I’ll stop. I will not hurt you.”

“Okay.” Bucky’s hands moved from your face and neck to your waist. 

"Lie back for me, baby girl," he said, directing you to recline on the couch. "I want to show you something." Following his direction, you landed gently on your back. "Now, I want to double-check with you–do you want this? Want me to be your first?"

Without hesitation, you said, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted–I want you, Bucky, please-”

Bucky moaned quietly, and you found you wanted to hear that sound again. “You’re gonna be the fucking end of me, sweetheart.”

His hands moved to your hips again, and he grabbed the waistband of your pants, giving a small tug. You lifted your hips in permission, all while shivering in anticipation, and Bucky worked your leggings and panties off – your lower half was bare, and you had no idea what to expect next. Sure, you’d seen porn, and you knew what sex was, but experiencing it? It fucking terrified and exhilarated you. 

“Have you got protection, baby?” Bucky asked suddenly, tossing your clothes onto the coffee table next to the abandoned food. 

"Bathroom." Bucky raised an eyebrow, and you shrugged. You watched as he walked into your bathroom, and then a second later, he appeared with a box and a tube. 

"Now, have you ever used any toys or had any kind of penetration before, doll?" Bucky asked, looking at you with a reassuring smile. 

Embarrassment surged up your spine and curled your stomach again. Bucky sensed it, and he smiled softly. "I need you to be honest, sweetheart. If you haven't, it's alright–I told you, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. I'm going to take care of you.”

“No…” you whispered. 

Bucky swooped in and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Thank you for being honest with me, baby. Good girl.”

A small squeak left your lips at the praise, and Bucky grinned. “Oh? You like being called a good girl, huh?” Unbidden, your thighs clamped together, and he saw. “You do… that’s a good thing, sweetheart. Because you are my good girl–daddy’s sweet little thing, huh?”

His voice was so deep and low that you swore you could feel it in your very bones, and the words shot straight to your cunt that had started to leak. “D-Daddy?”

“I know that you know about that, baby. You call me daddy, and I will give you anything you want.” Bucky shrugged, a coy smile on his lips. “Now, I’m gonna kneel right here,” he pointed at your thighs. “And you’re gonna lay there while I work. I can’t let that pussy be empty any longer–I know you must be aching.”

You whined – a sound you’d never made before, and Bucky moved in like a wolf to its prey. His hands rested on your knees as he settled, and before you knew it, he was resting his weight against your shins, staring at you with a softening expression. “You open these fucking gorgeous legs when you’re ready, sweetheart. We do this at your pace, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied quietly, and you bit your lip as his hands rubbed up and down the outsides of your thighs. “Okay–I’m ready.” Opening your thighs, Bucky exhaled heavily, his gaze immediately honing in on your pussy. 

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, “already wet for me, huh? Bet you’re real fucking keen to know just how it feels to be pleasured.”

You nod, eyes widening as Bucky’s hand moved to cup your sex. The touch was gentle, and you huffed in surprise when his fingers danced over your folds. “Yeah, y’are. Good fucking girl, proud of you already.”

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, squirming slightly. “Bucky-”

“Never been praised, sweetheart? That’s a shame,” he hummed, leaning close until his body hovered over yours. “Get used to it, baby, because when I’m done with you, you won’t know which way is up.”

A moan fell from your lips, and Bucky grinned. “Now, I’m going to go real slow, I need to stretch you out first. I would fuck you with my tongue, but I’m a lil’ impatient–I can do that later.”

“T-Tongue?” you stuttered, eyes wide. “You–?”

“Oh, baby, you really are an innocent kitten,” Bucky purred, and you shivered violently. “That’s alright, you’ve got a whole new world to experience, and lucky for you, daddy knows all the tricks of the trade.”

You laughed nervously, and Bucky kissed your nose. “Now, sweet thing, I’m gonna play with your clit a bit–get you excited.”

“O-Okay–Ah!” Insistent pressure circled your clit, and you keened. Having masturbated before this, it wasn’t a new sensation, but having another person do it was intense, and it pulled a cry from your lungs. “Bucky, oh my god!”

“I know, I know,” Bucky soothed, his fingers moving a little faster. “Stay with me, baby. I know it feels good.”

The circles on your clit continued a moment longer, each pass making you pant from the new, overwhelming sensation. “Alright,” Bucky mused, looking down at where his hand met your cunt, and he pulled it away. “Look, baby, look how wet you are.”

You glanced down and gasped quietly at the sight, then you looked at Bucky, who was grinning like a madman. “I think you’re ready for a lil’ more.”

“More–? Oh, oh, fuck-” You gasped, jolting in place at the feel of Bucky’s fingers trailing to your opening and pushing with the slightest pressure. 

“Relax, baby girl,” Bucky whispered, leaning forward to mouth at your throat. “You gotta relax for me, sweetheart. Breathe.” Taking a deep breath, you willed your body to unclench, limb by limb, until you were pliant under him again. “That’s it, good girl.”

Bucky’s finger pushed in, the intrusion burning a small amount, and you hissed. “You’re alright; I promise I won’t do anymore,” he reassured, placing a kiss on your forehead again. “You’re doing so, so good for me, baby–just stay relaxed. I can feel how tense you are.”

“Bucky, I-”

“I know, relax for me–relax for daddy, alright? Breathe,” Bucky soothed, smiling down at you. At his words, you tried again, and he smiled wider. “That’s it, now, I’m gonna insert another, stop, then add just one more. That’ll do for the moment.”

“Okay,” you sighed, moving your hands to grip his broad and still clothed shoulders. “Wait, please, I want-” You tugged at the Henley, pouting.

“You want me to take it off?” Bucky questioned as he watched you curiously, and you nodded. “Okay, hang on, baby.” His fingers pulled slowly out of your pussy, and he pulled his shirt off, exposing the muscle and expanse of tattooed skin of his chest. “That better, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, running your hands over his chest, and he shivered. “Daddy looks good.”

“Doll,” Bucky groaned, stilling his movements. “Don’t. Not yet.” You giggled, and he sighed, glancing down at your pussy once more. “Ready for more, baby?”

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling and wiggling your toes. “Please.”

“Good manners,” Bucky praised, kissing you on the lips. “Here we go.”

You moaned at the feel of a second finger, and Bucky paused, the small twitches of his hand ricocheting up your spine like an earthquake. “Why- Oh my god, you’re moving-”

“I’m not, I’m not, baby,” Bucky rushed, voice strained. “It’s just you- Fuck. You’re so tight, and your pussy is squeezing me–I’m trying to keep my cool; I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t say sorry,” you said quickly, shuddering through another twitch. “Just feels- It feels good, oh-”

Bucky grinned, the two fingers now purposefully moving along your walls. 

“Bucky!” you squealed, your stomach tensing and pulling you up off the couch cushions. “Why-”

“Let it go, baby, let yourself feel,” Bucky whispered, doing it again. “I’m going to give you a third finger and then see how you do, alright?”

“Ye- Fuck!”

“Such a sensitive kitten, and fuck, does daddy love it,” Bucky rumbled, moving to loom over you again. “Taking my fingers so well, baby, squeezing them just like you will my cock.”

The words made a violent shiver grip your spine. “Oh, fuck, daddy,” you breathed.

Bucky shushed you, and his fingers twitched again. “You think you’re ready for me to move them, sweetheart?” The words were followed by a sweeping motion, and you keened. “Like that. You tell me when you’re ready.”

“Ye- Yeah,” you rushed, gripping his shoulders. “Please, daddy, I want it.”

“Okay, kitten,” Bucky said, shifting slightly. “Here we go.”

It started subtle – small movements that made your eyelids flutter, then the sweeping motions got bigger, bolder, and you let out a low moan, your chest heaving for breath. 

“Stay with me, baby. I’m looking for something,” Bucky said, biting his lip. You watched through heavily lidded eyes as his brows furrowed in concentration, the sweeping motions getting harder. "Hang on, one second. Oh baby, that's it. Hang on, give it to me. Be a good girl. Come on.”

“What- What are you looking for?” You panted, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. It felt so fucking good, and you were growing needy – wanting more. “I don’t-”

“It will be new for you, baby girl,” Bucky breathed, his eyes widening slightly. “It’s going to be very intense, but it won’t hurt–do you want me to stop?”

“No, no, no, don’t stop,” you pleaded.

“Alright,” Bucky replied, nodding. “Just breathe for me, sweetheart–you’re gonna feel something-” Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, and your eyes bulged. “Like that,” he continued, “but a lot more intense. I need you to trust me.”

“I trust you,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the new feeling. It was like being struck by lightning, and your thighs quivered. “Please, I trust you.”

“Good girl.” 

Bucky’s fingers moved again, this time with a mission, and you swore loudly. “Oh my- Fuck! Daddy! Oh my god! Please, what-”

“Easy,” Bucky breathed, smirking, his fingers keeping up a steady stream of sensation as they curled inwards – each brush making your head swim. “That’s it, just take it, baby. Take it for daddy, c’mon.”

“I don’t- Ah, fucking hell,” you babbled, grasping at Bucky’s shoulders, neck, hair – anywhere to ground yourself.

“That, baby girl, is your g-spot,” Bucky soothed, still moving his fingers. “And each time I hit it, it makes you wanna scream, doesn’t it? It makes you want more, huh?”

“Yes!” you cried, squirming. “Please! I-I, don’t-”

“Cum for me, baby, c’mon,” Bucky encouraged, voice raised above your moans. “I know you want to; give it to me.”

Pleasure blinded you, and your back bowed to the ceiling. “Bucky! Bucky–please, please! Oh my god, I think- Think-”

“Don’t think, kitten, just let go, I’ll catch you.”

A loud cry tore from your lips, and you shook under Bucky, your climax stealing your breath and ability to move or think. You could only hear the pounding of blood in your ears and the faraway sound of Bucky’s voice calling over the waves, “That’s it, good girl–good fucking girl, give it all to me. Daddy wants it all, c’mon.”

Slowly, your vision returned, and you glanced around, still panting for breath. “What the fuck,” you gasped, and Bucky laughed. 

“Now that was a fucking sight that I will never forget, sweetheart,” Bucky said smugly. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and leaned forward to kiss you full on the mouth, his tongue parting your lips greedily. “My baby girl is a greedy one. Even when cumming, you begged for more.”

“Huh?” you asked, dazed and confused. 

“You screamed for more when you were cumming–it was fucking beautiful,” Bucky praised. “And I will give you more, sweetheart, but I need you to catch your breath first. Are you alright?”

You blinked once, twice, and looked down at your body. A sheen of sweat had settled over your stomach and chest, your cunt quivered through aftershocks, pulsing every other second, and your thighs quivered. “I am great,” you said, grinning. 

“Atta girl,” Bucky laughed. “Catch your breath, and then you can have more.”

“Okay, daddy.” Bucky winked and sat back on his haunches, running his hands over your calves this time. “Fuck, that was…”

“A lot?” Bucky finished. “Yeah, you won’t last long with my cock in you, either, but fuck, you’re gonna be like heaven, sweetheart. And I can’t fucking wait to bury myself in that sweet cunt a’yours.”

“Jesus, Bucky,” you mumbled, eyes wide. 

“Just you wait, gonna see how filthy my mouth really gets when I fuck you, kitten,” Bucky teased.

And you couldn’t wait, not now that you knew just how good his fingers were.

And I–

⠈⠂⠄𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[fandom]

Deltarune

This is Toby Fox’s website and we’re just living on it. For more than seven years, his games have cast a spell on Tumblr, stealing the hearts of fans with their winning combination of storytelling, innovative gameplay, and characters filled with heart and determination. Our first look at Toby’s world of monsters and humans came in 2015 when Undertale was released. We learned the meaning of mercy and that while talking through conflict might not be the easiest path, it’s always the right one. When the first chapter of Deltarune came out in 2018, absolute chaos ensued. We met Kris, Susie, and Ralsei and set off on a brand new adventure where you fell in love with the Undertale universe all over again.

The second chapter came as a complete surprise and was one of the best gifts Tumblr received in the past year. You immediately latched onto the continuation of some of the best lore in gaming and memed the living heck out of it. You also spammed our dashes with a tiny little man in pink and yellow sunglasses—so much so that he ended up becoming the #1 video game character on all of Tumblr this year. Spamton had a chance to become a [[big shot!]] and, boy, did he take it. 

And he wasn’t the only new character Deltarune threw into the mix. As a game with a combat system based almost entirely (if you’re playing correctly) on social interactions, its characters are key. They're relatable and make you want to root for them. Even, and often especially, for the bad guys. We can almost hear you yelling, “I can fix him!” into the void, and we believe you! Remember that one time you talked about the Deltarune villain, Queen, so much you skewed the tag data for one of the biggest bands of all time and the actual Queen of England? We sure do. And when Noelle Holiday joined the party, your team was finally complete.

This year marked the first anniversary of Deltarune’s second chapter, and you celebrated with every post type Tumblr has to offer. You survived the Tumblr Sexyman poll and the Spamton Sweepstakes, and for that, you all deserve the shiniest gold ribbon.

All of this to say that Toby Fox wins Tumblr. Undertale, for Tumblr, was a total cultural reset, and its impact is still felt even seven years later. It first appeared on our weekly video games list way back on September 21, 2015, just days after the game’s release—and it has been on every single list but one since then. So we’ve always known that Deltarune would find a loving home on Tumblr, and it truly has been so loved.

[mass-effect-galaxy]

Nine Characters You Need To Make A Successful Fantasy Game:

1

The heroic fighter who pretends to be a simple warrior but is the son of nobility instead. His story is to be revealed when you stop to help people in need and he becomes more important once your party reaches the city. On the downside, his life is in peril because of the source of his powers.

2

The cynical and secretive woman who was abducted as a young girl and raised by ancient dark forces that she now considers her home. She is set on a secret mission by said forces and holds the key to the protagonist's survival.

3

The foreigner from a hostile people who came to this country with bad intentions. She was betrayed by a woman she loved and now is part of a cult. Her former lover is trying to abduct her later in the game and you have to kill that one eventually.

4

The totally alien warrior whom you have to free from a cage where they are held by the locals to be killed by monsters. The alien warrior despises your culture in the beginning but you will come to a mutual understanding during your camp talks.

5

The middle-aged mage lecturing you on right and wrong. However, they are living on borrowed time because of something evil inside their body.

6

The charming elf rouge with unclear orientation. He was forced down an evil path and tries to assault you on your first meeting. Now he is on the run from his former master. Once you have dug yourself through his many layers of charm and deflection, a dark back story is revealed, and the path to redemption is open.

7

The vulgar warrior with the great axe. They have a tragic past of being betrayed by a brilliant inventor who now wants to take over the world with crafted war machines. Eventually, you have to fight said inventor and destroy the machines for good.

8

The character who was turned into a statue, talks incomprehensibly, and has an odd relationship with a certain species of animals.

9

A dog.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The moral injury of having your work enshittified

This Monday (November 27), I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

This week, I wrote about how the Great Enshittening – in which all the digital services we rely on become unusable, extractive piles of shit – did not result from the decay of the morals of tech company leadership, but rather, from the collapse of the forces that discipline corporate wrongdoing:

https://locusmag.com/2023/11/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-dont-be-evil/

The failure to enforce competition law allowed a few companies to buy out their rivals, or sell goods below cost until their rivals collapsed, or bribe key parts of their supply chain not to allow rivals to participate:

https://www.engadget.com/google-reportedly-pays-apple-36-percent-of-ad-search-revenues-from-safari-191730783.html

The resulting concentration of the tech sector meant that the surviving firms were stupendously wealthy, and cozy enough that they could agree on a common legislative agenda. That regulatory capture has allowed tech companies to violate labor, privacy and consumer protection laws by arguing that the law doesn't apply when you use an app to violate it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But the regulatory capture isn't just about preventing regulation: it's also about creating regulation – laws that make it illegal to reverse-engineer, scrape, and otherwise mod, hack or reconfigure existing services to claw back value that has been taken away from users and business customers. This gives rise to Jay Freeman's perfectly named doctrine of "felony contempt of business-model," in which it is illegal to use your own property in ways that anger the shareholders of the company that sold it to you:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

Undisciplined by the threat of competition, regulation, or unilateral modification by users, companies are free to enshittify their products. But what does that actually look like? I say that enshittification is always precipitated by a lost argument.

It starts when someone around a board-room table proposes doing something that's bad for users but good for the company. If the company faces the discipline of competition, regulation or self-help measures, then the workers who are disgusted by this course of action can say, "I think doing this would be gross, and what's more, it's going to make the company poorer," and so they win the argument.

But when you take away that discipline, the argument gets reduced to, "Don't do this because it would make me ashamed to work here, even though it will make the company richer." Money talks, bullshit walks. Let the enshittification begin!

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/22/who-wins-the-argument/#corporations-are-people-my-friend

But why do workers care at all? That's where phrases like "don't be evil" come into the picture. Until very recently, tech workers participated in one of history's tightest labor markets, in which multiple companies with gigantic war-chests bid on their labor. Even low-level employees routinely fielded calls from recruiters who dangled offers of higher salaries and larger stock grants if they would jump ship for a company's rival.

Employers built "campuses" filled with lavish perks: massages, sports facilities, daycare, gourmet cafeterias. They offered workers generous benefit packages, including exotic health benefits like having your eggs frozen so you could delay fertility while offsetting the risks normally associated with conceiving at a later age.

But all of this was a transparent ruse: the business-case for free meals, gyms, dry-cleaning, catering and massages was to keep workers at their laptops for 10, 12, or even 16 hours per day. That egg-freezing perk wasn't about helping workers plan their families: it was about thumbing the scales in favor of working through your entire twenties and thirties without taking any parental leave.

In other words, tech employers valued their employees as a means to an end: they wanted to get the best geeks on the payroll and then work them like government mules. The perks and pay weren't the result of comradeship between management and labor: they were the result of the discipline of competition for labor.

This wasn't really a secret, of course. Big Tech workers are split into two camps: blue badges (salaried employees) and green badges (contractors). Whenever there is a slack labor market for a specific job or skill, it is converted from a blue badge job to a green badge job. Green badges don't get the food or the massages or the kombucha. They don't get stock or daycare. They don't get to freeze their eggs. They also work long hours, but they are incentivized by the fear of poverty.

Tech giants went to great lengths to shield blue badges from green badges – at some Google campuses, these workforces actually used different entrances and worked in different facilities or on different floors. Sometimes, green badge working hours would be staggered so that the armies of ragged clickworkers would not be lined up to badge in when their social betters swanned off the luxury bus and into their airy adult kindergartens.

But Big Tech worked hard to convince those blue badges that they were truly valued. Companies hosted regular town halls where employees could ask impertinent questions of their CEOs. They maintained freewheeling internal social media sites where techies could rail against corporate foolishness and make Dilbert references.

And they came up with mottoes.

Apple told its employees it was a sound environmental steward that cared about privacy. Apple also deliberately turned old devices into e-waste by shredding them to ensure that they wouldn't be repaired and compete with new devices:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

And even as they were blocking Facebook's surveillance tools, they quietly built their own nonconsensual mass surveillance program and lied to customers about it:

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

Facebook told employees they were on a "mission to connect every person in the world," but instead deliberately sowed discontent among its users and trapped them in silos that meant that anyone who left Facebook lost all their friends:

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

And Google promised its employees that they would not "be evil" if they worked at Google. For many googlers, that mattered. They wanted to do something good with their lives, and they had a choice about who they would work for. What's more, they did make things that were good. At their high points, Google Maps, Google Mail, and of course, Google Search were incredible.

My own life was totally transformed by Maps: I have very poor spatial sense, need to actually stop and think to tell my right from my left, and I spent more of my life at least a little lost and often very lost. Google Maps is the cognitive prosthesis I needed to become someone who can go anywhere. I'm profoundly grateful to the people who built that service.

There's a name for phenomenon in which you care so much about your job that you endure poor conditions and abuse: it's called "vocational awe," as coined by Fobazi Ettarh:

https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

Ettarh uses the term to apply to traditionally low-waged workers like librarians, teachers and nurses. In our book Chokepoint Capitalism, Rebecca Giblin and I talked about how it applies to artists and other creative workers, too:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

But vocational awe is also omnipresent in tech. The grandiose claims to be on a mission to make the world a better place are not just puffery – they're a vital means of motivating workers who can easily quit their jobs and find a new one to put in 16-hour days. The massages and kombucha and egg-freezing are not framed as perks, but as logistical supports, provided so that techies on an important mission can pursue a shared social goal without being distracted by their balky, inconvenient meatsuits.

Steve Jobs was a master of instilling vocational awe. He was full of aphorisms like "we're here to make a dent in the universe, otherwise why even be here?" Or his infamous line to John Sculley, whom he lured away from Pepsi: "Do you want to sell sugar water for the rest of your life or come with me and change the world?"

Vocational awe cuts both ways. If your workforce actually believes in all that high-minded stuff, if they actually sacrifice their health, family lives and self-care to further the mission, they will defend it. That brings me back to enshittification, and the argument: "If we do this bad thing to the product I work on, it will make me hate myself."

The decline in market discipline for large tech companies has been accompanied by a decline in labor discipline, as the market for technical work grew less and less competitive. Since the dotcom collapse, the ability of tech giants to starve new entrants of market oxygen has shrunk techies' dreams.

Tech workers once dreamed of working for a big, unwieldy firm for a few years before setting out on their own to topple it with a startup. Then, the dream shrank: work for that big, clumsy firm for a few years, then do a fake startup that makes a fake product that is acquihired by your old employer, as an incredibly inefficient and roundabout way to get a raise and a bonus.

Then the dream shrank again: work for a big, ugly firm for life, but get those perks, the massages and the kombucha and the stock options and the gourmet cafeteria and the egg-freezing. Then it shrank again: work for Google for a while, but then get laid off along with 12,000 co-workers, just months after the company does a stock buyback that would cover all those salaries for the next 27 years:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/10/the-proletarianization-of-tech-workers/

Tech workers' power was fundamentally individual. In a tight labor market, tech workers could personally stand up to their bosses. They got "workplace democracy" by mouthing off at town hall meetings. They didn't have a union, and they thought they didn't need one. Of course, they did need one, because there were limits to individual power, even for the most in-demand workers, especially when it came to ghastly, long-running sexual abuse from high-ranking executives:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/25/technology/google-sexual-harassment-andy-rubin.html

Today, atomized tech workers who are ordered to enshittify the products they take pride in are losing the argument. Workers who put in long hours, missed funerals and school plays and little league games and anniversaries and family vacations are being ordered to flush that sacrifice down the toilet to grind out a few basis points towards a KPI.

It's a form of moral injury, and it's palpable in the first-person accounts of former workers who've exited these large firms or the entire field. The viral "Reflecting on 18 years at Google," written by Ian Hixie, vibrates with it:

https://ln.hixie.ch/?start=1700627373

Hixie describes the sense of mission he brought to his job, the workplace democracy he experienced as employees' views were both solicited and heeded. He describes the positive contributions he was able to make to a commons of technical standards that rippled out beyond Google – and then, he says, "Google's culture eroded":

Decisions went from being made for the benefit of users, to the benefit of Google, to the benefit of whoever was making the decision.

In other words, techies started losing the argument. Layoffs weakened worker power – not just to defend their own interest, but to defend the users interests. Worker power is always about more than workers – think of how the 2019 LA teachers' strike won greenspace for every school, a ban on immigration sweeps of students' parents at the school gates and other community benefits:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

Hixie attributes the changes to a change in leadership, but I respectfully disagree. Hixie points to the original shareholder letter from the Google founders, in which they informed investors contemplating their IPO that they were retaining a controlling interest in the company's governance so that they could ignore their shareholders' priorities in favor of a vision of Google as a positive force in the world:

https://abc.xyz/investor/founders-letters/ipo-letter/

Hixie says that the leadership that succeeded the founders lost sight of this vision – but the whole point of that letter is that the founders never fully ceded control to subsequent executive teams. Yes, those executive teams were accountable to the shareholders, but the largest block of voting shares were retained by the founders.

I don't think the enshittification of Google was due to a change in leadership – I think it was due to a change in discipline, the discipline imposed by competition, regulation and the threat of self-help measures. Take ads: when Google had to contend with one-click adblocker installation, it had to constantly balance the risk of making users so fed up that they googled "how do I block ads?" and then never saw another ad ever again.

But once Google seized the majority of the mobile market, it was able to funnel users into apps, and reverse-engineering an app is a felony (felony contempt of business-model) under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a crime to install an ad-blocker.

And as Google acquired control over the browser market, it was likewise able to reduce the self-help measures available to browser users who found ads sufficiently obnoxious to trigger googling "how do I block ads?" The apotheosis of this is the yearslong campaign to block adblockers in Chrome, which the company has sworn it will finally do this coming June:

https://www.tumblr.com/tevruden/734352367416410112/you-have-until-june-to-dump-chrome

My contention here is not that Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in personnel via the promotion of managers who have shitty ideas. Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in discipline, as the negative consequences of heeding those shitty ideas were abolished thanks to monopoly.

This is bad news for people like me, who rely on services like Google Maps as cognitive prostheses. Elizabeth Laraki, one of the original Google Maps designers, has published a scorching critique of the latest GMaps design:

https://twitter.com/elizlaraki/status/1727351922254852182

Laraki calls out numerous enshittificatory design-choices that have left Maps screens covered in "crud" – multiple revenue-maximizing elements that come at the expense of usability, shifting value from users to Google.

What Laraki doesn't say is that these UI elements are auctioned off to merchants, which means that the business that gives Google the most money gets the greatest prominence in Maps, even if it's not the best merchant. That's a recurring motif in enshittified tech platforms, most notoriously Amazon, which makes $31b/year auctioning off top search placement to companies whose products aren't relevant enough to your query to command that position on their own:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

Enshittification begets enshittification. To succeed on Amazon, you must divert funds from product quality to auction placement, which means that the top results are the worst products:

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

The exception is searches for Apple products: Apple and Amazon have a cozy arrangement that means that searches for Apple products are a timewarp back to the pre-enshittification Amazon, when the company worried enough about losing your business to heed the employees who objected to sacrificing search quality as part of a merchant extortion racket:

https://www.businessinsider.com/amazon-gives-apple-special-treatment-while-others-suffer-junk-ads-2023-11

Not every tech worker is a tech bro, in other words. Many workers care deeply about making your life better. But the microeconomics of the boardroom in a monopolized tech sector rewards the worst people and continuously promotes them. Forget the Peter Principle: tech is ruled by the Sam Principle.

As OpenAI went through four CEOs in a single week, lots of commentators remarked on Sam Altman's rise and fall and rise, but I only found one commentator who really had Altman's number. Writing in Today in Tabs, Rusty Foster nailed Altman to the wall:

https://www.todayintabs.com/p/defective-accelerationism

Altman's history goes like this: first, he founded a useless startup that raised $30m, only to be acquired and shuttered. Then Altman got a job running Y Combinator, where he somehow failed at taking huge tranches of equity from "every Stanford dropout with an idea for software to replace something Mommy used to do." After that, he founded OpenAI, a company that he claims to believe presents an existential risk to the entire human risk – which he structured so incompetently that he was then forced out of it.

His reward for this string of farcical, mounting failures? He was put back in charge of the company he mis-structured despite his claimed belief that it will destroy the human race if not properly managed.

Altman's been around for a long time. He founded his startup in 2005. There've always been Sams – of both the Bankman-Fried varietal and the Altman genus – in tech. But they didn't get to run amok. They were disciplined by their competitors, regulators, users and workers. The collapse of competition led to an across-the-board collapse in all of those forms of discipline, revealing the executives for the mediocre sociopaths they always were, and exposing tech workers' vocational awe for the shabby trick it was from the start.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification

[cheeseceli]

I'll be waiting

Pairing: idol Bang Chan × Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, friends to potential lovers, fic (1.6k words)

Prompt: "Even ten years from now, if you haven't found somebody I promise I'll be around. Tell me when you're ready. I'm waiting"

Warnings: for a short moment there's a bit of unrequited love, happy ending tho. Mentions of insecurity back to the trainee days.

A/n: the longest fic I've ever done, I'm kinda proud of it ngl

Patience might be Chan's biggest virtue, he thinks to himself. By seeing where he's right now and where he was ten years ago, he smiles. He couldn't agree more with that statement.

2014

He still remembers the first time he saw you.

Monthly evaluation. At this point, Chan should already be used to this whole process of the trainee life. However, that day felt particularly depressing to him. Hopeless, he would say.

He had found out that JYP was about to debut a new group. A girl group. And as much as Bang Chan tried to be completely happy for his friends who could finally try and debut, he had to admit he was somewhat jealous. Four years of training and he felt like he was heading towards nowhere.

Still, he tried to practice. He sang the song he would showcase so many times he reached the point of not even feeling the words leaving his mouth. He was so lost he also didn't notice the presence of someone else in the practice room. That is, until you clapped.

Chan turned his head towards you, low-key surprised. He recognised you as the child of one of the Got7's staff. He couldn't remember your name though. He doubted he even heard it at all.

"Sorry" you finally spoke. Your voice was pretty "I'm looking for my dad. Your voice is very beautiful though. You're doing well." And with a thumbs up you went away.

Chan couldn't help but laugh. Now that was random. He could barely process what happened. But you complimented him. It had been a while since he last heard a genuine compliment.

Somewhere inside his mind, he repeated his words nonstop, filling him with motivation and hope. He also was trying to remember to ask your name later.

2016

He did remember to ask your name after all. Y/n L/n. The pronunciation of your name was beautiful, almost like a melody. Honestly, after two years of knowing you, he could affirm that your existence itself was like a sweet melody.

You both became friends, good ones at that. He also found himself developing feelings for you. That was the saddest part of it all in his opinion.

Even though he hadn't known you for so long, he couldn't see life without you. To live without your horrible jokes (that he always found funny), without your sunshine-like personality (even though most people wouldn't describe you like that. Maybe you were his personal dose of light) felt like a nightmare.

However, it felt a bit cruel that he needed to live like that. He wanted to be an idol. You were the one who was his biggest incentive. Then why, to have a romance with you, could bring problems to his career? It was almost as if destiny liked to make chan suffer.

Pick one.

Happily, Chan was patient. So patient that he decided to wait for you as long as needed. He had hopes that any time now, you would come to him. And he would be ready.

Meanwhile, he focused on becoming an idol. He couldn't give up now, especially given the fact that he knew you'd be in the front row, cheering for him louder than everyone else.

2018

He kept his promise: he followed his dream, finally achieving the so exciting debut, and still waited for you, his crush developing into the most sincere love he ever felt.

However, you had other plans. Of course, you were still there for him. You were probably the one who got the happiest with the results of the survival show. You spent countless nights with him on the practice room and in the studio. You were seeing his dream come true in first hand.

But this time, there was someone else besides you: your current boyfriend. Chan really doesn't know why he didn't think this could've happened. Of course, you were dating. You were smart, beautiful and had so much love to give. Someone else would've fallen for you at some point. And it was unfair of him to expect you to be single, waiting for an empty promise.

The saddest part of it was that your boyfriend was a nice guy. It was clear he loved you. He even made an effort to love everyone who you loved, including Chan himself. You were happy around him.

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Chan got the job, you got someone to love - someone who could adore you without being scared of the media - and you both still got each other in the end.

Maybe that was what Chan could have. It's okay, right?

2020

The downfall of Chan's patience at last.

Although you both were still as close as you always were, life was leading each of you in your own direction.

You had a job, he had a job. You had your friends, he had his members. You had your own house, he had the dorms. You had your boyfriend, he didn't have a partner. But it was okay because he didn't even have the time after all.

Still, he tried to fall for someone else during this period. Being in this industry for two years now, he had the opportunity to meet a lot of people. Some fancied him, some tried to take a step further in a somewhat relationship. Some even wanted to just have fun. Chan swears he tried to give in most of the time.

Needless to say he failed at every try. He couldn't come close to someone without wishing it was you instead. His short answers were compared to how sweetly he talked to you. He didn't even bother to call people or have long conversations. He knew it was only a matter of time until his mind started the undesired comparison.

Maybe it was what the job required. Maybe it was because of his lack of time. Han disagrees though. Chan remembers how his friend insisted on the fact that his leader wouldn't even try with other people. But it wasn't his fault either, as it was a subconscious thing. Chan's mind was still wrapped around you. And his heart wanted to disagree, but it all goes down the moment he finds out you and your boyfriend, now your ex, had broken up.

Although he tried hard to deny, he couldn't help but still wait for you. No matter if there was a light at the end of the tunnel or if it was only darkness. He would wait.

2022

Something in your brain has switched, and Bang Chan can't say he really liked the difference.

Of course, you were still the greatest person he ever met. You were still his sunshine. But it seemed like you were tired. Your conception of life and love wasn't as bright as it once was and Chan couldn't help but feel worried about it.

For him, who has loved you deeply for over eight years now, to see you giving yourself less credit and affection hurt him. He doesn't know why and when it happened, but your brain was trying to shut down all genuine feelings one could offer to you. You thought you were, maybe, undeserving of it all.

Honestly, to see you slowly losing your light has wounded Chan way more than all his past experiences: from his fear of failure to his disappointment upon meeting your ex boyfriend. Almost as an instinct,he tried to solve the situation. This time, patience wouldn't do.

Without even noticing, he started to love you more. To actually show you how he cared for you, to put his feelings into words and actions. At first, your heart tried to deny any possible affection, but it soon realised it wasn't possible. Not when Chan didn't even hesitate on showing the entire world how you were worthy of love. And not once he showed it as a challenge or a burden. He was by your side, and he never made it seem hard.

The best part of it all was that none of you noticed it. He started to open up to you to try and protect you,and you opened up to him in order to heal and protect his feelings. Maybe that was patience finally showing itself as a virtue.

2024

Ten years later, it finally happened.

Honestly, Chan was still a bit suspicious. There was no way he was actually seeing this, right? Maybe he was becoming delusional after all. Maybe he started to hallucinate because of his desires. But at the same time, it felt too real.

The way you looked at him, that is. It was just a normal conversation between old friends. Between gossips and laughs, there was absolutely no reason for you to look at him like this. So lost in thought, with this shimmer in your eyes that Chan knew way too well. He knew it because he had it too.

It was love. Not the one nurtured by friends or family. The one shared just between lovers. And he was so sure of it because he knew he looked at you in the exact same way you were looking at him right now.

He smiles. For a moment, you're a bit lost, wondering if you lost a joke or an important moment. That, however, makes him laugh. He couldn't believe he just saw you fall in love on the first row.

Ah, he's been patient. Now, he can't wait for you to realise what just happened. Either way, he knows with a smile on his face that he'll be waiting for you.

I promise I'll be around.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: summer with you

Thank you for reading <3 let me know what you think about it!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143

Dividers by @dollywons

Credits for images 1 , 2 and 3

[gisellecnz]

𝐀/𝐧: Okay, first of all—anon, I am SO SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING, I've had a new sy started so I was a little busy..😭😭 and I'm sorry maybe you wanted me to answer your ask directly to the post wherein I publish the fic already, so here's a photo of your ask in a screen shot form. 😭 Also, first would be gojo, and then next is Geto!!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo x reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: gojo took longer than expected to go home so reader is worried, angst to fluff, gojo babying you, fluff at the end

tick, tock, tick, tock

You stared at the clock, watching it tick and tock. It was past twelve, and each second felt like it lasted forever.

Satoru told you that he'd be home around 9 or 10 from his three-week overseas mission today, but there was no sound of keys clanging at the door, nor any update from him telling you that he'd be home in how many minutes left.

A tired sigh left from your lips, your eyelids becoming heavy as you slumped down on the couch that was near the entrance – your worry increasing every second for Satoru.

You grabbed your phone that was sat on the wooden table, turning it on as you checked your lock screen to see if there was any notification from Satoru – still none.

You opened the app where you and Satoru always communicated, whenever you two were separated. Your recent message to him – "Satoru? Are things going okay with the mission? How many hours left till you're home?" – was still left on delivered after 5 hours. It didn't show that he was active either. What was going on? He'd always text you back immediately. That was not exactly like him at all.

Anxiety was growing inside you each and every second you think about Satoru. Did something go wrong on his mission? No, you shouldn't think about that. He's strong—he should be able to survive. But what if he encountered a dangerous cursed relic?

Sigh. Negative thoughts kept filling up your mind, you tried to reassure yourself that everything went fine, but it just couldn't stop to the point it brought you to tears.

After a many minutes later, you heard keys jingling outside, indicating that someone is trying to open the door outside. Was that Satoru?

As the door creaked open, you quickly wiped away your tears and sat up straight, your heart pounding in anticipation.

And there, you saw him. Satoru was standing in the doorway. He looked more worn out than usual but was still unharmed. His hair was slightly tousled, and had dried blood stains on his jacket. You eyes looked down to his hands, which were holding on some sweets and a gift for you.

"Hey," he said softly. He noticed the tired look on your face, and the way your eyes we're wet and slightly puffy. Did you stay up all night for him? He felt bad. He closed the door behind him, and dropped his gifts on the couch beside him.

"Satoru, " you breathed out, relief washing over you as you ran to hug him tightly, whilst more tears were running down your face. "I was so worried. You got home so late and you didn't respond to my messages."

"I'm so sorry baby." He said, pulling you into a tighter embrace. Leaning in to give your forehead a gentle kiss. "The mission took longer than expected, and I forgot I had my phone inside my pocket while fighting and it broke...I was absolutely panicking when I realized I wouldn't be able to text you." He pulled back slightly to look at you, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. "But I'm here now, yeah? I'm safe, dont worry. You shouldn't have stayed up all night to wait for me baby... " he plants another kiss on your forehead.

You buried your face in his chest, the familiar scent of him calming your racing heart. "B-but... How can I not sleep after you were gone for so many days, and you came home later..." Your words were a bit muffled due to you burying your face into his jacket, giving him a small weak punch on his chest as you sniffled in your cries.

Satoru's face softened into a sad expression, guilt evident in his eyes as he looked down at you. He gently cupped your face, lifting it so your eyes met his. "I know, I know. M'very sorry baby. Didn't mean to make you worry so much."

Seeing the tears streaming down your face made his heart ache. "It's okay baby, don't cry anymore. Hm? It's okay, I'm here now."

He rested his chin on top of your head, "I bought you some sweets and a little gift. I knew you'd be upset once I came back."

"You didn't need too..."

"Why not?"

You can imagine the pout on his face as he starts to gently sway you from side to side, whilst rubbing your back in circles.

"Alright, alright. Let's go back to bed now. Don't want my princess to get sick from staying aaaalll night long just for waiting for me.

in the end you both cuddled so tightly and you woke up to a bunch of gifts, he felt bad about you worrying so much about him and he thought the gifts from last night weren't enough 🥲

[octopineslime]

The Sweetest Dream

Summary: If kissing Lucy was all just in his head, he would never want to wake up from this sweetest dream.

---

Igneel had long since taught him to expect the unexpected.

The wilderness was full of danger with ferocious beasts and poisonous plants. One wrong move and his tiny life would be snuffed out like a dying flame.

Although his dragon dad had promised that as long as Natsu stuck closely by his side, no harm would dare befall on his one and only son.

But that not to say Igneel willingly coddled him, quite the opposite really, as the dragon would literally drop him in front of a giant, angry boar and expected him to bring back dinner, as if he wasn’t a snot-nosed brat who just began to learn the secret art of dragonslayer at the time.

Nevertheless, he did manage to gain them a hearty meal of roasted boar meat, but not without a throbbing bump on the head and a few scraps and bruises in between. Despite his fighting skill and survival instinct did improve by a leap after facing such large beasts, he was still bitter with the whole thing. They called it tough love, he called it bullshit.

Anyways, the dragon made it clear that he would not always be around Natsu’s side all the time (it didn’t even cross his young, naive mind that the declaration was painfully literal until much later), so he had to be prepared and stayed alert at all times.

That’s why he began to develop a habit of immediate awaken from slumber at the smallest sound, or the slightest shift in the air, whenever Igneel went out on a a dangerous hunt on his own (the meat always tastier the larger the beasts), or did his instinctual dragon things like hoarding.

And this habit had more or less affected his health after the disappearance of all dragons. He rarely got a full eight-hours sleep unless he was rendered unconscious by the monstrous moving contraptions called vehicles, or by Erza’s packing punch. Neither option sounded appealing and he was certain that he would die first from either puking his guts out, or from concussions, way before sleep-deprived exhaustion.

It’s also one of the reasons why he chose to build his home, or nesting ground, inside the wood near the outskirt of Magnolia despite its far distance from the guild. The wildlife was all he knew, being one of his core memories, and he found himself most relaxed and lured to sleep easier surrounded by nature.

Having Happy, his trusted companion and best friend nearby, also helped tremendously with his light-sleeping tendency as he trusted the Exceed to watch his back in his most vulnerable state.

But it all changed when Lucy stumbled upon his life. The weirdo with a too kind for her own good heart and key-wielding magic, carried a unique scent that tickled the back of Natsu’s mind of something overly familiar and comforting from a distant time, fogging his brain to want nothing more than to curl up against her and sleep the day away.

But he didn’t think she would appreciate that when they were practically strangers at the time. She might sick one of the Rune Knight, or worse, one of her spirits on him if he was to clomp her and promptly fall asleep.

That’s why, in his rare moments of geniuses, a brilliant plan struck him like lightning: He would bring Lucy to Fairy Tail, and find a way to have her become his partner so she could get more comfortable with him, and the idea of them cuddling for sleep. It was such a foolproof plan (or so he thought) that he couldn’t wait to carry it out.

And carried it out he did. Although his plan didn’t involve them being chased by a horde of angry Rune Knights for destroying the port, or how they nearly died saving Macao from Mt. Hakobe, or even discovering a life changing secret from a dead but renowned author to his son by disregarding the mission objective.

But he could honestly say he definitely preferred this more chaotic version of his initial simple plan, as he hadn’t experienced this much fun in his wizarding career, all thanks to his mood-swing, weird but super awesome blonde partner.

Despite his initial goal was to have Lucy allowing him to cuddle with her platonically and get the much needed sleep, his path started straying away from the blurred goal the longer he got to know the celestial wizard.

Lucy was beautiful, a fact as obvious as the sky was blue or how fire would always beat ice. Her whole appearance screamed femininity, from the top of her silky golden hair, to the scraps she considered outfits clinging to her generous figure, to finally the tips of her manicured and painted toe nails. Like an alluring flame drawing moths, his partner attracted attention from left to right, both from the male and some female populations, with just a batter of her thick eyelashes and a swing of her curvy hips. Her outwardly innocent appearance subconsciously aroused others’ desire to protect a seemingly dainty and gorgeous female.

But she was anything but dainty and weak, far from it. Natsu would gladly sit back and cackle maniacally in glee at the unfortunate souls, who dared to claim otherwise, being subjected to his partner’s hellish whips and righteous fury. He watched that girl take on opponents twice her size and magic with an unwavering determination and battle will, unleashing the wrath of starry heaven on foes who dared threaten any of her family members.

He wondered if this was what Igneel felt when watching him, the immense pride and adoration to the one whom he took under his wings and oversaw their tremendous growth both in strength and character. Watching Lucy grow more confident and assured in her magic and her own self made something purred deeply in satisfaction inside of him.

He wanted to shout out loud to the whole world that that’s his partner. He was the one who brought her to the guild. He chose her to be his partner and have her in his team. He made her believe in their guild’s unwavering familial bonds and help her kickass any losers standing in their paths.

He even won her trust to see Lucy just being Lucy, a weirdo who all grumpy before having her morning cup of coffee, who snorted a little too loud when she found something extremely funny, who would collect all the magazine coupons to pay a discount price for her grocery while literally spending a huge amount of jewels on the tiny fabric strips she called cute clothes.

Around him, she didn’t need to put up the pristine and ladylike image of Lucy Heartfillia, she could be just Lucy. And when she smiled at him, all teeth and eyes squinted shut, with bruises and scrapes littered her porcelain skin and hair tangles unlike birdnest after a tough battle, he found himself free-falling into the pit of uncharted thoughts and feelings.

Long before he knew, he was discontented with being just her friend and was craving for the unknown, and scary feeling of wanting to be something more.

And that made the impact of knowing he would never be Lucy’s type of guy all the more painful.

For all the unsuccessful dates she went on, Lucy always seemed to fall back to those pretty-looking, lanky-built guys who always talked in fancy language and more brain than brawn. Natsu never approved any of them, they all seemed wimpy and boring with all their talking about difficult literature and never about battle tactics or adventure.

But he held his tongue and attitude, despite wanting to punch some reality into those guys who had such rose-coloured view of the wizarding world and being prejudiced of how a lady like Lucy shouldn’t take on a dangerous career (he glad that his partner did slap some sense to those assholes with her sharp tongue), all because Lucy looked happy enough, even only for a brief period.

Despite feeling like someone took a dagger and stabbed repeatedly at his poor heart whenever Lucy gushed and dressed up to the nine for her upcoming dates, he would be her biggest supporter and the shoulder for her to lean on if the dates ended up in an unfavoring note. As long as she kept smiling and being happy, he would bottle up those unrequited feelings of his to be by her side.

That’s why, it threw him the fuck off to feel the lingering pressure on his tingling lips, and a hovering scantily-cladded Lucy all flushed up over his rapidly heated body.

It was midnight when he crawled into her bed through her left opened window as usual. His partner would already be out cold for her much needed beauty sleep, hence, lessen the painful possibilities of him receiving a Lucy-kick to the face and leaving all aching on the floor when he only wanted to fall peacefully asleep for eight-hours straight.

Ever since Lucy came into his life, her comforting scent of pure honey and vanilla had always left a calming effect on his alerted senses, a privilege he long forgotten from when Igneel disappeared. Her presence smelled like home and safety, and the fact that every corner of her apartment drenched in those uniquely-Lucy scent had made his inner dragon yipped happily at the newfound nest.

The revelation of feeling pure energy coursing through his veins, fire magic roaring deep inside his core and his every senses sharpened like never before, when he rediscovered what uninterrupted sleep until the morning light feel like after curiously crashing on Lucy’s bed, had kept him greedily coming back for more.

Luckily for him, his constant sneaking in had somehow miraculously grown on the blonde when she seemingly lessened her violent attempts in kicking him out, and started to leave his side of the bed, next to the window, unoccupied as time went on.

So he did his usual nightly ritual of kicking off his sandals, stripping off his day jacket, and climbing into his spot underneath her pink comforter. The alluring warmth of Lucy’s body heat and her homely scent filled his nostrils, weighing down his eyelids and unwinding the stiff muscles as he slowly succumbed to the sleeping spell.

But something about this night seemed different. His instinct commanded his lethargic mind and foggy senses to stay alert, which puzzled Natsu greatly as he was just in bed with Lucy, and there were no immediate dangers around them because he had scented the air around her apartment previously as part of his routine.

He tried to pinpoint the cause, trusting the instinct which had saved him many times out in the wilderness and battlefields, and surprisingly found out that his blonde partner was still awake, the air around her buzzing with anticipation and nervousness.

If it was anyone else, they wouldn’t have found out anything from the blonde’s still posture and turned back. But he had been (illegally) sleeping next to her for quite some time now, he had long memorized her breathing patterns to know whether she was awake or not (a necessary skill that had saved him from those painful Lucy-kicks from time to time). And with that knowledge, he knew for sure she wasn’t asleep.

It’s odd that Lucy of all people was still awake at this time, her energy was even making him grown nervous, but he didn’t dare to voice out lest he lost his chance of sleeping in her bed for the night. Maybe she ate something funny and her aching tummy was what keeping her awake, or she was just feeling constipated, it happened sometimes, which was something she had drunkenly admitted to him after drinking with the alcoholic Cana.

Nevertheless, he laid still and waited for the weirdo to fall back to sleep for whatever reasons. But life was never easy as he soon felt the celestial wizard shifting her weight, gradually moving closer to his own until her hands planted firmly on each side of his head, the tips of her hair tickling his face.

Natsu was sweating bullets at this point but he was determined to hold strong on a relaxed facade. But Mavis, it was torturous to feel her hot breath fanning across his cheeks, honey vanilla scent with a mix of minty toothpaste overwhelming his senses as he struggled to not open his damn eyes out of curiosity.

And then out of nowhere, the feeling of something pillowy soft pressed against his stilled lips, albeit disappointingly quick, jarring him awake immediately and that’s how he found himself in this shocking and unbelievable circumstance.

Back to the present, Natsu watched his partner’s doe brown eyes growing impossibly large, red spreading like wildfire all over the milky white of her skin to the top of her cleavage, as she sputtered to find words.

However, of all things he expected her to say, he couldn’t understand for the life of him the reason his heart was flooded with overwhelming feeling of disappointment when she stammerly said this was a dream.

It’s shameful to admit that this was not the first time Natsu had such lucid and realistic dreams about his bombshell of a partner. Some of them borderline indecent as his suppressed feelings and desire for his partner seemingly roaring to life within the haven of his mind.

He wondered if his act of crawling into her bedroom in the first place was even real, or if it's just a figment of his hyperactive imagination and habitual routine. Maybe he was still at the guild, being knocked unconscious on the floor by Erza after brawling with Ice Princess, and he would soon wake up from this sweet dream any moment now.

Disappointment turned into frustration as Natsu bemoaned the hellish mental cycle he had masochistically subjected himself to by falling for his blonde celestial princess. If he couldn’t have her in real life, at least he could selfishly experience what they could have been within his mind.

“After all, Lucy will never like me back.” Fuck it.

It seemed he had voiced his thoughts out loud, when her parting lips slipped a confusing squeak, before he pulled her down to crush their lips together, teeth and all.

Dream Lucy was shy and stiff in front of his advancement, soft pillowy lips subjected to his own sucking and massaging as he encouraged her petals to move.

One of his tanned hands cupped the side of her jawline, thumb rubbing circular motion into her sensitive skin, alternately switching to capturing and rubbing her small ear, and her mouth soon fell open to let his wiry tongue eagerly slid in to explore her steaming wet orifice.

If he could forever have her sweet flavor imprinted on his taste buds, feeling her plush body molding every feminine curve to his own hard lines, he would give anything to never wake up from this sweet, indulging dream.

His lungs burned with the need for air from their heated lips lock, forcing Natsu to pull their face apart momentarily but not before giving a teasing suck to her plump bottom lips, a string of saliva stretched erotically between their gaping mouth as they panted hardly, greedily suckled in the much needed oxygen for their foggy minds.

This could easily be the best dream of his partner he had ever had before. Everything was so realistic that it sent euphoric tingles through his shivering heated body, down to the tips of his fingers that were still cupping and tracing Dream Lucy’s soft cheeks fondly.

Dream Lucy’s expression was all dazed and full of confusion as she looked down at him, pearly teeth sinking into her pink petal - a bad habit where she tended to gnaw the flesh to bloodiness when she’s trying to figure something out. It made him all the more filled with feral desire to break the habit with his persuading lips, wanting nothing more than to dove in that wet addicting cavern to pull the cutest mewls and moans from her once more.

“If this is all just a dream, please let me dream a little more” He managed to rasped out his selfish wish to any deities willing to listen, before he pulled her back down to mesh their mouths against one another.

Natsu’s other wandering hand slid from her bicep to follow the sensual curve of her round breast, before cupping a handful of pliant, overflowing flesh between his palm, giving it a hearty squeeze.

That’s when he felt small hands pushing off frantically against his frame, the most alarming phrase he ever heard cut through the still night “Natsu, stop!!”

Never before in any of his dreams did Lucy sound panic and full of confusion during their makeouts, if anything, she was all eager to reciprocate his attention and handsy, which would lead the dreams to a very steamy note and his boxers painfully tight the next morning.

Something was definitely wrong and the revelation had his arms slackened to let the blonde escape from his crushing hold before. Natsu watched as Lucy shuffled off him, hands covering her chest as if shielding her body from him, the action tugged something painfully in his chest as a reminder that the blonde might be uncomfortable with him now.

He was just glad that she still sat at the end of the bed and not running off to put even more distance between them. Biles rose up his throat and all he wanted was to run away from the fucked up situation where he almost jumped his “dream” girl without consent, and potentially burned to the ground any of his chances with the blonde.

After a moment of tense silence, it honestly jolted the fuck out of Natsu to have Lucy grasped his hand, her beautiful face pensive but redden all over like blooming rose as she quietly breathed out “I don’t understand..What make you act like that Natsu?”

He was sure his face was nearly aflame as the girl in front of him, jumbling mind frantically finding ways to wheeze out of this embarrassing situation. He tried tugging his hand out but the blonde had tightened her grip, shy expression now turned defiance and he just knew he wouldn’t find a way out of this until she knew the truth. Damn her stubbornness and his inability to refuse her.

“Geez Lucy..Are you really going to make me say it? Can’t you just figure it out yourself with that brilliant brain of yours?” His last attempt of redirecting the subject was futile as Lucy seemed to regain her confidence, both of her hands now moved to his shoulders, lifting to her knees and staring down at his hunched form “No Natsu. I want to -no, I need to hear you say it.”

Knowing this was already a losing battle from the start, Mavis forbid he would cave faster than the Ice Princess could strip with just a gaze into those molten pool of chocolate, Natsu decided to resign his fate and hoped for the best that this wouldn’t burn their relationship to the ground.

Hands running through his already messed up, he took a deep breath readying for his next words while petulantly turning his head away from the blonde, desperately hoped that it would somehow soften the pain if his dream girl decided to reject “Man, I’m never good with words ya know. But the truth is..I have sorta had feelings for ya for a while now.” And like a dam opened up, words kept spilling out of his mouth unhindered “And it’s not the normal feeling when I’m around others! There’s this sort of weird urge inside me of wanting to be around you all the time, wanna see ya laugh and smile and be happy, wanna..please you in any possible ways..That’s where those dreams came in and I sorta acted out..

Natsu badly wanted to clam up and disappear to wherever the hell his dragon father was, cause he definitely fucked up big time. But the frozen shocked expression and the impossibly widening gaze of Lucy’s doe brown eyes forced him to continue, trying to salvage anything left of their now potentially ruined friendship.

“Fuck..I didn’t mean to spew all of that and make ya uncomfortable Lucy. I..I meant what I said, but you can forget them. No-nothing has to change! We’d still be best friend and-“ He didn’t realize he was short of breath and body heating up out of embarrassment until he felt two cool palms pressed against his cheeks, effectively stopping his rambling.

“Natsu, it’s okay. Calm down and take a breath” Following the blonde’s instruction, he took a deep breath and felt his nerves calmed down significantly from the action. But he couldn’t bring himself to look into her beautiful brown eyes, afraid to see the disappointment and pity welled up in those orbs, so he kept his gaze resolute down his laps.

“Nastu, look at me..” The feel of her soft hands gently nudged his face up and her soft croon had Natsu reluctantly lifted his stare up to her. Instead of a pitiful expression, he was stunned to find Lucy was looking at him tenderly, an adoration-filled smile graced her pretty face, so much that he almost missed her next question “Why would you think I want to forget?”

Swallowing harshly, he contemplated on baring his heart, fearing that she would be chased away after hearing such reasons, but her non judgemental gaze and kind demeanor encouraged him: “It’s just..I would never fit in the type of guys you usually go on dates with. I know how much you like intelligence, gentleman-ty and calmness in your relationships, and I’m none of that. But I’m fine with not being more, as long as I can still be your friend, that’s enough”

He didn’t know what he expected at the end of his long rant, but the feeling of pillowy soft lips pressed momentarily against him was certainly not one. His Lucy came into focus again when they pulled apart, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck and her comfortable warm weight now settled neatly on his crossed legs.

“Oh Natsu, I thought those were what I wanted, but apparently you were what I needed. I..I also have feelings for you too, more than friends to be exact, and I was just late to realize that. So..so I hope you know hearing you say that really make me happy, and I don’t want to forget” The blazing blush adorning Lucy’s bashful face was oh so endearing, along with the rush of oxytocin coursing through his veins from her confession, had had him surging forward to captured her lips, arms tightening around her frame as he pulled them down to lay on her bed.

The kiss was more teeth than lips as they couldn’t fight the wide-stretch grins off their faces from the mutual reciprocated feelings. When the two of them pulled apart, Natsu couldn’t help but stare at the girl in front of him in amazement, head still reeling with the fact that he had just kissed his best friend and they would definitely be doing that repeatedly, and more, now that she’s his girl.

He was certain the dopey grin etched on her face mirroring his perfectly and he gathered her closer in his arms, dropping a chaste peck on the blonde head laying on his bicep and inhaling her wonderful scent deeply just because he could. “Sorry for groping you earlier without permission. I really didn’t mean to and thought it was all a dream” He trailed the back of his unoccupied hand along her cheeks, knuckles slightly rough against smooth skin, a content warmth spreading throughout his chest cavity as he watched Lucy nuzzling into the contact.

“You’re so sweet. And I wasn’t upset earlier, just surprised is all” A lone finger with pink-painted tip absentmindedly dragged down his chest, pulling an involuntary shiver from him from the ticklish sensation, and a dormant carnal desire was stirred awaked in the depth of his belly as Natsu focused on Lucy’s plump pinkesh flesh being bitten in between her teeth. “I..I wouldn’t mind letting you do it again! Just not right now since I’m not ready.”

Her outburst was unexpected and he chuckled heartily at the way she buried her heated cheeks into his chest, feeling adoration and happiness swelled up his heart at her cute display “Damn Lucy, you’re such a cute weirdo. My cute weirdo, and you betcha I’ll hold onto that. You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to “please” and worship you in every way. Just let me know when you’re ready and say the words.”

He unashamedly admitted, his inner dragon giving an approval growl, obviously took pride in the fact that he managed to make Lucy squirm by his candid words. An unmistakable mouth-watering scent of arousal emitting from her had nearly made him lose control.

But he would be strong and force his insurmountable desire to covet and smother the girl in his arms with love and darkening pleasure. After all, they had all the time in the world to explore now that he finally got the girl of his dream to be his and his only.

[autumnsxxangel]

SandRay are an homage to Wong Kar-Wai's Happy Together and in this essay I will..

...actually explain it because I see people catching his homage's to Western queer media, but not really his shout outs to Eastern queer media.

I assumed there would be allusions to Happy Together when I first saw the trailer, but this last episode centered around Ray really cemented it for me. After all, why would P'Jojo reference all these Western queer shows and not talk about what is probably the most iconic piece of Eastern queer media ever?

Wong Kar-Wai & Happy Together

For some background information, Wong Kar-Wai is a famous and insanely influential Hong Kong filmmaker. If you're a film nerd, you probably know who he is and recognize his style. If you like film and metas, I would recommend watching some of his stuff because afterwards, you'll realize just how much influence he still has on modern media, especially in Asia. Stylistically, he's known for rich color grading; thematic usage of music; an unending sense of nostalgia, heartbreak, and missed opportunities; and dialogue that mean nothing on the surface because everything meaningful is boiling just under, left unsaid (If you've watched Everything Everywhere, All At Once, the entire actress universe sequence was an homage to Wong Kar-Wai). His actors always do a phenomenal job because so much of what they need to portray can't be communicated through words. It makes sense why SandRay, aka FirstKhao, were chosen to represent Happy Together as they are the strongest actors out of the group.

Happy Together, simply summarized, is about two men, Ho Po-Wing and Lai Yiu-Fai, who are in a very tumultuous relationship. They end up in Argentina because they wanted to visit the waterfall that's on a lamp that they own. They get lost, end up using all their money, and have to figure out a way to get back to Hong Kong. While there, they break up, get back together, and break up again.

The movie was released in 1997 and is still ranked as one of the best queer movies of all time. The two main characters are played by Tony Leung and Leslie Cheung. You might recognize Tony Leung as Simu Liu's dad in Shang-Chi. Leslie Cheung was in Farewell, My Concubine, and was famously a bisexual man with a long term male partner. This is significant because it was virtually unheard of to be out and open at that time (he made his relationship public in 1997 though he had mentioned bisexuality in earlier years), especially in Hong Kong which was, and still is, very homophobic. Leslie received a lot of hate for his sexuality and androgyny. (If you're interested in learning more about Leslie as a queer Asian figure, this is a good video essay that goes over his work and his life).

Sand as Lai Yiu-Fai

Fai's, and in turn Sand's, character can be summed up by one line, "One thing I never told Ho Po-Wing was that I didn't want him to recover so fast. Those were our happiest days."

Both Fai and Sand are very static, straightforward characters. They stay above board for the most part and work a variety of jobs to survive. They have their morals about what is right and wrong, which unfortunately is both of their downfalls.

In Happy Together, Wing breaks up with Fai because he is bored with the relationship. He basically says, "I'm bored being with you. Let's break up. If we happen to meet again, we can try again." Then he leaves Fai stranded on the side of a highway.

Later, he reappears in Fai's life. The first encounter is a fight, much like Sand and Ray's first meeting in the bathroom. The second encounter is because Wing gets beaten up. He goes to Fai because he knows Fai will feel obligated to take care of him and he does. It becomes the beginning of their rekindled relationship.

Similarly, Sand has a strong sense of obligation. There are already metas out there about how Sand has a bit of a hero complex. He sees Ray too drunk to drive and he had to step in. He doesn't just take the keys and order a taxi. No, he takes the keys and drives Ray. Sand sees Ray being all sad and pathetic and he can't stop himself from helping. It makes him feel useful. It makes him feel needed.

Both of these men are caretakers. They show affection by providing care. Sand ends up cooking for Ray just as Fai cooks for Wing even when he's sick. As an added bonus, they both make fried rice.

Both Sand and Fai are characters that stand completely still. Ray and Wing always know where to find them. Sand can always be found at YOLO and Fai is at his apartment. Because of this, Ray and Wing come and go as they please. They know that Sand and Fai will take them back...until they finally don't.

Ray as Ho Po-Wing

Starting on a base level, both characters are bratty, needy, promiscuous, spoiled, and selfish. But most importantly, they both share a love of fluffy cardigans.

(I also have a theory they keep putting Ray in wife beaters as an homage to the 90's HK cinema style because otherwise...I just don't understand why, as a rich asshole, he's always in wife beaters. By Thai BL logic, he should be in shirts with too many buttons unbuttoned.)

Wing and Ray are both the ones controlling the pace and direction of the relationship. They come when they need someone to nurture their wounds, both physically and metaphorically. They leave when they're bored or have things they deem more important. They both initiate intimacy and won't take no for an answer.

Wing does this by first trying to join Fai on the couch and then chasing after him to the bed and begging him to let them sleep together.

Ray does it by continuously getting Sand to get in the car with him and then using his puppy dog eyes.

They are both also very, very pouty.

Wing's line is "We could start over". He says it every time he comes back after he's the one that ends the relationship. Fai always fights taking him back, but he always does it anyway.

Ray doesn't really have a line yet (unless you count his "na na naa~"s) but he bats his eyelashes and so far Sand has given into him every time. Sand keeps trying to set boundaries, but the moment Ray begs a little bit, Sand crumbles like a house of cards and lets Ray have whatever he wants.

Relationship Parallels

Wong Kar-Wai is known for making movies about star crossed lovers who are meant for each other, but aren't meant to be together.

Like Wing and Fai, Sand and Ray fill in each other's cracks in a way that complements each other. However, because of the nature of the cracks themselves, them complementing each other is exactly what makes the relationship so toxic. One stays and one goes. One takes and one gives. One is steady and one is flighty.

Most of what I wanted to say about the parallels between their relationships is in the character comparison. What I'm more interested in is the future of SandRay's relationship, especially if they continue to parallel Wing and Fai's in Happy Together.

Obviously, Wing and Fai don't end up together at the end. It wouldn't be a Wong Kar-Wai movie if they did. What is interesting is that Fai's relationship with Wing eventually pushes him into becoming something angry and spiteful. Once Wing heals, Fai knows that he'll become bored and want to leave. In an attempt to get him to stay, he steals and hides Wing's passport which is insane because they are both gay men stuck in a foreign country where they don't speak the language.

Wing, of course, leaves anyway.

There is also a third character, Chang, whom Fai ended up liking. These new feelings are what eventually pushes Fai to leave Argentina and move on from Wing and move on with his life.

The question is, if SandRay follows that same path as Happy Together, what will be the passport that Sand tries to hold over Ray and who will be Sand's Chang?

Stylistic Parallels

Smoking

Making Ray and Sand smoke is definitely an homage to Happy Together with the added bonus of being a metaphor. For the most part, we rarely see characters, especially main characters, smoke in Asian media because smoking is reserved for 'bad' characters.

Cigarettes in Happy Together represent boredom. Fai and Wing smoke at the beginning before they rekindle their relationship because they are just moving through life. Once Fai and Wing get back together, cigarettes stop making an appearance. It isn't until their relationship started deteriorating that we see the men smoking again.

This can also be said about Sand Ray's relationship. They started their 'involvement' with cigarettes. However, the last time we actually see them smoking is in ep 2 right before they hook-up. Since then, we have not seen either of them smoking. This probably means that we'll see one or both of them smoking again when their relationship starts to break down.

(In the preview for ep 5, there is an ashtray in the background on the balcony so let's see if Boston finding out about them is a catalyst for them to start breaking down.)

And of course, there is the added homoeroticism of asking for a light.

Ray's Opening and Closing Scenes

Ray's episode is really what made me go "I see you P'Jojo".

Ray's episode starts with a shot of him isolated and in emotional pain. The camera is claustrophobically close and it keeps moving around. He has a little voiceover opening. It's calm, it's contemplative, it's a little existential, and it is irrevocably sad. If that is not a Wong Kar-Wai staple, then idk what is. Even the song that starts playing gives me 80s, 90s Cantopop vibes.

Ray talks about how Mew being his emergency contact and the one he goes to. Fai talks about how Wing always comes back to him and says "Let's start over".

The movie and the episode ends with both of them once again isolated, alone. They've been through an emotional journey and they've technically moved on. But there's always the idea of not being able to fully let go in Wong Kar-Wai's movie. So just like how Fai has physically removed himself from Wing, but not emotionally, has Ray actually fully removed himself from Mew?

Cinematography

Then there's just a collection of scenes that reminded me very heavily of Happy Together and Wong Kar-Wai's style. I would have added pictures from his other movies for comparison, but Tumblr only lets me put 30 images in a post and I don't want to make a 2nd post.

This scene is specifically from the 1st trailer so I hope they keep it in the show.

This one I call the inevitability of falling. Both Sand and Fai realize they're fully committed to their decision to take care of Ray and Wing here.

The end title card

Actually, all of the end title cards give very Wong Kar-Wai vibes. Look at that saturated, neon color grading. Look at the elongated shots. The intense feeling of isolation.

I'm assuming we'll get all the characters at one point, but so far it looks like the end credit cards indicate who the narrator of each episode is.

Anyway, that's it for me! Sorry it was so long and rambling. I tried to organize my thoughts but as I was thinking, more thoughts would pop up and I'd get distracted. If you made it this far, thanks for reading!

[cosmic-spider]

Jax x mexican fem reader

He finds you accent funny( if you have one.) especially when you pronounce stores and other thing.

 He finds it funny when you don’t remember the name of something and you just say  agárra me el dese.(get me the thing) it makes him giggle a bit every time.

On the other hand, he does hate it whenever you take off your shoe and start hitting him with it. (He still doesn’t understand how a slipper or a shoe can become a lethal weapon in less than two seconds.)

He still doesn’t understand how you’re able to hit him perfectly on the head when he’s trying to run away from you before you hit him.( later on starts to ask you how to do it so you can hit other people from far away for a prank)

He loves it whenever you sing in your language either in front of the others, or even just by yourself in your room when you think no one is listening to you.( Not that he will ever tell you he dose)

He keeps your room key very close to him at all times in case he hears you start singing in your room by yourself so he can just come in and or peep through the door and listen to you sing.

I also find it fascinating on how many different ways you can dance just one song. Still doesn’t understand how you can move your feet so fast or so fluently especially your hips.

Almost ever fight the two of you have is just you getting pissed off of his jokes, and you cussing him out in Spanish, which were some reason Caine has not censored. Then him yelling at you saying “I don’t speak Taco Bell! “And then you just get pissed off and just start hitting him with your slippers/shoe.

He does love your cooking on the other hand not that he would actually tell you directly. Every now and then he’ll give a comment, saying it was good, or nice. Will eat through the pain of the spicy food. ( Will be drinking so much milk and water that he can find the moment he get out of you eyesight.)

Still doesn’t understand the nickname you call him by conejo morado.( purple bunny)

As a s/o

Loves it whenever you come to his defense and cuss whoever is bothering him. It warms is heart seeing you do that. You’re actually defending. He covered his face whenever you ask him if he’s OK since he’s blushing under the covered up part of his face with his hand.

Find that funny whenever something goes wrong on the dates that you make for the two of you.

Some of the stories about how you grow up and how your siblings active during parties in for piñata’s terrifying him.

Especially since he’s not a kid person. He could just imagine the horror trying to take care of kids that Literally run around and hit each other over candy that comes out of a piñata.( Wonders how you even survive that growing up)

Find the face smashing into birthday cake, tradition hilarious. Wants to try it on you until you told him the story where you literally gave your cousin a blackeye because of it.( things twice about ruining your birthdays now.)

Purposely does things to piss you off just so you can cause I’m out in Spanish he just stays there and looks at you with a smirk, face and flirts with you more to get your even more pissed off try to run away afterward, but gets hit in the head with a slipper.

Absolutely adores it  whenever you make  pan dulce (Mexican sweet breed.) Hid favorite is conchas, galletas, cono, y poquito with some coffee in the morning.

Finds the stories, you tell him about cookouts, funny and entertaining, especially on long and boring days that he has or when you tell him that someone got into a fight.

Both of you start drama and problems for the others. Then watch it on falls on the sidelines. 

Is always impressed on how fast you can run whenever someone gets abstracted. ( like he’s a rabbit and he can run pretty fast, but damn, can you out run him any day)

Hates it whenever you start the cleaning ritual every Sunday or what you believe. It’s a Sunday.(especially when you start singing and blasting music out of nowhere, or when you go into his room, even though he had all the keys and other ways to get into his room.) Its his nightmare