#there are like a million of these. you can follow every major plot bit back and at the very start of 90% of them it's just one person doing

[bitchthefuck1]

One of the things that stands out the most to me about succession on the rewatch is how many hugely significant plot points only happen because at some point someone was feeling petty.

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 57 – Pale by Wildbow

I have been reading Pale as it released from the very beginning in 2020 until the end. As such I am clearly suffering from a severe and acute case of Stockholm Syndrome, and you shouldn’t trust a single thing I say. But to try and step back a bit – Pale is the best 4 million word serial I have ever read, and very nearly even good.

The story follows Avery, Lucy and Verona, precocious and for various reasons marginalized teenagers in a decaying Canadian ski town. They are recruited by a council of the various ghouls, ghosts and goblins who live in the shadows of the town to be its Official Witches and investigate the mysterious death of the Carmine Beast, the greater spirit who stood as judge over all contests of struggle and violence in the region (less in the hopes that find anything and more so that any nosy outsiders can be truthfully told it has already been handled). Being of a protagonist-ey bent, they rapidly exceed their new patrons’ expectations, especially the ones among them who had a hand in the murder. After that it’s basically just literally several million words of things escalating further and further out of anyone’s control.

Or, I kid, but it really is impossible to talk about Pale without forgrounding its length and medium, I think. This is a serial which ran continuously with at least one update a week for more than three years, and (to grab another story about child wizards to compare) is roughly four complete Harry Potter series’ in length. Beyond being an entirely superhuman accomplishment as far as writing productivity goes, this had unavoidable effects on the story as it was being told. It also makes it literally impossible to provide anything like a complete plot summary in a review short enough that anyone will read it. So just take my word that there’s a lot of it, and we’ll come back to the others length-related issues.

This is an urban fantasy book, and a kitchen sink one at that – it’s clearly one of the underlying principles of the setting that it should, insofar as possible, be able to fit every type of storybook monster and horror movie plot and twilight zone episode within it somewhere. Underlying and ordering it all is the axiom that (almost) nothing magical can lie. The world will only respond to your word if its actually worth something – contradicting or gainsaying yourself harms your karma and sets the universe against you, breaking a sworn oath is an open invitation to fates worse than death. The natural consequence of this is that every practitioner (wizard, basically) worth shit has been trained from birth to be an asshole genie and most of the really powerful Others (catch-all term for supernatural creatures) come by it naturally.

None of which is new – this is the second serial Wildbow has written in the setting – but they do combine to make a bunch of amateur detectives investigating a murder really, really fun. The heroines POVs also offers a great way to introduce the setting to the reader, or, at least, provides an excellent justification for in character exposition dumps – and to be clear, this is a series with lore. I consider this an absolute win, but if you don’t like elaborate asides about random monsters or marginal otherworlds that clearly exist only because the author thought they were cool, then this is not the series for you. (On the other hand, most of them are absolutely cool). The world is vast, and the story is full of asides and tangents about things that could easily sustain a novel in their own right.

The other way the exposition is provided is through occasional Extra Materials mini-chapters (quite regular during the beginning of the story, less so as it goes on), which are just excerpts of in-universe documentation – specifically things that the protagonists or occasionally another major character would have been reading. Everything from class notes to chatlogs to investigation summaries as written by one of the girls to local social media posts to a dozen other things. Surprisingly good graphic design on most of them too, which really helps sell them as in-universe artifacts and as ways to characterize the implied authors/readers. It’s very much to the serial’s detriment that these fade away as it goes on.

The series has three protagonists, and chapters alternate between each of their POVs and internal narration. It actually does an excellent job differentiating between Lucy, Avery and Verona and giving them their own distinct voices and making each compelling in their own right (not that I don’t have my favourite, but). While the book’s not perfect about it, on the whole they mostly feel like unusually bright and dedicated teenagers (and increasingly incredibly traumatized child soldiers with variably healthy coping mechanisms), rather than short and legally disabled adults.

As is fairly common with web serials, the normal chapters are intercut with interludes from the perspective of some more minor character. Across all Wildbow’s works, these are honestly where he really shines most, I think. They’re each essentially short stories introducing and providing the history and characterization of someone from their own point of view, in the process more often than not totally recontextualizing their role in the story so far, with how they advance the actual plot almost incidental half the time. If I wanted to sell someone on the setting with as little investment as possible, I would probably just link them the first interlude – the first 90% of the chapter is a really quite good standalone horror story about a totally normal kinda shitty kid getting drawn into and being consumed by an occult living ritual (with its own creepy song! And cannibalism!)

Wildbow is actually an incredibly gifted character writer - both as a web serial author (but on the whole that’s not really any great accomplishment) and just, generally. Despite having an absolutely comically sprawling cast (like, dozens, minimum. If you told me hundreds I’d believe you), he manages to give the vast, vast majority of ones that matter their own distinct aesthetics, voices, and even their own little character arcs and plotlines. Even as much as I complain about bloat and pacing, it never stops being a joy to just spend time in any of the three protagonists’ heads, and I was deeply invested in them achieving their dreams in a way I rarely if ever am for fictional characters.

Now, the complaining. Wildbow is, as I said, one of the best character writers I know working today. The same cannot be said for his skill writing action scenes – which is incredibly unfortunate, because there are so, so fucking many of them. Some serve a real narrative purpose or showcase some bit of characterization, but most could honestly be cut by 90% and you wouldn’t lose anything except wordcount – even the ones which should be there tend to drag on past their natural end because of the book’s love of making things as desperate and hardwon as possible. Which I wouldn’t necessarily mind but like, there are individual action set-pieces that are longer than some published novels. At a certain point exhaustion sets in. If I had to guess, I’d put this down to the fact that when you’re writing 10k words a week and don’t have any concrete ideas of where to go next with the plot worked out, just extending the action scene and throwing some new monsters or puzzles or reversals of fortune at the heroes can eat up a chapter and buy you some time – but just because it’s an understandable consequence of the serial format doesn’t mean I need to like it.

Perhaps reading far too much into it, but if I had to guess, I would say the story’s more structural issues stem from the same thing. Pale was originally planned as a (relatively) short and (relatively) light serial, but in the process of writing rapidly ballooned past all planning and expectation. Which like, as I said, I just enjoyed spending time in the various protagonists’ heads and seeing them develop, but at a certain point you can absolutely start to see the plot starting to outpace all planning and spinning off in multiple entirely new directions that were pretty clearly informed by whatever idea Wildbow was turning over in his head at the time. Sometimes this worked out very nicely – I still love Avery’s whole Thunder Bay/accidental love triangle arc. Sometimes it’s a bit mixed – Wonderkand is a very fun idea, but tonally and aesthetically is kind of a mismatch with 90% of the rest of the setting. Sometimes, well – did anyone like the extended Aurum/Dark Fall trial sequence? But even aside from individual arc quality, if you are someone who cares even slightly about things like ‘pacing’, ‘narrative discipline’, or ‘plot points/foreshadowing not going in weird directions or fading in the background because the author just forgot/kind of lost interest in them in the course or writing a novella weekly for three years’ then oh boy is this not the story for you.

A similar sort of thing happens, I think, with the story’s themes. Pale is from the beginning very explicitly concerned with ideas of punitive versus rehabilitative justice, an already slightly fraught use of the subjugation/binding of magical creatures as a metaphor for oppression and colonization, and just generally with the idea of building a better world in the hidden corners of the current one. The story, well, remains very interested with those subjects, but having any coherent viewpoint on them falls to the wayside compared to coming up with ways to advance the plot or dilemmas to throw at the protagonists or just vivid bits of imagery in the moment. This more or less generalizes – I kind of get the sense that Wildbow set out wanting to write something that goes against his narrative reflexes/habits, but as the story went on and the writing piled up they just kind of crept back in. Certainly for a story that take pains at first to emphasize how hellish and cruel long term binding and confinement are, the happy ending involves a lot of various cruel and torturous prisons that are portrayed as somewhere between necessary and just. The big final villain also more or less works on a character level, but thematically is basically the single worst choice of anyone the protagonists faced down across the entire story.

I’m accentuating the negative here, and part of that is just because I’m a miserable husk of a human, but it’s also just that Pale’s real problems tend to be structural, while its high points are much more particular and specific, and hard to sell without immense amounts of context – there are so many random side characters who get more compelling stories than the actual protagonists of some books I’ve read this year, and a half dozen scenes that are pretty permanently burned into my memory. My favourite dynamic involves a character whose only present for, like, 3% of the story max.

At one point the story was intended to end with Arc 13, followed by a hiatus and then a sequel. I still think this would have been the correct choice, even that ending would rip my fucking heart out and also possibly get Wildbow literal bombs mailed to his house. Still – if you can stand that sort of ending and also are the sort of person to read million-word web serials to begin with, that would be my recommendation. Get to that point, and then decide for yourself how invested you are in spending time in the heads of the protagonists and in the world. Or read Pact, which is like a fifth of the size and ostensibly set in the same setting – though leans so much further into horror than urban fantasy for tone that functionally there’s a lot of discrepancies.

All of which said, Verona Lucy and Avery are going to live in my head for the rest of my life and I make no apologies about this.

[grayintogreen]

Pinned Post II: Electric Boogaloo

Hi, I'm Chris! I'm updating my pinned post to be more streamlined so here we go.

I liveblog Critical Role every week and tag with "cr spoilers" up until Monday. This tag also gets used for Candela Obscura and any one-shots. Dimension 20 spoilers are labeled “d20 spoilers.”

This is primarily a Critical Role and Dimension 20 blog, but I contain multitudes. You will see a lot of random shit depending on my mood. I’m really into Hazbin Hotel right now, for example, so my blog is kinda inundated in that. Honestly I might as well admit I am also a Hazbin blog at this point. Sorry, women.

I write a lot of fic, which can be found on my AO3 here. I primarily write fic centered on minor/supporting characters. I'm also the author of the life in the margins of redemption and red roses and dead things series- more about these below.

I have a ko-fi if you'd like to give me a tip for any reason.

My two big series are as follows:

red roses and dead things (or Roseverse), a canon divergent Hazbin Hotel (goes AU after 1x06) series that deals with working on continuing the story while I wait for new material. It is lore-heavy, Team as Family, and redemption-focused with focus on Huskerdust, Alastor and his deal, Lucifer and his relationship to Heaven and Hell and his family, and Charlie continuing to pursue her dreams. Also contains significant amounts of Helluva Boss because we’re not beholden to copyright here.

life in the margins of redemption (or LitMoR), a For Want of a Nail CR2 Canon Divergent series, is a duology (with additional side stories) that takes the alternate path outlined in the Harvest's Close session notes- Cree rescuing the Nein from the Gentleman's wrath should they betray him- and takes it a step further with Cree reviving Molly on the Glory Run Road and traveling with the Nein in the hopes of finding a way to bring Lucien back. It is extremely Canon Divergent, but does feature CR2 plots under radically different circumstances and with additional characters. It's worldbuilding heavy, character-driven, often dark, but has a guaranteed happy ending. You may heard of it as "that 1.5 million word fanfic series."

It is not canon compliant with TNEOL as I had finished OUADYA before TNEOL came out. While I use some elements from the novel, the backstory presented for Lucien and the Tombtakers in the series is entirely different.

More details, including links to the fics, beneath the cut.

THE MAIN STORIES.

Note that while the series features Fjorester, Beauyasha, and Widomauk as primary ships, it is above all a gen fic that focuses on the platonic relationships even more than the romantic ones. I cannot in good faith rec this fic to you if you HATE any of those ships, but I can say if you're indifferent/just want a plot and platonic relationship focus, this fic will appeal to you.

once upon a damn-you-all. Cree saves Molly on the Glory Run Road, sending the Nein's trajectory off the rails in a story about redemption, change, fate, and team-building. Also Molly having to contend with the Somnovem.

you can't deny high noon. The Nein continue their journey with an additional member- a reluctant, captive Lucien- as they continue to face numerous challenges while enemies lurk in the background. While OUADYA is mostly original plotlines, this fic follows the majority of the major plot beats of canon albeit a bit twisted around and out of order.

THE SIDE STORIES

While not necessary to read in order to understand the main duology, I feel like not reading them causes a loss of impact, as often events/characters from them are referenced in the main narrative and having more perspective on the events adds more oomph. This is an extremely detail-oriented series and barely anything goes in without some thought put into it. For the sake of not overwhelming my audience, I'm only listing the side stories I think are actually important to the overall narrative, but please do read the others if you have the time.

there's something divine in the way screams can sound. The events of OUADYA as seen through the eyes of someone trapped in the Astral Sea- or Lucien's utter breakdown, now with context. Introduces several backstory elements that become super relevant in YCDHN.

as in the painted parlor, ophelia dreams. The story of how Ophelia came to the Run, became a Mardoon, and gave up her son.

all of the dreamers defying convention. A fic that takes place in the two month gap between the two duology stories and bridges the two narratives.

OTHER LINKS

original character guide. A guide to the many original characters featured in the series.

[etrosgate]

i have a bad computer and poor hand mobility. do you have any reccs for lets plays of ffxiii

unfortunately im a big baby who hesitates watching any video about ffxiii because i'm afraid they'll say something that'll make me dis-proportionally mad and make 1 million tweets about it so i don't really have any recs for ones with commentary. truly sorry about that.

anyways.

there actually is a fairly big difference between the japanese and english audio tracks, as they've actually gone in and like reanimated the cutscenes a bit, for lip syncing but Also more major stuff like changing the facial expressions of lightning and hope from smiling to not-smiling for the english release (in an attempt to compensate for cultural differences in stoicism apparently???). there's also two places where a jp pop song plays that are replaced with different tracks in the eng release. i personally prefer the eng version (even if i do really miss the smiles 🥺) but just so you know.

unfortunately im a big baby who hesitates watching any video about ffxiii because i'm afraid they'll say something that'll make me dis-proportionally mad and make 1 million tweets about it so i don't really have any recs for playthroughs with commentary. truly sorry about that. i'll grow up someday.

so as far as non-commentary playthroughs go:

this playthrough covers some post-game stuff and all the datalogs. there's some good stuff in those, but a lot of the entries early on (and especially dealing with the main plot) are a summary of events you just experienced and trying to read them all can drag down the pacing.

this playthrough skips datalogs and just covers the main story (there isn't much narratively in post-game so if you're not playing it, you won't lose out on much if you decide to skip it)

If you watch something without datalogs, I've made a little terminology guide that'll hopefully make the opening to the game waaay easier to follow (as it's pretty confusing on first viewing). actually it might even help a lot even with datalogs.... whatever. i really do recommend it.

for cutscene compilations:

all in one video w/english voice acting and subtitles, and it includes boss fights.

playlist of cutscenes w/english va and subtitles but no fights. also it's missing the final cutscene (likely due to copyright from the song that plays) so make sure to watch it here

another playlist of cutscenes but w/japanese va and eng subtitles.

idk if i'd recommend it as your first watch, but this playlist has the japanese cutscenes with fan translated eng subtitles of the jp audio (as it does have some differences from the localization).

SIDE NOTE: there's two pretty important optional cutscenes in the game, most people get the first but even compilations tend to miss the second. so when the party are about to go back to cocoon after being on pulse for a while, make sure you've seen this one (with vanille and hope) and this one (with fang and sazh). you can watch them afterwards of course but that is when they take place.

ANYWAYS after you watch any playthrough, i Highly recommend watching a speedrun of the game (like this one) to really see the depths of the combat system! they use few glitches so pretty much every fight is done through pure skill, so it's truly the best place to see what this system is capable of (and hear some great analysis of it in the commentary). and they're just fun to watch in general.

hope any of this helps ❤️

[dysiver]

'that's the same person' WHAT WHAT DID I MISS?!

me every time I explain lore to anons

anyways

Albert was a Crusader of the church since 500 years ago. He was picked up from the same village Dys woke up in after he last died and forgot all his memories. He was born in that village and lived with his family there for years until he showed the potential of being able to wield holy magic. He was the oldest of four siblings, and since his village was so far away from the capitol he agreed to join the church if they would aid his village from demon attacks.

The church agreed to protect his family, and so he left his home.

For four hundred years Albert was fighting demons and eliminating their ranks. He was, and is, the most powerful crusader the church was able to create.

The reason why his world was being attacked by demons was because Baal set foot on it. Baal is the creator of all demons, and he is the seed his father sends to worlds where the church has already been established to spread "evil". Baal is Lucifer's (or Lucy) firstborn and he follows his father's word unconditionally. Which is funny cuz Lucifer does the same with his, aka God.

Because Gods are constantly fighting for territory, they expand their believers by creating new worlds or conquering worlds that Dexon (Dys' dad) already created and set life in. They do this because the higher their influence the stronger they are, so the more people believe in them, the more powerful they can be.

So God acts as the "good" in the worlds he conquers, while Lucy acts as the "evil". They play those roles to fool humans or the people who decide to believe in them, that way, they have a never-ending cycle of believers since if you believe in God, then you have to believe in the evil he's fighting, Lucy. Basically, Lucy plays the role of the villain to keep them alive, and he does this because he loves God above all else and wants to be the only one he needs.

Baal does it because of the same reason. (In case it wasn't clear enough, the majority of this revolves around transgenerational trauma and also the theory of intergenerational trauma. It is a core element based in this world)

Baal has been alive for millions of years and he is far too powerful to simply manifest in worlds that aren't ready yet for God-like beings to decent, because of this he needs a vessel.

Albert (who has been fighting Baal and destroying his armies while Baal has fun creating chaos) happens to be the perfect vessel for him. He is the only living being in that world that would be able to handle a fraction of his power without destroying the core body.

The purer the soul and heart, the more it can withstand a demonic possession. But for a demon to be successful in possessing someone, that person's heart has to break completely. That way they cannot fight the possession.

So Baal starts his plotting and the first thing he does is corrupt the church and send Albert in long, hopeless journeys in which he cannot win no matter what. He does this for years, until finally giving him a bit of hope by making it seem like the demons were finally gone, and just as Albert is finally getting ready to go back home, Baal attacks Albert's village, and the attack kills his whole family. From his siblings and dad to his nephews and nieces, everyone died. Worse of all, Albert found out that the reason why the attack succeded was that the church took away the barriers that kept his village safe and also the guards since it was a waste for them to be there in such a remote village.

Albert loses everyone and is betrayed by the church that he serves. This breaks him, and so Baal is now able to possess him. Once Baal takes possession of someone, he pretty much devours their soul and they become a part of him, that's why he is able to blend in right away, cuz he obtains their memories and mannerisms.

The Albert we meet when Dys wakes up is already Baal and has been for at least a hundred years. He is getting ready to finally bring his father into this world to complete the cycle and make this world their own like they do with every other world they take over.

The reason why Dys is even in that world is because Baal snatched him from the world Adriene placed Dys in after he died. He did so because Dys is an unawakened Death God and Baal needs an unawakened God's body cuz they are the only ones that can withstand being Lucy's vessel.

[chrisevansluv]

it’s because they know deep down she’s the “perfect match” for him. she is exactly what he’s been saying he wants in a woman to a T. firstly she’s so aggressively his type. brown eyes? check. brown hair? check. big boobs? check. yoga ass? check. spiritual interests? check. presents as well read and sophisticated? check. artsy? check. being non-american and therefore “exotic”? check. then on top of that you add that HE followed her first? all the action has been from HIS side? because you know she’d probably still probably be with lucas bravo right no if he hadn’t followed her on twitter back in 2020. oh baby. they’re fucking scared. they know there’s a real chance he’s going to wife her up and have her be the mother of his kids. then there’s the fact that they were so fucking sure he was gonna receive the backlash of his lifetime for the age gap situation but it backfired so bad because they can’t get on code for five seconds and the general public is suffering from age gap discourse fatigue (they went public at JUST right time i swear) and also he’s a rich white man. that letter and those flyers and how his fandom has now gained a reputation rivalling the spn and k-pop stans? oh i KNOW their egos are hurting. 💀 played themselves with that letter because all the general public that care sympathize with him and her, the age gap is barely mentioned. man is untouchable fr fr. i know megan is smirking every day lmaooo.// There are millions of girls on the street who fit Chris' physical type, brown hair, brown eyes, exotic looking, spiritual and love to do yoga, love dogs and babies etc... These are superficial checks. What this fandom does not accept is neither Alba nor age gap, her and her friends' problematic behavior, their disgusting tweets. You need to be extra careful when dating someone with more reputation than yourself because the internet is forever. If he wants, he can marry this girl today, at this hour, no one can prevent him. Those who think that this fandom is trying to prevent a possible marriage or "serious" relationship, those who talk with the taste of "He is will be marry to her, cry harder lmaooo", you are no different from those who go to extremes in this fandom. Chris nor Alba are not innocent. You have become a "side" against the crazy people in the fandom but your common sense has been lost. If the "serious" relationship continues or marriage happens, of course, there be those who will lose their minds, but the general majority will say, "Married with this girl who is friends with people with racist and problematic discourses, congratulations to him" and they will move on to other "internet boyfriend".

Totally disagree. Acting like his fandom only cares about her being racist is a big reach. A year ago, no one knew about the tweets and posts, yet everybody was hating on her and calling her all sorts of names just because the POSSIBILITY of Chris dating her was on the table. When Chris was the one who was into a girl that played teenage roles and looked like one.

His fans saw how irrational it was to be hating on her for no other reason, other than their own projections on the situation, so they dig deeper to find problematic shit from the past (because everybody has done/said problematic shit in the past, even Chris), so their hate can be a bit more justified. Plot twist: it was not, and it's being called out by people outside the fandom.

"He will marry to her, cry harder" I only said it's a possibility, just like them breaking up next month. My talk goes more to: "Cry harder, and hate on her, because your fav is still dating her". And if some people aren't able to deal with that statement, the problem is on them and not me.

You definitely are on that side of the fandom who hates the fact that Chris ever laid his eyes on her, just by the way you wrote such a long essay to justify why you hate on her. And with how you tried to "minimize" that she's his type? Yeah, there are millions of girls that look and are that way, but he had been chasing Alba for a year and that's who he's dating now. So what else there is to discuss regarding that?

Like you said, "cry harder", but keep crying somewhere else that isn't my blog.

[trylkstopocket]

A wave of A.I. experts left Google, DeepMind, and Meta—and the race is on to build a new, more useful generation of digital assistants

Alexa, what’s the future of digital assistants? I don’t how Alexa would answer that question. But looking at the number of top A.I. minds who have recently left big tech companies to create well-funded startups dedicated to building a new-breed of digital assistants aimed at being useful for business, a golden era of digital work companions is likely to be around the corner.

Among this new crop of digital startups is Adept AI Labs. The company, which emerged from “stealth mode” earlier this year with $65 million in initial venture capital funding, stands out for its founding team. They include a group of researchers from Google Brain who in 2017 invented the A.I. architecture known as “The Transformer.” This algorithmic design has underpinned a huge number of A.I. advances, especially in natural language processing, over the past five years. Now, the team that created the Transformer thinks the same basic idea can be used to create more capable, general assistants that will be able to work alongside people to help perform a wide range of business tasks.

“The problem we’ve carved out is how to get machine to collaborate with humans and actually build things for them,” says Ashish Vaswani, Adept’s co-founder and chief scientist. Vaswani was the lead author on the paper that introduced the Transformer. He says what Adept is building is not simply a better chat bot. “We want to figure out how to get machines to perform actions for people, not just have conversations with them.”

Vaswani says the software Adept is building will learn through human feedback, not just by ingesting a lot of pre-existing data from text, which is how most large language A.I. systems are trained today. David Luan, Adept’s co-founder and CEO, says that language understanding is a key capability that Adept’s software will have to possess, since language is a major way humans provide feedback. But the system won’t just stop with language. “You can think of it as a universal teammate,” Luan says. “If you had another person on your team, what would you shamelessly ask them to do? That’s what we want this software to do.”

Adept’s first step has been creating software that can follow natural language instructions to perform tasks using other software. In a demonstration of this that Adept has posted online, its software uses a basic SQL database to perform a variety of tasks. A user types “can you grab the name and population for every country?” and the software goes ahead and pulls that data from the database and assembles it in a simple table. Then a user asks the software to “make a bar plot of that,” and the software does so. But the plot is hard to read because it contains too many countries. So the user asks it to just “to show the countries with the 6 highest populations,” and the software comes right back with a much easier to read chart. This time though the labels for the six countries are overlapping, which still isn’t great. So the user types, “Good. But the x axis is still a bit hard to read, can you fix that?” And remarkably, the software does so—by writing the labels on an angle—even though the feedback from the user was not that specific. Later in the demo, the software grabs publicly-available U.S. unemployment figures from the Internet and charts those.

This is what Luan calls teaching the software to “climb the ladder of abstraction." Eventually, Vaswani says, he wants the software to be able to take an instruction as abstract and complex as, “tell me how my customers are churning?” and have the software analyze the data and produce a report, all without having to receive additional instructions.

Why didn’t Vaswani and his group just stay at Google and build this general assistant for the tech giant? Well, Niki Parmar, another member of the Google team who left to co-found Adept as its chief technology officer, says that at Google, A.I. research is set up to enhance existing products, not create entirely new product categories. “This is what excites us about Adept,” she says. “Here we can have both research and product together.” She says Adept plans to have a minimally viable product out with customers within months. “We are a small team that is very aligned to the mission, and we can move fast,” she says.

In addition to Adept, there are also startups such as Cohere AI, also founded by veterans of Google Brain, including researchers who worked alongside Vaswani on the Transformer, as well as alumni from Meta’s AI Research division and DeepMind. And there’s Inflection, which was co-founded by former DeepMind co-founder Mustafa Suleyman and LinkedIn co-founder Reid Hoffman. All of these companies are looking to create A.I. to assist humans at a wide variety of tasks.

It will be interesting to watch and see how capable these new digital assistants will really be, which will gain traction and for what uses, and how the major tech companies, such as Google and Microsoft, will respond to what could turn out to be a formidable threat to parts of their business.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn���t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??

Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party. 

Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation

You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.

For this event, you needed a solid six.

One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

But Hannibal had different plans for you.

Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.

"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.

"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."

He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."

The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse. 

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily. 

“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.” 

“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure. 

“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...” 

“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.

You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.” 

Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.” 

“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.” 

“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.” 

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.” 

Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.

You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.

Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.

"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"

Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.

“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”

"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"

The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.

"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."

"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."

Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."

The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."

You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."

"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."

This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.” 

The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.

Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”

“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.” 

Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.” 

“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”

Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence. 

"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.

Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."

"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."

You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home. 

"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"

Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.

"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.

"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."

The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."

David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"

"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."

David shrugged. "Fine."

Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.

"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying. 

“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?” 

She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”

Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset. 

“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.” 

Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.” 

You nodded. “Thank you.” 

Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.

“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually. 

“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.” 

Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.

“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.” 

You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.” 

“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?” 

You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody. 

“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist. 

“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”

You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved. 

“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.” 

The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night. 

Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?” 

You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.” 

A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.” 

“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.” 

“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly. 

“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.” 

Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.” 

Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.” 

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.” 

He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees. 

“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.” 

“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.” 

Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.” 

[bokunosimpfiction]

Kidnapped Yandere!Heisenberg x Reader Pt.5

Summary: You feel emotions other than rage and sarcasm oh my god 

A/N: The reason I took a break from this series was because I had no idea where to take it from that cliff hanger, and I felt that character development needed to be done before we dive head first into the plot. This is part of that, but keep in mind it’s not filler like Chapter 2 became. I think it’s funny that this was SUPPOSED TO BE A FUCKING ONE SHOT BUT APPARENTLY FUCKING NOT. I’ll be posting another chapter for this series soon. Also feel free to send me asks about this series. I’ve been getting comments on my ao3 that are a) genius b)hilarious and c)heartwarming. Talk to me. Please! Ask and anon should be open right now let me know if they aren’t!

Masterlist link for previous parts:

Link to this chapter on AO3:

Taglist: @localdepressedvampire​ and one person recieving updates via email

The fresh cold late-autumn air made your lungs sting. And the layers of clothes didn’t help fight the chill you didn’t know you were facing. Has it been that long since you’ve been outside, to see the sun? You stick your arms in your armpits under your outercoat. Well, Heisenberg’s spare trench coat. It was much too big, the cuffs of the sleeves going well past your fingertips and the bottom half an inch from the ground.

You were so used to the fluorescent lighting and the warm dry air of the factory, that your body went into some type of culture shock. It felt like an allergic reaction to the outside world itself. Adjusting to it once you escaped would be hard.

“You’ve clearly become less fit since you started living with me,” Karl says in a matter-of-fact tone. You’d be insulted if you didn’t hear him say weird stuff about the other lords or the occasional brain-washed villager who brought up offerings. One had sewed you a wool and fox-fur dress and brought it up in September, in preparation for the winter. He’d thought it dumb at the time, but it protected you from the November chill better than anything you’ve ever worn.

Did they think you were a woman? Whether they were right or wrong, it didn’t change the fact that it was comfortable, warm, and made you feel better than the clothes you’d been wearing before in the factory or even before. You felt safe.

“Of course, I have, I’ve been sitting on my ass,” you retort.

“Still see that sass is intact.”

“It’s something that’ll never leave me.”

“You’d make a terrible house-spouse.”

“That’s the point,” you sigh hard, and you can see the cold air in front of your face, “I had a whole ass college degree before I came here and got my ass kidnapped.”

Karl whips around and looks at you, tilting his head down to peer at you from above his glasses. “You have a college degree?”

“Why are you surprised? Did you think I was that stupid?” Even if the question is sarcastic and witty, you felt a pang of hurt reverberate in your heart. Did he really think you were that stupid? Apparently so.

“I have two masters. One in aerospace engineering and one in mechanical engineering. Double majored in those fields for my bachelors at Oxford on a full-ride scholarship of robotic engineering.”

His mouth drops open. “And I didn’t know about this because?”

“It never came up.”

He pinches his nose, “you could have been helping me this whole time in the shop, and I let you sit on your ass and play care-taker.”

“More like forced me.” At this point, you’ve stopped walking, and you’d be able to see the manor of Benviento if it weren’t for the fog.

“Besides the point.” He looks stressed. His eyebrows are furrowed, a deep frown is on his face and his whole disposition makes him look genuinely conflicted and upset. “Let’s just go.” He gestures for you to follow him and stomps up the path.

You follow him, trying not to slip in the mud. Converse doesn’t have great traction, you realized. Maybe you should have worn hiking boots. “Listen, dirty Dr. Doofenschmirtz-“

“I don’t want to listen to your dumb nick-names right now.”

You stop again, and your fists ball up at your side around the fabric of the sleeves of his coat. Your coat. The coat you’re wearing.

“Why the hell are you so mad at me!” It’s not a question. It’s an exclamation of emotion. For some reason, it hurts. Even if you despised him, hated him with all your being, having someone love you unconditionally felt nice. He was toxic at best, sociopathic at worst, and yet he loved you so strongly it tore the both of you so part. To feel that admiration has gone missing, even if for a second, sent you reeling. You can’t explain why you softened towards him.

“I’m not.” He keeps walking before he realized you stopped. He turned around to look at you. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just…” He looks for the words. He’d never been good at expressing himself, you realized. Better through actions than words. But you didn’t want him to act on whatever he was feeling.

You wait in silence, eye-watering, trying not to cry.

He sees and rushes over to you. His left arm wraps around you and his right hand gently grabs your chin, his index finger underneath to lift your chin up to look at him. “Don’t cry, you know I hate it when you cry.”

You struggle to take a deep breath, choke on it, and the world feels so much more dangerous. A million malicious eyes gazing into your soul, whispers of panic fill your brain, and flashing thoughts of running right now, of hurting him or you flash through like lightning in a foggy storm. Every damn thing feels hazy and thick and you’re choking on the lump in your throat. “I don’t want to. I don’t want you to be mad at me, I don’t want-“

“Take a deep goddamn breath.” You feel his tobacco-scented breath on your face. You can see panic flash through his eyes for a moment. You hate the smell, and it suffocates you even more. “You need to breath.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat, and your breath shakes like a wasp nest about to fall from the highest branch. “Why are you mad at me?” This time you genuinely ask. You don’t want a reason, but rather a reassurance that he isn’t at all.

His lips form into a snarl that doesn’t come out before he presses them in a tight line. As he thinks. It makes you even more nervous. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the fact that I had an opportunity that went to waste.”

You look up at him. “Okay.”

He wraps his other arm around you and places his chin on your forehead. “Let me know when you’ve calmed down.”

You rest your forehead on his shoulder and breathe.

In. Out.

In.          Out.

In. OUT.

In… out

In.

Out.

 In.

 … out.

“Do you feel any better?”

You wait a moment. “Yeah, I think so.” You ponder for a moment. “I think I had a lot of pent-up anxiety from everything.”

He stays quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

He places a kiss on the crown of your head, his beard ruffling your hair. “Are you not going to forgive me?”

You take a deep breath. “I don’t know yet. It’s…” How do I phrase this? “I worked hard for this anger. This anger to love me, to know I didn’t deserve this, to be kidnapped, to have my head ready to be mounted on a stick.” You continue, “if I stop feeling angry, if I forgive you, I’m afraid I’m losing that. That’s why I tried to escape because I loved myself, I wanted better for myself.”

“Was I… Was I not providing enough for you?” His question strikes you like an arrow.

“I-“ You stumble on you’re thoughts for a moment. “It’s less of you not doing enough, but more of the rough foot we started on.” You sniffle. ���When I gave up, I felt like I lost a part of myself, all that I worked for. That degree included. I felt all my efforts, all my struggles that I faced outside this goddamn village had gone to waste. That it wasn’t worth it. That I wasn’t worth it.”

You had promised yourself to keep him at arm’s length, to not give him clues to manipulate you. But you poured your heart out into his. You felt him shake and squeeze you tighter.

“Never. Ever. Feel like you aren’t worth it.” You feel something wet on your scalp. “You deserved better than each challenge that you faced, and each bit of hurt you felt along the way.” It’s his turn to choke on his words. He takes a shaky breath above you, and you can feel his heart pound faster. “You, darling, are worth everything.”

Something small inside you breaks. He’s just as human as you are, you realize. In this desperate attempt to escape, to fuel this hatred that’s worn you down, you’ve villainized a man that’s felt even more pain than you. A broken man, who thinks you’re the glue to put him back together. You shouldn’t feel any obligation to, but you do, because you’ve felt a fraction of the pain he’s felt, that he’s currently feeling, and it’s made your mind and bones ache far after the situation ended.

“And so are you, Karl.”

He unwraps his arms from around you. “Come one butter-cup, let’s go. Ugly-ass-psycho-doll is waiting for you. Says she wants you for a fitting and some tea party with her demented child, Angie.”

“Angie? Who’s she.”

“Well, you’re about to find out.”

[downtonabbeyrevisited]

Season Two Episode Two

Following a typically chaotic opener, Episode Two of Season Two strikes a far more sombre tone. The arrival of Henry Lang as Robert’s valet brings the first of this episode’s three plot points that address the impact of WW1 on the mental health of its soldiers. There is nothing funny to say about either shell-shock or suicidal ideation both of which are vast, complex issues that, for my money, Downton Abbey isn’t the vehicle explore in (because they require more time and depth than the pace of the plot in Season Two affords) and it certainly isn’t my place to make light of them in this rather irreverent corner of the internet. So I’m going to have a go at treading a fine line here. Forgive me if I stumble. 

Lang is clearly in the grips of something awful and yet in an attempt to avoid the indignity of having maids in the dining room, he is bumped up to footman duty. He struggles throughout, culminating in him depositing his cargo on Edith’s dress. Mrs O’Brein has firmly taken Lang under her wing, recognising that he is struggling and offers him assurance and comfort that she has never gifted to Thomas. 

Across the Village, Lieutenant Edward Courtenay is in the hospital having been blinded by gas. The use of gas (both chlorine and mustard) had a devastating impact on soldiers in WW1 but was also the root of the development of Zyklon B. Frtiz Haber, a German Jewish chemist, enabled chlorine gas to be used a weapon in WW1 and his research was later developed into the Zyklon process which was used by the Nazis to murder millions, including his own family. This is only one of a dizzying number of appalling ironies to be found in the World Wars but as I said last episode, I’m not a military historian so I’m going to leave it there. Edward had plans to return to the country after his graduation from Oxford to pursue the simple life (although one gets the feeling that his idea of the pursuit of a simple life will still be one that is very well upholstered). Thomas has taken it upon himself to read Edward’s letters to him and  together with Sybil is helping him to adjust to living life with a different set of parameters. But growing pressure on the hospital’s limited capacity means that he is to be transferred elsewhere. All three voice their dissent at varying volumes to Major Clarkson who falls back on the very real backlog of wounded men. After Edward has died, Major Clarkson, Isobel and Sybil talk about a renewed need for the Abbey to become a convalescent home, an idea that has been bubbling under the surface for a while now. Meanwhile, Thomas has been left on his own to process both Edward’s death and the implications of witnessing a lack of support given by his own physician to those with depression.  

The usually reliably jovial Mrs Patmore also has a more somber episode with her pursuit for the truth about the death of her nephew Archie. Robert finds that he has been shot for cowardice. Not only does this mean that her family is in mourning but they will now have to navigate the stigma and undue shame that came with having a relative die in this way. So entrenched in British life was the derision levelled at those who were shot for cowardice or desertion that it was only in 2006 that pardons were offered by Britain for 309 of those that were executed by firing squad during WW1. I know I said I’d leave it there with the military history, but that felt like an important bit of context. 

We are now in 1917 and Matthew is still in the same trench that he was in 1916 (a detail I hadn’t actually noticed until I got the screen cap for this) so it looks like his strategy of downing tools mid-fight and continuously popping back to Blighty for important plot developments isn’t really paying dividends. Perhaps the addition of William to the ranks will help him? William certainly seems to think so and if the speed at which he moves through the various stages of his ‘relationship’ with Daisy is any indication of his tactical prowess, the British Front will not only be well within Germany’s borders but will be breathing down Russia’s neck in a fortnight. In any other episode, this would certainly get the award for oddest relationship dynamic but Sir Richard Carlisle exists. 

Sir Richard makes his debut at Downton, having been introduced in name only in the previous episode. He and Mary met at Cliveden which is a regular haunt of mine, giving me hope that one day I too will from a strategic alliance with a newspaper magnate. He may know how to talk his way around a boardroom but he is lacking in the sartorial department. Whilst Sir Richard manages to avoid catching fire in his tweed, Lavinia is not free from the heat as he threatens her with his connection to her uncle. He may not know much about navigating the niceties of Downton, but at least he has cottoned on to the fact that any major disagreement should occur under a specific tree. Whilst Mary’s signature move is weeping into her gloves, Sir Richard’s is grabbing women by the forearm. A female friend of mine told me that one of her favourite things about the pandemic and the compulsion to keep 2m away from anyone (and not just emotionally) is that she has not been ’steered’ by a male hand on her lower back since 2019. It turns out that she can enter and exit rooms just fine on her own and I get the impression that Lavinia could get the gist of Sir Richard’s rage without the vice like grip of a man probably about twice her age. 

Twinned with the ’tree of emotional conflict’, the ‘platform of romantic uncertainty’ provides the backdrop for Sir Richard’s proposal of marriage to Mary which is a declaration that really feels like it should come with a series of well-formatted charts. Mary’s heart, however, is still very much with Cousin Matthew. After being counselled by Carson in a type of conversation I cannot imagine her ever having with her father, she is on the verge of coming clean with Matthew. But in the second round of Lavinia vs. Mary, Lavinia declares that she ‘could not go on living’ without Matthew and Mary winds her neck in. 

Also having a romantic entanglement this episode is Edith. Drake, previously of dropsy fame, has lost his farm hands and Edith turns up to offer her help in a wildly unsuitable trouser and heeled boot combo. But she soon gets down to it by pulling up a tree stump and flirting in a barn whilst a rather lovely border collie looks on (I’m currently trying to talk myself out of getting a border collie and this incident has done nothing to help things). After showing Drake that she can drink from a bottle like literally every single other human on the planet, the two share a kiss and some highly awkward dialogue that only slightly resembles ‘Carry on Downton’. 

Whilst Edith is more than happy to crack on in a barn, Mr Molesley is much more backwards about coming forwards. Apparently having predicted the creation of ‘The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society’, he figures that a book is the perfect kindling for romance when you exist in a glossy depiction of the past. Sadly neither Elizabeth nor her German garden can lure Anna from Bates who is fast shaping up to be schrodinger’s boyfriend. Anna proceeds to make some odd analogy where she compares Mr Bates to her moon-based child, revealing a rather unhealthy amount of codependency in that particular relationship. 

Romantic declaration of the moment 

Again, it feels like anyone but Sybil and Branson should get this but I am an agent of chaos and here we are. Branson defends Sybil’s will to work and has ample opportunity to see her shine in her chosen field. The admission that she will not be returning to her old life is a little chink of light that Branson basks in. 

Expressive eyebrow of the week 

I nominate Carson’s entire face when he realises that he has taken on too much and goes an impressive shade of red. As Carson frets about spoons, sauce, and something I can’t quite fathom, he starts to resemble a man who is re-arranging the deckchairs on the Titanic. Carson’s battle to get a cork out of a bottle and knocking into chairs is a warm up to his rather dramatic collapse which is accompanied by a pretty disturbing groan. Sybil springs to action and he is soon efficiently ensconced in his own quarters. 

Wait, what? 

“I got a lot done on the train” Clearly Richard was on a train that was unencumbered with the wifi issues that plague the Pendolino.  

“It takes a good deal more than that to shock me.” Mary’s shock-o-meter is a pretty odd instrument. It is unresponsive to corpses of diplomats but goes into absolute meltdown at the notion that she might have to live in a cottage. 

“Let's hope my reputation will survive it.” I’ve not checked (and I categorically never will) but I would put money on the fact that someone has created a rarepair out of this. 

“How can Matthew have chosen that little blonde piece?” Is Lavinia blonde? Women’s hair is not really my forte but I would have thought she was more akin to Tim Minchin than 1998 Justin Timberlake. 

“I believe in this war. I believe in what we are fighting for.” William seems to have a better grip on what all of this is about than I ever did in high school history. The ‘A’ that eluded me is heading his way. 

“I thought he might've died for love of you.” How I love snipey Thomas. It’s good to have him back. To borrow a quote from Bottas (another man who is currently living a life in which his destiny is his own demise) ‘traditions’. 

“Fold it in, don’t slap it” The more season two goes on, the more I think that Moira is just an amalgamation of some choice elements of Julian’s kingdom. 

[friendsim2]

More About Friendsim 2

We’ve been absolutely blown away by the response to this project, and now that our teaser is out and we’re moving into production I’d like to take a minute to say a little bit more about the project!

Who’s Involved?

Friendsim 2 is being produced by Studio June, an independent artists’ collective formed by a group of Homestuck fans and dedicated to creating meaningful, thoughtful content in a post-canon landscape.

Our core creative team consists of the following folks:

Jonaya Riley: Director/Narrative Director ( @transkanayamaryam​ ) A woman who’s written over a million words of Homestuck/Hiveswap-related fiction, including two Hiveswap novels. She’s currently the narrative director for Studio June’s post-canon visual novel, New Game Plus, and has worked on a number of other fan-projects, including the Pesterquest Fan Dub, the Will it Homestuck? podcast, and numerous other projects.

Bucky Grant: Art Director ( @thinglikerbucky ) A long-time Homestuck fan and content creator, Bucky has been involved in a wide range of fan projects. They’re the director for New Game Plus, main host of the Will it Homestuck? podcast, and are prolific writer, artist, and voice actor.

Anna: Voice Director ( @articulately-composed ) Another long-time fan creator, Anna has been heavily involved in the Homestuck music and voice acting scene, and has been responsible for projects such as the Time’s Apprentice musical, the Broadwaystuck 2020 panel, and countless comic dubs and other voice-acting projects. She was a writer for Distantquest, voice-actor for the Pesterquest fan dub, and much more!

In addition to the core team, we’ll be working with a number of writers, artists, musicians, and voice actors from throughout the Homestuck fandom.

When is this coming out?

The game will be released episodically, with the plan being to release the first two routes in the Spring of 2022, with new episodes releasing every few months after that until the game is all done!

What’s the plot?

I don’t want to get too spoiler-y, but the basic plot revolves around MSPA Reader heading back to Alternia to pick up all their friends from Friendsim and take them to safety.

That’s simple, right? Nothing could possibly go wrong with that... right?!

Will this have Xefros and Joey and all them?

No, this is a timeline where the events of Friendsim definitely did take place (which it seems that Hiveswap Act 1 and 2 is not) but Hiveswap Act 1 and 2 definitely did not happen. This will be important for reasons I won’t reveal because they’re major spoilers.

What kind of game is this?

Although this will be a visual novel similar to the original Friendsim in overall presentation, the narrative structure, writing, and stakes will be quite a bit different than the original game.

In addition to the main visual novel gameplay, we’ve got some fun surprises planned for the player!

What makes this special?

Not to brag (okay, maybe to brag just a little bit), but we’ve got some absolutely amazing writers and artists involved in this project. The work being done, even at this early stage, is really highlighting the love and dedication that our creators have for these characters and this world.

Outside of the basic “this is gonna be well-made” thing, we’re planning to introduce a number of things to the Friendsim formula to make a game that’s got some real depth to it.

We’re also planning to record full character voicing (that is, MSPAR and the narration will be un-voiced, but everyone else will talk)! Our team includes not only a voice director who’s written, produced, and recorded an entire Ancestor musical, but several Pesterquest dub voice actors and editors, and we really believe in the added immersion that good voice work can bring to a project.

So... “officially unofficial” what does that mean exactly?!

It means that this is absolutely, definitively not an official project! We have no connection to What Pumpkin or anyone affiliated with What Pumpkin - this project is being produced, written, developed, and financed entirely by the fans.

We’ll definitely be starting from the canon established by Friendsim and Pesterquest, but we’re not beholden to it!

Yeah this sounds pretty dope - how do I get involved?

You can follow Friendsim 2 and Studio June on Twitter, or visit the official Friendsim 2 and Studio June websites for more info! You can also check out our Youtube channel for trailers and teasers!

If you want to be a part of our fan community, check out our Studio June community Discord server where you can chat about Friendsim 2, New Game Plus, or just general Homestuck stuff! Who knows... you might even run into me or some of the other devs on the server!

Also, if you’re interested in a thoughtful, considerate approach to post-canon content, check out New Game Plus, a post-canon visual novel featuring the original Homestuck cast.

Thanks again to all of our followers for your support! Making a project of this scope is always a challenge, and we genuinely appreciate the love and support y’all have shown us!

-Jonaya Riley, Director

[jincherie]

fox rain | five

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 9.9k+ • ☽ — rating: sfw • ☽ — warnings: stop two on the angst train express!!! not as blatant, more reading between the lines here...... have fun! • ☽ — notes: bros... it’s only downhill from here. cowa-fucking-BUNGA amirite cowboys???????!?!?

— posted; 18.09.2020

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterpost | prev. | five | next • —

You lay in a sort of placid, bewildered shock, the kind that is sourced from confusion as opposed to an unpleasant surprise. After waking to blearily turn off your alarm before it blasted through the entirety of Dancing Lasha Tumbai, you’d unlocked your phone to find this curious set of messages from a number you haven’t saved. You’ve been lying in place for several minutes as your tired, wired brain slowly kicks into gear and attempts to debunk the mystery. After another unsuccessful few minutes of staring blankly at the screen, you’re saved from impending cranial combustion when your phone lets out a delightful little tinkle and another message hastily joins the others.  

Ah, that makes so much sense now! Except it doesn’t. Actually, it kind of adds to your bewilderment. Taehyung… is texting you? You don’t think you’ve ever in your life had any correspondence with him that didn’t either take place in the presence of Jimin or under the influence of alcohol… also in the presence of Jimin, now that you think of it. You haven’t really interacted with Taehyung outside of Jimin. So it is particularly odd to wake up to a series of messages that are from him, and pertaining to such an odd topic. You’re still so tired you can’t even fathom what would warrant a text from him. Maybe you dropped something at one of your tutoring sessions and Jimin asked him to give it back to you? It would make sense, since after the rollercoaster of a ride the last week has been for him (in particular, the questionable events that took place at the hands of one Kim Seokjin but somehow ended up with Jimin and Hoseok making up? You don’t really understand it but you’re not even going to bother to try to at this point) he has ended up a little preoccupied.

Tapping the screen when your inactivity leads it to go dark, you take a moment to scrounge a response from the empty barrel bottom that is your brain. Once satisfied, you drop your phone onto your bed and flop yourself back to the position you’d been in before your own alarm woke you so rudely. Technically, you don’t have to be up and about for another hour…

With faith that your additional hour of sleep will revive your ability to think, you allow yourself to slip somewhat self-indulgently back into sleep and pass the fuck out like a woman who has spent the night trying to forget.

(Which you are, and did do, except with maybe a little less alcohol than what that sentence implied.)

X     X     X     X

 It has been almost a week since the unfortunate end to that tutoring session on Monday, and while you’ve managed to stay off social media enough that you haven’t triggered yourself by accident in the entirety of that duration, every time you come on campus it’s like for however many steps forward you took, you take double the amount backwards. University students are such gossips! Well, the jobless ones are, anyway. The students that work and study are too busy dragging themselves around campus in a stunning rendition of the undead from various media to be bothered with the latest plot twist in the resident school drama. Which is to say, there has been no twist. The population is still shamelessly up Sera’s ass in the belief that she is the author of the poem, and as has become the norm you find yourself resisting the urge to hunt the bitch down and go in for round two on her face. Surely, your self-control has earnt you the title of a saint by now.

You’re blasting some angsty shit on the way to your music history class and pretending you’re in a music video for some indie band (it’s cathartic, and you will argue that fact to your grave), when you make it a few steps past the entrance to the food court and have the absolute living daylights scared out of you. Thudding footsteps reach you through your earphones and two hands clamp on your shoulders to halt you in place and spin you around like Barbie Ballerina.

“You’re a disgrace!” It’s Seokjin who has halted you in the middle of the hallway, every bit as dramatic as you’d come to expect. “You skipped drama class? And you call yourself an acting major, PSH!”

Yanking your earphones out, you nail the tall, pink-haired idiot with a glare. Very bold of him to be approaching you after you nearly chopped off Lil’ Jinnie barely a few days ago for his bastardous antics. Perhaps he’s getting a bit big for his glittery pink rainboots.

“First of all, will you please listen to me when I tell you I’m not an acting major?” Unfortunately, when you speak your voice comes out more exasperated and less threatening than you intended. “Second of all—very bold of you to be approaching me right now. You’re lucky you escaped with your life, you meddling bastard. You want me to bite the rest of your dick off?”

“You should know by now that I take that as a compliment,” Seokjin sniffs, haughtily, ignoring the latter part of your threat. “And do you know how boring it is for me to crash your class when you’re not even there? No one threatens me like you! It’s getting harder and harder to get it up these days, you know. I need a hit of the good stuff.”

For a moment you’re simply stunned into silence, staring at him and wondering just how and why he seems to have been sent here with the sole mission of making you want to kill him and then yourself. Nothing you could think to say really is enough, so you settle on simply turning and walking away.

Of course, you forgot that no one turns their back on Kim Seokjin and gets away with it.

“YAH!”

You wince—you think he actually just broke a sound barrier, or maybe your eardrums— or both. Seokjin quickly scrambles to place himself in front of you, arms out. His eyes are wide in something you suspect he thinks is a puppy-eyed look, but actually comes across more like he’s trying not to shit himself.

“Promise me you won’t skip drama again!” Seokjin says, pointing a finger at you in borderline accusation. When he doesn’t see your expression budge, he quickly changes tactics. “If not for me, the most charming prince in the story of your life, then at least for Jungkook, that poor virgin—”

You blink, distracted for a moment by what he said. “Wait, Jungkook is in my drama class?”

“’Wait, Jungkook is in my drama class?’” Seokjin repeats in a voice a few octaves higher than your own. “Listen to you, not even knowing who is in your own class. For shame! But have no fear, since you clearly skip so much I will happily extend my generosity and take you under my wing. Tutelage fee starts at $55 with an extra $5 for every question you ask that I don’t know—”

“Do you ever actually hear yourself talk?” you ask, feeling your will to live draining out your ears. “Like, the shit that comes out of your mouth? Do you hear it? Because—wait, are you saying you would charge me for questions that you don’t know the answer to?!”

Seokjin shrugs, “It’s a little unorthodox, I know. But—”

“I would literally be bankrupt! Thousands—no, millions of dollars in debt!” You exclaim, grabbing him by his stupid big shoulders and shaking him about. “Do I look crazy to you?!”

“Oh, what, you think you can do better?!” Seokjin demands, voice wobbling from your shaking. “What’s 2x2?”

“Fucking four!” you wail, releasing him in your despair. You can’t do this, your day only just started and you are not exhausted enough to micronap while he talks like usual. “I’m leaving, don’t follow me. DELETE MY NUMBER.”

“Haha jokes on you!” you hear Seokjin holler from behind you, voice rapidly growing quieter from the speed that you’re powerwalking away. “You never gave me your number!”

You make it to class barely on time due to Seokjin acting as one of the biggest inconveniences in your life, and while you manage to push him from your brain for the duration of it, you wish you could say that is the last time you see him,

It’s probably the fact that you busted his ass being a weirdo with Jimin and Hoseok last week that has him so…. attached this week, you suspect. You’re at your third Seokjin encounter for the day and you’re honestly considering whether you should trip to the campus pharmacy and look for some pepper spray, or maybe an umbrella. Pepper spray would be more effective, but the umbrella…. You can’t argue against the satisfaction it would provide.

You’re trying to sneak your way into a library on the Arts side of campus, one you don’t usually go to, so you can study without worrying about going absolutely batshit insane in the presence of Seokjin. It was hard, but you think that you’ve finally managed to shake him. What on earth had him so determined to tail you today? Was it seriously because you skipped your own class? Nutcase.

You peek your head around the corner looking not only for Seokjin, but for another thing you had happened to notice every time you were ambushed. You have yet to determine whether the glimpse of phenomenally bright floral print right before Seokjin pounces you is causation or correlation, and it makes you a bit nervous. Cautiously, like timid forest animal, you creep around the corner and begin to make your way into the building, eyes flicking from the library door right at the end to the rest of your surroundings. The café coming up on your right tempts you greatly, but you know it is too great of a risk. Out in the open, you’d definitely be seen.

This area is almost like a courtyard, an undercover area between three separate buildings. With a looming cement and glass ceiling, though, it feels like a building of its own. The library sits nestled in the corner of the largest building, and although it isn’t very wide, it spans several floors. You plan on going to the highest one and hiding in a corner near a window.

You’re close, so close to reaching the library in fact that you’ve fallen into a false sense of security. By the time you register the sound of pounding footsteps approaching behind you, for the second time today, it’s too late.

“Ah, y/n! Wait!”

Instinctively you prepare to burst into a sprint to get away, but at the last second stop yourself. That doesn’t sound like Seokjin… that sounds like—

“Taehyung?” you ask, turning in surprise as the boy comes to a screeching halt in front of you, bending with his hands on his knees as he attempts to catch his breath.

“I’ve… been trying….” he huffs, “To talk to you…. all day….. hah…Why are you so….. good at running away?”

He looks absolutely wiped out, cheeks red and sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. You’re just beginning to feel guilty when you notice his shirt, the bright floral print that you literally don’t know anyone else bold enough to wear, and you realise he’s really not lying. Poor Taehyung, just like you he has fallen victim to—

“That Seokjin bastard,” you say, completing a quick scan of the area to make sure the mention of his name didn’t somehow summon him. “He’s been harassing me all day. I’ve had to really up my game. By the way… are you okay? Please breathe… also what did you want to talk to me about?”

Taehyung straightens, eyes closed as he attempts to control his breathing. One of his hands comes to sweep the ashy hair from his face, the ends slightly damp with sweat.

“I’m fine,” he says, sounding slightly like he’s about to pass out. You prepare to take a step forward and catch him if he does, but he opens his eyes in the next second and shoots you a dopey smile. “I’m fine! Apparently just… whoo… really out of shape.”

“Your sacrifice is not in vain,” you say, smiling when he lets out a sudden laugh. Another shaky breath rakes past his lips before he straightens, eyes blinking a little wider. “Ah, right. I was looking for you because, um… you didn’t respond to my text… and I needed to ask you something that’s a little time-sensitive…”

“Your text…” you wrack your brain, sure that you remembered responding to it this morning in bed. Your mouth shifts into a wince, though, when you can recall writing a response, but not actually sending it. “Oh. I am so sorry, I’m an idiot. I was kind of half asleep when you texted, and I swear to god I typed a response but I think I fell asleep again before sending it…”

There is not a shred of accusation on Taehyung’s pleasant features, lips instead slightly curled in a smile. “That’s fine,” he chirps, rocking on the balls of his feet for a moment. “I do it all the time too. I’m just glad I caught you.”

You return his smile, before a thought that had been nagging you earlier returned and you acted on the urge to voice it. “By the way…. How did you get my number?”

Your question seems to be unexpected and, for some reason, flusters him slightly. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck, averting his gaze for a moment. “Uh, Jimin gave it to me. It was for something stupid a while ago but I never needed to use it.”

You raise your brows at what he said, but get the feeling he’s not going to elaborate. Instead, you remain quiet and wait for him to continue his thought from earlier. He shuffles on his feet, returning his gaze to your own. “Anyway, the reason I was trying to catch you all day was because I wanted to ask you something…”

“I know it’s not really any of my business, but I kind of noticed, and Jimin mentioned lightly that things haven’t been, uh…. great for you lately.” He doesn’t even give you time for that statement to sink in amongst your shock, continuing without pause despite the way his cheeks begin to flush, “And, uh, my exhibition is this Friday, and I was gonna go with Jimin but he double-booked himself with Hobi, so now I have no plus-one and I was wondering… if you wanted to go?”

When you simply stand there, dumbfounded, he clears his throat awkwardly, fiddling with the cuffs of his button-down. “To um, you know, take your mind off things… maybe… you don’t have to, of course, but I just thought I would—”

Snapping out of your stupor before he can take back the invitation, you hastily step forward and outstretch your hands. “Oh, no I would love to go! This is really—” you clear your throat, trying to ignore the light sting of your eyes “—sweet of you. I’d like to go, if it’s ok. You’re sure Jimin doesn’t mind…?”

Taehyung seems shocked, and you suspect he might have thought you would turn down the invitation from the way his eyes seem to light up. Have you really been walking around campus looking like that much of a gloomy bitch? You need to check your facial expressions when you get home this afternoon.

“He won’t mind,” he says, waving his hand excitedly. “Great, perfect—um, here is the little info sheet. I’d stay to tell you more but my class actually started a few minutes ago, so…”

“Oh!” you exclaim, taking the sheet from his hand before waving him away. “Go! Go to class! I’m sorry I made you late! Thank you for this, by the way!”

He seems slightly dazed at your enthusiastic thanks and farewell, but he shakes himself out of it and before he goes he sends you a smile that you can’t think of any other way to describe except dazzling. “It’s no problem, y/n. See you then.”

And then he’s off and you’re left standing alone in the pseudo-courtyard, clutching the exhibition pamphlet in your grip. Your eyes sting ever so slightly, and you can’t help but think how kind of sad it is that one person goes out of their way to think of you in the midst of everything you’re dealing with and you’re so touched you’re nearly driven to tears.

Hormones suck and you want a refund.

 X     X     X     X

 Taehyung was right when he said that what he had to ask you was time-sensitive. 

You hadn’t realised it at the time, but Friday was only a few days away— and in the midst of classes, schoolwork, and everything else, those days went fast.  Before you know it, it’s Friday morning and a panicked glance at the pamphlet Taehyung had given you reveals that the exhibition opens officially around 4:30PM. That works out surprisingly well for you, considering your last class ends at three o’clock and you can easily reschedule your session with Hoseok and Jimin. 

There’s a lot about the invitation you haven’t gotten to really dwell on, and that continues to be the case as the day flies before your very eyes. By the time your music theory class comes to an end and you finish scribbling down the last few lines of note from your teacher, the event is even closer than you anticipated. From your recent examination of the pamphlet, you’d found earlier that Taehyung’s exhibition is being held at a small university-sponsored gallery downtown. It shouldn’t take you too long to get there from your house, and on the way home after packing your things, you plot out the route you’re going to take. It’s about a twenty minute trip, as you discover, since there is by some stroke of luck a bus that goes straight there from a street just around the corner from your own. Taking that into account, you should have around forty minutes or so to get ready. 

Considering you’re one of many poor university students populating the area, it’s not often you actually put the effort in to get dressed up. Around these parts, there is a distinct culture of sweat pants and comfortable tops and more often than not a socks-and-slides combo, something you take part in more often than you’d like to admit. Still, you feel that considering the nature of the event you’ve been invited to and what you know of Taehyung’s works, you should probably be putting in much more effort than usual. 

While you might act like a slob sometimes, this isn’t actually a problem— even goblins like you can have a stash of decent clothes somewhere in their cave. Yours happen to be pushed to the back of your closet on hangers that haven’t seen the light of day in months. What can you say? University takes its toll in mysterious ways. 

Standing before your closet, eyes boring into the portion that’s been held in its depths for longer than you can remember, you wonder which way you should go with your outfit. Exhibitions are fancy right? Should you dress it up? Logic says you should, but on the other hand what if you are the only one dressed up? That would be humiliating. You pause for a moment to think about the type of garb you usually see Taehyung in— you have a feeling that he will probably dress the same way tonight. Recalling his bold, avante-garde taste in fashion is about as helpful as one might imagine, but it does comfort you to know that no matter what you choose, most eyes will likely be on him anyway. 

Comforted by that fact, you make up your mind and pull out a set that isn’t too over the top, and won’t make you look like a rat. Once you’ve slipped into those, you freshen up and wash your face, trying to make yourself seem a little bit more alive afterwards and not like you had an 8AM class today. You’re successful, to a degree, but you’re a little tight on time so you can’t really dwell on it. Feeling your stomach rumble as you grab your bag and key, you can only hope that this exhibition has free food.

x — x — x

“Ah, y/n! You’re here! You… you look nice.”

You were so busy staring at the large, shiny building before you that when Taehyung’s voice rings out in greeting, it startles the hell out of you. You don’t even register what he says before you’re pointing with eyes and mouth wide open, “Your exhibition is in there?!”

His expression of surprise melts into one of amusement, a laugh tumbling from deep in his throat. You don’t even notice the way his cheeks are flushed ever so slightly as he meets your gaze.

“Fancy, right?” he says, wagging his brows. “Some loaded alumnus who actually enjoyed his university experience practically donated it to them. So now they use it for, uh… for most exhibitions.”

“For the best ones, you mean,” you say, your grin widening when he scratches the back of his neck, bashful and blushing. “But yeah, damn. I was expecting it to be nice but I wasn’t expecting it to be this nice.”

Taehyung laughed again, clearing his throat. As he takes a moment to collect himself, you let your eyes scan over his form. The second you do so, you feel a foreign flutter in your stomach, heat flushing to your face. There is truly no other way to describe his choice of outfit for today except for painfully boyfriend. Perhaps on anyone else it would look a little less than presentable, but on Taehyung’s model-esque form the loose chestnut pants and an oversized leather jacket over a boldly patterned shirt work wonders. How does he look so effortless yet so…?

If you’d attempted to wear something like that you’d end up looking like the local court jester. Perhaps you should just make peace with the fact that God has favourites and Kim Taehyung is clearly one of them. 

“It, um. It started a few minutes ago, shall we head in?”

Taehyung offers you his arm, a gentlemanly move that completely contrasts the boyish grin on his face. Ignoring the sudden sensations in your abdomen, you make a show of curtsey-ing before you take it, eliciting a laugh from your company as the two of you head to the entrance and the full exhibition experience begins. 

As soon as you enter there is someone by the door, who seems to be at the very least taking note of how many people enter, a table with flyers and booklets beside him. Taehyung parts from you only to move over and grab a few, brandishing them as he returns with a bright grin.

“Here is all the information about the event, madame,” he says, with an extremely exaggerated air of grandeur, presenting one of the flyers with a flourish. You take it, unable to help your soft snort.

“I would have thought I had something better, what with the very artist behind the event accompanying me,” you say, grinning when you see his cheeks turn an endearing pink as he flashes a bright, boxy smile. 

“True,” he returns, folding the other flyer and slipping it into the pocket of his jacket. “You can’t ask a flyer questions in real time. Anything that crosses your mind, you can ask straight to the source.”

“Oh? Then, may I enquire as to what the theme of this exhibition is?” You’re enjoying the playful air that drifts between you now, unable to rid your face of the smile currently displayed on it even if you wanted to.

Taehyung’s eyes flick to you, a lopsided smile tugging his lips to accompany the sly accent to his gaze. “Ah, a tough one right off the bat. I think telling you straight-up would be too easy. Let’s see if you can try to guess it as we walk through.”

You turn to him with an affronted look, having expected him to easily supply you with the answer. Taehyung is a little cheekier than you remember. You snap your mouth shut, cheeks heating when you notice he has offered his arm to you once more. Taking note of the other people in the room walking around in a similar manner, you slip your arm through his and try to ignore the way you feel your ears light on fire.

“Okay, you’re on,” you respond, if a few moments too late. He doesn’t comment on the delay, simply sending you a smile that you can’t quite decipher the emotion behind. You don’t get to dwell before the two of you are off, beginning on your journey through the building and starting on your tour of the exhibition. 

You’d kind of always known that Taehyung was talented, considering he managed to make such a name for himself on campus in such little time with such ease. Hell, he’s well-known enough to have made it onto the list of suspects for the muse of your poem. Still, this knowledge is only compounded the further into the building you go and the more of the exhibition you see. Taehyung is truly talented, the images blown up and displayed on the wall each capturing a certain emotion that you don’t have a name for, yet is so familiar that each time you see a new one it gives you pause. Viewing his works, seeing into this part of him and witnessing this bit of his soul he has bared, you can’t help but feel a slight sense of kinship. 

It’s something that rests in the space between your lungs and diaphragm, something that tickles but also something that aches. You do know this feeling, so familiar yet so out of touch and far from the tip of your mind’s tongue. You do try to guess the theme of the exhibition as you go, throwing out the occasional dumb guess to elicit a laugh— he always laughs, and it always makes you smile— but you don’t quite manage to pin it. 

“The five senses,” you shoot into the dark, standing before an image that has made you stop and stare for a good five minutes now. It’s not quite black and white, and it’s not a particularly unique image— but something about the composition, something about the movement in the two hands that are so close yet so far from actually touching, speaks to that hidden part of you. The way one of the hands simply hangs, unbothered and neutral, but the other, the one slightly closer to the foreground, has fingers ever so slightly outstretched, reaching but never quite committing to the movement and the unspoken consequence of the hinted action. 

Of course, you know the answer even before Taehyung says it. He laughs, hands in his pockets, “Nope, ddaeng.”

“This is hard,” you whine, without much heart behind it. The smile stays on Taehyung’s face.

“Whatever. You’re smart, I know you can guess it. It should be easy, for you.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and you have to turn away so that he doesn’t see your cheeks warm. The two of you had parted when you caught sight of the snacks table; you’d been prepared to abandon him and make a beeline over, but Taehyung had surprised you by marching over himself and coming back with a loaded plate. He’d confessed with a sheepish smile that he hadn’t had lunch, and really you were in no place to judge since you hadn’t either. By this point in your journey, though, the plate is almost empty. There’s only two tiny cupcakes left and you’re letting the rest of the things you scarfed down settle before you go in for more. 

Perhaps it was a little dangerous, coming here with Taehyung. He looks so fine, even while shoving sweets in his mouth, that you spend about the same amount of time looking at him as you do at his artworks. It takes all of your willpower to tear your eyes away every time you catch yourself looking at him and admiring the truly boyfriend fit he has donned for this occasion. Every so often he will simply stand before one of his works, scrutinising it with a fresh perspective and ever-criticising eyes, and the sight of it will make something nameless and foreign well within you. You don’t quite know what to do with it, so you ignore it. Or at least, you try to. 

It feels a little too similar to what you know of yearning. It leaves you confused.

You stop not long after in front of another piece, this time a combination of three images that act as separate snapshots of smaller parts of a larger image. You admire the way he has set it out, revealing not too much but just enough that the viewer gets a sense, a feeling, but isn’t confronted with the message. It allows everyone to take their own sensation from it. You like that a lot about his works— he doesn’t tell people what to feel as they view his images, but merely hints, prompts and nudges. He sets the stage and allows people to take what they need, see whichever bits draw their eye most and spell meaning from elements of their choosing. He’s talented, you find yourself marveling again, so incredibly talented.

But still, you can’t put a finger on what the theme is.

By the time you make your way completely though the exhibition, having doubled back at a few points to look again at a select few of the pictures, you’re still no closer to guessing. It has you deep in your thoughts as you stand outside, waiting for Taehyung to return from thanking one of the guests who had recognised him for coming. 

“Guessed it, yet?”

You turn, pinning him with a look that you hoped didn’t look as dumb as it felt. “Leave it with me,” you say. “I’ll figure it out eventually.”

At your words, Taehyung laughs— it’s one of the full-bodied ones you’ve come to enjoy, where he throws his head back a little and shakes his hair back into place after. You have to snap yourself out of it before he catches you staring. 

“I’m sure,” he says, unable to keep the cheeky grin off his face. It does slip ever so slightly though, just for a moment, as you watch a thought cross his features. “By the way…”

You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. You feel an odd combination of at-peace, and unsettled. Holistically, this is the most at-peace and relaxed you’ve been in weeks. However, when you take a moment to tune into the inner machinations that make up your being… something in this exhibition has reached into your insides and fiddled around, moving things where they shouldn’t be and touching things that aren’t meant to be touched. It’s odd, and you acknowledge that it gives you quite a bit of cognitive dissonance. Even so, you’re calm enough that you have no trouble being patient while you wait for Taehyung to continue and say what he seems so nervous to say. 

“Um, I know I initially only asked you about coming here, to the exhibition…” he begins, reaching to rub the back of his neck in what you recognise to be one of his nervous ticks. “But, I actually have these vouchers I won in a competition a while ago for a paint-and-sip session that are about to expire, and I was wondering… would you like to go? Now, I mean. Since they actually kind of expire tomorrow. Unless you’re busy, because if you are that’s—”

You decide to put him out of his flustered misery, reaching to nudge his arm. “Of course, that sounds fun! Plus, you were right the other day; I could really do with the chance to relax. Thank you, for all this. I really appreciate it.”

It takes a second for your words to register, but when they do the most blindingly bright smile spreads across his face; he’s practically beaming at you. 

“Of course,” he says, with barely a moment’s hesitation. “I’m really happy you agreed to come— I’m glad you said yes to the paint-and-sip, too, because it’s one of my favourite places. Come on, let’s get going. If we get there at just the right time, we can get a really good seat, hopefully by the window.”

The journey continues, Taehyung leading you through the city while chatting easily all the while, a stunning twilight cityscape backdrop and the gentle glimmering surface of the river meandering through buildings providing the perfect scenery. If you had a little more faith in your artistic ability, you might try and paint the image you see now; Taehyung in the colours of dusk, soft and natural against the bright lights and harsh lines of the metropolitan landscape. But alas, you aren’t as talented as the man besides you, and you don’t even want to think of how it would turn out if you attempted to paint such a thing. You quickly throw the thought from your mind before it can linger and get up to more trouble than it’s worth. 

“Here we are!” Taehyung’s cheer breaks you out of your stupor, bright smile directed your way once more as he stops in front of a large establishment with long strips of window and a colourfully sewn awning. 

‘Brush & Bar’, the cursive, neon sign reads above the door, flickering between soft pink and peach orange. It’s an interesting aesthetic the place has going on, but when you look over and catch sight of Taehyung once more it suddenly makes sense why he likes it so much. The style of this place is very similar to some of the more outlandish things he tends to model around campus. Before your reverie lets you remain abandoned outside, you hurry to follow after the ashy-haired boy, grabbing the back of his jacket when you almost trip over the door frame. He spares a look over his shoulder to make sure you’re okay before he continues, moving towards the counter and smiling with more charm than you can personally handle at the staff member there. 

It’s a woman, who you suspect is in her mid-thirties, and she is pretty enough that it takes you by surprise when she rolls her eyes heavily at Taehyung’s approach. 

“You again, boy?” she asks, though it sounds more rhetorical than anything and you catch the slightest tinge of humour accenting her words and it soothes your hackles. “Don’t you ever get sick of hanging around here?”

“Nope!” 

She cracks a smile, lines appearing at the edges of her eyes. “Well, I suppose that’s a good thing. We’d miss you an awful lot if you ever stopped showing up here.” Her eyes flick ever so slyly to you, and then back. “Say, is today the day you’re finally gonna make good on those vouchers you won? I know you said you were waiting for the right chance to ask that g—”

“Yes!” Taehyung cuts in loudly, eyes wide and cheeks flushing darkly. “Yes, yep! I brought the vouchers! They do expire tomorrow after all!”

The woman, Bora as you now see from her nametag, simply smiles, something sly about the action intriguing you. Taehyung clears his throat, reaching to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly. “So, um… I will use them now. Is the window seat free…?”

Bora nods, a fond curve to her lips now as she rummages around behind the counter and takes the offered vouchers from Taehyung to punch holes in them. “Your favourite spot? Of course. I had a feeling you were coming, too, so I’ve already gone and set it up with some canvases and acrylics.”

She hands the vouchers back, and Taehyung slips them into the pocket of his jacket.  “Paintbrushes and jars are in their usual place, and I know you don’t normally drink while you’re here but if you’d like some tonight just take your order up to Kyungsoo. Oh! And tonight’s special for snacks is tea cakes, so definitely make the most of that. There are some good ones in the display.”

At the mention of food and alcohol, your gaze had already started to wander on its own— you catch sight of the display of cakes and other sweets and feel your mouth water. Ridiculous, since you were kind of full before, but what can you say, you’re a complicated woman. Lots of layers, not unlike an onion. The thought almost makes you snort.

With a gentle nudge to your arm, Taehyung is bringing you back to the present moment and leading you over to the window, where a medium-sized table has been set up with two square canvases and a basket of paint bottles, palettes leaning to the side. Taehyung instructs you to take a seat, informing you with a smile that he’ll grab some paintbrushes and water for the two of you to use. At his suggestion, while he is gone you open up your phone and search for something to paint. Something that’s not too hard and not too easy. Because your skills are… well, they’re not nonexistent but you’re not about to go around tooting your horn in front of someone with actual art skills and talent. Apparently there is usually an image supplied for each night, but Taehyung says it’s not strict and that tonight is one of the nights where all the patrons just have free reign. 

You sort of get distracted part way through the activity, eyes subconsciously seeking Taehyung’s leather jacket amongst the decently filled establishment. It’s really quite nice inside, actually; the walls and general decor are soft and neutral, with pops of colour everywhere that bring each corner and table to life. A lot of the furniture is wooden, natural and polished underneath specks of paint that decorate in layers that tell of time spent well. The lighting is soft with the exception of the bulbs stationed above each table, which are brighter and angled towards where the canvas would be. On one of the walls, the one near the bar, it is completely covered by greenery— vines that, as far as you can tell, aren’t actually fake. A soft, almost jazzy tune filters lightly through the room, complemented by the low hum of chatter and paintbrushes hitting glass. You’re incredibly impressed and, admittedly, you like this place a lot. It has the kind of vibe that just… makes you content. 

“Here we go!” 

You startle at the sound of Taehyung’s low register, looking over to see him placing a bundle of paintbrushes in between the two of you and a jar beside each of your canvases. He takes his seat across from you, smiling brightly. “Did you decide what you want to paint?”

You hum, turning your gaze out the window for a moment to see if it grants you any inspiration— it’s a gorgeous sight, the twilight sky broken by the outline of buildings with glimmering insides, but it doesn’t help much. You don’t know what you want to paint. Of course, there is this big, expanding feeling inside you, the urge to express it somehow filling you to your fingertips, but what do you do with it? You don’t even know its name.

“No,” you answer, reaching for one of the palettes propped up to the side. “But I’ll be okay. Maybe I’ll just see where the vibe takes me.”

The smile Taehyung gives you at that is softer than most, and he eagerly follows suit in grabbing a palette and beginning to set it up; he squirts a big dollop of white, blinking at it for a moment as though he hadn’t intended to put that much. “There are some pencils and erasers to the side there, too. I prefer the moldable one.”

You thank him for his advice, before realising as he puts his own pencil ever so lightly to canvas that he hadn’t told you the subject of his painting. “What are you going to paint?”

“A secret,” he says, leaning around the canvas to grin at you. “Since I don’t know what you’re painting. Let’s swap paintings after, though. I do want to see eventually.”

That makes you laugh, but you don’t bother pushing further. A surprise is nice every now and then, you know. So long as it’s not the kind that ruins your life as you know it indefinitely.

But you’re here to have fun and relax, so you’re not going to get into that. You’re not even going to think about it. 

Taehyung clears his throat, catching your attention immediately. “Right, before we start we should probably order. Did you—”

“No need, my boy!”

Two new figures appear at the side of the table, one a youthful man on the shorter side, the other older and plumper with grey beginning to speckle through his hair. The shorter one places two drinks onto the table, colourful cocktails in a generous glass, and the older laughs before placing down two plates, each with a different kind of cake slice situated neatly in the middle.

“On the house,” the man continues, chuckling at the shocked and somewhat flustered look on Taehyung’s face. “You’ve given us a lot of business so don’t even worry about it. Plus, we heard you were finally making the most of those vouchers so… here’s a little something to start the night off well!”

“...Thanks, Mr Kang,” Taehyung finally manages, shooting them a smile that could honestly give Hoseok’s own a run for its money. “You too, Kyungsoo. Do…. do I wanna know what’s in this?”

He’s gesturing to the drinks, a somewhat fearful look on his face. The shorter man shakes his head, thick brows curved in mirth as his lips twitch into a lopsided smile. “Nope. Tastes good though, so you got nothing to worry about.”

You can’t tell whether Taehyung is relieved or concerned, and so step in to save him a moment of reprieve. “Thank you so much— this all looks amazing!”

Happily, the two men soak in your praise. “I assure you,” Mr Kang says, patting his chest proudly. “It tastes as good as it looks.”

Kyungsoo snorts, but doesn’t disagree. He gives the two of you a small smile. “Right, we should be on our way. You two enjoy yourselves, and if you want refills just come let me know.”

Taehyung nods, thanking them again, and then it’s just the two of you once more.

“Well,” he says, licking his lips and reminding you of a puppy as he stares intently at the slice of strawberry crepe cake, decorated with a generous drizzle of syrup and two fresh, sliced strawberries in a dollop of cream beside it. The other one, a coffee-caramel blend you presume from the heavenly aroma reaching your nose, looks just as good but is nowhere near as successful at capturing his attention. “I guess… let’s begin!”

Whether he meant painting or devouring the food, you end up doing a bit of both. Each mouthful of cake that enters your mouth is announced with an explosion of flavour so rich it lingers long after you’ve swallowed the mouthful down. The drinks, too, are delicious. Fruity but not too syrupy or sugary, you suspect Kyungsoo had used spirits and tempered the fruity flavour with a bit of lemon or lime.

You still aren’t really sold on what to paint, but in the meantime you end up sketching out the flowers that sit on the windowsill a little behind Taehyung. They don’t seem too complicated, and if they end up looking terrible you can just smear the canvas with paint and call it abstract. Of course, part of Taehyung’s shoulder cuts the vase off from view so he’s probably going to end up making an unwitting appearance in whatever mess turns up on your canvas. 

Even though neither of you have any idea what Kyungsoo put into those drinks, you’re sure its something strong. Before long the two of you are already giggly, conversation flowing easily as you put paint to canvas and attempt to make something decent. It’s around the time the two of you are almost finishing your drinks that the conversation takes a delightful turn, which consists of Taehyung telling you about his little fluffball, Yeontan.

“Oh my god,” you say, fingers gripping the paintbrush tight as you try to pet the urge to pet a dog that isn’t even here. “He’s so cute! Look at his grumpy little eyebrows!”

Taehyung laughs, having taken a break from painting to show you his dog like a proud parent. He takes his phone back and slips it into his pocket, paint-flecked hand returning to the brush he’d abandoned. “He’s such a smart dog, but he’s also super dumb. Runs into shit all the time. And there was one time that a friend came over and brought a new camera that he hadn’t seen before—”

Taehyung has to pause recounting the story, he starts giggling so hard. It makes you erupt into laughter as well simply because of how contagious the sound is. “He got so mad, he ran in front of me with his little legs and started barking at it like he was trying to protect me. I love that little dog.”

“I love him too and I haven’t even met him,” you giggle, using your pinky (the only finger you’re sure you haven’t gotten paint on yet) to wipe under your eyes. You don’t think you let a tear slip but you’ve been laughing so much you can’t be sure. 

Taehyung beams at you from around his canvas, brush held midair.  “That’s exactly what Jiminie says.”

That gives you pause. “Wait— Jimin hasn’t seen your dog? But you’ve been friends for ages!”

You catch the photographer smiling as he delivers a few soft strokes to his painting, affection hidden in his tone as he responds, “Yeah, a few years. Since… the last? Second last year of high school? Maybe? It was a wild start to the friendship.”

“Wild?” you echo, intrigued. 

“Yeah. What really kick-started our friendship was this one time I came over while Jimin was really upset about something. I can’t remember exactly how it happened but we ended up at some wack university event nearby. It was boring as hell, and somehow we figured the best way to be entertained would be to commit a mild crime and get away with it.”

Once more, the ashy-haired male has to pause his story to get the giggles out of his system, taking the opportunity to sip a little more of his cocktail. You do the same, not one to pass up much of any drink these days. 

“Long story short, he ended up streaking across the field and earning himself a title at the university as ‘mooncheeks’ or something equally dumb and funny, earnt himself a bit of a nude legacy.”

You pause, the alcohol beginning to slow your mind just enough that it takes a little longer for you to connect the dot between his story and something you’d shoved so deep in the back of your mind years ago that you’d almost forgotten it.

“Wait—” you smack your paintbrush down, eyes wide as an accusing finger is thrown his way. “That was— he ran into me on the way back! Oh my god I almost forgot, that was you two?!”

Taehyung erupts into laughter that is an octave or two shy of being too loud, having to place a hand over his chest to brace himself. He’s nodding wordlessly, eyes pinched shut, and it’s probably the alcohol making your eyes blur but for a moment you could almost swear he’s glowing.

“Yeah,” he finally manages to articulate, wiping a stray tear or two from his eyes, sniffling. “It cheered him up, though, so I think it’s worth the potential trauma.”

That makes you laugh, another sip of your drink going down. A lot of the spirits must have settled at the bottom, because this one had a little warmth as it went down. 

The night goes so easily it’s like a dream, the atmosphere and alcohol in combination with Taehyung’s company making you feel much like you did before this whole shitshow, back when it wasn’t so hard to release the tension in your shoulders or to muster a genuine smile. Taehyung happily gets you a few refills, refusing to let you pull out your card— which is probably for the best because you’re not sure where your wallet is and you’re not coordinated enough to look right now.

You’re on the further side of tipsy, teetering on the edge of pleasantly drunk where nothing makes sense but you’re still somewhat coherent, and everything is funny. Taehyung has almost dipped his paintbrushes in his drink instead of the jar a few times, resulting in a long round of laughter and sore stomachs each time. Eventually, you’d moved his drink to the other side of the canvas and he’d offered you a sheepish smile. 

Surprisingly, your painting doesn’t look too bad, either. Currently it has a bit of a blurry, undefined quality to it, but in your current opinion it kind of works for it. Taehyung’s shoulder did end up making a feature and as the two of you talk you find yourself distractedly painting patterns in the ‘leather’, swirls and hearts and hell, even a few triangles. Eventually, you reach the point where you think that you really can’t do anything more to make the painting better in the time you have, so with a contented sigh you place your brush down and instead turn your attention to Taehyung.

Even as he talks to you and wobbles a little in place, he’s still so incredibly focused in his work, in every detail that meets canvas at the direction of his nimple finngertips, that you don’t think you even see his hand shaking while he paints. Which, your hand was— a lot. It’s the main factor responsible for this one squiggly flower stem in particular you can see in your painting.

As you sit there, happily listening and laughing at each anecdote Taehyung offers you about his life, you find your mind wandering a little bit. Back to the exhibition, and the works and even the way you caught him regarding them. You recognise the critical lens that he viewed them through, because it’s one you adopt yourself for your own creations. Something wells in you, an urge to reassure him in case he ever had any doubts about his own talent; you’re far too many drinks in to be in a place where you can stop yourself.

“Taehyung,” you begin softly but seriously, with minimal slur. He doesn’t stop his motions, but you see him pause for the briefest moment before humming in acknowledgement. “Taehyung, I have to tell you…”

You’re figuring out how to best word your impression of his works and his talent, but you must take longer than you thought because Taehyung lets out a soft huff, giving you a smile that you can’t quite decipher.

“Don’t worry,” he says, flicking the paintbrush back to rest the wooden stem on his knuckles. “I already know I’m not the muse. You don’t have to worry about convincing me.”

For a second, all you’re able to do is blink. Taehyung simply goes back to his painting, expression neutral and his soft hum brushing your ears beneath the soft melody floating from the speakers. You realise quickly that you don’t know what to say to that, and that the full implications of his words haven’t really sunk in yet. He must have noticed that you’d been trying to go around and convince all the suspected subjects that they aren’t the muse of the poem… you feel oddly ashamed, for some reason. Your cheeks feel hot, and not just from the alcohol flush.

“Done!”

Taehyung’s voice breaks you from your reverie, his cheery smile greeting you once more. “All finished?”

You nod, offering a smile of your own and taking the opportunity to say what you wanted to earlier. “Yep. I’m excited to see yours, you’re so incredibly talented, Tae.”

His smile turns shy at that, a bashful laugh tumbling from his lips as he does his best to clean up his area. You do the same, standing up for the first time in a while and having to reach out and stabilise yourself on the table so you don’t fall. The drinks hit you a little harder than you first thought!

“Thank you,” he finally mumbles a few moments later, collecting the brushes. “I’m excited to see yours, too.”

You let out a short laugh at that, knowing that whatever you threw onto that canvas isn’t going to be able to hold a candle to what he made.

Quicker than you can keep track of, the two of you finish tidying and then before you know it you’re saying your goodbyes to the staff and stepping outside. You shiver at the unexpected breeze that greets you, people along the other side of the street huddling together. It’s a windy night and the breeze carries a bit of a bite.

“Oh, right,” Taehyung starts in place, offering his canvas to you. “Careful, it might still be a bit wet…”

Somewhat mindlessly, you swap paintings with him, smiling brightly before your gaze is drawn to the side. By nothing but absolute chance, it passes over the line in front of a bar popular with students at your university, and you almost blink and move on before your eyes halt in familiarity. At the hands of nothing but stupid luck, there is someone you recognise over there. Yoongi stands, face indicating a loud complaint before it even leaves his mouth, and there are a few others around him that he seems to be with who are laughing as they wait in line.

Your head feels so messy, like the wind has managed to get inside your skull and fling everything about like leaves on the autumn breeze. You’re so distracted in the moment that you don’t see it as Taehyung follows the direction of your gaze, and his expression drops. When you jerk out of your reverie, it’s just in time to see his eyes flicking from your painting, to his, and then back to you.

You’re about to peek at his painting and fill the silence with a compliment, but he beats you to it. Something is different about his expression, and not just because he’s no longer under the warm light of the paint bar. The glow you’d noticed so easily earlier seems to have dimmed a bit.

“Did you figure out the theme of the exhibition?”

At his question you startle, gaze flicking to the side as you try and figure it out on instinct on the spot. You’d completely forgotten to think about it, and considering you spent about as much time looking at him as you did his works while at the exhibition, you can safely determine you’re still nowhere closer to the answer. “Ah… no.”

As though drawn like a magnet, your gaze ends up over in the direction of Yoongi for the briefest second. You struggle to tear it away.

“It’s anaxiphilia.”

Even through the inebriation slowing your thoughts, his words reach you immediately. It’s as though your heart has turned to stone and dropped straight through your chest. That unspeakable, unknown emotion wells and bubbles within you, swelling to twice, thrice its size and blocking words before they can even reach your throat. Your eyes are on Taehyung again, but his are still centred where yours had been— had he also noticed Yoongi? You didn’t know they knew each other...

“Oh,” you finally manage, swallowing down that nameless sensation. Taehyung’s gaze slowly slides back to you, dark eyes full of so much… something, you think it would take you years to unpack and familiarise yourself with it all. 

For a second, the two of you stand with your gazes locked, both of you too deep in your own thoughts to do anything about it. Taehyung is the one that breaks the spell. 

“Well, it’s getting late, I shouldn’t keep you out any longer… There is a bus stop here, and tons of ubers in the area…” His eyes flick away as he talks but return as he murmurs this last bit, “Thank you for coming today. I hope you had fun.”

“Of course I did,” you rush, finally finding your voice amongst the shambles in your head. “Thank you for inviting me, Tae. I really… I really needed this. Thank you.”

He nods, smiling at you, but you notice it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Please get home safe,” he says, and you nod immediately, making his gaze soften. “See you later.”

“Bye! Thank you again!” you wave, Taehyung turning quick and already a decent way down the street after his farewell. He offers a wave over his shoulder and you catch it just in time before you turn back, gaze unconsciously seeking out the familiar figure across the road. Distantly, you observe that Yoongi is no longer in line for the bar and has switched to the bubble tea place a few stores down.

Taehyung’s exhibition and it’s theme swim through your mind, a sudden impulse welling within you in response that spurs your legs into a motion. You’re about to go across the road in a sudden spurt of something like bravery, but for some indecipherable reason, you stop before you can get more than a few feet. You turn your head, gaze thrown over your shoulder, eyes seeking without an explicit goal in mind.

You catch sight of him just before he rounds the corner and disappears from view— even from the back Taehyung presents a handsome figure, but in the split-second you manage to view him, the most notable things about his retreating form is the slumped curve of his shoulders and the lowered angle of his head. He’s gone before you can blink leaving you for good this time with nothing but your messy head and the one thought that swims to the surface that says after seeing him glow in happiness for the better part of the evening, sadness doesn’t suit him much at all. 

Clutching the painting, your turn back to the front and try and focus on the present for just a minute or two, like whether you’re going to catch a bus or uber it home, but each time you start a new thought it always brings you back to the odd mix of guilt swirling deep in your gut. There’s something else there, the familiar hollow pit of yearning, but for once… you can’t quite tell who it’s for. 

a/n: thank u so much for reading! i really hope it was worth the wait and that you look forward the future parts as fox rain begins to slowly draw to a close!! pls let us know u liked it w a like and rb and screaming in our inboxes is always ALWAYS welcome!! thank u !! love u !! <3

[ofbloodandbullets]

So it’s recently come to my attention that not everyone in the world has actually watched The Old Guard (WHO KNEW?!) so I’m going to try and do some info dumps about the world, the general canon and Andy’s history, personality, powers etc.  This will ... probably get kinda lengthy. 

Also: MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS FOR COMICS & MOVIE.

The first thing you need to know is that for the main part, the history and the world that TOG takes place in is the exact same one as the real history of the world.  It’s set in modern day, though the plot points stretch back to 7k+ years ago.  It’s also important to note that there is a lot of historical inaccuracies and some things in canon that conflict themselves so it’s best to just take it all with a grain of salt and just go with what works best for your particular preferences etc. 

The main difference between reality and TOG is that in TOG there are a very minute like .00000000002% of the population that are immortals.  Now, it’s important to note that these people can die but they resurrect pretty close to immediately after they die no matter the amount of damage done.  Now it can take some time to fully heal or reform, depending on how extensive the trauma (being blown to bits or burned etc. will take longer to fix but there’s no amount of damage that we know of that can actually keep them dead).  

There are times when, for reasons unknown to the characters in character (or to us as readers  of the comics / viewers of the movie etc) that the immortality just stops.  There’ll just be a time that they suffer injuries that just don’t heal, and they die.  There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to this, be it age, number of times they’ve died, whatever.  Now, I have my own entirely headcanon and personal preference based theory which you can find HERE but it’s totally just a random idea that I had that I liked to explain the loss of Andy’s immortality in the movie (that doesn’t happen in the comics) and lets me say that she regains her immortality post canon so that I can nudge things back in the direction of the comics for post movie plots and so on.

Andy is, as far as we know, and as far as she knows, the oldest (human) immortal, coming in at around 7,000 years old.  She was born into a tribe, the Scythia (hence what she’s generally called: Andromache the Scythian).  A nomadic warrior tribe that I headcanon to be a matriarchy, Andy was betrayed by the ‘queen mother’ when she was sixteen and killed in battle because the leader feared that Andy posed a danger to her continuing rule.  This person was practically a mother to Andy and it was a horrific betrayal.  What was almost as shocking to Andy was the fact that she got back up again after being literally stabbed in the back and killed.

In the vein of trying to thwart prophecies making them happen, Andy killed the matriarch and took her placce ruling the tribe, eventually becoming a God King to her people and ruling over them for hundreds of years until her loneliness absolutely overwhelmed her and one day she just vanished.

At some point after this, she began to dream of a woman, feeling a pull towards this stranger that she couldn’t begin to explain.  After dozens, maybe hundreds of years, she managed to track down the woman in question (Noriko in the comics, Quynh in the movie) and realized that they’d been dreaming of each other.  (In the comics she meets Lykon before Quynh/Noriko, whom she had also been dreaming of).  

Now, the connection between these immortals isn’t explained in canon, and for a long time, Andy, Lykon, Noriko (and eventually Joe, Nicky, Book) thought they were the only ones but there is a scene in the second set of comics that implies that there are other ‘packs’ of immortals.  I headcanon that it’s a ‘like calls to like’ / kind of Sense8 simpatico type thing - like minded souls drawn to each other, which is why Andy and the others didn’t know about the other immortals, but again, that’s just entirely my thoughts on the matter. 

Lykon is the first to succumb to the loss of immortality, a short couple hundreds years after he and Andy find each other.   He dies on a battlefield, one that he and Quynh/Noriko and Andy fought on like a hundred/thousand before, champions for the abused etc.  Skip forward a couple hundred years again and enter Joe & Nicky, a Knight and a Muslim warrior who kill each other on the battlefield only to both wake up and spend (an unspecified amount of time) hunting and killing each other before eventually Andy & Quynh/Noriko find them.  In time, Joe & Nicky realize that they love each other.   (Important to note that Quynh/Noriko and Andy were also lovers).  In the movie, when the first major surge of witch hunts began, Quynh/Noriko and Andy go to help the women that stood accused, only to be captured and accused of witchcraft themselves.  After being hung, drowned, burned at the stake and coming back to life every time, the witch hunters settled on locking Quynh into an iron coffin and dropping her into the ocean.  (In the comics, Noriko is lost at sea during a massive storm that had thrown their ship entirely off course with Andy having no clue where they actually were at the time.) 

Joe & Nicky arrive in time to rescue Andy, but Noriko is already gone and despite spending decades tracking down every person even remotely involved in the so called ‘investigation’ into the women’s inquisition and punishment, Andy wasn’t able to find anything about where Quynh could be. 

Cue angst & depression & guilt for ages after.

The trio still steps in over the following decades, trying to help prevent the worst of atrocities, but Andy quickly begins to spiral into an, at best apathetic, at worst, entirely distant and withdrawn mindset and steadily begins to lose hope that they’re actually making any difference at all.

Skip ahead a century or two and enter Book; a Russian conscript who had been forced into the fight after being convicted of forgery.  Hung for desertion, Book spend days dying over and over again as he hung there, unable to attempt an escape until the troops finally packed up and moved on.   He and Andy, Nicky and Joe meet up and Book kinda reluctantly joins their little group.  It’s revealed that Book dreams, still, of Noriko/Quynh and while he can’t tell where hse is, dreams of her still dying, drowning on the floor of the ocean over and over and over like she had been for the last hundred or two years.  

Book returns at some point to his mortal family which ended in disaster when his last remaining son was dying of cancer, cursing and screaming at Book for ‘choosing not to save him’ by making him immortal too, even though it’s something Book had no ability to transfer or make happen.  Between his nightmares, losing his son and a number of other factors, Book decides he wants to end it all but no matter what he tries, doesn’t die and stay dead.

Eventually he’s approached by a pharmaceutical company that has figured out what he is and wants to run tests on him to see if they can unlock his healing / immortality for other people.  Merrick’s company works in league with an ex CIA agent whose wife died of a horrific terminal disease who hopes that they can find a way to keep anyone else from dying if they don’t have to.    Initially it was just supposed to be him, but he’d set up a display to stream for proof of what he was / they were and the corp decided they wanted all of the immortals.   Book ends up betraying the team, and he and the others end up locked up and tested on / killed / experimented on etc.  

There’s another character introduced in the meantime, the first new immortals in centuries, an American soldier named Niles.  There’s a lot more that goes on here, but the main point is that in the movie, Andy stops healing from her wounds shortly after she tracks down Nile and is put into incredible amounts of danger when Merrick (the leader of the pharmaceutical company) captures Andy, Joe, Book, Nicky.  Book is devastated, Nicky and Joe are furious, Andy’s just tired.

Eventually, Andy and the others break free with Niles’ help, destroy the lab they were originally held in etc and set out to try and hunt down any other proof, lab results, anything that Merrick got his hands on during the tests.

The group meets and settles on a hundred year exile for Booker (which I think is one of the stupidest things - like, the man’s clearly desperate and depressed and lonely and mentally unstable so by all means let’s isolate him for a fully century) and at the end of the movie we see him stumbling home to his apartment six months later to find Quynh standing in his apartment, pouring and drinking a glass of water which is a whole power move considering how many millions of times she died by drowning.

In the comics, Quynh/Noriko was driven entirely mad and to the point of wanting vengeance against Andy for abandoning her and spends a while gaslighting Andy and torturing her physically and emotionally and what not until she manages to isolate Andy from the other immortals and scoops in to ‘rescue’ Andy.  IDK what they’re going to adapt this to in the second movie, 

Again, via the link posted above, my Andy slowly begins to regain her immortality (again, IDK what they’re going to do with the next movie).  

Uhhhh yeah.  So I .. think that’s the majority of what you need to know for canon info about Andy.  THIS is also an important PSA regarding my Andy’s history & her longest lasting relationship that has nothing to do with canon at all but that is part of Andy’s bg in every verse, even if it never comes into play.

[miaclemeverett]

Wilbur, Fundy, and Purpled were interviewed for this great article on the Dream SMP and the Minecraft community! Full article below the cut. 

"Minecraft" launched over a decade ago and the video game is as popular as ever. With over 126 million players worldwide, the voxel-based survival game drops adventurers into a world where they can craft, build, explore, destroy, and create to their heart's content. Aided by tools, blocks, and creativity, the simple sandbox world allows anyone on PC, console, or smartphone the chance to project their own feelings and creations directly into their virtual space.

"As long as you have the mind for it, you can really just do anything," 17-year-old "Minecraft" YouTuber Purpled, who has 700,000 subscribers, told Insider. "Because of how simple Minecraft is and how easy it is to build with it, you can create whatever you want."

In recent years, Microsoft's never-ending game has evolved into a tool for content creators to express themselves, leading to high-profile collaborations with some of YouTube's biggest personalities. By creating their own private "Minecraft" servers, creators have been able to craft ornate worlds and stories that they can explore in streams and videos, immersing fans in a cinematic-style universe.

Minecraft has a long history on YouTube

"Minecraft's" versatility has made it an incredibly popular game for content creators and influencers. In 2012, a change in YouTube's algorithm promoting watch time over video clicks led to a renaissance of "Let's Players" who recorded themselves reacting and playing their favorite games. "Minecraft" was one of the most successful, spawning some of the largest channels of the time like SkyDoesMinecraft (11.3 million subscribers) and Tobuscus (6.25 million subs).

Though the popularity of "Minecraft" remained fairly steady, content about the title waned a bit over the next decade either due to content fatigue or newer titles like "Fortnite" taking the spotlight. 2020 flipped the title back into the forefront, with both streamers and YouTubers capitalizing on the title's popularity.  

The biggest breakout star for "Minecraft" in the past few years is Dream, an expert, faceless player with a neon-green avatar with over 17 million YouTube subscribers. YouTube labeled him the second overall content creator of the year and his streams consistently pull in a quarter of a million people.

In May of 2020, Dream decided to create a small, private server for his friends to play around in. This SMP server, or "survival multiplayer," started off with only a handful of content creators being invited. Soon, the server would expand to over 30 members, bringing in millions of views from fans who chronicle every moment of the lore the creators eventually created.

Viewership on Twitch of "Minecraft" content went from 17 million hours watched in January 2020 to 74 million in January of 2021, according to data from analytics company Rainmaker.gg.  

How the Dream SMP grew from a private server with friends to a cultural milestone

Purpled has been playing "Minecraft" for the past eight years and is a high-ranking player in a multiplayer game mode called "Bed Wars." He had started talking to Dream in the summer of 2019, when the pair were both small, mutual fans.

"When the SMP was in its infancy, I just asked him if there was any room because he said how it's just for friends and if a friend wants to join, they can," Purpled said. "So I asked him, he said, 'Sure.' He sent me the IP and I was in."

The server was originally just a place to create and hangout, with no intention of creating an overarching story or plot.

Fundy, a 19-year-old Dutch YouTuber with 2.7 million subscribers joined when only a handful of other creators were on."I had talked to Dream on a few occasions, out-of-the-blue Dream sent me a message about a survival world that they had going on. It was very small at first," Fundy said. "I thought it could be a fun little side-project I could stream every now and then on Twitch, so I decided to join."

Fundy joined in the early days alongside Wilbur Soot, a 23-year-old YouTuber with 3.8 million subscribers. Soot, after attempting to create an "illegal potion shop" on the server, decided to establish a nation of non-Americans players called L'Manberg. Soot said he wrote a "treatment" for how the formation of his country would go, creating an official canon that fans could follow along with.

"I was invited into the Dream SMP near its inception but I only joined fully when I had an idea for building a country in 'Minecraft'," Soot said. "I write up a series of plot hooks and points that should tie together, however we improv dialogue and comedy throughout to take us from point to point."

These streams and pieces of content all had a canon that could be followed and consumed like a television show. L'Manberg eventually started a war against Dream for its independence, staging a rebellion chronicled in YouTube videos with millions of views.

These streams and videos aren't just randoms in "Minecraft" trying to defeat the end-game Ender Dragon — these are performers putting on a show that their fans can't miss. As the lore expanded, so did the rules needed to keep a sense of continuity and order. For example, each player only has three lives before they are removed and deleted from the server.

"It went from a casual survival game to a whole story-line filled with plots and twists," Fundy said. "Role-playing at this point is a key-feature of the Dream SMP, some parts are scripted, some parts are improv, and some parts are 'non-canon,' where it is just counted as a standard 'Minecraft' server."

The fan communities have risen up and made their voices heard

Over the next few months, the lore and world would continue to grow and so would the fan base. Hundreds of thousands of viewers would tune in for these streams, trying to keep up with the lore and content. To help catalog the story, a network of fans established themselves as lore keepers, documenting each moment for those that had to miss a stream.  

The "DREAMSMP UPDATES!" account on Twitter has established itself as one of the most popular locations to find all this content and lore on social media. Starting in December 2020, the account has grown to over 147,000 users with just a team of seven administrators, ages 14-17, in different locations around the world, posting updates and stream notifications for fans. "Minecraft" is a game that appeals to all ages, but the audience for this content tends to skew younger, with 41 percent of Twitch's user base being 16 to 24, according to GlobalWebIndex.

"You can tell they're all friends and it's a lot more lighthearted in general and it shows," mod on the "DREAMSMP UPDATES!" Twitter account eclaire said over chat app Discord. "When it's not lore you see them actually having good chemistry and it really pulls you in because it almost feels like being pulled into a friend group."

User SamHQ first started the fan account with a couple of friends from high school but the group quickly expanded after the account tweeted that they needed more fans of certain streamers to join. She is online and runs the account "24/7" but "it's just like answering a text."

"When I started the account I knew lots of people who couldn't catch up because of work or school," SamHQ said. "So I gathered friends to help and now people rely on us when someone's streaming or to catch up with the lore when they can't watch."

For the fans that run the update account, keeping up with the Dream SMP isn't dissimilar to following the Marvel Cinematic Universe or a long-running television show. Characters come and go, but the improv and roleplay stay.

"The Dream SMP did something really special — taking an original idea, creating new things that have never been seen on 'Minecraft' and incorporating them with humor and characters that you can become easily attached with," mod NotAlex said.

Though other SMP roleplay servers, like EarthSMP and SMPLive, have been created over the years, none have been as successful or popular as the Dream SMP.

Finding a fan base on the Dream SMP can lead to major growth.

For the performers on the server, addressing fans and their responses comes with the territory.

"The Dream SMP viewers are very important to the Dream SMP, and the fact that they openly speak their mind about how a certain stream went only helps the streamers improve," Fundy said. "It's basically an instant review of what was liked and what wasn't."

Like most major fandoms with a young audience, fanfiction of these streamers has popped up online. Dozens of Dream fics and drawings exist online, some going a bit far and putting underage characters together. Dream responded on Twitter to those "ships," writing that they shouldn't "ship creators that are uncomfortable with it, and especially not minors."

The Dream stans, or the super fans, also tend to be very vocal online about the SMP. Hashtags on Twitter like #dreamnotfound and #dreamfanart consistently break-through to the trending page, confusing those who have no idea this world exists. The most ferocious of stans sometimes overstep the boundary between polite disagreement and outright harassment. This vocal minority has sent death threats and waves of harassment at those who criticize or disagree with their favorite content creators.  

The growth and future of these channels is in large part due to the Dream SMP server

The popularity of Dream SMP has helped grow the content creators that take part in it. Since joining the server, Purpled is gaining three times as many subscribers a month on YouTube and has been introduced to an entirely new fan base. His streams used to pull in 3,000 viewers but now his average is closer to 35,000 to 40,000 viewers.

"Some people think of them as obsessive or stalker fans, but those are people that really like to talk about certain creators and really get invested in things," Purpled said. "And it's really nice because they care a lot more and connect more with the creator than the content."

These creators understand the power of the fan base and know that they come for the content.

"I think the Dream SMP is popular thanks to the brilliant creators and funny improv moments," Soot said. "I think we'll be seeing the emergence of a huge wave of roleplay-centric gaming communities."

[lightns881]

DTeam Tumblr Demographics Survey Results (Part 2):

What does DTeamblr look like, what does it have to do with MCYT history, and why does it look like a rainbow?

I’ll make an educated guess here and say y'all enjoyed my last post (totally unrelated to the way I gained almost 50 followers overnight). Anyhow, thank you so much for the overwhelming support! I’m so glad a lot of you felt you could relate to my deep-dive into the leading personality type on DTeam Tumblr. It took me so many hours to write and research, and as a math major and honors student, it’s no easy feat, so I’m so grateful for the attention it got!

Today we’re discussing the general demographics of DTeam Tumblr and why they might look the way they do. Number 8 will blow your mind! So make sure to keep reading and hit that little grey heart and arrow at the bottom if you like it, so more people get to see it! Thanks for your support! Now, let’s jump straight into the post!

Your Daily Dose of Data

From the 449 responses we received, these are some pie charts displaying the gender, age, and sexuality of all respondents.

Image Description: Female (52.8%), Non-Binary (37.4%), Male (9.8%)

Image Description: 16-17 (37%), 13-15 (31.4%), 18 and over (29.4%), 12 and under (2.2%)

Image Description: Bisexual/Pansexual (54.1%), Homosexual (16%), Asexual (14.7%), Other (7.8%), Heterosexual (7.3%)

Mmhm, delicious! Y'all ready to dig into these stats? Because I don’t know about you, but they certainly don’t strike me as what the general population looks like!

Welcome to Tumblr, the Only Community Where Straight Men are the Minority

So these statistics certainly didn’t take me by surprise. Mostly because the DNF Shipper Survey I took some time ago revealed a similar trend. Not to mention, Tumblr is probably the QUEEREST internet community on the planet. 

Funny enough, the survey revealed a shocking number of ZERO heterosexual males respondents. I’ll say it louder for the people in the back. ZERO straight males were recorded out of 449 respondents for this survey!

Now, this isn’t surprising for the Tumblr community by itself, but I can say I’m somewhat surprised in terms of the MCYT Tumblr community. (Obviously, the survey specified DTeam Tumblr, but there is a big overlap between both communities, so I will be using them interchengably when it seems relevant.)

Let’s break this down. The survey reveals the largest age population is 16-17, though it’s not by a great margin in comparison to 13-15 and 18 and older, which doesn’t surprise me either. Some of the major critics of the DTeam Fandom and other MCYT Fandoms love to claim the fanbase’s majority age range lies with children and pre-teens. While it’s an undeniable fact children are drawn to Minecraft, it’s also a misconception to paint it as solely a community for younger viewers.

In the MCYT Tumblr and DTeam Tumblr communities, specifically, we see this is not the case. Only 1/3 of the respondents of this survey are under the age of 16 (you could attribute part of it to the fact younger people might be less inclined to participate in this survey, but it is still a notable difference). I can’t say these age ranges are similar in other parts of the community like DTeam Twitter, Tik Tok, or Reddit, but if I had to make a guess, I’d say Tumblr lies toward the older of the bunch, with Reddit being the oldest and Tik Tok being the youngest (I do hope to perform this survey on some of the other communities, so please stay until the end if you want to help with that).

One of the likely explanations to why the ages for DTeam Tumblr look this way is the fact a big chunk of the community has likely been watching MCYT for a long time (even with breaks in between). I, myself, used to watch channels like PopularMMOs, Aphmau, and PrestonPlayz as a kid, and I presume many of you are familiar with them as well. With the resurgence of MCYT in the past year, it likely drew a lot of the older viewers in addition to the new ones.

But enough about age. What I really want to highlight on this post is the attraction of queer individuals to DTeam Tumblr and MCYT as a whole.

Why is the current MCYT Fandom so queer in comparison to the previous generations?

This is a huge open-ended question and considering I can only capture so much of the DTeam and MCYT community, the rest of this post should be taken solely as a theoretical analysis as opposed to fact.

With that out of the way, let’s start by discussing the shift MCYT has undergone over the years (I promise this will circle back to the question of queerness in the MCYT fandom, but we need some background before we can come up with a decent theory).

When Minecraft was first released, it proved to be a monumental change in the gaming industry. This simple little indie game took the world by storm. It was so vastly different from what the general population generally viewed gaming as (first-person shooters, story-driven games, action games, etc.) Not to mention, it didn’t exactly solely appeal to only a small margin of gamers, those being white cis males.

The gaming industry has notoriously been known in the past for its heteronormative community and general prejudice toward minorities. Though it has gone through a significant change over the decades, we certainly can’t say it’s fully gone.

Yet for whatever reason, the recent MCYT has taken the interest of so many queer people in comparison to other gaming YouTube communities. Why? Why are queer people so drawn to this community? And, more precisely, why does it feel so different than the old MCYT? Lastly, how does this relate to the conclusion about the leading personalities of this fandom we made in the last post?

The Niche Communities of MCYT Over the Years

MCYT has always been a huge, over-saturated genre of YouTube with content appealing to a variety of audiences. It’s dominated gaming content for years, and I think we can all safely say it’s never been bigger than it is today.

So why is it that just now it feels like the queerness of the fandom is popping off? Why now as opposed to say five years ago when MCYT was at another one of it’s strongest stages?

It seems like the community has made a tremendous shift in relation to breaking gender norms and LGBTQ+ subjects, not only in the fans but within the creators themselves. Was flirting and calling a pretty-boy streamer pet names as normal in the past as it is today? Were straight gamer guys putting on dresses and a full-face of make-up as supported back then? Were “marriages” and “pregnancies” within Minecraft boys an everyday occurrence like they are now? How is it that MCYT has dominated a Twitch dating show where flirting with the gay host and among straight contestants themselves is just another bit of entertainment? Where is this all coming from?

Recently, I watched a 2 hour documentary depicting all of the stages of Minecraft YouTube and how it has changed over the years. If you haven’t seen it and you have some time to spare, I HIGHLY recommend it! It’s very informative, and it honestly gave me such a strong sense of nostalgia that makes me choke up every time I think about it. I’ll link it below.

The documentary does a great job at exploring the different niche communities that dominated MCYT since it first took off. Some of such communities include the basic Let’s Players, the team-based Let’s Play channels like How2Minecraft, the roleplay story-centric ones like Aphmau and Samgladiator, the tutorial, building and technical side like Mumbo and Grian, the PVP-centric Bedwars or Hypixel channels, the Machinima community, the comedy side like ExplosiveTNT, the parody music videos, and so many more. All of the mentioned communities have dominated Minecraft at one point or another, many of them still having a rippling effect and/or a loyal community today. All of these communities have certain aspects that define them, some of which parallel the current overtaking content in the present.

How can we compare MyStreet to the Dream SMP?

Taking Aphmau as an example, her MyStreet series had a TREMENDOUS success a few years ago, racking in millions of views and bringing in a lot of money that eventually allowed her to hire voice actors and increase the production of mentioned episodes. The roleplay series was so successful it ran for six seasons!

Now, let’s compare that to the Dream SMP. It seems like a big comparison to be making considering they appear so different at first glance. For once, Aphmau is just one channel whose audience caters toward girls and younger people who enjoy romance. The series is set-up in an episodic-format that resembles more of a TV series than actual Minecraft videos.

Meanwhile, the Dream SMP is a collection of content creators with a mix of improvised storylines and the occasional regular video that resembles more of a Let’s Play series than a RP series.

You could say the only true comparisons to draw out of these two are the popularity they had/have and the profit they brought to their respective creators. 

However, there’s two other key similarities that you’ll find not only within these two specific examples, but many other channels and communities as well. Story and characters.

MyStreet’s story aspect is fairly obvious seeing as it’s a episodic series that focuses on a fictional story. The Dream SMP’s story aspect isn’t as clear, but it’s evident there is a story playing out in the foreground and background, whether intentional or unintentional, or improvised or not.

Character is where some of you might start to question me. It’s obvious MyStreet has characters. I mean, it is a fictional story, after all. But the Dream SMP? Light, they’re obviously people!

Well, my answer to that is yes and no--sort of. The Dream SMP’s story heavily relies on roleplay, bits as you might call them. Events that aren’t necessarily planned out as a fictional plot like the typical MyStreet episode is, but they aren’t exactly real. Schlatt is obviously not a villain in real life, he just likes to impersonate as one for the narrative. Wilbur isn’t crazy, but it’s a way to spice up the heroic story surrounding Tommy and him.

It’s video-game improv. Except the actors behind the content just so happen to be real people playing off the personalities and “brands” they have obtained. 

Brands. It all boils down to this. In the entertainment business, without a clear vision of your project and a clear way to brand what your consumer intakes, your project will likely not find a lot of success.

There’s a reason why Tommy plays off his loudness, using an overexaggerated laugh that although may not be completely fake, it is likely not the laugh he uses everyday. Or why BadBoyHalo is this supposed innocent muffin who doesn’t understand the crafting table meme and other references that are fairly easy to google and find the meaning of. Or why Sapnap is this chaotic being who loves starting pet wars and we love to paint as an arsonist in the Dream SMP. While all of these personality traits may be a part of their true selves, they’re played up for the camera--for the story. They act as the personas that define their characters in the narrative.

They have a clear brand and vision that appeals to the audience and makes them tune in on the daily to see how they all come together. It’s like roleplaying a more extreme version of yourself, one that brings home the money.

Story and characters run across every entertainment outlet. They define their brand. Aphmau has her characters and series. Hermitcraft has a set of memorable personalities and episodic videos that formulate its own story that is less like a narrative and more of a history of the server. ExplodingTNT has his recurring cast and comedic sketches. Most of these niche communities have a form of story and character defining them. It’s how they achieve a clear sense of branding and cater to a specific audience.

Queer Theory in MCYT

Having said all that, why does the MCYT of today draw in so many queer viewers?

Let’s think about this. In my last post, I ended by mentioning DTeam Tumblr is a sort of safe haven for INFP and INxx types who might be placed in the “other” category by society. INFPs, specially, are predisposed for escapism--one common form of it being fiction and entertainment. Not to mention, INFPs are feeling types who, as introverts, seek a personable connection. It’s why it’s so easy for them to obsess over book characters or fall in love with content creators.

Now, let’s imagine a whole community of LGBTQ+ INFP and INxx types. Actually, scratch that, we don’t even have to imagine it.

It’s what our community looks like today.

And why are so many so drawn to the DTeam and Dream SMP of all things? It’s a personable storyline that essentially forms a direct tie to the viewer. Unlike pre-recorded fictional TV series you tune into on your device, the Dream SMP is a whole load of chaos that blurs the lines between reality and fiction where fans can directly connect to creators and get to know them as people through a storyline that features sub-textual queer themes and non-conforming behaviors.

The MCYT content creator community of today is more non-conforming than ever before, and knowing this whole fact, knowing that many of them might place themselves in the “other” category or at the very least aren’t afraid to break the norms and be seen in that light, is a comfort in itself for LGBTQ+ INFP types. Once again, it’s a safe space that helps you escape from the troubles of real life, one you relate to.

Okay. So although this does answer why the fans look like they do, what about the creators themselves? Are we really supposed to believe this all came through naturally? That a bunch of straight guys suddenly decided wearing dresses was something they wanted to do?

I don’t mean to sound cynical here, and I’m in no way trying to insinuate creators have solely some sort of corrupt ulterior motive. Things are never as simple as they look. However, the truth is, a part of it lies on the attention it’s gotten.

I’ve talked a lot about DreamNotFound and the way Dream uses it as a marketing ploy. I stand by my point. However, he’s not the only one who does this in the MCYT community. Why did Finn suddenly go from wearing a dress to cross-dressing as a girl for a whole week? Why are so many creators suddenly deciding wearing dresses is fun? Why does every freaking straight MCYT actively want to flirt with George nowadays?

Let’s just let Techno’s favorite word answer this for us: clout.

It gets attention from one of the largest historically underserved minority community in the entertainment business. We might not be able to see gay flirting in every Netflix TV show or guys not minding dresses and getting fake marriages, but you are certainly going to get at least one of those in every Dream SMP stream and video you tune into. It gets attention. It brings home the money. And do I blame them? Not really.

Interestingly enough, there’s a lot of analytical posts on the MCYT Tumblr community that discuss the dangers of these tactics and why gay jokes and the way queer subtext is treated by MCYT creators is harmful. Despite this, it still attracts such a huge community of queers. So why exactly would queer people actively watch something that’s offensive or harmful to us?

I have a lot more to say about this topic and the morality behind Dream’s tactics, but I’m out of breath for today, so I’ll talk about it in my next post. What better way to start the conversation about the DNF and Karlnap questions of the survey than a good ol’ discussion on the morality of queerbaiting and the likes?

If you got this far, I’d appreciate it if you liked and reblogged this post if you enjoyed it and/or learned something new! Also, important news, I would really like to perform a similar study on the DTeam Twitter Community to measure the differences in demographics across platforms. I would REALLY appreciate it if you guys could go like, retweet and share the link I posted on my Twitter about it (tweet will be linked in the reblog below) so it reaches more of the DTeam Twitter community!

However, if you filled out the survey yourself here or you associate more with DTeam Tumblr than DTeam Twitter please DO NOT fill out the survey again! I’m trying to make sure it reaches the audience that mains on Twitter, but I need a little help with that since I don’t have as big of an influence on Twitter than on here for obvious reasons.

Anyhow, thank you so much for all your support! I really appreciate y’all and make sure to hit the follow if you want to lookout for the next demographics post! <3

(Pssst, I’m releasing a MCYT DNF superpower AU longfic next month... You should totally go check out the post on that if you’re interested in it...)

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Together, We’re Just Better Off

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my “new look” bingo square fill for @starkerfestivals January event - I love the look of Tom in a nice suit & just kind of went from there!  Word Count: ~4.7K Warnings: This is strictly NSFW (there be smut ahead, y’all!) Summary: 

For this year's Parker Tech silent auction, Peter decides to get a custom suit made - the result is a randy Tony and porn without much plot.

Read on AO3 here.

Tony was in trouble.

There was no other way to describe the feeling in his chest when Peter walked down the stairs after two hours of secretive getting ready for the annual Parker Tech silent auction.

Standing on the last stair, Peter looked – obscenely sexy. The brand new, custom made, charcoal colored suit hugged every line of his husband’s body in a way that shouldn’t be legal. The cut of the pants made his slim legs look miles long, the snug fit of the jacket tapering off just right at the cusp of narrow hips. Adding the slightest dash of color, Peter paired the grey suit with a dark green button up, the top two buttons undone – the slightest flash of smooth chest the penultimate addition to the entire outfit.

The dark color of the shirt brought out Peter’s eyes, and when he looked up, the most confident facial expression sat on blush painted cheeks. It took Tony a second to remember to breath, their eyes meeting with a spark of electricity that felt tangible in the few feet of space between them. The need to eat Peter alive sat low in Tony’s belly, the muscles in his legs loading up in desperate preparation to pounce – the tantalizing idea of Peter under him in that very second almost enough to beat out the rest of his higher brain function.

Shaking his head, a millisecond before he acted on his animal instinct, Tony brought himself back from the cusp of ruining Peter’s tailored made suit – but only just barely. His fist clenched tight at his side, the delicate throb of his half-hard cock against the seam of his own suit pants just enough stimulus to keep him grounded.

Instead of pouncing, Tony took measured steps towards Peter – the space between them narrowing down to inches. When finally within touching distance, Tony reached out to rest his hands on Peter’s hip, the soft fabric of the delicious suit as lovely as the aesthetic it portrayed. Gripping slightly, Tony tugged until they were pressed flush together, Peter’s chest warm and firm against his own.

“If you had any idea what I wanted to do to you right now, Pete.” Tony whispered, his lips pressing against Peter’s ear, breath brushing against the smooth skin there. “It shouldn’t be possible – you looking this fucking good. How am I supposed to focus tonight? Or get anything done?” He peppered kisses down Peter’s jaw and neck as he spoke, goosebumps following in his wake.

“I’ll have Obie following me around all night, desperately attempting to get my attention – but I won’t be able to focus. Not when I’ll be able to look across the room and see your ass so delightfully encased in pants that are so sinful; so fucking distracting, Peter – even now.” Tony drew back then, his lips finally finding Peter’s for a softly teasing kiss – “who do you think you are?”

The chuckle against his lips made the heat in Tony’s belly burn a little hotter – Peter knew the exact effect he was having, the knowledge of being not only attractive, but dangerously so, giving the younger man a sort of fuel that stoked a different kind of fire. Already the smartest person in the room, Peter armed with anything extraneous at all was frighteningly perilous. His aura spoke of curiosity and excitement, a cocktail of things that always proved interesting for Tony – especially in such a public setting.

Peter drew away after a minute, there kisses settling down to just the barest press of lip on lip. “I know exactly who I am, Tony Parker – your husband, the very one who will be teasing you to within an inch of your life while we play nice. The one who, when we can finally sneak away from our own event, will let you strip me down, piece by piece, until there’s bare canvas for you to do whatever you wish with.”

Kissing his forehead, Peter let his lips rest there, each gust of warm air making Tony’s skin tingle. “That’s who I am.”

Tony let a groan fall from his lips, every one of Peter’s words caressing his skin with liquid fire, only to settle in the depths of his belly where the boiling pit of heat was steadily gaining height – the prospect of combustion a real threat.

He grabbed one of Peter’s hands where they took up residence on Tony’s shoulders, his fingers tight on a pale wrist. Bringing it down between them, Tony brushed Peter’s knuckles against the already insistent bulge there – both men sucking in a breath at first contact. “You’re going to kill me. Death by unresolved want.”

Peter wiggled his hand until he could turn it around, his palm all of the sudden pressing hotly against Tony’s cock. “Just be good, Tony. I’ll let you have what we both want.”

Letting their lips touch ever so slightly, Peter gave Tony one more squeeze before pulling away, the space between them once again huge – every inch feeling like a million miles apart.

Tony felt Peter’s eyes roam over him, the rich chocolate of them almost entirely taken over by blown pupils, making his stare dark and inviting. Every inch was taken in, from the fine Italian leather shoes on his feet to the purposefully done bed-head hairdo at the top of his head. The gaze made him stand a little straighter, Tony’s cheeks reddening with a flush he couldn’t push down.

“You look pretty damn good yourself. Love the all black on you.” Peter seemed to want to take a step back into his orbit but thought better of it – his hands slipped into tight pockets, feet shifting, instead. “Getting through the night might be a challenge for us both.”

And it was – if the leering stares and hidden touches were anything to go by. Having gone into business together as equal partners after their first year of marriage, both Tony and Peter were in high demand; everyone wanted to speak with the brains behind the operation. Tony spearheaded the design elements, while Peter manufactured and created all of the brilliance that came from Tony’s ideas – which usually meant both were detained in their own conversations throughout a good majority of every event.

Yet, for some reason, the space between them seemed even bigger than usual. Tony’s fingers ached to press against Peter’s lower back, his skin burning with need. When he couldn’t see Peter in any direction, Tony’s brain wandered to the perfect rendition of Peter’s silhouette in his thoughts – the visual so very distracting. So distracting in fact, Tony found himself unable to really follow any of the conversations he attempted to be immersed in. In all ways, Peter owned him; his entire body so wrapped up it was impossible to focus.

Any time he could, Tony circled back to Peter, their bodies pressing tightly against each other each time he felt the need to approach. Though the encounters were always brief before one of them got swept away by someone else needing to talk to them about some sort of bull shit, Tony felt able to catch his breath and refocus – as if Peter’s touch was his grounding force, a simple moment of contact just enough to refresh him for the minutes to come.

Despite the dynamic tension between them growing with every second, the event went off pretty swimmingly. Most of the things up for auction were donated by people within the crowd (who would unsurprisingly bid on their own junk, just because they could). The alcohol flowed nicely, each guest spending most of the evening with never-ending champagne in their hands and the slightest bit of rose tint on their cheeks from the constant drinking. Items sold, speeches were made, and money was collected – a through and through success.

When neither could stand it any longer, Tony made a couple of excuses before grabbing Peter and making a hasty exit. Warm fingers slid into the gaps of his own, Peter squeezing the digits in an attempt to make the touch a little closer – anything to make the connection between them more solid.

In leaving early, Tony decided to leave the Audi with the parking attendants, the two of them stumbling home hand-in-hand – the crisp, cool night air dulling the fire building between them down just enough to actually get back to the penthouse without any public indecency charges. It pushed the control of their patience, letting their hands and the occasional brush of their sides be the only point of contact until they got into the bedroom; but when Peter started to strip without a word being said, Tony knew it was worth it.

Shrugging out of his suit jacket, Tony sat at the edge of their bed, his fingers distractedly undoing the buttons of his shirt – his hazel eyes laser focused on Peter’s movements. As each piece of gorgeously tailored clothing hit the floor, Tony’s anticipation and want skyrocketed, his cock hard as nails before Peter’s pants were completely undone – the fly just barely down enough to reveal the answering bulge of want.

Tony managed to get his shirt off before attempting to get off the bed and reach for Peter. His husband shut down the move pretty quickly, however, his brows quirking as he spoke. “Mm, I don’t think so. Just sit there, Tones – watch me.”

Unable to do anything other than what was asked of him, Tony quickly shed his shoes and socks, pants following along a few seconds later. Down to just his boxer-briefs, Tony let himself lean back and watch the rest of the reveal – his plan of attack starting to culminate with each new inch of bare skin on display. His fingers itched to touch; the feeling of what Tony knew to be completely smooth skin something he felt starving for.

Before he could fathom it, Tony found himself with a lapful of Peter Parker, his husband now completely naked – the strong thighs straddling him squeezing as calloused hands moved to grip slim hips. Too distracted by pale skin, he wasn’t quite ready for the real thing so suddenly thrust upon him. Tony’s cock throbbed with want as Peter settled firmly on his legs, his cock nestled so nicely against the crease of Peter’s ass.

Wrapping his arms around Peter’s hips, Tony pressed up and forward, his lips seeking out the warm expanse of flesh. He nestled his nose in the slope of Peter’s clavicle, tongue peeking out to trace the sharp bone. As he worked his mouth along traps and up the length of Peter’s neck, Tony let his hands trail along hard planes of muscle, the tips of his fingers tracing the light dusting of hair coating Peter’s pale skin.

Peter worked his hips teasing over Tony’s cock as he let his husband take his fill – the slide of his boxer-briefs against an over-sensitive cock drawing long moans from Tony’s chest each time he let himself come up for air. The motion was hypnotizing, the tease of Peter’s warm hole like a siren calling his name.

Not willing to wait any longer, Tony grabbed under Peter’s thighs, hefting him up enough to turn and switch their positions – Peter’s legs splayed open wide when he hit the bed, the space there quickly occupied by the length of Tony’s body. Before getting comfortable in the warm press of their bodies against each other, Tony wiggled out of his boxer-briefs until they were finally skin to skin, both parties stark naked and eager for what was to come next.

For a while, the only sounds in the room were panted breaths and the slick suction of lip against lip or lip against skin. Tony trailed his tongue from the small divot between Peter’s collar bones, down along rippling six pack abs until he reached his destination – an excited cock pressing against his chin upon arrival. He let the tip of his tongue fall into the crevice of a deep belly button before finally peeking out to lick across the purpling tip of Peter’s already leaking cock. The bitter saltiness of pre-cum made his mouth water, Tony’s lips opening just enough to suck and tongue up the leakage.

Strong fingers found their way into Tony’s hair, Peter’s hips rising in hopes of getting more of his length inside the wet warmth of a talented mouth. Reaching up, Tony gripped Peter’s hand, his fingers signaling the other man to grab on a little tighter. With a sudden burst of energy, Tony opened wide, taking the entire length of Peter’s cock into his mouth, only stopping when the tip hit the back of his throat. After the initial reflex to gag passed, his throat relaxed enough for Tony to comfortably start bobbing his head.

“Fuck, Tony – you always surprise me with that move,” Peter panted out, his fingers loosening and tightening rhythmically in Tony’s hair with every move and bob of his head. “You suck my cock so well, baby.”

As if he were highlighting his words, Peter let his hips come up off the bed, the move pressing his cock even further down Tony’s throat. Giving no sign of resistance, Tony tried to relax further, his hands that were grasping Peter’s hips tightly slipped down until both ass cheeks fit within the palm of his hands – his fingers gripping until Peter caught the drift and started to thrust.

It started out gradually, Peter moving into his mouth with the smallest of thrusts. Tightening his mouth around the rigid length, Tony brought his eyes up, the honey hazel of his stare meeting chocolate brown of Peter’s. The silent conversation that took place spoke volumes, and within minutes, Peter was recklessly pressing his cock in and out of the depth of Tony’s throat – the gags and moans of their push and pull echoing around the otherwise silent room. Hearing it made the heat in Tony’s belly simmer hotter, his cock hard and sticky against his own stomach.

With every intention to get Peter off before the fun really began, Tony redoubled his efforts – the rawness of his throat making it easy to take thrust after thrust. His own hips pressed down against the mattress, the slightest bit of friction just enough to keep Tony from going completely crazy because of the heart rushing arousal continuously pulsing through him. His body felt like it was on fire – the throb and growth of Peter’s cock in his mouth the biggest catalyst to the coursing desire.

By the time Peter’s fingers were tightening in his hair, Tony’s mouth was red and abused, spit dripping down his chin and neck readily – any sort of residual embarrassment gone; Tony’s only thought revolving around making his husband cum as soon as possible. With every second that past, Peter’s huffs of breath got a little quicker, the pitch reaching a new height the closer to orgasm he got.

“Jesus, fuck – I’m going to come, Tony. I can’t – I can’t…” Peter babbled, his hips stuttering in their thrusts, the fingers in Tony’s hair tight, each strand so close to being yanked out by the root. His final gurgle brought a sound from Tony’s chest, the noise spit slick and muddled. With a final thrust, Peter fell apart, his loud shout like the sweetest music.

Letting him settle, Tony kept his mouth around Peter until his husband was pulling away, his spent cock pulsing from the oversensitivity. He shifted away then, Tony sitting up slightly to pull in several deep breaths, his jaw tight and tired from being open and extended for so long. The lactic acid already starting to accumulate there was worth it, Peter’s fucked-out look sending a whole new wave to Tony’s center.

“You should turn over,” Tony mumbled as his hand tapped at Peter’s hip – the man already moving to oblige before all the words were out of his mouth. Peter looked so damn good that way – his weight equally distributed between forearms and knees, pert ass spread and on display. With no hesitation at all, Tony pressed his nose to Peter’s crease, his lungs drawing in a deep breath – the scent and sensation forcing his eyes closed. Here soon, Tony would be buried deep within that delicate heat. His cock would be encased so perfectly, like every inch of Peter was made for him, not just his beautiful brain and intricate personality.

He caught Peter looking back over his shoulder, glazed eyes taking in every one of Tony’s movements. A soft smile graced his lips, the laziness of post-orgasm making him that much more beautiful.

“Hurry, Tones – I can’t wait to feel you inside of me.” Thrusting his hips back, Peter spread his legs a little wider, the soft pink of his hole enticing; the view upping the ante.

Impatient to once again exist within Peter’s tight heat, Tony dragged the bedside table drawer open, his fingers hastily wrapping around the half-used bottle of lube. He settled back between Peter’s legs, the bottle resting against his knee while he used both hands to spread pert cheeks. His tongue darted out, the tip brushing against the furled muscle.

Peter shouted out a moan, the slick heat of Tony’s tongue causing him to press his hips back, the move a desperate attempt to get more of him; tongue, teeth, fingers – whatever Tony wanted to give.

The earlier thought of eating Peter alive came back tenfold, each pass of his tongue bringing the musky taste of his husband’s most private place to the forefront of his attention. It felt good to consume Peter’s very essence. There were so many ways Tony’s couldn’t possess every inch of him that times like this were fucking intoxicating; every inch of Peter’s body called out to him, Tony’s touches an irresistible stimulus that neither wanted to ever give up. If he couldn’t have him all the time, Tony would cherish the hell out of the times he could.

Fumbling blindly for the bottle of lube, Tony lapped at Peter’s hole distractedly, his hands working hard to get the tube open and the slick on his fingers. The lube was cold on his molten skin – runny liquid warming up quickly up contact. It felt absurd to give up his mouth’s position, the tightness of Peter’s hole around his eager tongue delicious but never enough. Yet, the desperate urge to finally be buried inside spurred Tony into action – he shifted slightly then, the tip of his index finger joining Tony’s tongue in deep exploration.

Slowly, like he was trying to remember every ripple and crevice, Tony ran his finger around Peter’s rim, his tongue following in swift pursuit. He did that a couple of times, feeling with a certain kind of awe, as Peter loosen under his ministrations. Little by little, the tip of his finger slipped inside, Tony only stopping when the webbing of his finger hindered his movement.

Intimacy with Peter, despite how many times they came together in that very way, always felt like a brand-new experience. In his rapture, Peter would make a new noise, or tighten in a spot that Tony couldn’t remember being affected by. It shouldn’t have surprised him then, when Peter pressed back into the sensation, the greedy muscle of his ass pulling Tony in further – anatomical limitation be damned. Groaning, Tony finally shifted his face away, his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen consumption – when he was focused on the delicacy that was Peter’s ass, oxygen was the furthest from his mind.

The shift in position gave Tony a little more leverage. Within a few thrusts, Tony found Peter’s prostate, the tip of his finger running teasingly over the spot before withdrawing in hopes of repeating the process all over again. He moved into the teasing rhythm, the flutter of Peter’s hole a few minutes later the only thing reminding him to add another.

Little by little, Tony felt Peter relax around him – his cock was thick and full again, the length hard and dragging against the sheet below them. Each thrust forward or spread of his fingers to the side drew a loud huff from one of them, both men making enough noise to make it hard to decipher where one sound ended and the other began.

Three fingers deep and both reaching incoherency, Peter seemed to be just cognizant enough to push them towards the next step – his hand reached back, gripping on to Tony’s forearm. “That’s enough – I need you in me. I can’t wait, anymore.”

Letting a groan fall from his throat, Tony nodded – the capacity to form words leaving him in an instant. He forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths, his entire body was on fire and every minute shift felt like a sharp tilt to the universe – Tony already so far off his own axis.

Tony sat up on his heels after pulling his fingers from Peter’s heat, his hands shaking slightly as he opened the lube again. He poured the cool slick directly on his cock – the sudden change in stimulus calming him down, bringing him back to Earth’s surface where he could actually focus on finally sliding home.

His hand wrapped around himself, Tony gripping his cock as lightly as he could while spreading the lube around, each touch like a cattle prod to the heat so close to overwhelming him.

“How do you want me?” Tony thought to ask, his hand falling by his side to stop himself from stroking the throbbing length.

Without answering, Peter turned until he was sitting, his hands wrapping around Tony’s chest. In a quick move, Tony was on his back, the wetness of pre-cum and lube collected on the sheets rubbing against his bare skin. The feeling of it made his skin pebble, the rush of arousal getting to be too much.

Peter grinned down at him – his muscled legs bracketed Tony’s hips, a steady hand reaching behind himself to grip Tony tightly. Strong fingers wrapped around his cock, the electric pulse of Peter touching him magnifying the effect of sweet contact to his neglected sex. Another low moan sounded from his chest, the sight of Peter over him and the touch of his husband’s skin driving him up the fucking wall.

“Pete, please – “ Tony started to moan just seconds before Peter gripped him tightly.

Shifting, Peter moved until Tony was lined up perfectly, the loosened heat of Peter’s rim teasing him with little twitches and enticing heat. One small move and Tony would be buried in delicious tightness, Peter’s warm walls welcoming him home like a solider home from battle.

He couldn’t recall who finally made the shift, the initial connection too good to really give two shits about rational thought – all Tony could think about in that moment was the swift slide of his cock into Peter’s depth; the heat and affectionate feeling all consuming. He shouted Peter’s name as they fit together – each inch inside like another step to the most gratuitous pleasure. Gripping Peter’s hips tightly, Tony slammed his eyes shut – his stomach clenching.

“Fuck – don’t move. I-I – I need a minute.” Tony forced a harsh breath from his lungs, the grip of his fingers tightening with every ounce of fight needed to keep from falling over the edge.

Tony tried to keep his breathing level, the heat in his belly cooling down as his heart slowed – though he wasn’t going to last long, he felt in control enough to actually enjoy whatever happened next.

The soft brush of fingers along the length of his face had Tony finally looking up, hazel meeting brown in a soft glance. “You’re beautiful like this. Fighting for control – steps away from your most vulnerable.” Peter started to roll his hips as he spoke, the soft caresses to Tony’s cheek a gorgeous juxtaposition to the delectable grind. “I can’t wait to watch you come undone, Tony. Hear you shout my name and fall apart because of me.”

Tony couldn’t help the slur of fucks dropping from his mouth, Peter in complete control of his pleasure. Wanting to thrust up didn’t matter, not when Peter moved his hips the way he was – each roll and lift calculated – the timing and pressure instigated to tease every ounce of pleasure from Tony that he could.

One particular slam down must’ve felt good – Peter moaned loudly, then doubled his efforts. The slap of skin on skin overtook the entire room; each thrust heard, felt, seen, and remembered – the entire sensory experience latching on to the little shards of control Tony was death-gripping, the small chips turning quickly into large cracks ready to break apart at any minute.

Unable to stop himself any longer, Tony gripped Peter’s hips tighter, his own lifting in time with Peter’s rolling thrusts. Each press up caught Peter’s prostate on the upstroke, Tony completely overwhelmed by the tight squeeze around him as he pulled out, only to wind-up and press back inside impatiently. It was too much – both Peter and Tony babbling mindlessly, the pace now random, completely out of stride to the rhythmic fucking taking place just moments before.

“Cum – please, Pete. I’m so close and want to feel you lose it around me.” Tony was practically begging, his skin gleaming with sweat, the muscles just under the surface burning, exertion and overstimulation a tantalizing pleasure-pain that felt SO good.

The jump over the edge never ceased to be anything short of amazing. Tony felt Peter clamp down around him, his cock pulsing between them untouched – shot after shot of warm, pearly cum landing on Tony’s chest, each pulse like a spot of lightning caressing his skin. The squeeze was too much, all of the stimulus coming together in a glorious culmination of orgasm, and Peter, and heat – a glorious cocktail of little deaths.

When Tony finally came back to, Peter was slumped over on his chest, the evidence of his husband’s orgasm now smeared over Peter’s abs and the hairy expanse of Tony’s belly. The feeling of being marked made the satisfied thrum of happiness in the back of his mind pulse a little harder – his heart beating in time with the contentment coursing through him.

Soft lips pressed against his after a while, Peter’s fingers gripping his cheeks lightly.

“That was amazing.” Peter’s voice was gruff, his throat scratchy from moaning and shouting out his pleasure.

Tony turned his head, leaning his forehead against Peter’s cheek. His own fingers made soft paths up and then back down his husband’s back, the sweaty skin cooling quickly in the aftermath. Soon, they’d need to shift and clean up – the many memories of waking up glued together enough of a reminder that ignoring their mess wasn’t really an option. Until then, he’d soak up the closeness, Peter’s post-sex clinginess one of Tony’s favorite parts of the process.

“You’re amazing,” Tony finally mumbled, the capacity to form sentences and understandable words finally coming back to him. “And that suit, Pete – I’ll have that first look of you in it stuck in my mind for the rest of my days.”

Peter chuckled against his neck, the two of them now separated, Tony lying flat on the bed with his warm bundle of a husband tucked tightly against his side. The bask of afterglow enveloped them both – their jumble of limbs a beautiful thing.

“It had the desired effect, then,” Peter said, his lips moving against their spot on Tony’s neck. “I’m thinking about adopting the look – something new, you know?”

Turning his head, Tony pressed a kiss to Peter’s hair, a soft smile on his face. “I guess I better get used to getting nothing done, then.” He thought about all the distraction coming his way – all the clothes ripping sex they would have. Grin growing, Tony settled further into the mattress, sleepy and content with the newest change of events.