#***we do not speak here of the failed projects

[fledgedragonfox]

Secondary Colors & Tertiary Souls

Two lovers have reincarnated throughout history, destined to find each other and fall in love all over again. There’s also this third guy that reincarnates alongside them… we don’t really know what he does.

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I've honestly lost track of how many times I've been here. Watching from the outside as they found each other again. Sometimes they remember, sometimes they don't. But they always find each other. And sometimes they find me. But never in a way that matters. I came close once. Violet came back as a beautiful young woman and I happened to be a strapping young man from a noble family.

This was way back when dragons were still trouncing around the countryside. I was her betrothed, and I was so happy. But then she found Forest, as one of the most gorgeous dragons I'd ever seen. To be fair every other gorgeous dragon was either Violet or Forest in another life, but still. He was breathtaking. He stole her away, and they lived happily ever after. 

I don't like to think about how bad things were after they left. I'd like to think that if I came that close to them again I'd handle things better. No elderberry wine and cliff edges for me, thank you very much.

But, well…

It's hard to keep going like this.

There’s a legend about us you know? Two souls, born into the world over and over again. They always find each other. And every time, their love burns through the barriers of forgotten times, and they embrace. Every time, they come back and without fail, a third appears. No one quite knows why, but the third soul is always present. Either in passing, or as a foe, or even a friend. Some say that when the three meet, you can sense it happen. But always it is the lovers, and their shadow. 

They were an orcish warrior and an adorable scholar. I was a merchant passing through their village.

They were a pair of rebellious halflings. I was an elf who barely had a chance to speak to them before the war.

They were a lake spirit and a knight. While I was an ogre he'd been tricked into slaying.

They were a priest and a fair maiden. I was a dangerous lich, despite only using my powers to heal.

They were a bookseller and a musclehead. I was just a regular at the coffee shop they frequented. That time we became pretty good friends. 

They were starcrossed lovers, an astronaut and an alien. And I worked on mission control millions of miles away.

I get to see them come together again and again and again. But I never get a chance. Sometimes we see each other in the interim. The place between life and death. Sometimes they remember me from the previous life, those are the best moments of my existence. We talk, reminisce, apologize, and promise to remember next time. But they rarely ever do. And even if they do, they almost never remember me.

Right now, I'm a bartender. Serving drinks to assholes all night long. Night after night. Last time the higher ups apologized again for the trouble with my memories. They promised that this time things would be different. This time, when I die again, I won't have to come back. My paradise has been waiting for almost a thousand years, and will still be there when I'm ready. I might be ready to just rest, and let them keep up this asinine cycle they have going. 

That’s when I see them. Violet is a tall man wearing a black turtleneck. He looks so kind, like he always does. Forest is a large man, with a thick beard and a wide smile. They are perfect. Just like always. Even when Violet’s sword was cutting through me, or when Forest was soaring away with Violet in his claws. They were smiling at each other, their hands clasped in each others’ as they danced to the pulsing music. They had matching rings on, married once again. 

They glance in my direction and slow in their dance. I fumble, dropping the tumbler in my hands all over the bar. Sticky booze and ice scatter across the surface and soak my apron. I swear quietly, trying desperately to mop up the mess before it could drip onto any customers. I may be set in the afterlife, but here I need this damned job. I jump when paper towels gently move my frantic hands out of the way. My breath catches in my throat. 

They were here. Frantically setting up a paper towel barricade with the help of the security nearby. My hands are shaking. I’m smaller in this life. Lanky, and awkward, and too many stuttered out excuses. I hadn’t really been taking care of myself this time around, if I’m being honest. Forest takes my hands, trying to stop their shaking. My eyes snap to his and I feel it. Oh this one was going to hurt. These ones always did. He remembered me, or at least something about me. I was a homeless man last time. I lashed out in frustration when I saw them walking down the street. They later visited me sometimes after I apologized. They brought me sandwiches sometimes. Then the cycle started again.

“It’s you.” He said. His voice isn’t angry or sad. It’s a soft voice full of awe. I will fully admit that I am beyond confused. We must have been standing here a while because Violet finishes cleaning and looks at us. I expect him to lash out or question his husband, whatever his name is this time. But he doesn’t. He looks at me, and starts to tear up. He remembers too. This is going to really suck. Last time I was so tired and sick. This time I’m a pathetic lanky loser. It’s been a few minutes, both of their hands are clasping mine. I can’t look at them. I keep my gaze to the floor. This will be the last time. I promise myself that, at the end of this one I am staying in the after. 

“Pumpkin.” The name, the name I’ve only ever used sparingly in the after. They said my name. I can feel myself crying as I look at them. Their gazes are full of sorrow, regret, awe, and something that they had only ever had for each other. Forest guides me around the bar, the pair nearly jumping over the counter. The other patrons and bartenders give us strange, knowing, looks. Then they hug me. Well, envelope me more like. They are both bigger than me. They wrap themselves around my soggy boozy body. 

“We’re so so sorry.” Violet mutters into my hair. Forest it patting my front down with paper towels, muttering apologies and explanations that I barely hear. It takes me a few minutes to catch up. But I can still feel it. I feel a shift in myself. Like something slotting into place. 

“You remember…” My voice is a whisper, and I begin to sob when they nod and pull me in between them. They remember. Maybe they’ll want to stay with me in paradise. Maybe this life won’t be quite so bad. They’re running through names I’ve had in the past, some that even I barely recall. When they kiss me, one after the other, it feels like all of the pain is being seared away. 

I’m not a shadow anymore.

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OK! I'm probably gonna make more of these at some point but here we go! A writing prompt for chrimmas!

If you're interested, I have a patreon and unfortunately a gofundme available if you want to support me.

All of the details for the gofundme can be found on the gofundme page, I promise.

Pareon: https://patreon.com/A_M_W_Harris?utm_medium=unknown&utm_source=join_link&utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator&utm_content=copyLink Gofundme: https://gofund.me/d271f0c4

Two lovers have reincarnated throughout history, destined to find each other and fall in love all over again. There’s also this third guy that reincarnates alongside them… we don’t really know what he does.

[prolix-yuy]

Ah, but it's cold outside

Pairing: Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Summary: If you could throw Pero Tovar out of your bed and breakfast you would, but something more than your constant bickering keeps him darkening your door.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, fingering, PiV sex, consenting unprotected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), cumming inside, allusions to oral sex (f receiving), Pero Tovar is Uncircumcised, pain kink, exhibitionism, slight degradation kink, enemies to lovers as self-actualization? We love to see it.

Notes: Happy Holidays @221bshrlocked! I am your not-so-Secret Santa for @pedrostories Secret Santa event! I love love LOVED your prompts and had to give you as many as I could possibly jam into one fic. Plus it's been a while since I've written Pero and I need that grumpy man to get his ass handed to him every now and then. I hope you enjoy!

With the wind howling outside and the lights flickering dangerously, the last person you want to see on your front steps is Pero Tovar. But you barely have time to register the dark-haired pain in your ass before he’s pushing past you and into the warm haven of your bed and breakfast.

“I wasn’t expecting you for another week,” you call over your shoulder, closing the door against the freezing air. Even when the latch clicks the force of the gusts still rattles the door. 

“I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome,” he huffs, swatting snow off his wool jacket to puddle on the floor. Rolling your eyes, you stalk into the kitchen for towels. 

“It’s late, what do you want?” you call from the other room, unable to stop yourself from twisting your mouth into a pretty fair imitation of Pero’s scowl. You’d just turned off all the lights, only the twinkling glows of Christmas decorations still lighting the main floor. 

“The road’s snowed out, I can’t see shit. I debated on whether it would be easier on my nerves to keep going or stop here.” He waves at your exasperated face when he catches the towel you toss. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The telltale frustration rises in your throat, and you swallow it down. “I don’t have any rooms, everyone’s hiding out from the storm.” Busying yourself with the late-night tasks you know by heart, Pero thumps along behind you.

“Believe me, I would rather be in my own bed than your ‘charming’ ones, but I am out of options. Anything. A couch. It’s too cold to sleep in the truck.”

There it is again, that seething annoyance climbing up your spine. You take in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before gesturing at the common room.

“The couch is the best I can do.”

Before you’re done speaking he’s striding in, shucking off his jacket to drape over a chair before kneeling by the dying fire. You’re about to scold him for kicking it back to life but if the power does fail the heat will be welcome. 

“I have to finish closing up, yell if you need something,” you add, his dismissive wave meeting your mocking wave back. The scrunch in your shoulders eases partway through the mess of dishes you’re washing, thankful that the silence of late nights is still yours even with the eerie howls and creaks of the storm surrounding you.

Yours and Pero’s relationship was barely that, if anyone asked. When he first came to town you were elated that a carpenter-handyman type was finally local. You had so many projects half-finished or begging to start in your bed and breakfast, a cozy Tudor-style house you bought at the peak of another career crisis. Thankfully this choice was a revelation, even with the tremendous undertaking. The pipes were of indeterminate age and prone to cracks, the noise of the radiators a heart-pounding alarm clock. The unpleasant odors of past smokers and bad cooks hung heavy everywhere you turned, but paint and YouTube videos and determination brought it up to a standard you were proud of. However, you didn’t want to know what electrocution feels like, or be chummy with the scent of carbon monoxide, so after a proper number of niceties and crossed paths you invited Pero over. 

The first day he darkened your door, you felt something wildly different than his entrance this evening. He was dark haired, roguish in an unfamiliar way. Simply dressed in jeans and a canvas jacket over a black t-shirt, his frame tugged against mouthwatering places you tried not to stare at. He was polite, wiping his feet at the door and setting his toolbox down gently. His accented voice was deep, sonorous, goddamn sexy. You had to focus on showing him the finicky electrical box and the concerning gas hookup in the kitchen to stop your mind from wandering to steamy romance novel plots. 

Then he started speaking, and it all went to hell. 

“You should take down the curtains too,” he hummed, the cadence almost masking the disdain before your brain snapped to attention.

“The…curtains? Are they a fire hazard?”

“No, they are ugly.”

Heat flooded your face, your teeth clacking together as you whipped to look at Pero. His face is the picture of disgust, and when he meets your eyes there isn’t a hint of embarrassment in them. “Did they come with the place?”

“No, they fit the aesthetic.”

“This is an aesthetic?”

You raised your eyebrows, hands on your hips but he didn’t back down one bit. He kept talking.

“I thought the furniture was from the previous owner. Cheaper, you know. You like it?” He looks around as if someone would back him up, but you just fold your arms.

“People don’t come to a bed and breakfast because it’s modern, they come because it’s quaint and charming and…”

“...cheaper than the Marriott…”

“And how would you do it then? Design the space for me, oh wise one.”

“Not how my grandmother would do it.”

Pero did not get your business that day.

Embarrassingly enough, he did get it three weeks later when your gas line started leaking. He critiqued how many mouse droppings were behind the stove and recommended an exterminator. You almost threw him out.

So if anyone asks, you and Pero do not have a relationship. You have a business agreement, at best. A begrudging one. He comes when you call - not quickly, of course, and it feels like a personal slight even when he insists he has many clients - and you pay him after haggling over the cost of the pipe or how long he actually worked for (he has a tendency to charge for his hour-long lunch breaks). He makes his snide little comments and you spit a retort back, and sometimes you swear you catch him smirking to himself after you deliver something especially sharp. 

As you dry your hands, you dwell maybe a few minutes too long on this. You’d never admit it in earshot of his big head, but there’s something incredibly freeing about talking to Pero. Sure, he criticizes and complains about anything he comes within five feet of, but he’s never cruel to you. He never speaks down to you, or makes you feel inferior because you don’t know something. Most of the time he explains what he’s doing so you can do it yourself, with only a few jabs thrown in for flavor. No contractor has ever treated you as capable before. Most try to talk over your or around the topic, and you have to smile and gently redirect them to understand that yes, you are aware of what an impact driver is and no, you think drywall screws would be overkill to reattach that molding. You’d rather snark at Pero all day then have one of those pillow-scream-worthy conversations again.

Shaking off the retrospection, you take a plate of leftover roast chicken and potatoes into the common room. Pero, as you expected, has stoked the fire into an almost concerning blaze but the warmth is welcome. He’s settling back into the well-worn couch and scrolling on his phone as you plop the plate on his lap. Your knuckles graze the top of his thigh when you withdraw, a nervous tingle dancing through your stomach.

What the hell was that about? It’s Pero, for fuck’s sake.

“Eat,” you order, rounding the couch to drop into the open space. If there’s one order Pero will never argue about it’s to eat, which he does with gusto and a nod in your direction. The crackle of the fire covers the ravenous chewing - even barely hungry he eats like a man starved - as you let your body relax into the cushions. All the guests are tucked away, breakfast is prepped and ready, and the silence is welcome. Unfortunately, it’s short-lived.

“I did not think you would be fully booked. I wouldn’t have bothered stopping by.”

It’s too late and you’re too tired to deal with this bullshit right now. You press the heels of your hands to your eyes.

“And why would you think that Pero? Because somehow I could never run a business this well?”

“That’s not…”

“Or am I not paying you enough? Are we about to have a heart to heart over hourly rates?”

“I am not…”

“Then fucking out with it then! If you hate being here, being around me so much, then just tell me why so I can stop trying to give a shit about it.”

The silence that follows pulls your hands from your eyes, and where you thought Pero would be glaring at you he’s…confused. Which is…also confusing.

“I thought this was fun,” he says, voice softening to a rumble that loses its edges in the fire. “The, you know, the back and forth.” He studies his hands, blunt thumbnail dragging along a knuckle. “Most people defer to me because I’m…” Gesturing at himself, what could be a brag instead is dripping with annoyance. “The men pretend to be in league with me, and the women laugh at everything I say. It’s so…boring.”

You’re frozen in place, brows knit as you let him speak, a tingle rising up the back of your neck and flooding your fingertips.

“Any bullshit that entertains me, I can do with them. But not with you.” He can’t meet your eyes, instead staring into the fire that paints the planes of his face in luscious amber. “You never let me get away with shit. I like that. I thought you liked that too. You always seemed to get…brighter when we were…” His hands come up and make little quibbling mouths, finally looking at you. 

Have you ever seen his gaze so bare before?

“I’m sorry, I misunderstood.”

Inside your body, a mounting wave of understanding and excitement fills your limbs. No one has ever praised your fire, your brightness, only wanting to tamp it down into something manageable and palatable. Now before you is a man who not only revels in it, but encourages it? You’ve never felt this thrum of excitement before, like holding a tuning fork against your sternum. 

“You did,” you say, the strength of your voice surprising. Rising to stand, Pero’s chin tilts, a supplicant before you. “Because if you had given me even an inkling of an idea that this was foreplay, I wouldn’t have held back.”

Much like your own revelation, you can see your words change Pero. His brow smooths before arching in tandem with his growing smirk. Hands coming down to grasp the seat cushion, his veins bulge against the creak of upholstery. He tilts his chin to you with shrinking obedience. 

“Then I am very interested in seeing you at your worst.” 

The words drive you to clench. This is dangerous new territory, but nothing could hold you back from striding headfirst into it. Two swaying steps place you in front of Pero, his knees widening to stand between. The new angle makes him lean back, exposing the tantalizing length of his neck dotted with delicate freckles. 

“I don’t know, Pero, you may not deserve that honor.” A giggle rises in your throat, letting yourself enjoy your new-found freedom. Saying exactly what’s on your mind without the nagging fear of being too much. By Pero’s expression, he’s enjoying it too. You wind up another retort, but his next words steal your breath. 

“Are you wet right now?” he says, tongue slipping out to lick at his lower lip. The crude statement slams heat into your face, and suddenly your hand is in the air and headed for Pero’s stubbly cheek. 

“Ah!” he scolds, catching your wrist firmly before you make contact. Your brain barely has time to register you were going to smack him! when he yanks you closer, catching yourself on the back of the couch.

“I knew you were sharp in many more ways,” he gloats, and you can’t decide if you want to try wiping that smirk off his face with your palm or your mouth. “I’ll ask again - are you wet right now?”

This is the precipice of desire and level thinking, your toes on the edge. Strong voices shout that this is crazy, foolish, ill-advised. You feel too good to pay them mind.

“Why don’t you find out?”

Hunger roars in Pero’s eyes but his movements are slow, steady as he helps you straighten to standing. The fire licks at your back, but his hands finding the waist of your jeans are scorching. Eyes flick up to you as he pops the button loose, thick fingers grasping the small zip to open it tooth by tooth. The challenge is to let him take his time, and you’re up for it. By the generous tenting in his pants he’s affected too. 

“What will I find if I take these off? Pretty little panties? Something lace? Nothing at all?” he husks, toying with the plaquet as he purposefully doesn’t look. 

“I think my previous answer still stands,” you retort, and your boldness earns you a rakish smile while Pero rolls your jeans down. The darkness of night shrouds your form, but anyone stumbling in could find you like this. Something tells you Pero likes it better that way.

“Perfect,” he whispers, and his hot breath ghosting over your mound raises goosebumps. 

“At this rate it’ll be morning before…” you tease, lips forming around a smile, but that morphs into a choked exhale when Pero deftly pulls aside your panties and slides his thumb over your clit. Your hands come to his shoulders, digging in as he traces an experimental circle. 

“I knew you were dripping,” Pero purrs, and words fail as two fingers slide through your folds to press at your entrance. “I want to fuck you on my fingers, is that amenable to the lady?” 

Staccato laughter punctuates your “yes” before he presses in, those hands you’d marveled at fitting into the hot clutch of your cunt just shy of painful. Then he curls them and you can’t stop the high-pitched whine that whistles out. 

“Just needed something to scratch that itch, hm? Needed a little finger fucking to relax?” he says, and even with your body responding beautifully to his slick rhythm you can’t let that go. One hand twists into his hair, wrapping locks around your fingers before squeezing. 

Like an electric shock Pero’s body locks up, mouth falling open and his hips undulating more than you expected. You tut at him, superiority flooding your brain even as your pussy drenches his hand.

“Tattling on yourself, Pero. Let your mouth run just a little and I’ll learn all your secrets.” His fingers redouble their efforts, thumb sliding over your clit as he coaxes your orgasm to the surface, but now his head is in your hands, nails digging into his scalp as he fights against succumbing to the pricks of pain.

“Devil woman,” he hisses with no fire. “Tell me what you want - fuck, you’re so fucking wet - tell me what you want to make you cum.”

Your mind races with possibilities - your slick smeared on Pero’s beard, his hands wrapped around your headboard, what his lips would feel like - but the mounting need in your chest is to be filled. 

“I want to fuck you. Right here.”

Pero curses colorfully, fumbling at his belt. You ease his hand from your pussy, the ache of the loss a yawning chasm but he needs both to yank off his jeans and boxers. Pulling your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra, you’re nude and silhouetted by the dying fire. Pero is struggling with his shirt when he glances up at you, stunned into stillness. 

“Mierda,” he whispers. It’s said like a prayer, and at this moment you know why worship is addictive. Pero’s reverent gaze is a stronger aphrodisiac than any oyster could hope to be. He comes back to himself enough to yank the shirt over his head, revealing dark chest hair leading down to a healthy mess of curls surrounding his flushing cock. He fists it, sliding the foreskin down to reveal the deep purpling head slick with precum. Cocking your hip, you fake a loud sigh.

“Fine, I guess you have a big enough dick to act the way you do,” you observe, diffusing the weighty moment enough for Pero to scoff and smile. It’s new on his face, his scowl so everpresent, that you bask in it briefly. 

“Come sit on my lap,” he implores, reaching out to take your hand. After all the sparring, the gentleness puts you off-kilter, unused to being allowed both. 

“What are you, Santa?” you ask, straddling him and settling on his thighs as he rolls his eyes.

“Are you trying to make me lose this? Is it a little too intimidating for all your big talk?” Pero teases, stroking his definitely still very hard cock before tapping the head against your mound. 

“Don’t worry, I know how to get it back if you do,” you quip, dragging your fingernails lightly down his chest before he can retort. He reacts exactly how you’d hoped, muscles clenching and a bead of precum dribbling from his tip. “Do you like it when I make it hurt just a little bit?”

“Yes,” he groans, unashamed, unselfconscious, and your cunt throbs. “You can make it hurt more,” he says, eyes widening suddenly as you see him realize he said that out loud. Sliding closer to hover over his proud cock, you take another sweat-damp handful of hair and squeeze. His groans are growing in volume but you can’t bring yourself to care. You can blame it on the storm in the morning. 

“I’ll let you have anything you want if you’re a good boy for me.”

The whine he’s clearly embarrassed to have let out is cut off by a sudden inhale.

“Wait,” he gasps, hands digging into your hips to hold you above his cock. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on birth control,” you interject, “and I haven’t slept with anyone in…like, eight months.”

Pero’s hands knead into your flesh, eyes searching your face.

“I’ll pull out.”

You don’t even think about it.

“Don’t you dare.”

If what you saw was hunger before, what’s in Pero’s expression now is ravenous. His lips curl back into a snarl, eyes deep and dark. Suddenly his fingers are inside you, scissoring you open roughly as you pant into his ear. 

“Tell me to slow down,” he growls, but you shake your head. “Tell me…when I need to.”

“I need you, Pero, please, now.”

No longer holding you still, Pero’s hands guide you down onto his cock. The moment his head breaches a whole body shiver races through.

“Are you…”

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

He fills you until he’s in your guts, your lungs, surrounding you with his arms and his thighs below. The splay of his hands on your back makes you dizzy, head buzzy with hormones and his musk and every place he’s touching you in a symphony of pleasure. Faintly you realize he’s saying something, lips moving against your shoulder.

“Pero?”

“Can I kiss you?”

A few drops of clarity sharpen the mush in your brain.

“You’re inside of me and we forgot to kiss.”

Pero’s chest hitches once, then again, then the both of you are moving out of sync as hiccupy laughter overtakes you. He pants when you clench around him, trying to catch his breath until you both come back to your senses. 

“I was enjoying what you were saying too much,” he admits, leaning back against the couch. His face is shadowed but you catch the glint of his eyes, the wetness of his plush lips. How had you resisted them this long?

Pero beats you to initiate, pulling you down to press a kiss to your lips. It’s soft and chaste, his hands cupping your head as you part. But you beat him to return the kiss, pressing him into the couch with a deeper kiss, barely waiting for him to react before urging his lips open. He hums greedily into your mouth, letting you explore with your tongue before he fills you with his. It’s not long before his mouth is frantic, gripping your hips as he makes an experimental thrust into your cunt that breaks your lips apart.

“Pero, fuck,” you gasp, nails digging into his back as he thrusts up deep and smooth. You meet his pace, rolling your hips to grind your clit against him. Fighting for dominance, you finally push him back and ride him in earnest, lifting up over and over again to slam his cock into your cunt. He’s mesmerized by how your tits bounce, taking one in his palm to knead to tease your nipple as your orgasm creeps up your spine. 

“Fuck, Pero, you feel so good,” you moan, slowing to grind down, the friction of his pubic hair on your clit giving you the edge to pull your climax close. 

“You feel amazing on my cock. Are you close?”

“Yes,” you pant, using every inch of Pero to find that moment of bliss. “Fuck, yes Pero, I want to cum on you. Want to feel you inside.” It’s right there, you’re at the brink of tipping over.

“Fuck, yes, oh fuck, say my name like that. Say it when you’re cumming.”

Your nerves sing and your body pulses to the beat of Pero, Pero, Pero rasping from your lips. He’s growling something you wish you could understand but the blood is pumping too loudly in your ears. The only thing you register is the couch against your back as Pero flips you. He’s pressed long against your body, hips snapping into your cunt even as you’re so tight around him. 

“...beautiful, you’re so beautiful, can’t stop…” you faintly hear as the sensations of Pero’s hands roaming your body, his humid mouth at your neck, and the wet slap of his cock bring you back to your body. His thrusts are becoming erratic, right on the cusp of his own orgasm, when you dig your nails into his back and rake them down his spine. 

Pero’s orgasmic bellow is muffled in your neck as the throb of his cock empties inside you. You offer little scratches up and down his arms and shoulders as he comes down, hips pressing in deeper as he lets out satisfied groans. Finally he slumps, head resting on your chest as he catches his breath. 

The silence is back, the dimming fire combating the dark. This was by far the best fuck you’d had in ages, and in no small part due to the freedom to just be. But when the sun rises - hell, when the post-orgasmic haze lifts - what will this even look like?

Pero sighs and lifts up on his hands, easing his cock out before softly swearing and grabbing his shirt to wipe away the cum dripping out of you. 

“I might recommend getting this couch cleaned,” he muses, sitting up on his knees to look down at your loose-limbed body with a lopsided grin. 

“I don’t think we’re the first ones to do that on this particular piece of furniture,” you joke, enjoying the wrinkle of disgust on Pero’s face. 

“Then I definitely recommend a shower. And request a bedsheet.”

The statement is unassuming in a way that you needed. Yes, this is new and strange, but you’ve always embraced both. 

“You know, there is still one bed left in this bed and breakfast.”

Pero’s head perks up.

“The only problem is that it’s mine.”

A roguish smile dimples Pero’s cheek as he hovers over you.

“And what must I do to share it with you?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

END

"I ought to say, "No, no, no sir" Mind if I move in closer? At least I'm gonna say that I tried What's the sense in hurting my pride? I really can't stay Baby, don't hold out Baby, it's cold outside."

[distractedvoid]

remember those sonamy for sonic 4 ideas? here they are i couldnt wait

So, now that Amy is definitely confirmed, based on the after credits scene in Sonic 3, I have some silly thoughts about how Sonic and Amy's relationship could unfold in Sonic 4.

So, first, I think their general dynamic would definitely change. In pretty much every other form of Sonic media, while it has changed a bit recently, Amy is shown as constantly chasing after Sonic despite him avoiding most of her advances anyway.

Now, movie Sonic is definitely not as mature as the Sonics in other medias. A huge part of his continuous character arc is that he's still a kid, a kid that doesn't really know what he's doing.

And here, we have Amy, which, from the very small amount of her character that we've seen, at least seems like less of a damsel in distress. (It reminds me of how they changed Princess Peach's character in the Mario Movie.) In contrast to the story of Sonic CD, we see Amy saving Sonic from the many copies of Metal Sonic.

Now how exactly does this make their dynamic different? Well, if you take an immature Sonic, and put him in the same room as an Amy that needs less saving than the usual, the firsthand difference is undeniable. Thus why I think their dynamic would be reversed in a way, at least, that's what I want to happen.

I have a feeling Sonic would be "chasing" after Amy, but more so in the way that he's constantly trying to impress her. He'd probably get into some unsavory situations due to his most likely failed attempts at this, prompting Amy to have to make sure he doesn't keep doing stupid things.

Amy herself wouldn't understand why Sonic kept getting himself into trouble like that, much less that he did it for her, until she sought out some third-party information.

Speaking of (I never really mentioned anything related but just go with it), I haven't talked much about Amy's own feelings yet.

So we know about a possible tiny fraction of her character, and while that's not a lot to go off of, I don't see any harm in forming early ideas based off it.

When Amy, presumably, met Sonic by saving him from the Metal Sonic copies, I don't think she would really think too much of him at first. As soon as he actually started talking, though, she'd find interest- I wouldn't wanna take away the part of her that probably falls in love way too easily.

Unlike the usual Amy we're probably all used to, she wouldn't show her feelings that much. She'd have the occasional giggle at Sonic's attempts at impressing her, even if she didn't know that was why he did it. For all she knows, that's just what he's usually like! Until she inquires with Tails- she learns that she's somewhat special to the blue blur.

I might just be projecting, with the weird way my own feelings work, but I think Amy's little crush on Sonic would skyrocket at that information. Sonic, the guy she only really had a small crush on, was trying that hard to win her over? Admittedly, that was pretty cute in her eyes.

After that Amy would definitely be more forward with Sonic, causing the latter to be a little confused and wonder if a certain two-tailed fox said anything...Guess you can't even trust your best friend with secret crushes anymore, sigh.

If they ended up together, if we were to ever get so lucky, I don't think either would really change how they act around each other, other than holding hands occasionally and maybe a few kisses here and there. Sonic is still adventure focused, though how much he likes Amy is sometimes painfully obvious. He'd gain a little confidence boost if they became official, but overall, if they went on any dates, they'd be dates to kick Eggman's ass for the thousandth time.

That's all I have for now, I'm gonna let the brain worms rest LOL. Thanks to anyone who actually went and read my yapping session

[hxhhasmysoul]

kenjaku never did anything wrong. they are a feminist icon, have you seen a single working mother like them? so dedicated to their work* and their hobbies** and their favourite child*** . before kenny became the single mother of the millenium they were the best wife, each and every time them and jin got together and tried to build a little vessel****. and brief as it were, mother was the best boyfriend to their soulmate takaba.

[grinchdelia]

1. Anti-civ does not mean being against medicine. Every culture on the planet practices medicine, and this has been the case for as long as culture has existed. It's true that something like cancer is hard to treat without recent technology, but it's also true that we get a lot more cancer, autoimmune disorders, metabolic issues, etc now. The system that is capable of treating these problems is the same system that causes most of them in the first place.

2. The science thing is more complicated but let's get into what science even is. You can talk about science in the epistemological sense or in the institutional sense. This is definitely something a lot of anti-civ folks would not agree with me on, I'm not going to defend anyone else's opinion here. Speaking personally, my feelings on the scientific method of learning and knowing are messy but I'm not going to toss out empiricism completely. It's good to question beliefs.

Scientific institutions.... are primarily tools of the state. Certainly not all scientists or even the majority spend their time on the kinds of projects I'm talking about. But the reason science as a whole is valued is because it is used to make effective weapons and tools of control. Zooming out a little bit, I don't dislike empiricism itself, but I'm skeptical of the goal of amassing knowledge. This knowledge is part of the wealth of corporate and governmental powers and is far less useful to us than it is to them. Knowledge should be embedded within a living culture, not hoarded to be available as a means.

3. Curious to hear about the good way of making computers? My position is that even if human laborers were happy to work in mines for some reason, the mines would still be doing violence to the land. But for the sake of argument let's say there's a way to do the mining that causes minimal harm to the land. How much work do you think it would take to make one computer ethically? Do you think it would be realistic for very many people to have access to these fantastically complex tools, built in a cleanroom with machines built by machines built by machines built by machines? And again, how much space on our shared earth does this whole apparatus take up?

To be fair, I'd love to not have a phone, so in a better world where I can have a good life without one, that's at least one less that you'd need to make!

4. Which leads me to the basic hypocrisy that anti-civ folks are continually accused of. I actually don't have much of a defense to this one other than that it's difficult to live the life I want to live. I would really really really love to spend most of my time outside or in simply built shelters, never looking at a screen again. I have tried actually and I think the first issue is that it's a goal for a community, not for an individual. The community is by far the most important part and they've been systematically broken. Living alone on foraged food is still just barely possible, but it doesn't resemble the life I dream of. It's only superficially similar. The other point I want to make is that even for a community, it's damn hard to make this work in the world we live in. People are sincerely trying, and often failing, not because it's a bad way to live but because capital and civ culture will not let us. There's also some successes but the success tends to come with a lot of compromise. Still, we gotta keep trying, cause what else can we do?

5. Finally, we get to questions that I think need to be asked and don't have answers I like. How do we get there from here? Billions of people are dependent upon the system we live in functioning well. In short, you are right, there is no way for everyone to transition to non-civilized ways of living. A lot of anti-civ folks don't like to admit that. Some just live in denial and then there's the ones who actually advocate for mass death. Thankfully not that many in my experience but it's still an issue.

I certainly can't speak for anyone else and my views may not be representative of the anti-civ crowd as a whole, it's been so many years since I talked to many other anarchists so I don't know where people are at anymore and I no longer remember a lot from when I was in the scene. But let me try to elaborate a little on where I'm at personally.

I don't see a way for everyone alive now to get out of the machine and not die horribly. But as the godspeed track goes, it's also pretty clear to me that the machine is bleeding to death. It's almost certainly not going stop functioning all at once, but as the decline continues, things are going to get much worse for all of us trapped inside. Meanwhile the land and the waters have been degraded to the point where anyone who tries to escape by "living off the land" is in for a rude awakening. (This completely aside from the basic calculation that not every human would have enough space to feed themselves on our shared earth, even if our ecology was in a better condition.) Not incidentally, colonization of indigenous peoples is ongoing and anyone who remains on their ancestral land is still having to fight back attempts to force them off.

In short, we're pretty fucked. I genuinely do not understand how pro-industrial anarchists or communists think we're going to get out of this one (without mass death). In my opinion it's just as delusional as that section of anti-civ anarchists who are in denial. You can even make similar arguments that if they somehow manage to pull off a revolution, the transition is going to kill a whole lot of people because it's all quite fragile and keeping the machine running smoothly is necessary to forestall immediate catastrophe.

However, I'm actually not that bothered about a hypothetical situation where either pro-industrial ancoms or anti-civ anarchists are in that position. It just doesn't strike me as realistic enough to worry about. I cannot imagine myself ever having to make those sorts of decisions. I'm also not delusional enough to imagine that I could somehow strike at the global industrial system in a way which might bring the whole thing down and thereby cause mass death. Even if I wanted to do that, it's just larping, and I think taking that kind of thing seriously encourages people to develop unhealthy fantasies about something that will never happen. I won't theorize about how anarchists could solve these kinds of issues because it puts us in this mindset that we have to wield absolute power correctly to fix things. That's not how any of this works. The death machine has got us in this horrible position that can not possibly end well, and I can't do anything about that. Obviously don't trust anyone who has ideas about how to design the perfect world for us all to decivilize or whatever, that's completely missing the point and it's depressing how many people do think that way.

So, after all that pessimism, what do I stand for? I just want to live my life. I'd like to say that what I do doesn't have to have a purpose but that's actually not true either. I do feel like I have work to do. I think helping the people in front of me in little ways in really important, but that's not an anti-civ specific thing obviously. Maybe a more relevant thing to add is that we need to put time into the groundwork of living culture. Find ways to relate to other humans and the more than human world, because without that, there's not even a possibility of things being better. A long time ago I used to be all for "tear it down first" but I've more or less done a 180 on that. I live in the USA and right now, if the government and capitalism collapsed instantly for some unforseen reason, almost nobody would be ready to start building a better life. I'm not going to make predictions about the time scale here but I absolutely do believe that global collapse of civilization is happening, and I'm going to live with that in mind. No, it's not possible for everyone to go forage, but there are little things we can do to help heal the places we live. Maybe on the day I'm in need, there will be a fruit on the tree for me in return. The suffering of the world is truly monumental and the good I can do is so small but that makes it feel really important to start working on these things.

Hope you enjoyed the glimpse into some sort of anti-civ perspective, however different it may be from others! There are a lot more people involved in this sort of culture building work than you might think, but you won't hear from most of them since they're out doing the thing. I'm a rare case in that I know some of those people but I'm also online, at least for the moment. Might as well evangelize while I'm here.

Funny thing about that anti civ person is that like. They could just do what folks that live off the grid do, but more extreme. If you hate civilization you’re…allowed to live somewhere else. Hell since they’re so convinced in their own definition of civilization they have even more options! (Though they’ll probably be disappointed to find out first hand their definition was wrong)

I mean in a way I understand. If you truly believe that civilization is the worst thing to happen to humanity and you want the best for humanity, you will even use the tools of civilization to persuade other people to your ideas.

The thing of course is that I don't believe on that and it's so incredibly easy to point out that computers are made by, well, civilization.

I also think that to say "well go live in the woods then" is a bit rude but... honestly, if the anti-civ way of life is more rewarding, we would see more people trying to do it right? We would see people in third-world countries protesting against schools, hospitals, universities, transportation, etc. instead of wanting those, right? But instead you will find, surprisingly, that people want a better life for themselves and those who they love. And this isn't opposed to enviromental stewardship and protection, as it's often the same people who live in those places who also want enviromental protection.

It's often through organized systems, civilization, that people achieve human rights, a good life, and indeed, are able to organize how to protect nature.

It's just completely disconnected from the aspirations of most people.

[salsflore]

just got home from school ～ ate a sandwich to cheer myself up, think i’ll play genshin for a bit and nap ... pulling on shenhe’s banner solves everything

[ttsukiimi]

───〃★ WE F⍣CK OFF & ON, OFF & ON .ᐟ

〃★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ As the campus’s well known f⍣ckboy, Satoru Gojo wasn’t known to stick around for more than one night in one bed. Well, that unspoken rule just didn’t apply when the bed was yours.

〃★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ gojo x fem!reader, uni au, smut (mdni), protected s⍣x, f⍣ckboy!gojo, hair pulling, p⍣ssywhipped!gojo, mentions of alc⍣hol & bein’ drunk, dirty talk, slight dumbification.

〃★ 𝐚/𝐧 ⎯ Thank you so freaking much for 1.5K!!! 🥹

Absolutely unbearable.

If there was any way to describe the campus fuckboy, it’d be that.

He was known—infamous for his unique way of fucking women and somehow leaving them attached, yearning for him once more after just one night, while he only left unscathed with his balls empty.

Satoru Gojo was insatiable. And you hated him.

You failed to see what everyone saw in him—he was a total idiot for fucks sake! Granted, he had a pretty face and could be quite charming, and you really couldn’t say for yourself if he was that good in bed, but good things about him paled in comparison to his horrid personality. He knew how attractive he was, and used that any chance he got.

How did he manage to talk his way into and out of anything? You simply didn’t know. But you hated him.

That was…until you yourself finally had a taste of Satoru Gojo.

Drunk at a party and so utterly wasted, you’d failed to acknowledge who was hitting on you, who you got into the taxi with to drive back to who knows where. His hands all over you—so rough yet inviting, even after the alcohol in your system had gone you still found yourself pulled into a trance.

A trance that seemingly pushed you to his bed and under him. Seemingly had you moaning his name all night and for more to come.

And seemingly, now, opening the door to your apartment so he could come in. So he could come in and fuck you like he’s been doing for the past months. Well, that’s just what he thought would happen anyway.

“Satoru,” you huffed, watching as the tall freak plopped himself onto your couch, momentarily jerking his head back before he responded with a hum.

“Can you stop acting like a fool and try not to break anything for once?” You chastised, pointing to a hand of his already playing with the flowers in your prized vase—he hadn’t given you those and had no right to taint them.

The white haired man groaned, rolling his eyes and following you down the narrow hallway to your bedroom. Your steps halted at the doorway and so did his, a low snicker leaving his lips as his hands slid to your waist.

“So,” he sighed in your ear, brushing his soft lips past the skin of your neck, big hands squeezing the flesh of your ass as he snaked them down. “Y’just gonna keep on being grumpy or you gonna let me fuck?”

“Satoru,” you exasperated for what seemed like the umpteenth time, though you didn’t dare take his hands off your body, already surrendering to the feeling. “Just because we’ve been fucking doesn’t mean that I only invite you here because of that.”

You turned around to face him. “We have a project to do, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll start after I start.”

And what was Satoru’s definition of that?

It was pushing your head further down into your pillows as he absolutely ravished your cunt, simultaneously holding both your hands back with just one of his.

His thrusts were deep and calculated—to the point where it felt like he knew where every pleasurable spot inside you was. Perhaps he did.

“Dick’s got you all quiet now, hm?” he smirks, sliding his free hand up your back and to your head, pulling your hair back as he speaks. By then you were a drooling mess and as much as you’d hate to admit it—you’re practically dumb on his cock, moaning incoherent little babbles of his name and how big he feels.

Satoru grins behind you, smug because he’s got you, the most prim and proper girl on campus choking on her own saliva. It all felt so surreal, you felt surreal—your soft hips, the succulent ripple of your ass as his hips connected to it, your moans—fuck everything you did was driving him crazy. Even though it was supposed to be the other way around.

He was the one who was supposed to be ingrained in your brain—but here he was, inches deep inside your wet, reeling pussy after he swore the last time he was in your apartment would be the last.

But there’s always a reoccurring cycle with you. He just can’t stop.

“Hah—mph—slow down, S’toru!” you mewl, fat tears swelling in your waterline, your ears perking up at the rhythmic plap! plap! plap! of your sweaty bodies colliding. “If ‘m too loud my neighbors might hear,”

“Yeah? Let them hear how good I’m makin’ you feel then,” he breathes, shallow and unsteady, his toned chest moving in tandem with his inhales. The deep tremble of his voice seems to move throughout your body, vibrating through you in such a maddening way that you’re almost cumming from the feeling alone.

What was even more provoking was the way he pulsed against your gummy walls, thumping and pulsing inside you loud enough that it seemed you could hear it.

And—god was Satoru close, so close he could feel the static of his high zap though his fingers. He groaned, head thrown back in bliss as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so deliciously.

Your head was spinning from the mind-dizzying pleasure, eyes rolling back in what Satoru can only admit is the most remarkable expression he’s gotten out of anyone he’s fucked.

His hair was sticking to his forehead now, sweaty from how fast he was working to thrust into you at his abnormal pace. “Can I—“

“No.”

A defeated sigh and a pained grunt as he pulled out just as he was about to teeter off the edge of pleasure, taking himself in his hands and finishing the job. Satoru jerked himself as he watched you shake and convulse in euphoria, your body unwinding as you let your limbs go limp.

Cum seeped from your pussy, dripping down to your clit and sheets—and that sight was all he needed before his hot seed was spurting all over your back, the sensation causing a broken cry to leave your lips.

“Fuck,” Satoru mouthed, breathing hard as he gave your ass little smacks of approval. “That was—shit—so good.”

You nodded, head turning to the side as you watched him take off his cum-filled condom, and dump it in the trash. Satoru plopped back on your bed once he was done.

A smirk graced his lips and you rolled your eyes in annoyance, knowing nothing good could come out of that look.

“When do you think we could do it raw, hm?”

“When you get tested for every type of STD.”

[iluvmattsbeard]

Wet Dreamz (m.s)

master list

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: smut and swearing

preview: matt and you were partners for a project. he unexpectedly started having sinful dreams about you, suddenly craving you ever since. one thing nobody knew; he was a virgin.

“y/n, you will be partnered with Matt.” the teacher says trying to grab your attention. “y/n? are you listening?” you snap out of your thoughts and look at him. “huh?” you ask. “you’re partnered with Matt for this project.” he replies with an unamused look. you look around before you look back at him. “who’s that?” you ask.

he lets out a sigh before speaking, “Matt raise your hand.” you look around again as you catch the eyes of a brown haired boy. you weren’t mad about it. he looked decent.

you get up and walk to where he was sitting. “next time y/n, i expect you to be paying attention. this project will effect your grade drastically if you do poorly.” you hear the teacher say looking at you. all you do is nod. you were barely passing the class.

Matt’s POV

i got paired with y/n. she didn’t even know who i was. i knew of her because she would get in trouble constantly due to her lack of focus. as she came to sit next to me, we clicked right away. we both dreaded school, but who doesn’t? as much as i didn’t like school, i still paid attention, unlike her, so i had to explain the whole point of the project to her.

we exchanged numbers after class so that we could talk about when we could meet up to work on it. we only had two weeks to complete it. i knew i had to stand on top of it because i know she won’t.

a few days pass, me and y/n still working on the project together, with us having to meet at lunch. i got to know a little bit more about her. she was pretty cool to talk to. we even started texting without talking about the project itself. so when this is done, it’d be cool to hang with her.

meeting during lunch really wasn’t a good idea. there was too much distractions. so i took the opportunity to invite her over to my place after school. she agreed and i ended up driving her with me once the final bell rang.

End of Matt’s POV

you and Matt were in his room as you sat on the floor. you were reading over some information from the website the teacher recommended and you were feeling overwhelmed. “all of this is hurting my head.” you say laying back on the floor. Matt lets out a small laugh as he responds, “me too. i don’t get how this will be beneficial in the future.” you shot up looking at him, “exactly! school is so bullshit to me. they don’t even teach real world shit.” you say sighing. “i agree. but i didn’t put up with almost 12 years of school just to fail.” he says. you groan, “right. it would be wasteful. i’m pretty sure you don’t have anything to worry about. my grades are literally on the edge of failing.” “well, i could help you.” he suggests. all you do is let out a laugh, “trust me, teaching me is hard.”

“i’ve been teaching you these past days. trust me i know.” Matt responds as you both let out a laugh. “it’s hot in here.” you say taking off your hoodie, pulling down your shirt as it lifted a bit. Matt looks at you as he catches a glimpse of your cleavage. he looks away quickly, clearing his throat. where has all of that been hiding? he wonders. “well let’s continue working on this.” he says trying to move past it. all you do is nod as you lay on your stomach continuously reading.

when you weren’t paying attention, Matt would stare at you slightly. he would stare at the way your tits were pressed against the floor, thinking how perfect they were.

after a few hours, Matt takes you home. “thank you for the ride.” you say smiling, slinging your backpack on one shoulder. “yeah of course” he replies. you open the door stepping out, but as you get up, your hoodie raises slightly revealing your thong peeking out above your jeans slightly. Matt catches a glimpse turning red. you shut the door and walk away. he sits there in his car for a bit as he gulps before driving away.

Matt arrives home tidying his room before going to bed. he picks up one of his notebooks as he sees a sticky note on it reading, ‘thank you for dealing with me as a partner - Y/N’.

he smiles at the note as he puts it down on his bed side table, getting into bed. as he lays there, he couldn’t help but think about what his eyes caught from you earlier. your cleavage and your thong. he couldn’t stop thinking about it. “Matt stop that.” he whispers to himself before shutting his eyes going to sleep.

Matt’s dream POV

you and Matt were sitting on your bed working on the project. Matt wasn’t paying attention to you as much and you were bothered by it. you took matters into your hands and you closed the book he was studying. you got on top of him, sitting on his lap as he gets caught off guard. you pull him into a passionate kiss and next thing you knew, you were under the covers tangled together naked.

End of Matt’s dream

Matt’s POV

i woke up sitting up quickly with my breathing uneven. what was that?! my heart was racing. did i just have a wet dream?!

i pulled up the covers to see a wet stain on top of the crotch of my sweats. what the fuck. this has never happened before. with y/n?! why? because of what i saw yesterday? i never even had sex before. how could i have easily dreamed of it? i gulp before getting up. i head to the bathroom to clean myself. i really can’t believe that just happened. now all i could do is replay it in my head. i groan at the thought.

after i got ready, i headed straight to school. on the drive there, i still couldn’t stop replaying everything that happened in my dream. even if i tried to distract myself, it wouldn’t go away. i needed it bad.

End of Matt’s POV

you and Matt were in class as you tried to tell him a story. all he was doing was nodding and staying quiet. “Matt? are you okay?” you question. he shakes his head before speaking, “yeah- yeah i’m good. sorry.” you give him a questionable look as you reply, “well you weren’t really paying attention as i spoke.” you laugh a bit. “oh i was.” he says with a nervous smile. “yeah okay.” you say turning your body straight, pretending to pay attention to the teacher.

Matt does the same as he groans quietly to himself. he didn’t know if he should tell you or not about what he imagined. he decided to shrug it off.

it was the end of the day again as you both end up at Matt’s house. you were standing up as you rehearsed your lines on what to say for the presentation. Matt just sat there looking lost. “Matt seriously what is wrong? i can’t do this without you, you know?” you say frustrated. “i’m sorry. i’ve just been having a hard time.” he responds scratching the back of his neck. “well we really need to focus on this. if you need to get something off your chest, do it now so we can continue.” you say. Matt hesitates before speaking, “okay well i sort of had an odd dream last night.” you look at him confused. “okay?” you reply. “it wasn’t a normal dream.” he continues.

“what? were you like having sex or something?” you ask jokingly with a laugh. but he just sits there staying silent with a blank face. “oh. oh! you did!” you exclaim. “who was it about?” asking with curiosity. “some random girl from class.” he says lying through his teeth. “so what’s the big deal?” you ask. “this your first time having a wet dream?” all he does is nod. you widen your eyes, “really? that’s new. i would’ve thought you were like every other guy constantly thinking about sex.” letting out a laugh. “why is it bothering you so much?”

“because, it’s weird. especially with this specific girl.” he responds. you raise an eyebrow before asking a question, “have you ever had sex before?” the question takes Matt by surprise as he responds quickly, “of course i have!” he lies. you let out a laugh. “okay! sorry! well then you shouldn’t be so weirded out. now come on. lets focus.” replying to him.

it still was eating him in the inside.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

after the weeks flew by, you and Matt got an ‘A’ for your presentation. you decided to celebrate by treating Matt with fast food. you both sat on his bed eating. “thank you for being such a good partner.” you say with a smile taking a bite from your burger. “no, thank you.” he replies. you couldn’t help but notice he still was acting strange these past days. “Matt don’t tell me you’re still on about the sex dream.” you ask wiping your hands with a napkin. “you should just shoot your shot already since it’s eating you up. maybe she’ll feel the same.” he shakes his head, “i wouldn’t know how to approach her. plus, that’s weird. i had a sex dream about her and what? i just walk up to her and tell her that? that's creepy.” he replies. you laugh at his response. “well not quite but, i don’t like how you’re acting so off.” you say taking another bite.

Matt sighs as he shakes his head, “just forget it y/n. i’m fine.” you stop in your place as you shake your head. “okay that’s it.” placing the unfinished food on his side table. you wipe your mouth with a napkin as you look at him. it was silent for a bit until you spoke up, “do you want to kiss me?” you blurt out. Matt’s eyes widen. “what?” he asks.

Matt’s POV

i hesitated for a bit. “to help distract you.” she says with a small laugh. "uh- uh yeah sure." I say hesitantly. i mean i couldn’t pass up on the opportunity. i scoot closer to her. i’ve only ever kissed one other person and i don’t think it was good so maybe this will be different. i can hear my heart pounding out of my chest. i put my hand on her cheek as i lean in and kiss her softly. she scoots closer without breaking the kiss, putting her hands on my shoulders.

to her she might think this is just a distraction but, little did she know my dream was about her. we continue to kiss as she swings her leg around to straddle me. i put my hands on her waist as the kisses get heavier. i could feel myself get hard beneath her and i could tell she notices. i pull away from embarrassment, “i’m so sorry.” i say. all she does is smile and respond with, “it’s okay.” pulling me into another kiss. i could feel her start to grind against my clothed dick. i let out a small groan from the feeling. i pull away as i lay her down gently. “d-do you want to do this?” i say nervously but, i couldn’t expose the fact this would be my first. she nods as she kisses me again. she takes off my shirt as i do the same for her. i unbutton my jeans and pull them off leaving me in my boxers as she does the same with her pants leaving her in her under garments. i gulp looking at her body. come on Matt play it cool. we kiss again as she rubs my dick through my boxers. i really hope i’m big enough.

i reach into my drawer as i pull out a condom. i bought a box just in case i were to lose it. which i am now, so it was good preparation. i open rip off the deal as i look at her. “uh.. i haven’t done this in a while so.. i might not be as good.” i warn her lying. i’ve never done this at all. i had to prepare her just in case i cum quick. “it’ll be good” she reassures me. she takes the condom from my hand as i take off my boxers slowly. i see her eyes widen a bit as she slowly wraps the condom on my dick. i lay her back down, sliding her panties to the side, and align myself at her entrance. she gives me a smile as i look down at what i’m about to do. i push myself into her slowly as i watch her relax.

i hear her moan softly as i continue to push my full length into her. “shit.” i groan quietly. i watch her face as i start to thrust slowly. she shut her eyes as she bites her lip softly. i can’t believe this is happening. my dream finally coming true. i pick up the pace as i put both my hands on her sides. “yes just like that.” she moans out putting her hands on my chest. i kiss her as i continue to go deeper into her keeping my fast tempo.

“fuck Matt you feel so good.” she moans. every time she spoke i felt my dick twitch. her moans were heavenly. “you’re so perfect.” i whisper to her. i lay myself on her slightly as she scratches my back. her scratches were hard as i feel the slight sting.

all my worries disappear once i find out i’m actually doing a good job. she made me feel a bit more confident. as soon as i was about to cum i pull out because i wanted to keep pleasing her. i pull her by her thighs as i put my head in between her legs. i start licking at her folds softly as she lets out a breath. i then start sliding my tongue up and down, swirling my tongue on her clit. i felt her grip my hair lightly. “oh Matt.” she moans. “you taste so good.” i say continuing to eat her out. “Matt i’m going to cum.” she says as i start to suck on her clit. she throws her head back as she arches her back, shoving her pussy more into my face. “yes Matt just like that!” she screams out as she cums all over my mouth.

i get back up as i lick my lips, realigning myself as i thrust back into her sensitive core. she gasps as she grips onto my arms. i thrust at a fast pace before cumming inside her into the condom. “oh fuck.” i moan out.

we were both catching our breath as i pull out of her. i take off the condom and throw it in the trash. "you must be a pro or something. that was incredible.” she says sitting up putting her clothes on.

good to know. little did she know, i ain't ever did this before.

a/n: not my best work lol. likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! thank you :)

[dreamesamu]

THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED

in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him

starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader

genre(s): angst to fluff, (super, like-) long scenario 

warning(s): none, i think so? except for clueless keiji and not proof-reading

author’s note: akaashi is just a major green flag in this (every haikyu!! boy is 😭) i feel too bad to write them red-flag-y.

choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi

you’ve known akaashi for quite some time, starting from your last year of fukurodani academy and then serendipity brought you both ended up being each other’s classmate at a same college/university. bokuto kotaro was your best friend, the little owl introduced his favorite setter to you and the friendship of three gradually become established, and as if it can not be any more inevitably, you eventually developed a secret admiration for the pretty setter when you three have been closed enough. however, graduating separated ways, kotaro pursued his journey to become professional in volleyball while keiji, once said to you he wanted a place in the literature department.

truth be told, even if you promised each other you would still keep in touch and plan every weekend friend group meeting online or offline, you’ve never expect you would share every class in higher education life with your crush, the akaashi keiji. the great thing is you both are paired up for an presentation assignment in the major you and him pursue, you do have plenty of time to stay close and grab his attention from making gestures that he usually failed to realizes.

here you are again, happily humming your favourite song while carrying a box wrapped with a small detailed towel, some big rolls of assignment paper stuck underneath your arm as you make your way back to where you both planned to finish the project - the library. 

“keiji, i’m back!” you set your things respectively on the table, and akaashi nods with a smile on his face in acknowledgement.

“oookay, so here’s your today’s snack, I hope you’ll like it” you grin, tapping on the box before pushing it to his side as he receives it and casually opens it while speaking.

“hmm? are those sketches of our poster? you can always edit them on the computer, why the effort?” he chuckled softly before completely unwrapping the bento box.

“I’m not good at designing and stuff. I may draw as I like and you’ll be the one to edit it on the computer.” you puff your cheek out, hands resting on hips as you watch his reaction to your delicately decorated sweets in the box made for him.

“this looks amazing.” he smiles upon seeing the pastries you made, decorated beautifully with different kinds of fruit as each pastry has different flavours, you probably did not stay up so late last night just to make all kinds of flavours for him to show how much you like him. yeah, probably not.

"oh, it's nothing, I just hope it doesn't taste bad" you chuckle nervously while scratching the back of your neck, letting his praise send you up to cloud nine.

your actions falter when you see akaashi put back the box's cap on, set it aside as he leans over to reach the posters you drew.

"now then, can we start working on the project?" he spreads out the piece of paper, glancing at you as you stand there awkwardly, prefer him taking a bite to look through all of your efforts than just shrugging it off and go straight to the main part of your study session.

"what...? oh- um..." you trail off, a bit embarrassed. "wouldn't you like to try one out? it won't hurt to just have a taste of it..."

"maybe later, y/n. we have other things need to be done right now." he merely states, eyes study the poster in front of him, unknowingly sinking your heart.

"yes, right." you shift slightly, taking the sit by the opposite of him, trying to catch up with him on the progress.

you let your mind wanders off how many times you've lost count already while akaashi quietly focused on scribbling something in his notebook, every thoughts you have are always about keiji, your feelings and the stare you give him thinking it's discreet. what's stopping him from trying my tarts out? and how does he feel being around me? or is that his way of rejecting something without making that person feel bad? flooded your mind.

"y/n?" you realize his faint voice ringing somewhere "y/n..." the voice becomes clearer. "earth to y/n, you're staring." awh, snap. right.

you blink, startled before clearing your throat, mumbling a small apology as you try to get yourself busy with the work underneath you once again.

but akaashi just chuckles, his voice calm and reassuring.

"hey, you seem off today. it's lunch break, please make yourself comfortable." you fumble at his words, it's noon already? as he collects his books and tidy it up at one corner of the table before speaking again.

"yuri satsuki is inviting me to have lunch with her. would you like to also join? i think she wouldn't mind." he kindly offers, probably not knowing the words struck you shocked.

you know satsuki-senpai, she's a year older than you and has been a social butterfly ever since you set foot in student life. she is a nice person, you conceived, but not until you found out that she has a huge crush on your akaashi keiji, her behaviour in your eyes became somewhat annoying. in return, she did realize she had a rival to win over him, you acknowledge that through the smug look she gave every time akaashi was around her instead of you, that is how the tension gradually builds up between you and your pain-in-the-ass rival.

and now she's even invited keiji for lunch? you feel an uncomfortable twist in your belly, screaming that if you do not take further actions, you lose akaashi to her. but his way of discarding your hard work, also known as an attempt to get his attention earlier discourages you hastily. this comes to a realization: ever since he start hanging out with satsuki-senpai, he has never touched one of your cooks once.

"no, i'm fine staying here. you go" you force a smile waving him goodbye. he hesitates upon seeing the downward trend of your mood as well as the strange attitude every time he brings up yuri.

"what are you waiting for?" you scoff, trying your best to make it sound not so bitterly. he nods quietly before ruffles your hair, thoughtfully remind you to get something to eat before start working again, and he'll be back with you soon.

you groan for the nth time in thirty minutes since his last leave, deciding not to eat anything at all after you laugh bitterly to yourself seeing the bento box laid cold by his stuffs which corrects your thoughts that he is not going to appreciate what you did for him.

the chair scraped the floor when you stand up, attempting to compose yourself when you feel your brain need a break from overthinking such situations.

on the way out of the library, your eyes meet yuri satsuki's, assuming that keiji is just somewhere around here as his lunch break partner is the person you least excited to bump into.

"well, well. isn't that the girl whose best friend choose to hang out with me instead of her?"

excuse me?

"don't get too ahead of yourself, satsuki-senpai. just a friendly reminder" your tone evidently irritated as you flash her an unamused smile, trying to avoid her as soon as possible.

but the radio scene of her voice replayed all over your head, your mind goes muddy despite the fresh air you're trying to take in, you let out a shaky breath, tears brimming out.

maybe, he doesn't quite noticed the things I did for him after all...

---

"you're back. where were you?" akaashi worried tone surprises you after a quite fine time of trying to find you because your study desk in the library was empty.

"i was... out for fresh air. why?" your voice is off and he noticed that. he always knew when something is bothering you, and right now he definitely know that something is wrong.

"after i finished my lunch i got yours, 'cause i know when i'm back you would still hadn't eaten anything." his brows slightly furrow seeing your avoiding attitude.

"thanks, keiji." you said briefly, take the package from his hand and sit down on your seat, never forget to notice the pastry box still intact.

your strange attitude didn't just stop there, it confuses akaashi for a more couple of days of your avoidance, he dislike the way you put a small distance between you both in study sessions, you flinch and tense around him more often, your answers and conversations are brief and sometimes awkward as you seem to be more preoccupied and attentive rather than to communicate with him.

"good morning, y/n." he smiles, your state has been bothering him for days as he is paying attention to your fade grin and a small "hey" as a greet back.

then he fumbles. something is missing...

oh. but then, realization sets in him quite quickly: you didn't bring any homemade sweets today.

"y/n..." he hesitates, meeting your eyes as you lift your head up from the notebook you're scribbling on. "does your home perhaps... out of ingredients or something?"

you are stunned for a moment, knowing exactly what he was trying to imply, scared to look at him directly in the eye as you shift your gaze elsewhere, pretending to have forgotten.

"oh... you mean the pastries... I forgot to do it. I was busy yesterday"

lies. he see through it, you know that, but you can't just blurt it all out that you're heartbreaking because of his indirect rejection that never says he doesn't like you, but makes you feel like it did.

"hey... i know something is wrong, can you tell me what it is?"

there it is - the worried look on such handsome face that never fails to make your heart flutter. but you know, that is just his nature of being an attentive and thoughtful person, not just for only you, but for everyone in his orbit.

so his question remained unanswered.

akaashi has been extremely distracted due to the sudden lack of your affection on him. it's just doesn't feel the same. even if he refuses it but deep down, he misses your midday snacks, your bubbly laugh around him and that flushed cheeks you wear every time he caught you staring. it has been a whole week since, and the fact that you didn't join the friend group video call with bokuto last sunday was his last straw.

he misses you, dearly. and if he doesn't do anything now before your project is finished, he might find it difficult to approach you even when you are his best friend.

and then, on an another lovely morning in the college's campus, an emotion he thinks he's aware of stirring in his stomach at the scene of you handing out a bento box wrapped with the same detailed towel, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as the other boy laughs lightly, scratches his neck, sending regards with a polite bow before making his way back in the classroom, akaashi doesn't like what his eyes have witnessed, so when he met yours, the bitterful look sends shivers down your spine.

you turn away, begin to walk, you do not want to deal with your bothered heart right now, not if it has anything to do with him, with that thought, you choose to neglect it because it is just your one-sided feelings for him.

but you hear footsteps behind, next is a small "wait" escaped from his lips when he managed to catch up and hold gently on your arm. that stopped you midtrack.

"please. can we talk?" he pleads.

---

you find yourself trapped by his presence in a corner of the school's library. there's no point in avoiding now.

"i'm sorry." he states. "i like you, i should've known."

your eyes widen. why- all of a sudden?

akaashi glances at you, softly sighs before bring your hand up to his face and kiss your knuckles gently.

"i understand now, i was clueless, you have the very right to be mad at me." each sentences he speaks crack your heart, but at the same time, they give you hope.

you neither know how to react, nor what to say, you just stand there, completely speechless, it encourages him to continue his speech of pursuing you.

"the last time i went to have lunch with satsuki, she confessed to me." he stopped, watching your expression. "but i turned her down, then, she got angry and started to brag about you. i did not like what she said, so i got quite defensive and... that was when i realised."

"i didn't know when it started. i just knew that i didn't feel very comfortable seeing you bringing your pastries that was meant for me to someone else, and more it's because i didn't appreciate it."

he squeezes your hand, afraid if not, you'll slip from his grip and become somebody else's apple. he certainly dislikes the thought.

"i want your pastries back, i love them as much as i love you. please let me correct such a terrible mistake."

---

"yes, hello. i've received the box, thank you, my love."

akaashi spins his office chair slightly, softly speaking to the phone stuck between his cheek and shoulder with a smile while unwrapping a huge warm box of freshly baked tarts.

"keiji, bad news, i'm out of powdered sugar after that batch." your voice echoed on output, he chuckles.

"are you free after work? we can visit the supermarket to purchase some. i'll drive, consider this a date with me, 'mkay?"

© 2024 dreamesamu. all rights reserved.

[transhitman]

Ok I posted about this in anger a while back but I'm gonna say it more intelligently and actually tag it because I think it's something people need to hear. Something that bugs me about how people talk about the morality of the men in this game is that a lot of analysis totally glosses over Anya's motives and what she actually asks of people, and in doing so once again strips her of agency. Like. The reason Curly sucks isn't because he failed to properly punish Jimmy, it's because he ignored Anya in favor of her abuser. He didn't listen to her regarding how to move forward, he didn't give her a way to protect herself. No matter what he would have done to Jimmy, Anya is still traumatized and in danger, and that's the most important point of failure.

I think a lot of people are projecting a revenge fantasy on Anya, and while I'm not gonna argue about the validity of revenge here, for Anya specifically I think that's a major mischaracterization. She's the one who says that our worst moments don't make us monsters. And while yes, this could just be her trying to appease her abusers, she still doesn't strike me as a particularly vindictive person. She's a nurse, symbolically in a role associated with care and healing. Before the crash, she seems like a very soft-spoken and restrained person. Hell, she can't stand giving Curly his meds because she feels so bad for him. There isn't really a point in the game where she calls for violence at all. And even if punishing Jimmy or Curly is morally correct (subjective), saying that it's what anyone Should have done still glosses over Anya's wants and needs. It still centers the abuser, even in vitriol.

It's especially weird to see people judge Swansea on these grounds, because like... We don't know what his dynamic with Anya was like. We don't actually know what she said to him, if she even confided about her pregnancy or the SA at all! I honestly think Swansea's actions give more credence to the idea that Anya herself wanted a peaceful resolution. The whole "Oh, I'm holding it together" thing, him becoming more hostile after speaking with Anya... He waits until Daisuke AND ANYA are dead before trying to kill Jimmy. I think the obvious reading is that he wants Jimmy dead, but Anya asked him not to do anything crazy. Genuinely, I think Anya just wanted to be safe. She wanted out above everything. She didn't want more violence. The only violence she commits is against herself in the end, in order to escape this hell her coworkers made for her.

And like. Swansea is kind of the only one who actually did try to protect Anya in a meaningful way. I won't say that he couldn't have done more for her - all of the men on that ship failed her in some regard - but Swansea intentionally keeps the axe out of Jimmy's hands. He keeps the pod a secret, probably to give to Daisuke, but we can't say anything for sure. I joke that Swansea should have killed Jimmy from the start, but if we're being real that would have been an insane thing to do given what the characters know. But Swansea isn't the point of this post. Like. Idk I just think it's really bizarre that when people discuss Anya's assault, they still do it from the perspective of the men involved. It's weird and I don't like it. Like people have said before me: it's not enough to hate abusers, you have to love victims.

[sarcasticscribbles]

BOYCOTT EUROVISION FOR ISRAEL PARTICIPATION.

I am the Eurovision gay this time of year, I love this show. Not only is my country hosting 2024 but it's also in a city I love, but I can't watch as people sing about peace and love while Palestinians are getting killed by one of the participants.

I've complied a couple of petitions, open letters and information regarding Eurovision: Eurovision isn't the highest priority regarding Gaza, but this show is marketing & tourism for countries, Israel is using it to pink wash their politics

According to SVT, Swedish television network in charge of Eurovision 2024 in Sweden Malmö, Eurovision is apolitical, and therefore Israel qualify. They refer to any calls for boycott meaningless ( via )

SVT statement:

[ID: "SVT statement on the debate over Israel’s participation in the Eurovision Song Contest

Israel’s participation in the Eurovision Song Contest is generating debate and today a number of Swedish artists have called on the EBU to cancel Israel’s participation in the Eurovision Song Contest 2024. It is the EBU’s decision which public broadcasters may take part in the event, and as the host broadcaster, SVT follows the EBU’s decisions. The humanitarian suffering in this deeply complex conflict is devastating. Nobody can be left unmoved by the current situation in Gaza, or by the Hamas attack in Israel. We are also concerned about these developments. We understand and respect that groups of people wish to make their voices heard. As the host broadcaster, SVT has an ongoing dialogue with the EBU about the challenges of producing Europe’s largest TV-production in times of unrest. We are humbled by the task and are working to ensure the project can be carried out in the best way possible, with the vision that music unites." END ID]

Eurovision has always been political, and was created as a celebration of peace after WW2. Songs are statements, and EBU took action by banning Russia and Belarus for the invasion of Ukraine. It's a way to show sympathy and solidarity, which Gaza is in need of now.

Why Eurovision is so important to Israel is the opportunity of pink washing, and appearing liberal and LGBTQ-friendly, that the show encourages. This leads to great marketing and tourism for the country, alqueerian on twitter did a great thread about it:

[ID: Tweet from @ alqueerian on X formerly known as Twitter. Tweet: "A really quick thread on pinkwashing and why it’s wrong: pinkwashing is a term that was coined by LGBTQ Palestinians to specifically refer to the use of homophobia as a justification for israeli war crimes, ethnic cleansing, mass displacement, starvation etc." END ID]

Full thread

WHAT YOU CAN DO:

Here are a couple of petitions, open letters and links to encourage the ban of Israel in Eurovision

And if all fail: we boycott

Here are two petitions for the ban of Israel: Petition 1

Petition 2

A list of emails and contact information for broadcasters regarding Israel participation: copy, paste and send. Document

It's created by verilybitchie on YouTube who also made a great call to action video I can recommend

[ID: Screenshot of verilybitchie youtube video "Genocide at the Eurovision Song Contest". The video is showing an article by Chris Lockeyer, news reposter, titled "Israel to compete at Eurovision despite boycott threats" The article says: "The European broadcast Union said its member organisations approved Israel's participation in the competition and it remains aligned with other competition organisations on its stance." The article is from December 19th, 2023. END ID]

And for Swedes, I think it's extra important for us to speak up; here's what we can do:

Open letter via Björk & Frihet, a charity in Skåne offer letters to sign but also have pdf version to print at home!

[ID: Photo from Björk & Frihet, a swedish charity offering open letters to sign to send to the government. "Stoppa folkmordet" as the letters are ladled, means "stop the genocide" END ID]

This is also a letter regarding the contest being held in Malmö, a city with a long history fighting for Palestine! Sign here

[ID: Vote for Swedes in Malmö to sign to protest Israel's participation in Eurovision. END ID]

Meanwhile, don't forget your daily clicks to help Palestine while we wait for EBU to stand by their words and prove we are united by music!

[ID: Iceland's Hatari holds up Palestinian flags during Eurovision in Tel Aviv, May 19, 2019. END ID]

[zelcii]

sense | james potter

"you're not selfish for wanting to be treated well," you remind yourself, your voice barely a whisper as you slip into the dimly lit library. the echoes of your parents' howler still ring in your ears as it did while it echoed off the walls of the great hall. its harsh words were seared into your mind. you can still see the mocking smirks of the slytherins, and hear the whispers from your own housemates—hufflepuff loyalty running thin.

you’ve been trying so hard, but your grades this year have been less than impressive, and nothing you do seems to make a difference to your parents. it was enough that you'd been housed in hufflepuff. you just always seemed to find a new way to disappoint someone.

you wander through the rows of books, blinking back the tears that have been threatening to fall since breakfast. you find a quiet corner, hidden behind a stack of dusty old tomes, and sink to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. the library is mostly empty this time of day, a perfect place to disappear for a while.

but not for long.

you hear him, harsh whispers exchanged with his friends, before you see him.

james potter's sat in front of you, a concerned frown replacing his usual grin. he leans back, crossing his arms as he watches you with those warm, green eyes. the two of you would talk often. either in passing or during classes. he'd gotten into the habit of pairing up with you for projects. whether compelled by pride or pity, you weren't entirely sure. you considered him a good friend. not so much a close one.

“fancy finding you here,” he says, trying for his usual light-hearted tone but failing. "don't even remember the last time I've seen you 'round a book."

you don't look up at him, your vision blurry with tears. "not really looking for company right now, potter." your voice is muffled as you speak.

james tilts his head, his frown deepening. "good thing it found you, then."

you sniffle, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "what do you want?"

“to talk, maybe?” he suggests, leaning forward with a playful smirk. “or at least distract your pretty little head from all that house shit with my dazzling wit and charm.”

you can’t help but let out a small, watery laugh. “you really think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“someone has to,” he quips, but there’s no real arrogance in his voice, just a gentle teasing meant to pull you out of your funk. “besides, you’re one to talk. weren't you the one calling yourself dumbledor's reincarnate?” james laughed, his eyes teasing as they held your gaze. "he's not even dead, love."

love.

you roll your eyes, but his effort to make you smile isn’t lost on you. “was just joking."

"well then, it was a wonderful joke."

"flattery will get you no where, potter," you retort.

"charmed thing i like it right here with you, isn't it?" james' expression softens, his teasing fading into genuine concern. you blush. “i saw what happened this morning. i'm sorry about your parents… they’re tough.”

you nod, swallowing hard. “they're just… pureblood. you know? nothing will ever be enough.”

james sighs, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on your knee. the warmth of his touch somehow grounding. his silence is far more reassuring than any combination of words someone else could string together.

you look down at his hand, at the way his fingers curl gently against your knee. your voice is barely above a whisper, ashamed of all that's happened in a single morning. “they said I was selfish. for… for wanting more from them.”

“they’re wrong,” James says firmly, his voice steady and reassuring. “you’re not selfish for wanting to be seen and heard. for wanting to be loved for who you are, not for what they want you to be.”

“you sound like professor mcgonagall.” a tear slips down your cheek though you can't help but laugh. "thank you," it's soft and endearing when you say it.

james grins, a bit of his usual mischief returning to his eyes. “anytime. now, what do you say we blow off some steam? maybe a trip to the kitchens?"

james stands up, offering you his hand. you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. he doesn’t let go right away, his fingers lingering in yours as he looks down at you, his expression suddenly serious again.

“you know, the others'll make sense of it. eventually,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

"i know," you give him a small, grateful smile. “just as long as it makes some sense to you.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

There’s no such thing as “shareholder supremacy”

On SEPTEMBER 24th, I'll be speaking IN PERSON at the BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY!

Here's a cheap trick: claim that your opponents' goals are so squishy and qualitative that no one will ever be able to say whether they've been succeeded or failed, and then declare that your goals can be evaluated using crisp, objective criteria.

This is the whole project of "economism," the idea that politics, with its emphasis on "fairness" and other intangibles, should be replaced with a mathematical form of economics, where every policy question can be reduced to an equation…and then "solved":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/28/imagine-a-horse/#perfectly-spherical-cows-of-uniform-density-on-a-frictionless-plane

Before the rise of economism, it was common to speak of its subjects as "political economy" or even "moral philosophy" (Adam Smith, the godfather of capitalism, considered himself a "moral philosopher"). "Political economy" implicitly recognizes that every policy has squishy, subjective, qualitative dimensions that don't readily boil down to math.

For example, if you're asking about whether people should have the "freedom" to enter into contracts, it might be useful to ask yourself how desperate your "free" subject might be, and whether the entity on the other side of that contract is very powerful. Otherwise you'll get "free contracts" like "I'll sell you my kidneys if you promise to evacuate my kid from the path of this wildfire."

The problem is that power is hard to represent faithfully in quantitative models. This may seem like a good reason to you to be skeptical of modeling, but for economism, it's a reason to pretend that the qualitative doesn't exist. The method is to incinerate those qualitative factors to produce a dubious quantitative residue and do math on that:

https://locusmag.com/2021/05/cory-doctorow-qualia/

Hence the famous Ely Devons quote: "If economists wished to study the horse, they wouldn’t go and look at horses. They’d sit in their studies and say to themselves, ‘What would I do if I were a horse?’"

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/27/economism/#what-would-i-do-if-i-were-a-horse

The neoliberal revolution was a triumph for economism. Neoliberal theorists like Milton Friedman replaced "political economy" with "law and economics," the idea that we should turn every one of our complicated, nuanced, contingent qualitative goals into a crispy defined "objective" criteria. Friedman and his merry band of Chicago School economists replaced traditional antitrust (which sought to curtail the corrupting power of large corporations) with a theory called "consumer welfare" that used mathematics to decide which monopolies were "efficient" and therefore good (spoiler: monopolists who paid Friedman's pals to do this mathematical analysis always turned out to be running "efficient" monopolies):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/20/we-should-not-endure-a-king/

One of Friedman's signal achievements was the theory of "shareholder supremacy." In 1970, the New York Times published Friedman's editorial "The Social Responsibility of Business Is to Increase Its Profits":

https://www.nytimes.com/1970/09/13/archives/a-friedman-doctrine-the-social-responsibility-of-business-is-to.html

In it, Friedman argued that corporate managers had exactly one job: to increase profits for shareholders. All other considerations – improving the community, making workers' lives better, donating to worthy causes or sponsoring a little league team – were out of bounds. Managers who wanted to improve the world should fund their causes out of their paychecks, not the corporate treasury.

Friedman cloaked his hymn to sociopathic greed in the mantle of objectivism. For capitalism to work, corporations have to solve the "principal-agent" problem, the notoriously thorny dilemma created when one person (the principal) asks another person (the agent) to act on their behalf, given the fact that the agent might find a way to line their own pockets at the principal's expense (for example, a restaurant server might get a bigger tip by offering to discount diners' meals).

Any company that is owned by stockholders and managed by a CEO and other top brass has a huge principal-agent problem, and yet, the limited liability, joint-stock company had produced untold riches, and was considered the ideal organization for "capital formation" by Friedman et al. In true economismist form, Friedman treated all the qualitative questions about the duty of a company as noise and edited them out of the equation, leaving behind a single, elegant formulation: "a manager is doing their job if they are trying to make as much money as possible for their shareholders."

Friedman's formulation was a hit. The business community ran wild with it. Investors mistook an editorial in the New York Times for an SEC rulemaking and sued corporate managers on the theory that they had a "fiduciary duty" to "maximize shareholder value" – and what's more, the courts bought it. Slowly and piecemeal at first, but bit by bit, the idea that rapacious greed was a legal obligation turned into an edifice of legal precedent. Business schools taught it, movies were made about it, and even critics absorbed the message, insisting that we needed to "repeal the law" that said that corporations had to elevate profit over all other consideration (not realizing that no such law existed).

It's easy to see why shareholder supremacy was so attractive for investors and their C-suite Renfields: it created a kind of moral crumple-zone. Whenever people got angry at you for being a greedy asshole, you could shrug and say, "My hands are tied: the law requires me to run the business this way – if you don't believe me, just ask my critics, who insist that we must get rid of this law!"

In a long feature for The American Prospect, Adam M Lowenstein tells the story of how shareholder supremacy eventually came into such wide disrepute that the business lobby felt that it had to do something about it:

https://prospect.org/power/2024-09-17-ponzi-scheme-of-promises/

It starts in 2018, when Jamie Dimon and Warren Buffett decried the short-term, quarterly thinking in corporate management as bad for business's long-term health. When Washington Post columnist Steve Pearlstein wrote a column agreeing with them and arguing that even moreso, businesses should think about equities other than shareholder returns, Jamie Dimon lost his shit and called Pearlstein to call it "the stupidest fucking column I’ve ever read":

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2018/06/07/will-ending-quarterly-earnings-guidance-free-ceos-to-think-long-term/

But the dam had broken. In the months and years that followed, the Business Roundtable would adopt a series of statements that repudiated shareholder supremacy, though of course they didn't admit it. Rather, they insisted that they were clarifying that they'd always thought that sometimes not being a greedy asshole could be good for business, too. Though these statements were nonbinding, and though the CEOs who signed them did so in their personal capacity and not on behalf of their companies, capitalism's most rabid stans treated this as an existential crisis.

Lowenstein identifies this as the forerunner to today's panic over "woke corporations" and "DEI," and – just as with "woke capitalism" – the whole thing amounted to a a PR exercise. Lowenstein links to several studies that found that the CEOs who signed onto statements endorsing "stakeholder capitalism" were "more likely to lay off employees during COVID-19, were less inclined to contribute to pandemic relief efforts, had 'higher rates of environmental and labor-related compliance violations,”' emitted more carbon into the atmosphere, and spent more money on dividends and buybacks."

One researcher concluded that "signing this statement had zero positive effect":

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/08/companies-stand-solidarity-are-licensing-themselves-discriminate/614947

So shareholder supremacy isn't a legal obligation, and statements repudiating shareholder supremacy don't make companies act any better.

But there's an even more fundamental flaw in the argument for the shareholder supremacy rule: it's impossible to know if the rule has been broken.

The shareholder supremacy rule is an unfalsifiable proposition. A CEO can cut wages and lay off workers and claim that it's good for profits because the retained earnings can be paid as a dividend. A CEO can raise wages and hire more people and claim it's good for profits because it will stop important employees from defecting and attract the talent needed to win market share and spin up new products.

A CEO can spend less on marketing and claim it's a cost-savings. A CEO can spend more on marketing and claim it's an investment. A CEO can eliminate products and call it a savings. A CEO can add products and claim they're expansions into new segments. A CEO can settle a lawsuit and claim they're saving money on court fees. A CEO can fight a lawsuit through to the final appeal and claim that they're doing it to scare vexatious litigants away by demonstrating their mettle.

CEOs can use cheaper, inferior materials and claim it's a savings. They can use premium materials and claim it's a competitive advantage that will produce new profits. Everything a company does can be colorably claimed as an attempt to save or make money, from sponsoring the local little league softball team to treating effluent to handing ownership of corporate landholdings to perpetual trusts that designate them as wildlife sanctuaries.

Bribes, campaign contributions, onshoring, offshoring, criminal conspiracies and conference sponsorships – there's a business case for all of these being in line with shareholder supremacy.

Take Boeing: when the company smashed its unions and relocated key production to scab plants in red states, when it forced out whistleblowers and senior engineers who cared about quality, when it outsourced design and production to shops around the world, it realized a savings. Today, between strikes, fines, lawsuits, and a mountain of self-inflicted reputational harm, the company is on the brink of ruin. Was Boeing good to its shareholders? Well, sure – the shareholders who cashed out before all the shit hit the fan made out well. Shareholders with a buy-and-hold posture (like the index funds that can't sell their Boeing holdings so long as the company is in the S&P500) got screwed.

Right wing economists criticize the left for caring too much about "how big a slice of the pie they're getting" rather than focusing on "growing the pie." But that's exactly what Boeing management did – while claiming to be slaves to Friedman's shareholder supremacy. They focused on getting a bigger slice of the pie, screwing their workers, suppliers and customers in the process, and, in so doing, they made the pie so much smaller that it's in danger of disappearing altogether.

Here's the principal-agent problem in action: Boeing management earned bonuses by engaging in corporate autophagia, devouring the company from within. Now, long-term shareholders are paying the price. Far from solving the principal-agent problem with a clean, bright-line rule about how managers should behave, shareholder supremacy is a charter for doing whatever the fuck a CEO feels like doing. It's the squishiest rule imaginable: if someone calls you cruel, you can blame the rule and say you had no choice. If someone calls you feckless, you can blame the rule and say you had no choice. It's an excuse for every season.

The idea that you can reduce complex political questions – like whether workers should get a raise or whether shareholders should get a dividend – to a mathematical rule is a cheap sleight of hand. The trick is an obvious one: the stuff I want to do is empirically justified, while the things you want are based in impossible-to-pin-down appeals to emotion and its handmaiden, ethics. Facts don't care about your feelings, man.

But it's feelings all the way down. Milton Friedman's idol-worshiping cult of shareholder supremacy was never about empiricism and objectivity. It's merely a gimmick to make greed seem scientifically optimal.

The paperback edition of The Lost Cause, my nationally bestselling, hopeful solarpunk novel is out this month!

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/18/falsifiability/#figleaves-not-rubrics/a>

[jpitha]

The Oxygen Breathers

I thought I posted this one here, but it looks like I didn’t, so here you go!

It was always an event when the Humans visited.

They'd arrive in their sleek, smooth, thick ships; completely at odds with the other ships of the Coalition. Human ships always looked like they were grown rather than built. People would whisper how the Humans made their ships as tough as they were. How human ships could go atmospheric and land on the ground.

It was nonsense of course, no ship - human or otherwise - could do that. Kre'kk figured that the Humans probably spread that rumor themselves.

After they'd arrive, they would come out of the docking umbilical in their small, highly polished suits. They were a rare class of sapient indeed.

The Oxygen Breathers.

Most 'civilized' people in the Coalition came from worlds with manganese sulfur atmospheres. The humans with their oxidizer for a breathing gas were seen as brash, reckless folks who make decisions without proper consideration. Given the reactive nature of their atmosphere, it's practically a given that they too are more reactive in their choices.

Kre'kk stands at attention at the end of the umbilical ready to welcome the humans for their - hopefully - short visit. They come from a high gravity world with a single massive moon - fully a quarter of the size of their own planet itself - so their environmental defaults are... somewhat extreme compared to the rest of the Coalition. The never fail to mention the moon.

As they approached, they reach one half unit away from Kre'kk and stop. He looked down at them - they were about half his height - and he made the Universal Gesture of welcome. The humans reciprocate and Kre'kk’s head frill rustles.

"Welcome to Coalition Orbital 43559 - known to the Lemilar as 'Habilamen.' I am Administrator Kre'kk and I welcome you as equals for you visit."

The human at the head of the group is wearing a slightly different suit. Still polished and reflective, but where the rest of the humans are wearing suits of pitch black - darker than interstellar space - this one is a deep vermillion red. Kre'kk is drawn to the color. It's so rich! It almost looks wet.

When they begin to speak, a simplified icon of a human face is projected onto the smooth polished surface of the helmet. It seems that the humans have taken some care to make themselves look less frightening in their environmental suits. "Thank you for the greeting, Administrator Kre'kk. I am Captain Margaret Kellerman and this is my crew." She gestures behind her. "We plan on staying only for three cycles demi in order to take on a load of Ribanium and trade with any interested parties. I will share with you a manifest of what we have available to trade." She gestures on her arm, and the file appears on Kre'kk's pad.

Kre'kk is taken aback at her voice. It's so clear. She seems to be speaking through a translator, but it is getting the nuance and overtones of the Lemilar Trade Language perfectly. She could have a career as an entertainer or storyteller easily if she was a difference species. Kre’kk swallows. "Uh, thank you Captain, I have received your file and will distribute it. Please make use of our facilities during your stay."

Captain Kellerman's helmet flashed a icon of a face, smiling - without their teeth - broadly. "Thank you Administrator Kre'kk, we shall."

For two cycles, Kre'kk held out hope that the human's visit would be without incident. They came in quietly, did some minor trading, loaded their Ribanium and spent a… reasonable amount of money on entertainment and refreshments - suitable for their systems - while on board. Kre'kk felt they were trying very hard to be model visitors. Apparently they knew humans had a reputation in the Coalition for being... rowdy.

On the last demi cycle before the Humans were scheduled to depart a group of Felimen came over, angry. They had spent the entire two cycles previous loudly complaining that the humans shouldn't be here, and that they had captured Felimen colonies long ago and had begun the process of 'poisoning them' to be more suitable to them. The Human authorities maintain - and have the receipts to prove - that they purchased the planets legally from the Felimen, and never attempted to hide their goals of colonization and geoengineering. Regardless, a long, bloody war had followed and the humans had pushed the Felimen to capitulate and were currently engaged in a Cold War with each other.

Kre'kk was alerted as soon as the shouts started. The Felimen seemed to come to the humans wanting to cause trouble. For their part, the humans tried their best to talk the Felimen down. Their helmet icons were looking sad and quiet and they gestured in ways to try and reduce tension. The Felimen were having none of it though.

As Kre'kk undulated over to try and calm them, one of the Felimen in the back had wheeled out a battle rifle. Kre'kk had no idea how they had snuck it in, but it was completely banned on the Orbital and was cause for immediate expulsion. Before he could sound the alarm and get the Orbital authorities to come, they fired at the group of humans.

It proved to be a fatal error in judgement.

One of the humans in the front of the group was struck directly in their center of mass. They staggered back, and their suit showed significant damage. Luckily for them the suit was not penitrated. The humans reputation for building strong was well earned apparently.

Faster than Kre'kk could follow and only confirmed by viewing the security footage after the fact, three of the humans brought massive slug throwers to bear. Kre’kk knew that the Coalition sapient races find chemical powered metal slug throwers to be far too heavy to be hand weapons. If they are used, they're tripod or vehicle mounted. The humans are apparently experts in their manufacture and use, and can swing them around like they weigh nothing.

The noise of the slug throwers in the hall was deafening. Kre'kk winced as his active noise cancellation dampened the noise and wondered how the humans could take the noise without being injured, but he assumed they must also have some kind of noise cancelling built into their environmental suits.

They fired for a short time indeed, but it was more than enough. All of the Felimen were dead, with the ones in the front unrecognizable. The silence in the hall after they finished firing weighed heavy. It felt like an eternity after they had stopped before the station alarms sounded.

Kre'kk moved over to the humans. They were checking eachothers suits and cleaning up the small yellow colored pieces of metal that come flying out of their throwers when they fire. "Brass" is what they call it. Kre'kk gestured an apology. "I'm sorry. Battle weapons are banned here. You're going to have to leave now."

Captain Kellerman's icon showed pure fury. Her gauntlet covered hand pointed at him accusingly. "You're going to take their side, Administrator? You were here, you saw them. They shot first! They damaged the suit of one of my crew! It was through the luck of Forturne herself that his suit was not pierced!”

Kre'kk slid back one half unit unconsciously. "Be that as it may, you responded with… disproportionate force to their attack. It was uncalled for."

Captain Kellerman sputtered, her melodic voice taking on frightening undertones as the translator worked overtime to relay her fury to Kre'kk. "Uncalled for!? Administrator Kre'kk with all due respect you are out of line. You know about the war I assume, but do you know what they did to our colonies? They dropped nanobombs on our legally purchased colonies. They weren't trying to take back land, they were trying to obliterate us. I was there, I saw it with my own eyes."

Kre'kk was taken aback. This was not part of the standard narrative about the war. "I did not know that no, the Felimen-"

"The Felimen tell their own version of the war in order to garner support and sympathy against 'the aggressor human' I'm sure." Captain Kellerman sounded bitter in the translated voice. "Kre'kk. Your people border the Felimen opposite us do you not?"

"Yes, our territory borders theirs but-"

"And have you by any chance heard of some border worlds coming under some kind of unknown trouble? Maybe a strange illness, or unusually strong weather on the worlds?"

Kre'kk's frill rippled worriedly and he said nothing. He had heard about things like that.

Captain Kellerman cleared her helmet. Suddenly, Kre'kk saw her clearly. Small, with bilateral symmetry, close set binocular eyes and a small mouth, this was the first time Kre'kk saw a human as they are, not as their icons show them. They are predators. They are hunters.

They are terrifying.

Kre'kk unconsciously made a gesture of fear and slid back another half unit. Captain Kellerman's face contorted into a snarl. "Know this Kre'kk. It's only a matter of time before they do to you what they attempted - and failed - to do to us. Think hard about who your friends are and who in the Coalition you can come to for help when they start dropping nanobombs on your worlds." Just as suddenly as it had cleared, her helmet darkened again, and the cartoon icon of her face returned. It felt like a mockery to Kre'kk now.

The humans picked up the rest of their debris and freed their weapons. Faster than Kre'kk could ripple, they were all carrying slug throwers. "We're leaving, Administrator Kre'kk. If any Felimen even come within 5 units of us-" The people behind her cycled a round into their rifles for emphasis "-we will take it as a provocation and will respond with 'disproportionate' force."

"Y-yes Captain. I will relay this information."

"Oh and Administrator Kre'kk? Your Station will be added to the list of Orbitals where humans will not go. We will do no trading, sell no wares, and offer no defense. You and yours will do well to consider your stance vis-a-vis us and the Felimen."

Without another word, the group of humans turned and marched towards their ship. Shaking, Kre'kk signaled that they were not to be interrupted and made sure their warning about Felimen was relayed.

After they left and the mess was cleaned up, Kre'kk sat in his quarters and stared out the window at the planet below a long time. One of his creche mates was living on a newly founded colony bordering Felimen space. He began composing a message to beam to her asking if she had any plans about moving back.

[pomefioredove]

"Don't bite your lip, I want to do that" With Vil please 🥺👉👈

bravely writing something a little flirtier than usual... (as if this line hasn't been requested 3 times for that exact reason lol)

summary: "don't bite your lip, I want to do that" type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, good lort. a part of this event

"Are you nervous?"

The question is innocent enough, though you detect something subtly teasing hidden behind it.

His expression itself is neutral; you can tell by the glimmer in his eye.

"Is it that obvious?" it's a rhetorical question. Vil is able to read you like the back of his hand.

He smiles. "You look like you're about to make a run for it. Relax. It's just a presentation, you've done them before,"

You sink in your seat, clearly disagreeing. He tsks, and you immediately correct your posture.

He really keeps you on a short leash...

"This one is different," you insist. "This is a group magic project, keyword magic. I've already failed a third of it!"

Vil rolls his eyes at your dramatics, though his tone remains soft. His patience always seems endless when it comes to you.

"And you don't trust Grim to perform on your behalf?"

You stare back. Now that's a rhetorical question...

"Very well," he says, barely able to hold back a smile. "Let's try this again, I'll be nicer this time. Don't forget to project."

You're not even sure how you can project when you're basically right next to each other. You think he just likes saying it.

Nonetheless, you sigh. "Fine... I'll start here. This is our project on-"

"Don't sound so uptight," he cuts in, standing and walking around you in a circle. "And sit up straight. You want to engage your audience, not close them out."

You begrudgingly does as he says. You know he's right, but he doesn't have to be so smug about it...

"Better?"

"Shoulders back," he says, grabbing your shoulders and straightening them out, adjusting you like a doll.

Once he's satisfied, Vil comes around in front of you again and sighs. "Well, it's a start. Go on, from the beginning,"

"Okay. This is our project-"

"You're not going to introduce yourself?"

You glare, and he chuckles, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of you. "My apologies. I didn't realize this was an avant-garde presentation. Go on,"

Another sigh. "Fine. I'll be presenting, while Ace and Deuce cover the demonstration portion of the project. We-"

"More confidence," he hums, putting a hand under your chin and tilting your head up. "Remember to engage. Speak to your audience directly."

You mean to scold him for distracting you, but can only manage a mumble. He's putting a spotlight on you, and you hate it.

Maintaining eye contact is impossible. The amused expression on his face as you try to concentrate is starting to make you feel even more anxious than before.

"...We tested a few... different..." you trail off, nervously biting the corner of your lip. "Methods... and..."

He clicks his tongue in disapproval, his thumb moving up from your chin to your lower lip, running across it.

"Don't bite your lip," he chides. "I want to do that."

A shock of adrenaline makes you go numb, your notes spilling out of your hands and all over the bedroom floor.

Vil sighs, as if exasperated, and takes a step back to survey the sorry sight. "Tsk. You really are hopeless. How can you expect to present if you can't handle a little distraction?"

After a moment of watching you scramble to collect the papers, he leans down to help, his smirking face dangerously close to yours.

"No matter. We have plenty of time to practice,"

[ph1l5eyelash]

i think there was something weird about Gangle’s mask in episode 4 and people are not talking about it enough.

im just kinda throwing out ideas here, I have no concrete theory, just things I noticed and thought were interesting.

AND IF YOU HAVE OTHER THEORIES REGARDING ANY OF THIS, TELL ME PLEASE IM SO CURIOUS

OKAY SO, first of all, I think we can all agree Gangle was acting weird in this episode— like, uncharacteristically weird. that could’ve easily (and obviously at least partially) been the fact that she was literally at her breaking point, on the verge of abstraction, but between the creepy vision Ragatha saw and the weird analog horror training video, I feel like it has to be more than that.

Talking about the vision Ragatha saw… what the fuck was that guys and why is nobody talking about it????? gooseworx did say “i just thought it would be funni.” when asked about it, but she has also said she often misleads us with her answers to the point that its “borderline gaslighting”. this is clearly an example of that, something so incredibly ominous and seemingly unrelated to the rest of the episode would not just be thrown in for no reason… it has to mean something. not to mention the creepy face when she turned around looks weirdly— intentionally— similar to Pomni’s face while she was possessed in episode 3.

I have a theory that whatever was possessing Pomni had something to do with Gangle’s mask in episode 4.

Speaking of this part of episode 3, I don’t think Pomni’s possession was apart of the adventure, or at least, not how it was intended to go. Whatever was possessing Pomni was hurting her in a way we have not seen in other adventures— this was not unintentional trauma like her and Gummigoo glitching beneath the map in episode 2, that was obviously not supposed to happen. This was intentional. As Jax said, Caine would not do something malicious to the humans, it’s not in his nature (which he said in a “i know that for a fact” sorta way, which is a whole other conversation). Not to mention, he said this DIRECTLY after Ragatha’s vision of Gangle looking eerily similar to whatever was possessing Pomni. So what was that?

And not only did it hurt Pomni— “how’s your wife, Kinger”??? are you kidding??? and this was not said nicely, it was clearly mocking him. how could mocking someone’s dead (or abstracted i guess) wife be any LESS intentionally malicious????

also, Caine is forgetful. This is shown by him forgetting they have a suggestion box, and more interestingly, through Zooble’s therapy session showing that Caine forgets their trauma. With such a large emphasis on Caine forgetting Zooble’s trauma, it would not be completely unreasonable to assume that he forgets the others’ trauma as well. Kinger’s wife abstracting, for example.

So with this moment being outright malicious towards both Kinger and Pomni, and with Caine’s forgetfulness being focused on in the same episode, I feel strongly that this was not Caine’s doing. Or at the very least, “how’s your wife, Kinger” was NOT Caine’s doing.

That raises the question, if Caine didnt do this, what did? And how does it know about Kinger’s wife abstracting— how would an NPC in an adventure know anything about the characters outside of the adventure?

I don’t have an answer to that question, but I have a looser theory that could possibly be related??? this one might be a little far fetched, but hear me out:

During Gangle’s weird (WEIRD) analog horror training video, Jax asks “when did you make this?” Sure, this could be meant to be a funny line that doesn’t mean anything… but he has a good point. When DID she make that? And why does it get so meta and scary? Malicious… one could say— I mean, Jax was terrified.

In the video, she was clearly projecting her failed dream of being a manga inspired comic artist, but if whatever was possessing Pomni knew about Kinger’s trauma, and with the theory that it has something to do with Gangle’s mask, I don’t think its impossible that it could know about Gangle’s trauma as well.

Assuming that whatever was possessing Pomni is actually intentionally connected to Gangle or her new mask, maybe that’s what made the video, not actually Gangle.

That would answer Jax’s question of when she made it— she didn’t.

That would explain Ragatha’s weird vision.

While the video doesn’t have any direct ties to the possession or the face, it definitely has pretty significant indication that she’s not herself— whether thats literally or figuratively. and idk man it was creepy and weird. as I said, im not set on this theory at all, i dont have any concrete idea what was going on here, but i know it has to be something.

this scene and Pomni’s possession were the only moments in the show that felt like the characters were being intentionally harmed— the only instances where they were intentionally made to feel real fear. The characters know that they will not actually be hurt during the adventures, they know that Caine wouldn’t put them in that situation. Sure, Pomni got jumpscared and her eyes popped out, they were panicked when trying to escape the angel head, they were panicked during the whole truck-chase scene in episode 2, but they knew it was all just apart of the adventure and they were gonna be fine in the end.

This fear was different. This was real fear— and they were intentionally made to feel that way. These instances were the only time the characters were genuinely afraid that they were in real danger (aside from the abstraction and backrooms-void situations in episode 1, but obviously those were not intentional).

I think whatever this is is trying to intentionally harm the members of the circus.

side note:

Zooble just found a mask that specifically looks like its for Gangle in their box of parts? why??? obviously it was for Gangle, so why was it in Zooble’s box of extra parts? did Caine put it in there? I guess that would make sense cuz Caine gave them the parts, but again, why give them a mask obviously for Gangle?

Which could mean nothing…? But it is weird that Zooble just randomly happened to stumble across a comedy mask… or maybe i’m just looking too deep into that.

Im gonna definitely post more about whats going on with jax in this episode (“nobody is seeing this, right”, “caine wouldnt do anything malicious its not in his nature”) because that feels important, but thats a theory for another day. this episode had so so much good information and my theory brain is absolutely spinning.

anyways yeah, i dont know. I feel pretty strongly that Ragatha’s vision and Pomni’s possesion are connected and that whatever that face is is important, but again, these are just ideas and the second theory is kinda just spitballing. i dont know if any of this makes sense. either way, all the theories make my brain happy and gooseworx’s storytelling is so amazing to me, whether any of this is right or if im completely missing the mark, its so interesting and i cannot wait to find out what the fuck is actually going on in this show. gooseworx, you talented storytelling genuis you, mwah!

if you have any theories on any of this, please share!! i would love to hear your ideas.