#I think this one is going to be longer than restoration though…

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

Rabbit Restoration Project: |12|

The heartbeat didn't fade. It only remained, quickening at such a rate, that the end result certainly wouldn't be normal for practically anyone.

You found one of your hands slowly raising--tempted to force it back down, as you were already completely certain of something. That's not my heart. If it was...

Truthfully, as you thought about it, there had only been one instance that you could ever recall, where your heart had beaten so fast and loud--but it still couldn't compare to this one.

It had been years ago--but with enough time to think about it all over again, you could manage to remember the distressing event that had led up to it.

With a hand in the right position, you could feel your heartbeat--and like you had already been assuming, it was steady and calm--as much as it could be since retrieving the rabbit.

Your hand collapsed into your lap, and chewing on the inside of your mouth, the attention was brought back onto the sleeping rabbit in the passenger seat.

Yesterday, there had certainly been a lot going on...

Admittedly, when you'd bumped straight into the rabbit after he'd wandered off, there had been a brief moment where you thought you had heard a racing heartbeat.

When you'd kicked Nora out and had discovered Springtrap--having just broken himself out, it had been heard, too--faster and longer than the previous time.

You were dealing with a roaming animatronic rabbit, who had seemed pleased with the fact that you acted frightened... you had assumed that the heartbeat was yours.

After all, who else would it have belonged to? Within the home, there had only been three of you within the walls--and Nora had seemed calm enough throughout the little visit.

Besides, she wasn't even with me when I ran into him. You unbuckled the seat belt, feeling tempted to lean over, and listen to the beat a little more closely.

The moment that you had retrieved the rabbit, there had been a ton that you were already crossing off--why would an animatronic ever need to breath? Why would one have a heartbeat? None were usually sentient.

Now, though...

It had finally come to a stop--picking a specific beat and rolling with it--but it was still too fast for your liking. You were certain that, if you were to step out of the car, and close the door, it would still be heard.

The once soft breathing coming from Springtrap began to grow loud and frantic--for a few moments, it would stop altogether, only to quickly return.

His hand twitched once--and then twice, and then a third time--almost in a sort of scratching motion, before falling still at his side once more.

As quickly as you could, you turned the car and parked it in the first spot that had been noticeable. It wasn't exactly the best because of that, but it would do.

What... what's going on with him? He shouldn't even have to breath. He shouldn't even have something like a heartbeat. You inched closer to where Springtrap sat, his hand beginning to twitch again.

Like before, it came off as some sort of scratching movement--like a cat trying to get through a door, only to leave marks--and the action, just like the beating and breathing, had quickened.

But he is. All of this is happening. Your eyes narrowed. He's not awake, he still seems to be sleeping, at least. Is it just a really, really horrible nightmare?

Your hand raised and moved towards Springtrap, but hesitated. Whatever's happening... whether it's a nightmare, or he's panicking, I don't think that he'd appreciate that.

Glancing down for a moment, you could spot his hand twitching again--seemingly growing more desperate each time. Just find something else to do...

Your own hand dropping down to the side, you cleared your throat a little bit. Thoughts drifted around urgently, trying to select the right words that could be said.

"Hey... hey, Springtrap?" You tried to keep your voice as gentle as you could possibly make it--there had never been much of any moments where you needed to--and a little quiet, too.

Not so quiet as for it to drop into the faintest whisper, as if you were trying to tell an important secret, or were hiding from someone--but kind of after lowering your voice enough after getting in trouble.

Springtrap's ears seemed to twitch--being followed by a low, mechanical whirring noise--but you couldn't be certain if that was a response to your voice, or to something else.

Even while you had unbuckled, leaning closer to the rabbit, it wasn't like there was some free space that allowed you to move further. Two old, empty water bottles were placed in the cupholders of it.

Your stomach was pressed against the side of it the longer it was leaned over, and for a brief moment, you considered trying to awkwardly pull yourself over it.

Although, managing to pass it--which wouldn't be the hardest thing--that would mean that you'd find yourself in Springtrap's seat--not just on that, but on the rabbit's lap.

You didn't exactly want to do that. If that would be enough to wake him, how would he react? I doubt he'd like it.

"Springtrap, I don't... I don't know what exactly is going on," A quiet groan escaped from yourself. Someone else would be better. "But it's okay. It's alright."

Your hand began to hover again. If just talking to him didn't work out, you were starting to consider other options. I'll apologize. Maybe he'd understand, at least.

"It's just a dream that you're having, it's alright. I just..." Beginning to trail off, your hand inched closer again--close enough to actually feel some of the fake fur, as though you were briefly brushing past him.

There were things that he's seemed upset about. The instances--and unanswered questions--made themselves known again. Could it be about something like that?

You felt your shoulders shrug. But maybe it's just about... really anything else. I don't know what this rabbit usually thinks about.

Your throat cleared. "It's alright. Somebody's here with you. When you wake-"

A strangled gasp filled the air, and the rabbit sat up right--the gray eyes opening back up completely, and that frequent glow returning to both of them.

Oh, thank God. A quiet sigh spilled out. I don't think I was really helping out, but I... tried? Did it just end by itself, and he woke up? Did he even hear me?

It took you a second or two to realize, but while the heartbeat seemed to have gone down--both in volume, and in speed... it still wasn't exactly normal.

Springtrap's arm shot to the side, and you watched with widened eyes as he managed to get the door open--although there was that familiar scratching movement--and the rabbit collapsed.

You tried to grab at the rabbit as he practically tumbled out of the car, having started to lean against the door itself the longer he slept, but you failed to do so.

There was the sensation of the fake fur, but nothing to successfully grab onto, as Springtrap had fallen rather fast. "Hey!"

I don't even think I could keep him in here. You opened up the door on your side. If I actually grabbed him, I think I'd fall out, too.

Hurrying out once the door was opened, and nearly stumbling in the process, you went around the side, as to meet with the collapsed Springtrap.

Even before you turned, and he came into view, the frantic breathing and beating could still be heard, and it was enough to let you know that, in a panic, he hadn't ran.

Springtrap was on his hand and knees, not too far from the opened door, his hand grasping at the ground, managing to collect a few, tiny pebbles.

"Hey, hey..." Once close enough to the rabbit, you dropped down onto your knees, too--a hand reaching out yet again, and finally being completely placed against his shoulder.

Come on, think! What are you supposed to do? A little uncertain, your hand drifted away from his shoulder, and onto the rabbit's back--which you then began to slowly rub.

Tiny, whispered apologies spilled out from you, hoping that, in the moment, Springtrap wouldn't mind the action, and wouldn't grow upset with you in response.

I'm not good with this. I'm not good with this. You shook your head. "It's... It's alright. I don't know how any of this is possible, but you're okay. You're fine."

I could ask him about the things I've heard... but not right now. Not when he's like this. Your head shook once more at the thought. Would he tell me? Or would he not even know the answer?

I still plan to work on him, as long he doesn't up and leave. Maybe I'd find something. There was a quiet hum. But... what would that 'something' even be?

Mechanical whirring brought you out of the thoughts, and when your eyes were focusing again, Springtrap was no longer on his knees--instead, he was raising back up, albeit slowly.

Hand dropping down to the side, you watched him closely, while beginning to stand back up, too--dusting your jeans off slightly as you noticed some dirt and pebbles.

"Are you... are you alright?"

The heartbeat seemed to have changed again--as did its volume. It was slow, and you couldn't quite hear it very well now--not unless you were silent and listened well.

A quiet groan emitted from the rabbit, followed by a huff. Springtrap was still breathing, but it was neither incredibly raspy, frantic, or soft. He just... was.

"I am." Springtrap grumbled, giving a quick nod.

"What happened? What exactly was that? A nightmare, or...?"

At first, Springtrap didn't answer--just staring at you--or perhaps somewhere behind--and you just shrugged to yourself. I don't think I'd want to talk about it.

Just as you started to try and pull some other words out, and began gesturing towards the opened door, Springtrap let out a rather weak hum.

"Memories..." Springtrap admitted, the word so quiet, that if you were just an inch further away, that you doubted that it would have successfully been heard.

For just a second, you waited to see if Springtrap would add anything, but he didn't. Instead, the rabbit just shut his eyes, and shook his head.

"Are... will you be alright?"

At the question, Springtrap's response was to give a brief, raspy chuckle, before moving himself a little closer to you and the car's passenger door.

You decided not to question that.

His eyes flickered between the ground, the car, and then back you. The rabbit slumped, ever so slightly, but it didn't seem as if he were about to collapse again.

"Thank you." The newest words to exit from the rabbit caused your eyes to widen again.

"Dude, I actually helped?!" It came off as louder than you intended, as you held your hands out briefly to gesture towards the tall rabbit, who blinked.

A short snort came from the rabbit.

Springtrap took a few, slow steps closer to the car, and you just watched, wanting to see if anything else would happen or not.

"Let's go home."

'Home'? You froze for a split second as you began walking around the car to return to the driver's side. I guess he is staying long enough for me to work on him. A grin began to spread.

Hopping into the seat, and shutting the door, you glanced back at Springtrap, who was leaning against the window. I guess I have a giant rabbit for a roommate for a while.

Though, as you turned away from Springtrap, and began to move the car, a frown began to slip into place, instead. I still don't understand any of the stuff that he's capable of doing.

Your grip on the wheel tightened. I'll figure it out soon enough, one way or another.

@mcfries123 @ravenmccookies @spaciebabie

[chaosduckies]

*rises from the dead*

Hehehe- The size shifter story is done >:3

[caotictimmy]

Hey!!! Can you do Curly x (gn, but it's okay if you don't! Whatever you prefer writing) reader headcanons? Post or pre crash idk it's up to you! Even if you want to write a one-shot I don't mind really whatever you feel like writing it's up to you I JUST NEED CURLY CONTENT JDJDJDJJWJSBSB

Btw I hope you have a wonderful day!!!

Thank you!!! I hope your having a good day to! I’m gonna be doing pre crash Curly. I’ll probably be doing the same format I did with Daisuke. Crushing - confessing. Dating than NSFW. It will prob be more Gn but I’ll put (AFAB) when in gonna talk about more AFAB stuff. (Btw this is gonna be like what a regular trip would be for them.)

Crushing - Confession

- Kind of like love at first sight. But it’s a love at first true conversations. Lemme explain

- Yes you’ve had conversations with Curly before. But not on a personal level. Your guys first conversation was prob Like you guys were either both up going to get coffee at a late hour. So when you both see each other where the coffee machine is. You guys make small talk. Before the conversation starts get more real. Not just forced talking. The conversation flows freely. And you guys find out you have a lot more in common.

- After that moment he realizes how much you guys click together. You interest him. So except for him to come up and talk to you a lot more. He wants to get to know you better! (Totally not to remember everything you like and love to woe you)

- He’s another person who’s gonna be a bit obvious. Not as much as Daisuke though. But he’s still gonna be obvious.

- Curly definitely treats you better. Not like he doesn’t treat his crew good (jimmy doesn’t exist here.). But it’s more like picking favorites. Opening doors for you, before letting it slam shut even though Swansea was just about to walk through the door. (Curly got an ear full after that happened.).

- But the funny thing is that no one really notices that you’re getting treated better. Except for Daisuke funny enough… For another example imagine they have his surprise birthday party! He’s cutting the cake and he gives you a noticeable bigger piece of cake. Giving Daisuke a smaller piece. And let me tell you. This man was outraged. HE ASKED FOR THE BIGGEST PIECE AND CURLY GIVES HIM A SCHOOL PARTY SIZED PIECE?

- So of course he had to speak up. “Listen Curly, since I’m such a righteous man, I’ve let the favoritism towards them slide. BUT I CLEARLY ASKED FOR THE BIGGER PIECE! AND YOU GIVE THEM THE BIGGEST PIECE. I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS TREATMENT ANY LONGER!”

- To say everyone was stunned is an understatement. It was quiet for a good couples of minutes. Just standing still like the moment was paused. You then silently switched plates with Daisuke. Taking the smaller piece. He then found balanced was restored!

- “never mind Curly now I get why you favorite them.” He said looking over to you before raising his hand. “High five dude!” He said, smilingly giddily. (I love daisuke he’s so silly!)

- To say Curly was embarrassed would be an understatement. After that moment Curly knew he had to confess to you to soon. So he called you down to the cock pit. When you got there he lead you to sit in one of the chairs. Crouching before you. Holding your hands on his as he stares up at you. “You’ve made me feel emotions I’ve never truly felt before, god you mean so much to me. Will you be my partner.”, He asked.

- When you say yes he cups yours face with his hands. Leaning upwards to bring you in a passionate kiss.

Dating

- Like I said in that brief moment In Daisuke’s headcanons. This man is a die hard romantic to his core. So if you don’t mind. Curly would love to cuddle with you in bed, while watching sappy love movies. Just holding each other. God he loves you sm I’m gonna tweak up in this bitch.

- I think the affection he likes to receive is quality times and words of affirmation . And I think the affection he gives is acts of service and physical affection. Now let me cook. Guys LET.ME.COOK

-(receiving) Curly loves spending time with you. He tried to find as much time to fit you into his busy schedule. So when he finally gets to spend time with you. Omg he’s love sick!!!!!! He really doesn’t care what you guys are doing while being together. Whether that be doing or watching something together. Or maybe doing your own stuff. Your presence is so comforting. You calm him down sm.

-(receiving) He receives compliments a bit. But when you do it. It’s different. It makes his heart flutter, makes him feel like he has butterflies in his stomach all over again! He just feels so special when you compliment him!!!! Please compliment how good of a captain he is. Yes he gets praised for being a good captain. It just feels so genuine from you.

-(giving) He doesn’t care how you guys spend your quality time together. Whether that be doing or watching something together. Or just doing your guys own thing. He just loves being in your presence. You being there just makes him feel calmer, he knows he doesn’t have to keep this big stoic act in-front of you. He doesn’t mind if theirs silence or background noise. As long as he got to spend time with you.

-(giving) Curly isn’t gonna be doing big/a lot of physical affection all the time. Even though he does give you a lot of physically affection. I know I sound dumb right now stay with me. He’s more soft with his affection. Gently rubbing his thumb on your hand. Drawing shapes on your back while cuddling. Rubbing your leg when you sit next to him on the couch. Kissing a bruise you got from falling(those floors look slippery asf PROVE ME WRONG). He’s very romantic and soft with you and Curly’s just such a sweetie.

- A SUCKER for pda. Like he loves it so much. He feels bad if he has to “hide” how much he loves you away from the world! He feels so special knowing you wanted him, HIM! He’s just so sickly in love with you. He wants to show you off. Not in a trophy wife way but in a. Yeah see the drop dead gorgeous person that picked ME, yea that’s right, be jealous.

- He loves if you draw in him! From his hands to his arms. I think he finds it very relaxing and therapeutic. As long as you don’t draw anything inappropriate, he won’t care what you draw. He WILL proudly show off the drawings on his hands and arms. Like FLEX his arms. He loves them sm. Every time you draw on him, he takes a picture and keeps it in a folder on his phone.

- Loves anything you make him. Bracelets? Wears them all the time he might acually get a permanent imprint. Clothe? Try’s to find any opportunity to wear them. Art? Hung proudly in his bedroom. He appreciates anything you do for him. No matter what form affection it is.

- This man loves slinging his arm/arms around you. Arms around your waist. Arm around your shoulder. Hand on your hip. Idk why I think he likes it. But I have that spicy sense.

NSFW - DO NOT READ IF YOUR A MINOR OR UNCOMFORTABLE WITH NSFW (AFAB)

- Another man who would be into public/semi public sex. Y’all have DEFINITELY done it in the cockpit. Like almost everywhere. Curly and you have probably done it on the table too(you guys cleaned it afterwards don’t worry). But I think he just loves the thrill of it. You guys have almost been caught but thankfully Curly knows how to be quiet! (No shade to you Daisuke we love you)

- This man loves keeping his hands on you. Like a FIRMM grip on your hips as he’s hitting it. Gripping yours thighs. He just likes sinking his fingers in your soft flesh. Somehow just kinda grounds him in the moment. He also just loves feeling up your body.🫢

- Speaking of feeling you up. Dry humper. DRY HUMPER. I feel like this man is a tease. So this man will pin you against a wall, and just grind on you. Teasing you until you can’t take it anymore! He loves seeing a pout on your face before he gives you what you want.

- Like before, curly is a tease. He will push all your buttons. Just get you right there! Then stops. He wants to make sure when you climax. It’s better than the last time you guys had sex. It’s a GOAL for him to make you feel even better than the last time you guys slept together.

- Loves overstimulating you. Unlike Daisuke who accidentally overstimulates you. It’s Curly’s mission to get you brain dead by the end. He knows he’s making you feel good. This man won’t over do it though. Your comfort and safety is his priority! So he’ll always make sure you’re comfortable.

- Call him captain!!!!! God Curly gets so riled up when you call him captain. Teasingly calling him captain earns you a night of either overstimulation or edging. So I hope you are aloud to take sick leave, cause wooo…. You will be sore my friend

- (AFAB) Sit on his face.. OH GOOD GOLLY SIT ON HIS FACE. I imagine he’s buff. Like have you SEEN that fanart. So he can definitely take a lot of weight!( shout out my cubby AFABs i really wanna make a chubby reader FIC but idk..) BUT PLEASS, he’ll beg on his hands and knees. Like why are you keeping that tantalizing gift away from him???

- Yes I’ve been saying he can be a freak.(guys I promise I’m trying to be original 😭🙏) But I definitely think he’s More into romantic, soft sex. He likes to take his time. Kissing up and down your body. He wants to make sure you feel loved, and that he’s not just using you for your body. He is a sucker for you.

- He loves watching your face when he’s pleasuring you. No matter what he’s doing or where. He wants to know your getting pleased! That’s how he figured out what you liked and didn’t like fast. He kept his eyes trained on your face. He truly is a giver!

Authors note: GUYS I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. IVE BEEN HAVIBD SIRE AFFECTS FROM MY PLAN B. Like dude I’ve been bed ridden for the past two days. But I’m feeling better and it’s the weekend. So more requests are on the way!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Zuck’s gravity-defying metaverse money-pit

Tomorrow (Oct 31) at 10hPT, the Internet Archive is livestreaming my presentation on my recent book, The Internet Con.

Think of everything that makes you miserable as being caught between two opposing, irresistible, irrefutable truths:

"Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops" (Stein's Law)

"Markets can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent" (Keynes)

Both of these are true, even though they seemingly contradict one another, and no one embodies that contradiction more perfectly than Mark Zuckerberg.

Take the metaverse.

Zuck's "pivot" to a virtual world he ripped off from a quarter-century old cyberpunk novel (reminder: cyberpunk is a warning, not a suggestion) was born of desperation.

Zuck fancies himself an avatar of the Emperor Augustus (that's why he has that haircut) (no, really). The emperors of antiquity are infamous for getting all weepy when they run out of lands to conquer.

But the lachrymosity of emperors has little causal relationship to the anxieties of tech monopolists! Alexander weeps because he just loves a good conquest and when he finishes conquering the world, he's terminally bored. That's not Zuck's problem at all. When Zuck attains monopoly status, his company develops an autoimmune disorder, as his vicious princelings run out of enemies to destroy and begin to knife one another.

Any monopoly faces these destructive microincentives, but tech is exceptional here because tech has the realtime flexibility and speed that brick-and-mortar businesses can never match:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

Sociopaths with tech monopolies are worse for the same reason that road-rage would be worse in a flying car: adding new capacity to indiscriminate self-destructive urges turns ordinary car crashes into low-level airburst warfare:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

The flexibility of digital gives tech platforms so much latitude to break things in tiny increments. A tech platform is like a Jenga tower composed of infinitely divisible blocks. The Jenga players are the product managers and executives who have run out of the ability to grow by attracting new business thanks to their monopoly dominance. Now they compete with one another to increase the yield from their respective divisions by visiting pain upon the business customers and end users their platform connects. By tiny increments, they increase the product's cost, lower its reliability, and strip it of its utility and then charge rent to restore its functionality:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/24/cursed-bigness/#incentives-matter

This is the terminal stage of enshittification, the unstoppable autocannibalism of platforms as they seek to harvest all the value created by business customers and end users, leaving the absolute minimum of residual value needed to keep both stuck to the platform. This is a brittle equilibrium, because the difference between "I hate this service but I just can't stop using it," and "Get me the fuck out of here" is razor-thin.

All it takes is one tiny push – a whistleblower, a livestreamed mass-shooting, a Cambridge Analytica – and people bolt for the doors. This triggers the final stage: the "pivot," which is a tech euphemism for "panic."

For Zuck, the pivot got real after a disappointing earnings call triggered a mass sell-off of Facebook stock, history's worst one-day value incineration, which lopped a quarter of a trillion dollars off the company's market cap:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2022-12-19/dramatic-stock-moves-of-2022-led-by-meta-dive-nordic-flash-crash

This was when the metaverse became the company's top priority.

Now, in my theory of enshittification, the step that follows the pivot is death: "Finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die":

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

Many people have asked me about the conspicuous non-death of Facebook! That's where I have to fall back on Stein's Law: "Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops." Facebook can't continue to annihilate value, alienate its workers, harm the public, hemorrhage money in support of a mediocrity's cherished folly forever. Can it?

Admittedly, it sure seems like it can. Facebook's metaverse pivot has thus far cost the company $46,500,000,000. That is: $46.5 billion. That's even more money than Uber torched, seeking to maintain the illusion that they will be able to create monopolies on both transport and the labor market for driving and recoup the billions the Saudi royal family let them use for the con:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/11/bezzlers-gonna-bezzle/#gryft

Don't worry: the Saudi royals are fine! They cashed out at the IPO, collecting a tidy profit at the expense of retail investors who assumed that a pile of shit as big as Uber must have a pony under it, somewhere:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/19/fake-it-till-you-make-it/#millennial-lifestyle-subsidy

Uber has doubled the cost of rides and halved drivers' wages, using illegal gimmicks like "algorithmic wage discrimination" to squeeze a little more juice out of the nearly exhausted husks of its workforce:

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

But Stein's Law hasn't been repealed. Drivers can't drive for sub-subsistence wages. Do that long enough and they'll literally starve: that's what "subsistence" means. We lost a decade of transit investment thanks to the Uber con, at the same time as traditional taxi drivers were forced out of the industry. Uber can't be profitable and still pay a living wage, and the fantasy of self-driving cars as a means of zeroing out the wage-bill altogether remains stubbornly, lethally unworkable:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Which means we're at the point where you can get off a commuter train at a main station and find yourself stranded: no taxis at the taxi-queue, no busses due for an hour, and no Uber cars available unless you're willing to pay $95 for a ten-minute ride in a luxury SUV (why yes, this did happen to me recently, thanks for asking).

As more and more of us are exposed to these micro-crises, the political will to do something will increase. This can't go on forever. "Don't use commuter rail" isn't a viable option. "Walk three miles each way to the commuter rail station" isn't viable either. Neither is "Pay $95 for an Uber to get to the station." Something's gotta give…eventually.

"Eventually" is the key word here. Remember the corollary of Stein's Law: Keynes's maxim that "markets can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent." Sure, anything that can't go on forever eventually stops, but that is no guarantee of a soft landing. You can't smoke two packs a day forever – but in the absence of smoking cessation, the eventual terminus of that habit is stage-four lung cancer. Keep hammering butts into your face and your last smoke will come out a crematorium chimney.

Zuckerberg hasn't merely blown a whole-ass Twitter on the metaverse with nothing to show for it – he's gotten richer while doing it! In the past year, his net worth increased by 130%, to $59 billion, thanks to an increase in Facebook's share-price, driven by investors who stubbornly remain irrational, keeping the Boy Emperor solvent long past any reasonable assessment of his performance.

What are these investors betting on? One possibility is that the rise and rise of Facebook's share-price represents a bet on technofeudalism. Since the Communist Manifesto, Marxists have been predicting the end of capitalism. That end seems to have come, but what followed capitalism wasn't socialism, it was the return of feudalism, an economic system where elites derive their wealth from rents, not profits:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

Profit is the income you get from investing in capital – machinery, systems, plant – and then harvesting the surplus value created by workers who mobilize this capital. Capitalism produces massive returns for its winners – in the Manifesto's first chapter, Marx and Engels just geek out about how productive and dynamic this system is.

But capitalism is also a Red Queen's Race, where the winners have to run faster and faster to stay in the same place. Capitalism drives competition, as other would-be winners pile into the sector, replicating the systems that the current winners are using and then improving on them. This is why the prophets of capitalist end-times like the FBI informant Peter Thiel say that "competition is for losers."

Capitalism's "profits" stand in contrast to the feudalist's "rents." Rents are income you get from owning something that other people need to produce things. The capitalist owns the coffee-shop, but the feudalist owns the building. When a rival capitalist opens a superior coffee-shop and drives the old shop out of business, the capitalist loses, but the rentier wins. Now they can rent out an empty storefront in the neighborhood everyone's coming to because of that hot new cafe.

Feudal and manorial lords also made their fortunes by extracting surplus value from workers, but these rentiers don't care about owning the means of production. The peasant in the field pays for their own agricultural equipment and livestock – control over the means of production is necessary for worker liberation, but it's not sufficient. The worker's co-op that owns its factory can still find the value it produces bled off by the landlord who owns the land the factory sits on.

The jury's still out on whether American workers really see themselves as "temporarily embarrassed millionaires," but America's capitalists have a palpable, undeniable loathing for capitalism. The dream of an American "entrepreneur" is *PassiveIncome: money you get from owning something capitalists and/or workers use to create value. Digital technology creates exciting new possibilities for rent-extraction: a taxi-operator had to buy and maintain a car that someone else drove. Uber can offload this hassle onto its drivers and rent out access to the chokepoint it created between drivers and riders, charging all the traffic can bear. This is feudalism in the cloud – or as Yannis Varoufakis calls it, cloudalism.

In Varoufakis's Technofeudalism, he describes Amazon as a feudal venture. From a distance, Amazon seems like a bustling marketplace of manic capitalism, with sellers avidly competing to offer more variety and lower costs in a million independently operated storefronts. But closer inspection reveals that Amazon is a planned economy, not a market.

Every one of those storefronts pays rent to the same landlord – Amazon – which determines which goods can be offered for sale. Amazon sets pricing for those goods, and extracts 45-51% of every dollar those sellers make. Amazon even controls which goods are shelved at eye-height when you enter the store, and which ones are banished to a dusty storeroom in a distant sub-basement you'll never find:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/14/flywheel-shyster-and-flywheel/#unfulfilled-by-amazon

Zuck's metaverse is pure-play technofeudalism, Amazon taken to the logical extreme. It's easy to get distracted by the part of Zuck's vision that will convert us all into legless, sexless, heavily surveilled low-resolution cartoon characters. But the real action isn't this digitization of our fleshy wants and needs. Zuck didn't spend $46.5B to torment us.

The cruelty isn't the point of the metaverse.

The point of the metaverse is to rent us out to capitalists.

Zuck doesn't know why we would use the metaverse, but he believes that if he can convince capitalists that we all want to live there, that they'll invest the capital to figure out how to serve us there, and then he can extract rent from those capitalists and start earning "passive income." It's an Uber for Cyberpunk Dystopias play.

Zuck's done this before. Remember the "pivot to video?" Zuckerberg wanted to compete with Youtube, but he didn't want to invest in paying for video production. Videos are really expensive to produce and the median video gets zero views. So Zuck used his captive audience to trick publishers into financing his move into video. He fraudulently told publishers that videos were blowing up on Facebook, outperforming boring old text by vast margins.

Publishers borrowed billions and raised billions more in the capital markets, financing the total conversion of newsrooms from text to video and precipitating a mass extinction event for print journalists. Zuck kept the con alive by giving away (fewer) billions to some of those publishers, falsely claiming that their videos were generating fortunes in advertising revenue. These lucky, credulous publishers became judas goats for their industry, luring others into the con, the same way that the "lucky" guy a carny lets win a giant teddy-bear at the start of the day lures others into putting down $5 to see if they can sink three balls in a rigged peach-basket.

But when we stubbornly refused to watch videos on Facebook, Zuck stopped spreading around these convincer payouts, and precipitated a second mass-extinction event in news media, as the new generation of video journalists joined their predecessors in Facebook-driven unemployment. Given this history, it's surreal to see publishers continue to insist that Facebook is stealing their content, when it is so clearly stealing their money:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/saving-news-big-tech

Metaverse is the new Pivot to Video. Zuckerberg is building a new world, which he will own, and he wants rent it to capitalists, who will compete with one another in just the way that Amazon's sellers compete. No matter who wins that competition, Zuckerberg will win. The prize for winning will be a rent increase, as Zuckerberg leverages the fact that your "successful" business relies on Facebook's metaverse to drain off all the value your workers have produced:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/18/metaverse-means-pivot-to-video/

This can't last forever, but how long until Zuck's reality distortion field runs out of battery? That's the $46.5B question.

The market can certainly remain irrational for a hell of a long time. But the market isn't the only force that regulates corporate outcomes. Regulators also regulate. Europe's GDPR is now seven years old, and it plainly outlaws Facebook's surveillance.

For nearly a decade, Facebook has pretended that this wasn't true, and they got away with it. Mostly, that's thanks to the fact that Ireland is a corporate crime-haven with a worse-than-useless Data Protection Commission:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

But anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. Facebook has finally been dragged into EU federal jurisdiction, where it will face exterminatory fines if it continues to spy on Europeans:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/07/luck-of-the-irish/#schrems-revenge

In response, Facebook has rolled out a subscription version of its main service and its anticompetitive acquisition, Instagram:

https://about.fb.com/news/2023/10/facebook-and-instagram-to-offer-subscription-for-no-ads-in-europe/

For €10/month, Facebook will give you an ad-free experience across its service offerings (it's €13/month if you pay through an app, as Facebook recoups the 30% #AdTax rents that the feudal Google/Apple mobile duopoly extracts).

But this doesn't come close to satisfying Facebook's legal obligations under the GDPR. The GDPR doesn't ban ads, it bans spying. Facebook spies on every single internet user, all the time. The apps we use are built with "free" Facebook toolkits that extract rent from the capitalists who make them by harvesting our data as we use their apps. The web-pages we visit have embedded Facebook libraries that do the same thing for web publishers. Facebook buys our data from brokers. Facebook has so many ways of spying on us that there's almost certainly no way for Facebook to stop spying on you, without radically transforming it operation.

To comply with the GDPR, Facebook must halt surveillance advertising altogether. There's no way to square "spying on users" with "you can't surveil without explicit consent, and you can't punish people for refusing."

And of course, "not spying" isn't the same as "not advertising." "Contextual advertising" – where ads are placed based on the thing you're looking at, not who you are and what you do – is hundreds of years old. Context ads underperform surveillance ads by a slim margin – about 5% – but they're vastly more profitable for publishers. That's because surveillance ads are feudal, controlled by rentiers like Facebook, who own vast troves of the surveillance data needed to run these ads. Traditional ad intermediaries (agencies, brokers) took 10-15% out of the total advertising market. Ad-tech companies – the Google/Facebook duopoly – take 51% out of every ad dollar spent.

Eliminate surveillance ads and you torch their feudal estates. Facebook will always know more about someone reading a news article than the publisher – but the publisher will always know more about the article than Facebook does:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-ban-surveillance-advertising

There are rents under capitalism, just as there are profits under feudalism. The defining characteristic of a system is what happens when rents and profits come into conflict. If profits win – for example, if productive companies beat patent trolls, or if news publishers escape Facebook's rent-extraction – then the system is capitalist. If rents win – if investors continue to bet large on the metaverse as its losses pass $50 billion and head for the $100 billion mark – then the system is feudal.

Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. The question isn't whether the platforms will eventually become so enshittified that they die – the question is whether they will go down in an all-consuming fireball, or whether they'll go down in a controlled demolition that lets us evacuate the people they've trapped inside them first:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/09/let-the-platforms-burn/

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/30/markets-remaining-irrational/#steins-law

Image: Diego Delso (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Puente_de_las_cataratas_Victoria,_Zambia-Zimbabue,_2018-07-27,_DD_10.jpg

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

[crowroboros]

A Really Cool Detail About Might Crystals in The Legend of Zelda: Echoes of Wisdom

The first time I encountered a Might Crystal was maybe ~an hour into the game. I think I found it in a chest or something in Suthorn Forest and the first thing that I thought was "Huh...that looks kind of like bismuth." But, as I was so early on in the story that I didn't know much about what the Might Crystals were, I didn't think much more of it.

Well here I am with 46 additional hours worth of playtime in Echoes of Wisdom, and I'm here to say that there is a very cool reason that Might Crystals resemble bismuth crystals!

Before we get into bismuth, I need to talk about what is going on in Echoes of Wisdom. This WILL contain mid-to-late game spoilers, so do be warned.

Long before Creation there was nothing more than a void—a vast empty oblivion. Occasionally, bits of matter would spark to life in this nothingness. Nothing substantial, just small clumps of reality managing to form only for a moment. Only a moment, for anything that managed to flicker to life was devoured by the one who dwelt within this void:

Null.

Null is the main antagonist of Echoes of Wisdom. It is an ancient, incomprehensible lifeform that thrives in the absoluteness of zero. Nothingness personified.

Seeing the way these sparks of existence were so quickly extinguished, the three Golden Goddesses—Din, the Goddess of Power; Nayru, the Goddess of Wisdom; and Farore, the Goddess of Courage—descended from the heavens and forced Creation. Together, the three built the world itself and everything that makes up reality with Null imprisoned and contained at its center.

The Golden Goddess then departed back to the heavens, leaving behind the Triforce, the Secret Stones (though they aren't relevant for this, just thought I'd throw them in since we know they were created around this time), and the Tris. The Triforce and the Tris served as the glue keeping reality together; the Tris specifically being created to maintain the structure of the world, as even though Null was imprisoned that didn't stop it from consuming and returning the world to nothingness.

From the point of Creation onward, Null and the Tris were locked in a delicate balancing act of destruction and recreation. Null ate away at the world, creating rifts that tore through reality. And in turn, the Tris constantly patched up these rifts, quickly restoring what was lost.

This return to nothingness is a major part of the themes of Echoes of Wisdom, and why Might Crystals likely were inspired by bismuth.

Might Crystals—as well as the energy they produce—are some of the only things capable of withstanding Null and the void. When everything else is lost, these crystals remain. But what does this have to do with Bismuth?

Well visually both Might Crystals and Bismuth share the iconic stairstep spiral growth structure, but the main reason I believe bismuth to be the inspiration for the Might Crystals is the Bismuth-209 isotope.

Bismuth was previously thought to be the heaviest stable element, with only one stable isotope (Bismuth-209). I say previously because in 2003, a research team at the IAS (Institut d'Astrophysique Spatiale, a research institute in France) came to the realization that the Bismuth-209 isotope is actually undergoing alpha decay at an incredibly slow rate. How slow? Well it was determined that Bismuth-209 has a half life of approximately...

2.01x10^19 years. Or about 20,100,000,000,000,000,000 years (20 quintillion if you don't know/don't want to count out the zeroes).

For reference, that is billions of years longer than the current estimated age of the universe.

It is because of this inconceivably long half-life that it is said that bismuth will be among the last elements to disintegrate. And it is that bit of information that I believe inspired Might Crystals. If you need to come up with a crystal that can withstand nothingness itself and outlive matter in a void that consumes endlessly, what better choice to base it off of than the element that decays so slow that we used to think that it was stable?

I just thought that it was a cool detail. This is a bit different from my other Zelda posts—as this isn't me talking about the lore and story, but rather me talking about a possible irl inspiration for something in the series—but I thought this was really cool and I wanted to share my thoughts.

[heliads]

Can you do Peter Pan x reader OUAT? Peter goes to the modern world with Emma, Snow, David and them as they are looking for someone. He meets this girl and takes an interest to her. He’s never seen someone with facial piercings, and dyed hair before, they come to realize she is the girl they’ve been looking for.

'magic finds magic' - peter pan

masterlist

Peter Pan is leaving Neverland. Worse, he’s leaving Neverland alongside Snow, Emma, David, and Hook. In terms of traveling partners, this has got to be the lowest of the low. However, the sand in Peter’s immortal hourglass is running out, and his first attempt at prolonging his life with the heart of Henry Mills didn’t exactly go according to plan. It’s this or nothing, even though Peter is starting to wonder if it would be better to just die than put up with these people any longer.

Never in his life did Peter Pan think he’d be working with the good guys. But never in his life did Peter think he’d be dying, either. A few compromises will have to be made in the name of preserving Peter’s everlasting life, and if that means he has to put up with some princesses and pirates for a few days, so be it. In no time at all, his immortal life will be restored, and he can go back to Neverland and put all of this behind him. Hopefully.

Peter was supposed to die back on Neverland. He was running out of time, anyway. He had set up the perfect scheme:  kidnap Henry, disorient the boy’s rescuers on his island long enough to win the Heart of the Truest Believer, and cut the organ out of the boy’s chest if necessary. He’d almost gotten away with it, too, except he was foiled at the last minute. Heartbreaking. So unlike him.

For some reason, though, he hadn’t been left to die in the caverns of Skull Rock. Emma and the others had needed him, for some odd reason, and although none of them trust him in the slightest, they do trust Peter’s single-minded selfishness to keep himself alive. So they claim, at least, and so they had gotten a spell to give Peter one more week of life in exchange for help. If this plan works out, Peter will have a way to continue his immortal life without needing to murder Henry. If it doesn’t, or if he betrays them, he’ll die anyway.

He can feel it now, the pang of his close call with death. There’s a pain in his chest that wasn’t there before, a certain weakness in his lungs. Peter gets tired more easily. He feels– well, he feels like Henry and Emma. He feels mortal. Like he could die at any moment.

Peter has, obviously, thought about double-crossing them, maybe even triple-crossing them, but it’s no use. He feels shakily mortal right now, and Peter does not much enjoy the possibility of his own demise. This is the closest he’s ever come to being beaten, and Peter hates the feeling. He’ll have to play along for now, but after that, he will have his revenge.

First, though, Peter has to do what the others want. They’ve been careful to reveal as few details to him as possible, but the idea is solid. There’s a magical person somewhere in the modern world, in a city far from Storybrooke. This person is like the embodiment of a true love’s kiss spell, designed to renew hope in storybook characters through small acts of power that ultimately drive two needed people together. They’re like a guardian angel of those on the brink of destruction, which is exactly what Peter needs right now.

Peter has plenty of time to mull this over. They’ve forced him into a terrible, small room with awful carpets– an apartment, Emma called it– while they talk out what to do with both him and their missing spell-person. Peter is trying to focus, but he’s getting stared at by Henry Mills again, which is absolutely ruining his mood.

“What do you want?” Peter asks, glaring at the boy.

Henry just goggles back at him. “Don’t you feel bad for trying to kill me?”

Peter snorts. “Why would I do that?”

Henry shrugs. “You pretended you were my friend. I know you like the other Lost Boys on your island, I thought you would have felt bad for killing one of them. I guess not.”

“I don’t feel bad about killing someone so I would live,” Peter says, then wonders why he’s arguing with a child. “Go preach your morals to someone who wants to listen.”

“The others are busy,” Henry pouts.

Peter eyes him unhappily. “And what, I’m your best option for polite conversation? You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

Henry rolls his eyes. “I’d say you’re desperate. You’re the one who’s still talking to me.”

Peter can’t really argue with that, so he deftly changes the topic of conversation before Henry starts looking proud of himself again. “Tell me about our target again. You said you saw them before?”

“Only in a dream,” Henry admits, “but it was a clear dream, I swear. I saw a girl who looked about your age. She seemed like any other teenager, but there was something about her that was different. The way she spoke, maybe, or the glint in her eyes. She was magical, I’m sure of it. She can save Storybrooke.”

“And save me,” Peter reminds him. “That’s the important part.”

Henry rolls his eyes again. If he keeps that up, they’re going to get stuck like that forever. “Yes, I know, you’re only interested in keeping yourself alive. So long as it helps us find this girl, though, I don’t care.”

Peter leans forward. “What’s your plan for finding this girl, then? A little scouting party? This city is big. You’ll never find her.”

Henry shakes his head. “Magic has a way of finding magic. Somehow, our paths will cross.”

“That’s a terrible strategy,” Peter grouses. Why is he entrusting his life to this boy again? He remembers something about having no other options, but it doesn’t seem as good an excuse right now.

“Ask the adults, then,” Henry tells him, and gestures towards the miniscule apartment kitchen, where Emma, Snow, Hook, and David are currently huddled around a table, talking in hushed voices about what to do.

Not wanting to mess with the kid anymore, Peter pulls himself to his feet and heads over. “Tell me you have a plan,” he says.

The adults look up at him. “Find the girl,” Hook says shortly. “That’s our plan.”

Peter scoffs. “You could search this city for months and not find her. What if she doesn’t want to be found? If this girl has any brains at all, she’ll know that people will want her magic and she’ll hide. It’s what I would do.”

Emma sighs. “We don’t even know if this girl knows that she has magic. She’s probably just living an ordinary life, and we’re about to drag her out of it with all of our trouble.”

“Don’t tell me you feel bad for her,” Peter scolds her. “You want this, don’t you? So go get it, or I will.”

Snow tries to tell him to calm down, but David, so quick to anger when it comes to Peter, surges out of his chair. “How about you do something helpful and think with us instead of just insulting us?”

“I will do something helpful,” Peter informs him. “I’ll find her first.”

With that, he lunges for the apartment door, and is out of the tiny room and down the hall before they can stop him. Peter hears the thunder of footsteps after him, but he hurries down the stairs and out of the building. He has the advantage of being quick on his feet; if Neverland taught him anything, it’s how to run when you don’t want to be found.

Peter emerges into the bright sunshine of the city and stops dead in his tracks. He’s not used to the modern world, how the knives of its buildings slash up into the sky, how loud it is with those cars and signs and people. Peter swears he can even see metal things in the sky, soaring along predestined paths. It’s all so much compared to the world he used to know. No wonder some of the others had a hard time adjusting. His mortal heart lets out a pang of sympathy.

The door of the apartment building flies open, revealing Emma and the others hot on his trail. Peter curses under his breath and takes off in one direction, hurtling around pedestrians and shooting down the sidewalk. He heads for smaller streets, hoping to lose them in a swarm of alleyways. The others, more used to the terrain of the modern city, are gaining on him, and Peter is just starting to think that he’ll never be able to shake them when someone grabs him and pulls him into a nearby building.

Peter’s first instinct is to defend himself, but when he isn’t attacked, he realizes that the stranger is only trying to help him. There’s a window just to his left, and Peter watches Emma and the others appear seconds after him. They didn’t see him enter the shop, and keep sprinting down the road in the direction they thought he’d gone. Peter waits a few more intense moments, then decides that he’s lost them for good and turns back around to see who’s gone to the trouble of rescuing him.

He’s greeted with the sight of a girl about his age. She’s eyeing him cautiously, although the corners of her lips begin to prick up with a wicked grin. “Sorry for the rough introduction, but you looked like you needed some help,” she tells him.

Peter lets out a short laugh. “I’m glad to be rid of them, that’s for sure.”

The girl arches a brow. “What, did they catch you shoplifting? I’ve never seen people run that fast unless they were getting chased by the cops.”

Peter narrows his eyes, trying to figure out how on earth he would lift a shop, then decides it’s probably some slang term he doesn’t know. “Something like that,” he says evasively.

He studies the girl’s face to see if he’d answered correctly, and, judging by her impressed grin, he had. “Nice,” she says. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Peter,” he replies. He gets the urge to introduce himself as he usually would– Peter, Peter Pan– then remembers at the last second that Emma had warned him about telling people who he was. Apparently, telling people he was a fictional character in their world wouldn’t go over too well.

“Peter,” the girl repeats. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Peter says, and realizes belatedly that he means it. He feels like how he had at the start of it all, when the Lost Boys had first started appearing on this island, but this feeling is far stronger. He wants to get to know this girl. He certainly doesn’t want her to leave.

“I’m new to the city,” he says abruptly. “Any chance you could show me around?”

Y/N laughs, surprised. “You’re new and you’re already in trouble? You’ll fit right in, Peter.”

He grins, in on the joke a half beat late. “I like to have fun, that’s all.”

“Well,” Y/N says, starting to lead him back towards the door of the shop, “I like fun, too. Maybe we should stick together.”

“I’d like that,” Peter says, then wonders why he’s being so honest all of a sudden. When he sees Y/N’s smile– real this time, not sarcastic or joking, but genuinely because of him– he thinks he knows why.

The two of them step back out into the light. “Where to first?” Peter asks.

“I was going to ask you that,” Y/N replies. “What do you want to do? Sightseeing, maybe? We can get some food, or just talk.”

“Anything,” he says. He’d follow her anywhere. The feeling in him right now is like nothing he’s ever felt before. The pain in his chest, Peter realizes with some surprise, is gone. He feels immortal. Like living in this one moment could last forever.

They end up spending the next few hours together. Y/N shows him around the city, taking Peter to her favorite spots. Peter stares at the vast cityscape and finally starts to understand why someone might choose the modern world over the natural one. He’ll always pick Neverland first, of course, but seeing the world through Y/N’s eyes, it makes sense.

The two of them get along like a house on fire. Y/N’s got this rebellious streak to her that fits in perfectly with Peter’s, well, Peter-ness. No joke is too dark, no sarcastic comment too caustic. They feel the same. Peter doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who thinks so much like him.

As the sun starts to set in the sky, Peter feels his spirits sinking. He doesn’t want to let go of this day, not when he knows it can never happen again. He’s supposed to be finding Henry’s spell-girl, but all Peter wants to do is spend more time with Y/N.

His mood is especially ruined when they turn a corner and find Henry Mills walking towards them. Peter’s eyes widen and he tries to steer Y/N back in the direction they’d come, but it’s too late. Henry lets out an audible gasp and starts hurrying towards them.

“Peter,” Henry calls out when he’s close enough to talk, “We’ve been looking for you all over! Where have you been?”

Y/N glances at Henry dubiously. “Who’s this?”

“My little brother,” Peter blurts out.

At the same time, Henry chimes in, “My friend from school.”

Peter shoots the younger boy a quick glare, then turns back to Y/N. “Both, actually. He’s my step-brother. Recent marriage. We’re still getting acclimated. Our family is a little chaotic.”

“You can say that again,” Henry mumbles. Peter fights the urge to butcher him.

While Peter silently advises himself on why murder would be bad at a time like this, Henry stares openly at Y/N. All of a sudden, the boy’s mouth hangs open. “Oh my gosh, it’s you.”

Y/N’s brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

All of a sudden, Peter feels a sick sensation in his stomach. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.

“You’re the girl from my dream,” Henry announces. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Y/N looks back at Peter. “What’s he talking about?”

The open, carefree expression, which had been on her face all day, is starting to be replaced with deep, unsettled fear. Peter hates to see it directed at him. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he begins. “Something about yourself.”

“You’re sounding a little creepy right now,” Y/N warns him. “Get to the point.”

“Alright,” Peter says. “You’re magical. So am I. We need your help to break a curse and save my life. How about that?”

Y/N shakes her head quickly. “This is crazy. Magic isn’t real.”

Peter can’t lose her, not like this, so he leans forward and holds out his hand. A ball of light appears inside his cupped fingers, glowing and bright. It’s a simple charm, one of the first he learned, but it has the desired effect. 

Y/N stares at it, transfixed, and when she speaks again, her voice is hushed. “That’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” Peter says. “Not magic. Not even the fact that you would find me in this city by accident. Magic is drawn to magic.”

Y/N’s eyes slowly raise to meet his. “This is real, then. I have magic.”

“You have magic,” Peter confirms. “Come with us, we can show you. They’re good people, Y/N. You can trust them.”

It’s the closest he’s ever come to honesty. For once, Peter isn’t playing a game. He isn’t trying to trick Y/N over to his side. He just wants her to be safe, and he knows that isn’t through lies.

Y/N smiles at him. “I trust you, Peter. That’s enough for me.”

She reaches over and takes his hand. Now that he’s focusing on it, Peter can feel the slow loop of her magic when they touch. It feels like power, but more than that, it feels like life. A life with her, maybe. A life for both of them.

ouat tag list: @loveanimals0000, @eclliipsed, @w1shes43, @lost-ender

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[yandereshingeki]

The Antithesis of Decay

made for @ficsforgaza’s Kinktober!

⬑ please check them out! ⬏

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x afab!reader

Content Warnings: Stuckage, fingering, dub/noncon, no gendered pronouns, but reader is described to have bigger hips than their waist (no big specifications though). meant to take place between s3 & 4

Summary: An escape through the alleyway ends in a terrifying run-in with a wanted villain.

Managed to write this entirely in a single day 😵‍💫 it gave me a headache doing it that fast but thank god i got it done! It was a lot longer than I intended (stuckage is hard to keep short akhsheja & i originally wanted to go full smut but then wrote too much) and was a little bit difficult to navigate cause I don’t think about shiggy in a sexual way BUT !! I DID IT!

This is also the first time I'm posting something I've written in present tense, I'm just trying to experiment and figure out how I like to write lol

Shiggy lovers i hope this is adequate!!

Another crash. Another roar. Another Nomu.

You're in the thick of it, beside a building, half-destroyed, and another one completely toppled to the ground. There's screaming and panic, citizens running in every which way to escape the crossfire. Another building is about to collapse, and the monsters take no hesitation in using it as leverage to fight.

There are other heroes here, maybe three, or even more now if there were any on patrol nearby; it isn't clear through the fog of dirt and smoke. It isn't enough though. None of you had the strength or stamina to fight against the group of Nomus that appeared. Especially not by yourselves, even if you barely outnumbered them. The rubble is building. The ground is practically shaking under their destructive hands. They have the absolute advantage.

  Your quirk isn't built for such a fight, even as a pro, and your combat skills would prove useless against those monsters. You're meant to be more of a support hero than anything, someone usually waiting on the sidelines to rush in and heal the defending heroes in fights. The limits of your restorative quirk meant it was wise to steer clear from the heart of the battle and avoid being hurt, so the best course of action would be to run. Run and find backup. That's the most you can do for now; the most you can try to save what remains of that small city sector.

You choose your path quickly, remaining observant of the chaos around you. Cracked asphalt and concrete, dust flying everywhere from the destruction, debris from the second half-collapsed building scattered everywhere. The Nomus remain distracted by the other heroes, so despite the obstacles, there's a clear path to the closest alleyway. From there, if you can just reach the other side of the buildings and escape harm's way, you'll be safe to make the call.

You can make it, you believe — as long as you're fast. Confident, you take off, bound for the crack between two untouched office buildings nearby, the spring in your costume's boots allowing you to move more efficiently. With such quick speed, you nearly run face-first into the wall, entering it at an angle that's easy to correct with a simple push off against the brick. From there, the path is a straight shot to the other side, only separated by a feeble chain link fence. There's a hole that looks just big enough for you to crawl through at the bottom of it, the wire pried upward to create a gap. You can make it, you repeat in your head. The coast is clear, you can make it.

  Stumbling to a stop in front of the mesh barrier, you drop to your knees as quickly as your body will allow, planting yourself onto your stomach afterward. The opening is much smaller up close, but it's nothing you can't army-crawl your way through. Your costume was made to be dirtied and protect you in the heat of conflict, so having it scrape across the rocky ground while you drag your way under the fence isn't an issue. Its durability was the least of your problems — until now, that is..

  The elastic fabric snags on the wire once you squeeze your head and arms through the hole. Time is sensitive, you don’t have any to waste on something trivial like this. You try to reach back to untangle it, only to find the wire completely stabbed through. 

  With a heavy sigh and adrenaline crawling in your veins at the delay, you manage to move back a sizable distance before you try again, but it’s useless. The ends of the wires are sharp and stab into your suit with ease, holding you back. You needed to try something else, you needed to be fast.

  Before you can attempt to force your way through the hole, a voice arises behind you. Raspy and hoarse, you don’t even realize he's there until he speaks.

  “Oh, look at what we have here. A hero, is it?”

  His approach is slow, and you only hear his footsteps once he's standing over you. Your entire body goes stiff, your blood running cold as you curve your spine back to look at him.

  "Shigaraki," you whisper, terrified, under your breath. 

  "Oh, you know me already? How nice, I suppose we can skip the introductions then." 

  You can hear your breath hitch in your throat when he speaks and feel his presence as he looms right behind you, bending at the knees to crouch down over your legs.

  "I've seen you on TV," he starts, and you hold back a scream when you feel four rough fingers gently touch the back of your thigh, "You've got quite the impressive quirk, you know. Restoration quirks are hard to come by. And yours…"

  He pauses again, glides them up to where your hip and femur jointed together, and relishes in the way you shiver before he continues, "It's the exact opposite of mine. I guess you can only restore organic things, sure, but — it does make me wonder."

  You're hardly listening to his little ramble, your heartbeat drumming too loud in your ears to process anything — but then, your head goes blank when you feel all five of his fingers cup around your hip. Panic sets in fast, and you find yourself writhing before you can think, trying to force your way through the fence. The metal wires only dig into your skin, causing even more pain as you realize you're hips are too big to fit, and you wouldn't have made it anyway.

  Tomura only chuckles lightly at your reaction, watching the bottom half of your hero suit disintegrate into dust. You don't even realize it until you're already crying, and a cold breeze hits your face and bottom half. His hand is on you. Touching you. Feeling you, and yet.

  You don't feel any pain. His touch is simply normal against your skin. His palm is surprisingly warm, but dry. And you don't disintegrate. You don't disintegrate.

  Tomura laughs again at wide eyes and gaping mouth as if you should have expected his quirk to cancel out with yours. He slides his palm across your bottom, down to the back of your thigh again to caress it up and down slowly. Carefully. His touch lingers far longer than you're comfortable with.

  "Your quirk activates automatically when it's your own body, right? I wonder how long I can keep doing this for, then." He speaks so casually, acting like you weren't trapped and half-bare under him.

  "I've always wanted to be able to touch someone like this again. No gloves, no barriers. Just skin. When I saw you on the news and heard about your quirk, I thought you were perfect. Aside from that pesky hero stuff, that is," he frowned slightly behind the hand on his face, moving his own to grip at the fat of your ass, "You have no idea how frustrating it is to be unable to touch something without it falling apart."

  You let out a loud squeak, feeling his weight on the back of your knees when he sits on them, squeezing and kneading your flesh in his hand. There are tears in your eyes, and you struggle to twist around to look back at him, where he sits proudly like a king on his throne. Seeing such a widely known villain — being face to face, but being stuck and having him touch you like this. It felt humiliating. Humiliating to who you were as a person and a hero. You felt sick to your stomach.

  He frowns a little at the pathetic look you give him, only tightening his hold more, "Come on, don't look like that. I haven't done anything yet."

  As he speaks, he slides another hand underneath you and pulls your hips up slightly, your spine beginning to ache at how it was strained. You can only shake as you watch him, the hand that was gripping your ass moving to slide a single finger down the center of your underwear, sending a large jolt up your spine.

  In an instant, you look forward again, covering your mouth to hold back any noise you'd almost let out. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of making a sound, let it be cries or anything. So you force yourself to silence, even as tears roll down your face.

  Tomura only grins, running the finger up and down the fabric a few more times just to feel you jolt before hooking around the lining to pull it off to the side, stuffing it between your thigh and outer labia to keep you exposed. You clench up at the cold air, another shudder roving through your body as Tomura holds back a chuckle.

  Without another thought or word, he immediately dives in, his two fingers sliding between your folds, feeling whatever you can offer him before moving down to the bud below. You shiver, but are otherwise completely frozen as he does this, not even knowing half of what to do to retaliate.

  "Not too wet yet, I see. That's ok, I can fix that." He says, beginning to prod around for that extra sensitive spot he knew you wouldn't resist. A lightbulb goes off in his head when you jolt suddenly, your hips shaking extra whenever he squishes or pokes at it. With a grin plastered under that embalmed hand, he starts to move his fingers around in slow, gentle circles.

  The coarseness of his fingers doesn't help the sensation they bring on, that feeling of soft ecstasy pulsing through your body slowly like a drum. You hold back your sounds, at least, only your breathing growing heavy as he watches you clench around nothing. 

  It isn't enough for him. He needs more than this, he needs you prepared, and that wouldn’t come from just a few measly touches. 

  His fingers move faster, gaining enough friction that he has you audibly gasping, slick already building up just below. It doesn't take as long as expected, like your body is reacting on primal need. It almost makes him wonder — maybe you're getting off to the position he has you in, even if you don't realize it.

  He gives you a few more minutes of soft touching, allowing a good amount of wetness to accumulate between your shaking thighs before moving his fingers up. He gathers your natural lube on his digits, humming as he slathers it all over your pussy to make it nice and glossy before dipping them back in, finally allowing them to take the plunge.

  As if you weren't already amply humiliated, the way his fingers toy with you before pressing in is distracting enough that he manages to draw a squeak out of you the second he dives in.

  "Ohh, give me more of that. Don't be shy." He says, sliding his digits out slowly, licking his lips at how slick they are before shoving them back in.

  His fingers are so long, soaking knuckle-deep inside of you and reaching parts that your own couldn't. You would rather die at his hands now than ever admit it to anyone, but god, it feels good.

  He's already moving them so fast, curling them all around like he's searching for something. It felt too good to be touched by someone like that. You haven't slept with another person for over a year, so it's like a new foreign feeling and an old friend all at once. You can't stop yourself. Your brain grows foggier with each drag of his fingers, like he's scratching an itch you couldn’t by yourself. You couldn't hold it back anymore.

  You let out a quiet, croaked moan, covering your face with your hands to hide how embarrassing it is to indulge in something so crude with someone like him.

  A wretched smile immediately dawns on Tomura's face, and he moves his hand even faster, trying to milk more sounds out of you before he moves on. He wants you to make more noise, to hear how good a disgusting villain like him is making a great hero like you feel.

  From there, the sounds just spilled out. He’s surprisingly quick to find the smooth spot inside of you, pumping over it repeatedly until you’re a wriggling, gasping mess. The coil inside of you is winding up tight, growing ready to burst at almost any second. 

  It's so degrading, being face down in the concrete while a villain is digging his fingers so deep into you. But you weren’t thinking about that anymore. Your mind is too focused on how good it feels rubbing against your walls, the friction driving you crazy with how fast it builds up.

  Then, like electricity in your veins, it comes crashing through your body all at once. The pleasure, the ecstasy. Your body practically vibrates against his hand, an unforgiving orgasm ripping through your entire system until you’re panting like a dog, still pulsing around him as he slowly removes his fingers and wipes them on your thigh.

  As you return from your high, the quiet chuckling unnerves you. And then you feel sick to your stomach again. You’re still recovering, but you’ve come to your senses enough to look behind you.

  The sight you see has bile rising in your throat. He’s already grabbed onto you again, unzipping his pants with one hand while he speaks.

  “So, what do you think your little hero friends would think if you had sex with a villain?”

[rebeccathenaturalist]

This ties into one of the big conundrums of restoration ecology. When trying to decide what plants to add to a restoration site, should we add those that are there now, even if some of those species are increasingly stressed by the effects of climate change? Or do we start importing native species in adjacent ecoregions that are more tolerant of heat?

Animals can migrate relatively quickly, but plants take longer to expand their range, and the animals that they have mutual relationships with may be moving to cooler areas faster than the plants can follow. Whether the animals will be able to survive in their new range without their plant partners is another question, and that is an argument in favor of trying to help the plants keep up with them. We're not just having to think about what effects climate change will have next summer, but also predict what it's going to look like here in fifty years, a hundred, or beyond. It's an especially important question in regards to slow-growing trees which may not reproduce until they are several years old, and which can take decades to really be a significant support of their local ecosystem.

For example, here in the Pacific Northwest west of the Cascades, western red cedar (Thuja plicata) is experiencing increased die-off due to longer, hotter summer droughts. Do we continue to plant western red cedar, in the hopes that some of them may display greater tolerance to drought and heat? Or do we instead plant Port Orford cedar (Chamaecyparis lawsoniana), which is found in red cedar's southern range, and which may be more drought-tolerant, even though it's not found this far north yet?

Planting something from an adjacent ecoregion isn't the same as grabbing a plant from halfway around the world and establishing it as an invasive species. But there is the question as to whether the established native would have been able to survive if we hadn't introduced a competing "neighbor" species. Would the Port Orford cedars and western red cedars be able to coexist as they do in northern California and southern Oregon, or would the introduced Port Orfords be enough to push the already stressed red cedars over the edge to extirpation?

There's no simple answer. But I am glad to see the government at least allowing some leeway for those ecologists who are desperately trying any tactic they can to save rare species from extinction.

[mactavishsgfandwife]

141 When They’re Sick

bilingual privilege is using your second language to scribble down notes for your tumblr fanfiction in class with the reassurance that no one else will be able to understand what you’re writing 😋 pure fluff (not proofread)

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish

soap has such man flu vibes

i just know he will have a little cold from never dressing appropriately for the english weather (he thinks he can tough it out) (he can’t) and then lays on the sofa for a week, miserable and constantly pining for your attention

he loves a cup of tea when he’s sick but he also swears that irn bru has magic restorative qualities, and "that’s how i keep m’physique, bonnie"

Johnny groans, rubbing his face with his palm as he lays stretched out over the sofa, his feet resting on one arm and a hot water bottle flopped lazily over his stomach. For the most part, the grunts and sighs seem genuine, but you could swear that he makes sure to emphasise his suffering when you walk past, just to let you know what a big strong boy he’s being for dealing with his sore throat and slight headache.

"Head hurts…" he groans, holding a forearm over his eyes to shield them from the light.

"I know, honey… you want a paracetamol?" you pat his head, trying to hide your little, sympathetic laugh.

"Nah, only just had one… Y’could gimme a kiss, though," he grinned up at you, his tone lightening a little.

"Ew! Stop, I don’t want your germs," you laugh, pulling your hand away from his hair.

"Aww, c’mon… might make me feel better," Johnny teases, sitting up a little (he wasn’t really that weak in the first place) and holds your wrist so you can’t escape. When you see the stupid, irritating grin on his face, you know you don’t really care about germs. You just want to kiss him.

Captain John Price

price, when he’s feeling ill, likes to be looked after - the number one cure for ANY of this man’s problems is a warm bath

he loves it when you act like a little housewife for him, running him a warm bath and bringing him a constant stream of cups of tea - sometimes he’ll pretend to be sicker than he is for a little longer than he has to just for a day or two more of being doted on by you. not that you don’t do that anyways.

but he’s a menace when you try to go off shopping or to work - he lays a strong, hairy arm over you, mumbling something about being sick and needing you to stay

if you massage his back and shoulders when he’s feeling sick, he will be so happy. it takes a little longer than when he rubs your back because there’s just more of him, with his broad shoulders and muscular dad-bod (yum)

You have John laying on his front, on the bed, arms crossed under his head. His hair is damp, getting the bedsheets a little wet beneath him, and he has a soft white towel wrapped loosely around his hips - he smells strangely like lavender (he definitely used your shower gel instead of his because yours is nicer - you pretend not to notice, as your hands gently move up and down his sore back).

He’s managed to come down with a bad cold the day after an intense workout, so his body is totally exhausted and nothing really appeals to him other than laying down. Being as fit as he is, you wouldn’t expect him to be in such a state, but the man needs a break and it’s plain to see.

The soft light from the nice-smelling candles that you’ve lit on the bedside table plays in his wet hair, which you gently comb your fingers through.

"You been using my products again, hmm?" you grin with a gentle tone, leaning in closer to him.

"Sorry love…" he starts to respond, his voice a little hoarse.

"It’s okay," you laugh softly, nuzzling your face into his back as you lower yourself on top of him, like a weighted blanket. Your soft hands wrap gently around his scarred sides, as little sighs of contentment leave your mouth.

"What happened to my back rub?" he teases, feeling your body laying against him. Still, he doesn’t a muscle to stop you from cuddling up to him.

As you keep quiet, enjoying the warmth of his body, he chuckles and pulls himself into a more comfortable position below you.

"That’s alright, sweetheart…" he replies to your silence.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

simon would try to be an unphased tough guy but he’d have little moments of weakness

he’d insist that he’s not that sick while taking paracetamol and drinking tea constantly, pulling you close to him as often as he can and being clingier than usual (he’s always touchy, but he is particularly reliant on you now)

he’s in a terrible mood, but just resting his head on your shoulder or holding you while you work helps him… better yet, he loves it when you’re sitting on the sofa and working on your laptop, or watching a film, and he gets to lay down with his head in your lap - with your soft fingers occasionally brushing through his short hair

he’s a tough guy, but when it’s just you and him, he can just lay down with his girl without worrying about being ghost. he’s just simon - poorly simon, with his sweet girlfriend taking care of him.

Phone in your hand, you quietly text your friend about her crazy ex boyfriend and the dress that she’s going to wear out tonight - the red one or the other red one, with the different neckline? You look up to the doorway to see a tall, tired man walk into the sitting room - 6’4", dressed in an old grey hoodie and a pair of pyjama bottoms, ruffling his hair and looking utterly exhausted.

"Thought you were asleep, Si…"

"Can’t sleep," he mumbles gruffly, silently moving towards you and finding a spot to lay his head - right in your lap, his feet resting on the opposite arm of your big sofa.

Understanding his fatigue, you sigh softly and stroke his head as it lays against you. His skin is pale, showing his sickness, and his eyes look tired and dry. A little groan escapes his lips as he shuffles on the sofa, trying to make himself comfortable.

"Love you, darling…" he whispers softly, his eyes shutting in preparation to finally sleep.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

i feel like kyle’s love language is food

if you make that man a curry or a good spag bol, he will secretly be making plans to propose to you as he eats it

and that’s all the more true when he’s ill or tired out - some comfort food home cooked by you would mean the world

Gaz had a bad cold and had been hibernating in bed all day, mostly asleep but occasionally watching the football or texting Soap to complain about how sick he is. As you walked into the room, brandishing a bowl of spaghetti carbonara, his eyes lit up.

"Hey, what’s this?" he grins, his voice a little hoarse.

"Carbonara. For you," you chuckle, placing it down on his bedside table, "I have some work stuff to finish, I-"

"Y’could just stay with me instead. I’ve been locked up in here all day," he teases.

"You’ve been asleep all day! I really need to… well…"

"Come on, baby."

You struggle to hide the grin that’s creeping onto your face, not wanting to procrastinate your work any longer (this wasn’t the first time Kyle has stolen you away from typing up emails) but he got what he wanted when, a moment later, you were cuddled up to him. Wearing his tshirt and your underwear, with your head resting on his shoulder.

"Oh my God, this is so good!" he chuckles, eating, voice still strained from the sore throat. He’s mostly just happy to have you next to him (oh, as well as the pasta).

gaz is my babyyyyyyy i don’t think you guys get it 😣😣😣 this took an age and a half to write i hope it’s up to standard thanks for reading!! xx

[kyouxa]

Diabolik lovers Lost Eden: Ayato & Laito Sakamaki (short stories)

Please no reposting onto other sites, ask me before translating this into another language too! Scans provided by: @yuikomorii​

Ayato Sakamaki

That night, Richter visited the mansion for the first time in a while. Never before I would have thought that the man whose face I never wanted to see again, was the one I would end up choosing as my guardian. My brothers, even the Mukami guys… they looked very surprised to run into his face as well, not that I cared though. 

In any case, I just didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes I already made in this world. But thanks to her I’ve already become a different person from back then.

According to Richter’s report, the demon world itself seems to gain stability. He also mentioned that Eden’s restoration has become slightly better and that the familiars of those Mukami guys have come to help. Holy shit, after hearing all of this I couldn’t help but let my inner self get overwhelmed by relief. 

As Richter finished his report, he immediately left the mansion and I could finally return to my own room. And just as I opened the door I saw her sitting by the window, reading a book as she slowly raised her face.

“Hm… ? Is Richter-san already back on his way home? Don’t you usually have a longer talk with one another… ?”

As she spoke to me, I approached her and started to smell a calming scent. As I grabbed her hand to move her up from the chair, I couldn’t help but immediately hug her afterwards. The book she was holding in her hand instantly fell onto the floor with a thud. 

“Just outta curiosity… but did you happen to take a bath while I was gone?”

She nodded to my question and I started to smile at her in response.

“Heh, so you’ve prepared yourself already? If that’s so, then…”

As soon as I spoke those words, I pushed her down onto the bed next to me. Blocking her flustered face from uttering something, I laid my hand over her lips to keep them closed. 

While I started kissing her continuously in various spots of her neck, I disarranged her negligee slightly. And like usually, when my face is already close to her neckline, I might as well get a bit of her luxurious blood out of her dainty neck. Just when I was about to get to it, she stiffened up a little. Noticing this, I suddenly got an idea and gently licked over her neck. “Kya!!”

She was very surprised by my action and therefore let out a small scream. I guess it was pretty unexpected after all. 

“Kuku… did you think I was about to suck your blood? You fell for it, didn’t you?”

Right after I said that, I teasingly started licking her ear this time. She lets out another small scream and turns around as if I had just tickled her. I was intrigued by her unusual reaction, which is why I started to really tickle her body this time.

She busted out laughing begging me to stop while she tried to escape from my tickling attack which just made me wanna tickle her even more. If I was already given the choice I might as well do it as thoroughly as possible. 

“I’m not letting you go! At least not until I’m satisfied…”

She continued to roll around the bed for a while, trying to resist until she rapidly became obedient and calmed down. “Hm? What’s going on? Surrendering? How boring…”

Just as I was about to move my hands from her, she unexpectedly turned the situation around. “Wha–! What are… hahahaha!” 

Of all the things, I didn’t expect her to take advantage of me taking off my hands for a second to gimme a tickle counterattack. Seeing me burst into laughter made her laugh as well. “Stop already, will you!? Hahah! Shit! Chichinashi, move… !” 

Receiving even the slightest bit of retribution I immediately became serious again and got my revenge through tickling her body. She tried with all her power to go up against me and return the punishment . 

And, just for a brief period I was sure the laughter of both of us was echoing through more than just the room. To be honest, it would’ve been easy for me to get out of this situation and resist her. And yet, the reason why I go along with such a trivial battle is because I would give anything to keep seeing her carefree smile, even if it’s only for a bit longer. The fact that we can both laugh together like this makes me feel happy and maybe that’s because I’ve grown a little since then. 

Laito Sakamaki

I’ve returned to the human world in order to finish my school life as a senior high student. I never thought I would have to return here every day again. “Haa… I’m sick of reading this, I wish those tests would finally disappear for good.” While I started to comb my hair out of boredom, my girlfriend who’s sitting next to me continued studying in silence until she replied that it cannot be helped and I should continue reading. 

“Come on, Bitch-chan. No need to be such a serious and straight-laced person, no?” As I said those words, I gently put my arm around her back and started to lightly embrace her waist. Even though I saw a faint blush on her face, she reminds me that she is busy studying right now. 

“I know that.” But, despite that, I started nibbling on her ear. Perhaps this has always been my normal life no matter to what extent. 

To even think that I begged for death because it was unbearable to keep on having these powers in my state… but that is beyond doubt the absolute truth and I totally understand that I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the power of the World Tree. The only difference from me back then and now is that I am finally able to accept that reality. During that time, my power was too strong for me to handle, I wasn’t able to come to grasp that reality. And even so, I deserved a second chance. Ironically, due to her help I could finally accept the distortion within me and become more straightforward at the end. I held up my face close to her chest in a way of telling that I love her. 

“This is all thanks to you that I can exist like this.” However, she doesn’t reply to me. “Are you agreeing with me if you’re staying silent like this?” 

It was a calm sigh that she returned to me that made me understand the answer to my question. 

“I guess I was too reckless, no?” She showed a bitter smile as I examined her expression. As I observed her tiny body calmly from top to bottom I was shaken by a sudden feeling of satisfaction. And yet there is no way to help the fact that this world is slowly going to destroy itself. I have been told that alongside my resurrection, the world tree has been new-born but started to shed its leaves ever since. Even though it’s all said and done this is happening just as he wished for. He knew right from the start that I wasn’t ever capable of being the vampire king. 

“No matter how far I move on with my life, I will always be right in the palm of his hands.” With those words escaping my mouth, I closed my eyes. It’s still unimaginable to me that I used to be a different person before, but… all I needed in the end is someone like her to accept me as I am. That is because I am Adam and she is Eve. – And no matter what will become of this world, I’m prepared for it. 

[descendant-of-truth]

Ohhh this scene. This one's a doozy

Nine is right to call this out about Sonic, of course. While he's definitely grown since the start of the show, he's never really been able to move past his tunnel vision and tendency to project onto the others.

He never thought to ask Nine what he wanted not because he doesn't care, but because he didn't think he needed to. He inherently assumes that the people he's working with are on the same page as him until told otherwise - in fact, it wasn't too long ago that he was similarly thrown off by Shadow in that very room.

(Love Shadow being used as a sort of "test run" for these kinds of conflicts by the way)

But here's the thing. While it's true that Sonic didn't really think about what Nine wanted and just assumed they were going to stick together no matter what... the same is true of Nine.

Look at how confused Nine looks when Sonic talks about coming back to Green Hill and restoring it:

Nine didn't ask what Sonic was wanting to do by repairing the Prism because he thought it was obvious that they were going back to the Grim together. I don't think it occurred to him that fixing Green Hill was even an option, or at least not one that he considered in favor of his original plans.

And just like Sonic, it's not that he only cares about himself - he went out of his way to engineer coconuts and (presumably) palm trees because he knew how much Sonic missed them. It was really sweet!

But, in what's becoming a pattern in this show, he doesn't understand why those trees matter to Sonic. They're not just cool plants, they're a reminder of home. And as Sonic aptly puts it at the start of the show, home is where your friends are.

I love that the conflict here is that both of them were convinced they knew what the other person wanted/would be okay with, because they think it'll naturally be the same thing they want, and then were both completely unprepared to handle a conflict of interest. It feels so natural and makes perfect sense with how they've been written up to this point.

But see, while I think it's pretty clear that Sonic and Nine fell into the exact same communication trap, I think it's going to take longer for Nine to realize his own fault in any of this.

Sonic spent the entire second half of that conversation looking devastated, and he's made it clear throughout the show that he's quick to feel remorse when he realizes he's hurt someone. In all likelihood, he's going to put all of the blame for that argument on himself, decide that Nine was right about everything, and leave it at that.

Nine, likewise, doesn't strike me as a particularly self-reflective type. He'd probably try to justify not needing Sonic to himself before anything else, and with that in mind, who else is there to make him see the situation with more nuance?

If I had to pick, I'd guess Shadow - our resident "smacking people in the face with their own flaws" extraordinaire.

Why would he bother with any sort of mediating between the two? Well, the funniest reason would be that he finds Sonic's self-pitying and Nine's self-righteousness equally annoying, but I'm inclined to assume any sort of confrontation between him and Nine would be a little more dramatic than that. (He might still use that reasoning as justification though)

Anyway I gotta cut this post short before I go too far into speculation territory or else I'll be here for another hour and this took long enough to write as is, case in point I love me a well-written and believable conflict

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I’m just going to throw down my thoughts now real quick. Someone is obviously going to get taken over by Fyodor. This takeover seems to require blood to activate. Here are the potential options, rated lowest to highest by my own personal interest.

Random character we’ve never met - the easy and boring answer. Fyodor will body snatch one of the vampire guards he was communicating with. Fair amount of likelihood since he could easily have made the transfer of blood at any point, though I’m not sure yet if it needs to be an instantaneous thing or if his blood can lie dormant. Either way I think it’s a bit of an ass-pull with no stakes on our cast so I’m hoping this isn’t the case.

A named character outside Meursault - Probably someone he’s had a lot of contact with, so Fukuchi. This depends on the blood having a latency period and is also insanely contrived. I actually hate it more than the random guard.

The Catgirl thief - I’m assuming this is extremely unlikely since the host needs to be alive. But anyways. Women lovers here’s how we lose even worse.

Having said this now, I think it’s fairly obvious it has to be one of the other Meursault four. This is appropriately thematic and tragic, given that all of them place a lot of value on free will and self-determination, which a takeover by Fyodor would rob them of.

Chuuya - He spent a lot of time around Chuuya to be sure but there’s no blood on him. If there’s a latency period though, it is possible. I’m not feeling this one though, to be honest. I don’t see what narrative purpose it serves - Chuuya hasn’t had enough of a role in the manga for this to mean much, other than royally pissing Dazai off (which to be fair is definitely in character for Fyodor). I think it far more likely that Chuuya is going to be a witness for whatever comes next.

Sigma - High likelihood. He did get stabbed and had the memory transfer. I can’t remember whether Fyodor touched him with his wounded hand. It would be brutal for this to happen to him after he’d just broken free from his manipulation. But honestly I don’t know that Sigma getting taken over is all that interesting. For one, they’re going to need his knowledge (though that may be a reason for Fyodor to off him truthfully), and for another, I just don’t think Sigma’s… done enough as a character. I feel it would kind of render his arc in Meursault pointless to end his story here.

Nikolai - The most likely possibility to me. He is holding Fyodor’s severed hand, which he touched to his face. Fyodor’s ability probably kickstarts after his death, and Nikolai was the first to get his blood on him. Sadly, I suspect that if this is the case, this will be the end for Nikolai. If he gets taken over, I can’t see a reason or method to restore him to himself. What a horribly tragic end this would be to our favourite clown, his freedom snatched away for good by the one person he couldn’t help but get attached to.

Dazai - I dismissed this off-hand at first. Of course I did, Dazai is immune to abilities. I also want to be clear that I seriously doubt Asagiri will off his favourite boy like this. But oh man. What if Fyodor’s ability isn’t an ability, much like in the first skk manga team up? What if them both being there is a call-back to Rimbaud who snatched corpses, and Lovecraft who could hurt Dazai? What if Fyodor really has become no longer human - and this is the proof? I was kind of hoping the Meursault arc would end with Dazai (temporarily!) out of the picture, and this would be a way to do it - Atsushi and Akutagawa would have to step up, Chuuya could be more relevant. We could even have more Kyouka if what I’m starting to wonder is true - that Fyodor was involved in the death of her parents. At the same time, Dazai’s special boy plot armour nullification and mysteriousness gives us a plausible reason to bring him back. And all the while maybe they could continue their mind games, with Dazai being an annoying little pest in the back of Fyodor’s mind.

[gurugirl]

coming soon to tumblr | handyman!harry

821 word teaser - 10k+ one shot already posted on Patreon.

One shot summary: When you inherit your aunt's estate after she passes away, you hire Harry to fix up the old house but that's not all he winds up being good for. Based on this request.

. . .

Everything flowed so nicely with Harry. He was easy to talk to and you trusted that he knew what he was doing. And it didn’t hurt that his voice was soothing and deep and slow. You could listen to him talk about solid hardwood versus engineered hardwood all day long if he let you.

“Well, I’ll be heading out now I guess. Be back first thing in the morning and start on this porch.”

You walked him to his big truck and shook his hand again, thanking him for taking the job and feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional at everything.

Overwhelmed because Harry was so genuinely kind and you knew immediately you could trust him completely. Which just added to his charm and sex appeal. You really tried to push down the fact that he was so stunningly attractive because that wasn’t going to do you any good. And even though Mr. George told you he was single, you couldn’t imagine that was true. Someone as yummy-looking and kind-hearted as Harry? There was no way he wasn’t at least seeing someone.

But you were also emotional because you were finally going to get to see your aunt Gayla’s house restored to its original glory. It was going to be a real labor of love but it felt so good to be doing it. You had never felt so sure you were on the right path in life until that day. Until Harry arrived with his big truck and assured you that you’d get everything you wanted and that it would end up being even better than before.

And for the first time since you moved into that old house, you sat down and began to write. You’d gotten nearly ten thousand words written and were awake well into the wee hours of the morning typing away with the sudden inspiration you’d gotten. You fell asleep with your laptop next to you when you couldn’t hold your eyes open any longer.

You were woken to the sound of pounding and clanking and creaking which had you startled as you sat up in your bed and looked around your bedroom. The sun filled the space with light and you picked up your cellphone to note the time and saw a missed call from Harry.

Wrapping your robe around yourself you ran down the stairs all frazzled and rushed and burst onto the front porch, tripping over a stack of fresh boards and landing on your knees and palms like an idiot.

“Hey… hey…” you heard Harry’s deep voice from behind you as he slid his hands under your arms to help you up, “You okay?”

“Oh my god…” you croaked out the first words of the day from your throat, “I just woke up and realized you were here and… Sorry!”

He turned you to face him and looked down over your knees and lifted your palms upward to inspect, “Let’s get you cleaned up. Took quite the spill there. Sorry, I shouldn’t have stacked those boards right there.���

You felt your heart calm as he led you into your kitchen. He was so gentle with you, which for some reason you hadn’t expected. You knew he was kind but this seemed very much outside of the scope of his job description, “No, it’s fine! It’s me. I’d probably trip over the boards no matter where you had them stacked. I’m a bit of a nervous nelly. And when I woke up I just… I was startled. Fell asleep late and didn’t set an alarm…”

Harry grinned at you as you ran your faucet and put your hands under it, “It’s fine. No need to rush or get all riled up. I got here a bit early and when you didn’t answer I just figured I’d start on the porch. Think I’ll replace your doorbell as well. It’s not working either.”

You dried your hands and smiled at Harry, “I’ll get you a key before you leave today. In case I’m not here or I’m sleeping again. Sorry… I just had this burst of inspiration last night and typed until I passed out. It’s…”

“You’re fine,” you watched his eyes drop down to your torso and then bounce back up quickly to your face.

When you looked down at yourself you realized your robe was twisted and while all your bits were covered, they were barely covered.

“Jesus fucking Christ… I’m sorry, Harry. I’m a mess…” you pulled the material into place and adjusted the robe.

Harry put his hands at the tops of your arms, “Hey… you’re fine. Take a breath. It’s a beautiful morning and the birds are singing, and just look at this view…” he motioned toward your window where you could see trees and lush green grass stretch along the front of the house, “Now… Do you have some alcohol to clean up the cuts on your knees?”

. . .

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xoxo

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[lovemybluebully]

Feels Like Home

Holy shit! What the fuck is going on???!!! I finished a fic!!!! 😱🥰 So proud of myself right now.

Get your special sock out, nerds. It's gonna get good. 🤣

Logan has become downcast about the prospect of moving into a new apartment. Wade offers a foot massage to help him destress and.....You already know where this is going. 🤣

FYI! So yeah this fic is all foot tickles so if you're one of those people who detests feet then you may not want to read this. It is all SFW fluff kinda tickles though.

I skimmed through it as a quick edit so there may be some small fuck-ups, but I'll recheck it later and try to fix anything. Please enjoy!!

"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse

Word Count: 5,670 (That's a lot of words! 😳 You'll be here for a minute. lol)

It had been a few months now since Wade had returned triumphant to restore his timeline's integrity. No one really knew what to think when he introduced his newfound roommate to all of his loved ones, but with Wade being the happiest they had seen him in a long time they realized this Wolverine was responsible for that and were quick to accept him.

The adjustment period with Logan getting used to routine and having a place to return to every day went surprisingly well, and he found that he got along great with Althea. They bonded over ganging up to shit-talk Wade whenever he would get overbearingly obnoxious, but Wade simply revelled in it all. Hardly anything seemed to truly bother him these days.

Because with Wolverine at his side Wade now had some clout and was back to doing some mercenary for hire jobs, which more than covered the full rent of his apartment, bringing much relief to Althea to not have to worry about that anymore.

Logan solely had been offered some side work from Shield, but he insisted that he and Wade were a team and the only way they were getting him would be if they accepted Wade as well. They of course agreed to his terms and Wade was beyond grateful that not only was he now officially part of a team, but that Logan had stood up for him.

With their new jobs they were easily able to afford a much larger apartment as Wade excitedly broke the news to Althea that he and Logan would be moving out, though they still planned to pay her rent for her. He thought the woman would be ecstatic to finally have a place all to herself again without having to put up with his constant bullshit, but a wave of sadness seemed to wash over her instead.

The two men picked up on it instantly and after exchanging a glance with each other it didn't even require any further discussion. Blind Al was coming with them. They set upon getting her settled in first and made all the required trips back and forth between the apartments to move in all her possessions and made sure that she had everything she needed.

Logan stayed behind to box up the rest of their things while Wade dropped Althea and Mary Puppins off at the new apartment and the merc was happy to see how excited Althea was about all the extra space and no longer having to share a room with Wade.

Upon returning to help Logan, Wade found that he had already gotten everything that was remaining by the front door and ready to be moved. Really the only thing left in the apartment was their old couch that they were leaving behind, though this is where he currently found Logan laying and staring up at the ceiling in dull silence.

"Time's a wasting, pal. Get that sexy ass moving and let's haul the rest of this crap over to the new place," he called as he started to pick up one of the boxes before noticing that Logan hadn't moved or responded. Setting it back onto the floor he walked over to stand over the other man and look down at him, snapping his fingers in his face.

"Helloooo? Are you alive in there? Blink twice if you're not being mind controlled and held against your will."

Logan didn't blink. He hadn't this whole time. His eyes just seemed to be staring straight through Wade with a sadness hidden in the back of them, but he did give a soft sigh of a response.

"Yeah, I hear ya, bub."

Over time Wade had become better at figuring out when situations needed a more serious approach so he backed off on making another joke.

"What's the matter, Log? Aren't you anxious to get to the new apartment?"

"Sure," he said with no real emotion; his vague answers not revealing anything to Wade and making him determined to get to the bottom of it.

"Okay, what in the actual fuck is going on here? It's all we've been talking about for weeks. Explain the sudden melancholy," Wade allowed him a few moments, but when Logan didn't reply he narrowed his eyes at him, "Talk, or I'll make you talk."

He then gave a warning poke to Logan's ribs as the older man jumped and seemed to come out of his trance while his eyes finally blinked to focus on a concerned Wade. Groaning, he rubbed a hand over his listless face.

"Fuck. I don't know, I guess.......I guess I just realized that I'm gonna miss this place. A lot. Yeah, it's kind of a shit hole, but it's the first spot that I've been able to call home in a really....really long time. A place I actually belonged."

Wade's demeanor softened immediately once the truth had been revealed. Even though Logan had never said it outright Wade knew he had been grateful for the invite to live together. He just didn't realize exactly how much it all had meant to him.

"Hey hey cheer up," Wade placed a hand on his shoulder to give a gentle squeeze, "We're moving onto bigger and better things, my stab-happy friend. Now's not the time to be down when we should be celebrating."

Logan let out another unenthusiastic exhale, sitting himself up.

"I know it. Sorry, it just isn't sitting well with my head. Everything about this apartment holds a place in my memory, and this couch.....I've spent a lot of time on this couch. It ain't the most comfortable, but it gave me a place of my own where I could sleep in peace," he rubbed his hand over the couch arm fondly.

"You're going to have your own bed now, buddy. A real one. Not this piece of shit pull-out," Wade kicked the couch but immediately regretted it when he saw the frown of offense on Logan's face, "Sorry. I'm just saying we don't have to settle for mediocrity anymore. And hey, it's not the end of the world. Our new place is going to be just as good. Better even, and the most important thing is that we're all still together."

"You're right, and half of me is looking forward to it. Just the other half of me doesn't want to let go so easily. It's one of those bittersweet kinda things. I appreciate what this apartment has done for me.....what you've done for me, even though I know I don't make it easy sometimes."

"You're right on that one, buddy. But that's okay, you know I like it when you make it hard," Wade took a try at making a twisted innuendo, feeling hopeful when Logan huffed out a barely noticeable snort through his nostrils and shook his head.

"I don't know where I'm going with all this. Just ignore me. Stupid thoughts in my head. But I would like to just sit here a little longer though, if that's alright with you."

"Of course it is. We got 'til the end of the day on the lease so technically it's still ours until then," Wade replied as Logan gave a short nod and lowered his eyes, making Wade tilt his head in concern for his friend, "You sure there's nothing I can do in the meantime to cheer you up?"

"Ya don't have to waste that kinda effort on me, Wade. But maybe....if ya don't mind that is....you can stay here with me. Kinda eerie bein' in this place without ya and not hearing your obnoxious loud mouth every five seconds," the corner of Logan's mouth ticked up into the smallest of smiles, making Wade's heart flutter in joy.

"I knew deep down under all the insufferable machismo that you love me. I'll be writing a long, self-gratuitous entry about that in my diary later tonight. Only my version is going to be a lot more risqué," Wade added, trying to get another reaction out of him as Logan just rolled his eyes.

"Just keep it to yourself, moron. Ugh, too bad we already moved out all the alcohol. I could really use a drink to clear my head," he lifted a big hand as his fingers massaged the temples on the sides of his forehead.

Wade's face twisted in thought as he looked for something helpful around the empty apartment that he could use to lighten his friend's mood. But they had done a pretty thorough job cleaning up the place so Wade could get the deposit back, making him come up empty.

Still Logan had only wanted for Wade to stay there with him so he figured he might as well make himself comfortable. As he looked towards the end of the couch to find a seat, he quickly took notice that Logan was barefoot, which was not an uncommon sight these days.

Once he'd originally made himself at home in the apartment, Logan had begun ditching his footwear every day as soon as he'd enter the abode. He preferred the feeling of being free of constricting shoes and with his heightened senses he enjoyed the sensory feedback he received by having such close contact to the ground.

Even though it left him vulnerable to Wade's irresistible urges to go after his feet, which the hyperactive man had delightedly found to be devastatingly ticklish, he still felt it was worth the risk to truly feel content in his own skin. He always had to be on his guard though.

Wade now smiled widely as he came up with the perfect solution that was guaranteed to get the both of them into better spirits.

"What are you doing, Wade?" Logan inquired suspiciously as the merc picked up his long legs, sitting down on the couch before lowering them back down to end up with Logan's feet on his lap. He then smiled innocently at the perplexed man.

"You need to unwind a little, Peanut, and Dr. Wade is here to prescribe the remedy.....One soothing, with totally no underlying motives, foot massage coming up!"

Logan's body noticeably stiffened up at the thought of his feet being touched, an uneasy growl rising up in the back of his throat.

"Have you seriously not learned from the hundreds of times I've kicked you? I'm way too ticklish for you to be doing that," he started to pull his feet back, but Wade grabbed onto his ankles.

"Oh, don't be silly. You're not that ticklish," he yanked the feet back with little resistance while Logan quirked an eyebrow.

"Tell that to your nasal septum that I caved in last week."

"And my nose has never looked better! Look sort of like a young Marlon Brando, wouldn't you say?" Wade chuckled as he turned his head to give a side profile while Logan frowned skeptically, "Come on, just let me try. Just take a deep breath and relax and it will be no problem. Trust me, it'll make you feel a lot better."

Logan sighed, running his hands over his face and then back through his hair as he considered the proposal. He knew whenever Wade was dead set on something it was nearly impossible to talk him out of it so most of the time he wouldn't even waste his breath. And hell, maybe this really would help him feel better.

"Just don't say I didn't warn ya. Absolutely no promises that I won't end up kicking your fucking teeth into your skull. Especially if ya tickle me on purpose."

Wade delivered a goofy salute and scooted around into a better angle to deliver attention to the feet on his thighs.

"I hear you loud and clear, and I sign the waiver releasing you from all responsibility to any injuries I may sustain in the process. I'm not going to try to tickle you though so just get that thought out of your head, okay? Gonna start off super slow here."

First Wade wrapped a hand around each foot and just held them there, not moving and attempting to get Logan used to the physical contact. Though as soon as the hands were placed on his feet Logan's muscles immediately tensed again.

He tried to do as Wade instructed and will his body to calm itself as he took some deep inhales and exhales and tried to force the muscles in his legs to loosen up. 

"You doing alright there, buddy?"

"I'm....I don't know yet. Just get on with it. The anticipation is killing me the most here," Logan shook his head, trying to put his mind outside of his body and not focus on the touching too much. For a man with heightened senses though that was easier said than done.

"Hmm eager, are we? I would be too if I were in your place. My fingers are positively magic. Sorry I don't have any of my massage oils here though," Wade's fingers gently moved around and started slowly kneading at the balls of his feet as Logan breathed deeply and clenched his jaw to keep a straight face.

"It's fine. Would probably make it worse, honestly."

"You're so dramatic. But so far so good, right? How about this....?" He held both sides of one foot and firmly pulled the flesh out in opposite directions repeatedly before doing the same to the other foot. 

He hadn't heard a peep from the other man and looked over to see a grin had fought its way onto his face while he had also closed his eyes in an attempt to focus on something else.

"Remember to breath, big guy. Isn't this nice?" He then cradled the top of Logan's right foot with one hand and begin rubbing his thumb in small circles into the arch, prompting the foot to instantly be yanked from his grasp along with a loud snort from the Wolverine.

Logan shook off the shiver that had just shot up his spine and looked up to find Wade smiling at him in amusement before beckoning forward with his hand.

"Don't fuckin' give me that look. Ya know I can't help it," the feral mutant muttered sheepishly and offered back his withdrawn foot.

"Aw c'mon, you can't tell me that doesn't feel good at least a little?" Wade smirked and repeated the same technique he had just been doing as Logan forced himself not to pull away this time and instead just let out some of the giggles that he'd been holding back. It actually did feel good in a maddening sort of way.

"Kkkk-Kinda-ehehehehehehee. Buhut it st-still tihihiiickles," his body was squirming now, his feet twitching under Wade's hands as he fought to get control of himself.

"You know being ticklish is more mind over matter. So tell yourself that you aren't ticklish, and you won't be," the merc tried to offer what he thought was some solid advice, but Logan simply scoffed at it

"Bullshit," Logan had a few more giggles slip past his clenched teeth, "Don't thihink I wouldn't have alreheheheady tried thaahaat?"

"It's all about willpower. I'm not saying it's easy, but it's definitely possible. Not that I'd ever want you to stop being one bit less ticklish," Wade now used the tips of his fingers to drag his blunt nails down the lengths of both soles.

"Gaahaah!" Logan had not been expecting the sharper sensations and almost went through the roof as he jerked his feet back with his knees nearly hitting himself in the chest, "Goddammit! You wanna get kicked?! No tickling!"

"I'm not tickling. I'm simply waking up your nerves to increase the effectiveness of the massage. It's a legit method, look it up," Wade gave a smug little smirk at this loophole he'd found while receiving a skeptical glare in return.

"Trust me, they're awake. You can skip that one, alright?"

"No worries Peanut, I gotcha," Wade nodded, sitting up straight and patting his lap before holding his hands out expectedly, "Now if you would, please resume the position." 

Logan hesitated with his brow piqued while internally questioning the sincerity of the man before him.

"You gonna be nice?"

Wade mocked a face of offense, placing a hand over his heart.

"Moi? How could you even say that? You know I'm always nice. Now let me finish what I started here. It's not gonna be as good if you don't let me complete the process."

Logan took another moment to consider the situation as he carefully weighed his options. He could decline and go back to sulking while Wade just pesters him the whole time about why he should let him complete the massage, or he could just skip all that hassle and allow Wade to continue now.

Wade smirked in victory as Logan reluctantly returned his feet to his lap and sat back in resignation with his arms crossed over his chest.

"That's a good boy. I'll try something a little different this time. Maybe what you need is a firmer touch," Wade now made a fist and used his knuckles to knead into the balls of his feet with a twisting motion as he went along, using his other hand to hold the feet stable. 

He thought it was succeeding in not causing a ticklish sensation, but seconds later Logan's legs tensed up again while he started letting out little growls to conceal the more embarrassing sounds. Wade only laughed softly and shook his head in amusement.

"Serious question, did any of your enemies know you're this ticklish? Not that I can picture you being in a tickle fight with the likes of Sabretooth. Mmm, potential fanfic idea. Gotta remember to jot that one down in my diary."

"Of course they dihihihidn't," a few giggles slipped out as Logan could feel the electricity running up his legs, transforming into his upper body squirming about, "I d-don't advertise it. Hehehe, watch it."

Wade's knuckles were rolling along his arch at this point.

"Well, you certainly dodged a bullet there, compadre. If they all knew how easily you fall apart from being tickled then you'd be the biggest liability ever! Every villain in the MCU would want to get their hands on you to get you spilling all that top-secret information and most well-guarded secrets," he grabbed all the toes on one foot and stretched them back while applying pressure with his thumb underneath the ball of the foot to rub tight circles.

"Th-That's-That's nohot truhue," Logan sputtered in response to the new technique being used, "I wohohohouldn't break. Besides, they prefeheher hehehehe-hurting me and mahahahaking me bleeheeheed."

"Maybe, but they know using pain against you is useless, you little masochist. They need to explore alternative methods. You think I'm bad? Well you haven't seen real tickle torture, my naive honey badger. I'm only capable of getting you in maybe two spots at once. But them? They would tickle you everywhere. All. At. The. Same. Time. Guarantee you'd be a straight goner."

A foot gave him a harsh kick in the ribs.

"Wihihill you shuhuhut up alreheheady?! That ihihisn't hehehelping," Logan snorted and put his hands over his face, giggling behind them as he slumped down on the couch and tried to clear those disturbing images from his head, "You-You almohohost dohohone?!"

Wade chuckled at his success in managing to fluster the complete fuck out of Logan.

"Not quite. This might take a while. We've got a lot of ground to cover here. Hmm, another question. Now I could be wrong, but haven't I seen these puppies in a Tarantino movie?"

"The fuhuhuck are yoohoou tahalkin' about?!" Logan removed his hands from his face to give Wade a disturbed look, his expression making Wade giggle himself.

"Just making idle conversation. Oof. Not only big, but heavy too," he held one foot up under the heel in his palm as he took in the weight before setting it back down to firmly squeeze the heel now, giving Logan a small breather.

"It's the ahaha-adamantium, dumbass. My-heehehehe-whole body is pretty muhuhuch a deadly weapon."

"Is that right? Ah yes, I see it now," Wade smirked as he simultaneously pinched the first and fifth toes and gently tugged on them, watching how his foot immediately cringed and wiggled to escape, "They sure look pretty threatening to me."

"W-Wait! Nohohoo!" Logan snorted and snickered uncontrollably, trying to sink further into the couch cushions with his arms wrapped tightly around his midsection, "Not the dahahahamn tohohohoes!"

His toes flinched away and curled under protectively, but Wade continued pulling them one by one from their hiding spots to stretch them out. It reminded Logan of the times he'd been drunk and the merc decided to be an asshole and tease him by playing 'This Little Piggy' with him.

"No? Oh, but I must. The toes are an important part, and they deserve just as much attention as the rest of the foot, if not more. A lot of tension can be alleviated through them, and you, my fine Wolvie, are very very tense," Wade grinned as he attempted to massage the stem of one stretched out toe, receiving a dirty guffaw as the foot immediately twisted out of his hold.

"GWAHaha! Fuhuck off my toes!"

"Hey, I'm just trying things. But fine, no more toes. I'm absolutely positive that you're really going to love this next one though," he went to his other foot, grasping both sides with his thumbs on the soles and starting at the ball of the foot he squeezed one side at a time back and forth in a see-saw type motion as he worked his way down the foot.

"Sh-Shit! Ahahaheeheehee! No waahaay thahahaaat's a real mahahahaha-massahahahahage tehehechnique!" Logan squeaked out through his laughter that had progressively become impossible to hold back.

"Of course it is. I'm purely a professional and I don't appreciate your ignorant accusations," Wade worked his thumbs more aggressively down the arch, knowing that at this point no matter what he did it was all just relentlessly tickling his friend now.

Logan was practically in a full-blown giggle fit that showed no signs of slowing down, all the while trying his hardest to remain cooperative and allow the unbearable fondling of his ticklish feet.

Wade sighed with a contented smile as he watched his roommate crumble to pieces from what was supposed to be a relaxing massage. At least Logan was undoubtedly no longer thinking about the move from their old apartment, which had been Wade's goal of this whole thing.

His work here was pretty much done, but there was one last thing he needed to do to make it all complete.

"Hehe, alright you win. I guess you really are too ticklish for a foot massage. Spoiler alert, I already knew that. Welp, if you can't beat 'em....," Wade shrugged as he smoothly wrapped up Logan's ankles securely in his arm and started scratching playfully into his soles. 

Logan had been trying so so hard just to bear the feelings of the massage that it took his brain a moment to relay that he was genuinely being tickled now. But once it all finally caught up Logan completely let everything go, throwing his head back in a howl of laughter and pulling with all the strength he had to get free.

"Waahahahahahahaa! Ya fuhuhuhucking dihihihick! Fuhuhuhuhuuuuck!!" Logan squirmed back on the couch while tugging ineffectively at his legs trapped in Wade's vice-like grip. He should have known better than to have thought that this whole massage idea wasn't going to end this way.

Actually, he knew damn well. And yet his dumb ass still let it happen.

"We gave it our best shot, Log. I guess foot massages just aren't happening for a guy with your level of sensitivity. Of course, I'd be more than willing to give it another go sometime," Wade teased while his fingers crawled rapidly back and forth across his delicate arches, making the man yelp and struggle more desperately.

"Nnnnever agahahahahain! Let go! Leggoooohohohoohooo! Heheheeheehee! Nohohot thehehehere! I'll-I'll end yohoohoohoohoou!" Logan snorted uncontrollably between hysterical giggles as he found that he felt no malice towards Wade despite how it may have appeared. He practically surrendered himself to his fate and collapsed against the cushions with his head tilted back in mirth.

Wade glanced behind him over his shoulder to see Logan's face and nearly died from how adorable he looked. His eyes were squinted shut with the crow's feet gathered at the outer corners and his nose wrinkled up to match, his lips pulled back into a gaping smile that revealed his enlarged canine teeth, and his cheeks glowing with a crimson blush that stretched up to his ears, down through his neck and to the bit of chest that Wade could see peeking out of his low cut shirt.

If Wade could keep him looking like this forever then he absolutely would. He was literally addicted to the man's laughter and had been over the moon the day he had discovered how ticklish he was. Even though Logan would hurl a slew of threats at him every time he tickled him, he never once followed through with any of it. Which just made it all the more fun for Wade to mercilessly tease him.

"Awww, does wittle Wolvie have ticklish wittle feet? Have I found the mighty Wolverine's Achilles heel?" He emphasized his metaphor by scratching at a particularly sensitive spot he knew of above Logan's heels. Logan instantly arched up off of the couch and tried using one foot to shield the other as Wade just easily switched between tickling whichever foot was exposed.

"Ahahahahaha! Nooo dohohohon't! Fuhuhuhuhuhuck! Waahaahaade stahahahahap! I cahahan't tahahahaaake ihihihit!"

Wade's favorite part. Where Logan's pride and resolve started to fall apart, and the threats begin transitioning into begging.

"Can you imagine what evil out there would pay to know this information? I could retire as the richest mercenary of all time," Wade smirked as he scribbled at his arches again, making Logan wheeze harshly from the intensity of the sensations.

"You'd behehehetter nohohohohot! If-If-hahahahahaa ya knohohohow whahahahat's goohoohoohoood for you!" He struggled to speak clearly as Wade wasn't letting up.

"I'm just teasing, big boy. I'd never let them have the pleasure. You and your ticklish ass are aaaall mine." 

"Okaay! Okaaahahahay fihihihine! Aahahahahaahahaa! Stohohohop ticklin' meheheheheh! C-Cahahahaaan't breeheeheeeathe!" Logan pleaded as Wade simply tsked and shook his head. If he could still form coherent-ish words then he could still breathe, meaning he wasn't completely done yet.

But Wade knew it was about time to wrap this up as he prepared the grand finale.

"A little courtesy goes a long way, you know? Now say pleeeeease....," Wade grinned deviously as he went in for the kill. His fingers squirmed up under Logan's toes to dig into the highly ticklish crevices that he knew would drive him insane and Logan more than delivered on his reaction.

"PLEASEPLEASENOOOHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAA!! PLEEEHEHEEHEEEHAAHAAHAAHAHAHA!!" Logan laughed wildly out of control with his head thrown back and tears creeping from his eyes, clutching at the couch tightly with the strength to rip the cushions clean in half.

Hearing the Wolverine completely lose his shit always gave Wade that little rush of sadistic glee that made him not ever want to stop, but at this point it was bordering on torture now and that was not Wade's intention of this particular session.

"Oh, so he can be polite. Okay okay, since you said please," Wade released his ankles as promised before an evil idea crossed into his mind.

Before either of them knew what he was doing he snatched up one foot and blew a loud raspberry right into the middle of the arch. Logan's mind went completely blank as he had an out-of-body experience and let out an inhuman screech like Wade had never heard him do before.

Though that moment did not last as Logan's other foot immediately slammed hard into Wade's face with a sickening crack to obliterate the cartilage of his nose as Wade let out a scream and dropped the foot to grab onto his face.

"Aaargghh! My nose! My beautiful nose! Dammit! Awww shit, guess it's back to looking like Ryan Reynolds again."

"You.....You fucking....freak....," Logan breathlessly wheezed as he just stared in amazement at the other man, unable to believe that he had taken it that far, "You tryin'....to get killed?"

Wade grabbed firmly onto his nose and pulled it back into position with another loud crack as he yelped in pain.

"I mean did it really call for that harsh of a reaction though? Couldn't have turned the power down just a little on that adamantium stomper?" Wade gestured to the offending foot as Logan caught his breath back.

"Hey asshole, you were warned. Told ya it was dangerous to tickle my feet. You got what ya fuckin' asked for and I'm not one bit sorry," Logan stated firmly as he swung his feet to the floor to sit more naturally on the couch.

"I'll make sure you're sorry later," Wade muttered under his breath, forgetting that Logan was more than capable of clearly hearing below a whisper.

"The fuck does that mean?"

"Aah! That was supposed to be a secret surprise! Damn you and your ears!" Wade reached over and wiggled a finger into Logan's ear as he grunted in annoyance, but still smiled as he shoved him away

"Fuck offa me, Wilson. I've about had my fill of you for one day."

"Really? That's funny because I don't remember being inside of you. But there's still time to change that," Wade grinned as he put his arm around Logan's shoulders, giving him a suggestive squeeze. Logan's brow arched high as he just stared at Wade's stupidly smirking face.

"Save that for your creepy diary of sick fantasies," Logan shook his head as he ended up smiling again before looking around the empty apartment, "Well....that sure as shit wasn't how I expected my last moments in this place to go." 

"And you're totally welcome. I know you're feeling a lot better now, right?"

Logan growled gently in response, but in no way could deny it. He fucking hated that Wade was right. It seemed to always take the weight off of his mind every time Wade tickled him to tears, and he appreciated it more than Wade would ever know. Because he would rather die before ever admitting that out loud.

"How about a thank you? A kiss on the lips will also suffice," Wade puckered up his lips as he leaned in, but was immediately pushed away.

"How about I cut those lips off if ya don't get them away from me?"

"Well, you know that's never going to happen. Especially since my lips and your tummy have an intimate date scheduled for later," Wade teased before frowning down at the bloodstain on his shirt that had dripped from his nose earlier.

"Always bleeding everywhere. You should probably start wearin' red more," Logan smirked at it being his turn to pick on the other man.

"Yeah duh, that's why my uniform is red. Didn't realize it was going to be an issue around friends though," Wade narrowed his eyes at him as Logan unapologetically shrugged his wide shoulders.

"In my defense, it wasn't a reaction I could control. Ain't the first time that happened either, so ya knew the risks."

"True. But I'll still whine about it next time too," Wade was back to grinning as Logan groaned at the implication of there being a "next time". They managed to sit in silence for a few moments before Logan sighed and started moving.

"Well....guess it's that time," he then leaned over to grab his boots and socks from beside the couch and begin putting them back on.

"Yup, we had better head out. I promised Al I'd pick up something to eat on the way back. I could really go for some sushi myself. You feeling that?

"Sure Wade. Sounds great," Logan nodded as he finished lacing his boots before standing up and walking to the door with Wade trailing behind him. As they reached the front door Logan turned to him and shook his head in disbelief.

"It's strange, you know. I've always been chased out of literally every place I've tried to settle into the past several years. Now I'm leaving this one on my own accord."

"You're not in that universe anymore, big guy. And as long as I have anything to do with it, you'll always have a home. I give you my word. And don't worry, this new place will feel just like home before you know it," Wade smiled and grabbed some of the moving boxes from beside the front door before promptly dropping them as he was pulled into a tight hug.

After getting over the surprise, Wade carefully returned the embrace as Logan sighed heavily into Wade's shoulder while he clung to him.

"Thanks Wade. For everything. I know I don't tell you enough how much I appreciate you, but just know I truly mean it," his eyes were a little watery when he finally pulled back, turning Wade's heart to mush as he smiled and gently patted him on the shoulder.

"The pleasure is all mine, believe me. I hope you know everything in my life is now better because of you, but if you didn't well there it is. So don't think this is all one-sided. Now are you ready to go home, buddy? Let's go break in that new couch we just bought. Feel free to interpret that however you would like."

That broke the serious look on his face as Logan chuckled with a shake of his head and took one last look at their old couch in the middle of the room before turning back to Wade with an utterly contented smile.

"Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go home, Wade."

[neversetyoufree]

I've been thinking lately about Vanitas and Noé's first "what is salvation" fight at the bal masqué and what it means about their individual definitions of the concept, and I've realized something about Vanitas.

Noé's definition of salvation is the obvious one. It feels natural. To save someone is to keep them from dying. But in a way, his understanding of salvation is also almost selfish. Noé's foundational trauma is the constant loss of his loved ones. He is the eternal sole survivor. So of course he wants to keep people alive—he wants to "save" the people he cares about in the way that keeps them by his side this time.

It's not wrong to want that, of course. I don't mean "selfish" as a condemnation. It's just that the definition of salvation that Noé starts the series with is inarguably the one that best serves his own happiness.

And it's the same with Vanitas.

When Vanitas kills the little girl Catherine by restoring her true name, he tells Noé he doesn't know what salvation is. He might be lying there, or he might be telling the truth in that he's never put his definition of salvation into words or acknowledged it on a conscious level. Either way, though, I do think he has a definition of salvation somewhere in his mind, and it's a very personal one.

Vanitas sees salvation as the preservation or restoration of one's true self. You're saved so long as you can preserve your essential self, uncorrupted by outside forces. Even if the price of that selfness is death.

While Noé's foundational trauma that informs his worldview is the loss of his loved ones, one of Vanitas's foundational traumas is the loss of his bodily autonomy. Through Moreau's experiments and Luna's mark/bite, he has been transformed into something no longer fully human, and he hates it. From the moment Luna told him he was dying, he said he wanted to die as himself rather than live as their kin, and he has been denied that opportunity.

Nothing is more important for Vanitas than being able to dictate the destiny of his own body, and malnomen are the ultimate corruption of bodily autonomy and selfness. Altering one's true name warps not only their physical body, but their very being on a metaphysical level. The curse takes everything a vampire is and changes it, and doing that to an unwilling victim is the ultimate horror for Vanitas.

Given that context, of course Vanitas thinks that killing a child to restore her true name counts as saving her. He's restoring her essential self and un-corrupting her body and being, and even if her self is only returned for an instant before she dies, it's preferable to living on as something warped by an outside force.

Vanitas absolutely starts the series with a definition of salvation, and like Noé, it's the one that best serves his own happiness. He wants to be saved. He wants to be returned to his human self, and failing that (since he knows it's impossible), he wants to wipe out all traces of the force that changed him and then die without going any further down the path of inhumanity.

Vanitas might not be able to admit that definition out loud (or even to himself directly), but it's there, and it guides him early in the series as much as Noé's own definition of salvation guides him in turn.

[nyoomerr]

i've spoken about this in a couple discord chats already but the idea of a binggeyuan frieren au is so so tasty and yet there is no fucking way i am ever going to attempt it bc i just KNOW it would be sad in order to be good

the idea of bingge traveling alongside frail mortal shen yuan for some years, watching the way sy interacts with the world, letting sy coax him into using his immense power to help save some group of people (or beasts, or whatever strikes sy's fancy). bingge goes along mostly for amusement - life gets quite boring, when you're as old and powerful as he is - and at the end of everything he goes his own way without thinking twice.

later - much, much later - bingge thinks that things have gotten quite boring again, and he wants to go find the little mortal that had amused him for some years.

the little mortal is dead.

bingge is furious, of course. he hasn't allowed anyone to deny him anything for centuries now, and he hasn't had to actually deal with a mortal's death in nearly as long for the way he surrounds himself with other powerful demons and cultivators. the solution is simple, though: bingge will simply resurrect shen yuan.

but since shen yuan has been dead for years at this point, there is no body to easily restore, and in this au there wouldn't be so many convenient resurrection tools in this universe to begin with. it would turn into the whole frieren-esque adventure, perhaps with bingge picking up a kid that shen yuan had been mentoring before his death - perhaps one of bingge's own neglected kids, in fact, that shen yuan had picked up in part bc he missed bingge.

and as bingge adventures onwards towards a miracle resurrection tool, he'll occasionally run into situations that could easily be solved through pure power and callousness, and he... won't. he'll think about the way sy would scold him for being cruel, and he'll sulk and throw tantrums but in the end he'll avoid whatever the easy but cruel option was. the journey will take far longer for bingge than it necessarily would have to, because the goal of the journey has put sy at the front of his mind and now he can't stop thinking about all the stupid ""lessons"" sy had tried to give him.

and this is why i could not write this au: the most fitting ending i can think of for this au would be that the only way to resurrect shen yuan would be through some horrific sacrifice of hundreds of other innocent lives, and bingge would choose not to do it.

it would make him furious - it would drive him to the edge of qi deviation, to the edge of declaring some stupid pointless war just so he can work out his anger and get those innocent souls to resurrect shen yuan anyway. but he wouldn't. this whole slow adventure has reminded him bit by bit of just why he'd spent so long following that foolish little mortal shen yuan around, of the way that living a kinder life had felt so relaxing after years of constantly being ready to spill blood at a moment's notice.

shen yuan would be so disappointed in bingge if he choose that method of resurrection, and so bingge can't do it. bingge would be unsatisfied with that method of resurrection, just because he'd know sy would dislike it.

shen yuan stays dead, but his memory haunts bingge for the rest of his nearly immortal life, and bingge ever so slowly shapes himself into what that memory was.