#and like.....whats the point of paying the stupid amount that i do for internet if im not even using it 🙃🙃🙃

[starlightkun]

finally had to buy a new phone 🤢🤢 spending money 🤢🤢🤢

[livelaughpeg]

I'm writing this from a throwaway account, because you know...Scientology.

I want to preface this post by saying I am not one of those "I knew it all along!" people. I can't stand that attitude. I was pretty ambivelant towards Neil Gaiman. Prior to the allegations, I didn't hate him but I wasn't that interested in him as a person either. I don't think you can always tell when someone is a bad or good person simply by the topics they write about. If that was the case we'd be arresting every horror writer on earth.

But one thing that did always rub me up the wrong way was the way he talked about getting work.

I borrowed and read "Make Good Art" (a small book based on a speech he gave to graduates at the University of the Arts) at a time in my life that I was really struggling to get by (I still am to some extent, but in a different way). I expected to see some practical advice. Instead it was a bunch of glib shit like:

I got out into the world, I wrote, and I became a better writer the more I wrote, and I wrote some more, and nobody ever seemed to mind that I was making it up as I went along, they just read what I wrote and they paid for it, or they didn’t, and often they commissioned me to write something else for them. Looking back, I’ve had a remarkable ride. I’m not sure I can call it a career, because a career implies that I had some kind of career plan, and I never did. The nearest thing I had was a list I made when I was 15 of everything I wanted to do: to write an adult novel, a children’s book, a comic, a movie, record an audiobook, write an episode of Doctor Who… and so on. I didn’t have a career. I just did the next thing on the list.

Life is sometimes hard. Things go wrong, in life and in love and in business and in friendship and in health and in all the other ways that life can go wrong. And when things get tough, this is what you should do. Make good art. I’m serious. Husband runs off with a politician? Make good art. Leg crushed and then eaten by mutated boa constrictor? Make good art. IRS on your trail? Make good art. Cat exploded? Make good art. Somebody on the Internet thinks what you do is stupid or evil or it’s all been done before? Make good art. Probably things will work out somehow, and eventually time will take the sting away, but that doesn’t matter. Do what only you do best. Make good art.

Yeah, well, no shit. If you're a writer or artist you probably do anyway. Whether you get paid for it or not, whether you draw fan art or original art. But the point of Gaiman's speech was to give advice to people who wanted to be paid for their art. To make a career of it. Making art every day isn't always enough. You have to pay the damn rent, you have to eat, you have to network and do social media and promote yourself, and you have to do it while thousands of other people are doing the same thing in a massive crowd of people who want the same thing. Practical advice is much more valuable than platitudes and theory.

I am not a writer, I'm an illustrator, and let me tell you that for most people, 'getting your foot in the door' isn't a one time thing. Quite often you have to work at getting your foot in the door again and again until you become established, and it's very easy to be forgotten. I still feel like I'm in that stage now.

I watched my peers, and my friends, and the ones who were older than me and watch how miserable some of them were: I’d listen to them telling me that they couldn’t envisage a world where they did what they had always wanted to do any more, because now they had to earn a certain amount every month just to keep where they were. They couldn’t go and do the things that mattered, and that they had really wanted to do; and that seemed as a big a tragedy as any problem of failure.

The implication was that he was successful because he wrote every day and his friends weren't because they didn't, because you know, working a second job is tiring. He called this a tragedy, but there was something very glib about the way he narrated this.

I think someone had more financial cushion that he was letting on.

And yes, sometimes it does work that way, (some people are very lucky and make all the right connections) but Gaiman was getting Big Jobs right off the bat and something about that never smelt right to me after the way he talked about it.

And then I saw Jeff's tweets. Oh, that's why...

I suspect the truth is he was living off his family's money and connections, and while I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with that if you're a struggling artist, his family are Scientologists, and I don't think he ever struggled.

I suspect it's all a lie.

[sciderman]

You said you get more asks here instead of Ask-Spiderpool

Does that mean there's presently no asks? Or you have an Itty bitty backlog,,

honestly the amount of asks I get on ask-spiderpool is so, so paltry and sad at the moment that i can barely scrape together any motivation for it because there’s No inspiration coming in. which is kind of the point of an ask blog lads. conversation. it is Not a one-sided thing !!

sure, there’s a backlog but those are like, pantry items. I need fresh fruit and vegetables or I’ll die of scurvy

anyone who tells me “I want to start an ask blog” I immediately say “in this economy? don’t bother. you won’t even last a day.” I’m hanging on for grim death here .

it’s not about numbers. you’re more than numbers. you should be more than numbers, so please. act like more than numbers. please. don’t you want to be more than numbers? every time someone talks to me and I respond back they seem Shocked to find out I’m actually a human or whatever. why are you guys like that. of course I want to be talked to. any human wants to be talked to. so talk to me!! I’m as lonely and nerdy and pitiful as the rest of you. I’m here because I want friends. so please, be friends. I don’t need numbers. I need friends.

it’s so not about numbers. I still get thousands of notes or whatever,, more notes than before, even, but you’re all so passive now that it’s depressing. I miss when ask-blogging felt like a community,, and that’s Why I did started, and why I kept on for so long… sighs. I feel like everything’s been reduced to numbers. I don’t know how anyone can be happy with just numbers. numbers are so cold and unsexy. numbers do not tickle my pickle at all. (no sir)

I feel like the human element of everything I do is kind of slowly diminishing and I’m looking around at the wasteland like,, where did all the people go. not just here. everywhere. so I’ve been diving into career things again and having success with it, but I don’t want that to be my lifeline. it was my lifeline pre-covid and I don’t want it to be my lifeline again. I’m good at it, but I miss real people with real gratitude and excitement. not just people paying a pay check for my services. I never, never want what I do to just feel like an exchange of goods for like, money. or numbers. those things have No Soul. They’re not a substitute for what I actually look for when I create anything. and what I actually look for is Conversation. (which doesn’t cost you much, can you believe!)

it’s so funny how when I said I’m planning on quitting (which I don’t want to do, but I’m kind of being forced to do because I mean. how can one keep on running an ask-blog with no asks) I got a very big response here saying “noooo don’t do it” and it's sweet - it's really sweet, and appreciated, and warmed the heart but - again. no asks on the actual blog. so.

if you want ask-spiderpool to actually live on, there’s something so very simple and free (does not cost you money) that you can do! three guesses as to what that might be

I have so, so many plans and posts and scripts but I’m not writing into thin air,, man. why should I keep doing a stupid thing like that. what happened to us, that we’ve stopped communicating with creators because we’ve forgotten that wait a second ,, they share things on the internet because they want other people to interact with them. artists are the neediest guys on the internet. they need people to survive. I’m not going to keep on pretending I’m above it all and I’m cooler than that. I’m not cool, and an ask blog needs asks. you can’t expect it to keep going on without them.

so freaking . leave a kiss. leave a comment. stop just leaving a like and disappearing into that goodnight . I hate you all.

anyway. love you. kisses.

[thecaffeinebookwarrior]

Tbh I'm at a point where I think everyone should write whatever they want forever and we shouldn't worry about Mary Sues. Who cares, let's have fun in the sandbox

I agree, everyone should write what they want! It is ultimately an act of passion, and everyone has total creative liberty over what they produce.

However, not all writing is intended to be interacted with the same way.

A work of fanfiction or an original story that someone shares for free is different, for example, than a book you have to buy or a film you have to pay to watch. The purpose of reviews for products are not just to support the author, but to guide other prospective readers and viewers about how they'll spend their money and time.

As an author, there's also a difference between a hobbyist and a professional. I'm both! I write for fun, and I've published writing for money. I also have an MFA in Creative Writing.

I would consider it rude if someone offered unsolicited criticism of writing or art I made available for free, but when a paying publisher accepts my stories, I expect them to offer edits to make it as good as it can be for the consumption of the public.

Similarly, if I were in a critique session with my MFA peers, I'd be annoyed if they told me to just have fun without offering any other feedback. As you can see, the context changes whether writing is appropriate to criticize, and whether criticisms should be expected.

Hollywood studios should also be held to an especially high standard, I think, because of the amount of money that is channeled into funding their films, and the amount of money they charge from the public.

Now, about the term Mary Sue.

Many already know that "Mary Sue" is a satirical term, originating in a parody fanfiction from a Star Trek fan magazine, and I don't think it was ever meant to be treated as a serious literary criticism. There's also a male equivalent - the Gary Stu - but it's seldom used, and the term remains disproportionately geared towards female characters.

I don't dislike characters because they're "Mary Sues," I dislike characters because they're poorly written. And I have a pet peeve when a portion of the internet reactively claims a character is well-written simply to defend them from accusations of being a Mary Sue.

Again, this is usually in regards to big budget Hollywood movies or shows, like Captain Marvel, the 2016 Ghostbusters, She-Hulk, or what have you. The criticisms against these movies were often bad, and came from misogynistic viewpoints - but that doesn't mean these movies and shows are good. And I would have been doing myself a disservice if I overlooked their flaws simply because misogynists also didn't like them.

I think Hollywood studios often hide behind superficially strong female characters to shield themselves from criticism, and avoid having to write female characters who are actually original, complex, and interesting.

(Again, this is all just my opinion. Anyone is welcome to like the above properties! I like tons of things that could be considered questionable.)

So, to conclude: yes, everyone deserves to have fun with writing! It is usually inappropriate and rude to offer unsolicited criticism of art that is available for free. But Hollywood films and traditionally published writing that we pay money to access are not the same as free art that's shared only for passion and fun.

And last but not least, calling a character a Mary Sue is usually a stupid criticism, but not every character who is accused of being a Mary Sue is a good character!

Just my thoughts on the matter, which I'm obviously more than eager to babble about for a good half hour.

[multimuseticles]

You know... I've been drawing ever since I was like 5 years old. It's something I've spent pretty much my entire life doing. The longest I'd ever really go without drawing is like a couple of months maybe, and lately I've been drawing on an almost near daily basis. But if I'm being honest, I'm fairly close to actually quitting.

I still love to draw and I don't really want to stop, but it's getting to a point where AI slop is just entirely taking over the internet. Finding even reference images these days is so difficult because google is filled with AI crap and a lot of actual art sites allow AI art(looking at you Pixiv and DeviantArt).

I used to get a couple of commissions a month just a few years ago. Then covid hit and I got a little less work because people didn't exactly have the same amount of money to spend, which makes perfect sense. But getting closer to the end of covid when people could actually go back to work etc, AI decided to creep its head up and now I'm lucky to get one commission every few months. Originally, AI art was laughable and it was only able to make really stupid shit that was basically illegible. Like that Dall-e thing.

Putting the rest under a read more because it's somewhat long.

But nowadays, a lot of people prefer to use AI than give actual artists attention. Especially now that a lot of big companies are pushing their own AI crap(looking at you Adobe and Meta). Instagram used to be a great place for artists, now its filled with AI crap that Instagram seems to fucking love and is basically training their AI on your own posts. They say you can opt out, but if you live in the USA? You seemingly can't. In the EU you can because of laws, so I was able to opt out. However. I don't trust Meta not to train off my shit anyway.

Then you've got Adobe, which y'know, was a thing for artists to create stuff, be that through Photoshop, Illustrator or even their video editors. But now they're just pushing their lame AI crap to do everything for you, and still charge a ridiculous amount for their service.

Now I'm not just complaining because I'm getting less work. It's just depressing that creativity is dying. Generative AI is being used in video games, movies, tv shows, music, youtube videos, voiceovers and pretty much EVERYTHING else. It's impossible to avoid these days. Sites that allow AI but ask you to tag it so people can hide it doesn't work either, because people just don't tag that shit.

Due to all this AI crap, artists are being accused of using AI to create their art, regardless of if they show proof or not. It hasn't happened to me yet, but I feel it's inevitable simply because I absolutely suck at drawing hands and I can just barely get the hang of them most of the time. A ton of actual artists have been essentially bullied to the point where they don't post their art online anymore, or are forced to change their art style.

It's so much harder for artists to get their work out there anymore because AI is taking over all of these sites so the majority of the stuff you see is generated bullshit. It has led to people being like "Why would I pay someone to do this when I can just write a prompt and get what I want in seconds?" and no matter what you say to people with this line of thought, they just do not give a single shit.

I'm fine with AI to an extent. I think it's fine to just use it for dumb shit between friends, or helping to get a design idea for an OC or something. But the moment you start making money from AI or posting it online and claiming it as your own(and saying that people should credit you if you used it???) is the moment I think it's not okay. Have you seen Facebook or Twitter lately? Filled with really messed up AI images and AI responses. Facebook is rampant with weird and disturbing looking AI generated images and Twitter is 90% bots these days.

This whole post was spurred on by a conversation I saw between two of my friends. One of my friends wanted to get into graphic design, and being the artist of the group and having experience in graphic design, he came to me for advice. He got some very basic stuff done and he was really proud of it. He was showing some of the stuff he made to our other friend who simply responded with an AI generation of the same thing saying "Just use AI man, it's quicker and looks better." It was super depressing to see, especially since I've had conversations about how much I hate generative AI with these same friends.

So at this point I'm on the edge of just stopping. I probably won't, but I'm starting to lose motivation because I feel like there is no safe place to upload my art anymore. Will I stop? Probably not, but the temptation is there. I dunno, fuck generative AI man.

Sorry for the long ass rant, but I'm just getting so fed up with this crap.

[garyroachsanderson]

Task 141 best friend headcanon, celebrating readers birthday please ??

i’m going to assume it’s your birthday now or soon, so happy birthday you and everyone else who’s birthday it is!!!! 🎉

141 BEST FRIENDS HEADCANONS - BIRTHDAY EDITION

GHOST

i don’t think this man has ever forgotten anything in his entire life, but he’s probably a procrastinator, and he remembers at the worst time.

for example, in the middle of a heated fight after killing the enemy, he’ll see something that reminds him of you and be like “fuck”

quickly runs to a shop once everyone is asleep. he’d probably buy you a necklace, or a plushie or something you love (he doesn’t really understand the hype around plushes, but he knows you like them)

if they’re stationed in america, he’d probably drive to a walmart or something and browse the guns aisle

he wraps the gift very shittily but leaves it on your nightstand for when you wake up

he doesn’t really care about how expensive it is, he’ll probably mumble a ‘mitherin-’ at the price but it just makes him happy to see you happy

if the gift was apparel it makes him very happy to see you wearing it

probably wouldn’t do anything other than that tho he’d maybe brood on the sidelines while the rest get drunk for your birthday

SOAP

does the shopping MONTHS in advance. occasionally you’ll reference something you like and he’s like “fuck i should’ve bought that”

before buying he consulted with the rest of the team on what to buy and just spoke nonstop for 5 minutes until ghost called him a not so nice word

puts time and effort into choosing a wrapping paper that looks like something you’d like and tops it off with a plastic shiny bow

would buy you a real gift but top it off with a terrible gag gift on top. fake vomit ahoy

party planner CEO. even if you’re in the military he’s gonna fucking make sure the current base has streamers on the walls

yes, he packed two MREs that were little cakes with confetti sprinkles in them. why do you ask

overall, he makes the best of a shit situation. would probably both get plastered partying and then he’d haul you to bed

PRICE

“gaz what do people your age like”

he buys you a flip phone (unwrapped) that was made in the ripe year of 2007 (he doesn’t know you have a phone)

it’s the thought that counts

USE IT…

would be very happy when he sees you using it

would treat the force to a night out at a bar (everyone pays for their drinks but you get them on the house)

GAZ

he’d buy something related to something you said you liked 4 months ago

this man is up to date on the internet.. probably buys you a terrible shirt of the current meme or one that died 8 months ago for shits and giggles

knows your favorite bands (he saw your ipod once and noticed your favorite song had 3450 plays) so he bought some merchandise of that band for you

gets stupid drunk and then does stupid shit on your name

“this one’s for y/n” he yelps as he tries to dunk a piece of paper through a basketball hoop but doesn’t get 4 feet off the ground and falls

i’m going to be honest he probably wouldn’t shy away from buying internet currency points

ROACH

TIME and EFFORT

he goes out shopping and buys you decorations for your quarters, new gloves, stickers

would plan a surprise party much to the dismay of everyone else. i mean every party is a surprise party when ghost suddenly appears

he would stick a bunch of candles (the right amount) in a sock we don’t have cake

now of course since you’re in the military a surprise party is perhaps not a great idea. when they turned the lights on and everyone popped up you almost took everyone off the census

you didn’t though! yay

probably the only one who doesn’t get drunk because he’s too young for that

still a cute little birthday

[iwishicanbeagoodpianist]

the Wifilcon and the Winter Router Chapter 2: Customer Service

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC/Reader Summary: When Bucky learns that his neighbor has been stealing his wifi for months. Warnings: None A/N: I’m not a fanfic writer at all, this, like all my stories, are adaptations to fanfics. My original stories are not written in english, so this is also a translation. please do not repost my work

Chapter 1

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

-"Sir, are the front lights on the router on or not?"-

-"Uh, yes, I think so, there are too many lights, all blinking."-

Bucky, once again, was facing the demonic device that, at this moment, he’d rather throw out the window without looking back. How is it possible that I’m doing one of the things I hate most in life, talking to other people, all because I need to know how the fight between Diego and his evil twin ends and who finally wins Alfonsina's love?

While Bucky continues his internal dialogue about the 8 o’clock soap opera (he can actually watch it anytime, but he regularly decides to watch it at 8) and how he hates his life at this moment, he hears the customer service lady sigh, whom he vaguely recalls is named Sara, with whom he’s been speaking for an exhausting (for both of them) 20 minutes. With this amount of wasted time, I could have already thrown this device out and gone to buy a new one. Without having to talk to anyone, 10 minutes max, timing clocks and all. Stupid piece of junk…

Bucky’s thoughts are interrupted again by Sara or Susana, I’m sure it was something with an S…

-"Sir, can you describe what you see right now?"-

-"A piece of junk?… I mean, I mean, a rectangle with two antennas…"-

-"Sir, I mean the lights, the colors, if they’re blinking or not…"-

Is it possible to be more idiotic? Bucky is sure he can read the thoughts of… uh… Sofia?

-"Yes, yes, of course,"- Bucky stammers, trying to focus since this conversation started, -"there’s a green light with an image that looks like a circle, then there are some curved lines that the light is blinking…"-

Before Bucky could finish describing each part of the router like a 5-year-old to… to… Sasha? he hears the front door open, and it’s none other than the main person who got him into this problem, and by problem we mean the addiction to telenovelas on Nitflix, Notflex… Netflox?? Whatever, his dreaded and somewhat appreciated neighbor from the next-door apartment.

-"What do you think you’re doing??? The internet’s been down for over 30 minutes."-

The cheeky comment comes, not only is she using the internet for free. Not really, she pays for the… Netflex? account and he pays for the internet, it’s not a fair agreement, but she also makes him dinner on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and on Sundays she makes waffles for breakfast, his favorite, something he never plans to tell her even if he’s kidnapped again and tortured.

-"That’s what I’m trying to fix,"- Bucky replies exasperatedly, because let’s be honest, he’s nowhere near fixing the problem, he hasn’t been able to sit down to rest since he got back this morning from his last mission and discovered his stupid internet wasn’t working and he’s been talking for over 20 minutes now with… with… Samantha? whom he’s sure wishes she were unemployed right now living with her parents again rather than dealing with his over 100-year-old ass for 5 more minutes.

-"Don’t be silly, you just need to unplug and replug it and it’ll be fixed…"- Your adorable neighbor, adorably annoying, hadn’t finished saying those words when she automatically took the plug out of the wall just like that. All the lights on the router went out at the same time, just like Bucky’s brain.

-"Sir, are you still there…?"- At this point, Samantha, or Sierra, sounds distant as if she were part of Bucky’s conscience. But really it’s just because he very intelligently moved the phone away from his ear in shock after seeing his neighbor very casually walk to the kitchen and open the fridge.

-"You have to wait about 30 seconds before plugging everything back in and… what’s wrong with you?"- She asks when she turns to look at him again with a carton of juice in her hand. I should check if that’s still good, when was the last time I went grocery shopping? God, I just want to sleep for 12 straight hours. Bucky’s brain also needs 30 seconds to react.

-"What are you doing here? Today is Tuesday, you should be at work."-

-"I’m sick."-

-"I don’t see you looking very sick."-

-"That’s because you’re too in love with me to notice how bad I look."-

A thud is heard, Bucky unsure if what sounded was his stomach dropping or the phone he was holding, his brain automatically rebooted, at the same time as his now-neighbor, soon-to-be victim, approaches him.

-"W-w-what are you doing??"- Is that music coming from my head? How hard did they hit me today? She, without stopping and looking straight at him, gradually gets closer to him, and that’s when he starts to notice, the red cheeks, the unkempt hair, the exaggerated layers of clothing, the glassy eyes. She really is sick. And without thinking, because let’s be honest, Bucky hasn’t managed to string a coherent thought in the last hour, he says: "It’s true, you look like crap." Just like that, without anesthesia, without a prior psychological evaluation that confirmed Bucky was not fit to live alone, much less interact with other human beings in a normal and civilised manner.

And now a thud is heard, as if someone had slapped their forehead and a sigh of exasperation. Did that sound come from my phone?

But before he could keep thinking about how possibly his love life is now the 8 o’clock soap opera in the customer service office, which for some reason hasn’t ended the call yet. Bucky reacts to these words:

-"I just wanted to reconnect the internet, to go off sick and horrible somewhere else."-

And in a matter of seconds, the lights on the router start blinking again, Bucky’s computer makes a sound indicating it’s connected to the internet again and Bucky’s heart starts racing uncontrollably when he sees his neighbor, firm to her previous statement, grab the juice, which she not-so-politely stole from his fridge, and walks quickly to the door.

-"I’m taking this as payment for being an idiot,"- and with those words, she closes the door behind her.

Bucky stopped breathing, thinking, well, he hasn’t thought correctly in the last 24 hours, he can’t coordinate words or string the necessary letters to call her name, he just stays there, with the blinking lights of his brain that can’t find the connection with his mouth. He was going to spend a full 40 minutes there when he hears his conscience shouting from afar:

-"HELLO??? Sir??? Are you stupid or what??? Go after her right now and apologize!"- It’s not his conscience, it’s… it’s… Selena? From his phone on the floor, the customer service agent was shouting at him and not very kindly expressing what she’s been thinking since the call started. I really am an idiot, nothing new here.

In an act of, not very sure how to explain what, Bucky picks up the phone from the floor, brings it to his ear and asks in an anguished voice:

-"Scarlet? Are you there? God, what have I done? What am I supposed to do now? How do I fix this? I’m just a 100-year-old person, I’m rusty, it’s not my fault."-

And in whispers from the other line like: -"Who the hell is Scarlet? 100 years old??, god this guy has serious issues."- A clearing of the throat is heard and the following words:

-"Sir, the best thing you can do is go and apologize, be sincere, I’m sure she already knows you’re an idiot and likes you anyway."-

-"She likes me?"-

-"I hope you leave the best note in the customer satisfaction survey."-

-"Yes, yes,"- customer satisfaction survey???? what the hell?

-"Well, no girl would be that vulnerable in front of you, I mean, she came to your apartment sick to help you and also dropped that hint, not subtle in my opinion, that you’re in love with her. There are only two options: either she’s really sick and the fever makes her delusional…"-

Bucky is heard whispering,-"delusional?"-

-"Sir, please, let me finish, or she likes you and was helping you take the first step."-

-"Okay, I understand."-

-"Sir, do you like her yes or no?"-

-"No, I mean, yes, only on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays when we have dinner together and the food is really good, on Tuesdays and Thursdays I only see her in the morning before leaving, but she accompanies me to buy coffee at the bakery across the street, she takes it very sweet, that’s not good for her health, but she never listens to me. On Saturdays she passes by the park where I always go running, and on the way back she gives me a bottle of water before going to her parents’ house. Sundays are waffle days and it’s the best day because everything is so quiet and peaceful and we just eat and watch TV, sometimes we talk about what happened during the week, but most of the time we’re just… together… peaceful. But I don’t just like her sometimes…"-

-"Sir, I don’t think you’ve said this much dialogue in the entirety of this fanfic or in the history of any fanfic… so I think it’s clear that you like her…."-

"Fanfic?" Bucky whispers, -"what the hell…?"-

-"Doesn’t matter now, sir, the important thing is to put your pants on and go find her right now."-

-"But I already have pants on…"-

-"Shut up, hang up the call, fill out the survey and go hug your girlfriend, god!"-

-"Thanks… uh… Sabrina?"-

-"My name is Amanda, sir…"-

-"Oh."-

-"Just go, have a good day…"- and before hanging up you hear the murmur of I’m going to pretend the last 45 minutes never happened…

-"Thanks… you too…"- but Amanda had already ended the call. Automatically a sound is heard and a female voice starts saying: -"Please rate your agent from 1 to 10… 1 being…"-

Without waiting for the answering machine to finish, hurriedly heading out the door to try to fix his stupidity, Bucky says:

-"10! 10!! The best service, please give Amanda a raise, she deserves it, give her more vacation too, everything, thank you, thank you."-

[happi-tree]

don't kiss and tell

“Can you get off me, please?” Lincoln deadpans instead, jostling Taylor on his back a bit. “Wanna stand up.”

“Hmmmmm, on one condition,” Taylor muses slyly. His jet black hair gleams with sweat under the scattered fluorescents, and stray strands tickle the side of Lincoln’s neck as Taylor leans in even closer. 

“Remove my makeup for me?” He shakes the package of makeup wipes for emphasis, and Lincoln glances over his shoulder to see Taylor’s trademarked doe-eyed look, complete with batting lashes and pouting lips. 

Or: After a long, tiring concert set, Lincoln helps Taylor backstage. One thing leads to another, and he gets a little more than he bargained for.

ao3

Hi, guys! Guess who's back with one more Swiftli fic to finish off 2023! I've had this idea kicking around in my docs (and my wip posts lmao) since July and figured it was high time to polish it up haha. Enjoy some very, very self-indulgent idol au Swiftlis below the cut!

“Liiiiiiincoln,” A familiar voice whines behind him.

Lincoln hums questioningly without turning around - he’s a bit preoccupied with tidying up their group’s shared dressing room. 

Sure, they’ll be performing their set here tomorrow night as well, but it never hurts to make sure everything is in its place so he can at least attempt at mitigating the chaos that is bound to unfold. That, and he doesn’t want to cause the staff any excess trouble.

“Liiiiiiiink,” Taylor prods again, and Lincoln can hear the exaggerated dragging steps his groupmate is taking toward him. “I’m all sweaty and you’re all sweaty and I will not hesitate to lean on you if you don’t pay attention to me.”

“Do, it, then,” Lincoln mutters, slightly hunched over to fluff up the throw pillows on the couch and inspect it to make sure nobody’s spilled their half-caff coffee (Normal) or energy drink (Scary) or needlessly complicated boba order (Taylor) or sports drink (himself). “Busy.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” Taylor says, draping himself across Lincoln’s back like an overgrown cat, hands hanging limply over Lincoln’s shoulders. In his peripheral vision, Lincoln notes that one’s holding a container of makeup wipes. “You’re so grumpy when you’re exhausted nowadays! Seems like a certain someone’s rubbing off on you.”

“Or, you know, using my back as a chaise lounge.”

“Well, I had been referring to Scary, but you’re not wrong!” He crows, stretching a little as if to emphasize all the points where their bodies make contact. 

(It’s uncomfortably warm and a little gross with all the sweat from their concert, and it’s a lot less bothersome than Lincoln would like to admit. Even in the afterglow of a performance in the earliest hours of the morning, voice hoarse and body crashing from all the adrenaline and mind dimmed with the promise of late-night room service and sleep, Taylor still has a way of making things a bit more bearable. Even when he’s acting anything but.)

A grimy finger pokes him lightly in the cheek, breaking Lincoln from his thoughts. He rolls his eyes and makes to fold the little blankets the staff had set out for them. 

“You’re so cute with your brows all furrowed like that,” Taylor teases. “Li-Wilson, our very own pretty boy, all angry and frowny. What would the press say?”

There’s a very, very stupid fluttering that happens in Lincoln’s chest whenever Taylor strings his name together with words like “cute” or “pretty” or “handsome”. And it happens annoyingly often, considering how much the four of them will play up their affections for their fans. Lincoln knows it’s not untrue - the internet surely agrees with what Taylor’s saying, if the endless amounts of comments he probably shouldn’t get sucked into reading are anything to go by - but sometimes… he still wonders if it’s all in his head, the way Taylor drops flirtations like he means them.

That’s a thought for later, though, when he’s in their shared hotel room fighting off the wonderful combination of jet lag and insomnia.

“Can you get off me, please?” Lincoln deadpans instead, jostling Taylor on his back a bit. “Wanna stand up.”

“Hmmmmm, on one condition,” Taylor muses slyly. His jet black hair gleams with sweat under the scattered fluorescents, and stray strands tickle the side of Lincoln’s neck as Taylor leans in even closer. 

“Remove my makeup for me?” He shakes the package of makeup wipes for emphasis, and Lincoln glances over his shoulder to see Taylor’s trademarked doe-eyed look, complete with batting lashes and pouting lips. 

“Cute,” Lincoln says out loud, because he calls Taylor that all the time in public, and he has no reason not to voice it now. Unlike the countless interviews and livestreams they’ve done together, though, he has the pleasure of watching red crawl its way across Taylor’s cheeks, which only further proves his point. 

“B-be that as it may, I have you effectively trapped until you do my bidding, you tall, unfairly handsome boy.”

Lincoln is so fortunate that he doesn’t blush easily, a fact which annoys both Taylor and the rest of their group. 

“Why can’t you remove your own makeup, huh?” Lincoln complains halfheartedly even as he takes the wipes offered to him and Taylor wriggles happily in celebration.

“Don’t have any mirrors,” He argues (which is clearly a lie - there are no less than eight in this room alone in case of last-minute touch-ups, not counting their phones), “and I’m so tired I can barely stand!”

“Oh, are your legs acting up? I can carry you if you want,” Lincoln replies, all pretense of grouchiness forgotten as he carefully straightens up, making sure that Taylor can still lean on him without throwing him off-balance.

“I mean, I’m probably fine. Just a little shaky, is all.” Taylor laughs a little, a short, breathy, half-nervous sound that Lincoln feels against the back of his outrageously complicated blouse. 

“You sure?” Lincoln asks, shooting Taylor a look of his own - his “princely protector” look, as he’s seen their fans call it - and Taylor’s expression softens a bit before breaking into a teasing smirk. 

“I mean… I am pretty tired, if you’re still offering, and I’d hate for those strong arms of yours to go to waste -”

“Alright, then, just let me…” Despite the awful clinging feeling of his sweaty clothes and the daunting task of even a little bit of physical exertion, Lincoln can’t help but grin as he rearranges their limbs to lift Taylor. It’s a familiar practice, borne from their years as training partners before they ever made their debut alongside Scary and Normal, and one Lincoln can find himself enjoying even in his drained, slightly sluggish state.

(It’s hard not to enjoy the feeling of Taylor in his arms, even if it’s just for a little bit.)

“Up we go!” Lincoln says, scooping him up into a bridal carry and spinning the two of them in a lazy circle. Like the many times they’ve done this, Taylor slings his arms around Lincoln’s neck and laughs, joyful and unrestrained and slightly hoarse from a night of singing. Like the many times they’ve done this, Lincoln wishes that he could bottle the sound, hollow out a hole in his heart and place that in it. 

(Like the many times they’ve done this, he wishes he could stop going a little braindead every time Taylor’s hot breath fans against the side of his neck.)

“O-okay,” Lincoln announces, hoping the stutter in his voice can be passed off as some sort of vocal strain. “Where do you wanna be?”

“There!” Taylor shifts in Lincoln’s grip, pointing to a black leather swivel chair in the corner of the room, tucked away behind some sort of support column. 

“Alright,” Lincoln says, swooping over and then allowing Taylor to carefully extricate himself from Lincoln’s torso. 

As gross as they both are right now, Lincoln finds himself missing the contact. 

He has a job to do, though.

Lincoln kneels down on the worn, carpeted floor before Taylor, trying not to think about how his body aches, grabs a makeup wipe from the pack, and assesses the boy before him. 

Taylor sits still and pretty - the distinct lack of fidgeting is a sure sign of how absolutely exhausted he is. His face shimmers from a combination of sweat and the glittery pink-peach pastes his makeup artists use to draw attention to his eyes. Thin, smoky eyeliner swoops from the outer corners of his eyes, a burgundy so dark it’s nearly black. The heavy blush that was placed on the apples of his cheeks has faded to a mere suggestion now, but Taylor’s lips are still stained a deep cherry-plum, the corners defined with small strokes in a way that makes his smile appear more cat-like, somehow. 

The stylists did a very good job with him, Lincoln thinks.

Lincoln makes slow, gentle work of removing every last bit of makeup from Taylor’s face, stroking with just the barest of pressure across his forehead, vaguely registering the way that the fibers stain with shades of peach and beige and concentrating on unearthing the soft skin beneath. 

With every swipe of his hand, Lincoln can feel Taylor’s eyes on him, slightly glazed over and staring shamelessly. Lincoln doesn’t blame him for spacing out this late at night, and if Taylor’s not spacing out, if he’s looking at Lincoln just to drink him in amidst the peace that comes after a long night of song after song - well. Lincoln would be lying if he said he wasn’t using this as an excuse to look at him, take in and admire each and every one of his features as if he hasn’t committed them to memory a hundred times over. Map out the slight dip of his temple with his fingers, trace the curve of his cheek, stare right back into those dark, faraway eyes while removing his eyeliner and risk falling into them…

“Close your eyes,” Lincoln prompts, and that temptation is removed as Taylor’s eyelids flutter shut, obedient. Somehow, it doesn’t help with the lump of emotion building like phlegm in the back of his throat. 

Lincoln isn’t good with words, not the way Scary is, with her effortless lyricism and smooth-sounding syllables, phrases that bludgeon with the force of a sledgehammer or pierce through with the precision of a surgeon’s knife, depending on what is needed most.

But when Lincoln looks at Taylor like this, sometimes he finds himself wanting to be. He wants to write out everything trapped somewhere between his ribcage and his mouth, press the stain of it all into hotel memo pads, onto crumpled-up napkins from restaurants in cities he’ll never see again, tuck them into his pockets and let his chicken-scrawl attempts weigh him down twice as heavily as before. 

He’s tried, before, tried so many times, but they never come out quite right, toeing the line between being trite and far too strange. 

There’s just this… undeniable gravity about Taylor that defies any description. He’s got this magnetism to him, and they’ve been circling each other like opposing poles, like binary stars, ever since their first near-collision. His presence is real, undeniable - and not just onstage, where every staccato sound tumbles past Taylor’s lips with the strength and grace of a percussive rainfall, where every eye is drawn to him. 

Taylor is far more than that.

It’s in moments like this where Lincoln feels his pull the strongest, when the lights fade and the curtain drops and Taylor’s features are softened by the encroaching shadows yet still radiant from the high of their performance. When Taylor’s taken out his fancy lenses and Lincoln can see the onyx depths of his eyes, dare to lean closer to see if he can map out the place where his irises meet his pupils in the lowlight, all framed by dark, short lashes. When he presses a hand to Taylor’s cheek and strokes gently, watches as the sweat and foundation and blush give way to olive skin, wishes that the makeup wipe wasn’t in the way and he could hold Taylor like this for real, whenever he wanted. When he finds a clean section of chemical-soaked cloth and carefully touches it to Taylor’s lips, when he hears the way Taylor’s breath hitches near-imperceptibly in the quiet of this tucked away green room in this two-night town. 

“Does it sting?” Lincoln hears himself ask, searching his face for any discomfort. After so much silence, the question sounds louder than when their voices echoed off the stage, more amplified than any microphone could ever make it.

“N-nope,” Taylor rasps, and Lincoln knows it’s probably just rough from overuse but maybe there’s also something more. “Keep - keep going.”

“Okay,” Lincoln says, leaning in a little closer (he has to make sure he gets everything). “Let me know if it hurts?”

“Mm.”

Lincoln sets aside the makeup wipe, grabs a fresh one, and focuses on removing Taylor’s lipstick. 

Taylor has very nice lips. Like, objectively. They’re a little on the thinner side, but his cupid’s bow forms a heart shape and the edges turn up naturally at the corners in a way that makes him look perpetually mischievous.

As Lincoln gently swipes away at the lip liner, he thinks (not for the first time) about what it would be like to kiss him.

Taylor’s kissed Lincoln before - on his forehead, on his shoulders, on his cheek. Lincoln has kissed Taylor before, too - the crown of his head, his temple, and on one memorable occasion, the corner of his mouth. It’s practically to be expected at this point. He’s kissed Normal and Scary, too, and they’ve kissed him, but with them, it’s something easy, rote, platonic, entirely performative.

Kissing Taylor has always felt different. Maybe it’s because the soft press of Taylor’s lips against his skin always leaves him with some sort of endless pit in his chest, something that threatens to consume him whenever he meets Taylor’s black-hole eyes.

And it drives Lincoln absolutely crazy, the way he constantly finds himself wanting more - wanting to know the way that their mouths might slot together, to see if Taylor’s lips are as soft against his own as they feel against the back of his hand. 

Lincoln presses the wipe to Taylor’s top lip, runs his cloth-covered finger over the divot of his cupid’s bow, and fails to stop thinking about the way his groupmate might taste - fails to stop thinking about kissing the boy in front of him until they’re both rendered completely breathless. 

Taylor’s breath stutters, and Lincoln can feel the fluttery inhale-exhale against his face, and he glances upward to see Taylor’s eyes open, now, free of shadows and glitter. His gaze darts lazily between Lincoln’s eyes and his mouth.

Taylor can read Lincoln’s expressions like a favorite book. It’s only natural, having lived and worked in close quarters for the past five years together. He knows the way the light glances off Lincoln’s eyes when his mind is elsewhere, knows his fake smiles from his genuine ones, knows the way his eyes crinkle at the corners whenever he’s truly, exuberantly happy.

Taylor knows exactly what Lincoln’s thinking right now. 

And for the same reason, Lincoln recognizes the look in Taylor’s eyes for exactly what it is. 

Tiredness. Longing. Affection. Want. 

It would be easy, so easy to lean in those final few inches, to close the distance between him the way that he’s wanted to for years, the way they’ve both wanted to. But what they desire and what they can let themselves have - those have always been two very different things. 

But it’s late, and most of the staff have cleared out, and Normal and Scary are probably hanging out on the empty stage like usual. Even so, there’s always a chance -

Lincoln’s eyes flick toward the ceiling.

“There’s one camera on the other side of the pillar,” Taylor says, and Lincoln’s eyes snap back to him immediately. A suggestion of a smirk plays at Taylor’s lips.

“Did you…” Taylor’s smile grows, something secretive and almost shy. Predictably, Lincoln’s gaze follows the curve of his lips as he trails off.

“You’ve been staring a lot tonight,” Taylor teases, and god, Lincoln can’t take the low, lilting timbre of his voice right now, not when he’s close enough to feel his breath against his face, not with flashes of berry-stained lips and white teeth taking up so much of his vision. “Do you wanna -”

“Yes,” Lincoln cuts him off, sounding much more desperate than he intended.

With no foundation left to hide it, Taylor’s face colors bright red remarkably quickly.

Lincoln swallows down the embarrassment, and Taylor’s eyes track the constriction of his throat.

He drops the makeup wipe, absentmindedly brushing his hand on his trousers, letting it hang in the empty space between them.

There’s not much of it left. Lincoln can feel the last of his resolve crumbling in the wake of Taylor voicing the truth that’s lived trapped in their lungs for years on end. His heartbeat, previously sluggish with the promise of rest, pounds faster in his chest, a marcato drumbeat that seems to chant almost, almost, almost.

Lincoln has lived through years of almosts, sustaining himself on the briefest of intimacies that they allow themselves, and everything he longs for is right in front of him, coalesced into the shape of his closest friend. 

Lincoln is tired of almosts. He wants a finally. 

But he’ll reach out and take it only if Taylor wants it, too. 

“Are… you okay with this?” Link asks, the question barely a murmur, because even though the answer is spelled out in the way Taylor’s hands are shaking in anticipation, he needs to make sure before their closeness becomes something more.

“Yeah,” Taylor breathes, a whispery sigh of an admission, and Lincoln’s heart jolts in his chest as Taylor reaches out to cradle the curve of his jaw, to drag him in further. “Yes. Please.”

And it is with that last murmured plea that Lincoln feels his resolve break. He shifts upward, inward, bracing his hands on the armrests of the makeup chair (he doesn’t trust his own legs to stay steady even as they kneel before him, and like hell is he going to let that ruin the moment he’s been dreaming of for years), and Taylor’s hand curls even more perfectly around his jaw, and finally, they meet in the middle.

Kissing Taylor is both nothing and everything like Lincoln had imagined.

Everything, because the feeling of Taylor smiling slightly against his lips, the subtle warmth of his mouth, the supple, pliant give as Taylor slots their lips together, is almost exactly as he had dreamed.

Nothing, because Taylor kisses him sweetly, gently, slowly, more kindly than Lincoln had ever thought possible.

Taylor has always been insatiable. Lincoln knew this from the moment he first laid eyes on him, from the moment he had bound up to him. He had been newly seventeen and starry-eyed, then, flagging him down from across the company practice room and asking if he could teach him how to dance. Taylor is fiery and headstrong and brightly-burning in his ambition, and everything he does, he does with an intense passion.

Now, in the half-lit almost-quiet of the green room, Taylor mouths at his lips so tenderly - almost hesitantly - that Lincoln feels like he could melt. The hand on the side of his jaw carefully, worshipfully maps out the planes of his face, traces along his cheekbone, behind his ear, guides him to tilt his head for a better angle. Lincoln makes a strange, whining noise in the back of his throat that Taylor takes from him, swallows down with a satisfied hum that sends vibrations through to Lincoln’s very soul, like the thrumming pulse of a bass-line in his chest.

Lincoln leans further into Taylor’s gravity, kisses him with the quiet desperation that’s been pent up, building and building in a wordless crescendo within him for years on end. He tries his best to pour the vast depths of his devotion into this moment, every admiration and affection and confession, every brush of Lincoln’s lips against his an I adore you, every exhaled sigh an every love song we’ve ever sang made me think of you. I love you, he thinks as he presses Taylor flush against the back of the chair, as his hands let go of the armrests to tangle in shiny, dark hair and Taylor sings into his mouth in response. Taylor is beautiful and warm and sweaty against him, and Lincoln presses their lips together again and again, an unending chorus of thank you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Taylor, for his part, responds in kind, arching his body into Lincoln’s hold, warm hands unhurriedly searching for purchase and finding it at the nape of his neck, at just above the small of his back. Lincoln registers the way Taylor fists at the expensive fabric of his shirt, the way his blunted, neatly-manicured nails scrape against the base of his scalp, and Lincoln shivers a bit in his embrace, though he feels wonderfully warmed through, more alive than when they performed for hundreds of fans just hours ago.

Taylor tastes like sweat and the chemicals from the makeup wipes. It has no right to be as addictive as it is to him. Maybe it’s because Taylor’s lips are every bit as soft against his own as they look on the monitors.

Lincoln’s sure that his lips are thoroughly chapped, but judging from Taylor’s delicate gasps and the eager, greedy way he leans further and further into him, he’s also sure that Taylor doesn’t mind.

Lincoln holds the last kiss for as long as he dares, drinking in the feeling of satisfying all of his favorite dreams and his wildest hopes. He commits the shape of his groupmate in his hands to memory, basking in the euphoria of carding fingers through show-mussed hair, of Taylor’s hand twisting in the fabric of his blouse. A smile threatens to pull at his lips as Taylor’s feathery breaths ghost against his cheek, measured and slightly shaky, an orchestration coming apart at the seams.

They stay like that for a long moment, and there is synchrony, harmony in the way Taylor melts into his touch. He's trying to capture this moment, too, Lincoln knows, impressing every bit of it into the corners of his mind, the backs of his eyelids, the hollow of his ribs. 

Eventually, they break apart, and Lincoln opens his eyes to see Taylor smiling slightly, angelic, still leaning inward like he wants to chase his lips. It’s such an adorable image that Lincoln nearly goes to kiss him again, but then Taylor looks up at him through his lashes, blinking slowly, and Lincoln is awed into stillness. 

Taylor’s always been very charming, expressive in a way Lincoln envied, able to make their fans fall for him with nothing but a camera and a simple glance. 

But Taylor isn’t acting for anyone here. The affection that warms his deep, dark eyes is for Lincoln and Lincoln alone, something raw and unscripted and intimate enough to steal the air from Lincoln’s lungs, and he can only hope the open adoration is reflected in his own gaze.

God, he’s gorgeous.

Lincoln touches his forehead to Taylor’s, exhaling unsteadily.

Taylor’s hand smooths over the back of his neck, and he gasps a little, drawn in by his touch, his magnetism, his care.

“I’ve wanted to do that for years,” Lincoln admits softly into the shared air between them.

Taylor grins, a secret, clandestine thing, eyes half-lidded in a heady concoction of exhaustion and exhilaration and wanting.

“I know,” Taylor murmurs back, barely above a whisper, and Lincoln can hear the smile in his voice, all his sharp edges softened and heat tempered just for him. “Me, too.”

And it really is that simple. They’ve been dancing around each other for years on end, every bit of longing telegraphed like choreography through every minuscule gesture and fleeting touch. Every fragment of it is magnified by the glances they allowed themselves, reflected in the way their eyes meet, yearning painted in countless shades of onyx and bronze and ebony and sepia. 

Lincoln knows it, and Taylor knows it. 

And quite suddenly, the world has narrowed down to the two of them and nothing else.

“Yeah,” Lincoln responds dumbly, breathless from the proximity and the weight of years lifted from his shoulders. His eyes flick down to Taylor’s lips, at the red stain his own mouth has left there, at the delicate curve of them, love-drunk smiling and slightly puffy. 

He wants to kiss him again, wants to feel that smile pressed against his, wants to lean in and close the distance. And so he does, because nothing on this earth can stop Lincoln from chasing after Taylor in every stolen moment he can get, from tilting his head just the right way, from shutting his eyes and following through -

Except Taylor does stop him, pressing the pad of his index finger to his lips. 

Lincoln makes a confused sort of hum, opening his eyes to find Taylor giggling incandescently, and it almost makes up for not kissing him.

“It’s late, Link,” Taylor murmurs conspiratorially, though he has no need to when nobody else is here. “Norm and Scary’ve gotta be wondering what’s taking us so long.”

“Oh,” Lincoln says, disappointed - or, well, he tries to say it, but Taylor’s finger is still in the way, so it comes out a little odd. After considering for a moment, he places a kiss to the tip of Taylor’s finger instead, blinking up at him.

“God, put your pretty eyes away, I’m already embarrassingly in love with you,” Taylor responds, his bare face flushing noticeably darker even in the dim lighting. 

Lincoln smiles against his finger, and Taylor sighs, eyes darting elsewhere so he can focus better.

“Anyway. They’ve gotta be waiting for us to get into street clothes so we can get the fuck out of here,” Taylor continues, pointedly not looking directly at him.

Lincoln kisses his finger again, just to be a menace. Taylor’s breath hitches the slightest bit, and Lincoln grins. 

“Listen, the sooner we leave, the sooner we get to the hotel. And the sooner we get to the hotel,” Taylor finally looks at him - looks at all of him, eyes dragging slowly down his still-kneeling form - “the sooner we can pick up where we left off.” 

He makes eye contact then, smirking and smug as he pushes lightly at Lincoln’s shoulder to give himself space to stand. “Sound good?”

Holy shit.

Lincoln has the sudden, distinct thought that they’re going to need to cancel the rest of their tour, because Lincoln is going to die at Taylor’s (soft, beautiful, warm) hands if he keeps saying things like this. Lincoln will die, and their group will disband, and everything will be ruined because Taylor is every bit as cruel and conniving as he is beautiful and Lincoln is in far too deep. 

“Uh, you okay, dude?” his groupmate (boyfriend? partner? something else?) asks. 

“Great!” Lincoln says at an octave he didn’t know was possible, numbly pulling himself to stand and ignoring the way his knees ache. 

Taylor follows suit, and Lincoln makes for his change of clothes - though not without ducking down to place a quick kiss to Taylor’s temple, feeling more awake than he has in hours as he darts away from him. 

Taylor barks out a one-note laugh, startled and disbelieving.

“Race ya!” Lincoln yelps, laughter coloring his own voice as he quickly grabs his street clothes, leaving Taylor sputtering behind him. 

“Oh, you are so getting payback when we get to the hotel,” Taylor seethes not-so-darkly, grabbing his own go bag of clothes.

“I’m counting on it!” He replies, cheeky and giddy with energy despite the late hour.

Lincoln knows it’ll be hell not to hold Taylor as close as he wants out in public, not to kiss him beyond the bounds of manufactured flirting for the cameras. They’ll need to talk about what they are now, exactly, he thinks, as he starts to pick apart the series of crisscrossed, mazelike fastenings of his stage outfit. He has to remind himself to be a bit more patient so the fabric doesn’t rip at the seams in the wake of his excitement. 

But, as he finally extricates himself and pulls on the SPDRBZ hoodie he had snatched from the merch booth a few stops ago, Lincoln can’t help but feel optimistic. 

It’ll be worth it, he thinks, to hold Taylor, kiss him, shower him with praise until his skin flushes red, to be held and kissed and praised in return away from prying eyes. To have something just for them, even if it means they’ll need to work hard to keep this under wraps.

They’re no strangers to hard work. Lincoln’s groupmates are about as diligent as they come, Taylor included. Surely, this won’t be too difficult.

“You coming or what, slowpoke?” Taylor asks, pulling him from his thoughts. He’s changed into a simple tee shirt and cargos at the doorway, cane in hand and fondness in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Lincoln says, stumbling into his shoes as he meets Taylor, wanting to sling an arm around his waist before correcting himself and draping it across his shoulders instead as they head out. He beams regardless, giddy and hopeful, and the feeling in his chest burns brighter than the stage lights. “Let’s go.”

[gaykarstaagforever]

As an amateur marketing wizard, let me tell you why Tumblr isn't growing into the social media juggernaut Auttomatic wants it to be:

1. That isn't a thing anymore. Get with the times, Pappy. If you're not TikTok or YouTube, or the angry resthome that is Facebook, you aren't going to make money from this. Things have coalesced. You are either making all of the money or you don't get any. This is the market.

2. Their Big Idea was Live, a streaming thing they contracted another company to run for them. The Meet Group is doing good as a streaming provider. ...Tumblr is not a streaming platform. You can't just graft an unrelated thing onto another thing and ???, profit. They might as well have tried to turn it into Ebay.

They picked streaming because streaming is hip with the kids. ...On platforms that exclusively do streaming, and have robust tools to do that and promote streamers. Like Meet Group websites. People aren't looking for a cheap imitation of that, they just go to those to do that.

Sure, it could, theoretically, be a fun bonus thing. But it isn't, it is a weird thing most of us don't like or want here. Neither outcome was ever going to turn Tumblr around. Because, again, we can all do better streaming elsewhere. Why didn't anyone know this?

3. Ever since the Pornocalypse, the Tumblr base (it seems to me) trends young and rather disengaged from the platform. Teenagers drop in every week or so, look around, and move on. How were you going to generate revenue from these people with pay options? They don't have money, and what they have, they ain't spending here.

Even those of us who are here an unhealthy amount to do gay fandom stuff are in a groove with this platform where it is no-obligation. I pay for it to kill most ads, but I am an old man with a job who is bad with my money. I'm the exception. If the core demographic is people with no money, who see little benefit in paying for a thing that is bearable as a free product...they aren't going to give you money. That's the market. What was supposed to happen to change any of that? They didn't bring in older people, and they didn't offer any vital paid benefits. What...what was the plan?

4. We are known internet-wide as the sad gay website of sad gays and their sad gay blorbos. We are mined by them occasionally for our funnest stupidity, but that is this site's brand at this point. Trying to make Tumblr cool and profitable is like trying to turn your drag bar into a competator of Chick-fil-A. It isn't going to happen unless you radically alter your legacy brand. And when you do that, you immediately drive off the core patrons you have. I don't know how you fix that.

Conservatives and moms already have Facebook. They don't need Tumblr. And Tumblr is too Tumblr to be anything else. That is all it is.

Perhaps this platform is just inherently doomed to be exactly what it is, a giant queer money pit. Yahoo certainly thought so -- that's why they dumped us.

It sucks that Auttomatic can't make us profitable. And they're under no obligation to keep trying. But they shouldn't be surprised. We're fun at parties. But you can't take us home.

[just-antithings]

Re: refrainbow (creator of the Boyfriends webtoon) saying the n-word. (Note, I'll be switching between he and they pronouns for refrainbow, since he uses both, I hope it doesn't end up confusing. Also, the bold is to help with reading (at least, it helps with my ADHD, but there's also a td;lr at the bottom as well))

I don't have screenshots or links, but it's been noted that refrainbow has admitted to having said it when he was younger and still learning English (mostly from the internet). They are Indonesian and did not know the history behind the slur. I'm not sure they even knew it was a slur until getting called out for it; from what I've seen, refrainbow thought it was English slang calling someone stupid or bad, due to learning it through I think gaming, where the n-word and other slurs were often thrown around liberally.

People ofc are valid being wary around refrainbow or anyone who's used the n-word or other slurs as general insults (or just saying them in general). No one is entitled to anyone's forgiveness.

One thing I've seen thought up, though, is people saying that refrainbow should have known anyway that the word was off-limits. One anti art-commentary youtuber said, "I knew as a little kid that it was a BAD word, that you just DO NOT say." And yes, as an American kid, I'm sure they were observant enough to realize that it was a horrible word, even if they did not automatically know the history of that word.

Refrainbow is NOT American. He was learning English mainly through the internet, iirc, and even if he was also taking formal English classes, there usually isn't a section on slurs in said language. Now, in my French class, part of the lesson plan was learning about racism north African and Middle Eastern people faced in France (a very compressed lesson; I barely remember what the teacher told us in that lecture). We were not told slurs and told "Do not, under any circumstances, say these words." If I'd been in an online gaming community with a bunch of French kids back then, there is every possibility I could have repeated slurs in French, not knowing they were slurs, if everyone around me were using them like general insults. I would have assumed it was slang first, not slurs.

As for why antis add refrainbow saying the n-word at the very end of a rant/call-out, this is a pretty common tactic that I've seen in call-out-type posts I end up coming across. Lots of buzzwords are used, many with the barest amount of "evidence" (if there is any, or if there is, it's usually worst-faith takes of some post or passage from a fic). Usually it's full of rhetoric meant to stoke people's anger or disgust, and then at the very end is a claim not mentioned in the bulk of the call-out/rant and usually a shorter sentence. It's usually something worse than what else has been stated and may or may not come with actual proof, and this last part might be actually true or true if you hide context around it.

I think there are two main reasons for this. One is that depending on how long the call-out/rant is, most people are more likely to pay attention to just the beginning and end parts, skimming over the rest. Placing "the worse/worst thing" at the end then makes sure people actually read it. Another reason (tied to the first reason) is that this last point is more likely to stick in people's memories this way, so if people only skimmed the rest, they're more likely to believe the other points are true, too, especially if that last point has evidence attached or is easily searched.

There's been a few call-outs in my fandom recently (some were technically responses to earlier call-outs, showing proof that the original people making their call-out posts were lying/twisting the truth), so whenever I find myself getting disgusted or upset, I make sure to go back and read it more closely (if the call-out is about someone I follow/a mutual; I don't have energy to read rants about people I've never heard of before).

td;lr: refrainbow did say the n-word before, he's apologized, explaining that he was still learning English at the time and didn't know how bad the word was, and using points like this at the bottom of a call-out post seems to be deliberate, so that people remember The Bad Thing about the person more clearly.

.

[creaturesandcomforts]

How To Train Your Volmugger || Cassius and Abigail

Timing: Current Location: The Mines Feat: @creaturesandcomforts, @singdreamchild Warnings: Surgery tw Summary: In search of solutions for their own separate problems, Abigail and Cassius arrive at the entrance of the mines at the same time. A volmugger interrupts their interaction but provides them with a convenient way of removing the crystals.

Cassius had been worried about the person he interacted with on the internet, claiming they were going to the mines. And it seemed that they had found a kindred spirit in someone else. So, in his worry, he decided to venture out to one of the mine entrances in the dead of night, where he wouldn’t be caught by anyone that would be there during the day. He had no idea if anyone was guarding the entrance to the thing or if he was just being overly cautious, but that’s how he found himself in front of the mine entrance. Crystals sprouted all around him. 

He heard a shuffling of footsteps from behind and quickly turned around to see a woman exploring around. “I see I’m not the only one interested in what’s happening here,” he said with a lofted brow. “Unless you’re here to make sure no one gets too close, in which case I have no idea why I’m here, and I was simply lost.” He then added, knowing that it wasn’t the most convincing statement in the world, especially when spoken after claiming he was curious about what was drawing people towards the mines.

A single small crystal had arisen just outside the front door of Abigail's business, stopping the door from opening enough for hardly anybody to get through. No amount of resources or phone calls seemed to lead to a result other than wasted time and money, which forced her to take matters into her own hand. She'd heard rumors from her network of contacts about the mines being a source of the crystals, so if there were to be any solution, it would have to be there. In the deep cover of night, Abigail hadn't expected anybody to have had the same idea as her, which made her very surprised when she saw the man standing at the mine entrance.

As the stranger across from her dug a hole with his words, she responded only with silence. Abigail's ominous stare only left Cassius when she took notice of the crystals that surrounded him, the size of which certainly brought her much concern. If the crystal at her front door grew as large as some of the ones here, she'd lose the front of her club to them, with no hope of removing them using natural means. Pointed footsteps led Abigail closer and closer to some of the crystals to closer examine them, paying Cassius hardly any mind due to the apparent gravity of the situation.

Not much of a talker, Cassius thought with a raised brow, watching the stranger walk past him and closer to the crystals. He frowned, deciding to let the woman go about her business as he took a step deeper into the cave. There was nothing. His brows furrowed as he tried to possibly understand what was happening to the town, with the strange crystals popping up everywhere with wild abandon. He turned his attention back to the woman, expression unreadable. She had some intrigue with the crystals. He sighed, shaking his head. Just like everyone else in this damn town, he couldn’t help but think to himself. 

“You trying to figure out how these things work, too?” He asked, not sure if he would get a response or not. He took a step back from the entrance of the mines, taking a moment to listen around. He heard a distant shuffling, which sounded like it was coming from inside the mines. “Do you hear that?” He then asked, narrowing his gaze as he listened closer. The shuffling stopped after a moment, which left Cassius with more questions than answers. He knew this would be a bad idea. He knew this would be stupid. But even so, he retook toward the mines, hearing shuffling again. 

After pulling her large knife from a boot-mounted sheath, Abigail slowly dragged the sharp tip along the edge of one of the massive crystals, applying mire and more pressure along the arc. Just as she'd expected, not a single shaving or shard came off. These things were hard and dense, closer to stone than crystal in terms of hardness. It was only after Cassius spoke to her once more that she pulled away from the formations, prompting her to direct her attention to him. In response to his question, she simply offered a gentle nod, and whatever temporary focus she could offer before the next problem reared its head.

Abigail did hear it, the sound of something approaching from the depths of the cave, whatever creature had made the mistake of showing itself to her. With a hidden expression of intense focus and preparation, she flipped her knife in her hand, fingers tightly gripping onto the handle. As the movements became closer and faster, it became more and more apparent that whatever this thing was, it certainly wasn't human, or bipedal for that matter. "Steady yourself." Her cold voice spoke to the stranger, offering what was either a command, or a piece of advice. Only time would tell.

Cassius stood up straighter as the woman finally spoke, a hand drifting down to his pocket when he finally caught sight of the creature. It walked on all fours but had a humanoid figure. When it came closer, Cassius could finally see the thing for what it was, a shining geode where its face should be. Cassius immediately took out his pocket knife, as small and useless as it was. At least it was better than nothing, right? He looked over to the woman, then back to the creature, afraid to take his eyes off it for too long.

The creature suddenly shot out a spray of something from the middle of the geode, and Cassius quickly ducked out of the way before it could hit him, and it sizzled as it landed on the ground behind him. His eyes widened, suddenly at a loss for what he should do. He could run, but this thing would continue to skulk around the mines. His eyes darted over to Abigail for a brief moment, then back to the creature. He decided to say nothing, simply pointing his knife at the creature as it advanced toward them.

Whatever the creature from the mines happened to be, it was clearly approaching on the offensive, or at the very least it was frightening enough for Abigail to perceive its movements as such. As soon as she saw the acid spray onto the ground behind Cassius, her plan had to change. Acid was one of the few things she hadn't tested getting killed by, and, for all she knew, it could be enough to stop her healing long enough to kill her. After a slow, deep breath, she ran towards the entrance of the mine, dropping to slide past the Volmugger and drag her blade across one of its knees, forcing it to drop slightly.

Unfortunately, trying to slide across dirt in her sweatpants meant that Abigail didn't get nearly as much distance as she'd hoped to, leaving her directly between the Volmugger and a large crystal. She was able to roll back away from the creature, but not before the edge of her arm and a sizable portion of the crystal were coated in the creature's thick acid. All she could do was wince in pain through clenched teeth as she watched the creature struggle to return to its previous movements, clutching her newfound wound as if it would hurt less if she squeezed it with all of her might. "Your turn again.."

Cassius’s eyes widened as the creature sprayed acid toward the woman and the crystal. He blinked, watching as the crystal began to dissolve. “The acid melts the crystals!” He exclaimed, pointing to the now half-melted crystal behind Abigail. “Good to know…” He muttered to himself as he quickly advanced toward the creature, hoping that his supernatural speed would play to his advantage as he began to slash at the creature with his switchblade with wild abandon. 

The creature turned its sights on Cassius, spraying acid at his face. Right before it hit, however, he ducked out of the way with breakneck speed. With Abigail injured, Cassius felt like he had no choice. Eyes beginning to glow a bright red, he sunk his fangs into the neck of the creature, drinking from it with a vice grip on its neck. His vision began to change. Suddenly, he saw the disembodied faces of people he’d never met. He kept drinking down its blood, unable to stop what he had begun. The faces continued to swirl around in his vision, 

Then, when Cassius finally released his grip on the creature, it fell onto its knees and forearms, sluggishly turning its head toward him to spray at him. He could easily avoid the attack, the acidic substance making contact with another crystal, causing it to dissolve. 

Abigail knew that they needed to stop this thing before it hit anything important, lest one of them dies near this abandoned mine. She’d prefer only having to bury one body today, if she could help it. Once the creature had been forced to the ground, she swiftly dove back toward the creature to sit atop its back, plunging her knife through the back of its neck once she had the proper positioning to do so. Very rarely did she have to resort to using practiced maneuvers or training to kill what was necessary, so moments like these made her feel less like she’d wasted her time on something that normally came so easy to her.

With a sickening crunch of something deep inside the creature, it fell limp beneath Abigail, allowing her and Cassius a moment to breathe and recover from what had happened. Looking from her arm to the crystals nearby, she took notice of the fact that her arm had healed from the Volmugger’s acid, but the crystal had not. Circumstance and luck had brought them a rather convenient solution for their problems, and she wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity for anything.

Before speaking or confirming anything with her new associate, Abigail moved off of the body, rolled it onto its back, and plunged her large knife into its stomach, starting a rather crude dissection in search of whatever organ produced the acid. It took a few minutes, but eventually she found a foreign, foul smelling sack, wrenching it forth from the hot corpse with a heaving motion and holding it to the sun. Though the acid leaked through her skin and muscle, exposing the internal parts of her hand to the cool breeze around them, she didn’t seem to notice much, instead focusing more on showing Cassius what she’d retrieved.

Backing away from the thing as quickly as he could when he saw Abigail launch after it, Cassius wiped his mouth with a swipe from the back of his hand. Impressed, he watched as she quickly took the beast out the rest of the way. This was fine by him, as he hated killing things. Monster or not, it wasn’t his nature to take anything out in such a fashion. It seemed they had found a solution to the crystal problem after all. 

It may not have been what Cassius had initially set out to accomplish, but he was happy to have come away from it with some sort of knowledge. “Good to know. Their acid burns through crystals,” he mumbled to himself as if tucking away the information for a later date. 

Flinching as Abigail drove the blade into the creature’s back, Cassius couldn’t help but watch with horror as she pulled out the organ. He wrinkled his nose at the smell, bringing his hand up to cover his nose. “Well, that’s one way to solve the problem,” he spoke with a blink of his eyes. He still couldn’t stop thinking about those faces he saw when drinking its blood. That would haunt him for some time to come, he thought. He looked to her now exposed skeletal hand, frowning. “Make sure not to get that on anyone.” He spoke, noting that her shoulder had managed to heal already. “I’m guessing that you have crystal problems, then?” He asked, raising a brow. 

He looked down at the creature that had once been a danger, noticing the strangeness of its head. The geode-like thing that now lay dead beneath their feet. “Should probably take care of the corpse.” He noted, looking back up to the woman with a frown. “Can’t say I’ve ever had to bury a body before.”

Abigail wasn't exactly sure where to store this strange organ, especially with how much acid it was dripping, so she just sat it aside atop a small cluster of crystals, allowing it to burrow itself a few inches deeper. Very quickly, the fibers of her skin began stitching and knitting back together, allowing her the dexterity necessary to deal with the body. She nodded in response to Cassius's question, though she went without specifying what the exact 'crystal problems' she'd experienced were. Instead, she started using her large knife to lop the head off of the Volmugger, mostly because she thought it looked cool, and would look even better mounted on her wall. Abigail, in contrast to Cassius, had buried more bodies than she could count over the years. Rather than burying the body here, she pulled her phone out from atop the corpse and sent a swift, nonchalant text to one of the club's bouncers, containing only her location along with a request for the van to be brought over. "I'll handle this, and I can figure out acid distribution for the crystals. Travel home safely." The remainder of Abigail's night was spent transporting the body across town, to bury it somewhere it wouldn't be found and tracked back to the two strangers that had killed it.

[ssamou]

﹅   @itsjeonjk​  ✩     一   “internet purge” !

The idea comes to him while lounging on the couch, Sakura's head resting on his thigh with their eyes glued to the television. One of the shows he personally thought would be quite stupid is playing on the TV but the idol finds he actually likes it—the plot isn't over-done and all things considered it's fairly unique. Still, while that plays he can't help but want something else. So without a word he's gently moving her head to lie on the couch, and rises to get started on his idea. Like a man on a mission he's walking around their apartment as he gathers sheets, blankets and a bunch of pillow. Quietly he's dumping the things on the ground before the large L-shaped couch, spinning on his heel to face his girlfriend. "C'mon, get up," He ushers her, reaching for the remote to shut off the television before throwing it aside. Suddenly he feels giddy, this is something he's never done before with the fort and the lack of power. That reminds him he forgot the candles and again he's off to their kitchen to rummage around for what candles they have. "Jagiya! Where's the candles?" He's calling from the kitchen where his head is stick inside a cupboard, shutting it moments after and rummaging through the drawers.

She was quite comfortable— her head rested against his thigh, fingers fiddling at the hem of his briefs while his ran patterns through her hair. Honestly, she wasn't paying a lot of attention to whatever show they've put on the television, only making a few remarks here and there. She was far too focused on the feeling of his skin pressed to her's with sweet touches of affection.

Then he moved..

Sakura could feel the internal groan spill out from her once her head hit the couch, finding herself sitting up with near glares pointed in his direction. "Honey, what are you do—" her confusion intensified since the male is busying himself with dumping various amounts of pillows/blankets on the floor infront of her. She didn't know what to do or how to react, simply deciding to stare at him blankly in the midst of her curiosity.

It took a second for it to click with her when he mentioned candles. Ah. How adorable. He wanted to build a fortress on the floor, something she's consistently asked about since they began dating. The thought brought a shy smile to her flushed features.

"Okay, okay," she speaks out after him, finally sliding herself off of the couch to begin stacking the pillows in an assortment to make a (horrible) tent for the two. "They should be in the cabinet by the fridge.. I just bought a lot the other day— there was a really good sale."

[just-some-random-blogger]

meow meow, angel!! hope you're not annoyed by this greeting, bc it lets you immediately know who's your anon and i like it. so i've just finished watching hotd. the show in general and the characters seemed indeed more charming before i've watched it. i'm not disappointed but ig it's not what i expected it to be. still good, beautiful and all. don't get me wrong, i knew exactly what i'd been going to see. i knew all the plot points and all this shit. maybe this very fact spoiled everything. and i've never read the book. maybe they differ greatly but i'm talking only about the show. first of all, the plot seemed rather plain to me?.. it's linear and so predictable, too logical and obvious. i know they've cut some (dk how many) scenes but ig it's not the point? maybe it's the problem of the original, maybe the problem is the will to say to much. maybe it's just me being bitchy. second of all, characters?? the whole internet is arguing about daemon having no or grey moral while being blind on the others? wtf?? name me the one (out of the main characters) who's done NOTHING wrong and is absolutely saint?? who brings the love and the thruth only? viserys? a childish and selfish old man who's done so many wrong things and didn't want to face the consequences. rhaenyra? the young one annoyed me but the old one made me angry at times. the second one who's childish and selfish with no sense of duty. alicent? a naive woman whose resentment overgrown herself and made her blind with the desire of revenge. daemon? another selfish and arrogant man. besides, even if he had a sympathy for non-heir rhaenyra, i, personally, saw no love between them in the driftmark. a strong bond? desire? ambitions? targaryen's pride? yes. but not love. don't get me wrong, i understand all the motives, all the backgrounds, the characters. they all need a therapy and are deeply mentally wounded. but in general they're still a bunch of twats who do stupid and selfish things trying to overplay the faith just to be it's only favourite. a bunch of stupid just people doing stupid things. every moment of this show i was like "what if". what if rhaenys had become the queen? what if aemma hadn't died? what if daemon had someone of his liking for a first wife? the amount of their stupid decisions that are just leading them to the tomb... this hyperfixation made me realise i have that pride? strong feeling to the ancestry? that corlys possessed (as he said but we know). i feel SO sorry about this all. it's really scary how such a strong house, a great cultural inheritance is ruined by a bunch of morons. personally, i see it as an enormous tragedy. i can't empathise with mere people beside to the great history. but i did. i cried more times than one. still the mark of a good work. it made me empathise with the people that are TT annoying TT i was crying like a bitch over both scenes when daemon put the crown on his brother's/rhaenyra's head. i felt so sorry about all these relationships of the brothers. i cried over aegon's whole story. he's a twat. but boys with glossy eyes... the way young aemond said 'do not mourn me, mother'??? boy wtf?? i wanted to say who's my fav but tumblr is mad at me for sending long asks. a reason to send a love letter. and! *imagine the furious emoji* yesterday i was literally watching it till 8 am to finish it in time and to not pay for the full subscription bc hotd is literally the one show i've watched in a year but?? they just took the money earlier?? i'm furious but i'm gonna cry if they don't answer my messages TT take care! kiss you good morning or good night or good day! luv u<з

meow meow baby

i have no idea what this is but its cat related and also i want to eat it i hope its not slime. you know what time it is 😎😎

hope you're not annoyed by this greeting, bc it lets you immediately know who's your anon and i like it.

im not annoyed but this greeting. you can greet me however you want

so i've just finished watching hotd. the show in general and the characters seemed indeed more charming before i've watched it.

💀💀💀💀 HAHAHAHAHA BUT NO SO TRUE because now your disillusioned by them this is why the book is always better than the adaptation because there is always space in your head to tweak the character to your liking lol

i'm not disappointed but ig it's not what i expected it to be. still good, beautiful and all. don't get me wrong, i knew exactly what i'd been going to see. i knew all the plot points and all this shit. maybe this very fact spoiled everything.

nah i dont think its the spoilers. but since idk what it is lets agree its the spoilers AHAHAH

and i've never read the book. maybe they differ greatly but i'm talking only about the show.

i never read it too but apparently they changed a lot ?? or rather took a lot of artistic liberties ?? idk dont quote me on that. but knowing how adaptations are im willing to bet they did change a lot

first of all, the plot seemed rather plain to me?.. it's linear and so predictable, too logical and obvious. i know they've cut some (dk how many) scenes but ig it's not the point? maybe it's the problem of the original, maybe the problem is the will to say to much. maybe it's just me being bitchy.

HAHAHAHAHAHAH nah but its i think pretty common for a series to start off strong then dwindle along the way. isn't that what happened to GoT? i never watched it but my mom did and she said 👎 lol HAHAHH its hard to sustain good plotlines if youre not sure what ur doing lol (not that i can say i know what IM doing when i write either AHHHAHAHA). also i dont think its you being bitchy. not liking something or disagreeing with something does not equate to being a bitch. ???? its giving internalized misogyny? its ok you can have against the grain opinions

second of all, characters?? the whole internet is arguing about daemon having no or grey moral while being blind on the others? wtf?? name me the one (out of the main characters) who's done NOTHING wrong and is absolutely saint?? who brings the love and the thruth only? viserys? a childish and selfish old man who's done so many wrong things and didn't want to face the consequences. rhaenyra? the young one annoyed me but the old one made me angry at times. the second one who's childish and selfish with no sense of duty. alicent? a naive woman whose resentment overgrown herself and made her blind with the desire of revenge. daemon? another selfish and arrogant man. besides, even if he had a sympathy for non-heir rhaenyra, i, personally, saw no love between them in the driftmark. a strong bond? desire? ambitions? targaryen's pride? yes. but not love. don't get me wrong, i understand all the motives, all the backgrounds, the characters. they all need a therapy and are deeply mentally wounded. but in general they're still a bunch of twats who do stupid and selfish things trying to overplay the faith just to be it's only favourite. a bunch of stupid just people doing stupid things.

this this entire thing. i agree. they're all damaged and have their own wants and motives and most of all theyre all human. aint nobody perfect and even the best of us get swayed. i think its important to deconstruct works of fiction as they are a mirror to reality, but the moment someone tries to argue with me over an opinion i have over fiction im gonna say 'nah ur right bye' cos that aint worth it

every moment of this show i was like "what if". what if rhaenys had become the queen? what if aemma hadn't died? what if daemon had someone of his liking for a first wife? the amount of their stupid decisions that are just leading them to the tomb...

SO TRUE, even in the first parts of the show, there was already so much conflict so its all just a mountain of genetic/era specific stupidity AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

this hyperfixation made me realise i have that pride? strong feeling to the ancestry? that corlys possessed (as he said but we know).

ah you mean the illigitimate thing. nah fr he kinda messed up with that too but he's not wrong about the names thing. i understand what you mean, there is discomfort in the idea of knowingly letting someone who is clearly not your heir be heir. but at the same time, the kids became his heir by choice. blood is not the only determination of family.

i feel SO sorry about this all. it's really scary how such a strong house, a great cultural inheritance is ruined by a bunch of morons. personally, i see it as an enormous tragedy.

literally the story of humanity

i can't empathise with mere people beside to the great history. but i did. i cried more times than one. still the mark of a good work. it made me empathise with the people that are TT annoying TT

DAMN IF IT MADE YOU EMPATHIZE WITH ANNOYING PEOPLE IT FR GOOD AHHAHAAHH

i was crying like a bitch over both scenes when daemon put the crown on his brother's/rhaenyra's head. i felt so sorry about all these relationships of the brothers.

so true those scenes showed how daemon albeit greedy and despicable, still cared for things in his life, as most evil people do. the best example i have is hitler (not that im saying daemon is like hitler rip rip T_T just listen) lashflkahsfash i remember seeing a post with a pic of hitler carrying this child; people were saying it was chilling because well it was hitler with a child, why would someone who wants to kill people and wage war look so friendly with a child??? someone responded by saying something like people forget that at his core, hitler was just a dude that REALLY REALLY wanted to do have his way and he just genuinely believed in what he was doing. smth like that. again its unfair to liken a fictional criminal with AN ACTUAL WAR CRIMINAL DICTATOR so lets leave it at that.

i cried over aegon's whole story. he's a twat. but boys with glossy eyes...

so true actually. when he asked his mom if she loves her T_T i felt that. T_T he like me fr T_T i felt the helplessness of him. he's just a kid who happened to be born an heir lol and just wants a hug

the way young aemond said 'do not mourn me, mother'??? boy wtf??

SO TRUE T_T aemond was so emotionally responsible for that it breaks my heart that a child knew how to be like that T_T

i wanted to say who's my fav but tumblr is mad at me for sending long asks. a reason to send a love letter. and! *imagine the furious emoji* yesterday i was literally watching it till 8 am to finish it in time and to not pay for the full subscription bc hotd is literally the one show i've watched in a year but?? they just took the money earlier??

not to be a bad influence but you can always you know what it the noncorrect way wink wink HAHAHAHAHAH

i'm furious but i'm gonna cry if they don't answer my messages TT take care! kiss you good morning or good night or good day! luv u<з

i send you a hug, you can cry on my shoulder. im luv u

xxx

[contentgreenearth]

JUNGIAN TYPOLOGY POST #17: PULLING TYPINGS OFF THE INTERNET-THEY DON'T PROPERLY REPRESENT JUNG'S FUNCTIONS

Hello, everyone, I pulled a bunch of typings people did in a Jung MBTI group out of the group, and I'm actually going to talk about how these typings do not correctly represent Jung's functions, although that's what the people in this group *claim* to be using.

First , we will start with a typing somebody submitted to the group last Tuesday:

So, I know this one guy from school, and I've known him for a bit. Over time I've unconsciously paid attention to his personality, (like everyone does) and I want to try typing him so here goes: Part 1

1. His demeanor can change quite a bit: one on hand, he can be very funny, extroverted, and the "life of the party." However, he's also seen to be quiet, contemplative, timid, and kind of unaware (which makes him seem stupid) but he's not. He just looks like that because (his words here): he's just thinking about something. What he thinks about, I have no idea 😕 He doesn't say.

(1.1) (Not as important, but many people have said that he looks either: sad, angry, or scared) when asked about this, he says that he's not, and honestly doesn't pay attention to something like that

2. When talking to him, he has a nice demeanor, (is never rude from what I've seen) though sometimes he does talk with apathy or seems confused. Like he's piecing the puzzle together in his head in real time. He'll say something like, "Wait, but this doesn't..." or "I thought that..." When angry, he usually talks in a biting, sharp, subtly angry tone. I think he does this because he might accidentally snap and get very loud 😬 . Which is weird, because everyone thinks he sounds angry (but he isn't actually angry at all, he's just pointing out something, or arguing his point)

(2.1) Also, he has a hard time to understand subtle hints at times, or when people are joking. It's not serious at all, like it doesn't hinder him at all, but it is something interesting I've found out about him

(2.2) He does get VERY expressive at times, mainly when it's something he dislikes or something that doesn't make sense to him. He'll say it's stupid, and why do people do it like that, when they could do it like *that* (which is something he suggested) and how his idea is better. He usually gets very expressive about stuff that makes stuff "harder" or "complicated" and wants to make it more convenient

(2.3) Sometimes, he'll point out how something will look like something else, and they're surprisingly accurate. Like **surprisingly** accurate. Like how did you think of that? Other times I don't get it, and others don't. He tries explaining it, but it doesn't work 😢 boohoo.

3. As for whether he's more T or F. I'm not sure. On the surface, he seems more T than F, definitely. He's the type of guy to focus on a single question for an ungodly amount of time, only skipping to the next question when staying on the question isn't going anywhere. He's been called blunt by others before, which he can be, but from what I see, I think he just doesn't care. Like he'll try to work with someone, and he definitely can, he doesn't have any problem with anyone, but he does get pretty exhausted when he is dealing with feelings. When it comes to dealing with emotional situations, he is very tense, like he freezes up. After practice I overheard one of the coaches talking with another coach? official? idk?

saying "he wants to learn everything immediately." that might be an indicator of being a dominant melancholic. Like he wants to be perfect. Or maybe that's dominant choleric, like the drive or determination to achieve.

(3.1) Why I think he might be an F: he does quietly look around for whether it is ok to do something, and doesn't seem blunt when talking others and doesn't like seeing others down, (yet I do remember him saying that he isn't as blunt because he doesn't want to deal with arguments about it, and would rather have it over with than to deal with the emotional outburst)

4. I think he's more P than J, but idk. He does his work on his own, and will do what he needs to without supervision. But he can be pretty spontaneous. Some examples are opening a car door while the car is on the road, driving, and another car is coming in our direction. All because someone said that someone has to get out the car (it was pretty packed tbf)

His demeanor can change quite a bit: one on hand, he can be very funny, extroverted, and the "life of the party." However, he's also seen to be quiet, contemplative, timid, and kind of unaware (which makes him seem stupid) but he's not. He just looks like that because (his words here): he's just thinking about something. What he thinks about, I have no idea 😕 He doesn't say.

I could get somewhat of a typing from this, but not a complete one. If I had been doing this typing, I would have asked the person who submitted it a few key things:

1. Why did the person do xyz? Motives are very important pieces of knowledge to do a correct typing.

2. Was this person in a traumatic/abusive situation at home? This is an important question to ask in most typology groups, because they usually use some mood-based typology in their typing process. I don't, so I normally don't ask people that, but this group does, so if I were using their typing methods, this *is* something I would ask. Traumatic and abusive situations in the home definitely affect people's demeanor

3. Does he prefer xyz over abc? If his situation were different, would he still prefer xyz over abc? As I've mentioned several times in this blog, knowing a person's priorities of the 4 different foci essentially hands you the hierarchy of their conscious functions on a silver platter. Knowing a person's first and second priority in the foci can immediately tell you what the person's dominant and auxiliary functions are. With the information provided here, all I could really determine for sure is that this person is a sensor. The fact that it was mentioned that this person gets along well with others made me think the person is also a feeler. There was a remark that mentioned this guy preferred interacting with nature over interacting with people. That suggests S1, F2; or S1, T2. In these examples, the person preferred feeling and thinking about equally. So, without any further information, my tentative type for this person would be xSFP (preferring F>T) or Sx (instead of Se or Si, because we don't have enough information to know the attitude of the conscious). Here, however, were the responses of this group that *claims * to use Jung's functions. After each, I'll tell you what's wrong abou what they say. And I'm not necessarily saying these people mistyped him. They might have the right type, and just got lucky. More information being provided could back up their type claims, but with only the information provided, their typings were questionable at best, and here's why:

first impression off the bat is ISTP<:catthunk:1016670968770461706>

This is questionable at best, because as I just stated above, there was not enough information provided to definitely type this person as an ISTP. The only definitive things at all in the description above are S1 and an undifferentiated aux

"(2.2) He does get VERY expressive at times, mainly when it's something he dislikes or something that doesn't make sense to him. He'll say it's stupid, and why do people do it like that, when they could do it like that (which is something he suggested) and how his idea is better. He usually gets very expressive about stuff that makes stuff "harder" or "complicated" and wants to make it more convenient"

this strikes me as ISTP's pragmatism, and exhibits a melancholic correction of processes (ST)the external sanguine plus the Fe3 could be the culprit of his expressivity

To the person above, I would hate to say it, but first of all , if you read Jung, you would definitely know unconscious Fe is not about positive expressivity. Jung, in fact, defines unconscious Fe here:

Second that Kiersey Temperament +Berens Communication Style = Greek Temperament is nothing but ****, and any good typist knows that

"His demeanor can change quite a bit: one on hand, he can be very funny, extroverted, and the "life of the party." However, he's also seen to be quiet, contemplative, timid, and kind of unaware (which makes him seem stupid) but he's not. He just looks like that because (his words here): he's just thinking about something. What he thinks about, I have no idea 😕 He doesn't say."

that first part, like I said before, would be related to /sanguine and Fe3. that other part can sound like either phlegmatic or melancholic, but im def leaning towards melancholic

also the not expressing what hes thinking strikes me as identity without expression lol

Once again, Fe3 has nothing to do with positive expression. Jung says in many places that x3 is thae auxiliary of x4. What does that imply? That the unconscious functions have at best , neutral, and at worst, negative, connotations with them. Alternating between funny, extroverted and life of the party; and quiet, contemplative and timid; would be because of a *conscious* feeling function, not an unconscious one. Notice how after reading the exact same paragraph, I determined this person to have *conscious* feeling.

Also , this particular group associates Ti with self identity 🤔 Jung's definition of Ti has nothing to do with self identity, and if you actually read Psychological Types, you find if there *is* a function that has anything to do with self identity, it's *Fi*, not Ti.

same with this. I think I knew a different IS(T)P who just seemed completely immune to his environment. Would hang out in winter weather with like just a sweater and seem totally normal. It was almost surreal at times

Then there's this person, talking about an "SP" trait as if it's exclusive to ISTPs, and thankfully, someone else in the group was at least able to see this error and correct the person:

perhaps this is an Si1 thing, cus I kinda relate to this as well

Now that I read it, they aren't fully correct. To the person directly above, that's S1, not Si1.

And after I remembered that if Jung has a function that that anything to do with self-identity, it is Fi; I think I'm wrong. There was enough information provided to type this person. He's not an ISTP, by the way. His SOJT type is Se (preferring F>T), and his closest MBTI would be ESFP. Sorry, you guys. 🤣😂😆 I'm going to post this in my server . If anyone reads this here, or in my server, and sees any other misrepresentations of Jung, other than the ones I've already pointed out, please point them out , and let's discuss. I'd like my readers to learn Jung well enough to recognize typology errors like these, and I'd like to get better at recognizing them too 👍🤞✌️

[clouds-of-wings]

It’s funny to see the things I cared about in the 2000s as a teenager but which were mostly ridiculed now be pretty much accepted by the cultural mainstream (like for example: LGBTQ people being worthy of respect and equal rights, climate change being a severe threat, mental health issues shouldn’t be taboo) and things I thought but which seemed unsayable become sayable (like the (very likely) incompatibility of industrial civilization and a long-term livable future, yelling at children being a form of abuse, hunter-gatherer societies not being cartoonish hellscapes of violence and starvation). Back then it seemed like I was talking to a wall and nothing I said or did made any difference, but in the past 15 years something must have happened that shifted cultural perceptions. A whole lot of somethings rather, some bigger, some smaller.

I thought about this a couple of days ago after I got insulted elsewhere on the internet for defending asexuality and some related concepts and criticizing someone for using “virgin” as an insult. I got exactly the same kind of blow-back I got in 2010 and earlier for defending LGBTQ people. Stupid, oversensitive, just trying to be offended, etc. I noticed that these insults didn’t really affect me anymore, exactly because I have seen things change over the years. It’s more clear to me now that an effort is not really wasted just because you don’t see an immediate pay-off. By which I absolutely don’t mean that you always win in the end or people always secretly change their minds and just don’t tell you - things might culturally very easily go into a different direction than I want in the future. My point is more that the effect of anything you do or say cannot be accurately measured just after you did or said it.

It’s the same in personal, non-political issues. I used to have this really terrible next-door neighbour. She was loud, she was rude, quite stupid and very inconsiderate. I think I’m pretty chill and accepting as a neighbour, I don’t make a fuss over every little thing, but with her there was often no way around an argument. She would put her garbage into my storage space in the basement until I started locking it. She would leave her baby’s soiled diapers in front of my door for hours, causing the smell to seep in. She would spill copious amounts of beer all over the staircase and make it sticky, then blame people who weren’t there for it, she would come home at 3AM and turn on loud music. Her friends (who didn’t know me) would deface my door while drunk. Every single time I confronted her about something rude she did, she’d deny everything with the most ridiculous excuses (”The music isn’t loud, it just sounds loud to you” is one of her many memorable quotes). And yet - every time I confronted her about something, the behaviour stopped or at least became a lot better. Even though she never admitted to anything, she still didn’t do the thing anymore.

I learned through this to not care too much what people replied to me when I talked to them about a problem but to look at the long-term development that followed afterwards. I think this attitude carries over to political and cultural developments. In real life, maybe what you want to hear when you criticize harmful behaviour is “Oh I had never looked at it that way. Thank you for pointing it out, I’ll have to think about this!”, but let’s be realistic, that happens very, very rarely. Not just because many people have this weird idea about “saving face” where never admitting mistakes or ignorance is somehow dignified and respectable, but also because, for example, they need to hear something multiple times to wrap their heads around it, they need to think about it on their own first, or maybe they need to have a certain experience in their own lives first, or for any number of other reasons. And a spontaneous change of mind that isn’t deeply considered is often temporary anyway.

So my point of this long-winded monologue is that speaking your truth is never a wasted effort - or rather, you can’t know whether it was until infinity years later because your actions and words continue to have effects as they combine with other words, other actions, other experiences in the minds of those who heard, saw, read what you said and did. I find that this takes a lot of the pressure off of me, personally, and I wish I had known this when I was younger because I wouldn’t have beaten myself up so much for failing to change things for the better, both in my private life and in the bigger scheme of things. I see now, in my 30s, that somehow a lot of things changed for the better anyway, and often in the ways that I tried to bring about.

[sportsminorityreport]

Shit rolling downhill in college football...who has opportunities.

The world of college football went crazy this week. The Hatfields and the McCoys of college football (the Big Ten and SEC) decided to work together to solve all of the stupid problems paying players has created before it crushes the golden goose of college sports.

ESPN, Fox, and Warner Brothers announced a combined streaming service which may have just ended cable TV as we know it, when you take that in with Comcast's Peacock, Apple and Amazon streaming... In the very near future, cable companies may simply be internet providers because no one wants to pay for cable with next to no sports.

(I am going to pull some numbers out of my butt to explain conceptually what is about to happen. Where a cable company may charge you $40 for cable and I dunno $60 for TV over the cable, the trio might charge you say....$45. Now even splitting that in third, that is $15 each per subscriber where they might have been getting say $2-12 each from the cable companies. They will have more money to spend, very soon.)

In this crazy moment, I am going to point out who has opportunities today that they never had in the past ...and won't in the future.

I am going to be taking some shots because, well... shots need to be taken. I am going to be calling these parties foolish but that is only because most of them are absolutely not seeing the big picture. (but to be fair, that may not be the case with the SEC.)

Foolish party #1 - The Big Ten

Over the years, I have often said in college football realignment the other conferences are playing checkers while the Big Ten is playing chess. With the exception of their continuous pass on Pitt, which admittedly fails some criteria, I think they have killed it.

Not today. Today, the Big Ten is playing checkers like everyone else. The powers that be that are pulling the strings have advised Greg Flugar, College Football Expansion mouthpiece, that they plan to add Florida State as school 19 and Miami as school 20 and call it a day on expansion for now.

Well that's....ok...Florida is the 3rd largest state with 22M people, but it isn't a big picture plan.

The Big Ten is after Notre Dame. That is the big picture.

Now absolutely Notre Dame has lost clout with the implosion of the Pac and and the soon to be executed raid of the Atlantic Coast Conference.

The Big Ten and SEC are making plans for how college football should work without any input from Notre Dame. Notre Dame's network partner NBC is conspicuously out of the new streaming service.

So Notre Dame might be stuck on normal cable while cable dies!!!!??? Oh no!

...

When has poisoning the well ever worked with regards to forcing movement out of Notre Dame?

You have to give them what they want, and the simple reality is that you cannot do it with a 20 team conference.

Notre Dame wants to walk into the Big Ten holding Stanford's hand and they'll want their normal schedule.

That is it. Those are not unreasonable demands of the Big Ten at this point.

20 (or 22 members with Stanford and Notre Dame) is not going to deliver that.

24 or more could --- allowing 4 6 team divisions. 28 could for the same reason. 7 team divisions work.

Now remember when the Big Ten signed their contract there was an expansion clause that allowed them to add more schools with essentially a budget for 7 and a half more schools at that current pro rata amount?

The Big Ten has burned one share of that adding Washington (pop 8M)and Oregon (pop 4M) as the behest of Fox who wanted Oregon.

Now they plan to add FSU with Miami (Fox request) and it is likely they won't be spending more than another share and a half for FSU and Miami. (Flugar loudly hinted that FSU will get a normal share in essence for destabilizing the ACC. There is no indication Miami will get similar special treatment from day one. )

That means there will probably be enough cash left over for 5 more schools at the full Big Ten rate.

The Big Ten has a clause that allows funded expansion. In those scenarios conferences make expansion decisions with an understanding that if their network partners don't want the content, it will hurt their negotiations the next time around.

Now remember, the Big Ten has their own network that they co-own. They can add schools that the SEC might not want to add because their business model is different. State populations are a big factor of the network business, but so is fandom. A school like Clemson can make sense to the Big Ten.

Now Fox wants FSU and Miami, but likely wants to slam on the breaks after that so their new business partner ESPN can walk Virginia (9M) and North Carolina (11M) into the SEC, but what does NBC want?

I think the Big Ten may very well be rewarded if they see if NBC wants to sponsor Big Ten Expansion to 24 to grease the skids for Notre Dame ...and fuck over ESPN and the SEC.

But wait, you ask...why don't you just go to 22 and then add Notre Dame and Stanford for 24? Because 24 total with Stanford and Notre Dame included does not stop SEC expansion.

24 without them, does.

You may have the opportunity here to finally checkmate the SEC.

The Big Ten appears to have the assets in their expansion clause to add four schools then Notre Dame and Stanford come in. Notre Dame has their money and Stanford is rich enough to slide in for a couple years and humbled enough to know they might have to write their own check.

Frankly, I think a lot of Big Ten schools (Wisconsin, Northwestern, etc.) might take a haircut on their share to get Stanford into the conference.

So the Big Ten could technically offer 19 ) FSU, 20) Miami, 21) UNC, 22) UVA, 23) Georgia Tech, 24) Clemson.

Now UNC has been taken over by radicals from the GOP who view this a political struggle and want to be in the SEC. But this kind of offer where they could get FSU, Miami, UVA, Maryland, Georgia Tech, Clemson in their division... well, that is tough to walk away from.

But even if UNC still walks away, the entire landscape changes.

Georgia Tech may just be a solid #2 in Georgia, but they did win a national title in 1990. They have that potential. Plus Clemson is also big in Georgia (11M). Having two strong brands in Georgia could effectively turn Atlanta proper into Big Ten territory --- and that is the most important market in the SEC!

Such a move could say to southerners, "The Big Ten is just as important to Georgia and much of the deep south as the SEC AND they dominate the rest of the US."

It very much creates the narrative of a national conference and small, yokel, regional conference running the FBS world. It would be a crushing blow to the SEC. That is bad news for the SEC in the near future.

With no Clemson, the ACC is dead and the remains gets eaten by the Big 12.

There is no perfect SEC partner left for UNC. The SEC might consider doubling up in a state with Duke or NC State, but they don't like doing that. Maybe West Virginia (2M) is their solution. Making that decision is going to slow them down.

Now who would take UNC's spot in joining the Big Ten? I think the smart move is actually Missouri (6).

Missouri and Texas A&M were pissed when UT joined the SEC. The SEC lied to both schools for months. Missouri wanted to be in the Big Ten from the start and only settled for the SEC. Missouri isn't a preferred target for the Big Ten, but at 24 schools you are starting to enter the territory of "acceptable" targets.

Why Missou instead of an actually super smart play like Pitt? Honestly, because of what it does to the SEC.

If you pull Missou, the SEC likely adds UNC as their replacement and stops to ponder their next move. You want your rival conference scratching their heads while you win the realignment game.

Schools like UT are not going to want more expansion with lesser schools. There will be internal squabbles. Time will burn.

Missouri is also home to two SEC major recruiting hotbeds in St. Louis and Kansas City. Those used to be profitable recruiting grounds for Nebraska, which cannot recruit in the Big Ten. They are mid-sized state population-wise, making enough sense for the Big Ten network.

Missouri is a team you could partner with Nebraska in the west or in a central division with an annual neutral sight matchup with Nebraska alternating between St. Louis and KC.

If you gut the ACC, Notre Dame will come.

Not because the landscape is toxic --- but rather because you can offer Notre Dame what they have really wanted --- their schedule in the Big Ten.

Now at that point you have 26 teams.

Assuming FSU gets a full shares and the other 5 and Stanford get half shares, you are looking at one share left.

26 is an awkward number. Lets say you split that share and add AAU school Arizona State and Pitt to help your divisions.

ASU is the larger Arizona AAU school with the larger fanbase, located in the larger DMA in the largest population state (AZ -- 7M) in the Mountain timezone. USC and UCLA sponsored Arizona and ASU for the Pac back in the day. It seems very likely this would be the choice for a USC lead expansion.

Pitt has two big strikes against them. 1) The Big Ten already has in state carriage fees in Pennsylvania via Penn State's membership. 2) Penn State has been blocking them to ensure better recruiting.

But think about what Pitt is in the Big Ten. They are basically a slightly weaker in football version of Michigan State. A quality win for the elite. That is super valuable. Pitt will draw probably 10K more per football game in the Big Ten and Pitt is a very valuable basketball brand.

It would be once in a blue moon that Pitt ever was better than Penn State in football and the way the divisions lay out, Pitt wouldn't be in Penn State's division.

And Pitt is an astounding research power and they are lucky enough to have leadership with strong relations to the Big Ten powers today.

Kind of makes sense.

Now you are at 28 and you are basically the NFL of college football.

Now Stanford and Notre Dame are in the Big Ten.

The Big Ten will be irresistible to The University of Texas at that point.

A UT/OU move north would very much be under discussion. UT is not going to be happy in a second tier conference.

And the Big Ten would likely allow UT to carry their chosen assets with them. Adding UT +3 SEC schools would more than be paid for by the fan bases added.

UT and OU would jump. I think Arkansas would as well. Like Oklahoma, Arkansas is a national title contender with DFW recruiting, an also-ran without. They are not a school the Big Ten would want all that much, but they would rubberstamp it for Texas.

That would give you a contiguous path of states making the proposition an easier sell to UT and OU fans.... Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Missouri, Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin, Minnesota... That division looks to have a nice balance of solid and good programs.

Once the trio jumps, the SEC can no longer match Big Ten payouts.

Texas A&M is 30/70 in that scenario. A&M likes top tier media money and they were absolutely humiliated by the SEC's actions adding UT, but the SEC is their culturally preferred home and the conference would be shedding UT...

So who gets the 32nd spot if not A&M? One would think growth states across the Sunbelt.

Depends on how the Big Ten wants to roll. The first call should be the University of Florida. Florida is AAU and they are self centered enough to realize that if they jump to the Big Ten, they essentially would limit SEC recruiting in Florida to whatever Georgia can pull. That is a net positive for UF and the Big Ten.

Another SEC target could be LSU. LSU is SEC to the core, but they are also smart enough to see the better home.

Vanderbilt could be a sensible add for the Big Ten. They are a strong AAU school that would bring Tennessee into the Big 12 network footprint. They are also a school that is SEC to the core, but that would be a very appealing slot. Vandy could be good in both revenue sports in the Big Ten and in a first class home for academics and research.

Colorado could get consideration due to their history with OU and Nebraska, but I think they would not have the votes on the west coast after their Pac-12 exit dickery.

Pac loyal Utah --- also a growth state --- could very well end up with the final slot.

This would drop the SEC down to a distant second tier conference.

Why is this such a desirable goal? Money and control.

With 24-32 teams in 4 regionally sensible divisions, the Big Ten can have the number 1 &2 teams play each other, the winners of each play in the rose bowl in LA (western champ) and the pinstripe bowl in NYC (eastern champ) and then play a Big Ten championship game in Chicago, before their champ plays the survivor of the rest of the FBS.

Imagine all three of the top 3 media markets focused on the Big Ten every year.

These divisions would allow the historic powers recruiting footprints that allow them to compete.... Imagine the Pacific division with USC, Washington, Utah, and Nebraska competing every year. Imagine the central division with UT, OU, and Arkansas dueling for the title every year. Imagine the eastern division with Michigan, OSU, Notre Dame and Miami fighting for the crown. Imagine FSU, Penn State, and Clemson fighting for the Atlantic title each year.

Who ISN'T going to watch that?

That is three rounds of playoffs in house....SOLELY owned by the Big Ten, while the SEC is playing the the CUSA and Sunbelt champ or some such in a much less valuable half of the playoffs..

Additionally it would give the Big Ten the lion's share of the power schools. They could once more go back to dictating the rules to the SEC.

If they SEC complains the Big Ten could break its schools into a Pacific and Atlantic conference all working under the Big Ten/CIC umbrella. Two power conferences dictating terms to a 3rd weaker conference.

Now I have been abusive to the Big Ten here. A lot of this has to play out. What happens if ESPN suddenly takes their streaming money and pays Clemson...? There are LOTS of what ifs here that could alter or even derail this, but it doesn't change the fact that just allowing the SEC to get to 18 or match at 20 schools is just dumb.

Foolish party #2 - The SEC

Disney does not want to pay for SEC expansion but I think they have come to realize that parity between the Big Ten and SEC is what will allow them to maintain college football dominance.

They have to go to 18 (or 20) so the SEC doesn't look inferior. UNC is laying out the carpet for ESPN and the ACC.

Virginia is not. Virginia and Va Tech appear to want to stay together in a solid ACC. That may not exist soon depending on the mood of Clemson.

Today it looks like the Big Ten is preparing to let the SEC partner UVA with UNC. That is a rare SEC expansion opportunity today that mostly pays for itself.

I think it is highly likely that ESPN then uses their new streaming revenue to fund an expansion to 20 with 2 of the following four schools to boost SEC basketball --- West Virginia, Baylor, Kansas, and Duke. West Virginia and Baylor could be very, very good football programs in the SEC... like top 10 programs ... but Kansas and Duke are true blueblood basketball brands and that may be what ESPN wants.

One can just imagine an expanded SEC footprint with WVU and KU in the SEC and see a cultural block of antagonistic, radical bullheadedness that quickly and permanently sets in those states.

There is a cultural aspect to this. Liberal thinking universities vs. close minded antagonistic people who despise academic open mindedness. One hopes the Big Ten sees that, as it is becoming apparent in North Carolina that the radical conservatives do see that.

The SEC is playing the waiting game because there is too much opportunity for lawsuits to push the ACC collapse. They haven't been foolish yet, but I think letting the Big Ten move first could be their downfall.

Foolish party #3 - Clemson

Clemson appears to not be appealing enough academically for the Big Ten and unwanted by SEC schools Georgia, South Carolina, and Florida who would recruit against them.

That would likely have Clemson making the rather unsatisfying move to the Big 12 just to give their fans some feeling that Clemson didn't LOSE this round of realignment.

That is wrong thinking.

The big 12 is arguably overvalued.

Clemson is in a conference that is FILLED with good academic schools in good media states in a travel friendly footprint.

Additionally the ACC with their markets is a wildly underpaid conference.

Clemson is in a dominant basketball conference. And Clemson can compete with anyone in football.

Consider for a second if Clemson says, "We are going to rebuild the ACC."

That is potentially huge.

The ACC can actually lose UNC and UVA and recover. They have Va Tech, Duke, NC State, and Wake Forest.

They can lose FSU and Miami. Because they have Clemson and Notre Dame and can add USF for Florida recruiting access.

They cannot lose Clemson.

If Clemson goes, Notre Dame goes and the whole thing collapses.

The ACC is getting slightly less than Big 12 money from ESPN.

If the ACC loses those 4 schools they could add Uconn (NYC DMA#1) and Temple (Philadelphia DMA #4) and probably get the same deal from ESPN or possibly more money from NBC to move the ACC content from ESPN to an NBC offering.

I think the argument is simple for Clemson.

"Every school gives up $4M out of their TV payout. That goes into a pot and is paid out like NCAA tourney money. The football champ gets 1/5 of the pot every year for the next 5 years. If Clemson wins the title every year --- which we should --- we get Big Ten level revenue --- with no talk of unfair revenue sharing."

Even if ESPN is paying them, Everyone else gets just a bit less than the Big 12 members, which for most would be tolerable just not to be in the Big 12.

If NBC is paying them, they could end up making more money than Big 12 schools, even with the Clemson money drop.

I think in that scenario, you could very well see the ACC poach WVU, UCF, and Cinci in a few years. Clemson just has to be on board.

Foolish party #4 - The Big 12

The Big 12 needs to be begging ESPN to let them add UConn and Gonzaga as Olympic-only members now. They need to be selling it to UConn with a scheduling agreement for football for now, with a promise of eventual full membership. It may be a very, very tough sell, but it is a sale that needs to be made.

They have made some smart moves, but I think this non-move may bite them in the butt in a couple years.

Foolish party #5 - The PAC 2

So... Starting this fall most of the sports content already sold could be viewed via streaming services, cutting out the cable providers.

You own a conference brand with an automatic berth that has the potential to add schools and be the cream of the second tier conferences.

Do you think the cable companies and their stations might now suddenly be in the market for sports content? That they might pay you a hell of a lot more than ESPN would?

The Pac should put in a call to Comcast and ask them if they would like to sponsor an FBS conference.... If they would like to give you a contract with a poaching budget like Fox gave to the Big Ten. Ask them if they want you to be their version of the ACC poaching conferences just like the ACC did at the direction of ESPN years ago.

The old PAC had issues with Comcast, but most of those schools are gone. It may now make sense for comcast to push more football onto NBC, Peacock, and Telemundo.

It seems like the opportunities out there are bigger than a reverse merger with the MWC.