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ittybittyfanblog · 2 months ago

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Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 4

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (vindicated!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, player wants to sock a certain 3D character in the face A/N: Here’s part 4! Also, a taglist at the end of this post! Just lmk whether you'd like to be added/removed, no sweat ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ Happy reading!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9

You swiftly pull up Reddit. And then Twitter (X) on another window. You’ve got to find answers.

Typing in “sENTIENT SENTINCE SENTIENCE LADS ML HELP” in the r/LoveAndDeepspace subreddit search bar, along with keywords that have anything to do with “breaking the fourth wall” and “recent major updates” on X, you quickly scour for anything that comes even close to your current situation.

Immediately, you see a bunch of mix-match results, some even dating as far as the first month of the game’s release. Your eyes skim through blocks of texts, hoping there’s a comment–or a tweet–somewhere that could shed some light to this conundrum.

Already, you see some discussion on sudden fourth wall breaks. But you’ve seen posts like this before, and they’re most likely pertaining to the way their LI’s gaze falls directly on the player’s line of sight when they’re in Dynamic Pose mode in Glint Photobooth.

The common suspects for this are usually Xavier and your resident headache (Sylus). It's one of the “known” bugs of the game, even so far as being choreographed, almost, from the way players intentionally pose the MLs at certain angles to attain the likeness of sentience.

You remember the first time it happened to you, way back when the Photobooth feature was just recently introduced. You were taking photos of Xavier–letting him pose freely in dynamic mode so that you could capture a more organic look, when his eyes “met” yours directly.

Of course like any other (delusional) player, you entertained the novel idea of actually being noticed by the videogame character you’ve formed an unhealthy attachment to. Got excited, squealed over it, felt an instant doki-doki on your kokoro—the whole shebang.

… Along with probably hundreds of other players who’ve experienced the same thing.

So, yes, these instances occur more frequently than one would think. Not really what you’d call particularly noteworthy.

Then you see the threads from players who swear that their LIs really understand how they feel during their tête-à-tête sessions. It sounds promising, and you spend a few minutes reading through their "testimonies."

—Until you surmise from what you’ve gathered that all of them only appear like they do. How Rafayel, Zayne (and yes, even Sylus) seem to know what they need to hear, from how accurate their generated responses are.

Keyword: generated. So, no. They still aren’t anything more than glorified soundboards with really good timing, however attractive it may be to think otherwise.

Ooh, that one sounds a little too bitchy, even for you.

It’s got nothing to do with the players, nor has it anything to do with how the game works, really – bugs and all. Fuck, you were one of those people who milked the fantasy over the same coincidences once upon a time. You were. Before the coincidences started to be anything but.

Before you had to worry whether you still have your mental faculties in order.

With every–misleading–post you stumble upon, you feel yourself becoming more restless. There’s a fervent glaze in your eyes and your typing’s getting diabolically worse. (you could barely read that last search input–bitch, how are you fit to work?) You’re sure that if you looked in a mirror right now, you’d look as deranged as you feel.

Xavier “bug” that looks so real omg?? Skip.

Sylus – New Voiceline? You check it out. Yeah, It’s just one of his newer–programmed–voicelines.

Conversations with Rafayel got ~too real~ all of a sudden. You wish that yours had stayed the way they’ve always been, but alas.

Stop feeding into my delusions [Zayne] challenge: Failed. Oh? You’re almost done reading the first paragraph of the Redditor’s post, when you catch sight of the latest update below:

Resolved. Uninstalled the game. Multi-banners are getting too expensive (See my other post). Okay, you respect that. Hear that, Infold—

You’re slowly losing hope. Clearly, your case is kind of… mayhaps a tiny bit… different. From the rest. Dare say, exceptionally so.

To what end, you don’t know. You’re left with more questions than answers, and the primary enigma isn’t giving you much to work with.

Without anything else left to do, you resort to mindless scrolling. You’re swiping up, scrolling endlessly through the Top Posts of All Time, and it feels like you’re about to reach the end of this damn subreddit… When an unassuming post from a deleted user catches your attention.

It only got a few upvotes, and barely enough comments to gain traction. Unless one’s desperate enough to have been looking as hard as you are, it just looks like one of the many random dead posts from months ago. Nothing special.

Even the title is unassuming: I think the game’s broken??

You start to read.

Hi, so uhhh I’m 2 months in the game and everything’s been going well and all… Until a few days ago. IDK if this is a bug ?? but my Rafayel’s been acting so weird lately….. Ik I’m gonna sound delusional, but it’s like he’s actually aware of me ME. Not my MC.

He’s got a bunch of new dialogues, and they’re all so accurately specific it’s creeping me tf out LMAO. IDK how the devs got THIS much info on me (like is this even legal) but they do. Or at least, Rafayel does? That sounds rly stupid out loud but yeah lol. Oh and he doesn’t even let me switch between MLs anymore. The game just… crashes? whenever I try to.

Always been a Rafayel main (he’s the reason why I installed the game in the first place) so I was REALLY ecstatic over what I thought were new updates from the game… buuut when I tried looking it up, I can’t find any related news from the official LADS channel(s) about recent patches or updates with this feature, and no one seems to know what I’m talking about???

I feel like I’m going crazy… Literally as I’m typing this, Rafayel’s spamming me with notifications. He’s so fucking clingy… I love it??

Plsplspls if anyone’s experiencing the same thing, comment or DM meee. I need someone to talk to, aside from the fishie lmao no matter how much he insists that he’s enough omg (?!?!!)

Holy shit—you can’t believe it. This… this is exactly what you’re looking for.

The six comments under the post ranged from calling it complete bull to outright mocking the OP, and you understand why the post didn’t get any more popular.

For a brief moment, you feel a certain kinship with the original poster. A tinge of… shame (?) washes over you as you scan through all the negative reception; it’s as if the harsh insults were hurled directly at you instead.

How fun. There goes your fleeting idea to post the same question on the forum, if all else fails.

Speaking of. Your eyes quickly dart to the small text just above the title to check their username—but to your utter dismay, you see (and remember) that it’s from a deleted account.

The user no longer exists.

God, that can’t be it.

You spend a solid twenty minutes trying to look up ways to retrieve information–contacts, socials, anything–from deleted accounts. No dice.

Deep in your gut, you know that whatever else you could possibly find on both apps wouldn’t compare to what you’ve already come across.

You’ve officially hit a dead end.

With heavy limbs and a downtrodden spirit, you haul yourself up from the floor—just to turn around and collapse face first on the sofa. A deep, drawn-out groan escapes you as you shut your eyes for a moment, trying to calm yourself down from all the stuff that’s been boggling your brain.

It doesn’t seem like you’ll be finding a solid answer to your question (questions–in plural) any time soon. So what else can you do?

Well, aside from putting away your groceries–the currently-thawing fish and the condensing bags of pre-cut veggies aren’t going to store themselves inside a freezer anytime soon. A loudly meowing ball of fur has also been relentlessly clawing at your leg at the foot of the sofa for the past five minutes, demanding to be fed and petted.

Whoops. You hastily push yourself back on your feet to address these pressing tasks pronto.

…

…..

(Now that’s out of the way—)

You swipe your phone open–yet again–as you flop back onto the couch. And, maybe, you’re a glutton for punishment. Maybe you’re just a little too over the excitement of the unknown factors in play. Or maybe, you just want another shot—to try one last time–

What you know, though, is that whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed about stuff at work, or you need something to distract yourself with, you open the silly otome game on your phone to make yourself feel better.

So—that’s exactly what you do. Even if that silly otome game’s now the reason why you’re feeling so goddamned stressed at the moment.

Go figure.

The game boots up. You sullenly glare at the loading bar as it progresses from 35%....

68%....

95%.........

Once again, Sylus_v1.0 (!) greets you from the center of the home screen, looking exactly the same as he did last when you opened the app, which was–damn, has it really been over three hours already?

“At this hour, the day is just getting started,” he remarks nonchalantly, folding his arms across his chest as his eyes drift to whatever’s on his left.

You give him a dead-eyed stare; slightly wary, but overall unimpressed by the act. “God, I hope the fuck not.”

There’s no new content since your last proper login, as far as you can tell. At first glance, you see some of the regular, daily badge notifications, but nothing really stands out to you. There’s no unexpected red dot on the mail icon this time, nor is there any on the Hunter Info tab.

So far, so good.

With slight hesitation, you begin to speak, even if you aren’t sure whether your intended recipient can actually hear you or not.

“Um, so. I’m really kinda freaking out right now and–” You cut yourself off, swallowing down the frustration building in your throat. There’s an edge to your voice as you speak your next words, “it’s because you’re–you’ve been giving me mixed signals. I–I don’t know what to think anymore-!”

He remains unmoving, showing no signs of having registered what you just said. You sigh.

“Ugh, it sounds like I’m talking to an actual boyfriend or something. This is driving me nuts.”

Still no response.

“Can’t you give me a sign?” You whine defeatedly, trying to catch the eye of the pixelated man on your phone who’s resolutely looking at the right side of the screen. Is he purposely avoiding eye contact or what? “Like… I don’t know–blink twice if you understand what I’m saying right now.”

He blinks. Once. Fucking—

Does he think this is some kind of joke?

“I’m gonna poke your dick off,” You threaten him menacingly, your pointer finger at the ready to commit assault. “I swear, I’m gonna do it—”

Wait. Was that a twitch on his lips?

Pausing, you narrow your eyes at him, critical in your scrutiny for any sign that might reveal the truth to this stupid charade he’s putting on. Because it’s a charade. It has to be.

All of a sudden, embarrassment colors your cheeks as it dawns on you what you just said to him. What you’re poised to do. Fuck, you just wanted to get a rise out of him. Test the waters or some shit. Then again, if he’s actually aware– if he CAN actually hear you—

Quickly, you retract your finger away from where it hovers precariously centimeters above his crotch area. “Right. Sorry.”

Scrunching your nose, you press the Agenda icon on the corner, resignation sitting heavy in your chest. Since it doesn’t look like you’re getting any answers tonight, you might as well just do your daily tasks while you’re in-game, right?

So you go through the motions of ticking off each task on the list half-heartedly, collecting the subsequent rewards one by one; just enough to reach the hundred star mark.

It’s petty, no doubt irrational, but you steer clear from anything that would require you to interact with him. You start off with what’s easiest to complete: gifting Stamina, spending Stamina, spending more Stamina, and buying items from the Shop.

Speaking of items… You try your best to act indifferent as you catch sight of the staggering number of red dias that has recently come to your possession, there on the upper right corner of the screen. Before you could even recall the other materials so kindly gifted to you the other night, you immediately exit the Store window to go about your business after you’ve finished collecting today’s free loot.

You breeze through the Bounty Hunts and Core Hunt stages with excessive use of the Auto Pursuit option, rinsing and repeating until you’re almost out of energy. You don’t want to risk playing an actual battle, since your strongest Memory Cards are from the man you’re currently giving the cold shoulder to.

Also, you have no idea what to expect once you enter combat mode–and right now, you can’t be damned to know.

Before you know it, you’re done with the daily Agenda. Close enough, at least. You didn’t even have to interact with the white-haired male LYLA wannabe to get the hundred golden stars. Go, you.

Without anything left to do, you’re back to staring at the–now seated–man on the homescreen who’s still intent on avoiding you. There’s Mephisto perched on his finger, appearing in a plume of black feathers, projecting a holographic screen for the Onychinus leader to scroll through whatever evil juju he’s been up to lately—the very picture of calm detachment.

Almost a minute passes by.

You can’t help it. Poke. Pokepokepokepoke—

“Once you’re trapped in life’s banality, the only thing left is “staying alive.”"

“Oh, for the love of—is that a hint or not?!”

You really wish you could’ve talked to the person on Reddit about this. Ask them whether their version of Rafayel had also been this difficult, this uncooperative. It can’t be that different from what you’re dealing with, could it?

Just a chance to talk… You brood wistfully. To know what’s happening to them right now. Ask them for advice on how to provoke some type of reactio—

Suddenly, something clicks in your brain, and you almost bite your tongue to prevent the spark of anticipation from showing on your face.

"Alright, you win," you concede with an exaggerated sigh, raising your arms over your head to appear as if you’re simply stretching away the stiffness in your muscles. You try to inject as much reluctance in your tone. “You’re really not going to budge, huh?”

Again, you’re met with radio silence—not that you’re expecting a response at this point.

(Well, not yet.)

“That’s fine…” You trail off deliberately, drawing lazy lines across the screen with your pointer finger, until it stops right before the small message icon on the left.

With feigned innocence, you muse, “Hey, I wonder how Xavier's been doing lately.”

…

A beat. You almost believe nothing would come out of your last, and obvious, attempt at goading him but then—

Sylus throws his head back with a sigh, casting an almost exasperated glance at the ceiling. He flicks his wrist dismissively, and Mephisto vanishes in a puff of dark smoke. There’s an unsettling fluidity in the way his gaze shifts toward you; disconcertingly lifelike, when his eyes finally–finally–lock onto yours. An intensity behind those red eyes that makes the look feel unnervingly deliberate.

Your breath catches in your throat. There it is. The reaction you’re looking for.

A weary amusement frames the way he tilts his head sideways–with the way the corners of his mouth curve into a mocking smile, eyes never leaving yours.

He raises an eyebrow up as if to say, now what?

“I knew it,” you whisper shakily, eyes widening into saucers. “I fucking knew it.”

“Mm, took you long enough.”

Before you could even react to that, Sylus flashes you a two-finger salute and winks.

The game crashes.

“Oh, no, you don’t—" you growl, not wasting any second tapping the game icon again. It doesn’t even give you a chance to reach the main menu before it glitches, and you’re back staring at the widgets on your phone’s home screen. “Motherfucker.”

You keep trying.

And with every attempt, Sylus, freak of nature that he is, responds with another system crash. On the eight try, you succeed on entering the game and you feel a sense of relief seeing the loading bar—before, lo and behold, it crashes once more.

Your left eye twitches. Inhaling deeply, you hold your breath for a solid fifteen seconds before sharply exhaling through your nose.

You jab a finger on the icon of his dumb face again. You ought to change that shit as soon as this game of chicken lets up.

“You’re gonna let me open this app, Sy-Sy,” You sang with faux cheer. “Or, swear to god, I’m uninstalling this thing before you could even—”

… It loads successfully before you could even finish your sentence.

“Alright, alright.”

There he is; closer to the screen now, wearing a faint smile, as though trying to stifle a full-on grin from breaking across his face. He looks thoroughly entertained by the entire situation, like it’s the most fun he’s had in ages. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“You–you—” Sputtering, you glare at him, betrayal in your eyes. “You’re a fucking ass!”

“And you’re an absolute delight to play with, kitten,” Sylus coos at you, his smirk widening. But when he catches the trembling jut on your bottom lip, the amused glint in his eyes softens into something that almost seems sympathetic, and dare you say–apologetic?

“For what it’s worth, I’ve just been waiting for the right moment to tell you. I couldn’t resist teasing you a little—but looking at you now, I see I might’ve taken it too far,” he murmurs, bowing his head slightly in a show of contrition. “I’m sorry, little dove.”

You press your lips together, your gaze darting away from the screen. “I thought I was going crazy.” As opposed to now? “B-but, um–it’s all good, I guess.”

A flush creeps up your neck when you hear him chuckle.

Fuck, this is really happening, the hysterical thought rushes to your mind, unbidden. Chat, what’s the plan?

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 <3

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic #self aware au #sylus qin

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hexiva · 1 year ago

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Roleplay Is Not Dead Nor Doth It Sleep

There's a post going around about how text-based, freeform roleplay is dead, and I was typing up a huge response to this, with an accompanying guide on how to find roleplayer in 2024, when I realized it might have a bigger reach if I made it its own post. So here's that guide.

I hesitate to say that there isn't a problem with the new format of social media making roleplay more difficult to find, but in the desire to make that point, the OP of the original post has left people with the idea that there's no way for them to get into freeform text roleplay in 2024. Which just isn't true! Here, look at all the ways.

Forums

The link to RPG-Directory to find roleplaying forums is a good start. Once you've found a forum RPG, even if you don't join, there's usually an 'advertising' section on that forum where other forum RPGs post their ads - this may help you to find forums that don't advertise on RPG-D.

Another really good forum to find roleplay on is Barbermonger. Barbermonger is focused on connecting people for one-on-one roleplays.

This last one's going to be weird, but it turns out that there are still people seeking roleplay on the Gaia Online forums after all these years. I think this is delightfully retro and then crowd there seems a little older than average. No pre-existing knowledge of Gaia required.

Tumblr

You can also find forum roleplay groups (as well as tumblr and Discord groups) right here on Tumblr. Usually, the thing to do is to use the search function - search for "[genre] rp" or "[fandom] rp" and sort by "latest." (If you sort by Top, you are likely to find dead RPs.) For example, here's fantasy rp, historical rp, and marvel rp. You can also try jcink rp, as most roleplay forums are hosted on Jcink these days, or discord rp, depending on your favored platform.

There are also tumblr blogs specifically dedicated to advertising roleplays. I'm not super familiar with these nowadays, but just in the process of searching those tags above, I found these:

Jcink Tinder

RPG Adverts

RPings

There are more, I just don't know them off the top of my head.

Listen, don't run away, I swear it's good now - I swear Reddit is good now -

Reddit is a good place to find Discord roleplays. It's a little heavier on smut-only roleplays than other platforms mentioned here, but it's not impossible to find sexless, plot-based roleplay here either. Most ads are for one on one RP, but you can find groups mixed in here too. The big subreddits for text-based freeform RP seem to be:

r/DiscordRP

r/RoleplayPartnerSearch

r/roleplaying

r/Roleplay

Some of these have weird rules about what you can put in your ad, and I don't remember which ones, so read carefully and don't get discouraged if your ad is initially removed.

Discord

In 2024, Discord is by far the biggest and most popular platform for roleplay, and it has its own native roleplay advertising hubs. Here are a bunch:

roleplay partner hub

Rockin Roleplay

The Roleplay Garden

roleplay help

the roleplay connection

RP Central

Roleplay Central

Roleplay Hub

Barbermonger also has a Discord server

Roleplay Meets: Reborn

RP Hub

The Scribes Guild

DM Rp Village

cherry blossom! roleplay hub

DM-RP

Roleplay Round Table (21+)

The Historical Syndicate (specifically for historical roleplay)

The Roleplayer's Directory

If you can't find the Discord roleplay you want on here, you can also try Discord hub websites, like Disboard. These work similar to tumblr tags - search for [genre] rp or [fandom] rp.

Other

The original post specifically mentions that 'all the old "omegle but for role play" type websites died out ages ago'. This is mostly true, but not quite! There's still Rolechat. It's a little janky, but what it needs more than anything is a bigger user base. Their Discord server is also a good place to find one on one discord roleplay. It is, of course, free, but if you want to support its development, they have a patreon.

Please reblog this post, and add your own tips on how to find roleplay!

#roleplay #rp #fandom rp #discord rp #jcink rp

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bethanythebogwitch · 7 months ago

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I listened to reading of some askreddit threads (don't judge me, it's a guilty pleasure) about doctors and healthcare and I notices some major division on topics when the answers were from the doctor's POV and patients' POV. I'm of course not qualified to draw conclusions from this, nor is Reddit a good place to get data, but here are some recurring points I found where the doctor and patient position appeared to be different.

Doctor POV: we can always tell when people are faking pain for opioids. It's extremely obvious.

Patient POV: multiple doctors accused me of drug seeking when I was actually in agony from stones, appendicitis, endometriosis, a tumor, etc.

Doctor POV: people who try to diagnose themselves are really annoying and counter productive.

Patient POV: I only figured out what was wrong with me by searching the internet after multiple doctors dismissed or failed to diagnose me. Alternatively: I went in with a good idea of what was wrong based on past experiences/family history/ etc and the doctors didn't take me seriously. Some would even refuse to do tests to check if the self-diagnosis was correct.

Doctor POV: the phrase "I know my body" is usually used by people who don't know what they're talking about. We are the ones who know medicine so we can tell if you're sick or not.

Patient POV: I knew something was wrong with me because I know my body and know when something isn't normal. The doctors wouldn't take me seriously and told me nothing was wrong after only doing basic tests.

Again, Reddit is not a good place to get data as the nature of the website encourages people posting more sensational stories and exaggerating or fabricating stories to get upvotes. In addition, most of these stories are likely far from the average doctor and patient experience. However, it appears that there may (emphasis, may) be a disconnect between doctors and patients that involves doctors not taking patients seriously and thinking they know better than patients about their own bodies. It seems like defaulting to thinking patients exaggerate pain to seek drugs and that patients don't have any way of understanding their own health is really detrimental.

Do not take this post as me saying you shouldn't go to the doctor. If you need medical help, go to the doctor. The medical system isn't perfect, but it's the best we have. And go to an actual doctor, not a naturopath, homeopath, or other quack.

#medical system #doctors #healthcare #patients #bad doctors

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 month ago

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Proud to be a blockhead

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/21/blockheads-r-us/#vocational-awe

This is my last Pluralistic post of the year, and rather than round up my most successful posts of the year, I figured I'd write a little about why it's impossible for me to do that, and why that is by design, and what that says about the arts, monopolies, and creative labor markets.

I started Pluralistic nearly five years ago, and from the outset, I was adamant that I wouldn't measure my success through quantitative measures. The canonical version of Pluralistic – the one that lives at pluralistic.net – has no metrics, no analytics, no logs, and no tracking. I don't know who visits the site. I don't know how many people visit the site. I don't know which posts are most popular, and which ones are the least popular. I can't know any of that.

The other versions of Pluralistic are less ascetic, but only because there's no way for me to turn off some metrics on those channels. The Mailman service that delivers the (tracker-free) email version of Pluralistic necessarily has a system for telling me how many subscribers I have, but I have never looked at that number, and have no intention of doing so. I have turned off notifications when someone signs up for the list, or resigns from it.

The commercial, surveillance-heavy channels for Pluralistic – Tumblr, Twitter – have a lot of metrics, but again, I don't consult them. Medium and Mastodon have some metrics, and again, I just pretend they don't exist.

What do I pay attention to? The qualitative impacts of my writing. Comments. Replies. Emails. Other bloggers who discuss it, or discussions on Metafilter, Slashdot, Reddit and Hacker News. That stuff matters to me a lot because I write for two reasons, which are, in order: to work out my own thinking, and; to influence other peoples' thinking.

Writing is a cognitive prosthesis for me. Working things out on the page helps me work things out in my life. And, of course, working things out on the page helps me work more things out on the page. Writing begets writing:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Honestly, that is sufficient. Not in the sense that writing, without being read, would make me happy or fulfilled. Being read and being part of a community and a conversation matters a lot to me. But the very act of writing is so important to me that even if no one read me, I would still write.

This is a thing that writers aren't supposed to admit. As I wrote on this blog's fourth anniversary, the most laughably false statement about writing ever uttered is Samuel Johnson's notorious "No man but a blockhead ever wrote but for money":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/20/fore/#synthesis

Making art is not an "economically rational" activity. Neither is attempting to persuade other people to your point of view. These activities are not merely intrinsically satisfying, they are also necessary, at least for many of us. The long, stupid fight about copyright that started in the Napster era has rarely acknowledged this, nor has it grappled with the implications of it. On the one hand, you have copyright maximalists who say totally absurd things like, "If you don't pay for art, no one will make art, and art will disappear." This is one of those radioactively false statements whose falsity is so glaring that it can be seen from orbit.

But on the other hand, you know who knows this fact very well? The corporations that pay creative workers. Movie studios, record labels, publishers, games studios: they all know that they are in possession of a workforce that has to make art, and will continue to do so, paycheck or not, until someone pokes their eyes out or breaks their fingers. People make art because it matters to them, and this trait makes workers terribly exploitable. As Fobazi Ettarh writes in her seminal paper on "vocational awe," workers who care about their jobs are at a huge disadvantage in labor markets. Teachers, librarians, nurses, and yes, artists, are all motivated by a sense of mission that often trumps their own self-interest and well-being and their bosses know it:

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

One of the most important ideas in David Graeber's magisterial book Bullshit Jobs is that the ground state of labor is to do a job that you are proud of and that matters to you, but late-stage capitalist alienation has gotten so grotesque that some people will actually sneer at the idea that, say, teachers should be well compensated: "Why should you get a living wage – isn't the satisfaction of helping children payment enough?"

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/06/20/david-graebers-bullshit-jobs-why-does-the-economy-sustain-jobs-that-no-one-values/

These are the most salient facts of the copyright fight: creativity is a non-economic activity, and this makes creative workers extremely vulnerable to exploitation. People make art because they have to. As Marx was finishing Kapital, he was often stuck working from home, having pawned his trousers so he could keep writing. The fact that artists don't respond rationally to economic incentives doesn't mean they should starve to death. Art – like nursing, teaching and librarianship – is necessary for human thriving.

No, the implication of the economic irrationality of vocational awe is this: the only tool that can secure economic justice for workers who truly can't help but do their jobs is solidarity. Creative workers need to be in solidarity with one another, and with our audiences – and, often, with the other workers at the corporations who bring our work to market. We are all class allies locked in struggle with the owners of both the entertainment companies and the technology companies that sit between us and our audiences (this is the thesis of Rebecca Giblin's and my 2022 book Chokepoint Capitalism):

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

The idea of artistic solidarity is an old and important one. Victor Hugo, creator of the first copyright treaty – the Berne Convention – wrote movingly about how the point of securing rights for creators wasn't to allow their biological children to exploit their work after their death, but rather, to ensure that the creative successors of artists could build on their forebears' accomplishments. Hugo – like any other artist who has a shred of honesty and has thought about the subject for more than ten seconds – knew that he was part of a creative community and tradition, one composed of readers and writers and critics and publishing workers, and that this was a community and a tradition worth fighting for and protecting.

One of the most important and memorable interviews Rebecca and I did for our book was with Liz Pelly, one of the sharpest critics of Spotify (our chapter about how Spotify steals from musicians is the only part of the audiobook available on Spotify itself – a "Spotify Exclusive"!):

https://open.spotify.com/show/7oLW9ANweI01CVbZUyH4Xg

Pelly has just published a major, important new book about Spotify's ripoffs, called Mood Machine:

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Mood-Machine/Liz-Pelly/9781668083505

A long article in Harper's unpacks one of the core mechanics at the heart of Spotify's systematic theft from creative workers: the use of "ghost artists," whose generic music is cheaper than real music, which is why Spotify crams it into their playlists:

https://harpers.org/archive/2025/01/the-ghosts-in-the-machine-liz-pelly-spotify-musicians/

The subject of Ghost Artists has long been shrouded in mystery and ardent – but highly selective – denials from Spotify itself. In her article – which features leaked internal chats from Spotify – Pelly gets to the heart of the matter. Ghost artists are musicians who are recruited by shadowy companies that offer flat fees for composing and performing inoffensive muzak that can fade into the background. This is wholesaled to Spotify, which crams it into wildly popular playlists of music that people put on while they're doing something else ("Deep Focus," "100% Lounge," "Bossa Nova Dinner," "Cocktail Jazz," "Deep Sleep," "Morning Stretch") and might therefore settle for an inferior product.

Spotify calls this "Perfect Fit Music" and it's the pink slime of music, an extruded, musiclike content that plugs a music-shaped hole in your life, without performing the communicative and aesthetic job that real music exists for.

After many dead-end leads with people involved in the musical pink slime industry, Pelly finally locates a musician who's willing to speak anonymously about his work (he asks for anonymity because he relies on the pittances he receives for making pink slime to survive). This jazz musician knows very little about where the music he's commissioned to produce ends up, which is by design. The musical pink slime industry, like all sleaze industries, is shrouded in the secrecy sought by bosses who know that they're running a racket they should be ashamed of.

The anonymous musician composes a stack of compositions on his couch, then goes into a studio for a series of one-take recordings. There's usually a rep from the PFC pink slime industry there, and the rep's feedback is always "play simpler." As the anonymous musician explains:

That’s definitely the thing: nothing that could be even remotely challenging or offensive, really. The goal, for sure, is to be as milquetoast as possible.

This source calls the arrangement "shameful." Another musician Pelly spoke to said "it felt unethical, like some kind of money-laundering scheme." The PFC companies say that these composers and performers are just making music, the way anyone might, and releasing it under pseudonyms in a way that "has been popular across mediums for decades." But Pelly's interview subjects told her that they don't consider their work to be art:

It feels like someone is giving you a prompt or a question, and you’re just answering it, whether it’s actually your conviction or not. Nobody I know would ever go into the studio and record music this way.

Artists who are recruited to make new pink slime are given reference links to existing pink slime and ordered to replicate it as closely as possible. The tracks produced this way that do the best are then fed to the next group of musicians to replicate, and so on. It's the musical equivalent of feeding slaughterhouse sweepings to the next generation of livestock, a version of the gag from Catch 22 where a patient in a body-cast has a catheter bag and an IV drip, and once a day a nurse comes and swaps them around.

Pelly reminds us that Spotify was supposed to be an answer to the painful question of the Napster era: how do we pay musicians for their labor? Spotify was sold as a way to bypass the "gatekeepers": the big three labels who own 70% of all recorded music, whose financial maltreatment of artists was seen as moral justification for file sharing ("Why buy the CD if the musician won't see any of the money from it?").

But the way that Spotify secured rights to all the popular music in the world was by handing over big equity stakes in its business to the Big Three labels, and giving them wildly preferential terms that made it impossible for independent musicians and labels to earn more than homeopathic fractions of a penny for each stream, even as Spotify became the one essential conduit for reaching an audience:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/03/16/wage-theft/#excessive-buyer-power

It turns out that getting fans to pay for music has no necessary connection to getting musicians paid. Vocational awe means that the fact that someone has induced a musician to make music doesn't mean that the musician is getting a fair share of what you pay for music. The same goes for every kind of art, and every field where vocational awe plays a role, from nursing to librarianship.

Chokepoint Capitalism tries very hard to grapple with this conundrum; the second half of the book is a series of detailed, shovel-ready policy prescriptions for labor, contract, and copyright reforms that will immediately and profoundly shift the share of income generated by creative labor from bosses to workers.

Which brings me back to this little publishing enterprise of mine, and the fact that I do it for free, and not only that, give it away under a Creative Commons Attribution license that allows you to share and republish it, for money, if you choose:

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

I am lucky enough that I make a good living from my writing, but I'm also honest enough with myself to know just how much luck was involved with that fact, and insecure enough to live in a state of constant near-terror about what happens when my luck runs out. I came up in science fiction, and I vividly remember the writers I admired whose careers popped like soap-bubbles when Reagan deregulated the retail sector, precipitating a collapse in the grocery stores and pharmacies where "midlist" mass-market paperbacks were sold by the millions across the country:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/04/self-publishing/

These writers – the ones who are still alive – are living proof of the fact that you have to break our fingers to get us to stop writing. Some of them haven't had a mainstream publisher in decades, but they're still writing, and self-publishing, or publishing with small presses, and often they're doing the best work of their careers, and almost no one is seeing it, and they're still doing it.

Because we aren't engaged in economically rational activity. We're doing something essential – essential to us, first and foremost, and essential to the audiences and peers our work reaches and changes and challenges.

Pluralistic is, in part, a way for me too face the fear I wake up with every day, that some day, my luck will run out, as it has for nearly all the writers I've ever admired, and to reassure myself that the writing will go on doing what I need it to do for my psyche and my heart even if – when – my career regresses to the mean.

It's a way for me to reaffirm the solidaristic nature of artistic activity, the connection with other writers and other readers (because I am, of course, an avid, constant reader). Commercial fortunes change. Monopolies lay waste to whole sectors and swallow up the livelihoods of people who believe in what they do like a whale straining tons of plankton through its baleen. But solidarity endures. Solidarietatis longa, vita brevis.

Happy New Year folks. See you in 2025.

#pluralistic #writing #vocational awe #fobazi ettarh #liz pelly #spotify #class war #solidarity #ai #economics #homo economicus #labor markets #arts #starving artists #blogging #art

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hanrinz · 1 year ago

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rin, your nonchalant boyfriend.

who is probably that guy who gets on reddit and then posts about you, asking for advice.

like he literally doesn’t know how to show his feelings like how you do and it bothers him!! probably has some ppl cheering him on the replies (& waits on updates)

“took my partner to ice cream today, we got to hold hands. my hands were sweating, is this normal?”

or whenever you’re having a fight and he gets on that app and he’s like “my partner and i had a fight, i can’t sleep.”

“it’s their birthday today, i finally managed to get that one thing they’ve been wanting for months.” he posts there like it’s a diary of sorts like omg.

and then his last post would be about a championship he won, but all he could think about was you and how he searched through the crowd for your face. and he thought that was the last time he’d shared any of those moments, because finally he grew the courage to ask you to be your forever.

people on reddit would often wonder about him and your relationship, it was so endearing in their eyes. and then suddenly a faithful day after a year on his last post he wrote once more.

“we’re married now :)”

it couldn't be helped, what was he supposed to do? feelings were surely overwhelming, that he needed to somehow let it all out, it felt so good that he grabbed his phone and typed out those simple words, a faint smile adorning his face. he’s like a schoolgirl who has a crush, it’s unreal.

and that was his very last post, he almost forgot about it.

it’s also been over two years when you stumbled upon it.

the username ‘rnshi’ it’s a little weird, but you were intrigued for a bit, that it was enough for you to go through it and read every single thing. and you were not one to assume anything, but you can remember these specific memories all too well. and before you know it a smile makes its way to your face, and your heart blooms even more.

and you didn’t care if it was silly, but it made your heart ache so much of love. and maybe you were overreacting, with your eyes tearing up by your lash line, trying to blink it away. a chuckle escapes you, that has caught rin’s attention peeping his head through the side of the wall of the kitchen.

“what are you laughing at?”

and if you didn’t know rin it would’ve come off as questioning and not in a good way, but he’s curious even if he tries not to show it.

turning off your phone as you dip up from the couch of your living room. you’re smiling and rin doesn’t know what to do as you near him. he notices the skip on each of your steps and a glee of happiness revolving around you.

your hands wrapping around his waist as you mush your face onto his back. he can still feel your smile.

a big question mark was planted on his face and you couldn’t help, but to giggle just a little at his confusion.

“you know that i love you right?”

of course, he knows that.

“i know.”

but it was more of a breath of relief than an assurance, because rin loves you more than anything and years of learning everything that could possibly better himself for you was proof of that, and you didn’t need any testimony to tell you that.

all you know is that, your lover is a dork and just sweetly in love just as you are.

◞♡ i’ve been missing rin a lot lately :( likes & reblogs are highly appreciated!

#roses ‘r rosie #he's a loser in my eyes #(i miss him sm im gonna sob)#rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin x reader #bllk x reader

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harumasa-wifey · 1 month ago

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Hey! Glad that more people who love Zenless are here on tumblr. And I’ve been loving some characters but I’m trying to see if i really like Harumasa. So mind helping me out with some headcanons?

Harumasa with a dragon thiren reader who works a bookshop (and secretly is a proxy) who can summon wings, a tail, and a horn✨

Just general headcanons on how this relationship would be!

Harumasa x Dragon Thiren!Reader

Warning: none, not proofread!

Note: my ass had to skip and skimp through some parts so i was genuinely confused what a Thiren is then i found a post on reddit explaining what it is. Thank you for requesting and having patience!

At first he doesn't look like a guy who would visit a Bookshop so often but he does read books sometimes rather than the papers in office.

After hearing from yanagi that you keep some of the best books around the sixth Street oh well he had to visit

Though you keep your tail and wings hidden most of the time you wear a cloak around you a short one to keep it over your head to cover the horns it's energy consuming to hide them all the time.

You keep your bookstore in the vintage style! It's a good change of place without electronics around. ( A big ass lie)

Of course you were surprised by the first visit of yanagi even and now him got you thinking you might get behind the bars soon.

You really haven't done anything bad being a proxy quite the opposite you have helped people get out of the hollows and often retrieve lost items as commissions.

Your H.D.D is hidden in the storage room which is also filled with different type of books.

And The siblings are also in your contacts it's never bad to have back ups!

Although he was confused why you had your head covered he didn't question it.

He doesn't know why he found himself often around your bookshop it was almost alluring in a peaceful way.

He doesn't read much he often comes here to seek a nap on one of your reading places yet he has the membership to your shop.

Even your bangboo has become all familiar to him, it always knows it's him when there is only one knock on the door. ( He is too lazy to knock twice anyways lol)

Though your cover as a proxy didn't stay for long under his sharp eyes.

Well it's a whatever case now as you and the siblings were excused as a proxy by miyabi herself.

He never outright told you to show him what you actually are but he definitely hints at it sometimes.

And not to mention those pick up lines he drops every now and then from the books and movies he had watched.

Well of course there is nothing to hide from him now anyways. He was amused he has seen many thirens, an oni a cat, wolf and shark. However seeing a dragon was really amusing to him.

Get ready for the absolute amount of ridiculous questions to be asked. He is not holding back.

He definitely read about dragons in the books you have after that of course and his nap time at the shop is more peaceful than ever now.

He might have asked to see your tail sometimes out of curiosity. Feel free to refuse if you don't wanna go that far. But if you let him see he is amazed how well you hide yourself.

He says the horns on your head add to your charm.

He never saw you fight but he has you running around in your bangboo beside him in the hollow.

He definitely takes his power naps with your tail warped around him.

He has read about dragons banishing evil and bringing good luck so now you are named as "Lucky Charm" in his contacts. Only his lucky charm.

#harumasa zzz #harumasa x reader #asaba harumasa #zenless zone zero headcanons #zenless zone zero x reader #harumasa asaba x reader #zzz x reader #zzzero

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daisynik7 · 1 year ago

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[F4M] You Leave a Naughty Voicemail for Your Husband While He Works Overtime [Established Relationship][Mutual Masturbation][Car Sex][Sub to Soft Dom][Breeding Kink][Mating Press][No Thoughts][Brain Empty][Just Fucking]

Read Part 1 here!

Pairing: husband!Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.6k

cw: established relationship, p*rn without plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl, missionary, mating press, doggy), mutual masturbation, mentions of sex toys, edging, blowjob, car sex, clitoral stimulation, spanking, some spit play, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, honey, princess, baby, good girl/boy), slight degradation kink

Summary: You record a naughty voicemail for your husband while he works overtime, leaving him yearning for more. Author’s Note: Hiya friends! Breaking my tumblr hiatus temporarily to post this. Consider this a sequel/part 2 to my other fic inspired by more NSFW audio. Someone gave me the idea to do a fic with the roles reversed, so here it is! Had a blast writing this, so I hope you enjoy! Bonus: here are some NSFW audios that inspired it (of course, they’re AugustInTheWinter): Link 1, Link 2 (reddit links, 18+). Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated, thanks so much for reading! Header image from the manga On Doorstep (it's BL and the MC looks like Nanami, I highly recommend). MDNI banner created by @/mikeykuns.

It’s past eleven when Nanami steps out of the conference room with the rest of his colleagues, having just finished the last team meeting of the day. He was asked to work overtime to help fix any remaining issues before the end of the fiscal year, which is in a few days. Normally, he’d never agree to this, but with your wedding anniversary approaching in a month, he wants the extra income to buy you that gold chain bracelet you’ve had an eye on.

With all his tasks complete for the day, he can finally leave. He gathers his belongings, checking his phone to see the missed call and voicemail you left him about an hour ago. She must be asleep already, he thinks, not bothering to call you back. When he gets in his car, he props his phone to the mount, ready to listen to your voicemail on Bluetooth while he drives home. He presses play as soon as he pulls out from his parking spot.

“Kento.” Your voice is hushed and breathy. “I miss you.”

Nanami clenches his jaw, already aroused by your sultry tone. He grips the steering wheel tighter, glancing at the phone screen to check the length of the voicemail: three minutes. That’s the limit before it cuts you off. And while the ride home is a mere ten, he has a feeling it will be excruciatingly long by the way this message is already playing.

You sigh. “I miss you so much, Kento.” There’s rustling in the background; Nanami imagines that you’re turning over in bed, under the covers. What are you wearing right now? The cute flannel pajamas he bought you two years ago for Valentine’s Day? Or the lingerie set you purchased yourself to surprise him for your most recent anniversary? At this rate, for his own sanity, he’s not sure which one he prefers.

“I can’t wait till you get home, honey. I’m so…” Your voice is heavy with lust; he can see the provocative face you’re making as you squeeze the phone to your ear, reaching between your legs to that throbbing pussy. “I’m so horny right now. I wish you were here.” If he listens closely, he can hear the squelch of fingers flicking your clit rapidly. “But since you’re not, is it okay if I touch myself?”

He’s tempted to slam on the gas and fly through the city to get to you in record time. Break all driving violations and his own personal morals to watch you play with yourself. It’s torture, sitting behind this red light, following the rules, listening to you moan into the phone, so needy and desperate for his cock. What’s worse is that you’re ovulating this week; he knows how pent up you must be from his absence tonight. Fertile and in heat, that wet sloppy cunt begging to be filled with his seed. He promised he’d make it up to you tomorrow morning, but why waste this perfectly good opportunity? Especially when you’re practically begging for it.

“Remember how good you fucked me last night? How you pinned me down by the wrists? How tightly I squeezed my legs around you as you pumped me full of cum?” It’s all Nanami thought about when he wasn’t focused on work today. Enough to force him into the men’s room to jerk himself off, fantasizing about it. Replaying your wanton moans ringing in his ears, the way your body convulsed around him, that adorably dumb expression on your face while you were getting fucked into oblivion. Normally, he’d be ashamed of himself at how lewd he was being in a work setting, but the memory of you was too irresistible, even for him.

He’s not usually perverse like this, but something about you drives him crazy. His hands are typically at 10-and-2, the correct position to steer the wheel. But just this once, he deems it necessary to lose his prim and proper attitude. He drops one into his lap to unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants, and reach down to palm his cock through his briefs. It’s enough to gain a bit of relief from this torment, at least until he’s safely home. Nanami wipes the sweat beading on his brow, accelerating too hard when the light finally switches to green, keeping his grip steady as he strokes his cock, listening intently to your voice surrounding him in the car.

“Are you hard right now, Kento?” There’s more movement in the background, as if you’re opening and shutting a drawer. Blood rushes into his cheeks, predicting exactly what you’re about to do. “Do you like listening to me touch myself?” There’s a familiar hum now, and he visualizes the pink vibrator buzzing in your hand, the fluttering tip teasing your swollen clit. He’d do anything to teleport directly into the bedroom and have his way with you.

“I’m so lonely in this bed without you. I’m fucking myself, thinking about you. Wishing it’s you instead of this stupid toy. Can you hear it, sweetie?”

“Yes,” he answers to no one, shoving his underwear down to release his erection, stroking himself faster with his right fist. He’s forced to stop again; how many fucking streetlights does this goddamn city need anyways?! It’s excruciating.

“My pussy is aching for your big cock.” The buzzing intensifies; you’ve increased the setting one level, on the verge of an orgasm. Typical behavior of his obedient slut of a wife. He loves sliding his fingers inside while you press the vibrator deeper into your clit. He’s obsessed with the way you gush around him, clenching him tighter, addicted to how it tastes on his tongue when he slides those cum-coated digits into his mouth.

“Hurry home, honey. I’m waiting for you. This pussy is already so wet for you. I’m going to use you as my sex toy tonight.”

“Fuck, I want that. I really want that,” Nanami moans in response, releasing his cock from his grasp, thighs fidgeting from arousal.

“You love it when I use you, huh? Love it when I fuck you silly until you’re milked dry.”

He groans, bucking his hips into nothing in the seat, briefly losing control of the wheel, causing the car to swerve. “Fuck, I love it, sweetie. I love it. Please.” He’s not sure what he’s begging for. All he knows is that if he doesn’t get home soon, he’ll combust, taking the car down with him.

“Fuck, Kento. I’m thinking about how deep you hit it from behind. Slapping my ass, treating me like a bad girl, pounding your hips into me like a fucking animal. I get so fucking cock drunk off you. Makes me want to come just talking about it.”

“Then come for me, baby,” he blurts out, fully aware he’s talking to a recording. He’s completely lost it now.

“Ah, I’m close. I – ” you interrupt yourself with your own whimpers. Nanami listens as he cruises past the speed limit now, wiping the bead of precum at the tip of his cock with his thumb, edging himself. It’d be a shame for him to waste his load onto his lap. He’s going to give you every fucking drop he has. Build it up so that your pussy is flooding with his hot, sticky mess.

You whine loudly, “I’m coming, Kento. Ah, I’m coming for you.” You moan into the phone, and Nanami has to release himself to prevent from orgasming too, Then, there’s silence on your end, except for your staggered breaths and occasionally rustling of the sheets beneath you. Eventually, the voicemail ends without another word, and he assumes that you’ve fallen asleep. He smiles to himself, imagining you, his gorgeous wife, with your legs splayed out, vibrator loosely gripped, completely knocked out on the bed.

He replays the voicemail, continuing to edge himself until he finally pulls into their driveway, opening the garage. He parks, shutting off the ignition, then searches the backseat for the box of tissues, wanting to clean up whatever mess he’s made. Before he gets the chance to, the door leading inside swings open, and it’s you, standing in the door frame in a sheer lingerie nightgown. The same one he expected you’d be wearing tonight.

He swallows hard, cock still out, stiffer than ever, watching you step towards the driver’s side, bright face peering through the window. You glance to his lap, noticing the lewd sight.

You tap on the glass, feigning innocence. “Kento?”

He opens the door slowly, face flushed, eyes half-lidded in a daze. “Sweetheart, please.”

His slacks have been shoved off haphazardly down his legs, engorged cock sprung against his abdomen, precum leaking out the tip. His cheeks are pink, hair tousled, forehead dewy with sweat. You smirk at him, pleased to see that he’s listened to your voicemail. “Oh, honey. Look at you. Have you been a bad boy?” You surround him with your fingers, jerking him slowly. He twitches at your touch, sensitive and aching in your fist.

He shakes his head, shutting his eyes closed as you stroke him. “No,” he stutters, “I’ve been very good.”

You inspect the car, realizing what he’s trying to convey to you; he hasn’t come yet. “Oh, baby,” you coo, squeezing his cock in your fist. “You’ve been very, very good. My good boy.”

He nods this time, leaning forward for a kiss. “Yes, I’m a good boy for you. I’m your good boy,” he huffs through gritted teeth. Nanami isn’t normally like this, so submissive and needy. But tonight, he has zero hesitation; he’s begging to be dominated, to be used and toyed with.

You lick into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “Do you want your reward now? Or should we go inside first?”

He won’t last much longer, so he spits out, “Now. Please.”

You smirk, kissing him messily, tongues swirling, swapping spit while his dick pulsates in your palm. “Fuck,” he groans, rocking his hips into you. “I’m going to come if you keep – ” he chokes on his saliva, unable to finish his sentence.

You giggle, nibbling at his ear lobe. “If I do what, baby?” You want to tease him a bit more, so you bend over his lap, kneeling on the bottom frame of the car, sinking down on him with your mouth. He throws his head back against the headrest, swearing loudly. You blow him until his cock is lubricated with your spit and he’s squirming above you, ready to burst.

He pulls you off him abruptly, tugging you towards him. “I can’t,” he urges, completely red now, all frenzied and flustered. “Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

Giggling, you swing your leg over him, straddling his lap and smooching his forehead. “Alright, honey. I tormented you enough.” You’re not wearing any panties beneath your nightgown, so when you start to rub yourself on his shaft, his eyes widen in surprise, staring at you, sputtering a mix of curses and nonsense.

You grin, kissing him softly, rocking yourself along his length. “I told you, didn’t I? This pussy is so wet for you. I’ve been prepping myself all night, thinking about you.”

“Fuck, I’m going to come. Put it in, sweetheart. Hurry.”

You guide him in you easily until he bottoms out, sitting on him without moving, licking into his mouth. His hands slide around your hips, holding you tenderly, staying still, melting into your kiss. Before you can start bouncing on him, he squeezes you, huffing, “I’m coming.”

His dick pulsates, spurting his hot seed deep inside you. You continue to kiss him, smiling against his lips, pleased and satisfied. When he’s finished, you graze his ear. “Good boy.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, brows knit together, eyes shut tight. He opens one to peek at you, embarrassed. “This is your fault.” The blush on his face cascades along his neck. “You knew this would happen when you left me that voicemail.”

Laughing, you give him a smooch on his cheek. “You’re right. I was being bad tonight. Are you going to punish me for it?” You tug at his tie, loosening it on his collar, trailing his chest to unbutton his dress shirt.

He relaxes, smirking as he slaps your ass with his palm, cupping the flesh immediately after. You whine his name at the contact, nuzzling into his neck. “Ah, Kento.”

“Bad girls deserve to be punished,” he growls, low and wicked, delivering a fresh smack to the other side. His cock is erect again inside you, stuffing you full once more. “You’re going to take this cock until I can’t get hard anymore. Understand?” He rocks you back and forth on him, thumb pressed at your clit, rubbing small circles. “Until this slutty little cunt is so full of my cum.”

You nod silently, clinging to his shoulders, body trembling with arousal. The switch in demeanor, from him begging you for sweet release to now being domineering and cocky, has you titillating for more. He chuckles, wrapping you in snug embrace, kissing the top of your head. “Look at you, darling. You’re shaking. Let’s go to the bedroom, okay princess?” And his ability to turn on this sweet charm has you softening in his arms, pliant and ready to be played with.

Soon, you’re inside your bedroom, legs spread wide, some residual cum trickling down the inside of your thighs. He strips his remaining clothes off, cock unbelievable rigid in his fist, jerking himself off to the sight of you in your transparent lingerie, his load leaking from your slit.

“You’re a fucking slut for getting me worked up like this,” he grunts, hovering over you, tapping the tip of his dick on your swollen clit. “I edged myself the entire drive, saving all this cum for you.”

You bite your lip, holding back the guttural, animalistic moan escaping from within your throat. His confession has you quaking, eager to be filled even more to the brim with his seed, eager to be bred. You can blame it on the fact that you’re currently in heat, or that you’re just this much in love with your husband that you can’t think of anything else you want more in this moment than to be connected with him. You grip the sheets below you, fanning your thighs impatiently, waiting for his cock. “Breed me, honey. Fuck all your cum inside me. I want all of it, every single drop. Hurry.”

Oh how quickly do the roles reverse.

He slides his cock inside you, his own cum coating it as he pulls out slightly, observing the lewd scene. “Look at how full you are, and it’s still not enough. Such a greedy cum slut.” He spits a frothy wad of his saliva onto your clit, smearing it with his thumb. “You’re going to come on this cock before I give you anything. Got it?”

You nod, closing your eyes, turning your head to the side, losing yourself to the pleasure rippling through your body as he pounds into your pussy, the sensation so intense it resonates all the way down to your toes. He’s so mean, so unlike his usual doting self when he’s in this mood, and you can’t help but succumb to it. He tips your chin back towards him. “Look at it,” he demands. You open your eyes, his expression wild, fucking you faster, his thumb working your clit ruthlessly. “Watch me fuck this messy cunt.” He grips you behind the legs, hoisting you so that your knees are towards your chest, holding you into a mating press. Unable to contain it any longer, you moan loudly, grabbing at your own ankles to keep yourself spread wide for him as he thrusts in and out of you relentlessly.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it sweetheart? To be fucked and pounded by me instead of that silly toy. To use me and milk me dry of every last drop. You asked for this. This is what you get for being so fucking naughty.” He rests one of your legs onto his shoulder, turning to smooch the side of your knee, sucking on your skin.

You continue to moan his name until it’s reduced into a blubber of incoherent cries as you’re pushed over the edge, reaching your climax. “That’s it, come on my cock, princess. That’s a good girl.” Still, he doesn’t ease up; in fact, he fucks you harder, spurred by your orgasm, intent on chasing another. “Just keep taking it, okay beautiful? I know you can do it.” He pounds you into the mattress, the bed creaking noisily beneath you with each solid thrust, perspiration dripping from his body onto yours. You’re no longer thinking clearly; everything is in a haze, blissful and euphoric, only your husband on your brain. He’s fucked all other thoughts out of you. Has you obsessed with his cock, hungry for his cum, keen on him to breed your fertile womb.

“Fuck, Kento, right there! Right there!” you cry out, grasping his hair between your fingers, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss.

“Right there, huh?” he teases, slowing his pace to thrust deep into your G-spot, nails digging into the flesh of your hips. “Always taking me so fucking deep.” He grabs your wrist, placing your hand at your clit. “Touch yourself while I fuck you. Squirt on my cock like a good little slut.”

You obey him, flicking your sensitive bud with your middle finger while he watches intently, another orgasm fast approaching. You twitch around him, pleasure overtaking your entire body, sending a rush of ecstasy that has you seeing stars.

Of course, it still isn’t enough for him. Not after what you put him through earlier. “Turn over,” he mutters, pulling out, cum spilling onto the sheets. “You know what to do.”

He’s right; it’s second nature to you now, to throw your ass back and fuck yourself with his cock. All he has to do is kneel behind you with his hard dick out while you swallow him whole, pumping it in and out of your pussy. It doesn’t matter how pliant you feel, or how fucked out you are, tongue lolling out of your mouth, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. You know exactly what to do to get what you want out of him.

You can feign innocence all you want, pretend to be shocked when he manhandles you like a fucking rag doll, slamming his hips into you, wet slaps bouncing off the walls of your bedroom. Shrieking when he presses his rough fingers to your swollen clit. Burying your face into the pillow, muffling your shameless moans and shrieks of, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” This is what you intended when you spread your legs earlier, phone in your hand, ready to leave that filthy voicemail for him, knowing he’d listen on his way home. Knowing he’d save all his cum for you because you’re ovulating, and he wants more than anything to get you pregnant. Knowing he’d want to fuck you into a frenzy regardless, always desperate to empty his load inside you. It’s what you want because you know he wants it too. That’s what makes it even better, knowing your husband is as feral for you as you are for him.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he whispers, voice wavering.

Craning your neck to face him, you murmur, “Want to see you.”

He smiles, pulling out, your pussy fluttering around the emptiness, already eager to be filled again. “I want to see you too, my love.” He flips you over, pushing your knees towards your ears into a deeper mating press, kissing you sweetly on the lips. You wrap your arms around him, whining his name into his ear as he fucks you rough, the bed frame precariously shifting with each plunge of his cock.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” he groans, cock twitching and spurting every hot pulse inside you. “Take all of my cum, sweetheart. All of it,” he mutters, forehead pressed to yours. “I love you. I love you so much.”

When he finishes, he lowers your legs slowly, rolling beside you to cradle you in his arms. You nestle into his chest, listening to his steadying heartbeat. “Are you okay, sweetie?” he asks, massaging small circles into your back.

You nod against him, remaining silent, too drained to even respond with words. He lets you rest like this for a moment before hopping off the bed, stepping into the bathroom, rummaging through the cupboards. Shortly after, he returns to you with a container of baby wipes in hand and a glass of water in the other.

You’re a mess down there, sleek, wet, and gushing with slick. He kneels beside you, wiping your forehead first from sweat. You peer up at him, smiling, cupping his cheek. “Thank you,” you mouth to him. With another, he cleans your hands, then your legs, always glancing at you to make sure you’re still doing fine. You’re truly grateful for having a spouse as attentive and as caring as your husband, who, despite his typically stoic disposition, always dotes on you so sweetly.

Done cleaning you up, he traces the outline of your lips with his thumb, saying, “Drink water, honey.”

You grumble at him, pretending to be asleep. He chuckles, leaning in closer for a kiss. “And go pee.”

You peek at him with one eye open, nuzzling your nose to his. “Okay, fine. But after you hold me for one more minute.”

He smiles, sliding his arms around you. “Anything you want, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

#nanami smut #nanami kento #kento nanami #kento nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami x f!reader #nanami x fem!reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #nanami fanfic #jjk nanami #husband!nanami #n.sfw links

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forget-meabh-not · 3 months ago

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What are closed culture names ?

This is atleast a gathering of what we learned from researching the concept of closed culture names + responses form this post this isn’t like ,,, a super duper in depth analyzation but it’s something ,

+ link to a Reddit ask abt this concept

Section 1. What does “ closed culture mean ? ”

Closed culture: a culture that is specific to a group of people and that outsiders are not allowed to / highly discouraged in participating in . A example would be Hoodoo

A lot of times closed cultures are closed due to outsiders just being unable to understand the complexities of said culture and their traditions .

Section 2. What is a “ closed culture name “

A closed culture name would be a name that is specific to those in a closed culture that outsiders should not use. Usually the names have specific meanings and are given to specific people / have ties in traditions etc ,

Closed cultural names are NOT just names that have POC origins ( like Asian names , African names etc ) which is what usually people try to say online , closed cultural names are very specific and aren’t a concept exclusive to POC cultures

of course every one is able to have differing opinions about sharing culture with others and stuff but trying to claim that all Asian , African , Spanish etc names are “ closed culture names “ is just factually incorrect.

somone using the name ,, let’s say Aoi as a non Japanese person is not misusing a closed culture name. Aoi is not a closed culture name it is just a name that happens to have Japanese origins. ( aslong as they aren’t using it JUST cuz its Japanese name and they want to seem Japanese or smthing )

anyways uhm yeah rant over hopefully this isn’t confusing ? We tried our very best !/gen

also btw feel free to add on our correct us/gen

note: we also did ask a lot of our IRL POC friends about this and some of them helped us write this /gen

-Vee and Link

+ we are sick rn so our thoughts aren’t the best

#plural #plural system #pluralgang #endo safe #plurality #plural community #actually plural

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waspsinyouryard · 2 years ago

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Alrighty gamers,

As a "reddit refugee" who has been on Tumblr for a year at this point and hopefully knows some stuff about how this website and its userbase operate (even though I haven't been on that frequently), here's what I have learned over the course of my time here that might be helpful to any redditors coming here (long bullet list incoming):

Absolute Basics

Apply a profile picture to your blog. It can be anything, but it needs to be there. If you have a default profile picture then you will probably be blocked on sight by almost everyone. It's not personal; you just look an awful lot like a bot.

Make at least 1 original post on your blog. It can be anything—from a long introduction to a random shitpost—as long as it isn't the sort of post that a bot would make. Maybe hold off on posting sexual gifs with a bunch of random unrelated tags for the time being.

Interaction With Posts

Likes on this platform are sort of like saving posts and comments on Reddit. They do add a note and they can be seen if you don't have your likes set to private, but they don't help spread the post at all and are most useful for later easy access.

Reblogs without added text or tags are mostly analogous to crossposting in function, although not in website culture. Instead, think of it more like taking a screenshot of a post somewhere else online and posting it onto your favorite subreddit of choice. Reblog things you find cool/funny/pretty/have something to add to/whatever frequently.

Comments on Tumblr are mostly like comments on Reddit. The biggest difference is that you can't have comment threads.

Posting (including reblogs)

Tag things when relevant. Especially tag topics that people might want to avoid, like bigotry or very long posts.

In your main text, say whatever it is you feel you want to say/add. If you're reblogging, this is were you put your hilarious zingers that will be forever immortalized by r/tumblr repost bots.

Tags are frequently used to elaborate or say anything that's not the main point of the post or reblog.

Interacting with other users

Don't be afraid to block people.

Don't be afraid to follow people. Following tags is functional, but following people that post things you are interested in is better.

If I'm leading anyone terribly astray, please feel free to add on to and correct this post

#reddit #reddit refugees #reddit refuge #tumblr #r/196 #r196 #196 #because there's a lot of refugees in those tags #also #reddit refugee #singular #just so anyone looking for a post like this can hopefully find it #slightly #long post #curatedtumblr #because that tag also has some refugees posting to it

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kamiiik0 · 5 days ago

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Reminder: it's not the methods it's YOU.

Yes, it's always about you and never the methods. Sure there are dozens of methods to do this to do that to shift to induce pure consciousness to manifest etc etc. But what actually makes these methods work? You. Why is that every method are so different, some being the exact opposite of one another, but they work for people? Is it because the methods are "failproof"? Or is it because YOU are the one deciding that "yeah this method is failproof"? I hope you know the answer by now, If not, then it's because you're the one lowkey deciding that this method works for you. It's always about you, because you're the operant power.

Are methods needed?

simple answer: absolutely not. All you gotta do is decide, and bingo. It's done because creation is finished. Yes distraction technique yes lullaby method yes psych - k, but they will NOT work for you if you decide it won't. Don't get me wrong, the methods are AMAZING and have helped many people in their journey, but then of course some people put these methods on a pedestal and when it "doesn't work" for them they complain, like bffr. You are the one that set yourself up for failure. They work because you DECIDE that it works for you. There's still time, realise your power. Decide that you have it and move on KNOWING that you already have it (cause you do, CREATION IS FINISHED!), or keep trying different methods hoping(😟) they work for you. I'm being dead serious here, your dream life is one decision "away" from you. If you set a firm decision tonight or today that you're gonna shift/ induce pure consciousness/ manifest or that you have already shifted, Induced pure consciousness or manifested xyz, then guess what? It's gonna happen/ it has already happened. It's lowkey that easy.

How to set a decision?

How do you think you opened tumblr? Because of listening to "click tumblr effortlessly, ✨️ 1X MAX; POWERFUL GUARANTEED BOOSTER SUBLIMINAL" and then watching 10 different eye popping jaw dropping videos on how the muscle on your finger works and how to move your finger to open tumblr by the 333 method"? No. Exactly, you decided to open tumblr, and guess what? It opened. Easy as that. How do you think you woke up and ate today? By deciding. how are why are you reading this post right now? Because you decided to read this far. Sure enough you did not need to chant "I can move my fingers easily" or "my eyes can see tumblr effortlessly" 1000 times while reading 50 different reddit articles from Neville Goddard on "how to open tumblr: quick and easy guide" with 4 different subliminals playing in the background to reprogram your mind to click tumblr, right? you knew you could effortlessly move your fingers and click tumblr by just deciding, and boom what YOU decided is what happened. Sure enough deciding doesn't seem so hard now does it?

Seriously, get your game on and DECIDE you have your dream life, stop playing around. I'll be awaiting your success stories, much love. 💋🫶

#law of assumption #law of attraction #manifesting #void state #reality shifting #shifting consciousness #lucid dreaming #neville goddard #shiftblr #shifting blog #i am state #pure consciousness

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carlos-in-glasses · 3 days ago

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Favorite Lone Star Fandom Memories

Thank you @thisbuildinghasfeelings for coming up with this lovely idea! And thank you for the tags @firstprince-history-huh @heartstringsduet @tellmegoodbye @nisbanisba

@carlossreaders @she-walked-away @reyesstrand @rmd-writes

@welcometololaland @nancys-braids @everlastingday @strandnreyes

I have had the best time being part of this fandom so far. Whatever I expected when I first rocked up in September 2022, it wasn't this. What a time we have had. We've been through so much. We've laughed, we've cried, we've swooned, we all became experts on baseball, TV ratings, various laws, and probably know a map of Austin better than we know a map of our own hometowns. I hope with everything I have that this place continues to thrive with love for Tarlos and 911 Lone Star. I hope that I've made some friends for life. I hope that this time during the show's run will be remembered fondly. We got unlucky with this cancellation, but oh my goodness, in other ways we have been so lucky.

First, please enjoy Elaine Paige singing Memory from Cats the Musical. A song for how I'm feeling right now. I promise it's not a Rickroll and I sincerely apologise if you got caught up with me accidentally Rickrolling Lem the other week.

Now! Some memories!:

The time @thisbuildinghasfeelings wanted to know what hospital Carlos would have been taken to after Bridges shot him. I was CRYING LAUGHING because she went to the Texas sub-reddit and was all “Hypothetically, if someone were to get shot in the desert…” and left this message, which quickly got deleted by the mods who probably thought she’d just shot someone:

The time I met @heartstringsduet irl in London last year and wore the below t-shirt, which I got at the 2023 Paris Convention with @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut by my side 😭. And just being able to talk to them in person about life and the show and hug them!!!! And speaking of the 2023 Paris Convention – I got to to look right into the ultimate cow-eyes and tell this guy that he played my favourite character of all time:

The time I got my ass handed to me by @lemonlyman-dotcom because I used the word vest instead of tank top in a WIP.

The fics I wrote that came out of conversations with others/prompts – they wouldn’t exist without some of you. It makes the writing life feel a lot less solitary and also a lot more about the world's most fun mystery box. Thank you so much

Leaving the most batshit comments on poor @rmd-writes and @welcometololaland fic (Un)Professional Services You two really were troopers in the face of that.

Reading fic so good I've spent the next day at work daydreaming about it and looking forward to the next chapters of chaptered fics – and then getting to tell people how much I enjoyed their work! It’s amazing. YOU ARE ALL SO TALENTED.

Posting Sensitivity, my first fic, and refreshing the page to see that I had 8 kudos. I was blown away. And the comments and responses to other fics that have made all the difference during many tough weeks. Thank you, thank you.

The reactions to when I introduced my poor boyfriend to my Tarlos blanket and then when I put it over my legs lmao:

@goodways post about Carlos’ slutty buttonless shirt look in 1x02 – I can’t find the post, but it was gold! And just so many other Shannon posts omg. The blank sign made for Carlos. Iconic.

When @strandnreyes posted this about TK’s absurd camera roll in 4x04.

Of course when Rafael Silva told me that Tarlos switch and @reasonandfaithinharmony made a gif set out of it!

The Tarlos wedding. I brought a mini bottle of Prosecco for the occasion.

The time I thought @ladytessa74 invented Frog and Toad for chapter 3 of The Lovely April. Also...chapter 3 of The Lovely April genuinely helped me cope with the show's cancellation. So that was a biggie.

The art that has been made for my fics by @heartstringsduet @whatsintheboxmh @thisbuildinghasfeelings and @bonheur-cafe. Absolutely extraordinary. I can’t believe it. Thank you forever. Once again, you’re so talented.

Finding the show. Finding you.

Open tag and tags below!:

@paperstorm @goodways @lightningboltreader @alrightbuckaroo

@cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @herefortarlos @bonheur-cafe

@lemonlyman-dotcom @ladytessa74 @liminalmemories21

@freneticfloetry @chicgeekgirl89 @sugdenlovesdingle

@reasonandfaithinharmony @carlos-tk @pimento-playing-hopscotch @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@fangirl-paba @actual-sleeping-beauty @kiwichaeng @literateowl

@emsprovisions @ironheartwriter @sapphic--kiwi @butchreyes

@captain-gillian @laelipoo @nancys-braids @goldenskykaysani

@hereghostslive @anactualcaseofthetruth @henrygrass

@theghostofashton @the-126-family @rangersoup

@annoyingcloudearthquake @butch-buckley - if you want to share/haven't already! No pressure ever! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

#Favorite Fandom Memories #911 Lone Star #Tarlos #cig tagged

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aziraphales-library · 3 days ago

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I'm dying to read Aziraphale annoying Crowley by being the cutest and one flustered demon being unable to help himself being so disgustingly in love with the angel 🥹🥹🥹 can you rec me some? pretty please 🍪💕

I just found this blog now by posting over at reddit: "Are there any fics where Crowley's deeply annoyed by Aziraphale's antics because he's so gd cute he wants to disintegrate? I'd read the hell out of it. Very canon. 😻" Lol. I'm willing to write something like this.... I actually might but wanna read it too 🥹🥹🥹

I know there's lots of these out there. This fandom is the most talented and plentiful I've ever seen :333

Thanks in advance xx

We have a #flustered crowley tag with loads of fics, so check that out. Here are more to add to the collection...

No sunglasses in the bookshop by ineffablegold (G)

The angel’s hands very briefly (but very surely) brushed on Crowley’s chest while he moved and spoke and wriggled oh so endearingly, right over his black shirt and the fallen angel could swear he saw stars again, like before the Beginning and like a flash there they were: nebulas all around him danced and exploded with colours. Crowley inhaled sharply and simply agreed with Aziraphale, no matter on what, he didn’t remember anyway. They’d be fine.

A Moonlit Masquerade by charlieiswritingthings (G)

“Say… How about we give dancing a try? After all, that’s one of the most important things about a masquerade, is it not?” Aziraphale tilts his head a bit, towards the direction of the dancers. His smile falters slightly when he hears what Crowley says next. “I don’t do dancing, Angel. You know that.” Crowley speaks with slight… almost annoyance, very obviously against the idea. Though, Aziraphale hasn’t given up quite yet. “Now, now. That simply won’t do. Let’s go have some fun together, shall we?” Aziraphale stands up, taking Crowley’s hand in his own as he begins walking in the direction of the dancefloor. A defeated sigh is heard coming from Crowley, and he’s forced to abandon his nearly finished glass of wine on the table.

Voicemails (from a Petty Demon) by sugardustedtulips (T)

“That’s it,” Crowley growled, taking large, bold strides toward the yellow Bentley in front of him, leaving the poor cherub blankly standing behind, ostensibly stunned. “What’s what?” Aziraphale asked, hoping he didn’t mean that he’d drive off without him. Surely Crowley wouldn’t be that petty. “I’m not talking to you for the rest of the day,” Crowley whispered matter-of-factly, hissing each sibilant as he punctuated his sentence by theatrically swinging open the car door.

Aziraphale makes the Bentley yellow. Furious, Crowley resorts to giving him the silent treatment. Of course, he misses the angel too much, and can’t help bombarding him with voicemails while locked in their bedroom.

A Midsummer Afternoon's Curse by cyankelpie (G)

(Aziraphale is the victim of a love spell, and needs Crowley’s help to break it. Which is a problem, because it’s very difficult for Crowley to focus while Aziraphale lavishes him with affection.) The rest of the sentence got knocked out of him by a large, off-white blur that flew out of the door and tackled him. “Crowley,” said a familiar voice, though the breathy fondness and affection in said voice was anything but familiar. “I knew you’d come.” Oh. It was Crowley. Crowley was the target of Aziraphale’s magical infatuation. Aziraphale wanted Crowley’s help ridding him of this newfound affection for Crowley. And Crowley, who somehow needed to be the level-headed one in this situation, was utterly fucked.

You Don't Need A Licence For That by WaitingToBeBroken (M)

Crowley works for the city council and is responsible for issuing licences and permits. Aziraphale seems to be hoarding them. Crowley should really reject some of those applications. And he will, once he is done pining over Aziraphale. Really, he will!

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #flustered crowley #mod d

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howaheartbreaks · 8 months ago

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Tried to write this on reddit but the post was too long and thought I’d throw my hand in the tumblr ring:

My interpretation on why Colin’s arc this season matters so much to me.

The benefit and the curse to this season is that to understand the full story arc of Colin and Penelope you have to watch all three seasons. I feel like they could have been more blatant in the text and given them more scenes in part 1 to completely flesh this out and remind the viewer what they’ve been through, but this is all in the text (past seasons) and subtext up until the carriage speech.

Season 1 Colin is romantic and naive. He becomes infatuated with Marina almost at first sight and still probably believes in fairy tale romances. Marina herself says that Colin is eager and does not guard his affections. Anthony has his duties as head of the family, Benedict has his bohemian pursuits, both of them are known flirts and rakes, frequenting brothels often and having had a world of experience. It’s implied that Colin is a virgin and when he proposes to Marina, Anthony scolds him for his naivety and suggests he should have been taken to brothels to be a man and “wet his wick” as if he were experienced, he wouldn’t be so hasty to marry someone he didn’t know. Colin doubles down in his commitment to Marina which then ends in tragedy when it’s revealed she’s pregnant. He understandably falls into depression as he had chosen a purpose (to be a loyal husband in love) and he had gotten screwed over due to his naivety. Colin also has a bit of hero complex, which we can see multiple times throughout season 1 such as when he dances with Pen after Cressida spills her drink. In his duty and loyalness, he confesses that he would have married Marina if she had told him the truth. Colin is very loyal and very protective of those he loves and he sees his value in how he can help and protect others, and having them need him. He makes the decision to do the thing he always wanted to do, travel, as Pen kept reminding him, as a way to become literally, more worldly.

Colin returns in season 2 and finds that people aren’t that interested in his travels nor did they particularly miss him while he was gone, the exception of which was of course Pen. He tries to speak to his family and gets shut down. He feels isolated once more and then also realises he still doesn’t have a sense of purpose, nor does anyone need him. It’s implied he is still sensitive because despite travelling, Colin is still not the man the ton expects him to be. He visits Marina in some naive hope, and she basically tells him to grow up and move on with his life. Penelope and he have a lovely conversation about purpose. He looks into various pursuits and then as we know he gets to be the hero again when he discovered Jack Featherington is swindling the ton and saves the Featheringtons. But Colin is still beheld to the expectations of the ton and when the men are finally paying atttention to him at the ball, he says he would never court Penelope in an attempt to fit in, even though we’ve all just clearly witnessed him go out of his way to save her.

Colin leaves again, and this time he vows to be a changed man. He sleeps around, “grows up”, learns how to be charming and finally when he returns is he warmly greeted by all the women and the men as the ton finally recognises him as a man. Anthony and Benedict clap him on the back, the ladies fawn over him, and men like Fife and Cho engage with him in a way we haven’t seen since he told them he wouldn’t court Penelope. He plays aloof with stories of his travels because he knows the mystery makes people more intrigued than when he told them everything (telling his family he doesn’t remember how many cities he’s been to, and then telling Pen it’s 17 because he knows the answer), and in some cases he is still not comfortable or willing to share personal details of his sexual exploits because he’s still a romantic at heart. Colin feels like he’s nailed it.

Except. He hasn’t. It’s only surface level. The cracks first emerge when he approaches Penelope at the debutante showing, going out of his way to find her (as he always does). She seems closed off and has not written to him all summer. Previously she was the ONLY one to engage him, and probably the only one he could be himself with. Yet that one connection has completely gone. This is pure speculation and unlikely to ever be confirmed, but without Pen’s correspondence it may have even been a catalyst for him to change himself/seduce women. You can tell he’s nervous approaching her, even with his new aesthetic, which he himself remarks are only clothes. She’s closed off and basically dismisses him, probably leaving him feeling a bit stupid. He sees her glow up at the ball (:o) and while he does not approach her but continues to watch her, he runs after her immediately when she runs out, in care for her wellbeing and also because he knows the conversation he is having with the lords is super shallow. She dismisses him again, and then tells him it was his grave error in trying to fit in that made him lose his one deep connection. And then he vows IMMEDIATELY to make amends, calling upon her the next day to make it right. It is his first real and honest conversation. He tells her charm can be taught (he’s faking it), that he seeks her out because she lifts his spirits (he never looks happy in a public setting unless he is with her) and that hers is the one person whose opinion matters the most.

So:

1. Colin was a naive romantic who felt like he had to conform to the approved of society

2. He is faking his true personality (shown in his heartfelt conversation with Pen, how despite everything he seeks her out and values her the most, that he lies about how many cities he’s been to just to seem cooler)

3. He is fighting against societal expectations

4. At this stage he’s still trying to have it all - the women, his family’s approval, the ton’s approval and Pen’s approval.

He goes home and is furious with Lady Whistledown because she has called out his obvious ruse, and he is upset that what he is trying to fake is so obvious.

Episode 2 rolls around and he doesn’t do much except follow her around and fawn after her. His new interests have started to fade immediately as soon as he starts speaking with Pen again. He tells her to be herself and act like they did when they were kids - which is hilarious, considering Colin has attempted to change everything about himself to NOT be himself and NOT act like an adult (the irony Colin is not aware of). It’s her compliments of his writing and his eyes that make him flustered. He entertains women and men at gatherings, but is always looking for her and physically not pleased when she speaks to other men. He laughs with her (honestly, first moment of pure childhood glee for him and he makes a pun which was reminiscent of earlier seasons Colin). He runs after her again and emotionally argues with Eloise, because damn the ton it’s Pen he cares about (my poor sweet boy). He’s so loyal and protective of her. He doesn’t even attempt to dance with anyone at these parties. Hes so distraught she could be suffering that he goes immediately to her, damn the rules of society, and agrees to kiss her and even tries to keep going before she leaves. Because he finally realises that his feelings for Pen are romantic, that it’s not just friendship that he seeks, but a true romantic relationship with his best friend.

He’s awkward and cute as he approaches her the next day, which is the complete opposite of how he’s been trying to act - she is making him act like his former self, his true self. She tells him they should keep their distance and he reluctantly puts on the armour again.

But, Colin actually lasts for like a day before he realises he will go crazy if he does not confess his feelings to Penelope and the entire facade that his has created has completely crumbled by this point - the obsessed boy is BACK. He stops talking to the women in the ton, expresses 0 interest in sex with the prostitutes, entertains a drink with the other lords before going off at them for how shallow and meaningless and fake they all are, and then commits several social faux pas pursuing Pen because he doesn’t care about anything except her anymore.

His confession in the carriage is the culmination of all of this. He’s tried to feel less (because he was too sensitive), he’s tried to grow up (and be a man), he’s tried to flirt and be a rake (because he was too green), and he’s tried to fight against expectations (Penelope not being desirable) but what is the point because all he wants and his entire happiness is centred around Penelope and if she rejected him or married Debling he would have nothing left.

Colin Bridgerton does not care anymore because he is #1 loyal obsessed protective boy and he will go through heaven and earth for Penelope and I love him so much for it.

#bridgerton #polin #penelope featherington #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton s3

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