#anyways. a rich text. a rich discussion lol

[unproduciblesmackdown]

still rotating lsoh in that way of like well it's fun it works well enough where like you know at every turn whatever's happening is supported by Some element coming through as the strength of such material & like the basis of like, you can forget [jrr tolkien voice] the Applicability of the plant when the foundation underneath that is "plant that eats people. would that be fucked up or what" like does it have to be human (i guess) does it have to be mine (i guess not) the answer is if a plant ate people would that be fucked up or what?

the great nexus provided where it's like of course the one "correct" interpretation of The Story here doesn't exist & neither does "here's the way to Present an experience that will be perfect & perfectly interpreted by everyone ever" but it's also Rich Text time enough to have a great time analyzing the workings & results & musing on re- or deconstructions forever. as a "never seen a stage version, only seen the theatrical release movie" i'm like yeah i would blow this whole building up Myself if they die noooo :( no you can't do that and i think it's great that like the full situation is us all having such Multiple versions and that when it's a movie everyone is like well you can't do that. the theory about the difference in medium between stage production & movie for an audience experience, i definitely buy that as a factor. i'm not gonna resolve this in this text post lmao like i'm going "i mean the theatrical ending Also Works, which feels conclusive in its own right, & the issue to me seems like, you know, they're simultaneously standing in for Any/Everyone but just like Any/Everyone they're actually specific people still. if they're not sympathetic then it could be seen as diminishing [don't feed the plants] to [don't do whatever makes them less sympathetic] like rip to your employee but i'm different, i would have done the perfect blood bank heist every other day & done the perfect marketing & then done the perfect plant killing move after doing the perfect planning to know i'd definitely been set for life & making the perfect decision to not let it go on another day & how about another etc"....that no matter how sympathetic you are (and you are, i'd blow this whole building up) don't feed the plants then huh

but. it's a story. we can have different versions and that that's the case even within the [same book] Stage situation, within that no two performances of the same production are The Same, that people sitting in different seats at the same show will have different experiences, notice / focus on different details, have different interpretations because they're different people....i can assume if i'd seen a stage version first i'd go "oh interesting" at the happier ending in the film rather than be like no Noooo the other way around lmfao. again that like, you still get the message. uh oh audrey could've died. uh oh seymour could('ve) die(d) & this plant is malicious & never gonna stop & very hard to kill, we can extrapolate. uh oh is the danger present for anyone? for you? we get it either way so i can't reluctantly give it up lmao. like i get "uh oh the plant even ate them, and You" actually acted out sure can be seen as having more emphasis & clarity. But like also never any absolutes like oh if they live it diminishes that, Maybe in some interpretations, maybe as a matter of preference....but, again, the Tradeoffs coming through. we lose like that emphasis for the rewards of Character. no Metaphor of the plants is ever really gonna shake out, but the tradeoff is always "would that be fucked up or what" and scifi fun.

like, pacing, also just like as ever can't even really declare One Thing for all, for ever, that makes a work a Tragedy, much less the Definitively Successful one or anything. is it tragedy because of tone. because people died. because anything bad enough happened that wasn't undone. because it was "serious" in tone And being "about" something someone deems worth expression / exploration. but always shakespeare problem plays and where does greek tragedy come from & what did it mean & that obviously comedy isn't like there's no consequences, no "substance" or "seriousness" or whatever other supposed metric of Worth by whomever gets to judge that. comedy requiring a level of questioning / analyzing Everything (technically it doesn't, if you do like "comedy is when Some people / things are laughable" which idc about that. Encompassing context / framework or else) and in that there's more room for things that otherwise might be presented as that matter of "tone" defining whether something is "serious." like there's Nothing Unrealistic about from the start it just being matter of fact everyday stuff that audrey's getting beat up but that doesn't make it not "serious" unless the world ground to a halt & everyone else around her fell to their knees. the most serious shit including indeed interpersonal abuse goes on all the time as everyday matter of fact stuff just like that, world still turning, nobody falling to their knees or else it's not that big a deal. again like suppertime sequence is just really ominous lmao like yeah it Would be fucked up if a giant sentient plant ate a person. the horrors of being matter in flux are endless but like "isn't this fucked up" gore or whatever is really never the kind of Vision Of Violence that comes across as half as unpleasantly disturbing as the shit that happens quickly and without much detailed fanfare in my experience/opinion, & this is a bit like that. just spending some time in suspense knowing this plant is gonna eat a guy and then it does, yikes. likewise saying it's memorable like he sure does look like plant food to me, just a what like whole ten second sequence of silhouetted abuse that is perfectly harrowing because we experience audrey's harrowment.

going on a tangent But Not Really and i welcome it, whaddaya gonna do. it's still also more about "these are characters in a story and not Real People but art imitating life style we think of them in the framework as though they're real people. they could be anyone and so could real people, but also, just as with real people, they are specific people" but that like also We're The Audience. we don't have to imagine any particular character or their experiences / pov as "what if this one was me / vice versa" but we also never have to Be these characters b/c we not only Aren't, but they exist to us only As Presented, unlike real people, who exist outside our observation, awareness, assessment. like, real violence happening that isn't only made real by someone outside it standing there Observing, much less necessarily realizing what's going on, nor following it around as it affects someone day to day. the issue of like ""showing"" us in media that someone's been abused. if we see it In Process, it's Not That Bad unless it's supposedly "that bad" all at once, in say like, simply a scene, perhaps merely several, perhaps one episode or movie, etc: and in thusly being "convincing" to an Audience, the reaction can be like "well, obviously it's That Bad. so why would this person put up with it" and the idea that it's the victim's responsibility actually can be accepted, like, since it's so clearly Intolerable, beyond the pale, must be something wrong with Them for tolerating it, if only they'd get it together enough to stand up for themself once & for all. never mind that, yknow, who cares about that, would they deserve this anyways & gosh why is it never about focusing on the people treating them this way. anyways like its leading to "well, couldn't be me" washing your hands of it as you wanted to do anyways. handy if you're presented with Whatever like "oh it's not even that bad anyways" too of course. all versus like, forget what seems "intolerable" like how about "can you escape it. what do you risk happening to you if you try." like people's reactions to Real images of like, someone taking a casual everyday pic of a living situation & it's got a lack of polish that's just like, ordinary Being Poor type of deal. mentioning any detail that's pretty ordinarily a part of that, no matter how they feel about it, and then the way people can have a big reaction like it's perhaps absurd to them in a way inspiring shock, perplexment, rejection/disdain. vs like supposed "oh no, being poor" living situations In Media like, it's either presented as Shocking, the realm of the [omg couldn't be me] consummate Other, or hey, just Not That Bad (i.e. not particularly realistic, just like....maybe shown as less spacious & Interior Designed into relatively sparse detail) like nice just something to vicariously go "how Great (perhaps Of Me, in surely innately being this person who Could Never. i'd never put up with that) that that's so Not Me" like okay, dead end. what if it's not some inviolately Other lower class of inferior Not As Much Of A Person As You people who don't know better or have better taste or better self respect or better moxie or etcccc. then it would ask you not to dehumanize and also it wouldn't end in the realm of Individual Choice as the ultimate / only truly relevant context for "when abuse happens is that fucked up or what"

anyways we can bring it all back to lsoh specifically like it's great they're not like "hope to god nobody's Relating to like, orin, say" like it's not presenting us like well even before you start feeding plants, just don't be jerks, for one. hard to go "rip to your granpa but i'm different" about the applicability focus if we don't go "it'd never apply to Me or otherwise just like, generally" b/c they're up to unsympathetic business. which, also, sidebar, of course i'm not even going "wow, the lesson is Never Murder." like yeah let's kill orin even without the plant, oh well whatever at mr. mushnik lmfao. that also like a whole big thing i think is that lsoh has this clarity about everyone's Broader Situations existing in a context where their individual choices aren't enough to save them from Tragedy, or let them Escape whatever's already shit. like, uh oh, you're already fucked. you don't have family? family's not reliable social support, perhaps including not Not being detrimental / extractive / violent in its own right? well, guess you're fucked. seymour's stuck with this Parent and we see the [your child is your property] there, oh well for him i guess. audrey as A Woman is like well your escape is into being [your wife is your property] and what if he's terrible, oh well, just leave, and do what, and risking what violence to prevent that escape? rewarded with what when you don't have money? both of them having jobs that obviously aren't enough, we aren't presented like "if only they'd been Hardworking enough, or perhaps Savvy enough to be Smartworking" like that'd have Saved them. we Do get like, oh hey, We could be a social unit (i.e., married) lol and it's like well that's a) an option if you want to at all & the genders are deemed proper & b) like well alright lmfao seymour's your friend, great, like that again it doesn't even matter much if it occurred to them like lavender marriage, it's all for the Economic considerations. nor does this really upend the broader context like yeah whew their options are still Limited thusly. this relates right into like yeah get our rod serling Or Is It? ending with Move Into A House type happier ending, but it's also like, of Course there's still limits to what they could do then or at any point, and we'd kind of have to "break out" to have it be anything But some version of like, "yeah nice now we can afford to not live on the street, definitely." which we can do, feasibly lol, just in a way that i think would be less readily conveyed as "okay they'll be fine enough now, we prommy, probably, or will they???" so [yep, that's a Conclusion] for the purposes of a film

when like it goes back to the Inciting Incident, like, well, what are seymour or audrey gonna do out here otherwise? they're in this context where we understand their only escape is [have money] and they're doing that how they can, with jobs, and a guy who'll let them live inside shelter. from this point like i guess they can become revolutionaries but there wouldn't be a "if there was a big plant that talks and eats people would that be fucked up or what" plotline. they can't even go "hey, what if We got married! we could both live somewhere with a roof & walls & not be awful to each other" without more money, probably, and probably without still killing orin (i think this is a great what if lmao. no plant, yes murder). and like then there's consumerism like you have to be told that everything wrong with your life and everything that can possibly be right can be resolved through purchase, audrey ii is advertising for a business, and i mean, stays that [increasing demand, increasing sales] until it's like uhh. quick foray into "actually now there's this [As A Famous Person] interlude where the celebrity is themself not a person but a Product, and in this case likewise now kind of framed as potential advertising for Other products as audrey ii remains for the flower shop until the Cuttings As Product twist" and like even at that point it's like, metaphorically [wow audrey ii is a product] doesn't exactly hold up, [audrey ii is consumerism] is Right There like literal consumption for one lmao and i hardly think like "oh it's not a perfect fit? throw it out" applies here when No metaphor is that, and again like, we do have literal consumerism, audrey framing her ideal life as available for sale to her via magazines, clear [hm, socioeconomics] framing like hm they sure Do just need money or they're fucked, this plant keeps trying to fuck them, illustration of a shift of contextual power from sexual solicitation to aggression (but it was aggressive the whole time also just as it was also the whole time a threateningly giant sentient plant demanding human flesh)

anyways also consumerism like [increasing consumption of goods is always desirable] relevant like ah Infinite Growth you say? that you can go "it's like 'why would vampires want more vampires when that's a dead end lol of someone who stops producing blood' / 'vampires would just run out of humans'" but when it's also like, well haha, irl Application style, wow why would people adopt a practice of "uh oh lol, This isn't sustainable and there'll always be some crash. well not my problem" like yeah audrey ii & clones taking over the world Infinite Growth would hit a wall lmao but doesn't mean uh oh it's not Now breaking through the wall eating Me, in the audience....and you can see the application to like, any Relationship between anyone & anything that apparently requires Infinite Growth, only ever More, only ever a one way process of Extraction for unilateral benefit. and also it's always like, major overlap with the Consumerism but still also a bit different: audrey ii like Commodification. it's just a strange & interesting little venus flytrap, until it's indirectly commodified at least as Business Advertisement, making the other plants into successful commodities. (also shoutout to that one guy. i can see the theory now like he was a plant of the plants to make sure audrey ii would be valuable and nourished. wouldn't change anything at all like, sure, or no, it's Style and Humor, he's a stock Some Guy & it's comedy, nobody's """normal""", unquestioned unexamined "normality" doesn't exist here thank fuck.) but you know, it's like, oh you like botany? well you'd better figure out a way to get rich from that, right. oh you're a Woman, you'd better figure out how to Be the commodity to an extra degree beyond the wage laborer, All domestic work has to be done for free or as close to it as possible, vs paid a bit more for a "job" proper, with the precarities still increasing / decreasing according to different systems of creating classes.

(such as like, see "what about the vampires as like origins in what vulnerable Othered parties are seen as infiltrators that corrupt / kill?" and that class necessarily exists in the socioeconomic context of lsoh, we don't get suburbs without Selling them like "ugh you know the poorer not white and even black people in cities? what if you could access the cities without having to live amongst them, share any resources, as though Equals" and you can try some like libertarian white supremacist analysis like don't feed the plants? white man's burden and eugenics and it's white people struggling for Control that will keep black people out and not killing you and etc. naturally any metaphor falls apart, in what we see there's no particular separation of seymour &/or audrey as inherently other from those poorer than them (although like having poorer people's existence as a "this could be you" ""threat"" requires emphasizing the perspective that, for now, you are Not them) and they're not posited as threatened by proximity / mutual access / equivalency to nonwhite / black people around them, we can infer that Racism Time as an interpretation is not Intended lol but analysis never has to end with inferred or expressed intent, and little concepts like Classes of race, gender, owner vs property, etc aren't Neutral where they're relevant, such as in not just a story set in any twentieth century US city, but Any story say, produced From a perspective that invokes that as Known, any story experienced where we as audience Know of these contexts. all the "normality" of every ideology alleging someone in a group you are impermeably separated from has to stay Other in their systemic subjugation or else everything you have (your elevated status in this very context) will be destroyed, everyone being taught said ideologies, it's not simply "normal" unless & until someone does intentionally explicitly invoke "it's racism time" & racism all over the place, ah, a simple Fiction, unless someone is a woman without explaining why, perhaps openly queer, disabled, nonchristian, nonwhite? why'd you have to make it political. we can just Say like, i suppose this extraterrestrial plant is doing some colonialism. easy. indeed it is some Other, here for infinite growth, eating people like would that be fucked up or what, voiced by a black man, watch this maneuver: even disabled in the context of being effectively a person once introduced as such. everything we can consider when presented with an invading incontrovertible malicious Other, which is Much. rich texts, hooray

but back to the commodification point. you love botany, how can you monetize it? so that it can save you, by way of money, b/c how else can you be saved? also makes me think of [audrey ii as some form of what would be considered Art]. that for art to bring the theoretical Individual Creator Artist Responsible power in the form of money &/or status, for it to be thusly vauable art, the artist has to draw (as in, extract) from their life, from Themself, put themself into it, literally in this case. then potentially have to turn to what access they have to Other people as sources of what made that Successful. but uh oh how do you keep that going forever, when you only have access to so much, when the success / exposure / demand changes everything that made it possible to quietly feed some blood to a weird little plant in a basement in the first place, much less has the Life Of Its Own and is too big for one person / escapes containment in that way. not to say in the least like ah indeed i believe in True Art(tm) and the status of true Artist(tm) or some extrapolation like wow uhh you start with a Woman as your Muse & have a cute little plant & give it a Little blood of course, that's fine, just stop there i guess or you might end up with Mass Media and that's awful....our culture and your kitcsh, our technique and your crafts, our "the 'ideal' (true) artist not worrying about making money off of it" vs "the uncouth impoverished that Does make 'art' for money (or entertainment, the Masses, any other randos, vs the true arbiters & appreciators as selected audience) and if they come up with anything good it was on accident really and we'll just be taking that thank you. ironically. for now" like i also don't think the metaphor goes oh so far here But. the idea that "good" art that'll be valued & bring money, status, Save You, has to have like your blood put into it, You and Your life, or start looking to other people around you whose lives overlap with yours also....could read further into it from that lens, but again really just like Commodification more generally, seymour's personal passion for botany that is thus far outside the flower shop but now he can finally make it be Useful in that it'll bring in money, gotta point to That same as audrey dreaming of products she can Own as concomitant with her ideal life as [pointing to Consumerism]. infinite growth, what if the pyramid scheme never stops, [the ride never ends I Want To Get Off Eternal Damnation post] etc etc

uh well anyways bring it WAY back around, i'm not agreeing to "tragedy is when you go Oh No" like well sometimes it's tragedy and i Don't lmao. sometimes i go Oh No and it's not tragedy. and of course there's no consensus like ah decisively both defined & bounded Genre, format, even medium. i can't relinquish like "b/c i'd go Oh No even harder if they died, i'm [dying ending only] now" lmao ofc i know no one demands picking one or certainly i wouldn't respect such demands nor comply. it's the power of "this is a story and it can be told different ways" like, we can Get the same points even when they don't. it's not like "oh, consumerism can go on forever just fine then" when a) we get a rod serling Or Can It? too anyways and b) we also know and always know these are, in theory, and Would Be in practice if we understand the context of [as if this was Real Life], specific people, not Everybody, now & forever. audrey ii is the pyramid scheme infinite growth inherently unilateral extraction violence consuming capitalism? like well we all feed the plants at all. we can't draw a line Anywhere, such as: when is the financial success too much? the Process of putting the personal into a product form too personally costly for you or anyone? back to like "no you can't control this, yes this will always corrupt & consume no matter who you are or your intentions and sympatheticness or whatever" like then the Metaphor / Applicability being universal, like, even You, aaah it's getting You in the audienceeee is like yep i get that Strength of that [everyone dies. You die] ending lmao. but the strength of They're Specific People [handshake] they live, you live, but still watch out, still, it's not over ending. like you know that other person in reality? that's you, extremely important, however it's also not you, just as extremely important. this tale of these specific people, like, their escape from situations including [interpersonal abuse, we don't need to See one big show of supposedly intolerable, outward suffering; whose life is constrained, who has the power, who can't escape], well they're fucked if they don't have money, so there's only so much [you Failed the cautionary tale so bad you gotta die] like, if they don't, if they only have So Much success and then wanna back out, and then realize like ohh right it's not gonna stop on its own & will also Worsen....like okay lol. how much Difference in "uh oh audrey could've been mortally wounded i guess, good thing she wasn't. Not Today" or "seymour's gotta try to kill it, so he does try. and he succeed. Today, In Fact" like yknow he could try to kill it from the inside and get eaten and we're like aaaa and Then the plant explodes b/c well, he did it, was willing to risk it after realizing the situation, same as we get in the happier theatrical ending. ("theatrical" having some ambiguity...musical theatre....i mean the film though lol)

like that it Can't be conclusive re: some theoretical perfect combination of intention, execution, interpretation. it Is this story. they Are [anyone] they Are [my specific friend seymour. i'll kill for him too] like it's more emphatic a Concept to have whatever worst case scenario, most permanent loss, vs that like, prefer the Practical instead: how much could they do? how much can you do? when it is also constrained by: they have to do the things that facilitate there being a giant talking alien plant that eats people and would that be fucked up or what? when like rather if there was no plant, i think a heist with these two zany besties where the heist is murdering orin and perhaps like ah sorry you do also know too much mr. mushnik is like, well you know that story could happen with these two characters and their personalities and be so much fun. audrey would walk in on that ax murder and start helping. the Medium Difference idk like yeah i'll help them kill whoever, i'll kill that plant, that it's also fiction and magic so of course we can't go "alas....isn't that always the way, it Has to be" like no he could blow it up. no he could kill it from the inside anyways. The Power Of Fiction, always gonna be living that "they both live or i blow the building up" life lol. while simultaneously like i even theoretically get it like no yeah of course they die, is someone else's primary Story ending. while this doesn't change my like No you can't kill them. when because it is a story and not something that actually happened and we're just able to be thinking about Meaning and Effects from something that only exists as a way of communicating an idea of Meaning and Effects like of course it's a multiple choice multiple answers deal, and having multiple versions spices that up

which also. that again like when it is not real life. difficult to pick something of more Impact / Significance than mortality, & Dying as [difficult to think of a more significant Mortality Moment], but like, again in juxtaposing art vs real life like Real death not happening Only to have "meaning" besides that uh oh everyone's mortal and someone just died, in fact. while we don't read meaning into things Only if someone dies for real, even when of course that tends to be interpreted as having import. art imitating life like, of course "don't do this. they did it and died" having impact that perhaps "don't do this. they survived though" doesn't, is gonna be an Interpretation. but there's of course never gonna be actual rules. like oh Always kill them in a cautionary tale. someone like "Wrong never have an actual other being in the cave horror. the cave is one's self, the scariest journey of all" like well i disagree. here we are where to get Us eaten by the plant we have the protagonists eaten by the plant, vs that they'd better not be, while it's not about us. separation from [that is a movie] vs [on stage in front of me? yes, i'm already a part of this] yeah sure maybe i dunno. being closer up? the plant can intrude on the audience like fall from the ceiling and change joe iconis's life but like, a Movie sequence of a plant outgrowing a city and world and even also implicitly fourth wall breaking like, that's not my business. the stakes weren't really raised there in an unbroken sequence from our heroes' demises playing Directly into a finale dropped in the audience's laps that way. i don't know. and what were they gonna do, am i right? i'll kill this vine. hang on besties....like you did make them my friends. we can go "no don't kill them, because of the concepts" and we can go "no don't kill them, because of the concepts, and also they're my friends," truly, while having grasped the [because of the concepts] either way

anyways, amidst the power of [there's no Conclusivity here. yaaay conclusivity as not even the Goal in the first place] whew like how much blood have i put into this one? none. but also addendums. i forgot to musically mention that somewhere that's green opening with that "i know seymour's the greatest...but i'm dating a semi...sadist..." like holy shit lmao superlative right there. addendum that take it way back to the beginning like "so they're fucked if they Don't successfully get more money. or end capitalism" like they go lihn mode. but who says they don't? in this story? already, they Do, the endings aren't that different even as of course it Is that different saying the pretend people's pretend actions in a pretend situation killed them, or didn't. happy ending Or Is It? it's a tuesday like haha oh come here look at this, shaking my head. killing the little plant and hitting the road, the airwaves, with [knife emoji We're Coming For You invasive plant (that eats people)] goals. anything could happen. and it's not that big a deal if they Then just did make money and happen to have more choice in their lives, like, that was the context all along lmao. and, again, if we just kill some mfs ordinary style. seymour as "aw jeez" about it but ya gotta do what you gotta do. which is relevant to like, i also hardly think like oh no it's about the slippery slope of murder. not even once. just say no. & your divine retribution will be eaten by plant, otherwise. he do kinda gotta do, sure, yeah, it's not very meaningful like "i think he could've talked it out & had orin see the light" nor "if i was seymour i would've ingeniously generated flower shop business in the wisest way, free of cost. economics" or otherwise rip but i'm different i would've gotten money in a non feed the plant way, i would've gotten complete control of my life without getting more money, ha ha....take the risk like well gotta try to kill this plant, oh wait, i did, happy ending, maybe there's more out there, dealing with them forever / at any time? sure, maybe! ask musical be more chill all about it.

i had another addendum but while not irrelevant it's also like, truly a whole tangent & maybe i don't have the wherewithal for it at this juncture. so instead yknow tl;dr much to wrestle with like as art imitating life like nobody's "doomed" like the characters died because you had that happen. in reality there were also reasons people died and there was a context that is only their "doom" if drawing a line and washing our hands of it. is a doom we supposedly share as an audience but feel more separated from in thee cinema more cathartic or whatever. whereas if our besties died without us it's like i'm blowing this whole building up, you can't make me was my hands of them and understand myself as Separate, Other, Couldn't Be Me? we may ask ourselves. and idk look at our little guys yknow it's like yeah you can't do this sorry. how do we do it with stage little guys? i don't know, having experienced such neither First nor Ever. tragic deaths, you only don't actually care, or it's like, hey. no. are they So Us that they're Too doomed by dying? idk but of course the success in being upset about it either way. failure is if i don't give a shit, don't have fun & be myself along the way

[dross-the-fish]

First of all I just really want to say I absolutely LOVE your art and specially the way you draw Erik, Leroux-Erik my beloved 😭💕

Ok ANYWAY. I saw your posts discussing about Erik and how the Phandom portray him and Raou, and I really want to point out some of my views (in the healthiest and most polite way possible!!!)

I'm not trying to deny Erik's flaws nor that I have an obvious bias since he's my favorite character ever AAAND Raoul is a character I dislike a LOT for multiple reasons lol but, I want to adress that: Erik is a person that endured multiple ways of abuse and humiliation in his life, since he was a child. He has multiple scenes of trauma response and, as you pointed out your post, acts impulsively many times and also shows clear remorse for his actions. What I think separates him from Raoul is (aside from the obvious class diference and the fact that Erik has a whole history of trauma and evidences of mental illness) the fact that Erik learns something from his selfish, self-destructive behaviour. He *had* a chance to end up with Christine if he didn't so shitty with her, and this is very impactful in the end specially because Leroux didn't treat him as a villain who deserved punishment, but as a traumatized AND completely abandoned person who fucked up pretty bad

Obviously, despite my personal beef with Raoul, I don't think he's some sort of abusive devil or any shit like that. I just think Christine would be better at her own. Forgetting Erik's flaws for a minute — Raoul *is* very manipulative, childish and uncaring towards Christine. He, unlike Erik, doesn't learn from his mistakes and presents the same behavior until the end of the story. Idk my girl Christine could be better at her own, single, following her career. The fact that Raoul was born in a rich family in the 19th century and didn't face any of the poberty or struggles that lower-classed people like Daroga, Erik and Christine had also make his character waaaay more difficult to like in my point of view. I'm NOT SAYING THAT "being rich makes you evil" (duh) nor that Erik's actions are ok, just to be clear! It just bothers me how so many people treat Raoul like a saint little puppy and Erik as a monster, like COME ON

Now, back to Erik: I'm not saying you intended to mean that, but I have a huge problem with how part of the Phandom thinks Erik had malicious intentions when approaching Christine, or that his feelings for her are fake. The "Erik knew precisely what he was doing since the start" really makes sense considering how his redemption arc went in the novel. Obviously this changes a lot in many adaptations (for example he's clearly much more self-aware and manipulative in the musical). But Leroux-Erik *genuinely* believed he was doing the right thing. Maybe he had an idea of "uuuugh maybe this is pretty bad maybe i should stop" but the self-destructive-fear-of-abandoment-everything-is-fine voice spoke louder. Let's not forget that what turned Erik into having such a violent mental breakdown was not "Christine doesn't love me and I must punish her" bullshit, it was when he heard her speaking not so many cool things about him and his appearance at his back (NOT BLAMING OR HATING HER, I love Christine, I'm talking about Erik's pov). If Erik didn't love Christine, or if he was a monster, he wouldn't feel any guilty for his actions. The most impactful thing in the ending of POTO is that Erik realized he had treated the woman he loved like trash and even still she showed him the compassion he needed

Ok ending this long ass text, I just wanted to state that I agree with a lot of your points specially how the Phandom tends to summarize everything to black and white even though most of the characters are all morally grey. I wanted people to stop dehumanizing a mentally ill abuse survivor like Erik while also stop hating on a poor woman who never asked to be put into Raoul's or Erik's bullshit lol thanks for having the patience to read, I'm really curious to know what your thoughts about this are 💕💕💕

I appreciate your courtesy, I understand where you are coming from but there are a few points i'm not sure I fully agree with. While it is fair to depict Erik as traumatized or mentally ill, I feel these are ultimately reasons for his behavior, not justifications. I agree that he is a sympathetic character and his story is a tragic one, I also agree that Erik had a great capacity for good under better circumstances. Leroux says "he had a heart that could hold empires but had to content himself with a cellar," or something to that effect and I believe that's true. But some of Erik's behavior cannot be written off as impulse or trauma response. He was still an assassin who built torture chambers and even when no longer in Persia he still had a torture chamber in his home that he made use of. He has enough agency that he can still be held responsible for all of the death and destruction he caused even as we acknowledge that he doesn't enjoy killing and feels remorse. How he deals with his remorse in particular is a bit of a sticking point for me. Erik's consistent ability to willfully "forget" what he does or completely deny the severity of his crimes is very likely a product of guilt but the presence of guilt is not a sign of virtue and after awhile it starts to feel like he is first and foremost dodging accountability. He never feels guilty enough to stop and prefers instead to alleviate his internal discomfort by emotionally distance himself from his actions. I also think it's important to acknowledge that Erik is a villainous character and he is violent with Christine. He does try terrorize her and coerce her into marrying him by threatening to kill her and everyone else. To be honest that's why I like his redemption, because he actually NEEDS to be redeemed. You can't redeem a character that never fell from grace. If we can't hold him accountable for his choices and acknowledge the full harm he did then his redemption is hollow. On the subject of Raoul, Leroux tends to write him as being kind of young and stupid and most of his boorish behavior the product of youthful impulse and the older I get the more I'm inclined to agree. This doesn't make Raoul right or even necessarily likeable but if we're giving Erik grace based on the author's sentiments towards the character we should probably give some to Raoul as well. Ultimately I feel Raoul redeems himself by proving he's willing to die for Christine. He throws himself into mortal peril to save her because he does love her. Yes, he has a lot of privilege compared to other characters and it certainly contributes to him coming off spoiled and bratty at times but at the end of the day he and Christine do love each other and he is who she chose. I'll admit I sometimes feel compelled to defend Raoul even if he's not remotely close to my favorite character just because the fandom tends to over inflate his flaws and hold him to the worst faith interpretation while making every excuse under the sun for Erik. The phandom will go to great lengths to see nuance and humanity in Erik's behavior but not in Raoul's and, while I have my own character preferences and Erik is certainly my favorite by a long shot, I try to be fair and empathetic to ALL the characters in the story, whether I actually like them or not.

[ilynpilled]

on grrm describing his own style as that of heroic fantasy: how do you feel asoiaf is in conversation with the great man theory of history

ok so im not a historian, and it is not a strong subject of mine by any means, so do not expect that rich of an answer here: i just view the great man theory as only true to the degree that people that find themselves in positions of power will have a degree of influence on history by virtue of that position of great power, and the choices they make will be of great significance as a result, but there are too many forces at play, a lot of complexity that makes it so that the idea of “events shape history, great men create events” feels reductionist. i do not think these things can be attributed to the control and the choices of singular great individuals. i especially do not think that the “great men” of history have innate qualities granted to them at birth that in turn makes them great lol. i think the text treats the whole thing like this too for the most part, but it is a fictional fantasy series at the end of the day. when it comes to george, he is also not that interested in historical processes:

this is grrm’s, who noted before that he considers himself a romantic in the classical sense, approach to heroic fantasy. i do think the text takes apart aspects of the “great man theory”, how that label can even be defined, and how “greatness” in general can be defined, and whatever it is, it is more made, rather than something that is completely innate. there is a reason that a lot of our heroes are undergoing arcs that deliberately goes into the nitty gritty of their experiences, and outlines how they are shaped and evolved through it all. i also like feast’s approach to this conversation, as it hones in on tywin being treated as a “great man”, a kind of man that is “born once every thousand years.” it is a rhetoric that is repeated by his family and associates, but feast looks at the damage he’s done through the eyes of our protagonists, and how this “greatness” stems from mostly terror, and the banality of his evil. how singular is he really? + i think we all know that his legacy will not have a very happy ending. anyway, like he says, he does write from the lens of history being shaped by individual men and women and the choices they make, he just treats them as thoroughly human, and argues that they are like us, so i do not think the point that is being made here is: “people in positions of power deserve to lead due to innate characteristics granted to them at birth which shapes them into heroes.” the text goes into this whole discussion of “the heroes of history” pretty overtly through jaime too:

and there is a lot of grey area here. best & the worst on what terms? we know which heroes are remembered by history here, and how they are labelled, and we can look at why critically.

as george says, he does write like history is shaped by individuals and their choices, glorious and terrible, but the point is that they are not so different from “you & me.” every human being is linked by the capacity to make choices, and we have all have the capacity for good or evil, but it is choices that define us, not anything else. he repeats this in interviews constantly, and it is ever present in the text itself:

and i do think it is a major theme in the story that many essentialist ideas are being taken apart. the protagonists and their agency is always emphasized, and they are, again, largely defined by their choices, and their rearing, not their blood and the way they are born. this is actually why i feel more opposed to the tyrion targaryen theory. like for me, it is not just about the nuances of the whole tywin-tyrion dynamic, i just dont think it would be as thematically meaningful if all three “main characters with the biggest page presence” are tied together like that through royal blood. even if it is not the intention, i find it difficult to remove the implication. like i get that our protagonists are all mostly nobles from great families already (but there are clear heroes in the story that are not that), and it is not like classic hero narratives and chosen one narratives are absent from this story, i just believe george will have stuff up his sleeve to deconstruct and be in conversation with these tropes, and i think this whole “everybody very major is a secret targ” thing would take things too far lol. we will see. magic is interesting to me though. it feels like it is more innate. i think grrm writes with nature & nurturer in mind, and places a lot of emphasis on the latter, but there are magical aspects to the story that do not necessarily abide by this, bc magic is treated as something unique and not universal (i also remember him saying stuff about this, but i dont have the interview at hand), but we will see what direction he will take a lot of it, as the story will get more and more magical. it will still be ambiguous and treated as a force that is not fully understood i assume.

[dballzposting]

hey i just related a probably significant life experience to dragon ball and thought you would give me the least normal answer out of anyone i could ask

so i just got back from therapy with my glasses BROKEN IN HALF in my pockets because i was so tense and crying so hard I CRACKED THEM LIKE A FUCKING PENCIL WITHOUT EVEN NOTICING WHILE TRYING TO CLEAN THEM

and i remembered "hey GT Trunks had glasses" so i wanted to ask you specifically if you think that might have been something that happened to him too because i feel like he could very well get to that point of stress in GT specifically like in a meeting he would get so stressed but try to disguise it and try to clean his probably fake glasses and end up breaking them in half

also it could work in your brain as well because i figure that getting bullshit pseudo psychoanalyzed by SON GOTEN would do that to him too but i don't think he would cry in that kind of situation i feel like hes too Vegeta to cry if Goten ever said something remotely true about him in his rambles spawned via Gohan books he should not have been reading because you know how a broken clock is right at least whatever the fuck the saying was?? well i feel like if that ever happened Trunks would just instinctively break anything he had in his hands at the moment or alternatively if Goten said something so wrong it offended Trunks to the point of violence, which should be a lot because he probably prides himself in being civilized and The One In Control when he really fucking isn't but he tries to be even if its pretty fucking shallow he gets points for effort

Also Future Trunks would probably break something he was holding by accident if you scared him, kinda guy to go super saiyan on accident actually even if it's like once in a blue moon because personally at least i think Future Trunks LOOKS like he would a very calm and understanding person and he is about trivial topics! but he's very emotional and prone to anger otherwise, at least TEEN Future Trunks is very prone to act first before thinking even if it might seem that is not his preferred approach to most situations but like he does act rather rashly all throughout Z so i feel like you could scare him into breaking something or anger him enough to make him go super saiyan accidentally (additionally he would feel bad after realizing he had broken something because yknow when you don't grow up with much you don't really wanna be breaking shit even if your situation gets like better and all? not something that would happen to present trunks, who is rich and should be kicked in the balls or something)

But then again there is Old Man Super Future Trunks (He is forever 17 lol)(He is a 30 year old man in Super)(So he's not even that old but like even Goku looked at least a bit older at 30)(Actually no he didn't he kind of looked the same he did at 18 at 29 never mind) Who i believe is a lot more calm by nature of just being.. Sadder. That is a sad man right there he is pretty fucking miserable but he still has hope he always has hope that's his thing anyway he is soo sad i don't think you could scare HIM into breaking anything or turn him super saiyan on accident i feel like he has his strenght under control these days and if you made him angry enough he would have a very toned down reaction unless it was like a universe threatening deal in which case he would go berserk like he would've as a teenager yknow as he does

also back to the glasses.. I like the idea of the glasses not being fake for some reason i think trunks should get glasses since saiyan hybrid vision CAN deteriorate as seen with Gohan being BLIND AS FUCK so i feel like at some point Trunks would end up damaging his vision since well- i'm pretty sure it was just like flavor text somewhere but Future Trunks enjoys tinkering with machines and as we previously discussed (months ago the fucking bra electric car saga) Trunks would probably be alright with hardware at least, so i find it fun to think that young Future Trunks would try to like fix the dragon radar or something and he'd be either holding it comically close to his face or he'd be completely hunched over like a shrimp and Bulma would walk in and be like "Ooh there is something wrong with his eyes. fuck." and Future Trunks would be like "Oh yeah that makes sense.." and his Gohan never really got to the point of needing glasses but he would probably choose something Gohan would have for his new frames

And if Present Trunks was in that same situation he would drop to the floor defeated and punch it like he was just told he was gonna die tomorrow because he thinks glasses are for nerds and he isn't a fucking nerd and he would refuse to wear them and years later he would be like "Shit i do need glasses alright i'm the smart one anyway i can rock that shit"

This would however not happen to "relatively normal for a saiyan" grown ass man GT Trunks. He would notice if something was wrong with his eyes and get his dumb fake glasses some real lenses.

ok bye goodnight i have nothing else to say EXCEPT look at this picture i found in trunks' wiki

that's it. buenas noches, gente *se cae la lona en la carpa de circo y quedamos a oscuras*

i think it's important to get that sort of energy out when you have it .. Im glad your broke your glasses. But the expression of such energy is more effective and consummate when you are really aware of how your body feels when feelings come on and when you move your muscles. Next time you should break your glasses with more attention and purpose and while really feeling through how it feels to engage those muscles in order to discharge the energy mobilized more efficiently. if you can. for greater healing. If it's not overwhelming in the moment . Not that I care or anythinf .....

Trunks takes his glasses off to clean them as a way to create space between himself and what bullshit these executives are spinning in his meeting room .. And then he looks down and in his hands there is just. Shards. Crumbs if you will

THANK YOU for seeing and acknowledging that Goten "bullshit pseudo psychoanalyze[s]" him. Thank you for knowing that it's bullshit and inspired by his cursory-not-really readings of Gohan & Videl's books. It's so important

I think that it's interesting to see Trunks as someone who purposefully keeps himself composed and calm, even in front of Goten, ESPECIALLY in front of Goten, because Goten just does not work like that. And with all of his time with Trunks, he should be able to see through Trunks's exterior, so even if Trunks is putting up a front (which Goten would take offense to since theyre such good friends), Goten would see through it no problem. And if Trunks doesn't succeed and in that moment breaks his glasses in his hands, Goten would probably definitely notice.

I don't know what he'd say ... Goten would be on again about Trunks's emotional armoring and how his circumcision factors into that (he had a brief conversation with Videl about certain theories by Wilhelm Reich ONCE and now he thinks he knows things and he believes what little he knows 100%). And Trunks takes his glasses off to rub his eyes because he's sick of hearing about his circumcised pingo. And then Goten says something about how Trunks's skin always goes cold when Goten tries to give him kissies and Goten thinks it's because that Trunks rejects the feelings of affection in that moment because he doesnt trust Goten with his feelings since Goten, despite always being emotionally available, has always been player 2 and the younger one, and Trunks doesnt think he can trust little Goten with his feelings + he doesnt want to burden him with that + to give Goten his feelings would admit that Trunks isn't that grand or cool and that his momentous inner self is actually totally manageable, thus retroactively delegitimatizing the way that he's kept to himself his whole life, tobbling Trunks's entire self-image. And Trunks wants to say that this is bullshit but he wants to put his glasses on first and he moves to do that but they're just fucking shattered in his hands

Very interesting about Future Teen Trunks ... I definitely thought that he was calm, careful, and utilitarian. But I also remember watching it and feeling strongly "you can tell he's 17" and maybe that's what I was seeing? The passionate conviction that is perhaps orchestrated with more fire than is due? If he accidentally broke something he would have a proper burial for it like Gohan taught him.

Future Trunks in dragon ball super would not break anything ever becasue he's trained himself not to but I think that deep down he still wants to. He feels feelings and he just wants to squeeze really hard. He just wants to snap something. But he refrains. And that sucks

Future Bulma WOULD notice her son's eyesight. Present Bulma would not. This is becasue she does not notice that her own eyesight is not thsat good. She would be like "here put these goggles on so you can see better" she doesnt think like "hey maybe he and I should wear glasses ALL of the time" becasue she deosnt need to see that well unless building something sooo. Lol. Her vision is good enough. When everyone else can see something she can't she assumes it's just because they're a warrior and they train. If she saw her son hunched over trying to build something she would be like "Stop playing all those video games, you're ruining your eyes!" and then she goes to stare at a screen for 11 hours coding something

Im glad you remembered Bra Software Legend i really liked all of that

HE WOULD FALL TO THE FLOOR AND START PUNCHING IT!!! HE'S NOT A NERD!! But then later he would be cool with it because it makes him look smart and he IS the smart one anyway so it works. HE JUST CHANGES THE CONNOTATIONS OF THE GLASSES SO THAT IT SUITS HIS SELF-IMAGE .. so that he can justify WEARING THEM and BEING ABLE TO SEE!!! thats so perfect ... he just redefines reality

You're right if GT Trunks had to put real lenses in his frames then he would. And quit it with this shit

That's a nice picture Vegeta's such a cunt

*circus closes for the night*

[calxide]

calx’s experiments #1 plans for my upcoming smaus

aye, thanks for 400+ follows! consider this as a special hehe. i will add my thoughts, opinions, concepts, ideas, and outlines in this post.

the smaus that will be discussed in this post are MIXED SIGNALS (kazuha's), CHEMISTRY (albedo's), TWO WORLDS APART (ayato's), PROFESSORS OF LOVE (zhongli's), and another kazuha smau. spoilers ahead!

✧ー MIXED SIGNALS :: ft. kaedehara kazuha x GN!reader

since this won (tbh i'd still publish it sooner than the others if it didn't lol) i continued outlining it and... unfortunately, it didn't turn out to be as light-hearted as everyone might expect it to be so i decided to make two (2) kazuha smau.

before talking about the other smau, i'd like to discuss my plans for this one. (i will be talking about the other kazuha smau at the very end)

this will be a very short smau (i think) so i decided to make a Tagalog version of this one (currently suffering, i regret this decision but it is what it is). narratives/written chapters are going to be written in full English except for the dialogues. the dialogues and texts may be different from each other, but the context and meaning will still be the same as i will not try to translate them directly.

also, don't expect to see the group chat that you saw at calx's experiments #1 main post ー i'll be posting a teaser soon (slay 💅). i won't discuss it much so,, have these tags and warnings instead lol

‎

✧ー CHEMISTRY :: ft. albedo x FEM!reader

TW bullying

i haven't planned much as of now because i want to finish mixed signals first before anything else. i'm still not sure about the length of this smau; it might be longer than mixed signals but shorter (debatable) than abyssal love.

idk what to discuss so have this:

y/n, the reader - you, comes from a rich family. she doesn't really do well in her academics but still manages to get good grades — which her classmates really hate. they blindly assumed that she pays the prestigious school to let her stay and give her good grades. however, albedo knows that that is not the case, therefore, he decided to help. the synopsis is subject to change.

‎

✧ー TWO WORLDS APART :: ft. kamisato ayato x FEM!reader

my notes for this smau is... e m p t y. well, oops, anyways. i really want to work on this smau as soon as possible but i gotta be patient ! also, are you guys good with idol!ayato x photographer!reader? still thinking about what y/n's job should be. do tell if you guys have any suggestions <3 i may not have much for now but expect a shit ton of angst

ayato is a famous idol/actor in inazuma. during his travel in their neighboring country—liyue, he saw a young woman crying. he approached her and offered her a handkerchief and— ok nvm im not gonna spoil anymore kbye

anw, i won't be making a tagalog version of this bc i'm too lazy (🤡), and, expect this to be longer than abyssal love bc there will be so much pining.

⠀

✧ー PROFESSORS OF LOVE :: ft. zhongli x GN!reader

‎if my notes for the ayato smau is empty, well, i don't have notes for this one.. HAHAHAHA what i have in my mind rn is just a cute lighthearted story,, bc i need a break... 💪

y/n and zhongli are both famous professors for their intellect and strong passion for teaching. students would always see the two of them hanging out together, and they thought that they would make a good pair — leading to almost everyone to ship them.

venti is the #1 supporter of the yn x zhongli agenda and supports his students shenanigans when it comes to the two <3

‎⠀

✧ー ENIGMA [stc] :: ft. kaedehara kazuha x FEM!reader

TW death, car accident

this was supposed to be mixed signals but it will be very angsty so i was like NOOOO ok imma just make this into another smau. THUS, the birth of this smau. ALRIGHT!!!!!! get ready for angst AND i'm giving y'all some second lead <33

y/n once live a happy life with her loving parents alongside their blooming business — but all those were gone because of a mishap that occurred one rainy night. throughout the years of finding the truth about the tragic accident, y/n found herself falling for her childhood friend, kaedehara kazuha. kazuha had always been by her side since the day her parents passed away. never did he leave her side, he was always there to support her. but... why?

AAAAA i wanna shout bc i want to do this one SO BADDDD i want to finish every smau that i'm supposed to do so i can get started with this one. i might publish this alongside Professors of Love but i think i'd be able to start this during the summer vacation (april ?) of 2023? i hope i won't be busy by then so i can do this :'))

tags sneak peek!!!!!

[laraplisetski]

Cute -Arisu x Reader-

Request by Anon-

Can I request Arisu fluff? Maybe before Borderland, like best friends to lovers? And if it can be extra fluffy? Thank youuu

A/n: Omg this is my first request after a long time. I had a series of tests for like 2 weeks straight and I didnt even have time to look at anything lol. Also this is my first time writing Arisu so I hope it goes well. Thank you to you too anon :) sorry for any mistakes tho.

Words: 800

Tags: @nekohwa, @koreaweeb, @mn202zzz, @cheshirekitten87, @milky-neptune, @faith0518, @waifuhqlic, @asmileisalwaysbetter, @fantasticwizardnerd, @imthatchishiyasimp, @kekozume

So you and Arisu met at Karubes bar. (I had to think really hard if I wanted you two to meet online in a game, in a game convention, a game shop, at a merch store basically anything to do with games)

You came with your friend because he got a promotion and you two went and sat at the bar.

Now you met Arisu because of Karube rip.

Karube gestured Arisu to come sit beside you because you cause… well his best friend has been single for an eternity. 

But anyways Arisu comes and sits next to you but fails to strike up a conversation anyways so he takes out his phone and starts playing a game. 

Now since he's sitting beside you and the fact that your friend is shit faced drunk compels you look at what Arisu is doing.

Surprise surprise! He's playing that new viral video game that you also play. 

So you ask him what rank he's on and he's really surprised you know about the game so you two gradually start to talk until both of you are full out geeking out about the game.

Alas it's time to take your friend home but before that, instead of asking your number, Arisu adds you to his games friend list instead. 

So now you two play games together whenever you are free cause you actually have a job.

After playing games for a while and exchanging numbers.

One day Arisu texts you about how his dad and brother are being assholes so you tell him to come to this random place.

When he reaches there he sees your car park at the same time so he goes up to you and you tell him to get in. 

(I swear we’re not kidnapping Arisu)

You drive some distance until Arisu sees a fancy looking restaurant and you park right outside it?

What. he's literally wearing a hoodie and some worn out shorts, he cant go inside like this!

You see how he's nervous and you have an idea of what's going on so you reassure him that you've booked a private room and that if he's nervous about anyone seeing him, they won't. 

That seems to calm him down a little.

You two go inside and you guys have like a private dinner much Arisus relief. 

Also he finds out you're rich so now he's panicking like

He literally lives in a tiny little bedroom with no care for himself while youre so accomplished and he thinks you might not want to be best friends with him anymore.

But you quash all his worries because the next time you see him you’re still as sweet and welcoming.

And Arisu’s like, ‘Omg you actually want to be my friend?’

You're like, ‘Weren't we friends all this time lol.’

Arisu just thinks to himself for a moment before going oh yeah. 

So you two become best friends (much to Karubes discontent but he'll take what he can get. At least you have the power to drag Arisu out of his room.)

So after a few months of being friends Arisu started to feel a little strange when he was near you.

Whenever you would tease him or your hands accidentally brushed against his hands he started to feel butterflies in his stomach.

Whenever he would stay over to have a sleepover and he would wrap himself up in one of your blankets he would feel secure because of the smell of your perfume that he oh so loved. 

Whenever he would nerd out with you when discussing game strategies, he would feel a sense of fulfillment. 

Arisu concluded that he just loves to be around you, nothing more.

After a week or two after these continuous feelings, he consulted Karube about it and Karube literally smacked his head on a desk from how oblivious Arisu was and he just took a big sigh until Karube was just like, ‘your in love’ and just walked away. 

Okay so Arisu tried to deny it at first because well yk how could you such an accomplished person date him, a rat who even his father and brother looks down upon.

And so these feelings dwell in his heart until one day you two are just sitting on a couch together and you very sneakily put your arm around him and pull his close, just a little. 

(By that time Arisu’s reduced to a blushing mess)

And you're like ‘I like you. Let's go on a date’

And Arisu just takes some time to comprehend what you just said and he just sits there till he quietly says in a very sad and small voice, ‘Stop messing around with me, I know you were just my friend out of pity-’

Before he could even finish saying his sentence you kneeled down infront of him and took both of his hands and said, ‘Arisu you are the most perfect human being in my eyes okay and you should know that I love you and would never mess around with you. So would you like to be my boyfriend?’ 

[clonewarslover55]

Kal Skirata wears glasses

Now hear me out!! This old bastard needs reading glasses and it is canon. @thealluringsink and I were discussing this earlier. So in the books it says that Skirata is farsighted, and that he puts on his Buy’ce(helmet) to read smaller things like packaging labels.  

So! It is canon that Kal motherfuckin’ Skirata, wears glasses. 

Now I know you all want to hear my chaotic ideas and such about him in glasses so pull up a chair! 

Kal has needed reading glasses most of his life but he doesn’t get them till he’s living at Kyrimorut. The Null’s are tired of their buir squinting at shit so they make Ordo buy him some readers. 

They buy him multiple pairs of reading glasses because Kal loses them 24/7. Like at an annoying level. 

Kal has the little thing that keeps his glasses around his neck. He has multiple of these little chain things. One was knitted by Walon Vau. (@anstarwar and I have talked about Vau knitting many times. Here’s a post)

Before this stubborn bastard got glasses he just put on his helmet whenever he needed to read small text. Just picture Kal in pajamas and a helmet attempting to read some small text. 

Kal does the thing where he can’t find his glasses....While they’re on his fucking head. 

Walon Vau ABSOLUTELY fucks with Kal about this. @thealluringsink and I have some examples for you. 

“Walon Have you seen my glasses?” Kal questions, his reading glasses sitting on the top of his head. Walon kept a straight face, holding in an absurdly loud laugh and many cruel words. 

“No I have not.....” Kal squinted at the taller man, humming low in his throat before marching out of the room to question someone else. Hopefully someone nicer. 

Walon Vau had to hold his breath to keep from laughing. 

Walon enjoys every moment of Kal searching for his glasses. It’s free entertainment after all!! 

He never hides or steals them though. He may or may not have put them on high shelfs from time to time. Good thing Kal has Margret, his IKEA foldable stool, to help him lol 

Vau also fucks with Kal in other ways. 

Vau has perfect teeth, along with perfect eyesight and general health. So he makes sure to show off that he can see just fine. 

Kal was squinting hard at a packaging label, too stubborn to grab his glasses that were across the room. Walon walked up beside him, leaning over his shoulder slightly so he could read the small words. 

“That says-” Vau was quickly cut off by Kal shushing him. 

“I can see it Walon! I don’t need your rich boy eyes!!” Vau bit his lip, walking away before he laughed in the mans face. Skirata would’ve broken his already crooked nose again for laughing at him. 

Kal Skirata also has those little glasses shield things that are like plastic to cover the sides of his eyes. Like little safety glasses for your glasses. (My father that works in a rock quarry wears them so its for construction working people and such) 

He hates his glasses but wears them a lot anyways

Complains that he “Can’t see a kriffing thing without them.” 

little Kad/Venku and the future babies of Kyrimorut have 100% stolen his glasses and put them on because they want to seem like Grandpa Kal 

Please add any funny Kal in glasses things if you have any! I love talking about these things!! 

(Thank you @thealluringsink )

[itsclydebitches]

A preview for the Roman Neo book came out. Did you read it? I didn't but I want to hear your thoughts on it.

I just read it now!

The preview gave us the first chapter and the initial interaction of the second, flipflopping between Neo and Roman's stories, much like BTD. I think Neo's chapter has more to discuss in it, so I'll focus mostly on that.

We're not actually seeing things through her perspective (theoretically — more on that below), but rather Trivia's, a girl turning eight the next day. The chapter covers her playing a game of silent tag with Neo after her mom and dad have gone to bed, accidentally breaking a vase and getting in trouble for it. Some of it is cute — I like the image of a young Neo playing games, including the floor is lava, and that she's presented as Trivia's "imaginary friend" — but the rest is a pretty standard RWBY setup. Honestly, Trivia's life feels like a carbon copy of the Schnee's. Her family is clearly quite rich, what with the Mistral oriental rug they're jumping onto, the expensive vase she breaks, a mound of birthday presents waiting, etc. Her father is some kind of politician, a member of the Vale City Council, and he tries to justify his explosive anger with how hard his work is, things he puts up with for his family. Trivia sees his "barely controlled anger" that later turns to "rage." He holds her upside down after pulling her from beneath the couch (her first instinct is to hide) and shakes her a bit before dropping her. Then he vaguely orders one of the women in the room to clean the mess up before going back to bed. Trivia's mother, meanwhile, is the more nurturing figure, but who inevitably gives in to her husband's temper. Her pushes for leniency fall on deaf ears and later, when Trivia still won't speak when they're alone, she flinches, gets mad, and leaves Trivia alone, repeating her husband's order to clean up this mess. She's kinder, but isn't able to control her husband's cruelty and, inevitably, feeds into it.

Sound like any other family dynamics we've seen?

The father — Jimmy — gets a side of ableism with his generally implied abuse. Interestingly, Trivia is mute with her father telling her to "speak up for yourself" (implying she physically can speak, but struggles emotionally to do so) and her mom, as said, eventually grows frustrated too and leaves when Trivia won't talk to her. I will say that I like that the text includes a communication board, even if both parents clearly don't like Trivia using it, and her muteness certainly introduces an unexpected dynamic. It's unlikely that we have two mute characters who just happen to have become friends (with one sneaking into the house and managing to hide from the parents behind a pile of presents for this whole conversation), so my assumption is that Trivia is Neo. Neo, as a young girl, is born Trivia to rich parents (the family portrait on the book's cover) and imagines herself up a playmate named "Neopolitan." Neo is just like Trivia — they're both mute, the text describes them mirroring each other while playing, they're both wearing fancy dresses, Trivia instinctively knows what Neo is "saying" — but she's better, more acrobatic, more confident, more rebellious... everything a sheltered, probably abused girl would want to be. In time, Trivia gains that skill and confidence (floor is lava makes good acrobatic practice!) and rebrands herself as her own imaginary friend. Interestingly, her mother (with brown eyes) flinches when Trivia makes eye contact with her, which one might do if your kid has mismatched eyes and you dislike that for some reason, such as it not being "normal," as they discuss in regards to her muteness. Brown hair and eye, a pink eye... and the last name Vanille. Ta da, with brown, pink, and white — chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla —you get the name Neopolitan, which Trivia eventually takes on as her real name from then on. (The sweets based name might also be a subconscious homage to her kinder parent — the mom's name is Carmel). We see at the end of the chapter that Trivia is giving in to "Neopolitan's" rebellious nature, grounding the smashed vase into dust, smearing blood on the couch, and leaving the room without cleaning anything up as she was told. All of this makes far more sense if we don't read the girls as two people, but one, with Trivia slowing coming into the personality she's imagined for herself.

I like the setup so far. Yes, it has its potentials for pitfalls in how Neo's mutism and "imaginary friend" is handled, but so far the only thing I dislike is the Schnee 2.0 dynamic, which just feels redundant. I got excited for a moment when the communication board came out, thinking that these might be good parents (good adults!) helping their kid communicate however she's most comfortable... but no. Sigh.

Roman, meanwhile, is a lot more straightforward and... it's fine? Not as engaging as the questions that Neo's chapter raises, but solid. We learn that he's 18 (presumably making him a decade older than Neo then) and that he moved to Mistral about a year ago. He's living on the streets and trying not to freeze or starve to death, camping outside a nightclub to find drunk victims to rob. The part of his chapter we get shows him stealing a man's wallet, pretending to give it back, and then threatening him so he gives up his coat and gloves instead (since the guy blew all his money at the club — the main attraction apparently uses her semblance to lure people in). We end with Roman breaking the man's knee anyway, despite his cooperation. It's precisely the sort of ruthless, street-thug, but obsessed with looking good while he does it (the coat is apparently very fine) that we would expect of Roman.

Detail I really liked? Roman apparently spent a long time practicing twirling his cane in front of a mirror — lol. Detail I didn't like? The night club performer whose semblance was “one of those special abilities some people had that often seemed like magic." How does one semblance seem like magic compared to others that apparently don't? They're all insane abilities?? This franchise still has no good distinction between the two.

Myers also flipflops between strong and weak writing a lot. We've got the strong "[The wealthy] held their noses so high, they didn’t notice what was right under them” when Roman robs the guy of his wallet, followed by the terrible "Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be a punching bag?" when he's trying to threaten him. It's a mixed bag. But I will say that these excerpts feel far, far stronger than what I was reading in BTD. Honestly, reading that I kept wondering why so many in the fandom loved his work, but if what I've read of Roman Holiday is consistent across the book and if that's closer to the quality of ATF, I can much better understand the interest. BTD may have been the fluke among three novels, rather than the rule. Which is great!

[twokinkybeans]

MAKE IT LAST - STARKER MOB BOSS/COFFEE SHOP AU

HERE IT FINALLY IS! So, a few months back we did a prompt line fic thing. This means this one shot is wayyyy late, but it also got wayyyyyyyyyyyy out of hand and is now nearly 11k words long omg.

The prompt line @jeranasblog gave me was: "He had spilled his coffee on the suit of the most dangerous man in New York City." I hope you enjoy! <3 -Lien

Warnings: Adult!Peter Parker, Mob boss!Tony, Barista!Peter, No powers!AU, Peter is a little dense but we still love him, angst, fluff and smut, near the end there are some gruesome threats, abduction, guns, May is mentioned, Obadiah Stane is the bad guy, Bucky and Steve are there, Coffee Shop boss is an OC and has a gambling addiction. Smut tags: NFF, teasing, sexting, masturbation, orgasm delay/denial, hand job with much lube lol, hand & finger kink, praise kink, daddy kink, possessive kink, dry humping, finger sucking, anal fingering

Read “Make It Last” on AO3! Taglist: @the-secret-avenger ​@ironspiidey

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

“Two minutes, Peter- hurry up!” Mister McDougall’s high pitched command reverbs through the coffee shop. In two minutes, it’ll be two PM on the Tuesday afternoon. Peter’s been working here for three years now. Just yet, he tried to quit, but that wasn’t taken kindly. He can still feel the eerie presence of the tip of a knife on his cheekbone. How Peter got himself stuck in this job is a long story. A very long one. You see, the owner of the coffee shop, Mister McDougall, made a deal with New York’s biggest mafia boss to be able to keep the shop and… He wasn’t able to pay back on time. Lucky for Mister McDougall, Peter was working when the Big Boss came to collect. At two PM. On a Tuesday afternoon. A few months ago...

The bell of the front door rang and Peter walked in from the back, smiling kindly. He greeted the rich looking man. “Good afternoon, Sir,” he said in his regular chipper voice. The man cocked an eyebrow over his sunglasses and pursed his lips. His neatly trimmed beard moved along with his expression and he sniffed once. “One black coffee to go,” the man demanded. Peter’s mood didn’t falter. He was used to stern customers, New York generally wasn’t a kind city. Peter smiled and nodded, immediately getting to work. It wasn’t a difficult one to make, after all. He’d ring this guy up in less than a minute. “You know what,” the man suddenly said. “Make that a caramel Frappuccino. Extra whipped cream. Drink here. Make it last.” Make it last? Peter wondered what the man meant with that. It was only then that Peter realized that the man was studying his every movement a little more closely than a regular customer would. It didn’t necessarily make Peter uncomfortable, though. The man was at least twice his age, but it was undeniable that he was the hottest man Peter had ever laid eyes on. Even though his eyes were covered by an expensive pair of sunglasses. Peter quickly moved to pour the milk, but the man’s deep voice filled the empty space again. “Make. It. Last.” Peter blinks, dumbfounded. “You… You want me to work slower?” The man then raised his hand to pull down his glasses slightly, so he could look Peter in the eye properly. Infinite whisky browns stared straight into Peter’s soul. “Yes.” “A-alright,” Peter stuttered and went back to work, tearing his gaze away from the man. If Mister McDougall were here, he’d kill him for working at this pace. But ah well, the customer is always right. The customer is king. And the man he was making the coffee for sure looked like he was in charge. Maybe he would leave a nice tip. “Where’s your boss?” There was a hint of annoyance hidden in the man’s voice. “Mister McDougall?” Peter replied as he turned to grab the caramel. “He’s at a convention on the other side of the country. Was pretty vague about it, to be honest. Something to do with beans.” “Beans,” the man scoffed. “Sure.” He rolled his shoulders and walked to the other side of the counter where Peter would ring him up. His eyes never left the young man. “And he left you in charge of the store on the day he knew I’d show up?” Peter glanced up from his work questioningly, but then shrugged. “Apparently.” “Do you know about our deal?” “Oh!” Peter exclaimed softly as he placed the large cup on the counter. “He mentioned he was working on a business proposal with someone, but I didn’t pry, cause this isn’t my store. I’m sorry, Sir, did he have an appointment with you?” The man gritted his teeth and pushed out his reply. “Yes.” “I could call him now? If you want?” A slight smirk crept up on the man’s face. “Please do.” Peter didn’t hesitate to grab his phone from his back pocket. There usually weren’t any other customers at this hour of the day anyways. He looked up the number of his boss and hit call. “Hey Pete-“ “Hi, Mister McDougall, there’s someone here to see you, but you must’ve forgotten your appointment.” The other end of the line stayed quiet and Peter pulled a face at the customer. “Sir?” More silence. “Do you want me to reschedule it for you?” “Peter,” the customer interrupted them. It didn’t matter how long Peter wore that name tag, he never got used to strangers saying it out of the blue. “Hand me the phone and go to the back. Mister McDougall and I can discuss our arrangement here and now, but I do require some privacy.” Peter blinked once. Twice. And then he slowly moved to give his phone to the man in the suit. “Don’t let your coffee go cold,” Peter said with a curt nod before rushing off to the back. He shuffled to the dishwasher and turned it on to give them some more privacy, the loud rumble of the water inside the machine drowning out any other sound in the back. Not even five minutes later, the man walked into the back with Peter’s phone in hand, a dark smirk plastered on his face. “Your phone,” he said politely, placing the piece of technology in Peter’s palm. Peter smiled warmly. “Thank you, Sir.” He walked passed the man back to the front. The man followed. “No, Peter, thank you,” he chuckled. He grabbed his coffee from the counter and sat down at one of the tables. “Did the arrangement work out okay?” Peter asked innocently. If this man was working together with his boss, it was probably smart to stay kind. Though, that wasn’t all that hard, somehow. There was something about him that lured Peter in- made him feel warm and at home. The man grinned even wider while placing his sunglasses on the table. “Perfect.” His smile turned sour after he took a large sip from his coffee. “Is- is something wrong?” “Eh, no. I’m not one for overly sweet coffees.” Peter swallowed a sassy reply. If he didn’t like Frappuccinos, why would he order one? “Would you like me to make you another one?” “Still got that black coffee there?” “Yes, Sir.” “Very good.” The man left, just as hoped, a big tip and walked out the door with a promise. “See you next week.” Somehow, that made Peter’s stomach tingle. He did want to see the man again. There was something mysterious about him. Alluring. Their conversations were interesting and surprisingly eloquent. The man was very smart and Peter found himself loosening up more as the chat went on. The man let him. It was nice. That night, when Peter wanted to message a friend, he wondered when he added “TS” in his contact list. He didn’t recognize the number, but he couldn’t be bothered to look it up either. From then on, every Tuesday at two PM on the dot, the man walked in. Mister McDougall was always nervous about his arrival and usually fled to the back, leaving Peter to take care of the customer. But more often than not, he’d leave Peter in charge of the store entirely, leaving for appointments or errands whenever the man was bound to come in. Peter learned the man’s name is Tony and their conversations were always pleasant. Interesting. They talked about Peter’s life, mostly. Tony always managed to make everything about the college student, earning his cash as a barista. Peter didn’t mind, but he couldn’t help that he was curious. Tony offhandedly said he worked in real estate, when Peter asked. That and ‘some other things.’ He learned Tony was a tinkerer and a scientist in his free time. That he enjoys fixing up old cars, modern art and what he called ‘a good fuck.’ The comment had Peter blush a bright red. A blush Tony would always compliment whenever it crept up to his ears. Something about Tony drew Peter in. Maybe it was their casual conversation. Maybe it was his compliments. Maybe even his smile? Though, Peter’s smile always faltered as soon as other customers came in, since Tony would usually leave the store when they did. One day, the customers appeared to be his employees. And they all stayed. Two men, both tall and wide. One was blond, clean shaven and the other had slightly longer brown hair and a trimmed beard. “So, this is your Tuesday retreat, boss?” the blond quipped before ordering an americano. “Shouldn’t you be working?” Tony sassily replied, leaning back in his chair. “Coffee break,” the brown haired man said simply. Tony scoffed and waved it off. The three men were awfully picky about what they said and how they said it, Peter could tell, but that might just be private business stuff, so he didn’t pry. After they finished their drinks and walked out the door, Peter blushed again when the brown-haired man spoke. “That sure was a good coffee. I’d come here every Tuesday too, if I knew I’d be served by such a good lookin’ young man.” The compliment was paired with a wink. The door closed and Peter laughed softly to himself when Tony gave the brown-haired man a gentle slap at the back of his head to scold him. … One Tuesday, Peter called in sick. He lived to regret that. Mister McDougall was furious, but Peter couldn’t help that he was down with the flu and he didn’t want to make other customers sick. Especially not the man he’d grown to like so much. He got a text, later. TS: Are you okay? Peter: Who is this? TS: Tony. TS: Black coffee Tony. Peter: Oh! Peter: Sorry, I wasn’t at the shop today. Caught the flu, I think. Hope not worse. Glued to bed rn. TS: Got it bad? Peter: Can barely stand, tbh. Coughing a lot and it sounds weird. Don’t wanna make anyone sick. TS: That’s sweet. Peter: Just lookin out for the little guy. TS: I’m not little. Peter: Didn’t meant it like that, omgg, im sorry! TS: I’m messing with you. Peter: Ohh 🙈 It was quiet for a little bit, and Peter nearly fell asleep again if it weren’t for his screen lighting up. TS: Can I get you anything? Peter: I’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll be fine. I mean it. TS: Peter. Tony wasn’t even in the same room as Peter, yet he knew exactly how Tony would’ve said his name if he were. Peter: I’m a college student. Meds are out of the picture. Don’t have much cash. TS: I do. And after not even half an hour, there was a doctor on Peter’s doorstep to check on him. Pneumonia in its early stages. A few days of antibiotics and he should be good as new. He wasn’t sure how Tony knew his address, but figured he got it from Mister McDougall. True to the doctor’s words, Peter was up and running again in a few days and on Tuesday, two PM on the dot, Tony walked into the shop with a wide grin and spread arms. “Good afternoon to my favorite barista,” he quipped. Peter grinned and cocked his head. “Good afternoon to my favorite customer.” “Oh,” Tony gasped, placing his palm on his chest. “You flatter me.” “Do I? With the tips you leave, everyone must like to see you.” “Most rather see me go, trust me.” Tony loudly cleared his throat and evaded Peter’s gaze to collect himself, before he casually leaned over the counter. “Black.” His coffee order is followed by his usual command. “Make it last.” “All I do is press a button, Sir, it’s pretty hard to make a black coffee last.” Peter laughed quietly as he started rubbing a cloth over the counter to clean it while the coffee set. “Then make yourself what you like.” Peter stared at Tony for a second before turning to grab another, taller cup. “Would you laugh if I said it’s a caramel Frappuccino.” He licked his lips. “With extra whipped cream?” “No,” Tony replied immediately. His voice was lower. Darker. Hotter. “It fits you.” “Does it?” Peter chuckled as he handed Tony the black coffee. “Overly sweet,” Tony said with a nod, toasting and raising the cup to his lips. He glanced at Peter and then repeated himself. “It fits you.” Peter slowly moved around the bar, preparing his own Frappuccino. “Thought you didn’t like caramel Frappuccinos?” “I like you.” Peter didn’t halt his movements as he worked himself around the coffee machines, though, his body went at a whole different speed than his brain. Did Tony actually just say that? “I think I like you too.” The reply had left Peter’s lips before he could even process the thought. “You think?” This time, Peter stopped. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” It was barely a whisper. His hand was stuck on the lever and he bit his lip. “Wha- dating?” Peter opted to ignore the implication of what Tony just said and instead, replied honestly. “Flirting.” “Oh, pretty boy, you’ve got a lot to learn. And experience.” Goosebumps spread over Peter’s body at Tony’s words and he closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was because he felt embarrassed or… Something else. This was the first time Tony called him anything like this and it felt like they both stepped over some sort of threshold they had both been ghosting by for a while now. Tony brought him back to the present with his trademarked sniff. “I have no need to rush things. If you’re interested, we’ll take it slow.” Peter finally turned his head to look at Tony with big eyes. Tony just smirked and quipped with a wink. “We’ll make it last.” … Peter: You up? It was two AM. Two Tuesdays later. Tony had become a lot more flirty and a lot more forthcoming with his sweet words and suggestive praise after they addressed their interest in each other. Most of it was via text, but whenever he was at the store, Peter could see Tony’s dilated pupils, could feel the man’s hot breath as Peter explained how one of the machines worked with Tony right behind him. He admired Tony for holding back too. He knew Peter wanted to take things slow, heck, he even suggested it. And he never snapped. Never broke. Never did anything out of line. Sure, his words were suggestive, but he never acted upon any primal needs. He was a gentleman. And it made Peter respect him even more. It also made him want Tony even more. Peter bathed himself in the compliments Tony peppered him with and Peter realized the man knew everything he said and did made Peter… Needy. Peter was fairly sure Tony was already asleep, but after all the sweet and… slightly filthy things the man had been saying to him that day, he couldn’t help himself, he had to jerk off. And he needed Tony to help him with that. TS: Been working. You’re up late. Don’t you have uni tomorrow? Peter sighed gratefully as he typed one handed, the other already creeping down to cup his half-hard shaft through his sweatpants. Peter: I do. TS: Hm. TS: Then why would you message me so late, huh? Peter wanted to scoff. Of course, Tony knew. The man just wanted Peter to say it. And… Peter kind of liked it. No matter how embarrassing. He typed and erased. And typed and erased. Typed and erased. He really wanted to send Tony what he wanted, but he felt like too much of a chicken to actually say it. He needed Tony’s sweet words. His… His filth. Peter: I’m,, eh… TS: Hm? Peter: Talk to me like you do in the shop? Please? TS: How I talk to you in the shop is a lot tamer than what I think you need right now. Peter hid his face in his pillow for a second, before taking a deep breath and finding the courage to reply. Peter: What do I need then? TS: You need me. Without a filter. But before I tell you anything… Where are you right now? What are you wearing? Talk to me, first. Peter: Alone. Bedroom. Bed. Sweat pants. T-shirt. TS: Turn off autocorrect, baby, how am I supposed to know you’re losing yourself if I see full words? Peter: happyy now? TS: Yes. One-handed, huh? Already touching yourself? Peter: mhm, thruogh fabric. TS: Alright, first things first, pretty thing, take off all your clothes. TS: Make it last. Peter complied immediately and he both loved and hated the slow movements he used to slide off his shirt. When his sweatpants were down on his knees, his screen lit up. TS: Are you making it last? Peter: yes TS: Good boy. Peter didn’t expect to moan so loud, but he did. The praise blasted through him and went straight to the cock that now rested against his abdomen. Stiff. Twitching. Leaking. Peter: say thatagain TS: Earn it. Peter: how TS: By being good for me, my sweet. Are you naked? Peter: almost TS: Let me know when you’re done. Peter was almost afraid that when he finally finished undressing after another minute, it was still too fast for Tony. He decided to make the jump, though. Peter: done TS: Lovely. Hard, baby boy? Peter let out a soft growl and was already struggling to type. Peter: ys, for you TS: Touch yourself for me. Go on, hump the hand you make my coffee with, Peter. It felt perfect – absolutely perfect – to wrap his fingers around his cock, now that he was doing it on demand. He couldn’t even hold back if he tried. His thrusts were relentless, straight away. Peter: Yyes yes TS: Oh, I wish I could see how pretty you look right now. How you roll your hips and fuck your fist. TS: Want to see the sweat drip from your temples, want to hear your soft gasps and moans. TS: Want to hear my name fall from your lips. Say my name, Peter. Say it. “Tony- O-oh-“ Peter gasped and he barely managed to keep his eyes open to watch the next few messages come in. TS: Don’t come. Not yet. TS: Slow down. Peter: nn tony please TS: Make. TS: It. TS: Last. Peter felt the tears stream down his cheeks. He felt so good. But he couldn’t come. Not with Tony right here with him telling him not to. Peter: yes sir TS: Good boy. Peter: feelsso good when u callme that TS: Mm. It does, doesn’t it? You know what makes me feel good? Peter: ?/ TS: When you call me Sir. A dreamy smile spread across Peter’s face as he lazily stroked his cock. His hips kept rolling, arching his back and lifting off the mattress with each thrust. His intellect had melted away. All he wanted was to feel good for Tony. TS: You know what else would make me feel really good? Peter: nno? Sir TS: If my good boy called me Daddy. Peter had to stop his hand or he would’ve cum right then and there. And he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He simply had to make it last. Instead, he moaned obscenely. Peter: ggod, nearlu came TS: Did you now? Peter: yes daddy Peter: held back TS: Oh, you’re so sweet for me. Wish I could taste that awful Frappuccino on your lips. Suckle on your tongue as I squeeze your cock, run my thumb over the head. TS: You have no idea how much I want to make you come for me. Peter: wanna cum for u Peter: faster?????????????/ TS: Speed up, baby. Show Daddy how desperate you are for him. Such a good boy for asking permission. The fact that Tony’s messages were still put together as opposed to Peter’s near button-mashes had another rush of arousal flow through Peter. Everything about what was happening was so hot. He’d never done anything like this before. He never even had sex in his life. And now the hottest man in New York was sexting him. God, he wished he could see Tony right now. Was he naked too? Was he stroking himself? Maybe he was fingering himself. Or fucking himself on a dildo so he still had two hands to type his coherent sentences with. Shit, that’d be so hot. Though, the image of Tony at his desk, working while casually messaging Peter all these things as if it’s just a regular chat about their day was even hotter. Tony, in his tailored suit, barely bothered by Peter’s desperation. Fuck. Peter: Yes yys ddaddy thanku TS: Mhm. It didn’t take long for Peter to get near the edge again. He was barely able to contain himself, phone shaking in his hand with every jerk of his other fist. Peter: close TS: Are you now? Peter: ya TS: Do you want to come? Peter: eys yes so badsoo bad TS: What do good boys say when they want to come? Peter squeezed his eyes shut, gasping and writhing on his sheets. His toes curled as he whined and begged while typing. “P-please-“ he muttered. “Please, please, please-“ Peter: pleease TS: Please, what? That’s it, Peter couldn’t type anymore. Didn’t want to type anymore. Instead, he hit the voice record button. “D-daddy, wanna cum, I wanna cum so bad, please, may I?” His lines were paired with moans and sobs. Desperation dripped from every word. Every thrust of his hips, every squeeze of his fingers, had him see stars. He had to come, he simply had to. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Lucky for Peter, it didn’t take long for Tony to reply with a voice message of his own. His deep, dark voice, coated with lust, like fresh honey, echoed through Peter’s simple bedroom. “Come, Peter. Come for Daddy.” … As time went on, Peter realized that Mister McDougall didn’t like to have Peter around anymore. Every chore he had to do, every command he had to follow, everything McDougall asked of him; he was never good enough. Peter felt like a nuisance. And he wanted out. He felt a weight fall off his shoulders when an on campus lab learned of Peter’s skills and offered him a job. So now, a few weeks after Peter and Tony started sexting, Peter told Mister McDougall he wanted to quit. “You can’t,” was the short reply. It had Peter nearly explode with frustration. “I can, though? I got a job offer in one of the labs on campus, I’m not letting this fly by!” Mister McDougall grabbed Peter’s shoulders and dragged him to the back by his shirt. He nearly flung the young man against the large dishwasher. “You’ll ruin me! You’ll get me killed!” “Don’t be so dramatic!” Peter yelled back. He was done working for Mister McDougall. So done. Peter swallowed his next words when a knife was suddenly pointed at his nose. He stared at it wide-eyed as he got ushered into a corner. “Tony owns this building, Peter, and the only reason I’m allowed to stay here is because you work here.” “Wha-“ “SHUT UP! You shut your mouth! I’d have fired you ages ago if it weren’t for him!” Tears pricked in the corners of Peter’s eyes. “If you leave, I’m going to pay your aunt a visit. And none of us will like what I’ll do to her.” What was happening? What was going on? Why did his boss threaten him like this? “S-sir?” “You’re not quitting, you hear me? You’re gonna get your ass back on the floor and you’re gonna do your job. As long as Tony doesn’t hate you, I can keep this business. You don’t want me to lose this business do you?” He waved the knife, pushing it towards Peter’s left eye and resting the tip right below it. The young man leaned back as far as the wall allowed him to. “Do you?!” Peter didn’t even dare to blink. “No, sir,” he lied. “Why are you so scared of him?” Mister McDougall laughed maniacally. “Why aren’t you?!” He yelled. “That’s Tony Stark! He owns sixty percent of New York!” The world stopped spinning. Tony - Peter’s Tony - is Tony Stark. The biggest, baddest Mafia Boss of New York. Known to be vile, relentless and cruel to anyone who dares to cross his path. And Peter… Peter had fallen in love with him. No. No, he didn’t. He fell in love with Tony. Not with Stark. But if they were one and the same, maybe the stories were wrong? Maybe- “You didn’t know?” Mister McDougall stepped back and let his arm down. Peter finally allowed himself to breathe, even if it was the worst intake of air he’d ever done. He held back his tears with everything he had. “No.” “Jesus Christ.” Mister McDougall threw his hands up, flailing the knife around. “You’re an idiot!” “But-“ A quiet beep came from McDougall’s wrist. He looked at his watch and turned. “Two minutes, Peter- hurry up!” Mister McDougall’s high pitched command reverbs through the coffee shop. In two minutes, it’ll be two PM on the Tuesday afternoon. Peter’s been working here for three years now. Just yet, he tried to quit, but that wasn’t taken kindly. He can still feel the eerie presence of the tip of a knife on his cheekbone. How Peter got himself stuck in this job is a long story. A very long one. “Get to work.” Peter swallowed and blinked away his tears as he walked into the front of the store. He took a deep breath and fumbled with some of the cups on the counter. Mister McDougall stayed in the back, as usual. Peter looked up, startled, when the bell rang. Tony walked in, blissfully unaware and leaned on the counter like he always did. Peter was bad at hiding his fear, he knew that, and it didn’t even take a second before Tony caught on. “Did you cry?” His question was blunt. Straight to the point. “I’m alright, I hit my head.” Peter had to pause to clear his throat in the middle of his sentence. His words were small. Unsure. Tony didn’t buy it. “Who hurt you?” A shiver ran up Peter’s spine. He couldn’t tell Tony about what Mister McDougall did to him. As much as he disliked the man, he didn’t want the deadliest man in the area to… To hurt him. Peter didn’t dare think of the k word. But more importantly, he didn’t want anything to happen to May. “Me,” Peter tried to sound cheerful, but his voice shook. “I hit my head. I hurt me.” Peter finished up the black coffee and turned to give it to Tony, so he could start making his own Frappuccino. Tony wanted to take his hand, but Peter swiftly turned around. He played the machine to make his own drink, but he couldn’t focus. He couldn’t make it last. He had to get it done. As fast as possible. He had to get this over with. Tony spoke, but Peter didn’t hear it. He could already feel the tears threatening to glide down his cheeks. He couldn’t pretend. He couldn’t- Tony grabbed Peter’s wrist from over the counter and the Frappuccino cup slipped from the barista’s fingers. Peter stared wide-eyed at how the scorching hot liquid gushed onto Tony’s suit. The stain was evident, but Tony seemed unfazed by the heat. Peter’s lip trembled and he was certain there was no oxygen left in the store. He had spilled his coffee on the suit of the most dangerous man in New York City. Peter barely dared to look up, but when he saw Tony’s expression, his shoulders fell. The way the man looked at him was… Vulnerable. “You’re afraid.” Tony’s voice was fragile. “Of me?” Peter squeezed his eyes shut, letting the tears flow freely now. He screwed up. He screwed everything up. “I don’t know,” Peter replied honestly, through quiet sobs. Tony swiftly jumped over the counter so he could embrace Peter. “Talk to me, Bambino.” “I- I didn’t know-“ “Didn’t know what?” “S-Stark-“ “Yes, Frappuccino, that’s me.” “Did you just call me-“ “Yes, did it make you feel better?” Peter scoffed, but managed to smile. “A little.” Tony then pushed Peter away from him to force the young man to look him in the eye by holding Peter’s chin between his thumb and index finger. “Did you really not know?” Now Peter feels stupid. He should’ve caught on, obviously. Everybody knew Tony Stark. Peter pushed his lips together and gently shook his head. “Oh, bother,” Tony mumbled as he pulled Peter against his chest to hug him tightly. Peter’s insides were in a struggle. Every part of his rational brain told him to get out of there. To push Tony away. The man was bad news. He reeked of danger, yet… He smelled so wonderful. His cologne invaded Peter’s nostrils and there was no way the young man could let go of him. The way his arms were wrapped around Peter’s shoulders, the way he held him, kept him warm and safe... No matter how frightening Tony might be, Peter felt protected. He was exactly where he was supposed to be. Peter’s face was pressed against Tony’s shirt and he could feel the wet coffee stain from Tony’s suit seep onto his own pants. A hand found its way into Peter’s hair and gently started massaging his scalp. The soft lips Peter had only imagined up until now, pressed themselves onto his curls and stayed there, leaving long, slow pecks. Sometimes, Tony hummed. With every passing second, Peter’s muscles relaxed more and more until his body practically went limp against Tony’s. “Now…” The man finally spoke. He gently pushed Peter away from him until he could look Peter in the eyes, hands cupping his face. His thumb gently stroked away the drying tears and he smiled kindly. “Who hurt you?” Peter’s pouting lips were pressed together. He tried to hide the truth, but one quick glance towards the back and Tony knew enough. “Please, don’t kill him,” Peter whispered. Tony scoffed softly. “Is that why you’re suddenly afraid of me?” Tony pushed forward slightly, until something long and hard pressed against Peter’s thigh. And it wasn’t Tony’s cock. “Cause I’m not just happy to see you?” Peter whimpered and closed his eyes, still not wanting to leave Tony’s embrace, even though he was afraid of what might happen next. “Do you know why I own 64.7 percent of New York?” Peter shook his head lightly, focusing his attention on Tony’s warm hands still keeping his face up by his cheeks. “Because I don’t just shoot whoever gets in my way. I give people a chance,” Tony said matter of factly. “Take your boss, for example. This building? It’s mine.” The way Tony enunciated the word, not just verbally but also with a soft squeeze of his hands, had a shiver run down Peter’s spine. “Ex-gambling addict who wanted to get back on track. Promising fellow. Clean for years. He loaned a chunk of my money to start his business. All was good. A thriving coffee store can make quite a bit of money in this area in New York. During my first visit I learned that not everything I offered him went into this shop. Told him I wanted the money back that he didn’t spend on the store. He also couldn’t pay rent. Somehow.” Peter breathlessly listened to everything that came out of Tony’s mouth. “I gave him another shot. Told him to have my money ready in a month. That’s a fair time to make what he owed me. And when I came into the store to collect… I found you. And your boss? Well, he wasn’t exactly at a convention. He was at the other side of the country, though. In Vegas.” Tony sighed and broke eye contact for a few seconds. “This is where it gets embarrassing…” He mumbled. “Embarrassing?” “I was completely enamored by you, Peter.” Tony’s eyes reconnect with Peter’s and they lock gazes. “And I decided that, when you called McDougall, I’d change the deal. He’d get a delay on his debt as long as you would be there to serve me coffee. On Tuesdays. At two PM. Figured you’d stick around for a while, give McDougall enough time to cover his ass.” “So,” Tony cocked his head. “After half a year, he still doesn’t have my money. And I’m guessing you want to quit the job?” Peter nodded, face contorting. “He had a knife and-“ “A knife?” The energy in the room changed abruptly. From loving and caring to dark and aggressive. Peter immediately pulled back, but Tony’s grip on him tightened. “He threatened you?” He seethed. “No- Tony, please,” Peter begged, but he didn’t fight. “Is he in the back?” Tony stared Peter down with an intense gaze. The young barista froze. “Peter.” “Yes.” Peter felt small, yet his body betrayed him when his cock stirred at Tony’s authoritative voice. Tony guided Peter to one of the chairs and gently sat him down. His hands caressed Peter’s curls before he pressed another kiss on top of them. He bent down until he squatted in front of Peter and looked up reassuringly. “I will not physically harm him, I promise. I just want to have a word with him, okay?” “Okay…” Tony smiled and nodded before standing up and making his way towards the back. Before he disappeared, Tony looked behind him one more time and winked at Peter. Probably to relieve the tension. Not long after Tony went to the back, Peter was startled by the doorbell. He looked up and quickly collected himself before greeting the customer, wiping the remainder of his dried tears away. “Good afternoon, Sir, how can I help you?” Peter barely managed to put up his customer smile. The man was a bit scruffy looking, dark haired and he had a slight beard. There was a strange look in his eye. Peter wanted to walk around the counter to his usual spot to take the order, but the man stopped him. “Hold it there.” Peter paused his trek and turned back to the man with a questioning look. The man suddenly bolted for him, but Peter realized too late he was holding something in his hand. Peter tried to yell but before any sound could leave his mouth, it was covered by a damp cloth. His eyes went wide as he stared straight into the other man’s. He had no choice but to inhale the strange and intense, sweet scent of whatever was in that piece of fabric. The man didn’t smile, nor did he look angry. He seemed rather indifferent. The man’s other arm wrapped around Peter’s body, right before he lost the strength in his muscles and dropped against the man’s chest. Peter’s mind suddenly felt over-stuffed with fuzz and it was only a few seconds before his muffled scream died out and his eyes rolled back. Right when Peter lost himself, the man spoke softly, with a mocking tone, before carrying him out of the coffee shop. “Night night.” … Peter’s head felt like it was going to burst. He could barely open his eyes, but the hand that pulled him back at his hair in the uncomfortable chair forced him to wake up. He gasped for air, squinting his eyes into slits in the bright light. “Wakey, wakey.” A dark voice echoed through the room, ringing Peter’s ears. He finally managed to open his eyes when the light was blocked by a shape. A person. “Eh…” A soft whine escaped Peter’s lips, but the sound wasn’t taken kindly. The person- man- yanked at his hair, causing Peter to wince in pain. The man was bald, but had a thick beard. A scowl pulled the strangers bushy eyebrows together and Peter’s entire body tensed when he spotted the gun in the man’s other hand. “So…” The man leaned in and cocked his head. “All this trouble for a twink.” Peter tightened his jaw even further and kept his lips glued together. The man quite forcefully let go of Peter’s hair, allowing Peter to take in his surroundings. They were in a plain room, nothing too interesting. Peter could hear seagulls outside. They were probably close to water? The door was guarded by two imposing looking men, one of them Peter recognized as the guy who took him out. In the darkness of the room, a camera seemed to be recording them, judging by the red light flickering in the corner. “Barista,” Peter mumbled, staring at the gun in the guards’ hands.. “Excuse me?” The man pushed into Peter’s space again, seemingly offended. Peter held his breath, but replied anyways, eyes locking with the bald man’s. “I’m just a barista.” “Just a-“ the man interrupted himself, put his hands on his hips and leaned back, letting out an over the top laugh. When he finally calmed himself again, he bolted forward, pressing the gun against Peter’s neck. The young man instinctively tilted his head up, eyes wide at the unexpected aggression. “You,” the man spit out accusingly. “Tony seems to think more of you.” “He doesn’t,” Peter bluffed, silently swearing at himself for his reckless bravery. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. “I just make his coffee. Black. Every Tuesday.” “Right,” the man scoffed and revealed Peter’s unlocked phone from his inner pocket. “And does just making his coffee include a happy ending?” “N-no-, it’s-“ “Nighttime sexting? Then?” The man sauntered around Peter, casually scrolling through Tony’s and Peter’s chat. “Was hoping to find some intel, but all I got was your disgusting conversations.” Peter swallowed hard. He angled his head to look down so that he wouldn’t have to meet the man’s judging eyes. “I’m not gonna lie,” the man sighed. “Those voice messages? Your moans? They’d rile up anyone.” Peter gently tugged at his restraints, pressing his eyes shut. To say he was afraid of what the man could and might do to him was an understatement. The thought alone paralyzed him. There was a pressing ache in his chest and a growing need to get out of there. If only he could move. “What do you want from me,” Peter managed to push out. The man chuckled darkly. “I want at least 75% of what Stark has.” The man stopped circling Peter to gently push the tip of his gun through the young man’s hair- toying with it. “And you’re going to make sure he gives it to me.” “As if,” Peter replied simply, immediately swallowing his confidence. It now weighs heavy in his stomach. One short glance at the guards made them leave the room. They shut the door behind them and Peter couldn’t help but hold his breath. “Tell the camera-“ The man gestured at the red flashing dot. “-Tell Tony- what to do. If he doesn’t give me what I want, I will take what he wants most.” Peter looked up at the man confused, but the man’s smirk made the student’s legs burst with adrenaline. He wanted to run away, but he couldn’t. He’s bound. The man’s eyes sparkled and turned to slits. The wide toothy grin plastered on his face had Peter’s heart drop. “You.” “Oh, don’t worry about that ol’ camera.” A familiar voice said from the door opening. Peter and the man turned their heads towards it surprised. There, Tony lazily stood against the door post, the two men that Peter had met one Tuesday accompanying him. The guards that were there before were now laying on the floor. Peter quietly hoped they were nothing more than unconscious. “You can ask me, right here, right now, Stane.” Tony absentmindedly studied the pistol in his hand, turning and twisting it. Loading it. “Tsk. Answer’s gonna be no, though.” He moved to stand up straight, confidence oozing off every inch of him. “I’m here to take back what’s mine.” A shiver ran down Peter’s spine and he gulped when the gun that was still aimed at him pushed under his jaw. He dropped his head backwards in an attempt to get away from it and whined quietly. Peter’s breath quivered and he squeezed his eyes shut again. “If you want your boy to live, you’re gonna do exactly what I want.” “Hmm.” Tony grinned. “If you put a bullet in his head, I’m not even gonna use my gun.” He squared up, tightening every muscle in his body. The look in his eye was dark and resolute. “Will let you pick how you go, though. Could snap your neck- stick a knife through your brain. Wiggle it around a little to make your corpse spasm. Heck, I’ll rearrange your guts first if you want me to. Bet that’ll feel real nice.” Peter could barely believe the words falling from the man’s lips were Tony’s. Apparently, neither could the guy Tony called Stane. “You’re all talk, Stark. Never seen you hurt a damn fly, that’s what you got your goons for,” Stane sneered accusingly. “First time for everything,” Tony replied collected. Stane then pulled loose the ropes around Peter’s body and pulled him up, forcing him to stand with his back flush against the man’s chest. Stane wouldn’t allow him to stand comfortably, keeping him up on his toes as the nuzzle of the gun pressed up under his chin. As free as the lack of ropes made Peter feel, the presence of the gun annihilated any feeling of liberty. “Obadiah, I swear to mother Maria, if you so much as leave a scratch on Peter, you will regret it.” Stane didn’t seem fazed by Tony’s threats. He had the upper hand after all. He had Peter. “We’re leaving now. Don’t think I won’t shoot. I will.” Peter complied the nudge in his back, taking small steps in the direction of the door. Obadiah moved the gun until it rested against Peter’s temple. “Step into the room.” Tony’s jaw tightened, but after a few seconds he cast his eyes downward, entering the space. His bluffing hadn’t worked and the soft shaking of his clenched fist betrayed his frustration. He genuinely seemed afraid to lose Peter. In return, Peter was afraid to lose him. The two men Tony had brought with him, joined him silently. When they were all far away enough from the door, Obadiah shuffled Peter to the opening. They reached the hallway and Stane forced Peter to step over the – hopefully – unconscious guards. All Peter could think was ‘No-no-no-no-‘ at the mere idea of being taken to another location. One Tony might not be able to find him at. One he might actually die at. Peter took a deep breath and decided to do something reckless. He could only die once anyways. The second Obadiah pulled the gun back a little to give Peter more walking space, the barista ducked away from the gun, pivoted on his feet and pushed Stane back into the wall with all the force he had. There was a gunshot. One that had Peter’s eyes go wide. With the lack of pain or blood, Peter realized Stane had missed. Adrenaline pumped through his body at an incredibly rapid pace. Peter fell backwards on his ass and saw Obadiah’s gun that had been dropped in the process. The student scrambled to grab it in a reflex. He pushed himself back against the wall, knees up, eyes unblinking and wide, as he aimed the gun two-handedly at Stane who laid there with his hands up. The feral look in Peter’s eye told the small gang leader enough. No matter how scared, this kid would shoot if he had to. Peter couldn’t blink. He just couldn’t. He barely heard the footsteps next to him. Barely felt a hand rest on his shoulder, as another lifted to be placed on Peter’s shaking hands, holding the gun. All Peter could do was stare at Obadiah, stinging tears nearly obstructing his view. His breathing was quick and erratic and he didn’t realize how much he was vibrating until Tony’s voice pushed through the veil, clouding his mind. “I need you to let go of the gun for me.” Peter only clutched the weapon tighter, his finger twitched on the trigger. His breathing was loud and fast, making his entire body buzz with tension. “Boss, he’s in shock, he won’t-“ “Peter,” Tony said a little softer. “I’m right here, Frappuccino, look at me.” The hand that was on his shoulder before, now cupped Peter’s chin, gently forcing him to turn his head. Peter’s eyes didn’t leave Obadiah, though. He held his breath, hearing his heartbeat thump in his brain. “Peter…” For the first time in what felt like forever, Peter blinked, which caused the tears that had been threatening to spill up until now to glide down his cheeks. He found himself staring at Tony’s face as his body slowly lost tension. The man’s brows were furrowed, but his expression was soft. He carefully took the gun out of Peter’s hands and pulled him in for an embrace. Peter hid his face against the man’s chest and couldn’t help but sob into it, adding another stain to Tony’s expensive suit. “Oh, Peter.” Tony’s voice was muffled against Peter’s hair. “You’re okay, we’re okay.” Just like he did earlier that day in the coffee shop, his fingers tangled in Peter’s hair and started massaging his scalp. “You’re with me now, ‘s all good.” Another time, Peter would’ve been embarrassed for being pulled into Tony’s lap in front of all these strangers, but right now he couldn’t care less. His arms wrapped tightly around Tony’s torso as the man left his dragged out, flat kisses on Peter’s head. “M-sorry,” Peter mumbled between sobs, curling up into Tony’s embrace and tugging in his legs. “Sorry-“ “Ssh, ssh- you have nothing to be sorry for, my sweet.” They stayed like that for a short while, Tony rocking Peter back and forth until his heartbeat settled and his muscles relaxed. Eventually, Tony stood up, carrying Peter bridal style. “Let me take you home.” … Peter woke up among the softest of silk sheets, surrounded by an abundance of throw pillows, wearing nothing but his underwear and an oversized white T-shirt with a V-neck. Everything smelled like Tony. Peter groaned at the stiffness of his muscles and turned around, half surprised by Tony sitting on an armchair next to the large canopy bed. “Morning, sunshine,” he said with a smile. Tony was wearing sweats and a similar T-shirt. The corners of Peter’s mouth curled up too and he instinctively folded into himself, pulling the sheets up to his chin. “Morning.” “How are you feeling?” Tony leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Little stiff,” Peter answered honestly. As if on cue, his stomach growled. “And hungry.” “My cook’s making us breakfast as we speak. Should be here soon.” “I knew you were rich, but a personal chef?” Peter chuckled. “Isn’t that a bit overkill?” “Look, kid,” Tony laughed, sitting up straight again. “I don’t have time to make my own meals. I’m a busy man.” “Busy enough to visit me every Tuesday at two,” Peter teased, the sparkle in his eyes evident. Tony seemed relieved Peter was acting like his usual self. “Hey, hey,” he said, shaking his head. “I scheduled in that time. I always wanted you to have my undivided attention. That was my me-time.” Peter’s smile faltered. “Was,” he parroted quietly. There was no way he could go back to his barista job. To mister McDougall. Not that he particularly wanted to work for that man anymore, but it felt like this pleasant chapter of this life ended with a terrible cliffhanger. Now, Peter was at the start of the next chapter, going through the repercussions of what happened before. “Pete, I-“ “Where are we?” Tony seemed taken aback by the interruption, but collected himself swiftly. “Home,” Tony replied matter of fact. “My home, to be precise.” He cleared his throat and looked away uncharacteristically shyly. “Could be yours too if you want.” Peter didn’t reply straight away, which caused Tony to stand up and raise his hands in a defensive manner. “But we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves.” There was a knock on the door and Tony cocked an eyebrow at it. “Breakfast,” a muffled voice spoke. “Come in.” A man with a giant tray opened the door. He walked in quickly and placed it on the table next to Tony. “Take the rest of the day off. Paid leave. Tell the others the same, save for the guards outside. I want this house empty within an hour.” The cook nodded and thanked Tony for his generosity. Not long after, Peter and Tony were alone again. Peter stared at the over-filled tray and licked his lips. “Anything that tickles your fancy?” Tony’s words are accompanied with a smirk. “A coffee sounds good right about now.” Tony immediately perked up and turned to grab the carefully made Frappuccino, but before he could curl his fingers around the cup, Peter continued: “Actually-“ Tony looks at Peter surprised. Peter grins and nods at the other cup on the tray. “After everything that happened, I could go for something stronger.” “Peter Parker, are you taking my black coffee from me?” Tony chuckled. Peter pulled himself up so he sat up straight among the throw pillows. He then reached forward with both arms, making grabby hands at Tony. “Mayyybe,” he teased. Tony laughed as he complied, handing Peter the black coffee. Peter gratefully took a sip and pulled a face at the bitterness burning his throat. “Sure you don’t want the sugar, sugar?” Peter snorted and nearly spilled the coffee on the bed. He looked into the deep black of the cup in his hands and then up at Tony. “Fine,” Peter said with a grin, offering Tony the black coffee. Peter waited for the older man to give him the Frappuccino, but instead, Tony stood up. “Here,” he said, lifting the tray and placing it on the bedside table. “Mind if I join you?” Peter didn’t answer, he just lifted the sheets. Gratefully, Tony slid in, placing himself flush against Peter and handing him the Frappuccino. For a short while, they just sipped their coffees, not exchanging any words. Peter occasionally glanced at the food on the bedside table, unable to choose where he’d even start. He let go of his thoughts for a little bit, letting his mind wander to yesterday. To Obadiah Stane, to the rope burn on his wrists, the feel of the gun against his head, in his hand, the trigger under his finger. Tony. Tony was there to save him. “I’m here to take back what’s mine.” Peter was his. And while his rational brain was scared of this mob boss side of Tony that he only just learned about, there was something exhilarating about it too. Tony was still Tony- still the same man Peter made all these black coffees for, the man he had late night conversations with via text. Peter thought back to before he lost himself to sleep, how he was being cradled by Tony, sitting in his lap. The memory made him feel warm, somehow. Peter swallowed and took a breath. “I felt safe,” Peter whispered. “Hm?” Tony turned his head slightly and put down his now empty cup on the nightstand. “Yesterday.” Peter’s brows furrowed as he kept staring ahead. “In your lap.” He paused, trying to put his thoughts in a row and say something a bit more sophisticated. However, he couldn’t think of the right words, so he just repeated himself. “I felt safe.” It was quiet for a second. “Do…” Tony sniffed once and tugged at the tray on Peter’s side of the bed. “Do you want to sit on my lap now?” Peter’s mouth went dry, even though he just finished his coffee. The tension between them hung thick in the air. He looked at Tony wide-eyed, but quickly averted his gaze again. “Yes,” he mumbled, nothing more than a whisper. “What was that?” “Yes… Please?” “Good boy.” Peter shivered and closed his eyes, but only until he felt Tony gently pulling at his arm. He didn’t struggle as Tony guided him to sit on his thighs, back pressed against the older man’s chest. “Oh, Bambino,” Tony cooed as Peter’s ass pressed against Tony’s already hardening shaft. “Been through so much. Let me help you.” Peter wanted to ask what Tony meant, but the man had already taken the mug from Peter’s hands, placed it on the bedside table and grabbed a blueberry muffin from the breakfast tray. “Hold this,” he ordered, giving the muffin to Peter. Their hands grazed past each other, eliciting a small gasp from the younger man. Tony immediately moved to rip a small piece off of it and brought it up to Peter’s lips. Peter stared entranced at Tony’s rough hand. “Go on, my sweet,” Tony whispered into Peter’s hair. “Eat up.” Peter leaned in and opened his mouth. He carefully maneuvered himself in an attempt not to touch Tony’s fingers, not wanting to be weird or gross, but Tony had other plans. He pushed in his fingers to help the piece into Peter’s mouth and then brushed his fingers over Peter’s lips. Peter didn’t realize his eyes were closed, but there wasn’t much to see anyways- save for the lusciously decorated room. Peter was more occupied with feeling right now. And boy, did Tony’s lips on his neck feel absolutely perfect. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweet taste on his tongue. Tony’s free arm was possessively curled around Peter to caress his neck from the front, grazing past his Adam’s apple and gently squeezing right under his jaw until he swallowed. Tony presented Peter with another bite, but this time he really pushed his fingers in. Peter wrapped his lips around the digits and sucked, moaning softly. “That’s it…” Peter absentmindedly spread his legs on Tony’s lap, arching his back to grind into Tony’s groin. Tony’s other hand found its way down Peter’s body until it cupped Peter’s balls through his underwear. Peter immediately pushed into it and gasped at the gentle rubbing of Tony’s thumb. “Thaaat’s it…” Tony took his fingers out of Peter’s mouth, a small string of saliva dripping down, to take the muffin out of Peter’s hands, put it on the tray and then stick his fingers into the small bowl of jam. His other hand fondles Peter at a steady rhythm and Peter rolls his hips along with it. “Feeling good for Daddy, Peter?” The young man smiles lazily and nods, letting his head fall back against Tony’s shoulder. “Y-yes,” Peter whimpered. “Feels so good.” An overly sweet scent filled Peter’s nostrils. He opened his eyes to see Tony’s jam covered fingers. He stared at them transfixed, mouth already opening, tongue hanging out, ready to take it all. “Atta boy,” Tony whispered, suckling on Peter’s skin. “Don’t hold back. It’s all yours…” Peter didn’t hesitate and grabbed Tony’s hand with both of his own, pulling it toward him to lick the sweet strawberry jam off of Tony’s fingers. The fingers of one hand were curled around just the thumb, while the other gripped onto the man’s palm. “Don’t hold back,” Tony repeated with a squeeze of his hand around Peter’s clothed cock. The young man immediately moaned louder, pressing himself against Tony harder and licking the man’s fingers clean in a near-obscene manner. “Aren’t you a good boy?” Tony growled as he slowly started to push up against Peter’s ass. Peter groaned and clenched around nothing, working his way down Tony’s hand and suckling at the golden ring on his index finger. “Yours,” Peter gasped between licks. “Your good boy-“ Apparently those were the right words, because Tony let out a guttural moan and within seconds, they were flipped over with Peter lying on his back on the bed and Tony possessively hovering over him, caging Peter with his arms. Peter was met with Tony’s dark pools and twitching nose. There was something animalistic about the otherwise so collected man Peter had served coffee to. It had Peter’s cock throb with anticipation. Tony’s wet fingers pushed under Peter’s shirt to tweak and tug at one of his nipples. “Mine,” Tony pushed out, immediately moving in to ravage Peter’s lips himself, tasting the flavors Peter had only just taken in. Peter, in turn, could taste the bitter coffee. “My sweet.” Peter pulled at Tony’s shirt, quietly telling Tony he wanted them to get naked. The man seemed to understand and within a minute all clothes were discarded. Tony’s cock stood tall and proud and had a girth that had Peter drooling. He wanted it in his mouth. ASAP. “Eager, eager,” Tony chuckled darkly as he saw Peter’s eyes locked on the swaying dick in front of him. Peter’s gaze broke free and he gave Tony a pleading look. “Next time, my sweet.” Tony leaned in to give Peter a short, passionate kiss while his hands squeezed nearly half a lube bottle all over Peter’s groin, slicking him up as Tony massaged every inch of skin. Peter immediately granted Tony access into his mouth and Tony eagerly licked the insides. He pulled back again and grinned. “You first.” Tony’s free hand grabbed hold of Peter’s cock, squeezing it until Peter saw stars. His hips bucked up into Tony’s touch while his hands grabbed at the sheets in an attempt to ground himself as Tony’s hands pleasured him. He moaned with every loudly-squishing jerk of Tony’s hand, but it wasn’t going fast enough. “More-more-more, please, Daddy-“ Tony seemed pleased with the begging, because the hand at Peter’s nipple slowly travelled down his toned body, grabbing and coating itself with the excess lube. “Sure you want more?” Tony had a wicked grin on his face. “Cause I can give you everything.” He curled his tongue up to lick his own teeth. “If you think you can handle it.” “Yes,” Peter gasped, arching his back more, pressing his head into the throw pillows. “Please, please, want everything, want it all, want you-“ “Good answer.” Tony’s praise goes paired with him mercilessly pushing his index finger into Peter’s tight hole. The young man gasped at the sudden sting, but his expression turned to absolute bliss in an instant. He clenched and unclenched around Tony’s digit and soon enough, Tony started pulling out and pushing back in, curling his finger in the process, in search of Peter’s… Sweet spot. “God, yes, T-Tony, Daddy-“ Peter moaned as his body rocked under Tony’s attention. “Mr. Stark-!” Tony’s eyes went wide, revealing a previously unseen aggression behind them. His movements became more forceful and he lowered his face until it was right in front of Peter’s. “Yes, boy, call me that again. Do it.” “M-Mi-“ Peter squeezed his eyes shut, completely overwhelmed by all the sensations and the tightening knot in his abdomen. His balls were tight and his heartbeat throbbed everywhere. “Whose cock is this, Peter, tell me who it belongs to-“ Tony let his thumb glide over the tip of Peter’s cock as he quickened his pace and the intensity of his jerks. “Yours- Mr. Stark, it’s y-yours!” Peter’s reply was rewarded with Tony’s mouth sucking marks on Peter’s neck. “And this hole? Huh? Who does this belong to?” Right when Tony uttered the words, he found what he’d been looking for. Peter opened his mouth wide in a silent scream as his body convulsed. “Yes, yes, yours, yours-“ Tony attacked Peter’s prostate without remorse, not halting any movement. He was good at this and he owned it. He owned Peter. “And your mouth? Your chest and your arms and your legs and your neck-“ Tony cut his own rambles short by biting into the skin right below Peter’s jaw, eliciting another loud moan from him. “Mr. Stark’s, his- his, yours!” “That’s it, good boy, it’s all mine. You’re all mine!” “F-fuck, I’m gonna come, Mr. Stark- Please, please-“ Peter’s gasps were erratic. The complete polar opposite of Tony’s near robotic movements. Along the way, he had added two more fingers into Peter’s sopping hole and he kept pumping mercilessly, curling his fingers at just the right moment. The young man was practically folded in two on the bed, taking everything Tony was giving him. He’d never felt this good in his entire life and he basked in the hot sheen covering his body. All his fantasies, all their sexts, were now reality. Tony stayed true to his word. Everything he had promised Peter, he was now giving- almost forcing- upon the young man and he loved it. They both did. “So close, my sweet, stay on that edge for me, don’t tip over just yet-“ Tony growled. “Make...” The young man found himself humping into Tony’s fist, moaning at the trademarked line that had started falling from the mob boss’s lips. “It…“ Peter whined as his body shook, trying to hold onto the last bit of sanity that he had left before he would lose it all and spill. “Last…“ Every part of Peter’s being writhed and convulsed at the scorching pleasure pumping through him. He had to make it last. He had to wait. Had to drag it out. Felt so good. Too good. Yes, yes- yes! “That’s it… Just a little longer,” Tony encouraged. Peter’s eyes rolled back and to his dismay, Tony sped up even more. “Haaa-,” Every muscle in Peter’s body shook with tension, ready for that blissful release. “Yeees, good boy, such a good boy, hold on…” Tony’s breath was hot on Peter’s lips. His deep voice vibrated through Peter’s body, sending even more surges of arousal through him. “Open your eyes. Look at me.” Peter’s jaw was locked as his eyes fluttered open. He stared straight into Tony’s and the sight had his toes curl. “Come.” Peter’s vision went white at the intense eruption bursting from him. If he screamed, he didn’t hear himself. All he could do was experience it. White streaks covered his abdomen and Tony’s hand and the overstimulating sensation of his orgasm seemed to last forever. After who-knows-how-long, Peter came down from his high, panting and twitching on the mattress, body completely limp. Tony was lying next to him, whispering sweet praise into his ear and slowly bringing Peter back to reality with his calming voice and caressing hands. Peter blinked a few times, his vision sharpening again until Tony was completely in focus. The man smiled. “Good morning, sunshine,” he repeated himself. Peter chuckled and cuddled up against Tony’s chest. Tony immediately embraced him, tangling their legs together. “Morning,” Peter laughed softly. It was quiet for a minute while Peter cleared his mind, basking in the afterglow of what was the most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced. “Thank you,” he whispered against Tony’s body. The man kissed the top of Peter’s head, humming softly. “No, my sweet, thank you.” After another hour of cuddling together Peter shuffled back so he could look Tony in the eye. “We should probably get out, don’t we?” Tony smiled kindly, pressing his fingers through Peter’s curls. “Work can wait.” “I wasn’t talking about work…” There was a playful sparkle in Peter’s eyes. “I want to explore this place.” “Can’t we cuddle a little longer?” “I’ll stay naked,” Peter teased. “We’re alone anyways… And I’ll make you coffee?” “Are you trying to bribe me with coffee that requires pressing one button?” Tony teased right back. Peter moved to sit up straight and tossed the sheets on top of Tony. He jumped out of bed, his cock already hardening again and bouncing with every movement. Tony grinned and seemed to be enjoying this newfound confidence Peter had. “I don’t know, Mr. Stark, am I?” Peter sauntered towards the door and opened it swiftly, arching his back and showing off his toned body as he walked through. Tony’s cock, that had started softening up after not getting any attention last round, sprung back to life at the sight. “Could make the coffee last, but… I’m sure there are other rooms in this place where I could make it last?” Tony laughed positively wicked and crawled over the bed towards Peter. The young man squealed delighted and ran out into the hallway. Tony stepped out of the bed and started chasing his good boy through the mansion.

[houseofanubis-iscool]

House of Anubis characters as things I have said/texted recently that made people laugh.

Nina: "The realest kind of self development is being mature enough to think back on things your high school bullies said to you and be able to say "ha! iconic." "

Fabian: "I wish I could help you out with that but unfortunately I am a pushover :)"

Amber: "I'm so popular! I have like 300 emails! I bet you don't have that many emails! I bet you're jealous of how many emails I have!"

Eddie: "I'm such a jerk lol. I'm cool asf lmao. I'm a whole mood tbqh."

Patricia: "I know for a fact that if Löded Diper was a real band I would stan them and spend way too much money on merch."

Alfie: "Violence is so entertaining sometimes, like I would love to watch a movie about a shark that likes to bite the heads off dinosaurs just for fun. Anyway make love not war."

Jerome: "On the outside he's a preppy rich kid but on the inside he's actually an emo rich kid."

KT: "Maybe all those recurring dreams I used to have about my uncle becoming evil were actually trying to tell me something."

Joy: "Nobody wants to binge watch Care Bears and discuss their favorite Care Bears ships with me this weekend. Is it because they don't like Care Bears or because they don't like me?"

Mara: "Wtf I left this groupchat on mute for like three hours and now I come back and everyone's trying to kill each other??"

Mick: "Literally just be yourself unless you suck."

Willow: "When I first met her she said my energy was warm and I have no idea what that means but it made me wanna cry."

[magalidragon]

fire on ice | a crackish Jonerys drabble

Soooo... @moggett reblogged this post and well I felt compelled to write a drabble for one of those prompts so I give you this crack fic-- a funeral home meet cute!

I give you....FIRE ON ICE!  And this is also partially @youwerenevermine‘s fault, lol, because we literally had same idea for one of the prompts.

“Thank you so much Mr. Snow.”

Jon nodded politely, solemnly, his gray eyes the perfect amount of sympathetic, sad, and he hoped the right amount of ‘normal’— lest people think him a total fucking creep—while he shook the hand of the Greatjon Umber, whose son Smalljon Umber had unfortunately encountered the wrong side of a chainsaw while out trimming trees.  

Greatjon began to go into a tale about his son—who by all accounts had been a horrible person—speaking like he was the second coming of Aegon the Conqueror for all his ‘talents’ and ‘successes.’  “Hmm,” he murmured, walking him slowly to the door.  “He sounds like quite a man your son, thank you Mr. Umber, we will speak later regarding tomorrow.”

“Of course, thank you again Mr. Snow.”

The door shut loudly behind him, Jon slumping against it, relieved.  He glanced at his cousin, who had emerged from the basement, shaking her chopped bob out of its messy little knot atop her head.  “He gone?” she demanded.

“Aye.”

“I had half a mind to sew his arm on backwards.”

Jon closed the doors to the viewing room where Smalljon rested in repose until tomorrow when he’d be taken to the Karstark’s castle for the final funeral and ultimate burial in the crypts, as was custom for the Northerners.  He clicked his tongue.  “Arya, be nice.”

“Remember when his wife died, and he squeezed my arse?”

“Aye, I remember.”

“Thought so.”  Arya checked her phone.  “Your beloved texted me.  We have another on the way.  This one fell from the Wall.  Ygritte said he’s a fucking mess.”

He made a face; he hated that she referred to his ex-girlfriend as his ‘beloved.’  “Will you stop calling her that?”

“She works for the morgue Jon, what were you thinking?”

“It’s hard to find women in this line of work.”  He heard the bell ringing on the other side of the old stone house that served as their place of business and home—the five-floor monstrosity he knew people in town referred to as ‘Castle Black.’  He did wear a lot of black.  Came with the territory.  He waved off Arya.  “Just make sure you finish up with Mr. Lannister before the end of the evening.”

“The rich dude who died on the shitter?  Yeah, no thanks, that’s all yours.”

“Do you want to take this one?  Where the fuck is Robb anyway?”  Robb was the master of this shit, not him.  He was better with the dead.

Arya walked away before he even could try to play ‘Dragon, Wolf, Lion’ with her or answer as to where her eldest brother happened to have gone off.  Guess it was all him.  He caught his reflection in one of the mirrors in the hallway, adjusting his black tie at his neck and raking fingers through his curls.  It did nothing to tamp them down. He schooled his expression, solemn, and pushed through the dark wooden doors from the funeral home side of the floor to the entry way.  He let them swing back and folded his hands in front of him.  

“Welcome to Three Wolves Funeral Home, may I help you?” he asked, voice gentle; you never knew who might be waiting to speak with you on this side of the building.  He’d been accused too often in Robb’s post-services discussions of being too cold.

The woman standing in a dark red dress with long black overcoat was not someone who appeared to be in mourning, but then you never really knew, some people were good at masking emotions.  Her silver hair was in an elegant, braided knot at the back of her head and she had large black sunglasses folded in her hands, gazing at the table with various brochures for caskets.  

She turned, blinking wide violet eyes at him, her lips crimson, face pale.  “Good afternoon,” she greeted him, eyebrow arching.  “I’m inquiring as to your crematory services.”

“For yourself?” he blurted, before he realized how it sounded.

She smirked, while he flushed, thrown off by her stunning beauty.  He tried to school his expression again; she could very well have been there for her husband, boyfriend, or other, he did not need to stumbling through this.  He wished Robb was there.  “That would be interesting, wouldn’t it?  Well, I can assure you I’m not here to burn myself alive, but you know…” She inspected her hand, a couple rings on them glittering gold.  She grinned up at him.  “I have heard stories my ancestors were immune to flame.”

His throat constricted.  “Apologies.  Can I help you?”

“Your crematory services?” she wondered again, walking by him and into the showroom, running a finger over an ebony casket.  

“Ah…I am afraid Three Wolves does not offer such services.  We can, however, assist with selecting one, urns, and preparing a memorial service.”  He wondered what she was doing; she was now leaning down to look underneath a massive white casket.  No one really cared what the underside looked like.  He gestured towards the office.  “We can speak in private, if you wish?”  

The woman shook her head.  “No I’m fine, thank you.  Just doing a little bit of research.”

“For a relative?”  

“Something like that.”  She wore very high heels, which clicked loudly on the hardwood.  She glanced sideways; eyes shrewd.  “Are you one of the Three Wolves on your sign out front?”

“Yes, Jon Snow, I’m the mortician.”  It sounded so creepy like that, but it was the truth.  Robb handled the hand shaking, the business side.  Arya was their resident makeup artist—she could do wonders with faces practically taking them on and off—but he was the one who handled everything else.  

“Hmm, yes I heard of you.”  The woman offered her hand.  “Dany.”

“Jon,” he repeated, like an idiot.  He was put off by her beauty, rather disarming.  He swallowed hard again.  “Nice to meet you.  Is there…”

“This was enlightening Mr. Snow.  I’ll be back.”  Dany wiggled her fingers, waving, striding out decisively.  “See you later.”

What the seven hells was that about? He spun on his heel, about to ask her what else he could help her with, when the front door slammed shut, bell ringing on her exit.  He heard the door from the services wing open, Robb walking in.  He scowled.  “Where were you?”

“Talking with the Umbers, heard it went well, did we have a customer?” Robb adjusted his tie, eagerly seeing dollar signs.  “Where are they?”

“They left.”  

“Damnit Jon!”

He rolled his eyes, storming by.  “I’ll be downstairs.”

“With Tywin Lannister?  Better make him look good, the Lannisters are paying through the nose for this.”

“Aye,” he said idly, heading downstairs and to his ‘lair’ as Robb referred to it.  He shook his head, preparing in the locker room, putting on scrubs and his protective gear.  When he tugged on gloves, walking over to the block of freezer drawers, he rolled his eyes again, making another face.  He was better with dead people anyway.

-----

A couple of weeks later, Jon saw the beautiful silver-haired woman again, this time from the front step of the funeral home, while Arya sat on the railing, Robb in shocked horror as the sign went up across the street.  

Dracarys Funeral Home and Crematory Services

“How did this happen?  We had the run of things here!” Robb exclaimed.

Arya cracked her gum.  “Want me to get info?”

The silver haired Dany waved from the front step of her home.  “Hello Starks!”

Jon shook his head, appalled.  “I thought she was just asking because someone died…like they all do.”

“You didn’t think that she was scoping the competition?” Robb shouted.

“I told you I’m better with the dead than I am the living!”

“Oh leave him alone,” Arya chided.  She rubbed Ghost’s ears—his great white wolf—gazing across the street again, shrugging.  “Maybe we can make this work.  Jon, you were the one who met her, maybe you can get some more info.  They do crematory, we don’t.  Maybe we can make a deal or something.”

Robb nodded, poking his shoulder.  “Go over there, find out more.”

Jon sighed.  He really didn’t want to do this. “I have that Wall guy to deal with.”

“Jarl will keep, go find out more.”

He slid away from the column, clicking his tongue for Ghost to follow him, the two of them crossing the street and up to Dracarys.  He entered into the front room, seeing that everything was a shade of black and red.  He glanced at Ghost, who was scanning the space with his bright ruby eyes, white fluffy tail wagging slowly.  “What do you think?” he mumbled.

The walnut wood stairs creaked in the back, drawing him towards the door leading away from the showroom and sitting area.  He peeked into another part of the old house, just like how their business was set up, with a viewing room and seating area.  He moved to another door, which was open, leading down a set of stairs.  

A massive black cat yowled from a sunbeam near the door, hissing at Ghost and running off.  Ghost didn’t bark but took off after the cat.  He sighed, calling out.  “Please don’t kill her cat!”  

He went down the stairs and pushed open a set of swinging double doors, pausing at the sight.  It was state-of-the art and he scowled at some of the fancy equipment he’d been trying to convince Robb to upgrade to for the last year.  He ran his tongue over his teeth, arching a dark brow at the woman who had been wearing head-to-toe designer when he’d met her and now was in black scrubs and protective gear, leaning over a dead man, a kit of makeup and brushes next to her.  

“Jon Snow,” she called.

“Daenerys Targaryen.”  He used her full name.  The proprietress of the competition, he would not refer to her as Dany.  “You could have told me you were moving in across the street.”

“And you would have shown me around?  I think not.”  

He stepped closer, curious at what she was working on.  His eyebrows flew to his forehead.  “Greyscale, huh?”

“Hmm,” Dany murmured.  “Yes.”  She looked up, grinning.  “I saw you coming over, decided not to stop you from finding me.  You’re not squeamish.”

“No I’m not.”

“They call you the King of the Dead.”

It wasn’t the worst thing he’d been called.  “And you are?” he retorted.

“The Dragon Queen, I suppose you could call me.  Or at least, that’s what they called me at mortician school.”  She selected another brush, grinning.  “I’m offering a service that your busines does not Jon Snow, that’s all.”

“The North doesn’t burn their dead.”

“I know, but many in the South do.  There’s plenty of them moving up here.”  Dany stood and pushed the gurney with the greyscale man into the freezer, closing the door.  She removed her gloves and gear, walking by him, and began to wash up.  She tossed a serene smile over her shoulder.  “I think we can make this work Jon Snow.  Don’t worry about it.”

“Robb isn’t used to competition.”

“And you?”

He shrugged.  “I work better with the dead.”

“So do I.”  When she finished, she studied him for a few seconds, which unnerved him.  He tore his eyes from her, wondering what she was doing.  She approached him, hands on her hips.  “Would you like to get a cup of coffee?”

He frowned, nose wrinkling, surprised.  “Coffee?”

“A hot beverage, sometimes served with milk and sugar?  Other times with various accoutrements like cinnamon or chocolate?” Dany’s smile softened.  He saw then how gentle she actually was, how soft.  It was comforting and he wasn’t even grieving.  She must be very good at her job, he thought.  He was numb, unsure how best to reply.  She patted his arm, stepping by him.  “Come on, I’ve got a lovely blend from Braavos.”

In the kitchen on the third floor of her house, where he assumed, she lived, she prepared the coffee.  He wondered where Ghost had gone.  “This how you get all the competition?” he managed to get out.  “Ply them with coffee?”

“Just you.”  Dany sat down across from him at a small bistro table in a large bay window, with a beautiful view of the mountains in the distance.  She passed him the mug of coffee and used a small ceramic pitcher to pour milk into her coffee.  Lifting it to her lips, she smiled again, warm and eyes dancing.  “You intrigue me.”

He sipped his coffee—it was very good—a small smile on his lips.  “You are an interesting one, Dany…if that is your real name.”

“Only my friends can call me Dany,” she mouthed.  

“And we’re friends?”

“Well I hope we’re not enemies.”

Jon figured he’d have to wait it out and see for certain, but he didn’t think enemies was the best word for it.  He was not good at this sort of thing, so he chose to continue drinking his coffee.  He set the mug down on the table, sighing and cocking his head, a slight furrow to his brow.  “I’m not good at this.”

“I know,” Dany shrugged.  “But I am.”

Well that was that then, he figured, smiling at her.  

-----

“So where did you two meet?”

Jon wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, as one of Sansa’s friends from King’s Landing had cornered him, trying to get info on Robb.  “Where did I meet…?” he echoed, playing dumb.

Margaery Tyrell frowned.  “Where did you meet Daenerys?  Sansa didn’t tell me.  In fact, she’s being really weird about things.  Won’t even tell me what Robb does for a living.”  Her eyes lit up.  “I like a challenge.”

“Um, well…”

His wife of the last two hours emerged at his side, looping her arm through his.  “We met at a funeral home,” she said, smiling at Margaery’s wide-eyed, horrified expression.  Dany gazed up at him, love shining from her beatific face.  “In fact, we contemplated holding the reception there, but figured everyone might think that a little weird.”  She smiled even wider.  “Also in the future, please keep the Fire on Ice Funereal Services in your thoughts for any funereal needs!”

Jon stifled a snort, glad to be rid of the odd questions.  He smiled down at his beloved.  “We didn’t actually consider the reception there or…did you?”

“No of course not, I don’t want to mix business and pleasure.”

“Isn’t that exactly what we did?”

“Nah, I came to scope out the competition and this really cute guy who couldn’t look me in the eye without blushing wandered in.”  Dany rose on her toes, pecking his cheek.  She patted her hand against his chest.  She beamed again.  “Best decision I ever made.  I could have sent Viserys.”

At the mention of her annoying older brother, Jon shivered.  He squeezed her close.  “Very well then.  Let’s at least try to figure out a better story, you’re scaring people.”

“Well it is the truth.”  

Jon shook his head, but smiled anyway, his arm around her and hers around him, both of them walking off into the crowd of guests.  He even thought that he overheard someone say the King of the Dead had found his queen.  He kissed her temple, sighing.  He certainly did.

THE END

[freebooter4ever]

Ahahahahaha there IS a rami under the hat! anyway shitty quick sledgefu fic under the cut bc that was some brilliant inspiration right there - no beta or re-reads so this is rough lol. It's RIDICULOUS IMSOSORRY

Being a hipster in Orange County is exhausting. It's so hard to find good quality antique furniture these days. There's plenty of options, you can't cross town without coming across another vintage shop. And yet Eugene goes through three different shops with no luck. Here in sunny California, the odds of finding antiques are good, but the goods are odd.

Obviously a tried and true technique to weed out the good stuff is to observe fellow antiquing hipsters around you. And Gene's been watching the smartly dressed man at the end of the aisle for almost ten minutes. This man looks pretentious as hell, but he seems to know what he's doing. Unlike Gene, who couldn't tell an authentic colonial from a cheap pottery barn knockoff. Does Pottery Barn even make colonials? What is a colonial anyway? He thinks his mother brought it up in conversation once. Antiques are about the only safe discussion topic nowadays.

Anyway this smartly dressed man is examining something at the end of the row of shelves intensely. Eugene can't see what the guy is looking at, but it drives his curiosity insane. The guy even climbs onto a ladder so he can get a view of the object from above.

Eugene skirts his way around another row of shelves and casually steps closer and closer - coming at it so it appears unintentional.

Of course, the hipster guy on the ladder sees right through Gene. He turns his head arrogantly down towards Eugene and cocks it. Somehow, despite the odd angle, the guy's Madeline style hat stays on as if it's glued to his head.

"I gotta see it from all angles," the man announces, as if this were the answer to a question Eugene desperately needed answering.

"Huh," Eugene says.

The man smiles. It grows on his face like the Cheshire cat. And Eugene is fairly certain under the sunglasses his eyes are shrewd.

"Snaf get down from the ladder, the last thing we need is to be banned from another antique shop," a second man comes up to them carrying an old pair of boots. He glances at Gene and nods, "Hey. I'm Burgie...that man up there is Snafu."

Snafu slithers down from the ladder and lightly lands across from Eugene in the aisle.

"Nice to meet you," Eugene holds his hand out, "Eugene Sledge."

Burgie shakes his hand, "Pleasure." He then turns to Snafu and kicks the boots at his shoulder, "C'mon, I found what I needed, let's head out."

"Wait a sec, I haven't decided if I want this mod shelf for my records or not," Snafu gestures to the thing he'd been amiring.

"Okay," Burgie sighs, "But don't take too long, Im checking out." He takes his vintage boots and goes.

Eugene turns to get a good look at the thing Snafu was considering. And suddenly the heavens open up, god rays come down, light shines like a halo,and Eugene swears he hears a choir. This is it. This is the end piece he was looking for. This is exactly the kind of thing he needs for the "TV" nook in his apartment that will never hold a TV (he has a 24 inch laptop and like ALL the streaming services but he is SO above having a TV like some rich bourgeoisie).

"It's perfect, isn't it," Snafu says, noticing Eugene's sudden awe.

Shit. He noticed. That means Snafu's going to take it. Number one rule of climbing the hipster ladder: if someone else finds value in something you better get it first.

"I'm not sure, I think my mom has almost the exact same shelf system back home," Eugene shrugs, "She got it from, like, Ikea ten years ago or something. It was a whole thing. Super popular...'retro'...you know how it goes."

"Yeah," Snafu says. He sounds like he might eat Eugene up.

Eugene clears his throat awkwardly.

Snafu throws his head back and switches into appraiser mode, "You're wrong though. You can tell this is authentic by the wood paneling, and the 60s era joints, and this cantilevered bit right here."

Eugene's never wanted someone so much so suddenly right there.

"It'd be perfect for my record collection... It'll even look good from my lofted bed..." Snafu continues.

"I want it," Eugene states quickly and firmly.

Snafu's eyebrows raise at Eugene's audacity. "Well..." Snafu says. He slowly lifts his Janis Joplin sunglasses and eyes Eugene, "I was going to take the shelf but..." he grins "... I'll take you instead."

"What?" Eugene asks incredulously.

"Go on a date with me and I'll give it to you," Snafu demands, "Hell, I'll even buy it for you."

"I..." Eugene stutters. He can feel a blush already forming on his cheeks.

"Better say yes before I change my mind..." Snafu warns in an obnoxiously self-assured tone of voice.

"Yes!" Eugene blurts without hesitance.

The grin Snafu gives him outshines the glory halo from earlier.

Eugene blushes down to his toes. Maybe he should have...played it more casual or acted disinterested. He's not actually very good at this hipster thing.

On the other hand, he does end up getting a free shelf out of the deal. The only thing Snafu makes him do is give Snafu his number, carry the shelf out to his own car, and give Snafu a ride home.

"Burgie texted me, said he's already moved on to the next shop, but don't worry our apartment's real close by," Snafu explains.

"This shelf is insanely heavy," Eugene grumbles under the weight. He's questioning his purchase decisions.

"That's how you know it's real wood," Snafu scolds him.

"Can't you at least take a corner? Lighten the load a tiny bit?" Eugene asks.

"Naw," Snafu sits on the hood of Eugene's 1946 Chevy and smiles, "I like to watch the posers sweat."

Eugene rolls his eyes, "I'm getting an authentic 1960's shelf, and you're getting a date with a fake hipster. I think you got the raw end of the deal here."

"No way," Snafu assures him. He hops off the car and finally helps by opening the door and guiding the shelf onto the back seat, "I see this as an investment."

"An investment?" Eugene echoes.

"Yeah," Snafu says. He bumps the car door shut with his hip and gets into Eugene's space, swaggering a little, "The way I see it... In two... No.. One month... I'll have joint custody over this shelf. It'll be as good as mine. I just gotta wait patiently."

"You mean... You think..." Eugene stammer, ".... You think I will..."

Snafu's smirk widens and he leans in closer, and closer, as if he's gonna lay a kiss on Gene right then and there.

But he's interrupted by Burgie come running out the door, "Hey! Shelton, what the hell you charged that shelf to my account!"

"C'mon, time to go!" Snafu tells Eugene excitedly. He opens the driver door, grabs Eugene's elbow and manhandles him in. Snafu then vaults the car's hood and hops in through the open passenger window. "Drive!"

"Snafu, I'm never giving you any of Florence's homemade pop tarts ever again!" Burgie yells as Eugene's car peels away.

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

Hey! re: feeling guilty buying things while on DSP [i should probably preface this w the fact that im a US expat living in ireland for only the past year so if what follows isnt relevant just feel free to ignore me lol]

My gf is on DSP welfare rn and i think the part of it weirdest for them is the cultural taboo of receiving welfare payments

I guess the thing about feeling guilty for spending the money-- at least how my gf and i discuss it-- is that the payment is usually pretty shit anyways. You didnt ask to be born into this expensive, monetized society, and all the govt can offer you is a meager allowance to exist. They'll subsidize corporations, give rich ppl tax cuts, and support landlords over tenants, but all they'll offer to the people actually struggling-- the people who actually need and deserve help-- is just crumbs by comparison.

You deserve so much more than survival-- you should be able to afford luxuries and things that make life worth living, and things to comfort your mind and body. Existing in this unequal society is taxing in and of itself. You are taking so much less from the government than any company or luxury apartment building getting subsidies or tax breaks-- and you deserve so much more than youre receiving anyways.

Sorry i didnt expect that to turn into a wall of text im just very passionate about anyone feeling guilty while on welfare or spending money in this fucked-up system we were forced into. Hopefully this wasnt too irrelevant 😅

Thank you so much for taking the time to send this to me. Really. It means an awful lot. 💕💕

I’m definitely going to try harder to be kind to myself with this and take on these positive thoughts.

I’m so glad you’re gf has someone has kind and supportive as you in her life! I have no doubt she really appreciates your big heart.

I hope you both have a beautiful and wonderful day. And thank you again for popping in! 💕💕

[bisluthq]

this is like really random but i have to vent. so basically i’m 20 years old and in my second-year at a uk university. and like i had the worst first-year of my life, made no friends, and got long covid plus really bad depression so yeah it wasn’t great. and now im back at uni i just am really feeling my lack of experience. iv never even properly kissed anyone let alone had sex and all the drinking games etc revolve around sex. i’m pretty sure i’m bi just like based on what i masturbate to but i’v only ever looked at guys as potential relationships. i just like don’t know how to navigate the social world with no friends and no sexual experience, it just feels impossible. and all my friends from home (1 of which is at uni with me) have boyfriends or at least have had sex. and also clubbing feels totally revolved around sex and kissing. it’s really hard to admit to people that i’m a virgin because people assume i’m a prude or a weirdo when i’m not i just haven’t really had the opportunity. i’m just feeling like such a loser atm. oh aaaand i actually really want a boyfriend rn.

Firstly, this is totally normal and nothing to be ashamed of. There’s no timeline for these things.

Secondly, so this is going to be a long winded Agony AuNat but sometimes I think my best ones are. In a way, this reminds me of a friend I had like 20-21 at uni. Basically we became friends because I caught her forum role playing and I was like “lmaoooo I used to do that too!” and we like bonded over it and like very quickly I began realizing that she did it on the kinds of sites me and my online friends laughed at because they weren’t ⚡️aesthetic⚡️ or sexy. Like this was some high fantasy bullshit lol - no offense also cool - on like ProBoards when we were already in the Jcink era. Anyway no biggie. This girl - a horse girl at 20 still and not in the rich bitch way - proceeded to like… idolize me and obvi y’all know how much I like attention so I loved it. And one night she asked me for advice on how to get kissed because she had been like… really wanting to lose her virginity but things just weren’t happening. I proceeded to give the worst advice ever because I too was just a young un. I said “don’t worry it’s gonna happen for you!!! Like I’m sure your crush likes you!! Don’t stress you’re so pretty and sweet!” And I believed I was saying the right stuff and it comforted her ngl so I was like 👏🏻👏🏻 go Nat you’re the best at giving advice.

Except here’s the problem - it still wasn’t happening. She was going to parties with me and I was like dressing her sluttier like some weird teen romcom movie where I was giving her a makeover and like… no one was biting.

And then - for those who remember the Nat Cinematic Universe - it turned out that rando from my 21st who I randomly fucked? Ya dudes that was her crush lol and she hadn’t told me because she thought I’d figure it out lol and she was mad at me and we sorta stayed friends until I fucked that guy’s friend which was nbd to anyone involved because my bestie fucked him and tbh I fancied the friend because he was this average sized weedy dark haired boy who was very weird looking and she exploded at me and called me a slut and shit and that was that, friendship over.

Unsure what happened next, but the reason I’ve given you this backstory is from my current POV I gave extremely bad advice so I’m gonna try correct with you tonight.

Unless you’re in high school when friends of friends can go between people and say you have a crush, and then you text them and like bam you’re exclusive, you have to work to get ass or make friends. Okay the other exception is if you’re like SUPER hot idk about that life, but tbh probs even then. Life isn’t a teen movie, and you’re not gonna just catch someone’s eye and that’ll be that. Dressing nicely might be part of it, doing your hair and makeup in whatever style you want, and making it clear up front - especially at uni when imo branding™️ matters a lot - what your interests are and such shit all factor in. I’m not saying change who you are because again that’s supremely bad advice: figure out who you are. Figure out what you want to wear (experiment!), who you want to talk to (strike up convos on campus!), what you like doing (try things out!) and - most importantly - what you’re comfortable with. Try drinking - and if you don’t like it, don’t do it. Try flirting - and if you don’t like it, know that you can go from friends to this and not everyone enjoys that. Try clubbing - and if you don’t like it, know that there are a ton of societies you can join on campus and campus events you can go to that don’t revolve around that, so seek those out and find your tribe.

Fundamentally, college is what you make of it.

Which means that like unfortunately my dude, you’ll make a fool of yourself. Probably more than once.

But know that friends won’t manifest and boys won’t manifest unless you make an effort and put yourself out there. Ask people to coffee. Ask people to the pub. Girls, boys, enbies, whoever.

Re the anxiety about “never having done this before” - I think that’s totally normal. But also like lots of other people haven’t and everyone has had a first time. In drinking games you can lie lol. You don’t need to advertise it’s your first time for anything if you’re uncomfortable with it. I didn’t tell my first kiss he was my first kiss lol because it was unnecessary info for him tbh (it wasn’t hs boyfriend even tho I’m pretty sure I was his lol but he was my third 😌).

But you also don’t need to be shy about it because honestly 2nd year uni is so fucking young. It’s not like you’re coming to me as a 40 year old virgin and asking for advice (again no timeline but I’m not there yet so maybe not the right person to give it). Most of the people you’re hanging out with haven’t had a ton of sexual experience either lmao. On my 20th birthday I had been with exactly two people, my Angel boyfriend (in hindsight) hs ex and the Rabbi’s son (literally no one’s Angel boyfriend but hopefully he and his tiny dick are married now and Mazels if so) who I fucked a few days after we broke up to prove a point. I was a bad lay (and remain so with guys unless they’re into The Hiddles Experience, not for lack of opportunities, but because we don’t have to master all things). I also - unlike you - had never masturbated. I’d never had an orgasm. I liked sex with hs ex but couldn’t explain what I liked or why, it was just fun sometimes and other times it wasn’t. (In hindsight with clit action it was fun and with pure thrusting it wasn’t). So the fact that you have wanked already gives you a head start over many of the girls guys will be meeting.

So like… figure out what’s comfortable for you. Try different things out. Walk away when you don’t like it. Never do stuff that goes against your values. Don’t be overly shy in ways that wind up making you uncomfortable, like with the story that started this, and don’t expect these things to happen if you make no effort. That applies to friendships and ass alike. And sometimes what you think will be ass will turn into friendships and sometimes what you think will be friendship will turn into more. Let it. That’s what uni’s for.

Final point: try reduce the pressure of having a boyfriend. It’s fine if it happens, but since as you say you’re not a prude, it’s fine if it doesn’t. It will eventually. Try go into encounters with the open mindedness of “this could be ass, this could be friendship, this could be more” and like clear eyes full hearts can’t lose tbh.

Final final point: join societies. Join all the societies. The best way to both get ass and make friends and make friends discussing the ass you’re getting is by joining societies.

Good luck, hope this helped, love you lots and enjoy this year and the next (and beyond if you choose Honours or postgrad).

[yutaya]

Iron Fist Rewatch 1x04: Eight Diagram Dragon Palm

Danny, struggling to pull himself onto that light post thing with his probably now bruised chest: "I dedicate myself to the service of all beings of K'un Lun-" *falls* So is this a recitation they do in training - is he trying to use that mindset to help him climb this beam? Is he doing some sort of traditional ask-the-gods-to-bless-me-with-strength thing?

Lol somehow I had remembered it as Danny crawling up again anyway after the initial push. I forgot they actually went and collected him. Guess that makes them look more favorable to him than my own recall though...

On the coffee table directly facing Danny when he wakes up, probably meant to be a sign to him about where he is and who has so kindly rescued and tended to him after his unfortunate tumble off a building: the formal pic of Harold and children, another photo hard to make out - my first thought was the vacation photo of the 6 of them but it's very sepia, could be something else. Maybe if I look back at other photos we've seen before I could match it.

Danny: "What happened to me? Last I remember I was climbing up-" Ward: "Yeah, like goddamn Daredevil." LOL

UGH THIS WHOLE HAROLD INTRO SCENE UGH Danny mad at Ward one second and then Harold appears and it's like the breath is punched out of him. Looking at Ward and Ward just calmly looking back because he clearly knows what's going on and Danny doesn't - it's as if they're bringing him into their confidence on something. This is a form of offering Danny something he wants - to be a part of something with the only family he thought he had left, not to mention the miracle of one of his parent-figures being alive again. (Wow, what a journey. From finding out Harold is dead and then Ward and Joy both quite clearly rejecting him and denying him a place in their lives to Joy actually doing something to indicate maybe at least she still wants him around after all? To wait, Ward and Harold bringing me in on something too? It's like the dream he clung to in K'un Lun got snatched away and now seems to be trickling back, and - UGH.) "You see him too?" because Danny thought he was seeing things that night at the hospital but this- this is real? Ward's sad, small nod because he knows so much more about Harold than Danny does, and he's seeing this innocent joy (word choice intended) while knowing himself to be wary and that this is almost definitely another manipulation (but what if it's not? What if-? But Harold is still dangerous, he can't help it, there's a reason Ward wants to protect Joy from him even while knowing that Harold favors her so dearly, because there are other ways to hurt your children-)

Harold calmly walking forward while wearing a black suit and confirming "I did die," followed by Danny's "You look the same age as when I last saw you..." - Vampire AU??? (Ugh but why did it have to be Harold? Not a fan of monsters as the bad guys.... need a non-evil vamp to balance him out....)

The way Ward just keeps looking silently between the both of them, like a witness, like - UGH.

"You're home now," GOD DAMMIT and Danny's relief and gratitude and Ward's somber look down I -

Cancer lasted 3 years

Ward: "Dad, are you sure you should be saying this?" Harold: "It's ok. Danny needs to know this." Casting Ward in the opposition role

Ward sits down in the chair adjacent to the couch Danny is on. Harold crosses over from where he was standing near the left side of the couch to sit on the farther right side instead - specifically sitting in between Danny and Ward.

Harold: "I still remember my last breath. Scariest shit I've ever experienced." Ward looks up and away, taking a breath, before turning back again. Combo of eye-roll at dramatics and genuine pain at the thought because that's his dad and Ward remembers those years of pain and decay and - ?

I forgot Danny originally thought of the Hand more like a fable than a reality - and finding out they're a real, present threat combines with being told it's not K'un Lun that they're threatening, but that this whole time, they've actually been digging their claws into his home?

Ward rolling his eyes with his whole body when Harold encourages Danny to think about this as ~embracing his destiny~ hahaha

Ward: No offense, but Danny has zero idea how to do business and therefore maybe shouldn't be running a company with again, absolutely zero training??? Harold: Don't mind Ward being a petulant brat who wants to keep you from your rightful place in our family, Danny. I need you. :)

Harold to Danny: "We've needed a fighter like you back in the family." - right in front of Ward, yet another small "unlike you, who are weak" jab. In line with the whole "Joy can close the deal, you, Ward, can not do anything" lines in the previous episode.

Ward warning Danny about Harold!! But not really doing it great so it could be taken as another 'othering' where Danny could hear 'Harold's not YOUR dad' instead of Ward's intended 'Harold's not your DAD' - made much better by his clarification that Harold only cares about Harold and helping to show he meant 'not a good supportive dad you can lean blindly on' than if he had just. left it at that. I'm glad for Ward's continuing with that line and for Danny's long, considering look at nothing afterward. Gives the sense that Danny feels that something is off, even if he's not sure what.

Colleeeeeeeeeeeeen and her shame and her truly believing in honoring the code of bushido and her teaching these children to get them "the scholarship" to help them in a legitimate, meaningful, honorable way (SOB) and believing that their skills should be about the code and not be about flashiness or showing off or being able to lord their power and ability over others or money -

Code of Bushido (Includes eight virtues, and this episode title is Eight Diagram Dragon Palm. Coincidence???)

1. Rectitude or Justice (refers to PERSONAL rectitude - “one’s power to decide upon a course of conduct in accordance with reason, without wavering” “the bone that gives firmness and stature...without Rectitude neither talent nor learning can make the human frame into a samurai.”)

2. Courage (Bushido distinguishes between bravery and courage - “Courage is doing what is right”)

3. Benevolence or Mercy (“Love, magnanimity, affection for others, sympathy and pity, are traits of Benevolence, the highest attribute of the human soul”)

4. Politeness (Courtesy is rooted in benevolence - “Politeness should be the expression of a benevolent regard for the feelings of others; it’s a poor virtue if it’s motivated only by a fear of offending good taste. In its highest form Politeness approaches love”)

5. Honesty and Sincerity (interestingly, rather than what *I* personally think of when I hear the words “honesty and sincerity”, the info in the Bushido code text about this virtue mostly centers around the idea of disdaining money and riches - probably what Colleen is talking about with her whole “fighting for money breaks the bushido code” thing)

6. Honor (referring to non-martial behavior)

7. Loyalty (bushido text about this seems mostly in context of loyalty to a superior, to your leader, to people you are indebted to. Applies tragically to Colleen and her personal experience with Hand culture. To me, of course, I am more interested in the idea of those leaders deserving your love and your loyalty hand-in-hand with it. Given the other virtues, this IS probably what the code meant to include, but from a modern standpoint it seems like one of those things where especially paramilitary organizations or cults like the Hand could twist the letter of it into an expectation of blindly following orders, even perhaps against your personal devotion to the other virtues)

8. Character and Self-Control (“Bushido teaches that men should behave according to an absolute moral standard, one that transcends logic. What’s right is right, and what’s wrong is wrong. The difference between good and bad and between right and wrong are givens, not arguments subject to discussion or justification, and a man should know the difference.” I get the ideal of this, but something about the wording sits weirdly with me... maybe the implication that they can’t make a mistake?)

Ageless qualities of manliness: choosing compassion over confrontation, and benevolence over belligerence <3

“The tie might be a touch effeminate” Shut UP Ward

Danny, at a press conference: *waves at Jeri* “Hey.” Jeri: *shakes her head*

Danny: “Yes, I was in a mental hospital.” Joy, despairingly: “Oh, Danny”

Jeri smiling. Maybe she worked with Danny on how to handle the press conference and likely questions he would face? My headcanon from this anyway. Ward and Joy looking at each other, seems like in surprise at Danny’s answers and spin?

“Kindness is the eternal law”

The way Danny slips in to this conversation with Joy about the Red Hook property for his Hand investigation is very well done. Reminds me of watching the Netflix trailer and thinking that it made IF look like a show where Danny was some form of government agent going undercover as himself for an investigation.

SO CUTE how Danny goes “woah, I have a first appointment of the day? Who is it?” and then he turns around and it’s his friend Jeri! Hahaha. Danny: “J-money!!” *goes in for a hug* Jeri: “Woah, we don’t do that.”

Jeri: “Your father’s office. Even found his old desk.” Meaning she was the one working on this - Ward is the one who had to set Danny up there after his sarcastic remarks in the penthouse, but Jeri brought in the sentimentality. (Jeri, directly after basically admitting to putting a bunch of effort into a very sentimental gesture here: “Now don’t get all weepy on me.”) Jeri in IF is so soft I love it

Danny: “I pretty much had to raise the dead.” *smirks to himself at his own inside joke*

Jeri, trying to give Danny advice: “For most of these people, you are a hostile takeover.” Me: JERI, HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THE NUANCES OF YOUR CORPORATE SPEAK.

Jeri asks if Danny wants the door open or closed. He chooses open. Open to Megan, open to all his new coworkers and employees. Danny is, at his core, for people.

LOL Did Danny just steal Ward’s chair?

Danny: *forces half the board to move so he can sit next to Joy* Me: DANNY

If these guys really wanted to persuade Danny to their point of view on the sell-at-cost thing, they should have emphasized the “funding new research” part of it instead of just repeating “this is just business” ad nauseam. Obviously Ward is actually trying to do the opposite right now and get Danny driven out, but idk what the rest of these people are thinking. Danny acknowledges that they can still make profits elsewhere, which is his side offering a dialogue to meet them. Their counter is that the WHO will be buying it from them and subsidizing it from other people. If they wanted to meet or even just appear to be meeting Danny partway, they could have suggested an initiative to work with the WHO on a program for that? Although since none of them want to actually do that and don’t really care what Danny thinks about it, I know why they didn’t.

Joy raising her eyebrow at Ward’s declaring that they’ll go to market at cost like “I see you Ward and how many times have I told you to leave the maneuvering to me you are unsubtle and unskilled”

Danny looking back at Ward significantly on his way to his discussion with Joy about the pier deal

Ward taking The Drugs before he has to answer Harold’s late night phone call

Harold: You did a great job today. Ward: *baffled expression* Harold: Now, son, this isn’t the time to point fingers, it’s the time for solutions. Ward: There it is. Harold: Also, you screwed up in the meeting and you need to make it up. Ward: *sigh*

Danny: white sneakers with the suit

Joy casually placing the monks and their traditional robes in a lower class position to them and their white collar formal business attire

Time for Joy to play the angle on Danny, curb his at-cost behavior for the future

The ringmaster choosing the second fighter for Colleen followed by that “look, you guys know all the rules” line - I like this guy. He probably remembers how the last dude Colleen fought was a rule-breaker and wants to keep all his fighters safe as possible in an already dangerous 2-on-1 fight like this.

Again with the camera slowing and the noise fading and the blood splattering camera work giving the “losing control” vibe

“The problem was, I never thought through WHY I wanted this job. I mistook my stubborn will for a sense of... destiny, or something.” (Danny, earlier: “My shifu would have called this destiny.”)

“Every moment was a struggle. Failure... led to a beating. Victory... led to another fighting style. To the next lesson.”

Joy flat out calls it abuse and Danny doesn’t deny it.

Vodka and tonic, light on the tonic.

Danny clearly still shaken by the borderline flashbacks to his life at K’un Lun.

Is this the first time the Hatchets appear? Just storming the apartment and punching Joy in the face? Danny and Joy must both be like “WHAT IS HAPPENING”

Joy tries punching one of them. Good for you, Joy.

Ah yes, Ward flat out telling one of the more shark-like reporters that the drug is a huge deal that would save millions of lives and that Rand was of course planning to really boost the price to make a “huge” profit. “That is a loss of hundreds of millions of dollars [that our one company wanted to make off of the millions of people who needed this drug to save their lives]. He’s worse than those bleeding-heart-liberal-trust-fund hipsters wandering around Williamsburg.” (Note: Williamsburg: hip neighborhood that draws the young and fashionable. Boutiques, cafes, street art, outdoor concerts and food markets. Dance clubs, bars, music halls. East Williamsburg is ranked one of the 5 most LGBTQ+ friendly neighborhoods in Brooklyn.)

“Ellison, don’t give the front page to Karen”

Ward just looks at her retreating back and rubs his hands together like “Ah yes, a job well done.” Biggest question for the viewers in this scene is probably: Did Ward tank this on purpose or is he really that far removed from the reality of the non-Elite?

Colleen: still bloody from her illegal cage fighting and hears noise outside her door. Last time she heard noise, it was attackers breaking in for what probably seemed to her like retaliation. Then it’s Danny and she has the relieved exasperation, but - oh ho, Joy Meachum?

“Wasn’t he stalking you?” “It was a misunderstanding.” “Right. I guess being a millionaire covers a multitude of sins.” (Danny: “Billionaire.” Colleen in the background: *disbelieving huff+head shake*)

TRIADS. Time for my triad rant: Every drama show ever to involve Asian-Americans - even just in one-episode specials - includes triads. I’m so sick of it. I know organized crime is a real problem that actually exists, but - why are the Asians always evil? It’s like having the mafia be a plotline every time an Italian character exists on screen. Plz diversify. Media colors perception.

Danny: literally just walks into a restaurant and says he needs to speak to the head of the crime gang. AND THEN NONE OF THEM EVEN BOTHER TRYING TO DENY IT. The Hatchets literally just open the door to their backroom where you can clearly see their illegal activity and come out to talk to Danny. What if he was working with the cops, guys?

It’s so scary how the Yangshi Gonsi react to the mention of the Hand. Well done, IF.

“Joke around the house was that Danny and I were pledged to be married.” (“In another life, this would have been romantic.”) (THIS CREEPS ME OUT THOUGH in a very personally specific triggering way as someone who spent their childhood running around with a boy that I found out later people thought was gonna “knock me up someday.” #BARF)

Colleen has a billionaire in her dojo learning how to punch on a dummy held together with duct tape because she can’t afford to fix it. (Also: Colleen's dojo is also for self-defense classes. Joy was just attacked by hatchet-wielders.)

Danny: "The hatchets won’t be a problem anymore." and then doesn’t elaborate. DANNY THAT SOUNDS SO SHADY. YOU LOOK SO SHADY RIGHT NOW.

Danny: *reaches out and touches Colleen’s hand* Colleen: *flinches back* What are you doing? DANNY. DANNY, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. You seriously have no idea how you come across. Joy is watching all this like “wow....ok.”

Danny used to fight in illegal fight clubs on his way back from K’un Lun. Along with his obtaining an illegal fake ID. New headcanon: Danny is actually super connected to the criminal underground worldwide. Mob bosses everywhere have a soft spot for him. He’s somewhere on a mission with Ward/Colleen/Defenders/HfH and acting like he knows the area, someone recognizes him and he starts chatting cheerfully with them, suddenly they’re being greeted and helped out by people deep in the black market scene while Danny bear hugs someone that most people clearly fear and his companions look on with wide eyes.

Danny, a literal billionaire: Remember how I offered to pay you six months rent for helping me out? Colleen, broke as hell: My denial stands.

Danny: So how are we gonna tell Ward? (framing them - all three of them - as a team) Joy: lmao, are we thinking about the same Ward? You want to tell the most overprotective big brother in the world that men with hatchets attacked his sister? Do you remember what he did to those bullies when we were 8?

Gao: *black bags Harold, refuses to tell him where they’re taking him, doesn’t reveal that this particular instance is him landing on the ‘good’ side of the scale until the last possible second.*

Ugh, he just puts that sword back in the scabbard with all the blood still on it? Improper blade care

Oh yeah, I guess this is the audience’s first scene showing that Harold is capable of cold-blooded murder

I notice that this article may be the front page of the business section, but is NOT the front of the newspaper. Sorry, Jennifer.

[I had initially transcribed the article here, but have made it it's own post which can be found here. Notes on the article, though: Jennifer was very kind to the Meachums in it, given what Ward was actually saying. Also, which Bulletin employee fell down on grammar checking that thing?]

Danny’s Jeri-given apartment doesn’t have a number on the door, but does have some sort of cherry blossom branches etching in the plate?

The Hatchet box!!! (congrats again @Sholio LOL) Yang Hai-Qing wants Danny to get rid of the Hand too. He wasn’t gonna mess with them, explained they didn’t know about the Hand's involvement when they went after Joy, and apologized, but then the Hand came to his restaurant and killed one of his men anyway.

Ah yes, the great tattoo reveal. Also, is that a bullet’s pucker scar on Danny’s left shoulder?

[bidaubadeadieu]

long post warning, thinkin abt gender, epistemology, and ethics

this intro is gonna be a long one, but bear with me, it’s relevant, and I think this is a worthy part of the discourse. so sorry for the block text, but if you haven’t got time for this right now, consider keeping this post around in your likes and coming back to it later.

i’ve been thinking a lot abt questions of empirics vs ethics lately. i’ve been watching some youtube videos on Street Epistemology. The goal is to take people on the street, ask them to give an example of something they think is true (although they’re encouraged toward a belief system, e.g. belief in god, karma, a certain philosophy, and not something strictly measurable), and then the street epistemologist asks them questions to determine the sources of evidence on which they are basing their belief. The practice is supposed to be non-judgmental, but this is somewhat dubious because the whole technique was designed to convert theists to atheists. A common exchange will go “I believe that God is real” -> “what makes you believe in god” -> “I find that there is compelling historical evidence in the Bible, and that I have had a number of personal experiences that I see as miraculous/divine in some way” -> “If the Bible was written differently, or if you hadn’t had those experiences, maybe your life had gone a different way, would you still believe in God” the idea being that a rational and consistent person would say “no, because I would have no evidence” but in actuality most people say -> “yeah, actually I still would”, showing that their belief actually exists independently of any evidence, it’s purely faith. And then the street epistemology practitioner will often say something like “Could someone reach a different conclusion using faith? If a Hindu uses faith to determine the existence of Vishnu, would they also be correct?” and sometimes people get led down this path of -> “well, it’s true for them, but it’s not true for me” which I find fascinating, but if you’re a street epistemologist you generally seem to think that truth and non-truth only exist in binary states, and that this admission is the result of the terrifyingly faulty reasoning of religious people (because that tends to be their angle).

Some people in street epistemology interviews, rather than discussing religion will discuss gender (the practitioner is not supposed to lead people in any particular direction, the interviewee gets to pick the topic). See here and here (feel free to watch those and come back). These videos are okay, but I find it so frustrating, sometimes just infuriating, to watch these, and I’ve been thinking for weeks now why that would be. If I couldn’t hold my own with this guy, going toe-to-toe to defend why I think trans identity is real, is that a massive problem for me? I can’t hep but imagine myself in conversation with the main guy I’ve been watching (and to be clear, he’s a really nice guy, he wouldn’t be arguing with me, or attacking my positions, just asking purposefully instructive questions), but I can’t think of any claims regarding my gender identity that I think would be interesting to discuss. For example, he might suggest something like “I am transgender” as a claim, but I think this actually entirely misinterprets gender to begin with as something evidentiary. The best answer I can think of to answer the questions “What makes you transgender” or “What is the evidence on which you base your belief that your are transgender?” is genuinely “because I want to be” and I don’t think this is wrong or internally inconsistent. I think gender, because it is something that is social instead of empiric, means that it is not something that exists in a binary truth state. It would be like the claim being “I believe murder is wrong.” There isn’t evidence to support this claim, because it is ethical, and if you want to defend it (”Why do you think that” -> “Because it hurts people, and I think hurting people is wrong.” -> “What is the evidence that hurting people is wrong?”) you’ll never find a satisfying answer that is defendable. At some point the need to take an ethical stance is irreducible, and like a child who asks “Why? Why? Why?” you’ll always be able to go down the rabbit hole, never ceasing. 

My being transgender is because I like it, and you could ask why, but it would be like asking why I like my favorite movie, or why I like my favorite food. I like these things because I do, through some concoction of nature and nurture, and that’s just the way my world is. This is a hot take, and it’s not something I would say to any cis person, because it’s bad optics. I can imagine the kind of flak I would take. “What do you mean being trans is your preference?” “How dare you compare something as important as gender identity to liking mac & cheese, or the Lord of the Rings?” I recognize that this may be a unique outcome of my being nonbinary, and that a binary trans person for whom the “I always knew I was a woman” or “I have a female soul in a male body” narratives really do apply might find what I am saying to be insane and detrimental to them.

In response to Elliot Page’s coming out, I saw a friend of a friend on Facebook write “she doesn’t look like a boy at all but ok lol. anyways my dog is my cat now because i want it to be” and my friend, a well-meaning, intelligent, cis ally, called her friend out for his bigotry and in doing so she posted links to several scientific studies supporting the legitimacy of trans identity, appealing to scientific consensus. But here’s my thought: Neurology may prove that there are monumental differences between the brains of male and female people that never change regardless of socialization or hormones. Social psychology may prove that trans women act more similarly to men than they do to women 99% of the time. We could wake up tomorrow and learn that a historian with an agenda has faked the existence of gender non-conforming people of the past, that they doctored a text or lied about what they found in a burial site. This isn’t to say that any of these things are likely, but the sheer fact that they’re possible means that claims like “A new study shows that men and women’s brains are fundamentally alike” or “A new study shows that trans women behave like women” or “A new study shows that trans people have always existed throughout history” are actually worth jack shit. All scientific claims are falsifiable, they are fallible, but actually my worth as a human being, as a transgender human being, is not. I don’t think being transgender is valid because of any scientific finding, it’s valid because I wanted to, and I think it’s good for people to get what they want if it’s not hurting anyone, and I don’t think gender non-conformity hurts anyone, because in fact I think that questioning binaries and transgressing authority is good for society. Let me repeat that. I am transgender because I believe it is good for me and good for society. If I stop believing these things, which I might do based on exposure to new evidence, then I should stop being trans, but just on their own these are all ethical claims, unverifiable ethical claims, that require assumptions. If you are transphobic to me, or otherwise cruel, I think you’ve made an moral violation, but I don’t think you’ve necessarily made an unscientific claim; if you think that being non-conformant with gender expectations is bad for society, I might fall down a similar rabbit hole of “why do you think that” --> “I just do, because this is a priori wrong to me” and we’re stuck.

Is this line of reasoning dangerous? I think it is dangerous for people to get to comfortable with “Thing X is true because I want it to be.” For empirical, verifiable claims, this does not work. I don’t become rich by wanting to be, you dog doesn’t become a cat because you want it to be, but these are fundamentally different types of claims than “I am a woman.” I am saying that being a woman has no truth table. Politics is theatre, gender is theatre, and what it means for something to be “true” is complicated. 

This whole thing has big and strange implications. Going back to the beginning, I’m not sure what this means for theists. I’m an atheist myself, so I do find it somewhat concerning if they could use my argument against me, and say “Actually this doesn’t matter if this is rational or defensible, because it’s simply my belief system, informed by my values, and I think believing in God is good. For as long as I believe that, I will let it influence my behavior. Also, sidenote, I’m now going to ban all abortion.” But I think in general, there is a role for evidence to influence belief systems. I don’t think that gender non-conformity is good for society for no reason at all, and my line earlier that I think if I stopped enjoying being trans then I could and would stop being trans is really important here. But this does shift the focus from “Why are you trans” to “why do you enjoy being trans?” and I think that shift is important. I wonder if my street epistemology guy should shift his focus from “Why do you believe in God” to “Why do you enjoy believing in God?” or even “Why do you think it’s good to believe in God?” I wonder where that would lead him.