#can't even entertain a discussion about it at this point

[heavensoutofsight]

indulgence | b.e.

synopsis: you meet up with a woman at a dingy night club in attempts to forget about your horrible break-up with your ex; she's incredibly charming and easily the most attractive woman you've ever met. you're lonely and touch-starved, and this mysterious yet alluring woman makes you an offer you just can't deny. but -- you eventually come to the realization that there is more than what meets the eye with her.

tags/warnings: voyeurism, discussion of casual hook-ups/fwb relations, blood drinking, sexual content (oral sex, fingering, dom!billie), angst if you squint really hard, fluffiness at the end

word count: 8.7k

author's note: okay there are a few things i want to clarify first. number one: billie's fangs are retractable. two: she can be out in the sun. just for the sake of the narrative 😭😭 sorry to any hardcore vampire lore fans. that's about it, just wanted to get that out of the way. DINNER IS SERVED ENJOYYY.

also here is a link to what i imagine billie wears during a certain scene... you'll know when you get there ;)

taglist: @brat-at-the-disco, @hannahluvsbillie, @karaeilishh, @rhearipley-69, @bilssturns, @bla1rxoxo, @billiesrighthand, @weluvwbb, @belleishot, @floweiralie, @natbelovasblog (forgot to add again omg)

You weren't much of a party person; you could really only enjoy small social gatherings with close friends at most, as anything bigger than that almost always had you mentally exhausted by the end of it; and yet, despite your distaste for big parties, you currently found yourself in a bustling club, filled to the brim with sweaty, gyrating strangers and music so loud you were certain you'd lose a little bit of your hearing later. 

You were seated at the bar, watching the people on the dance floor move their bodies carelessly, drunken smiles plastered on everybody's faces. The multi-colored strobe lights vibrantly flashed, some of them flickering to the beat of the music. 

The only reason you were here was because your friends insisted that you tag along; and while you would typically be against going to these kinds of places, you decided to entertain them just for one night—besides, they were just trying to be helpful. You were still trying to get over an ex-girlfriend of yours, and while the heartbreak was less painful now, given that it had been a few weeks, you were still clearly in the mourning process. You friends went on and on about how the club would be the perfect place to forget everything, and for a second, you foolishly thought that maybe they would be right, and you entertained their idea.

But, in reality, your ex was still on your mind, and going clubbing didn't seem to be much of a remedy at all. Neither the loud music, the crowded room, or even the alcohol could fully distract you from the heartache that you were still experiencing from the messiness that was your last relationship. If anything, sitting at the bar completely alone only made you feel a bit worse. You saw so many couples out on the dance floor, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy.

Eventually, your eyes found your friends; they were also on the dance floor, uncoordinated limbs flying all over the place as they moved to the beat. Just a few minutes ago they tried to get you to come with them, but you declined the offer, to which they all just smiled apologetically at you before leaving you at the bar. You were thankful that they respected your decision, although you did feel a bit bad for essentially rejecting them. But with the mood you were in right now, dancing just didn't sound very appealing. 

At some point, the club was beginning to feel a bit stuffy; you could feel a thin coat of sweat forming on your skin and you weren't even moving. The peaceful quietness and cool weather of the outside sounded more than lovely at the moment, so after you quickly downed your beverage and tipped the bartender, you grabbed your things and headed for the exit, not even sparing your friends a glance. 

Once you stepped out, you decided to sneak around to the back of the building, away from any watchful eyes. You leaned against the building's hard exterior, closing your eyes, taking in deep breaths. The clean air was refreshing compared to the nauseating stench of weed with a tinge of vomit from inside the club. 

You were so focused on just escaping and getting some alone time that you failed to realize there were already a couple of people out here. You did realize they were there when you heard the unmistakable sound of a moan. It definitely wasn't a moan of pain, either.

Your eyes shot open, and you turned your head to where you heard the sound. Your eyes ever so slightly widened as you took in the sight before you.

It was two women; one of them, a blonde dressed in a black mini skirt with a matching sheer black top, both of which left absolutely nothing to the imagination, was being pinned to the wall by another, more masculine appearing, dark-haired woman who was clad in baggy, dark jeans, an equally baggy matching denim jacket, and a white tee, one that she was drowning in. The dark-haired woman had her mouth on her neck (probably giving her a hickey, you assumed) and her hand was clearly under her skirt. The blonde was enjoying every second, her perfectly manicured hands gripping the other woman's denim jacket and her eyes screwed shut in unadulterated passion. 

You felt like a total creep, watching this unfold, but once again, you felt that familiar feeling of jealousy blossom within you as you watched this random woman ascend to cloud nine. You hadn't been touched like that in what felt like an eternity. Your last relationship went through a bit of a dry spell, especially toward the end of it. Sure, masturbation helped; but more than anything you craved the touch of another woman.

Your eyes stayed glued onto them. Even though there was a voice in the back of your head screaming at you to look away, you shamefully ignored it. 

You watched as the dark-haired woman moved her hand faster, eventually pulling away from her neck, leaning in close to the woman she was pleasuring. She had begun whispering something to the blonde, something that made the blonde nod fervently. With the distance in between the two of you, you couldn't make out what was being said; but it was clear it had an effect on the woman.

At this point, the blonde woman wasn't exactly very quiet, her moans growing in volume, transitioning from light and breathy to loud and brash. The dark-haired woman simply put a hand over her mouth, continuing her ministrations down below, her hand moving at a crazy, relentless pace. You couldn't help but feel a wave of heat wash over you, pooling within your belly and traveling to your own nether regions. It was a bit embarrassing and it would definitely haunt you later, but you couldn't fight the natural reaction your body was having at that moment.

Eventually, the blonde woman very clearly reached her peak, her legs shaking like leaves and her cries of pleasure reaching a new pitch. Her eyes were open now and she was looking directly at the woman in front of her. She was still wailing profusely, even as she was coming down from her high, and the dark-haired girl didn't let up until the blonde tapped her shoulder a few times. 

The dark-haired woman then removed her fingers from under the blonde's skirt. She slowly brought her two fingers to her mouth, sucking them clean right in front of her, never once breaking eye contact. You couldn't stop the way your jaw dropped slightly at the sight, feeling a faint but unmistakable throbbing sensation within your core now.

The blonde just laughed, leaning her head against the wall, wearing a fucked-out expression. “Holy shit, Billie,” you heard her say. “You're so fucking hot.” 

The dark-haired woman, you presumed was named Billie, just smirked. “Mmm, right back at you, mama.” 

The blonde just giggled some more, now leaning her head on Billie's shoulder. At the movement, you just barely heard her do a sharp, pained inhale, her hand clasping the side of her neck that Billie was showing a lot of love to earlier. 

“This hurts,” the blonde woman whined. “It'll go away, right?” 

Billie absentmindedly began fiddling with the woman's sheer top as she answered. “Yes, just give it a couple days, okay? Since the weather's getting cooler you can just cover it up with a scarf or something, no problem.” 

“Good idea. If my boyfriend found out, I'd be fucking dead.” 

“You still haven't dumped his ass yet?” 

The blonde sighed. “I'm just… still figuring out how to break the news to him.” 

“You told me that last time, Ashley.” 

“I know, I know. Just give me, like, a week. Okay?” The blonde—named Ashley—said, twirling a strand of dark hair around her finger, biting her lip. Billie just leaned in, giving her one last messy kiss.

Billie pulled away first, giving her waist a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, sure, a week,” she stepped away, shoving her hands in the pockets of her denim jacket. 

“I'll see you later, babygirl.” Billie said. Ashley just beamed at her, re-adjusting her skirt and heading back into the club, but not before finally meeting eyes with you on her way back in. Her smile dropped, and she looked at you with disgust. 

“Perv.” Was all she said to you before leaving. You couldn't even feel completely offended, because you kinda were being a perv. The shame was really starting to kick in now. You dropped your eyes to the ground, hoping that the other woman wouldn't confront you either. 

Unfortunately for you, she did exactly that. And the words that came out of her mouth were completely unexpected.

“Did you enjoy the show?” She asked. You foolishly looked around to see if there was possibly anybody else she could be talking to; of course, it was most definitely just you. You tensed, reluctantly meeting the woman's eyes. She was already staring at you, dark eyes still slightly hooded, a lazy grin resting on her face. 

You nearly blurted out something about how fucking hot she was. Maybe you would have if not for the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment you were feeling right now.

“I'm- I'm really sorry, I– I don't know why I– I'm sorry. God, I'm a fucking creep– look, I can just leave, okay?” You uttered, your cheeks burning under Billie's heavy gaze. She only chuckled at your floundering (and it was by far the sexiest sound you've ever heard).

“Don't be sorry. Answer me.” she spoke, voice gentle but undeniably firm. She stepped a bit closer to you, repeating her words: “Did you enjoy the show?” 

There was no denying how dominating her presence was. You didn't know this woman at all and yet you felt so compelled to do whatever she asked of you. It only made you even more embarrassed– you were so desperate for intimacy and attention that you were just about close to begging at the feet of the first attractive woman you ran into. You were a total mess.

“Um,” you started, your voice meek. “Yeah. I… I did.” You said, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow you up.

She chuckled once more. “Don't feel bad about it, it's okay. I'm kinda into that shit, to be honest.” 

Her response just made your cheeks burn hotter. You weren't sure if she was joking or not, but either way, her words were certainly making an impact on you.

“Oh,” was the only word that left your mouth, your brain effectively shutting down in this woman's presence. 

“Hm,” Billie began, looking at you inquisitively. “You're cute.” 

“I– um– thank you.” You stammered out, internally cringing at your own awkwardness. Your panic in front of her was also going to haunt you later – probably for the rest of your life. 

Billie just seemed highly amused at your predicament. “I love making pretty girls flustered,” She said. You didn't miss the way her eyes gave you a quick look up and down; she wasn't particularly subtle about it. “Could I fluster you some more over lunch? Or coffee, if that's more your thing.” 

You were taken aback by her rather direct offer. Crossing your arms, you scoffed. 

“Would your girlfriend be okay with that?” 

Billie laughed. “Oh, Ashley? She's not my girlfriend. She just… comes to me when she needs to relieve some stress. It's nothing serious.” 

“I see.” You said, nodding. “Stress relief, huh?”

“Yup. She's got an insensitive asshole for a boyfriend who has absolutely no idea how to even pleasure a woman."

"That's… tragic." You commented.

"Very," Billie replied. "So, when she needs to take her mind off of him for a bit… I'm there for her. Like a distraction of sorts."

She licked her lips, and you found yourself entranced by the simple action. She gazed at you curiously, a dangerous smirk resting on her face. She said her next words quietly as if anyone else was around to hear them. "We could all use a distraction sometimes, right?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

"You look like you could use one." Billie said suddenly, a teasing edge to her voice; there was no missing the underlying implication in that sentence, and you couldn't help the smirk that grew on your face.

"You think I need a distraction?"

"Yeah. I can kinda sense these things."

A light chuckle escaped you at that. "Really now? Well… I guess you wouldn't be wrong." You replied, briefly thinking back to the reason you were here in the first place. Obviously, clubbing was not helping you in forgetting about your ex like you hoped it would. Maybe what you truly needed was a fun little hook-up with no strings attached.

Billie could tell that you were deeply pondering your response, and she spoke up again. "You know, I can give you a really good time..." She insisted, her voice lowering in a way that made you feel cartwheels in your stomach.

You still hesitated a bit; although Billie was the hottest woman you've ever laid eyes on, you didn't really have experience with causal relationships. You had heard some horror stories from your friends about their own causal hook-ups about how messy and damaging they could be. But at the same time, walking away from a woman whose looks could rival Aphrodite felt like a crime.

"Well… I-"

"How about this," Billie interrupted. "Give me your hand."

You just stared at her, confused, eyebrows furrowed.

"O… kay?" You said, eventually doing as she asked. When you stuck out your hand, Billie was quick to dive her own into the large pocket of her denim jacket, pulling out a pen. She took your palm into a surprinsingly cold hand and began hastily writing something on it--you very quickly realized that they were numbers.

"That's my number," Billie said, putting the lid to her pen back on and returning it to its place in her pocket. "When you've made up your mind, just call me, and we can go out and get to know each other a bit, yeah?" She said with a grin that made your heart flutter.

You looked down at the number sprawled messily across your palm, and then back at her. You gave her a shy smile.

"Alright. Sure." You replied.

"Great." Billie said, grin widening into a smile of her own. "You have a good rest of your night—"

"Wait." You said, stopping her from walking off. She was silent as she waited for you to continue, staring at you with expectancy.

"Do you… do you just carry around a pen with you all the time, or…?"

Billie laughed at that, and you immediately found yourself replaying the sound in your head.

"Of course I do. I need to have it on me just in case I run into any pretty girls like you." She spoke, the flirtatious words easily and smoothly pouring out of her like butter. You let out a giggle, biting your lip to stop your smile from growing any bigger. You were feeling like a hormonal teenager all over again because of this mysterious woman's charm. You had a feeling that she probably used that line on a ton of women, but it didn't make you feel any less like a flustered mess.

Billie seemed to thoroughly enjoy your reaction to her shameless flirting, her own smile never once leaving her lips.

At that moment, the heated tension between the two of you was intercepted as a familiar face rounded the corner.

"Oh my god, there you are—" your friend, Carly, exclaimed. Surprisingly, she didn't seem super drunk, only mildly buzzed, her face flushed, hairs sticking to her forehead due to a light coating of sweat.

"I was looking everywhere for you—oh. Hello." Carly suddenly noticed Billie's presence.

Billie's smile faltered a bit at the sudden appearance of another person. "Uh… hey." She said.

"Um… was I interrupting something?" Carly spoke. You saw her wiggling her eyebrows, which immediately caused you to roll your eyes.

"You ready to go?" You asked, ignoring her question.

"Are you?" She retaliated with a knowing smirk. You glanced at Billie, who wore an unreadable expression.

"Don't let me keep you." Billie uttered, and the slight hint of disappointment in her voice was just barely noticeable. "You seemed kinda tired anyway."

"Yeah," you replied quietly, feeling awkwardness creep into the atmosphere. You looked back at Carly. "We can go." You said. Carly nodded, grabbing your hand. As the two of you began walking toward the front of the building, you stole one last glance at Billie.

Her smirk had returned, and while making a phone gesture with her hand, she mouthed the words: "Call me?"

You just shrugged, a smirk of your own tugging at the corners of your lips as you disappeared around the corner.

Eventually, you and Carly made it back to the car, where your other friends were in the backseat, completely knocked out. Since you had barely anything to drink, you decided to be the one to drive.

The ride back to your place was quiet for a while, the car radio softly playing some songs from Carly's playlist. Soon enough, though, your slightly tipsy friend in the front seat next to you piped up.

"So… you gonna tell me all about that fucking hottie back there?" She asked. Your eyes were locked on the road, not even looking at her, but you could hear the teasing smile in her voice.

"She just… walked up to me. She was already out there."

"Was she hitting on you?"

You felt your cheeks heat up thinking back to your brief conversation with her. "Yeah… I think she was."

"Oh my god. Please tell me you got her number. If I find out you walked away from her without getting those fucking digits I swear to god—"

"Yes, she gave me her number." You said, chewing on your bottom lip, once again trying to stop a smile from growing— you couldn't have your friend seeing just how smitten you were already for a girl you knew for all of twenty minutes.

You heard Carly gasp excitedly. "Holy shit. Girl, you better fucking pounce on that. Before I do."

"You literally have a girlfriend."

"Yeah, well, we've been talking about having an open relationship lately, so… she wouldn't mind."

You couldn't hold back your surprised laughter. "Oh my god." You said through a fit of chuckles.

The rest of the car ride home, you couldn't stop thinking about thr mysterious, dark-haired woman. You couldn't stop thinking about that devilish smirk she wore. You couldn't stop thinking about her intoxicating scent.

Yeah. You were definitely calling that number.

_____

"Okay, so… how do I look?" You asked your friend Carly via video call, standing in front of the mirror while you filmed yourself adjusting your flowy, white blouse. You hadn't gone out on a date in ages—to say that you were quite nervous was putting it lightly.

"You look gorgeous. You're totally getting some tonight." Carly said. You chuckled at that, rolling your eyes and feeling warmth rush to your face.

"Oh, shut up," you said playfully. Looking at the screen, you saw Carly shrug, sporting a teasing smile.

"What? Isn't that the end goal?" She questioned.

"I mean… I would say the end goal is not making a fool out of myself." You replied earnestly, your stomach feeling as if it was in knots currently; Bilie had already texted you a few minutes ago saying she was on her way, and any second now she'd appear right outside your house. You really hoped you wouldn't turn into babbling idiot upon seeing her face.

"That's not gonna happen," Carly reassured. "You've gone on plenty of dates before, what's different this time?"

"It's been a million years, Carly." You stated.

"So what? Just… keep doing what you've always done, y'know? Be yourself."

You let the truth of your friend's words really set in, and you began to feel yourself relax ever so slightly. You breathed in and out, now looking at yourself in the mirror with a newfound confidence. You hoped that confidence would be here to stay.

"You always know just what to say." You spoke, your tone a mix of playful and sincere.

"Of course. I'm a genius." Carly jokingly replied. You smiled, opening your mouth to respond, when you suddenly heard your doorbell ring.

You froze, and you couldn't ignore the way your heart rate increased in mere seconds.

"Oh shit, she's here." You said with barely contained enthusiasm. "I gotta go. Thanks for the fashion advice."

Carly grinned, giving you a wink. "Any time. Hope you have the best sex of your li-"

You hung up on her in the middle of your sentence, once again rolling your eyes at your friend's bluntness, wearing an amused smile.

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, quickly straightening out your shirt and pants and doing last minute readjustments to your hair. You did all of this in the span of a few seconds, not wanting to keep Billie waiting for too long. Soon enough, you were exiting your bathroom and heading toward your front door, grabbing your purse on the way.

You were not at all prepared for what you'd be greeted with upon opening it.

There Billie stood, her long, shiny dark hair down and framing her face beautifully. She was wearing a standard black suit, one that was stylishly oversized, with a matching black tie and simple, thin glasses that rested perfectly on her nose. In the daylight, she appeared paler than you initially thought, but no less gorgeous. When her eyes locked onto your face, she gave you a grin that caused a million and one butterflies to viciously attack your stomach. You also didn't miss the way her eyes quickly gave you a once over, her bottom lip being pulled between her teeth briefly as she took you in.

"Hey, pretty girl. You look absolutely stunning."

Immediately, you found yourself looking down at the ground shyly, a wide smile overtaking your features. "Thank you, Billie." You replied. Your eyes met her again, and you gazed appreciatively at her own outfit once more.

"You look… wonderful as well." You said. She also looked like the sexiest woman alive but you didn't want to lay it on too thick too soon.

"Thanks," Billie replied, still sporting that lazy grin. "You got everything?"

"Um… yeah. Yes." You spoke nervously. Billie just chuckled endearingly at your slightly anxious disposition.

"Okay, then. Let's go." She said, offering you her arm to hold onto. It was such a simple action, and yet you already felt yourself swooning.

She politely walked you to the car (which was just as sexy as the person driving it, you noted), and when you both got there, Billie was quick to open the door to passenger's seat for you. The chivalrous, gentlemanly action made your heart warm, and you were sure to mutter a shy "thank you" in response.

The car ride to the restaurant (a sandwhich place specifically, one that was your favorite—Billie let you choose), was pleasant and comfortable, the sound of Billie's playlist softly playing from her car's speakers. You couldn't help but shamelessly stare at Billie as she drove, her gaze locked on the road ahead of her. Sometimes, she drove with one hand for a bit, and whenever she did you were thankful that you were already seated because otherwise your knees would have buckled at the sight.

You were only pulled out of your ogling when you noticed Billie had turned the music down.

"So," she began, smiling cutely. "How was your day?"

"Boring, for the most part. I was at work just feeling… antsy. I've been really looking forward to this." You replied honestly.

"Me too. I was… really hoping you'd call." Billie said, her voice getting a tad smaller in volume toward the end of the sentence, seemingly a little shy about her confession, which you found positively endearing since she was normally so flirtatious and bold (from what you've seen of her so far, anyway).

"Is that so?" You replied with a grin. "Well, I would have been the world's biggest idiot to not call you. It only took me a while because I was, uh…" you trailed off, suddenly feeling embarrasment wash over you.

At a red light, Billie glanced at you quizzically, wondering why you had cut yourself off. "You were…?"

You chuckled, absentmindedly playing with the fabric of your blouse. "I was, um… nervous."

"Nervous?" Billie repeated, and even though you were no longer looking at her, you could hear the teasing lilt to her voice.

"Yeah," you confirmed in a meek voice, chuckling some more—it was something you often did automatically when anxious, like a reflex.

"So you're saying… I make you nervous."

You felt your face heat up even more, so much so that sticking your head in a bucket of cold ice water felt highly appealing at the moment. "Well—I mean, it's been a while since my last date, so that's definitely why, but… I guess it is also because of you." You said.

You heard Billie let out an adorable giggle of her own. "God, you're so fucking cute." You heard her say quietly, under her breath almost, like she didn't want you to hear—but of course, you caught onto to every word, and the compliment only unleased the butterflies within your stomach yet again.

"Well, pretty girl, you don't have to be nervous around me. You don't find me intimidating, do you?" Billie asked playfully.

"Well, not neccessarily intimidating, just… really funny. And beautiful. I wanna make a good impression."

Billie smirked. "You already made a good first impression at that club the other night."

"Really?" You said with a groan as you recalled the events of that night and your embarrassing actions. "Even though I was… kinda being a weirdo?"

"I told you, I found it hot."

"You were being serious about that?" You said through breathy laughter.

"Of course I was."

"You are… something else." You said, to which Billie just smiled.

_____

Several minutes of playful banter later, you and Billie had finally made it to the quaint little sandwich shop. It was a small place, and the atmosphere was quiet and tranquil as there were only a few other customers spread out in the building. The both of you chose to sit in a cozy booth, in front of a large window that looked out to various people going about their day, the sunlight providing natural lightning that filled the entire area. Upon sitting down, a waitress was already coming to serve the both of you, taking both of your orders for drinks and handing you the menu before shuffling away. You got the same thing every time you came here, so you really didn't look at the menu much at all. You glanced at Billie, who only browsed through the menu for a couple of minutes before setting it down and placing it aside. She seemed to have decided what she wanted fairly quickly.

"So," Billie began with a grin. "Do you come to this place a lot?"

"Yeah. It's great. Have you been here before?"

Billie shook her head. "Nope, first time. Honestly, I don't really… eat out much."

"I see. You more of a delivery person? Or, do you prefer cooking?"

"Uh… sure. Yeah." Billie replied a little awkwardly, shifting in her seat. You weren't sure what she was saying "yeah" to, the delivery part or the cooking part, but you didn't think anything of it, finding her more endearing than anything.

She cleared her throat. "You already know what you're getting?"

"Yup. I get the same thing every time. This place makes a killer BLT," You replied. "What about you? I noticed you didn't look at the menu for very long. Something caught your eye already?"

"The roasted cauliflower sandwich sounds good."

"Ooh, it does," You said, picking up the menu to find the sandwich in question to briefly read the ingredients. You noticed that it was under the vegan section.

"You're vegan?" You asked, not in a accusatory way but simply out of pure curiosity.

Billie cleared her throat before replying. "Uh—yeah. Have been my whole life." she spoke, absentmindedly fiddling with the several rings on her fingers.

"I've tried going vegan, but there's just so many foods I can't pass up."

Billie chuckled. "Yeah, well, it's certaintly not the kind of diet that suits everyone."

"That's true." You agreed.

Shortly after your brief conversation, you both ordered your food, and much to your surprise (and delight) the food arrived fairly quickly, and you and Billie didn't have to wait for very long.

While you felt a little awkward initially, as time went on, you found yourself relaxing more and more in Billie's presence. The two of you meshed well together; you both had similar senses of humor and equally found each other hilarious, and you even had a lot of things in common in terms of hobbies. During your date with Billie you also discovered that she had two adorable pitbulls, an older brother, a job as a music producer and songwriter, and that she used to be in a choir growing up. Every little thing that you learned about her only made you love her more, and frankly you didn't want the date to end. Billie never at any point slowed down the conversation, and she was so attentive when you were speaking, her eyes fixed on you the entire time as she asked several follow-up questions, hanging onto your every word. You didn't expect to mesh so well with her, and for a second, you almost forgot that the whole reason this started was because you both wanted a casual hook-up and nothing serious. At the reminder, you felt a twinge in your heart; the last thing you wanted was to fall in love with someone who clearly wasn't looking for commitment, so you shoved those feelings away for now.

When there was finally a lull in conversation between the both of you, you felt like it was necessary to talk more in detail about your particular… arrangement.

"So, uh…" You began, shifting a bit in your seat. "We should probably talk about our… y'know. Situation."

Leaning back in her seat, Billie seemed to immediately catch what you were throwing at her. "Right," she said with a smirk. "What about it?"

"Well… how exactly does a casual relationship even work? To be honest, I've never really—I mean, I just don't have much experience with—"

"We can just hang out. Y'know, like friends. Friends who fuck occasionally." Billie said, and her bluntness had your eyebrows raising slightly.

"Oh. Okay." You said, and at your expression of surprise, contagious laughter arose from Billie's throat.

"Cute," she muttered to herself before leaning in a bit closer to you, pushing her now clean plate aside and placing her arms on the table. "Anyway, that's what you want, right? I don't want you to agree to anything that you're iffy about it. You're free to change your mind about this whole thing."

Your heart warmed at Billie's consideration. You took a moment to actually think about it; even though casual was never really your thing, your friends all insisted that you might enjoy the freedom that comes with a no-strings attached relationship, and you felt like you might as well give it go since you only live once, after all. You hoped it wouldn't end in a total heartbreak—although, if it did, you'd probably get good sex out of it, which was kind of a silver lining.

You met Billie's eyes with a serious gaze. "Yes. I do want this."

"Okay… and you're cool with this relationship being open? As in, we can both see other people while also seeing each other?"

Honestly, with how attractive Billie was physically and personality wise, you didn't see yourself spending time with another woman, but you agreed anyway, nodding your head. "Yeah. That's fine."

At that, a smile grew on Billie's lips. "Okay. Great."

Having eaten a good meal and talked about all the important stuff, you and Billie finally left the sandwich shop, right as the sun was dipping past the horizon. The sky was a beautiful mix of oranges and pinks, and it had cooled down a bit, a slight breeze in the air. You and Billie both agreed that you didn't want the date to stop there, so the two of you rather impulsively decided to take a walk in the park, admiring the sunset side by side. Even then, it was like you could never run out of things to talk about with Billie. Your first date with your ex wasn't even this long, surprisingly.

Unfornately, it was getting late, and Billie had to drive you back home. But even when she walked you all the way to your door, you still didn't feel like the day was over.

You had your key in the door, but before turning it, you looked at Billie with a contemplative gaze.

"Y'know… the night's still young," you began, wearing a crooked grin. "Do you want to come in, Billie?"

Billie bit her lip as she smiled knowingly.

"I'd love to." She replied, and your grin turned into a wide smile of your own as you finally opened the door, inviting her inside.

It was totally innocent at first. Billie had made herself comfortable, taking off her shoes and her blazer. The two of you decided to put on a movie, and at first, you both were sitting with a respectable amount of distance between the two of you; but at some point during the movie, you both grew closer to each other, unknowingly. There was also a moment where Billie wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and you instantly felt yourself melting into her side. The two of you fit together so naturally, like you were both missing pieces to a puzzle. Her vanilla-scented perfume was intoxicating, and so was the warmth of her touch.

At some point, you weren't really focusing on the movie anymore. You placed a sly hand on Billie's thigh, not moving it; just keeping it there, but when Billie didn't respond, keeping her eyes on the film, you squeezed ever so gently.

That's when Billie looked at you then, raising an eyebrow.

"To be honest, Billie…" you said, meeting her eyes. "This movie is kinda boring."

Billie grinned. "I thought so too," she replied, her eyes briefly flickering down to your lips.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked her, but you definitely already knew the answer and just wanted to tease.

"I'm thinking about… kissing the shit out of you."

You leaned in impossibly closer to her, your voice barely above a whisper as you responded with, "What's stopping you?"

At that, Billie didn't hesitate, immediately closing the small distance between the both of you. One of your hands went up to cup her face as you passionately moved your lips against hers. Billie tilted her head, deepening the kiss, and after only a couple of minutes you felt her tongue swipe at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission. You didn't waste a second in giving her what she so politely was asking for, opening your mouth slightly and feeling the tip of your tongue meet hers.

At some point, without even fully realizing it, you had climbed into Billie's lap; her hands were gripping your waist tightly, as if you'd disappear into thin air if she let go for so much as a second. The glasses that rested atop her nose were shifting a bit, and she pulled away for a split second to hastily remove them and throw them elsewhere on the couch before immediately going back to kissing you.

As time went on, things only got more intense; in your growing neediness, you found yourself slowly grinding into her lap, and Billie's hands slowly moved from your waist to your ass, guiding your movements. You needed her like you needed oxygen, and with every passing second your clothes were feeling more and more like annoying barriers.

You pulled away reluctantly, looking at Billie with eyes blown wide and lips shiny with spit. You tugged on the black tie that she was still wearing.

"You are sexy as hell in this suit, but I need you out of it."

Billie let out a laugh, one that sounded a bit breathless. "That can be arranged, baby." She said, and the pet name that rolled off her tongue made you swoon.

You both stood up, going back to kissing each other, trying to walk to your bedroom at the same time. You stumbled into walls and corners here and there, giggling the entire way.

When you both made it to your bedroom, Billie had kept walking you toward your bed until your knees hit the edge of it; you instinctively laid down, and Billie quickly crawled on top of you, keeping some of her weight off of you as she continued attacking your lips.

Eventually, she began kissing down to your neck, biting and sucking, and you even heard her inhale, feeling her nose pressed into your skin.

"Fuck," Billie groaned. "You—you smell so good. Holy shit."

You grinned at that. "You can still smell the perfume I chose for you?"

"Yeah, I can but—I meant you. Your skin."

"Oh," you said, letting out some surprised chuckles. "So it's my body wash you like?"

"Yeah… yeah, that…" Billie trailed off, continuing to pepper your neck in kisses and small bites. You were letting out pleased sighs the entire time, your eyes fluttering shut. You felt Billie's fingers toying with the hem of your shirt.

"Can I take this off?" She asked you, tugging at it impatiently. You immediately nodded with zero hesitation, and Billie made quick work of removing the article of clothing, throwing it haphazardly to the floor. You sat up a bit to remove your bra, lazily throwing it elsewhere as well. You watched Billie's hooded eyes take in your shirtless form, her eyes widening ever so slightly as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Oh my god." She muttered under her breath. "I want to devour you." She just barely whispered.

Your felt heat rush to your face at her words. "Please do. But take off your shirt, first." You said with a playful smirk.

Billie chuckled, following your command. She removed the tie, and with a painful slowness unbuttoned her clean, white shirt. Even just seeing her in her pretty lace bra was enough to leave you breathless.

Soon enough, the bra was off too, and your mouth watered at the sight of her breasts looking so soft and perfect—but before you could even suggest playing with them for a bit, Billie returned to kissing down your body, and immediately, all thoughts left your mind.

Her mouth latched onto a nipple, and you gasped, squirming underneath her as her tongue swirled around the hardening bud. Her other hand played with the other one, tugging gently. Your eyes were shut again, focusing closely on the pleasurable sensations you were experiencing.

Billie gave the same treatment to your other breast, this time switching it up a bit by quickly flicking her tongue up and down, and you already felt your back arching a bit, your gasps turning into drawn out whines.

"Billie," you moaned. "Fuck, please—"

Billie released your breast from her mouth with an audible pop. "What do you want, baby?" She teased.

You tried pushing her further down, attempting to silently communicate to her where you really needed her mouth. But Billie wasn't taking your whiny pleas as an answer.

"You're a big girl, mama. Use your words." Billie said, her attractive voice low and stern. The way the new pet name sounded in her voice nearly made you lightheaded and you desperately needed to hear it again. You let out an impatient groan, but you were no doubt enjoying every minute of this.

"Please, Billie—I want your mouth," You pleaded. "Please. Please give it to me."

"Where do you want my mouth, baby? Gotta be more specific." She said with an evil smirk on her face. With every passing minute, you felt the throbbing sensation in your cunt become more and more unbearable, and that damn look on Billie's face only made it worse.

"Fuck—need your tongue on my pussy, Billie, please."

At that, Billie gave you a pleased smile. "Atta girl." She said, already moving her hands to the buttons of your jeans. You raised your hips, helping Billie in removing them from your lower body, along with your socks. You instictively spread your bare legs, suddenly feeling a little bit embarrased at the wet spot that you no doubt knew was prominent on your cotton underwear. You watched as Billie licked her lips, staring at your cunt as if she was in a trance.

She hadn't even done anything yet but you were already gripping the bedsheets in anticipation.

At that moment, she took two fingers, hooking them around the waistband of your underwear and pulling them, before suddenly releasing and letting the waistband snap back against your skin. You let out a surprised yelp, which Billie chuckled at, before moving those fingers directly against your fabric-covered cunt.

"Can fucking feel how wet you are—can see it, too," Billie said, expertly finding your clit even through your underwear and rubbing it in slow circles that made you squirm. "I want you to cum in my mouth, mama. How does that sound?"

You nearly moaned at her words alone. "Yes—yes, fuck, please." Was all you could muster, your body and mind completely overcome with unadultered desire. You don't remember the last time you felt so turned on, so needy.

When Billie was done teasing you through fabric, she slowly began to remove your underwater, tossing them aside once they were fully off. Your pussy lay bare in front of her, glistening and clenching around nothing, and Billie gasped.

"Look at this pretty fucking cunt, all for me," she said, her breathe hitting your folds. "Goddamn."

"Billie, I swear to god—"

You were about to complain about how slow she was being until you suddenly felt her mouth on your soft thighs. She peppered small kisses there, purposefully avoiding the place you needed her the most. She did this for a minute or two, leaving your whole body on edge.

But finally—finally, you felt her two fingers spread you open a bit more, messily spitting directly onto your center, before she gave your needy pussy one long and slow stripe of her tongue, her lips gently closing around your clit when she reached the top. Immediately, your head was thrown back into the pillows and your hands flew into Billie's hair, gripping tightly. 

"Yes—fuck yes, Billie," you cried out, pure bliss washing over you as Billie moved her tongue against your heat with so much skill and practiced ease. She went into a steady pattern, licking around your clit in circles before gently sucking it, while also not forgetting to give you broad, long strokes every now and then. You were writhing around a lot more now, and Billie had to hold you down, keeping your legs forced open so you couldn't close them around your head. She held onto you, tightly, not letting you escape her tongue for so much as a second. You felt like you were in heaven.

You tried not to pull her hair too hard, but Billie didn't even seem to care, too busy devouring you like you were her last meal on earth. She played your body like an instrument, knowing exactly which buttons to press that made you lose all sense of reality.

“Oh my god, Billie– fuck.” You cursed, feeling completely overwhelmed by the immense amount of pleasure you were receiving. With your eyes closed, it allowed you to really hone in on every precise swipe of Billie's tongue– and eventually, her fingers. 

You felt two of Billie's slender digits push into you, while her tongue started focusing directly on your bundle of nerves. That was enough to make you squeal, your legs attempting to close around Billie's head, but failing due to her keeping them pried open. 

She was thrusting her fingers in and out of you at a fairly quick pace, and her lips never stopped their gentle suction around your clit. The combination of her fingers against your walls and the direct clit stimulation very quickly brought you close to your peak, your eyes squeezed shut and your chest moving up and down rapidly. You felt a tightening sensation within your stomach, and it was getting tighter every passing second. When you felt your orgasm on the rise, you decided to open your eyes, wanting to look at Billie's face while you climaxed. It was no surprise when they fluttered open that you were met with Billie's eyes already on you, staring at you hungrily.

“Billie– fuck, don't you dare fucking stop,” you squeezed out in between loud moans. Billie obliged, not stopping or slowing down for so much as a second, well aware of how close you were—even though she hadn't known you for long, she could easily tell when a woman was at the edge, the subtle changes in body language extremely noticeable to her keen eyes.

You felt it—as Billie kept up with her ministrations, looking at you with her intense gaze, it quickly became too much for you. The tightening sensation in your gut finally reached its peak, and you felt yourself tumbling into an orgasm, fast.

"Oh my god—fuck yes, Billie—fuck—!"

Your orgasm washed over you in waves; the feeling was pure euphoria, your toes curling and your hands flying out of Billie's hair to clutch the sheets with a death grip instead. Your back arched beautifully, and while you were still feeling every little shock, Billie didn't let up, allowing you to ride out the sensation of your orgasm until it gradually faded away. It wasn't until your legs were twitching and you were gently pushing her away that she slowed down, and eventually removed her mouth from your center.

When you were able to open your eyes, you looked down at Billie, noticing how the lower half of her face glistened with your juices and how her eyes glazed over. You were suddenly feeling shy again at the mess you made.

Your head went back into the pillow as you let out an airy laugh, still trying to catch your breath.

"Fuck, Billie… I want you all to myself." You said in a daze, not even fully aware of the sentence that left your mouth.

"Me too," you heard Billie reply. "God, I want more."

Billie sounded starved, as if eating you out wasn't enough for her. You chuckled.

"Just—just give me a minute, and then maybe we can—"

Suddenly, you felt a sharp, prickly sensation. Billie was biting you—but it didn't feel like the gentle, playful bites that Billie was giving you earlier. This bite was painful.

You gasped.

"Billie—ow! Fuck, that hurts—"

But then, the pain slowly morphed into something more pleasurable. Your brain was completely confused at the dual sensations.

You let out a moan as you felt Billie's mouth remain in place. You looked down, still too fucked out to fully process what was happening, but you saw Billie's mouth latched onto your thigh, her eyes closed in bliss. Your eyebrows furrowed.

It wasn't until Billie pulled away that your eyes completely widened—in fear.

There were two puncture wounds in your thigh, and you saw two very sharp teeth in Billie's mouth that strangely were not there just a few minutes ago. There was a red substance pouring from your puncture wounds and dripping from Billie's mouth—obviously blood.

"Billie? What—what the fuck?" You said, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

Billie stared back at you, a sudden expression of shock taking over her face like she only just now realized what she had done.

"I'm so sorry—shit," She exclaimed, panic in her voice. "Something came over me—I was just so hungry, fuck."

That was the last thing you heard before your head hit the pillow again and everything went black.

_____

When you awoke, you were greeted with your bedroom ceiling. The room was dim, and you could tell that the sole light source was coming from the lamp on your bedside table.

You felt dizzy, so you didn't make any sudden moves just yet. You laid there, trying to piece together everything that happened the past few hours. It didn't take you long for your memories to come rushing back in. You looked down and noticed that you were atop the covers; your puncture wound was no longer bleeding.

Fangs. A bite mark. Blood. Billie.

You turned your head, and there Billie was, also staring up at the ceiling, her shirt that was previously discarded covering her frame again. She saw you move out of the corner of her eye, and immediately, she was facing you, rolling over onto her side. You could feel her breathe fan across your face.

"Hey, baby," She said softly. "Are you okay?"

You slowly sat up, wincing at the pain you felt in your thigh. Billie looked at you apologetically, also sitting up alongside you.

"Billie… you have some explaining to do."

She sighed. "I know… I'm so sorry—"

"And— I have a lot of fucking questions."

"I totally understand. I'll tell you everything you wanna know. I'll explain everything. I swear. I'm sorry, baby."

"It's…" you trailed off, releasing a sigh of your own. Your eyelids were still heavy with fatigue. "It's okay, Billie."

She looked at you with her eyebrows raised in surprise. "You're not… afraid of me? You're not gonna kick me out?"

"No. I'm not." You told her sincerely. "I just—it feels like I'm dreaming. I can't believe you're… you're a…"

"I know it's a lot to take in." Billie interjected. You scoffed.

"That's putting it lightly."

"Look," Billie began, gently holding one of your hands. You tensed a bit when she touched you, but eventually relaxed.

"I shouldn't have bitten you. Without your consent. But I just—I can't control my actions when I go too long without feeding. It's… a whole thing that I can explain later, but—"

"Billie." You interrupted, squeezing her hand.

She looked at you with eyes full of guilt; it was clear she felt terrible about what she had done, and it warmed your heart to see how sorry she felt.

"Can you… stay the night? I just want you to hold me. I'm tired." You said.

Billie seemed taken aback at your request, clearly not expecting such a response. She was frozen for a while, processing your words, before eventually nodding.

"Yeah. I can do that." She replied. You gave her a tired, barely there smile, one that she returned.

The two of you laid back down together, getting under the covers, Billie wrapping an arm around you as you nestled into her chest. You could feel her bare legs underneath the blankets; she had discarded her pants at some point.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think you'd ever come into close contact with a vampire—those were creatures that, for a long time, you thought only existed in fiction. But now one was holding you and kissing your head and laying with you, and even though you had a million questions plaguing your mind, all you wanted to focus on was the pretty girl you were cuddling with.

You quietly laughed to yourself at the absurdity of it all.

"What?" Billie said, ears catching the sound of your chuckles.

"Nothing," you said. "Thanks, Billie. For the date."

"Of course." She replied, and you could hear the smile in her voice.

The both of you would definitely talk later, but for now, you only cared about the lovely vampire woman keeping you company.

[wewontbesleeping]

remember on reddit how mad people used to get when someone would call a funny image a "meme"? that is an IMAGE MACRO. not a MEME.

[acorviart]

oh the girls are fightinggggg on the email post again

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How to shatter the class solidarity of the ruling class

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me WEDNESDAY (Apr 11) at UCLA, then Chicago (Apr 17), Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Audre Lorde counsels us that "The Master's Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master's House," while MLK said "the law cannot make a man love me, but it can restrain him from lynching me." Somewhere between replacing the system and using the system lies a pragmatic – if easily derailed – course.

Lorde is telling us that a rotten system can't be redeemed by using its own chosen reform mechanisms. King's telling us that unless we live, we can't fight – so anything within the system that makes it easier for your comrades to fight on can hasten the end of the system.

Take the problems of journalism. One old model of journalism funding involved wealthy newspaper families profiting handsomely by selling local appliance store owners the right to reach the townspeople who wanted to read sports-scores. These families expressed their patrician love of their town by peeling off some of those profits to pay reporters to sit through municipal council meetings or even travel overseas and get shot at.

In retrospect, this wasn't ever going to be a stable arrangement. It relied on both the inconstant generosity of newspaper barons and the absence of a superior way to show washing-machine ads to people who might want to buy washing machines. Neither of these were good long-term bets. Not only were newspaper barons easily distracted from their sense of patrician duty (especially when their own power was called into question), but there were lots of better ways to connect buyers and sellers lurking in potentia.

All of this was grossly exacerbated by tech monopolies. Tech barons aren't smarter or more evil than newspaper barons, but they have better tools, and so now they take 51 cents out of every ad dollar and 30 cents out of ever subscriber dollar and they refuse to deliver the news to users who explicitly requested it, unless the news company pays them a bribe to "boost" their posts:

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

The news is important, and people sign up to make, digest, and discuss the news for many non-economic reasons, which means that the news continues to struggle along, despite all the economic impediments and the vulture capitalists and tech monopolists who fight one another for which one will get to take the biggest bite out of the press. We've got outstanding nonprofit news outlets like Propublica, journalist-owned outlets like 404 Media, and crowdfunded reporters like Molly White (and winner-take-all outlets like the New York Times).

But as Hamilton Nolan points out, "that pot of money…is only large enough to produce a small fraction of the journalism that was being produced in past generations":

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/what-will-replace-advertising-revenue

For Nolan, "public funding of journalism is the only way to fix this…If we accept that journalism is not just a business or a form of entertainment but a public good, then funding it with public money makes perfect sense":

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/public-funding-of-journalism-is-the

Having grown up in Canada – under the CBC – and then lived for a quarter of my life in the UK – under the BBC – I am very enthusiastic about Nolan's solution. There are obvious problems with publicly funded journalism, like the politicization of news coverage:

https://www.theguardian.com/media/2023/jan/24/panel-approving-richard-sharp-as-bbc-chair-included-tory-party-donor

And the transformation of the funding into a cheap political football:

https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/poilievre-defund-cbc-change-law-1.6810434

But the worst version of those problems is still better than the best version of the private-equity-funded model of news production.

But Nolan notes the emergence of a new form of hedge fund news, one that is awfully promising, and also terribly fraught: Hunterbrook Media, an investigative news outlet owned by short-sellers who pay journalists to research and publish damning reports on companies they hold a short position on:

https://hntrbrk.com/

For those of you who are blissfully distant from the machinations of the financial markets, "short selling" is a wager that a company's stock price will go down. A gambler who takes a short position on a company's stock can make a lot of money if the company stumbles or fails altogether (but if the company does well, the short can suffer literally unlimited losses).

Shorts have historically paid analysts to dig into companies and uncover the sins hidden on their balance-sheets, but as Matt Levine points out, journalists work for a fraction of the price of analysts and are at least as good at uncovering dirt as MBAs are:

https://www.bloomberg.com/opinion/articles/2024-04-02/a-hedge-fund-that-s-also-a-newspaper

What's more, shorts who discover dirt on a company still need to convince journalists to publicize their findings and trigger the sell-off that makes their short position pay off. Shorts who own a muckraking journalistic operation can skip this step: they are the journalists.

There's a way in which this is sheer genius. Well-funded shorts who don't care about the news per se can still be motivated into funding freely available, high-quality investigative journalism about corporate malfeasance (notoriously, one of the least attractive forms of journalism for advertisers). They can pay journalists top dollar – even bid against each other for the most talented journalists – and supply them with all the tools they need to ply their trade. A short won't ever try the kind of bullshit the owners of Vice pulled, paying themselves millions while their journalists lose access to Lexisnexis or the PACER database:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/24/anti-posse/#when-you-absolutely-positively-dont-give-a-solitary-single-fuck

The shorts whose journalists are best equipped stand to make the most money. What's not to like?

Well, the issue here is whether the ruling class's sense of solidarity is stronger than its greed. The wealthy have historically oscillated between real solidarity (think of the ultrawealthy lobbying to support bipartisan votes for tax cuts and bailouts) and "war of all against all" (as when wealthy colonizers dragged their countries into WWI after the supply of countries to steal ran out).

After all, the reason companies engage in the scams that shorts reveal is that they are profitable. "Behind every great fortune is a great crime," and that's just great. You don't win the game when you get into heaven, you win it when you get into the Forbes Rich List.

Take monopolies: investors like the upside of backing an upstart company that gobbles up some staid industry's margins – Amazon vs publishing, say, or Uber vs taxis. But while there's a lot of upside in that move, there's also a lot of risk: most companies that set out to "disrupt" an industry sink, taking their investors' capital down with them.

Contrast that with monopolies: backing a company that merges with its rivals and buys every small company that might someday grow large is a sure thing. Shriven of "wasteful competition," a company can lower quality, raise prices, capture its regulators, screw its workers and suppliers and laugh all the way to Davos. A big enough company can ignore the complaints of those workers, customers and regulators. They're not just too big to fail. They're not just too big to jail. They're too big to care:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

Would-be monopolists are stuck in a high-stakes Prisoner's Dilemma. If they cooperate, they can screw over everyone else and get unimaginably rich. But if one party defects, they can raid the monopolist's margins, short its stock, and snitch to its regulators.

It's true that there's a clear incentive for hedge-fund managers to fund investigative journalism into other hedge-fund managers' portfolio companies. But it would be even more profitable for both of those hedgies to join forces and collude to screw the rest of us over. So long as they mistrust each other, we might see some benefit from that adversarial relationship. But the point of the 0.1% is that there aren't very many of them. The Aspen Institute can rent a hall that will hold an appreciable fraction of that crowd. They buy their private jets and bespoke suits and powdered rhino horn from the same exclusive sellers. Their kids go to the same elite schools. They know each other, and they have every opportunity to get drunk together at a charity ball or a society wedding and cook up a plan to join forces.

This is the problem at the core of "mechanism design" grounded in "rational self-interest." If you try to create a system where people do the right thing because they're selfish assholes, you normalize being a selfish asshole. Eventually, the selfish assholes form a cozy little League of Selfish Assholes and turn on the rest of us.

Appeals to morality don't work on unethical people, but appeals to immorality crowds out ethics. Take the ancient split between "free software" (software that is designed to maximize the freedom of the people who use it) and "open source software" (identical to free software, but promoted as a better way to make robust code through transparency and peer review).

Over the years, open source – an appeal to your own selfish need for better code – triumphed over free software, and its appeal to the ethics of a world of "software freedom." But it turns out that while the difference between "open" and "free" was once mere semantics, it's fully possible to decouple the two. Today, we have lots of "open source": you can see the code that Google, Microsoft, Apple and Facebook uses, and even contribute your labor to it for free. But you can't actually decide how the software you write works, because it all takes a loop through Google, Microsoft, Apple or Facebook's servers, and only those trillion-dollar tech monopolists have the software freedom to determine how those servers work:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/04/which-side-are-you-on/#tivoization-and-beyond

That's ruling class solidarity. The Big Tech firms have hidden a myriad of sins beneath their bafflegab and balance-sheets. These (as yet) undiscovered scams constitute a "bezzle," which JK Galbraith defined as "the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it."

The purpose of Hunterbrook is to discover and destroy bezzles, hastening the moment of realization that the wealth we all feel in a world of seemingly orderly technology is really an illusion. Hunterbrook certainly has its pick of bezzles to choose from, because we are living in a Golden Age of the Bezzle.

Which is why I titled my new novel The Bezzle. It's a tale of high-tech finance scams, starring my two-fisted forensic accountant Marty Hench, and in this volume, Hench is called upon to unwind a predatory prison-tech scam that victimizes the most vulnerable people in America – our army of prisoners – and their families:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

The scheme I fictionalize in The Bezzle is very real. Prison-tech monopolists like Securus and Viapath bribe prison officials to abolish calls, in-person visits, mail and parcels, then they supply prisoners with "free" tablets where they pay hugely inflated rates to receive mail, speak to their families, and access ebooks, distance education and other electronic media:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/02/captive-customers/#guillotine-watch

But a group of activists have cornered these high-tech predators, run them to ground and driven them to the brink of extinction, and they've done it using "the master's tools" – with appeals to regulators and the finance sector itself.

Writing for The Appeal, Dana Floberg and Morgan Duckett describe the campaign they waged with Worth Rises to bankrupt the prison-tech sector:

https://theappeal.org/securus-bankruptcy-prison-telecom-industry/

Here's the headline figure: Securus is $1.8 billion in debt, and it has eight months to find a financier or it will go bust. What's more, all the creditors it might reasonably approach have rejected its overtures, and its bonds have been downrated to junk status. It's a dead duck.

Even better is how this happened. Securus's debt problems started with its acquisition, a leveraged buyout by Platinum Equity, who borrowed heavily against the firm and then looted it with bogus "management fees" that meant that the debt continued to grow, despite Securus's $700m in annual revenue from America's prisoners. Platinum was just the last in a long line of PE companies that loaded up Securus with debt and merged it with its competitors, who were also mortgaged to make profits for other private equity funds.

For years, Securus and Platinum were able to service their debt and roll it over when it came due. But after Worth Rises got NYC to pass a law making jail calls free, creditors started to back away from Securus. It's one thing for Securus to charge $18 for a local call from a prison when it's splitting the money with the city jail system. But when that $18 needs to be paid by the city, they're going to demand much lower prices. To make things worse for Securus, prison reformers got similar laws passed in San Francisco and in Connecticut.

Securus tried to outrun its problems by gobbling up one of its major rivals, Icsolutions, but Worth Rises and its coalition convinced regulators at the FCC to block the merger. Securus abandoned the deal:

https://worthrises.org/blogpost/securusmerger

Then, Worth Rises targeted Platinum Equity, going after the pension funds and other investors whose capital Platinum used to keep Securus going. The massive negative press campaign led to eight-figure disinvestments:

https://www.latimes.com/business/story/2019-09-05/la-fi-tom-gores-securus-prison-phone-mass-incarceration

Now, Securus's debt became "distressed," trading at $0.47 on the dollar. A brief, covid-fueled reprieve gave Securus a temporary lifeline, as prisoners' families were barred from in-person visits and had to pay Securus's rates to talk to their incarcerated loved ones. But after lockdown, Securus's troubles picked up right where they left off.

They targeted Platinum's founder, Tom Gores, who papered over his bloody fortune by styling himself as a philanthropist and sports-team owner. After a campaign by Worth Rises and Color of Change, Gores was kicked off the Los Angeles County Museum of Art board. When Gores tried to flip Securus to a SPAC – the same scam Trump pulled with Truth Social – the negative publicity about Securus's unsound morals and financials killed the deal:

https://twitter.com/WorthRises/status/1578034977828384769

Meanwhile, more states and cities are making prisoners' communications free, further worsening Securus's finances:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

Congress passed the Martha Wright-Reed Just and Reasonable Communications Act, giving the FCC the power to regulate the price of federal prisoners' communications. Securus's debt prices tumbled further:

https://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/117/s1541

Securus's debts were coming due: it owes $1.3b in 2024, and hundreds of millions more in 2025. Platinum has promised a $400m cash infusion, but that didn't sway S&P Global, a bond-rating agency that re-rated Securus's bonds as "CCC" (compare with "AAA"). Moody's concurred. Now, Securus is stuck selling junk-bonds:

https://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/117/s1541

The company's creditors have given Securus an eight-month runway to find a new lender before they force it into bankruptcy. The company's debt is trading at $0.08 on the dollar.

Securus's major competitor is Viapath (prison tech is a duopoly). Viapath is also debt-burdened and desperate, thanks to a parallel campaign by Worth Rises, and has tried all of Securus's tricks, and failed:

https://pestakeholder.org/news/american-securities-fails-to-sell-prison-telecom-company-viapath/

Viapath's debts are due next year, and if Securus tanks, no one in their right mind will give Viapath a dime. They're the walking dead.

Worth Rise's brilliant guerrilla warfare against prison-tech and its private equity backers are a master class in using the master's tools to dismantle the master's house. The finance sector isn't a friend of justice or working people, but sometimes it can be used tactically against financialization itself. To paraphrase MLK, "finance can't make a corporation love you, but it can stop a corporation from destroying you."

Yes, the ruling class finds solidarity at the most unexpected moments, and yes, it's easy for appeals to greed to institutionalize greediness. But whether it's funding unbezzling journalism through short selling, or freeing prisons by brandishing their cooked balance-sheets in the faces of bond-rating agencies, there's a lot of good we can do on the way to dismantling the system.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/08/money-talks/#bullshit-walks

Image: KMJ (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Boerse_01_KMJ.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

[hgfictionwriter]

Revelations: Part Three

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: If you are going to be with Jessie, then you need to accept that her daughter - and this ex - are now a part of her life. You meet them for the first time and try to determine if this is something you can endure.

Warnings: Angst. Language

A/N: Rest of series is here.

Jessie's phone lit up as a text came in and your eye was immediately drawn to it. While she had kept her phone on her at all times the past few weeks, she now kept it out in the open - perhaps some unspoken gesture to show that she had nothing further to hide.

Still, seeing Sara's name come up on her phone sent a sharp pain through your chest.

Jessie cleared her throat uncomfortably and shot you a fleeting look as she leaned forward on the couch to grab it. She opened the message in such a way that you could easily see it if you so chose to read it.

It was upsetting one way or another for you, so you might as well know exactly what was being discussed. You feigned indifference, pretending to continue watching TV, but you fully read the message.

"Hi. There's a fair this weekend with kids entertainment and stuff. I was thinking of taking Zoie. Do you want to come?"

"And, if you think Y/N is ready or wants to come, you can bring her and she can meet Zoie."

"I know she just found out and you said she's struggling a bit, but I think it's okay for her to meet Zoie at this point. Just let me know and I'll tell Zoie she's going to meet Y/N."

Jessie fidgeted as she read the message and clicked her screen off hurriedly and set the phone back down on the coffee table. You scoffed bitterly.

"Oh good. You've been talking to her about me behind my back. That's amazing, Jess," you said with a false smile and an empty laugh. "And so good to know I have permission to show up."

Jessie took a steadying breath and turned to you with a pleading look.

"I know that looks bad," she said. You sat back and gave her an even stare, inviting her to offer an explanation. She sighed heavily. "I mean, it's a lot for a young kid to suddenly meet this parent she didn't know existed and then to add another person to the mix right away, so..."

Your teeth clenched together. Though the logic stood, what spoke louder to you, whether she was saying it explicitly or not, was her defending this woman over you. It was your worst fears about this whole situation coming true.

She mattered more than you. You were an outsider.

You clicked your tongue as your anger and resentment - things you'd tried to cap since this all came to light - began to froth and boil over.

"Well forgive me for not knowing how to navigate this and knowing what's fair and right. I can't say that I've ever encountered this," you said curtly. "Everything's just so fucking complicated now."

"I know," she agreed with a heavy sigh.

Her reaction did nothing to satiate you. Instead, your frustration with everything - with her; with her choices - continued to amplify. Accusations that had flit about in your mind now bled out onto your tongue.

"Well maybe you shouldn't have been so fucking stupid."

Your words hung in the air.

"I'm sorry," she said tentatively after a beat. "I basically just told her that you knew now and-"

"That's not what I'm talking about!" You exclaimed and she was silenced into submission. "I'm talking about this whole fucking situation!"

She sat meekly, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. Your chest felt tight and tears began to burn behind your eyes. You stared hard at her, silently challenging her to offer a rebuttal, some consolation, anything, but she sat wordlessly and eventually your face screwed up with grief.

"I'm so fucking mad at you," you cried. You wanted to spit the words, show how upset and outraged you were, but instead your voice was shaky and small. You sniffled. "I know you didn't mean for this to happen. I know you don't want to hurt me. But everything's fucking different now. Everything I had planned - we had planned - it might as well not exist anymore.

"I'm so upset, and this all your fault. You didn't even care about this girl! And you got her fucking pregnant? Are you stupid?! What's wrong with you!"

Jessie winced at your reproach. Your shoulders hitched with a suppressed sob while you stared her down. She quietly took your beratement.

"I know you know how to use a fucking condom. You haven't even cummed inside me for God's sake. But you'll risk fucking her? Was her pussy that fucking good?! What the FUCK, Jessie! Now you've ruined both our lives!"

The words were out of your mouth long before your mind could properly process - and vet - them.

She sat up straight, her eyes shimmering with tears now as she looked at you.

"I know I fucked up," she said with a strangled voice. "I know it was stupid. And irresponsible. I had one stupid moment where I wasn't The Responsible One, The Mature One - always worried about the future. I was just having fun. And yes, yes," her voice broke, "now there are consequences. And I'm so sorry they're affecting you. But," she swallowed hard, "they've affected me too, you know. And, yes, it's my fault, but the future - as we both planned it - I've had to grieve it, too. And I feel so fucking horrible for doing this to us, but, if you give it space, there's good here. I've ruined your life? It's different, but it's not ruined."

She gave a laugh that was sad and bewildered all at the same time.

"When I found out, I thought the same. I was beside myself and terrified. I was just praying that this would all go away. So much regret. But once I met Zoie?" Jessie's mannerisms changed, her expression grew lighter and softer. "I didn't feel that way anymore. How could I look at her and feel like my life is ruined? And I'm really hopeful that you'll feel similar when you meet her."

Anger and resentment still swirled inside your chest. Now she was trying to make you feel like a bad person? Probably not her intention, but it felt like a criticism. You blinked through your tears.

"I'm glad you can feel that way," you told Jessie, an edge in your voice. "I don't know how I'll feel. All I know is that right now, it all feels so unfair." Your lip trembled and you hated that you couldn't control it. "And it feels like you've left me behind." More tears fell and you hugged yourself tightly. "It feels like you have a whole new life and you built it entirely without me. I just blinked and you're gone. And now it's on me to try to catch up."

"Baby," Jessie said with a mix of love and regret as she pulled you into a hug. You resisted momentarily before allowing her to embrace you. Your emotional resolved failed as well and you began to sob in her arms. She rubbed your back and held you tightly while she kissed your head. "That's not the case at all. And I'm so, so sorry that I've made you feel that way. I know it's been so much, but you are the most important person to me.-"

Lies. You couldn't be anymore.

"-I want you by my side. There's no one else I want to build a life with. And I'm sorry that I've made it feel otherwise. I love you so much."

Your body shook as she hugged you. There was so much to mourn, but most prominent right now was this realization that this was the first period in your whole relationship where you haven’t felt content in her arms; where she wasn't the solution. Your safety.

You felt conflicted. A large part of you still desperately wanted her. You still loved her to your core. But part of you was desperate to escape.

"I don't need to go this weekend," Jessie said softly as she kissed your head.

Your stomach twisted in knots.

If you wanted a future with Jessie, you needed to get onboard. You couldn't stand on the sidelines. You couldn't hold her back. She was never yours alone, a thing to possess and keep, and this was a good reminder of that.

You had to integrate yourself and be a part of this, as uncomfortable and intimidating as it felt. Maybe things would be easier if you just dove head first.

You relented.

"Let's go."

She pulled back slowly to eye you skeptically. She tucked your hair behind your ear. "We really don't have to," she assured you. "I don't want to rush you. There's plenty of time."

"I want to meet her," you affirmed.

Jessie continued to study you, but her face slowly lit up and she laughed quietly. "Thank you. Honestly. This means so much. I really think you'll fall in love with her. I want us to do this together." She tamped her burgeoning excitement and spoke in earnest. "You sure? Because I also fully understand if you're not at this point yet."

You didn't break your gaze.

"I'm fine, Jess. I'll be okay."

----

"Are you ready?"

You weren't.

"Yeah," you said with as reassuring a smile as you could conjure.

"I love you more than anything. You know that right?" Jessie said as she leaned over the center console in your car and gave you a sweet kiss. You nodded. "Okay," she said softly as she grabbed the keys. "And nudge me and text me if you get overwhelmed and want to leave at any point. Okay?"

"Yes," you breathed as patiently as you could. Her offer was considerate, but it seemed to just emphasize that you were fragile and that - as she'd told her ex - you were struggling. You'd be damned if you gave an admission of weakness today.

You two got out of the car and Jessie held your hand as you made your way to the entrance of the pop-up fair. You looked idly around and tried to take deep, but subtle breaths, as your heart steadily began to pound louder and faster in your chest.

You watched Jessie out of the corner of your eye and saw when a small smile crossed her face. She began to wave.

You followed her gaze to see a woman and a young child standing alongside the path. Your eyes fell to who must've been Sara. She was unfortunately beautiful and it made your insides churn. Between Jessie's good looks and this woman's, no wonder Zoie was so cute.

You hated it. And you hated yourself for even thinking it.

Soon your eyes fell to Zoie. She smiled ear to ear upon seeing Jessie and looked up to Sara for silent permission before running towards Jessie.

You made sure to smile, but beyond that you weren't really aware of what you were doing or how you were acting. You were so transfixed on how Jessie shot you a quick smile and squeezed your hand before releasing you and embracing Zoie, lifting her up with an exaggerated groan and placing her on her hip.

"Oh my gosh, are you taller than last week? You seem it," Jessie joked as she kissed Zoie's cheek, pulling a laugh out of the little girl. "You must've been eating your veggies all week, then."

"Ew," Zoie laughed as she turned back to Sara.

"She hasn't been so bad," Sara said conspiratorially as she approached, pinching Zoie's cheek playfully as she spoke to her daughter. "Hey honey? Not since I told you you need to eat your veggies if you want to be big and strong like mama Jessie."

You almost fucking choked.

'Mama'? 'Mama Jessie'? Jessie had severely neglected to tell you she held such titles already and it made you sick to your stomach.

"Hey, Zo, I have someone that I'm really excited for you to meet," Jessie cut in with a broad smile as she angled her body towards you. "Zoie, this is my fiancée, Y/N."

You tried to rally and refocus. You smiled and gave her a wave.

"Hi Zoie, it's so nice to meet you," you greeted. She tucked her head into Jessie a bit and gave you a shy smile and raised her hand in a small wave. "I really like your shirt," you offered warmly as you pointed to it. She laughed shyly, her cheeks growing pink so much like Jessie's would.

"Oh yeah, cute puppies," Jessie agreed as she gave a gentle poke on the cartoon image on her daughter's shirt.

"Mommy got it for me yesterday because she said we can't have a real puppy," Zoie explained with a bit of a pout.

"Yeah?" Jessie laughed. "Were you asking for one?"

"Our neighbour got a new puppy and I got to play with him. I really want one," she answered.

"Well, listen to your mom for now. A puppy's a lot of responsibility. Maybe someday you can have one," Jessie replied.

'Mom'. When Jessie said that to her kid, it was supposed to be about you. That was supposed to be your kid on her hip that she was looking at so adoringly. But it wasn't.

Your eyes flicked over to Sara who was laughing at the whole exchange and you just felt like your chest was turning inside out. You tried to ignore your pulse pounding in your head.

Zoie still looked disappointed, but less so and eventually hope filled her eyes.

"Can you get one? Then maybe that means I can play with it too," she asked Jessie with a grin. Jessie laughed and looked at you; you immediately caught yourself and slapped a smile on your face.

"I'm afraid not," she replied, amused. "A puppy's too much responsibility even for us."

Zoie was watching you curiously now.

"I like your hair," she said quietly.

"Oh," you said in surprise, your hand coming up and tucking it behind your ear self-consciously. "Thank you. That's very kind of you. I bet you get compliments on your hair all the time. It's very nice." You steeled yourself. "Just like your mama's."

She giggled, burying herself further into Jessie's arms.

"She's been so excited to meet you," Sara said as she walked around and held out her hand with a smile. "I'm Sara. It's really nice to meet you."

You smiled at the woman who was stealing your future wife away from you. Someone who Jessie chose to fuck freely - recklessly, irresponsibly - and knocked up, forever skewing your paths forward.

You shook her hand.

"Hi. I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, too."

"So. Want to head in?" Jessie asked as she set Zoie down. The girl nodded enthusiastically. Jessie gave an exaggerated gesture of her head towards the gates. "Let's get going then."

Jessie looked at you, smiling affectionately as she took your hand. Still, you could see the way she keenly gauged you despite her easy going air. She was nervous about you. What you were thinking, what you were feeling.

Rightfully so. Because right now you just wanted to grab the keys out of her pocket and drive as far away from here as you could.

Instead, you held her hand and walked alongside her.

As the four of you explored the grounds and activities, it became obvious to you how comfortable the three of them were together. Sure, Sara and Jessie were a bit awkward, but much more comfortable than you'd expected. It had only been a couple of months, but the three of them - in your opinion - looked like an honest to God family.

And it fucking hurt.

You tried to stay engaged and to be open and positive, but you couldn't help but feel so...other. Like a spare. You felt out of place. Like you were intruding. It's like you were suddenly transplanted into another life or reality. This couldn't possibly be your life.

You could see how Jessie tried to involve you. You'd wondered if she'd behave differently with Sara there, but she didn't. She was affectionate and sweet and it was one small reprieve in this sea of hurt and uncertainty.

Hell, as much as you wanted to despise Sara, you couldn't deny she was open and inviting towards you.

Although, you guess you'd be feeling pretty confident too if you swooped in and usurped a five-year relationship.

Despite your efforts, a cloud of realization fell further and further over you that this was some kind of newly restored natural order. If Sara had realized sooner that she was pregnant, maybe Jessie wouldn't have gone to London. Or even if she went, maybe Sara would've gone with her and, maybe, in time, they would've fallen in love.

Regardless, this - two parents enjoying a local fair with their kid - is exactly what their life would've been. You, on the other hand, wouldn't be here.

The only reason you were in Portland was because of Jessie. Because she came to London you met and fell in love. The way your love had grown and how your relationship has deepened, it felt too good to be true.

Well. Maybe it was. Maybe it was never truly meant to be.

At some point, Sara was in the washroom and Jessie was retrieving an order of food from a kiosk, leaving you and Zoie sitting together, holding the table.

"Do you have kids?" Zoie asked as she swung her legs back and forth on the bench seat. You blinked momentarily in confusion, but smiled out of habit.

"Me? No," you said, hating how your tone dipped in disappointment. You cleared your throat. "No kids." Zoie seemed to contemplate this.

"Okay. Mommy said you didn't. So, I guess I don't have any siblings. But I didn't think I had a mama and now I do. But if you and mama have a kid then I'll have a sister or brother, right?" She asked, looking up at you with her big, dark eyes. You forced yourself to maintain your smile and banish any waves of sadness that threatened you.

"That's right, sweetie," you said softly. She smiled quietly.

"I think I'd really like to have a little brother or sister someday."

Your smile cracked momentarily and you found yourself looking over your shoulder to seek out Jessie. You found her easily; you always did. But when you'd normally smile subconsciously just at the mere sighting of her, now your stomach felt heavy with uncertainty.

You smiled at Zoie again.

"We'll see, I guess."

It felt like a lie. Jessie and you had always agreed that you'd have kids together someday, but it felt like that had been ripped out from beneath your feet. It was like she'd jumped ahead, leagues ahead of you and you were now all alone with this empty dream.

In time, you and Jessie bid Sara and Zoie goodbye, the little girl even giving you a quick hug around your legs before returning to her mother's side.

Jessie tried valiantly to not push too much on the drive home, but she couldn't hide her keen interest in deciphering your takeaways and feelings. She was so hopeful and earnest and, well, you felt ashamed for being anything less than happy.

Zoie was legitimately sweet and so cute. She was lovely. And above all, was clearly thrilled to have a new parent in her life. Who wouldn't be thrilled to have Jessie in their life?

And try as you might to detest Sara, there was nothing outwardly horrible about her. You know, other than she held the space and role in Jessie's life that should've been yours. You had to fend off a pang of jealousy any time she smiled and laughed with Jessie over Zoie.

Truth was, you felt conflicted. Out of sorts. It wasn't that you didn't like Zoie. You did. It was just...everything. And at some point, Jessie's eagerness felt oppressive and smothering. Like today was supposed to be some magical moment that would resolve and rectify everything. It felt like you weren't allowed to still feel upset.

Eventually, your lack of enthusiastic validation got to her and soon you were on the couch with a show on, but with neither of you paying attention. Now you were both sullen and withdrawn.

Jessie fidgeted on the couch and was texting rapidly back and forth with someone. You could see out of the corner of your eye it was Janine. You couldn't help yourself.

"Talking about me?" You challenged.

Jessie took a calming breath and gave you a slow stare.

"Go on. Tell me what you're saying to her about me," you pushed, voice prim and hoity.

She exhaled. "I'm just telling her how the day went."

You chuckled dryly. "I bet your recollection to her is different than what you told me," you said with a grin that didn't reach your eyes.

"Why are you being like this?" Jessie asked, frustration creeping into her voice.

"I just want to know what you really thought," you carried on undeterred. You held out your hand for her phone. "Let's see."

You never demanded things like this before. You didn't used to be distrustful or hostile either. But, everything was different now.

"Oh my God," she muttered irritably under her breath as she discretely rolled her eyes and pushed her phone into your hand rather firmly. She sank deeper into the couch and crossed her arms. "Go ahead," she said in a flat tone.

You smirked smugly, though you felt unhappy. You scrolled up to the start of their conversation and took a deep breath as you started to read.

While you felt self-righteous moments before, as you read through their conversation, that too-familiar pit in your stomach grew heavier.

You weren't sure why you were expecting to see negative messages from Jessie about you - she'd never said bad things about you before. And sure enough, she placed no blame on you. Instead, you saw her talk about how great you were today. How sweet you were to Zoie. That Zoie was shy at first, but took a liking to you and even asked her when she could come visit you two at the apartment.

Instead, you saw her express disappointment in herself because despite all of that, you were hurting. She just couldn't seem to manage to do anything other than hurt you lately. Her disappointment in how she failed to navigate this better. To make it easier for you.

Then, worse, her own upset. That she felt helpless in a way. She told Janine how you said she ruined your life, and when she sees you hurting she can't help but wonder if maybe she did. It's difficult and confusing hating herself for that, but at the same time loving Zoie and hating feeling like she needs to apologize for having her. She didn't want to feel guilty or ashamed of having her. It felt like she needed to apologize for Zoie's existence, but she doesn't want to do that. And she can't tell you any of this because you've already supported her so much and made so many concessions for her. You had enough to worry about and to manage. You didn't need to worry about her too.

You looked over at her with misty eyes.

"You didn't ruin my life, Jess," you said quietly.

She looked at you, but didn't respond. You carried on.

"And you shouldn't feel guilty or ashamed of Zoie. She doesn't deserve that at all," you added. Jessie simply gave a nod of acceptance.

"I'm angry about things and I'm hurt, but, none of this is directed at her. Please. It's just been...a lot for me to adjust to."

"I know, baby," Jessie said as she took your hand and kissed the back of it. "I appreciate everything you're doing more than you'll ever know."

A heavy silence fell over you two. Jessie's head was down and she stroked the back of your hand as she held it in both of hers. When she spoke, her voice was small and she was too afraid to meet your gaze.

"Do you still love me?"

Love wasn't the question. Love wasn't the issue. The question was, is love enough? And to that, you didn't know the answer.

Still. You squeezed her hand.

"Of course."

A/N: Tag request - @valuyhh

[realtapiocafan]

The way people talk about black NFL players always has me side eying 😭😭😭 some of the comments I’ve seen about Ja’marr today have been crazy

Ok, incoming rant. Please do not read if you're uncomfortable with discussions of racism

Wow, I was just looking in the insta comments of ja'marr signing shit for fans and omfg, i couldn't believe my eyes. 'Show a little excitement' 'look like you care a lil' 'don't look away while you're shaking someone's hand' well what if i shake in RAGE. like he stopped and signed the jersey and he took a picture, what. 'smile' GIRL THE CAMERA ISN'T EVEN POINTED AT HIM. and like you compare that shit to joe signing shit yesterday (in which joe didn't smile either) and it's all 'oh thats my qb' 'making a diff in the young generation' 'so compassionate'. The sheer difference in perception is just... 💔

The thing is: there's a lot of racism in the NFL.

Like, just as a whole, we're watching a predominately black population fight each other for our entertainment. Yes, NFL athletes get paid, but for the longest time, the main argument for NIL was that colleges were benefitting from the free 'labor' of student-athletes, who were basically putting their bodies and futures on the line (it's been proven you can get CTE from even youth football which. yikes).

The most prominent example, and the one that the media probably talks about the most, is coaches. Don't get me wrong, the NFL has gotten a hell lot better with coaches. Like a couple of years, there was just one black head coach (which is another rant bc the racial makeup of the league was even more skewed in past years), and this year there was nine. So it's... progress? The thing is: I get the Rooney rule, I do. But interviewing for a job that you know you aren't getting... I don't know. Considering someone for an interview and considering someone for a job are two entirely different things. I don't know how to fix it, it's kind of a microcosm of the whole DEI debate. On one hand, African Americans are at a historical and thereby structural disadvantage, but teams are still gonna hire who they think is best (and surely it's just a coincidence that 'who they think is best' is white). Black coaches can't just be as good as their white peers - to get hired, they have to be better.

And there's just a lot of casual racism. There's a common myth that black athletes tend to be faster. No one likes to acknowledge it, but it's basically entrenched into our society. And that myth permeates through the NFL and football in general. We see it in the different racial makeup of positions, in the 'two-way' threat of black qbs, in how replaceable rbs are seen as, in how wrs are seen as 'prima donnas' and 'divas'.

There's a reason why you never see black centers and we're only recently seeing black qbs. Those are the 'thinking' positions, the leadership positions, arguably the most important positions. And there's a reason why so many WRs and corners are black. Those are the 'athletic' positions. (There's also the fact that wide receivers and corners are positions far more prone to injury than qbs or centers or kickers but that deserves its own rant).

In large part, the racial segregation can be traced to youth/college football, where black players are predominately pushed to the athletic positions. Black players are perfectly able to play qb thank you very much -it's that their coaches and agents and whoever switch them to WR or corner, because of the perceived 'better athleticism'. That's the casual racism I'm referring to, the generalization just based on skin color.

There are so many stories about how people were trying to convince Lamar to become a RB -and that's still a common insult for Lamar ('oh he's just a glorified RB'). And that's basically reducing Lamar to just his athleticism (aka his 'natural talents'), completely ignoring the FACT that he's an elite passer. Like fuck right off with the 'he's not intelligent enough to pass' argument (which some people still say). The discourse around black quarterbacks, as a whole, is still very much centered on 'oh it's just their athleticism', always praising their 'two-way threat' and that just. Ugh.

And also running backs! The current devaluation of running backs, considering that most rbs are black... there's something disturbing about just how much of the discourse around rbs is centered around how easily they can be replaced. How they're seen as commodities and things, rather than people. This can be extended to all players, because of how profit-oriented the NFL is, but it's especially applicable to rbs and the fact that most rbs are black, cannot be ignored.

Back to WRs. The media loves to just toss the label of 'diva' on wide receivers. And like those hand-wavy comments, 'oh that's just the diva gene'... Again. Most WRs are black. And simply calling them dramatic for no reason, just based on their position ... it makes me very uncomfortable. Racism isn't about calling people slurs, it's stereotyping a whole group of people. You can say that it might not be a harmful stereotype, but is accusing black people of needlessly throwing tantrums, really harmless? Especially in this case, there's a long very painful history of accusing black people of overreacting. So when people call Ja'Marr a diva for wanting to be paid his worth, yea, I do think there's racism there. It's not overreacting to want to get what you deserve and the discussions that he should accept less than what he's worth, just because the (white) front office was too stupid -god, it makes me furious.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

What do you think about Equius and Eridan's ship? I think this is a pretty entertaining idea (I'm aware that they don't really tolerate each other, but maybe they could share their problems with each other and help each other?)

I won't tell people what they should and shouldn't ship, but it's unsupported by canon & I personally don't think they'd be a good fit for each other, because Equius is kind of a prude who's genuinely made uncomfortable by Eridan's incredibly strong emotional neediness, and Eridan needs attention from his friends and especially romantic partners, which Equius isn't really equipped to provide. But again, if you like it, don't let me stop you!

Uhhh warnings for talking about sexual stuff because unfortunately Equius is just kind of Like That and you can't really discuss him in good faith without getting into it.

Basically, Equius's deal is that he's kind of sheltered. His specific position in the hemocaste means he gets to avoid a lot of the awful shit the other highbloods have to deal with, while still being high enough that he gets to avoid lowblood problems entirely. He doesn't have to worry about being culled or even of having to cull others - at least, not until adulthood - to the point where he's in a position to object to Nepeta killing wild animals. The murder of other real, thinking, breathing people seems like a distant problem for future Equius - not a tangible reality quickly catching up to him.

CT: D --> You e%terminate beautiful, innocent creatures by the hundreds CT: D --> I can't condone such wretched behavior CT: D --> Beasts are meant to be 100ked upon with adoration AC: :33 < but AC: :33 < i eat them! AC: :33 < i dont kill anything i dont eat, that would be mean CT: D --> I guess that's basically acceptable in principle, but I still find it a bit unsavory

He knows that Alternia is dangerous, and that bad, horrible things happen to other people (I mean, he's neighbors with Vriska lmao), but he has the privilege of simply electing not to participate, and that's the solution he keeps presenting to Nepeta: don't talk to the lowbloods, because they'll harm you, don't talk to the highbloods, because they'll harm you, and don't play their dangerous games. I mean, it works for him!

CT: D --> The thought of you fraternizing with and abetting those stink-b100ded h001igans strikes me as scandal beyond measure CT: D --> I'm afraid you're too delicate to withstand that sort of corruption

EQUIUS: D --> Yes, which is among the reasons why I must make your prote%ion a high priority EQUIUS: D --> The highb100d has joined a stable of those who are becoming increasingly volatile and murderous as we remain stranded in this laboratory EQUIUS: D --> I command you to steer clear of them, do you understand

He has a kindly lusus who takes very good care of him, met his soulmate very early on, has a neighbor/friend he gets along with pretty well, and gets to spend basically all of his free time pursuing his hobbies and interests with no pressing duties or responsibilities to distract him. As far as is possible on Alternia, he's lived a charmed and peaceful life.

Now, although I'm going to make the caveat early that he's not actually that casteist, Equius is still the most casteist member on the team, short of post-corruption!Gamzee. The fact that he's sheltered is one of the primary reasons for this: he's never had a reason to question casteism, because casteism has always been pretty correct in his book, and he's never had the need nor impetus to question it any further than that. After all, lowbloods DO wind up getting themselves into horrible situations, and highbloods DO tend to be murderous, dangerous assholes. This is just The Way Things Are, right?

For more specific examples, the Team Charge debacle - which Equius had to know about because he's the one who patched Vriska up afterwards - ended with Tavros unable to walk and Aradia "broken" (most of the team didn't know she was dead until they entered the game; Terezi tells Vriska she thinks "whatever Vriska did to her" must've broken her brain somehow since she was never the same since). Meanwhile, the two highbloods really only got injured by each other. In Equius's eyes, this would've reinforced his views: lowbloods live dangerous lives wrought by their inherent degeneracy, and always suffer worse for it, while highbloods are unstable and violent, but ultimately faultless and unpunishable except by each other.

He also - again - is Vriska's neighbor, and Vriska's psionics work best on lowbloods, so that's the vast majority of who she brings in for her lusus to eat. The two most crass people on the team are also Karkat and Sollux - the latter of which is very much a lowblood, while the former regularly throws himself in with the "gutter bloods"; the fact that they swear and make sex jokes genuinely freaks Equius out, since he's a sheltered little noble boy who refuses to say cuss words.

EQUIUS: D --> For pete's goodfornothing di%ie whistling SA%ES, Nepeta

So with Equius, we see how unexamined and uninterrogated privilege and sheltering can lead to genuinely harmful beliefs. Equius's feelings come from a good place: he sees all these poor lowbloods dying and suffering, and all these high bloods doing horrific, scary shit, and he instinctively knows that something is wrong and the world they live in is dangerous - or else he wouldn't be trying to protect Nepeta from it. He knows that because she's lower than he is on the hemospectrum, she's much more at risk than he is of something terrible happening to her, so as much as possible, he tries to keep her away from engaging with the rest of society.

CT: D --> Well, green b100d is ok, but it's not great CT: D --> But that's why you're lucky to have me to 100k out for you CT: D --> Because you don't know better, and you can't fight the role the mother had in store for you

But because he's had no reason to challenge or question the casteist beliefs he was taught, the horrific stuff he witnesses actually reinforces them. In an attempt to make sense out of the terrible world he lives in, he falls back on the easy answers, the ones he's been repeatedly told since he was a child: lowbloods suffer because they are inherently "worse" than highbloods, and highbloods are inherently "better," so they're allowed to indulge all their most violent and horrific impulses and it's not actually a problem. He's comfortable with his reality; why isn't everybody else?

So um, that brings us to the sex stuff. Basically, because Equius is so sheltered, he doesn't realize that he has a massive BDSM kink, and kind of a voyeurism kink, and that a lot of the gratification and pleasure he feels from indulging in them are... um......... "that kind" of gratification and pleasure. To be honest, I think if someone genuinely levelled with him and pointed it out, he'd have a mental breakdown over it. Because, like, at his core, Equius is a polite, kind, helpful guy. There's a reason he listens to Karkat same as the rest of the team, why he helps with Tavros's robot legs, why Nepeta even likes him so much. A lot of his worst aspects just stem from the fact that he's conflating his desire to be stepped on with the hemocaste being an inescapable, correct reality.

He's basically this post lol:

So about specifically him and Eridan, like. We actually have Equius's outright stated opinion on Eridan.

CG: YOU ARE SUCH AN IDIOT, I DON'T GET IT CG: YOU KISS THE GROUND THIS LUNATIC WALKS ON BECAUSE HE HAS PURPLE BLOOD CG: BUT THAT DOESN'T STOP YOU FROM RIPPING ON ERIDAN, I KNOW FOR A FACT YOU DON'T LIKE HIM CG: AND HIS BLOOD IS EVEN PURPLIER, ISN'T IT? CT: D --> Yes CT: D --> That's different CT: D --> He is a sea dweller CT: D --> Our feud is codified in tradition CT: D --> Neigh, we are obligated to be at odds CT: D --> It's dignified ... CG: THE POINT IS, IF YOU SEE HIM, WOULD YOU MIND SNAPPING HIS STUPID WAND IN HALF OR SOMETHING? CG: AND THEN CHOKE HIM TO DEATH WITH HIS OWN SHITTY PRETENTIOUS SCARF. CT: D --> Do I really have to CG: GOD, WHAT IS THE PROBLEM NOW? CT: D --> I'd prefer not to interact with him CG: WHY CT: D --> It's primarily that his advances make me uncomfortable

See, Eridan... is not really Equius's type. And I can see why! Equius places a lot of importance on decorum and a100fness. Here's him basically telling Gamzee about why he's attracted to Gamzee and Aradia:

CT: D --> See, that's what I mean CT: D --> How is it possible for one of your distin%ion to be so ignorant CT: D --> And loathesome CT: D --> Whereas CT: D --> A member of the most abject, verminous b100dline of all CT: D --> Can conduct herself with such grace and possess nothing but admirable mannerisms CT: D --> I find these striking ju%tapositions perple%ing, and I confess strangely into%icating

He hates that Gamzee acts dumb and friendly, and wants him to be mean and commanding - and is probably lowkey picking up on the fact that Gamzee DOES have that within him, although he's hiding it. At the same time, he's weirdly attracted to how Aradia is aloof, intelligent, and strong-willed, despite being the lowest possible caste. Basically, Equius wants a pretty classically cultured dom to put him in his place - bonus points if caste-play is involved, whether it's a higher caste acting in accordance to their position on the spectrum, or a lower caste degrading him to a point below themselves.

So, initially, you'd think that Eridan would actually be his ideal for such a position, land dweller/sea dweller feud notwithstanding. After all, Eridan is all about acting like a traditional sea dweller, talking up his nobility and how much better he is than the lower castes, wanting the land dwellers dead/in their place, etc. etc.

But that's where we hit a snag. Eridan is pretending. He's pretending in the opposite direction of Gamzee, in fact. Where Gamzee is genuinely quite mean and nasty, but masking that in an attempt to get along better with his friends, Eridan is actually pretty - well, "nice" is the wrong word, but he's desperately presenting himself as meaner and more casteist than he actually is.

Equius wants to be effortlessly dominated, but Eridan puts in 110% at all times. Equius wants someone who upholds the caste system, and Eridan is actually totally indiscriminate when hitting on people because he actually doesn't give a shit about class differences. Equius wants someone who commands respect, but Eridan is kind of the team laughingstock. Also Eridan swears in proportion to his dialogue second only to Karkat.

Eridan's emotional desperation, disregard for the caste system, and cringefail antics are all massive turnoffs for Equius, and in a lot of ways, genuinely kind of scare him. I mean, again, Equius is a sheltered little noble boy who's made uncomfortable by cussing or killing animals for meat - and here's Eridan, one of the team's biggest murderers, genuinely obsessed with death and genocide, mouth of a sailor, willing to shoot his shot with anyone on the hemospectrum. Equius gets along better with Karkat, and Karkat's not even ON the hemospectrum.

It wouldn't even be pitch or ashen hatred to me, because Equius doesn't object to Eridan, morally or ethically - he just finds Eridan uncomfortable to be around, and prefers not to interact with him if he can help it. And that's really bad for Eridan, because Eridan's basically a huge emotional wreck and has a pretty fundamental need for emotional support and attention from his romantic partners - I've touched on it before, I think when I talked about him and Tavros, but Eridan has a genuine anxiety attack when Vriska accidentally ghosts him (because she's mercy killing her lusus), and I really don't think it would be good for him if he were to become emotionally attached to the guy whose whole Thing is standing in the background and watching without interacting.

As for discussing their problems... like, that's kind of the thing? They don't actually have overlapping problems. Eridan's issues primarily stem from the pressures his position on the hemocaste have placed on him, whereas Equius has actually actively benefited from and enjoyed his position in that class structure. Like, even if they tried to share notes on their respective character arcs about shirking the shitty things Alternia imposed on them, it'd be like,

EQUIUS: D--> Did you know that one's position in the hemospe%rum has little to no bearing on their moral integrity or worth as a person ERIDAN: are you a fuckin idiot eq

ERIDAN: guess all that obsessin ovver murder wwas a huge fuckin wwaste ERIDAN: and didnt do me no good nor anybody else for that matter EQUIUS: D--> Well EQUIUS: D--> Yeah

Even if we try to bring in things that aren't strictly related to being a high blood and what that means on Alternia - like if we run with the idea that Eridan's lusus contributed to Eridan's shitty childhood - well, unfortunately, Equius can't relate. Aurthour was incredibly kind to Equius growing up and he loved Aurthour dearly. So on and so forth.

And, uh... this is kind of weird to say, but despite how forward Eridan is about romance, he's actually... kind of reserved, sexually? He doesn't crack sex jokes and his fixation on romantic relationships is more about the act of being in a relationship than about what they do in that relationship. His date ideas are pretty straightforward and traditional, because he tends to prioritize "doing a good job" and "living up to the standard" over how he actually feels or his own personal interests.

What I'm saying is, Equius's horniness would probably make Eridan uncomfortable. Especially before Equius realizes that he's just got massive kinks that he should probably keep under control - which is basically the entire comic - Equius tends to prioritize what they do in a relationship over the act of actually being in a relationship. In fact, he'd probably be just as happy to get domm'd by Gamzee or Aradia even if they weren't actually dating. That's a kind of freedom and trueness to one's desires that Eridan can't manage; moreover, because Eridan tends to prioritize "doing a good job", he's pretty willing to go along with whatever his partner wants - which, in Equius's case, means Eridan doing more of the thing that's actively harmed them both. And I just don't think that that'd be good for Eridan.

So, yeah, overall, not a good fit for each other, but again, don't let me stop you!

The most interesting arrangement of Eridan and Equius, to me personally, is the fact that I think Eridan and Nepeta would actually be pretty good friends once they started talking (and Eridan got a moirail). Nepeta is the Anti-Casteism troll, the only one to outright state that she believes blood color shouldn't matter, and Eridan's whole deal is being less casteist than he pretends to be, to the point of genuinely being the least casteist highblood. And they both RP and hunt for stuff.

However, if there's any example of "dangerous highblood" on the team before Gamzee snaps, it's Eridan, and Equius has pretty deep concern for Nepeta's safety, which actually sometimes comes at Nepeta's detriment. It wouldn't escalate to pitch or ashen, but I really like the idea of the two of them having an antagonistic relationship because Equius does NOT want Nepeta interacting with this insane murderer, while Eridan is like, bro, let the kitty cat cave shipper girl decide for herself, and Nepeta is like, why must boys fight.

[sneezypeasy]

Why I Deliberately Avoided the "Colonizer" Argument in my Zutara Thesis - and Why I'll Continue to Avoid it Forever

This is a question that occasionally comes up under my Zutara video essay, because somehow in 2 hours worth of content I still didn't manage to address everything (lol.) But this argument specifically is one I made a point of avoiding entirely, and there are some slightly complicated reasons behind that. I figure I'll write them all out here.

From a surface-level perspective, Zuko's whole arc, his raison d'etre, is to be a de-colonizer. Zuko's redemption arc is kinda all about being a de-colonizer, and his redemption arc is probably like the most talked about plot point of ATLA, so from a basic media literacy standpoint, the whole argument is unsound in the first place, and on that basis alone I find it childish to even entertain as an argument worth engaging with, to be honest.

(At least one person in my comments pointed out that if any ship's "political implications" are problematic in some way, it really ought to be Maiko, as Mai herself is never shown or suggested to be a strong candidate for being a de-colonizing co-ruler alongside Zuko. If anything her attitudes towards lording over servants/underlings would make her… a less than suitable choice for this role, but I digress.)

But the reason I avoided rebutting this particular argument in my video goes deeper than that. From what I've observed of fandom discourse, I find that the colonizer argument is usually an attempt to smear the ship as "problematic" - i.e., this ship is an immoral dynamic, which would make it problematic to depict as canon (and by extension, if you ship it regardless, you're probably problematic yourself.)

And here is where I end up taking a stand that differentiates me from the more authoritarian sectors of fandom.

I'm not here to be the fandom morality police. When it comes to lit crit, I'm really just here to talk about good vs. bad writing. (And when I say "good", I mean structurally sound, thematically cohesive, etc; works that are well-written - I don't mean works that are morally virtuous. More on this in a minute.) So the whole colonizer angle isn't something I'm interested in discussing, for the same reason that I actually avoided discussing Katara "mothering" Aang or the "problematic" aspects of the Kataang ship (such as how he kissed her twice without her consent). My whole entire sections on "Kataang bad" or "Maiko bad" in my 2 hour video was specifically, "how are they written in a way that did a disservice to the story", and "how making them false leads would have created valuable meaning". I deliberately avoided making an argument that consisted purely of, "here's how Kataang/Maiko toxic and Zutara wholesome, hence Zutara superiority, the end".

Why am I not willing to be the fandom morality police? Two reasons:

I don't really have a refined take on these subjects anyway. Unless a piece of literature or art happens to touch on a particular issue that resonates with me personally, the moral value of art is something that doesn't usually spark my interest, so I rarely have much to say on it to begin with. On the whole "colonizer ship" subject specifically, other people who have more passion and knowledge than me on the topic can (and have) put their arguments into words far better than I ever could. I'm more than happy to defer to their take(s), because honestly, they can do these subjects justice in a way I can't. Passing the mic over to someone else is the most responsible thing I can do here, lol. But more importantly:

I reject the conflation of literary merit with moral virtue. It is my opinion that a good story well-told is not always, and does not have to be, a story free from moral vices/questionable themes. In my opinion, there are good problematic stories and bad "pure" stories and literally everything in between. To go one step further, I believe that there are ways that a romance can come off "icky", and then there are ways that it might actually be bad for the story, and meming/shitposting aside, the fact that these two things don't always neatly align is not only a truth I recognise about art but also one of those truths that makes art incredibly interesting to me! So on the one hand, I don't think it is either fair or accurate to conflate literary "goodness" with moral "goodness". On a more serious note, I not only find this type of conflation unfair/inaccurate, I also find it potentially dangerous - and this is why I am really critical of this mindset beyond just disagreeing with it factually. What I see is that people who espouse this rhetoric tend to encourage (or even personally engage in) wilful blindness one way or the other, because ultimately, viewing art through these lens ends up boxing all art into either "morally permissible" or "morally impermissible" categories, and shames anyone enjoying art in the "morally impermissible" box. Unfortunately, I see a lot of people responding to this by A) making excuses for art that they guiltily love despite its problematic elements and/or B) denying the value of any art that they are unable to defend as free from moral wickedness.

Now, I'm not saying that media shouldn't be critiqued on its moral virtue. I actually think morally critiquing art has its place, and assuming it's being done in good faith, it absolutely should be done, and probably even more often than it is now.

Because here's the truth: Sometimes, a story can be really good. Sometimes, you can have a genuinely amazing story with well developed characters and powerful themes that resonate deeply with anyone who reads it. Sometimes, a story can be all of these things - and still be problematic.*

(Or, sometimes a story can be all of those things, and still be written by a problematic author.)

That's why I say, when people conflate moral art with good art, they become blind to the possibility that the art they like being potentially immoral (or vice versa). If only "bad art" is immoral, how can the art that tells the story hitting all the right beats and with perfect rhythm and emotional depth, be ever problematic?

(And how can the art I love, be ever problematic?)

This is why I reject the idea that literary merit = moral virtue (or vice versa) - because I do care about holding art accountable. Even the art that is "good art". Actually, especially the art that is "good art". Especially the art that is well loved and respected and appreciated. The failure to distinguish literary critique from moral critique bothers me on a personal level because I think that conflating the two results in the detriment of both - the latter being the most concerning to me, actually.

So while I respect the inherent value of moral criticism, I'm really not a fan of any argument that presents moral criticism as equivalent to literary criticism, and I will call that out when I see it. And from what I've observed, a lot of the "but Zutara is a colonizer ship" tries to do exactly that, which is why I find it a dishonest and frankly harmful media analysis framework to begin with.

But even when it is done in good faith, moral criticism of art is also just something I personally am neither interested nor good at talking about, and I prefer to talk about the things that I am interested and good at talking about.

(And some people are genuinely good at tackling the moral side of things! I mean, I for one really enjoyed Lindsay Ellis's take on Rent contextualising it within the broader political landscape at the time to show how it's not the progressive queer story it might otherwise appear to be. Moral critique has value, and has its place, and there are definitely circumstances where it can lead to societal progress. Just because I'm not personally interested in addressing it doesn't mean nobody else can do it let alone that nobody else should do it, but also, just because it can and should be done, doesn't mean that it's the only "one true way" to approach lit crit by anyone ever. You know, sometimes... two things… can be true… at once?)

Anyway, if anyone reading this far has recognised that this is basically a variant of the proship vs. antiship debate, you're right, it is. And on that note, I'm just going to leave some links here. I've said about as much as I'm willing/able to say on this subject, but in case anyone is interested in delving deeper into the philosophy behind my convictions, including why I believe leftist authoritarian rhetoric is harmful, and why the whole "but it would be problematic in real life" is an anti-ship argument that doesn't always hold up to scrutiny, I highly recommend these posts/threads:

In general this blog is pretty solid; I agree with almost all of their takes - though they focus more specifically on fanfic/fanart than mainstream media, and I think quite a lot of their arguments are at least somewhat appropriate to extrapolate to mainstream media as well.

I also strongly recommend Bob Altemeyer's book "The Authoritarians" which the author, a verified giga chad, actually made free to download as a pdf, here. His work focuses primarily on right-wing authoritarians, but a lot of his research and conclusions are, you guessed it, applicable to left-wing authoritarians also.

And if you're an anti yourself, welp, you won't find support from me here. This is not an anti-ship safe space, sorrynotsorry 👆

In conclusion, honestly any "but Zutara is problematic" argument is one I'm likely to consider unsound to begin with, let alone the "Zutara is a colonizer ship" argument - but even if it wasn't, it's not something I'm interested in discussing, even if I recognise there are contexts where these discussions have value. I resent the idea that just because I have refined opinions on one aspect of a discussion means I must have (and be willing to preach) refined opinions on all aspects of said discussion. (I don't mean to sound reproachful here - actually the vast majority of the comments I get on my video/tumblr are really sweet and respectful, but I do get a handful of silly comments here and there and I'm at the point where I do feel like this is something worth saying.) Anyway, I'm quite happy to defer to other analysts who have the passion and knowledge to give complicated topics the justice they deserve. All I request is that care is taken not to conflate literary criticism with moral criticism to the detriment of both - and I think it's important to acknowledge when that is indeed happening. And respectfully, don't expect me to give my own take on the matter when other people are already willing and able to put their thoughts into words so much better than me. Peace ✌

*P.S. This works for real life too, by the way. There are people out there who are genuinely not only charming and likeable, but also generous, charitable and warm to the vast majority of the people they know. They may also be amazing at their work, and if they have a job that involves saving lives like firefighting or surgery or w.e, they may even be the reason dozens of people are still alive today. They may honestly do a lot of things you'd have to concede are "good" deeds.

They may be all of these things, and still be someone's abuser. 🙃

Two things can be true at once. It's important never to forget that.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Chapter 4. The Artist

Summary: If he does not leave his hiding spot willingly and upfront, you will squeeze in sideways to reach him. Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Words: 1,446 Listen to: Growing Sideways -by Noah Kahan A/N: Reblog or comment, pls! -Danny

"May I inquire about your family, then?" Benedict stands with both hands behind his back. "Unless you consider it none of my business..."

You smile at his teasing. "Depends on what you wish to know."

"Silly nothings," he leans sideways on the stone bannister. "If you're having fun in London... Why are you in London when you could be in further interesting places..."

"You don't think London is interesting?"

He tilts his head a moment, narrowing his eyes. "I think it's old and damp."

"On both we agree. Although I do not see its age as a bad thing."

"And the dampness?"

"That I do hate," you say with a sheepish smile, "But I had to make this visit nonetheless, I would've never left Genovia on my own, so my family came to support me. I should've started my rounds at social events seven years ago when I debuted."

"You've been postponing this for seven years?" He can't tell if this amuses, or rattles him. "Good lord... I must admit it is somewhat heartening, that a royal admits they dislike these... events. Makes me feel less of an oddity."

"You are a bit odd if you dislike balls," you push a strand of hair away from your delicate brow. "I long for a gathering where I can be myself without bringing my usual mishaps into it. A man such as yourself, handsome, social, and intelligent, never lacks approval."

"Yes, well, that is the problem," he scowls at a point in the distance. "Too many people claiming to like me when they don't even know me. The debutants, most of all. They search for a husband in me, which I'm not. I don't think I'll ever be one."

"A bachelor who wishes to be noticed instead of admired?" You raise a brow. "That speaks of depth. Lady Danbury said you like art, are you an artist yourself?"

Benedict's eye twitches before he adopts a fake smile. "Your Royal Highness, my duty tonight is to entertain you, so allow me to steer us towards our next activity—A stroll around the garden."

"Have I reached an uncomfortable topic of conversation?" You ask bluntly.

"Not at all," he guides you to the steps that lead down to the open grounds. "I don't wish to bore you with a story that has no substance."

"Now I'm more curious," you reply playfully, your gaze on him even as you walk down the steps.

"I want to keep my private life private if you don't mind," he steers you in the direction of a bush of big, red roses.

"And what shall we discuss, the weather?" You steer to the other side of the path to examine the lavender.

"Your Royal Highness wanted to know more about my family," he points out, keeping a respectful distance two steps behind you. "I'd be happy to talk of each and every member of my bloodline if you wish. In fact, I feel obliged to let you know my younger sister, Hyacinth, yearns for a chance to meet you."

"I would be delighted to meet her, is she in attendance?" You respond without looking away from the flowers.

"She's thirteen, but so clever she could surpass any debutante in conversation," he informs you, discretely pulling your skirt out of the bushes with his foot. "She's a precocious little thing."

"And yet not a single hint of chastisement in that declaration," you smile at the daisies. "You're quite proud she is that way."

"Well, you see your sister grow into a lady that will not be swept off her feet by any regular rake, and you can't help but rejoice in it, especially when you're a... man yourself." He stumbles over his words before calling himself a rake.

You notice there are telltales in Benedict's behaviour that indicate he's trying his best to be plain, which bugs you. You wish to speak with the man who stumbled upon you at Hyde Park and teased you like a friend, not this curated version of him. If he does not leave his hiding spot willingly and upfront, you will squeeze in sideways to reach him.

"You have paint on your hand." You say as casually as possible. Benedict looks down in alarm and you laugh. "Ah-ha! You are an artist!"

"You—" he purses his lips before he can blurt out affront. "I'm not! I thought I'd touched something freshly painted!"

"Oh, yes, that is a common occurrence, fresh paint is everywhere," you reply sarcastically. "You're an artist, Mr Bridgerton. I'm willing to be you own a sketchbook. Are you good at drawing with coal?"

"Charcoal," he corrects unable to stop himself. "I burned that wretched thing a year ago. Please—"

"I keep a diary," you continue steadily, "and I draw the herbs and flowers I find in my trips, but I'm not good at it."

"I'm not a teacher," Benedict says promptly, his feet itching to turn away from the conversation.

"You will be now," you give him no chance to refuse, your expression adopting a royal severity you've learned to master thanks to your mother. "You'll be here on Monday at noon to discuss our lessons."

"Are you out of your wits?" His personality slips out as he glares at you. "Or is this your way of punishing me for my impertinence?"

"Neither," you say without reacting to his tone. "I want your company for this season because I find you..." You push your shoulders back and squint as if trying to read him. "Engaging. Your sister Miss Hyacinth is invited, too. I'll write to her in the morning. Now, let us return to the ballroom."

Benedict watches you retreat, barely able to keep his animosity under control.

When the ball ends you reunite with your sister, excusing yourselves for the night and walking together to your chambers. 

"Who was that gentleman you clung to the whole evening?"

"I did not cling, he wouldn't stand close enough for me to do so," you grumble.

"But who was he?" Marie insists.

"My new art teacher," you disclose proudly. "He'll come back this Monday."

"Art teacher?" Marie gives you a look. "Since when do you draw?"

"If I knew how to draw, I wouldn't need a teacher, would I?"

"There's something you're not telling me." Your sister sees right through you nonchalant act.

"Let us get to my room first," you grab her hand and pull her forward.

You kick off your shoes and huddle up on the lounging chair, where she tells you about the dashing gentlemen she conversed with and the debutantes she befriended, the funny incident one of your brothers suffered with a redheaded lady, and how she's made plans for the week ahead.

You listen, and when it's your turn to speak, you don't know where to start. "Well... Yesterday while everyone visited the castle grounds, I went to Hyde Park for a stroll—"

"Y/N!"

"Nothing happened!" You say defensively. "I had a lovely time. This gentleman approached me and initiated a conversation, which I quite enjoyed." You blush. "I didn't know he'd be here tonight, but it's a good thing he was. I do not have kindred spirits in this particular side of London 'cept for him, it seems."

"Oh, you've barely left the castle at all!" Marie huffs stubbornly.

"I'm not completely opposed to meeting more people even if we don't fit," you shrug, brushing off the wrinkles on your dress. Benedict feels like a comfortable risk, something that your parents can see as progress without having to put yourself out there in a real way. "I simply want to secure this acquaintanship."

"Because...?" Your sister prompts, a knowing glint in her eyes. 

"Because he's nice to look at," you reply without matching her energy, "is that what you want me to say?"

Marie rolls her eyes. "Oh, you'll get your sense of humour back soon enough, so I won't take your rudeness to heart. All I ask of you is that you tell me if this becomes something else... or if he's open to one-night encounters with his student's sister," she winks at you and gets up.

You toss a small cushion at her and she exits the room laughing. Your smile fades as soon as she's out and you slump on the chair, taking off the pins on your hair one by one and tossing them to the table in front of you. 

All these effort—you think grumpily as your hair cascades down your shoulders—and no one looked at me... not like he did in the park.

Benedict is an easy target, something to keep yourself busy and ignore all the ways you cannot come out of your shell as a grown woman. Vexing him is better than embarrassing yourself in front of large groups three times a day. 

He's getting paid for all the trouble, so really, what is there to complain about? This will be the best season of his life.

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[evidence-based-activism]

women have a significantly higher rate of abusing children than men do.

They do not. I have discussed this at length in this post. Relevant portion copied below (see post for sources):

---

No women do not abuse children more.

You said "Women abuse children more", but this is an oft-repeated statement from terribly misinterpreted data.

The misconception comes from data from the child maltreatment report from the HHS [5]. This report looks at reports of child abuse and neglect. In it they found that 52% of victims had a female perpetrator and 47% had a male perpetrator. At first glance, this looks like women abuse more children (hence the wide-spread misinterpretation), however this neglects to take several things into consideration.

First, since about 51% of the population is female, even if we considered nothing else, these values would suggest parity in maltreatment (abuse + neglect) rates. Of course, even this interpretation is deeply flawed, but I thought it merited pointing out.

Second, and perhaps most important, these stats are not looking at incidence or even prevalence rates. This isn't a rate at all. For example, you may be tempted to interpret these as "52% of children in a women's care are abused" or "52% of women abuse children". These are, and I must stress this, completely incorrect interpretations. These stats say only that of child maltreatment (abuse+neglect) victims identified by CPS, 52% of them were maltreated by a women.

Next, these stats fail to take into account the fact that many more women are the primary caretaker of children. According to the American Time Use Survey (ATUS), mothers spend 80% more time caring for children than fathers. This disparity widens even further when you exclude the "entertainment" categories like playing or reading to children (130% increase, or more than double) [6]. This matters because it provides some insight into how rates of abuse would be different. You need to adjust for time spent with children to get a meaningful rate. Another way to look at this is that despite mothers spending almost twice the amount of time around children as fathers, they account for the same number of perpetrators. This alone should tell you that a child is more likely to be safe in the company of a randomly selected woman than a randomly selected man.

In case you still aren't convinced however, the report also clarifies that the perpetrator sex varied widely by maltreatment type. Women were the perpetrator in 58.5% of neglect cases (vs 41%) and 70.5% of medical neglect cases (vs 29%). But men were the perpetrator in 49.5% of physical abuse cases (vs 49%), 89% of sexual abuse cases (vs 8%), and 59% of emotional abuse cases (vs 41%). While no form of child maltreatment is ever acceptable, I hope I don't need to explain how abuse (which "requires an action") is different from neglect (which "occurs from an inaction") and requires different responses.

Speaking of neglect: there is much discourse on how much of the neglect (and medical neglect) registered by CPS is "true neglect" and how much is a result of poverty. This is particularly relevant considering single mothers are much more likely to live in poverty than married couples or single fathers. Examples of this may include: a mother doesn't have enough money to buy food and pay for rent so she and her child eat very little until her next paycheck, a single mother can't miss work without being fired so she sends her sick child to school, a single mother can't pay for child care so she has to choose between leaving her child home alone or having an unfit adult (her own abusive parent? an unsuitable boyfriend?) watch her child. In all of these situations, something absolutely needs to be done to help the child, but it likely isn't the same something as a child who's being beaten or sexually abused by his father.

Other notes on neglect: even the relatively higher proportion of female perpetrators for neglect and medical neglect in this sample are well below parity when adjusted for time spent with the child. It’s also likely that men’s rates of neglect are likely severely under-reported here. Why? Because a neglect case is rarely (if ever) opened for absentee ("deadbeat") dads; it's also unclear how many men with non-primary custody are listed as perpetrators of neglect. (I ask you: if mothers are considered neglectful for failing to intervene on behalf of their child in abusive/neglectful situations, why aren't fathers?)

Other studies on child abuse perpetration (sadly no national reports) show:

Evaluations of child fatalities in Missouri over a 8-year period showed men inflicted 71% of fatal injuries on young children [8]

Evaluations of fatal and nonfatal abusive head trauma over a 12-year period at the Children's Hospital of Denver found 69% of the perpetrators were male (including 74% of the perpetrators of fatal head traumas) [9]

Data from conviction rates and victimization surveys suggest that 4-5% of adult, child sex offenders (as in child sex offenders who are adults) are female, meaning that 95-96% are male [10]

Altogether, this indicates that men are more likely to abuse a child in their care than women. Unsurprisingly, it’s safer for children to be around women than around men.

[tyuns-world]

✾ Growing pains ✾

Bestfriend!Kai x Fem!reader

Genre: Semi-smut

Warnings: degradation

Summary: Kai's long-standing crush on his

childhood best friend takes a steamy turn as he finds

himself wanting more than just innocent hugs.

Word count: 1,109

Second one: https://www.tumblr.com/tyuns-world/743522891684102144/growing-pains-2

Minors DNI

Kai, once just an innocent childhood friend with a crush, transformed when you both entered college. Discussions about dating and other men acted as kindling to ignite his jealousy and possessiveness. How dare you even entertain the thought of granting your heart to another, of sharing kisses, embarking on dates, exchanging longing glances, surrendering your virginity, or allowing any touch that wasn't his?

It started as an innocent crush, with stolen glances, lingering hugs, and a smile that brightened when your texts arrived. But then, Kai couldn't suppress the dirty thoughts that surged whenever you were near. Kai has known for a while that he's into more taboo things when it comes to the bed, but he never thought those thoughts would apply to you. He found himself questioning the length of your dresses, fixating on the cute bows adorning your thigh highs, desiring to prove himself superior by fucking you in front of your 'crushes'. Suddenly, your full, plump lips seemed made for something more than innocent smiles, and the thought of tying you up with the ribbon from your hair became an obsession, a desire for you never to leave him.

The breaking point came when you energetically entered his shared apartment, boasting about finally losing your virginity. Kai, in the midst of a heated Mario Kart race, paused his game, leaving his roommate Taehyun irritated by the interruption. A tangible shift occurred in Kai's demeanor. Something that went noticed by everyone but you. Kai questioned your announcement, leading to an unsettling (for him) conversation in his room.

As you sat on Kai’s well-worn gaming chair at his cluttered desk, surrounded by game controllers and a large screen, you rambled about a guy you liked. Leaving your number and planning to meet at his place, you expected Kai’s usual supportiveness. However, it vanished, replaced by a dark, strange look. Kai's incredulous reaction cast a shadow over the once-familiar surroundings. "You're excited because some guy doesn't have the decency to even take you out on a date and only wants to get in your pants?" he finally questioned, leaving you taken aback by your once-supportive friend's unexpected reaction.

"Well, if he wants me in that way, obviously it'll lead to a relationship, Kai," you retort with a hint of sass. Kai chuckles at your innocent remark. "Sure," he says, rolling his eyes, now purposefully provoking your irritation with his sarcasm. "Kai, what's this," you gesture towards him, "about?" you pout. "I just can't believe how naïve you're being right now," he adds, emphasizing his disbelief with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Naïve? What's naïve about what I just said? He's obviously attracted to me," you assert. Kai takes a long breath before responding, "Yeah, attracted to your body. He just wants to get you in his bed and nothing more." His tone is genuinely starting to irritate you, yet it oddly stirs something else in you. You've never had Kai speak down to you like this, and now you're finding it a bit hot. So, you decide to challenge him, "What if that's what I also want, hm?"

Kai smirks, pushing off the door, slowly walking towards you, now towering over your form on his chair. With a touch of sarcasm, he says, "Is being treated like a whore what you want?" His imposing presence becomes suddenly suffocating, making you feel increasingly hot and wetter by the minute. Now, you stutter, struggling to get words out as you look up at your smirking best friend.

You've always been captivated by Kai. The guy appears as if Aphrodite herself descended to craft him. His well-defined, slender nose with a slight bump, soft, slightly pouty lips, and cheerful eyes that usually hold so much care for you, now gaze at you as if you're pathetic. You always thought your little kindergarten crush on the new boy would go nowhere until you two became inseparable. You concealed your feelings for your friend from then all the way until now. It was easier to find a new boy toy to project your emotions for him onto than to tell him.

"I asked a question, Y/N." Kai leans even further forward, eliminating any space between you two, placing his hands on the desk behind the chair. Noses almost touching, breaths intertwining. His domineering presence makes you involuntarily clench your thighs slightly, and you notice Kai darting his eyes, catching the minuscule movement. The action causes your best friend to raise an eyebrow at you, not in a questioning way but more in a cocky, knowing manner. "I guess that answers my question. Is this turning you on, Y/N?" You open your mouth to protest, but you can't find the words, so you just pathetically nod, your panties growing wetter by the situation. "So, you do like being treated like a whore, hmm? You like being looked down on?" you let out a slight gasp at his words, a shock of pleasure running down your spine.

"Kai," you meant to say as a warning, but it only came out as a whine. "What, Y/N? You want me to touch you now instead of your new boy toy? Are you that easy? What a slut" He places a finger on your thigh, trailing it up slowly. Your thighs clench tighter, growing needier by the minute. Before you could answer, there's a firm knock on the door. "Beomgyu is home, and he brought dinner," Taehyun says through the door. Suddenly, Kai becomes hyper-aware of the fact that you two aren't the only people in his apartment.

Kai stands up straight, his aura shifting back to the shy, cheerful boy you know. He starts awkwardly laughing, then abruptly leaves you there in his room—your face hot, breath heavy, panties wet, and dumbfounded by the new side of your best friend you didn't know he had.

The dinner table becomes the stage for an uneasy (for you) mix of small talk and lingering glances, with an unspoken understanding that something has shifted. Kai, now back to his usual cheerful self, keeps stealing subtle glances your way. Kai’s roommates, unaware of the recent events, contribute normally to the conversation, making the situation even more surreal.

As the dinner unfolds, you find yourself caught between ordinary conversation and the lingering awareness of the unexplored tension with Kai. The constant laughter around the table seems almost out of place, considering the encounter that occurred just moments ago. The evening ends with an unspoken agreement to resume a semblance of normalcy, yet the tension and desire lingers.

[rubra-wav]

do you think vox would play videogames,, do you think you'd be able to play videogames on him,, and if you could, what would it be like for him?

OMG imagine you're playing some game on his screen, and you ask him if he can get closer because you can't see the game properly, he complains but gets closer anyway, you say he's still too far, he gets pissy and insults your eyesight because he's already close enough, so you take the matter into your own hands and pull him into your lap‼️ then the game crashes because he gets flustered

sorry for the ramble but i've been thinking abt this for SO long 😭

- 💫

Vox x reader: 'Frontseat gaming' oneshot

A/N Reader is playing Stardew Valley bc I say so (it is peak)

Vox would 100% be the type of gamer to just go "You're bad" at every step and bully you when you fail, and I will not hear anything less

Cw: SFW, gn!reader, just vox getting seriously flustered (we love to see it), romantic/crush reader

Here's me also just kinda discussing more onto this topic but not in drabble form.

- Your little character entered the mines, you frantically switching between squares as you fought monsters flying at you from every direction.

- ...Then you promptly died because you couldn't see properly.

- You inhaled deeply in irritation as you watched 3000 gold empty from your wallet, pressing a hand to your forehead before looking somewhat in annoyance at the demon in front of you.

- "Could you move closer, please? I can't see properly when you're that far away, man." You complained.

- Vox had snickered when you died, then did so again as you asked that.

- "I'm literally a metre away from you, and you 'can't see properly'? Just admit you're.. how do you say it?" Vox pretends to think as his mouth and eyes and brows appear overlayed over your house. He snaps his fingers, then raises his brows with a smug look down at you. "Fucking coping at this point."

- It was very rare of an opportunity for Vox to allow someone to play anything on his screen. He thought it would be a somewhat entertaining opportunity, however (him getting to have you stare at him in concentration for a prolonged period of time and having the excuse to stare right back at you)

- The plug-in process for your keyboard and mouse was a little awkward, to say the least, but it went off without a hitch apart from that.

- You grumble out curses at him and shuffle closer to him when it's clear he's not moving his ass to be a bitch about it, about 2 feet in between you now.

- Vox's face disappears again with one last condescending 'mhmmm' and leaves you to continue.

- It's better, and you can see more, but you once again are met with a death screen with even more of a loss then last time.

- "Goddammit!" You yell, smacking your keyboard not hard enough to damage it but hard enough for the buttons to mash loudly under your fist. Vox laughs loudly, shoulders shaking as he tries to contain himself.

- "You're so fucking bad, how are you this bad at the cute little farming game, (name)?" He teases you, sharp smile coming into sight over the death screen.

- "Shut the hell up, Vox! I still can't see jackshit. Come closer!" You demand, which in turn has Vox's laughing mouth fall into a frown, eyes coming back into sight with a clearly irritated expression.

- "It's not my fucking fault your eyes are that shit. Don't you fucking talk to me like tha-"

- His scolding and eye getting ready for hypnosis is interrupted as you angrily grumble, leaning forward to grip his hips and pull him closer.

- Vox's face starts to heat up, him stuttering out in disbelief as a sound similar to fans turning on to cool a computer slowly cracks to life as Vox suddenly finds himself pulled into your lap, either one of his legs resting splayed out behind your back.

- "There. Now I can see just fine." You sigh out with relief, concentration now on your face as your hands gently wrap around either side of his monitor to pull it down to face towards you.

- You notice his surprised expression glitching out finally and feel the way his screen has heated up massively under your hands.

- ...Then watch as there's promptly an error message with a loud 'dun!' sound.

- "Oh shi-!" You snort, poking his screen a couple of times. "Earth to Boxhead~" you sing out, and then you're met with a very flustered Vox once again coming back to his senses.

- "Fucking stop that!" He swats your hand poking him continuously away lightly, prompting you to once again laugh.

- It's silent for a couple of seconds outside of you laughing at his sour expression, face now just normal outside of the bright blue blush across his cheeks resembling a heart monitor beating with what was undeniably his own heart's current slowing frantic rate.

- After calming down a bit, Vox hesitantly does something that surprises even himself.

- He wraps his legs around your waist to bring himself closer to you.

- It was your turn to blush now as his face was just barely inches from yours, your gamer rage wearing off into embarrassment at realising the position you had pulled him into.

- "There," Vox's voice is lower than usual, more unsure than you've ever heard him you think. "Can you see me clearly now?"

- You somewhat get the feeling that he's not exactly talking about your game being displayed on his screen with the way his red eyes look down at you, blue pupils rather large under half lidded eyes.

- You gulp, then force a laugh. "Y-yeah. This is good, thanks." You shakily pick up your mouse again and begin pressing at the keyboard now next to you two.

- Your mind isn't exactly on the game as his eyes and mouth once again flicker off the display to show just your game, and you once again die.

- "See? You're just bad."

- "Shut up!"

Me when I set up a literally perfect kiss scene and then don't give it to my readers

Masterlist

[waitmyturtles]

Forgive me for this ramble, but If I could put my TMZ hat on for a second ... while we have no idea what the issue is/was between Joong and Est, I wonder if class disparity might play a part? I've noticed that quite a few actors in the Thai BL space, especially at GMMTV, seem to come from wealthy backgrounds. Just off the top of my head at GMM there is Off, Tay, Win, Bright, Pond, Phuwin, Dunk, and Boun. While not at gmm I can think of Mile, Billkin, Mew, Tul, Ta, Nut ...etc. You can even see it in the kpop industry with Minnie, Ten, and Nichkhun.

Now while I haven't read anything indicating Est's, or for that matter Daou and Offroad's wealth status, it does make me wonder. Perhaps @respectthepetty might have more insight. However, from what I have read about Joong, his bio-father died when he was young, his mother remarried a Turkish man, and they moved to Turkey where his half-siblings were born and then his step-father died. Joong finally worked to make enough money to buy a house and moved his family into the house in Thailand. I am not sure if his mother works, but if she doesn't then he would be the sole breadwinner of the family.

Now while being wealthy doesn't make one a bad person, there might be some ignorant mindsets, hyper-consumerism, image maintenance, and thoughtlessness that could could clash with people that don't have the financial freedom or free-time to spend as they like because they have people dependent on them.

Considering Joong is really big on his family, and he most likely had to grow up faster than others due to the circumstances of his life, I wonder if he is just has a lot more to consider in his life, while the others are able to just be young?

I really can't tell if he is the messy kind of person that constantly posts cryptic things for attention but never wants to talk about it (or in this case cant because he is a celeb), or if he is actually just being a little too real for a celeb, while the others are following their PR to a "T."

If wealth disparity is playing a part, this could compound the Dunk issue aside him being caught between fighting friends, because Dunk also comes from a wealthy family.

This is highly speculative BUT is an angle I haven't seen discussed.

Thanks for the note, @simysaru43! Tagging Sis @respectthepetty for thoughts.

It’s been gently speculated that wealth and family connections may have played a part (besides Ohm’s 2023 controversy) in the break-up of OhmNanon, considering Nanon’s nepo baby status. And Chimon Wachirawit has been public over the years about the huge financial burdens caused by his family’s debt that essentially led to him needing to find entertainment work in Series Y; as we know now, he has been working through mental health issues over the past year and likely his young adult life. (There was this very impactful video that I saw on Twitter last year, I wish I could find it, with Chimon being interviewed in front of his family’s house that had once been repossessed. Very tough to watch.)

Anyway, you may and even likely have a point. A lot of these guys — Chimon, Earth, Nanon — have been relatively open about their depression, and very often it’s financial burdens and stress that can trigger omnipresent mental health issues. Joong’s been pretty messy online. These are otherwise highly trained entertainers who are trained to not be so messy publicly. Something could be behind whatever’s driving Joong’s messiness, and it could very well be class disparities and how they’re expressed in the young Thai upper-class society that these guys roll in.

Any thoughts from your circles, @respectthepetty?

[blue-rose-soul]

"Great Alastor Altruist* died for his friends!"

This scene has been spinning in my brain since Thursday. Like a lot of other people, my first thought was that this was an indication that Alastor had grown to care for Charlie and her friends at the hotel. And it's not because of the words he says. Even if you're watching without subtitles and don't see the quotations around that phrase, it's pretty obvious that he's laughing at the very thought.

"Me? Alastor? Dying for them?"

"Ridiculous."

"Absurd!"

"Utterly laughable!"

No, what makes me think that there might be a kernel of truth there isn't the words by themselves. It's the look on his face as he says them.

This is the part where Alastor's angry snarl breaks and he begins to look genuinely afraid. He clutches his chest. He digs his fingers into his scalp, drags his hand down the side of his face. And that's a perfectly reasonable reaction to nearly dying! It's very human! But I think it's very telling that this expression doesn't settle on his face until he's talking about dying for someone else. Before this he looked more angry than anything, and he lapses back into anger up until he begins talking about trying to find a way out of his deal.

Now, don't get me wrong, I understand why anyone would think otherwise. The thing about Alastor is that, despite how blatant it is, his mask works. Like I stated earlier, I find myself searching every word, expression, and gesture from Alastor for double meaning. Ostensibly, there's no one here for Alastor to lie to**. No one he has to put up an act for. But his smile, which he's already fully admitted is faker than fake, remains firmly in place. I wonder if putting up an act is so second nature to him at this point he can't help but do it even when he's alone. Maybe he tries to fool himself as much as other people.

I believe that he has come to care, but I can't fully believe it. I won't be surprised to be wrong. But there are some scenes that just don't make sense to me if he really doesn't care at all.

His chat with Niffty the night before the extermination, for example. Niffty isn't really someone he needs to trick. He has power over her, whether it's because he owns her soul or because of her blind devotion to him. It's telling that while everyone else is hanging out together, sharing drinks at the bar, Alastor keeps his distance and positions himself above them. At this point, Alastor seems to care about them the way we, the audience, care about them; as entertainment. He's enjoying watching their story unfold up close, but that's all there is to it. He admits to Niffty that one could get accustomed to being with them. Not him though! He's above all that.

Then the battle happens. At first, Alastor's role in the battle didn't require him to assume too much risk. He was on crowd control, limiting the number of exorcists the rest of the hazbins have to deal with at once. And he slayed a not insubstantial number of angels in the process***. But then Adam broke through Alastor's shield and singled him out. It would have been reasonable for Alastor to put some distance between himself and the Lead Exorcist. Charlie did say it was his job to deal with Adam, but as I've already discussed, Alastor really had no hope of winning that fight alone. Maybe if he'd escaped right then and there, or fought Adam alongside Charlie things would have turned out differently. Granted, I don't think his pride would have allowed him to take either of those options.

Regardless, the end result is that Alastor did come very close to dying for a cause that wasn't his. Considering what Adam did to the hotel, Alastor's pretty damn lucky he's not in two pieces here.

Now, I don't think this means Alastor is immediately going to turn around and integrate int o the hazbin family. Immediately after this line where he mocks the idea of dying for Charlie's cause, he gets angry again, leans further into the Radio Demon persona and starts contemplating ways to escape his contract. I think, that like someone recoiling after accidentally touching a hot stove, Alastor's going to pull further away from them. One thing I am certain about is how Alastor feels about his leash; he hates it. He wants to be rid of it. He doesn't know how to do that yet, but he's working out a plan and having Charlie in his corner is part of that plan. Giving a genuine shit about her or the other hazbins is not part of that plan. It's another leash, not as literal as the one connecting him to his patron but just as binding.

Alastor realizing he might actually care about these people may just make him more dangerous to them than if he just didn't care at all.

-

(*The word 'altruist' here being used as a title, not a name. Like something you'd see in a newspaper headline, or on a headstone.)

(**There do seem to be some odd eye motifs in the environment, but at no point does Alastor give any indication he is aware of them or acknowledge their presence in anyway. And I highly doubt he would have said certain things if he believed his patron was actively watching him.)

(***Taking this opportunity to go off topic a bit to call the Vees out on their hypocrisy. For all their bluster about 'taking the fight to Heaven' and how 'pussy' the older Overlords supposedly are, I didn't see any of them on the battlefield. Alastor was. He fought as long and hard as he could. There was nothing cowardly about him living to fight another day.)

[cassafrasscr]

There's something that I think tends to get overlooked when people discuss how Orym’s trauma relates to the debate about the gods. In addition to triggering his grief and trauma responses, Orym has been told repeatedly that if any of his friends turn, he'll have to kill them. Including by some of the friends in question.

The rest of Bell’s Hells (with maybe the exception of Ashton and Fearne) have all said to his face that he's 'The Good One', and that if they turn traitor they know he'll "do the right thing" by eliminating them before they can do any major harm.

Not only is that a hell of a lot of pressure to put on one person, but Orym is desperate to avoid having to do that. He LOVES his friends. Even when he was face-to-face with DeLaudna, he tried to throw down his weapons at first. He was one of the first members of the group to call Bell’s Hells his family.

Orym can't let go of his quest to stop Ludinus, and for good reason. Dorian agreeing with Ludinus' argument is particularly painful, given all the feelings that are tangled up in there. Even putting aside the Dorym of it all, Orym trusts Dorian more than anyone and believes so hard in his innate goodness. If Dorian joined the Ruby Vanguard and Orym had to fight him, I think he might actually break.

So I'm not surprised Orym snapped at Dorian the way he did. Not saying he was right to do so - it was harsh and hurtful of Orym to bring Cyrus into it, and he should apologize for that.

Between his past trauma and the prospect of having to kill the people he loves most, I think it's understandable that hearing his friends entertain Ludinus' ideas would frighten Orym. He needs to learn to trust that just because his friends might agree with some of Ludinus' points, it doesn't mean they're going to join the Vanguard. I'm not sure he'll ever feel completely safe in his relationships without that reassurance.

[wield-the-mighty-pen]

I’m curious to know what makes you like Ladrien. What’s the appeal? I have my reasons for why I dislike them, so I’m definitely interested to hear all about the other side.

Absolutely no hate, I’m just super curious

Hi! First of all, thank you for giving me an excuse to babble on about Ladrien 🥰

I just want to preface this by stating that it is my belief that people who don't like Ladrien, are those who don't really understand the ship and/or the beauty to the ship, so it would be my pleasure to talk about why I love them so much:

1. They are the pinnacle of Lovesquare mutual pining

I personally am a mutual pining fiend. If there is mutual pining in a ship, chances are you can find me onboard. Mutual pining is probably my favorite part of a ship timeline, I love the angst, the bitter-sweetness, the confused and pained but still loving interactions, and my friend, Ladrien has all that and a bag of chips.

The thing is, Adrien is in love with Ladybug, Ladybug is in love with Adrien, but there's a certain impossibility to their love. Ladybug doesn't know Adrien well enough to love him, so it would never cross his mind that she would even entertain him as a romantic interest. Adrien has hardly even interacted with Ladybug, so it certainly wouldn't make sense that he would have feelings for her, forget about being in love with her.

What cements these beliefs is the fact that they both know the other in very different circumstances. Chat Noir and Marinette both know that the person they are in love with is not fickle about their feelings and is not shallow about love, they aren't just going to fall in love with some random celebrity. What's even more so is the fact that Ladybug knows that Adrien is in love with someone (circa season 3) and Adrien knows that Ladybug is in love with someone (circa season 2), making it so that they believe that the others' affections are tied elsewhere, seemingly making them unavailable (hence the pining).

I also want to point out that Ladrien is also void of the friendships of Adrinette and Ladynoir, meaning the pining becomes even more powerful as they don't even have access to the comforts of friendship. They are apart in every painful way.

This all creates an environment where every interaction between the two is filled with this yearning tension of wanting to be closer, wanting to move closer, but having to stop themselves because it doesn't make sense, because they fear rejection, because they just can't.

2. They have amazing on-screen chemistry and interactions

If you don't watch any season 2 Ladrien scene with a giant smile on your face, then you are missing out. I chose to mention season 2 in particular, because it's the season with the most Ladrien interaction, but honestly, you can find amazing Ladrien in every season.

The way they both stare at each other in wonder, in the first ever Ladrien interaction might I add, in season one's episode "The Mime", was the perfect way to set the stage for what we were to expect from this ship. They love each other, they are amazed by each other, they make each other dizzy and distracted, it's beautiful and hopeful, and directly contrasts the very difficult interactions that Adrien has in the episode with his father. Whereas Adrien's family is a point of pain for him, Ladybug is the light, the hope for him

Just discussing my two favorite Ladrien scenes, their chemistry and brilliantly portrayed relationship is obvious. Firstly, there is the catch scene in "Gorizilla". I don't think this scene needs explanation, but my goodness it is one I like to talk/think about a lot. The way he portrays implicit trust in Ladybug, the way he fully believes that she will catch him, is just so djaskljdaksljdkals, it's so sweet to watch. But then, she catches him, and even without talking about the trope subversion (though it is important), the way that they stare at each other, how their sole focus is on each other, how the catch was fast and sudden, but then Ladybug slows down to make the descent more comfortable for Adrien, it's all just *chef's kiss*. Adrien is then so enamored and lovestruck, that he forgets where he is, he forgets who he is, and nearly exposes himself by using a term of endearment for his love, which is just the most Ladrien thing ever jdksadjaskld

Finally, I want to talk about my other favorite Ladrien scene, which is the panic attack scene at the end of "Strike Back". Here we see Ladybug coping with the worst betrayal she has ever endured, and at the hands of the person who looks identical to the boy standing in front of here. And with all that uncertainty and mistrust, he stays there, he comforts her, he talks her through her panic, through her next steps. And when he offers her to detransform in his bathroom, with only a door to prevent her reveal, despite being unsure and cautious, she ultimately decides to trust him. She puts her vulnerability into his hands and allows him to see her emotional vulnerability and potentially have access to her physical vulnerability.

(there are more scenes to talk about but for brevity's sake I will stop here)

3. They very obviously love and support each other, despite the circumstances of their relationship

Just drawing back to the episodes that were mentioned in the last point, just from viewing those two scene alone, it is obvious that though they both love each other, she also trusts him and he trusts her.

The truth of the matter is, no side of the lovesquare exists in a vacuum. The sides bleed and meld and create together some amalgamated item that will only feel whole when the full square is revealed. As such, the knowledge and feelings that they have as Adrinette and Ladynoir, are going to have some presence while they are Ladrien.

My point of mentioning this, is that trust and sensitivity for each other is going to be present in their relationship, even if they didn't necessarily reach that development as Ladrien. On paper, Ladrien is a superhero and a model who have only interacted a handful of times. And yet, to both of them, their relationship is so much deeper than that.

They know each other, they're familar with each other, and yet, they're not. Adrien knows how Ladybug will take a joke from Chat Noir, but he doesn't know how she'll take one from Adrien, or why there's a difference. Ladybug knows how Adrien will react to a gift from Marinette, but she doesn't know how he'll take one from Ladybug, nor why there might be a difference. Adrien might know Ladybug's favorite drink order, but he doesn't know her birthday, her parents' name, etc. And Likewise, Ladybug might know Adrien's favorite color, but she doesn't know what he does at night, where the ring on his finger is from.

And yet, despite all of this, despite only being familiar with half a person, they take that half and choose to love them whole-heartedly. They choose to take the information they have and trust that person blindly. Despite, the impossibility of their relationship, they choose to continue to hope.

Because they admire each other, they care for each other, they love each other, and they will do everything in their power to continue to do that. And I think that's beautiful.

There are more reasons, but these are the main three, and I doubt you want to hear me drone on, so hope this sufficed!

Thank you for the ask! <3