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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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Kelly and Zach Weinersmith’s “A City On Mars”

In A City On Mars, biologist Kelly Weinersmith and cartoonist Zach Weinersmith set out to investigate the governance challenges of the impending space settlements they were told were just over the horizon. Instead, they discovered that humans aren't going to be settling space for a very long time, and so they wrote a book about that instead:

https://www.acityonmars.com/

The Weinersmiths make the (convincing) case that ever aspect of space settlement is vastly beyond our current or reasonably foreseeable technical capability. What's more, every argument in favor of pursuing space settlement is errant nonsense. And finally: all the energy we are putting into space settlement actually holds back real space science, which offers numerous benefits to our species and planet (and is just darned cool).

Every place we might settle in space – giant rotating rings, the Moon, Mars – is vastly more hostile than Earth. Not just more hostile than Earth as it stands today – the most degraded, climate-wracked, nuke-blasted Earth you can imagine is a paradise of habitability compared to anything else. Mars is covered in poison and the sky disappears under planet-sized storms that go on and on. The Moon is covered in black-lung-causing, razor-sharp, electrostatically charged dust. Everything is radioactive. There's virtually no water. There are temperature swings of hundreds of degrees every couple of hours or weeks. You're completely out of range of resupply, emergency help, or, you know, air.

There's Helium 3 on the Moon, but not much of it, and there is no universe in which is it cheaper to mine for Helium 3 on the Moon than it is to mine for it on Earth. That's generally true of anything we might bring back from space, up to and including continent-sized chunks of asteroid platinum.

Going to space doesn't end war. The countries that have gone to space are among the most militarily belligerent in human history. The people who've been to space have come back perfectly prepared to wage war.

Going to space won't save us from the climate emergency. The unimaginably vast trove of material and the energy and advanced technology needed to lift it off Earth and get it to Mars is orders of magnitude more material and energy than we would need to resolve the actual climate emergency here.

We aren't anywhere near being a "multiplanetary species." The number of humans you need in a colony to establish a new population is hard to estimate, but it's very large. Larger than we can foreseeably establish on the Moon, on Mars, or on a space-station. But even if we could establish such a colony, there's little evidence that it could sustain itself – not only are we a very, very long way off from such a population being able to satisfy its material needs off-planet, but we have little reason to believe that children could gestate, be born, and grow to adulthood off-planet.

To top it all off, there's space law – the inciting subject matter for this excellent book. There's a lot of space law, and while there are some areas of ambiguity, the claims of would-be space entrepreneurs about how their plans are permissible under the settled parts of space law don't hold up. But those claims are robust compared to claims that space law will simply sublimate into its constituent molecules when exposed to the reality of space travel, space settlement, and (most importantly) space extraction.

Space law doesn't exist in a vacuum (rimshot). It is parallel to – and shares history with – laws regarding Antarctica, the ocean's surface, and the ocean's floor. These laws relate to territories that are both vastly easier to access and far more densely populated by valuable natural resources. The fact that they remain operative in the face of economic imperatives demands that space settlement advocates offer a more convincing account than "money talks, bullshit walks, space law is toast the minute we land on a $14 quadrillion platinum asteroid."

The Weinersmiths have such an account in defense of space law: namely, that space law, and its terrestrial analogs, constitute a durable means of resolving conflicts that would otherwise give rise to outcomes that are far worse for science, entrepreneurship, human thriving or nation-building than the impediments these laws represent.

What's more, space law is enforceable. Not only would any space settlement be terribly, urgently dependent on support from Earth for the long-foreseeable future, but every asteroid miner, Lunar He3 exporter and Martian potato-farmer hoping to monetize their products would have an enforcement nexus with a terrestrial nation and thus the courts of that nation.

But the Weinersmiths aren't anti-space. They aren't even anti-space-settlement. Rather, they argue that the path to space-based scientific breakthroughs, exploration of our solar system, and a deeper understanding of our moral standing in a vast universe cannot start with space settlements.

Landing people on the Moon or Mars any time soon is a stunt – a very, very expensive stunt. These boondoggles aren't just terribly risky (though they are – people who attempt space settlement are very likely to die horribly and after not very long), they come with price-tags that would pay for meaningful space science. For the price of a crewed return trip to Mars, you could put multiple robots onto every significant object in our solar system, and pilot an appreciable fleet of these robot explorers back to Earth with samples.

For the cost of a tiny, fraught, lethal Moon-base, we could create hundreds of experiments in creating efficient, long-term, closed biospheres for human life.

That's the crux of the Weinersmiths' argument: if you want to establish space settlements, you need to do a bunch of other stuff first, like figure out life-support, learn more about our celestial neighbors, and vastly improve our robotics. If you want to create stable space-settlements, you'll need to create robust governance systems – space law that you can count on, rather than space law that you plan on shoving out the airlock. If you want humans to reproduce in space – a necessary precondition for a space settlement that lasts more than a single human lifespan – then we need to do things like breed multiple generations of rodents and other animals, on space stations.

Space is amazing. Space science is amazing. Crewed scientific space missions are amazing. But space isn't amazing because it offers a "Plan B" for an Earth that is imperiled by humanity's recklessness. Space isn't amazing because it offers unparalleled material wealth, or unlimited energy, or a chance to live without laws or governance. It's not amazing because it will end war by mixing the sensawunda of the "Pale Blue Dot" with the lebensraum of an infinite universe.

A science-driven approach to space offers many dividends for our species and planet. If we can figure out how to extract resources as dispersed as Lunar He3 or asteroid ice, we'll have solved problems like extracting tons of gold from the ocean or conflict minerals from landfill sites, these being several orders of magnitude more resource-dense than space. If we can figure out how to create self-sustaining terraria for large human populations in the radiation-, heat- and cold-blasted environs of space, we will have learned vital things about our own planet's ecosystems. If we can build the robots that are necessary for supporting a space society, we will have learned how to build robots that take up the most dangerous and unpleasant tasks that human workers perform on Earth today.

In other words, it's not just that we should solve Earth's problems before attempting space settlement – it's that we can't settle space until we figure out the solutions to Earth's problems. Earth's problems are far simpler than the problems of space settlement.

As I read the Weinersmiths' critique of space settlement, I kept thinking of the pointless AI debates I keep getting dragged into. Arguments for space settlement that turn on existential risks (like humanity being wiped out by comets, sunspots, nuclear armageddon or climate collapse) sound an awful lot like the arguments about "AI safety" – the "risk" that the plausible sentence generator is on the verge of becoming conscious and turning us all into paperclips.

Both arguments are part of a sales-pitch for investment in commercial ventures that have no plausible commercial case, but whose backers are hoping to get rich anyway, and are (often) sincerely besotted with their own fantasies:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

Both AI and space settlement pass over the real risks, such as the climate consequences of their deployment, or the labor conditions associated with their production. After all, when you're heading off existential risk, you don't stop to worry about some carbon emissions or wage theft.

And critically, both ignore the useful (but resolutely noncommercial) ways that AI or space science can benefit our species. AI radiology analysis might be useful as an adjunct to human radiological analysis, but that is more expensive, not less. Space science might help us learn to use our materials more efficiently on Earth, and that will come long before anyone makes rendezvous with a $14 quadrillion platinum asteroid.

There are beneficial uses for LLMs. When the Human Rights Data Analysis Group uses an LLM to help the Innocence Project New Orleans extract and categorize officer information from wrongful conviction records, they are doing something valuable and important:

https://hrdag.org/tech-notes/large-language-models-IPNO.html

It's socially important work, a form of automation that is an unalloyed good, but you won't hear about it from LLM advocates. No one is gonna get rich on improving the efficiency of overturning wrongful convictions with natural language processing. You can't inflate a stock bubble with the Innocence Project.

By the same token, learning about improving gestational health by breeding multigenerational mouse families in geosynchronous orbit is no way to get a billionaire tech baron to commit $250 billion to space science. But that's not an argument against emphasizing real science that really benefits our whole species. It's an argument for taking away capital allocation authority from tech billionaires.

I'm a science fiction writer. I love stories about space. But I can distinguish fantasy from reality and thought experiments from suggestions. Kim Stanley Robinson's 2015 novel Aurora – about failed space settlement – is every bit as fascinating and inspirational as "golden age" sf:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/11/02/kim-stanley-robinsons-aurora-space-is-bigger-than-you-think/

But still, it inspired howls of outrage from would-be space colonists. So much so that Stan wrote a brilliant essay explaining what we were all missing about space settlement, which I published:

https://boingboing.net/2015/11/16/our-generation-ships-will-sink.html

With City on Mars, the Weinersmiths aren't making the case for giving up on space, nor are they trying to strip space of its romance and excitement. They're trying to get us to focus on the beneficial, exciting, serious space science we can do right now, not just because it's attainable and useful – but because it is a necessary precondition for any actual space settlement in the distant future.

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/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

#pluralistic #books #reviews #space #bezzles #mars #spacex #robots #science #space science #space travel #space settlement #space colonization

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icyg4l · 24 days ago

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How Have You Grown Over the Past Year?

Hello beautiful people! Happy New Year! I am so happy to be posting this new PAC for you all. I plan to upload more frequently from now on in this new year of 2025. I am currently available for personal readings so if you would like one, please message me privately! As the title states, this reading is all about recognizing the growth you've made in the past twelve months. So without further ado, please choose the pile that resonates with you the most!

Top Left to Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: You must have gone from boo'd up to single, Pile One. I am hearing the word, "uprooted". Throughout the past year, you have been put in uncomfortable situations consecutively. You could have had to switch jobs because of an incident or move homes because of a mold problem (for some of you). You could have lost multiple loved ones. Either way, these situations have helped you become more self-sufficient and resilient. Tragedies are hard to deal with, however, you have learned what not to do. You intuitively picked up on how to handle situations that others would not be able to. You may feel hardened by these particular experiences, unable to see past your traumas. But you are more empathetic than ever. It is important that you know you will be a great teacher some day. One day you will look back on everything that you have accomplished while in the midst of chaos.

Cards Used: 4 of Wands. 3 of Swords. The High Priestess. 5 of Cups. 10 of Cups.

Affirmation: "I am actively rebuilding my life one step at a time."

Pile Two: The past couple of years could have been socially debilitating for you. Some of you could have prominent Saturn placements, such as a 1H Saturn or Capricorn/Aquarius Sun. I am sensing an energy of nervousness here. It's possible that you can have prominent Virgo/Gemini energy too. Anyway, you have had a come-to-Jesus moment. For years, you have allowed yourself to fall behind, to be in the shadows. But now, you you are making the attempt to be heard and seen. But remember who you are doing this for. Is it to wear the shoes of those who've belittled you? Or is it to walk your own path with your head held high? It seems that you are choosing to believe in yourself rather than listening to other people. You're becoming bolder by the minute. It's what your inner child would have wanted. Trusting the ideas that make no sense will be fulfilling to you. Make sure that you continue to leave your mark on this world, dear.

Cards Used: 3 of Cups (RX). The Hermit. 6 of Cups. Judgment. 8 of Wands.

Affirmation: "Expressing myself comes easy."

Pile Three: You deserve a round of applause, babe. It takes a lot of strength and tenacity to be loved. To be vulnerable with someone is to be seen fully by the other person. Your energy feels like a warm embrace. Your goal of feeling whole cannot be completed without the right people around you. Be glad that you've let these people in as they genuinely care for you. You've acquired peace, because you've realized that being hyper-independent isn't enough. Because of pride, many people would not own up to their feelings of insecurity. But because you are honest with yourself and are humble enough to allow honest people in your life, you are now living in a world full of happiness. Peace and quiet is great to bask in. Just stay grounded and don't let self-sabotage get to you.

Cards Used: The World. Strength. Queen of Discs. King of Discs.

Affirmation: "Love and support surrounds me everywhere I go."

Pile Four: Self-concept is important, is it not? That's why you made the decision to stop beating yourself up. You stopped setting unrealistic goals for yourself that could have possibly landed you into the hospital, or a rehab facility. You fought for a healthier body image. You casted spells to feel more comfortable in your skin. You have reflected on the jokes and slick comments, and instead of sulking, you just sat with them. You take them to the chin. It has taken a lot of rewiring to not make yourself the butt of the joke, but here you are. Forgiving yourself is no easy journey. But you have done it. You are doing it. Now don't let anyone, including yourself, deface you again. Letting the haters hate you, instead of being a self-hater, is a damn good philosophy that you've added to your noggin, babe!

Cards Used: 7 of Wands. The Emperor. 3 of Wands. 4 of Discs. 10 of Wands (RX). Queen of Wands.

Affirmation: "I accept my body in every form that it comes in"

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cyanophen · 4 months ago

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For those of you who've been here a while you know my first g/t comic, Harvest thief, I decided to remake the comic but with a different plot this time, but with the same ocs, Willow, Carol, and maybe POSSIBLY Joshua

also trying a new style for making this comic so know, experimental time

I don't know what to rename this comic though, comment ideas you guys have

#my art #digital art #g/t #g/t community #my ocs #sfw g/t

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david-talks-sw · 2 months ago

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We're the jedi conscripted, or did they join the war by choice

Short answer:

They were conscripted, but they didn't resist the conscription by choice.

You can read more on the subject here (with quotes by George Lucas supporting this), here re: the Jedi's relationship with the clones and here (explaining that while the Jedi were flawed, they weren't at fault).

Longer answer:

The droid armies were attacking all planets in the Republic's territory, be they neutral or otherwise.

The clones were facing weapons that targeted biological matter, as well as Force-users and cyborgs.

The people of the Republic - for the most part - were too weak or fearful or defenseless to fight back.

The Jedi are super-powered beings who've been drafted into a war, against their express desires.

If they so wished, they could start a putch, take control of the Senate rotunda, make everyone back off the Order.

Or just go on strike, say "nope, we don't stand for this, we're not warriors, see ya, good luck" and leave Coruscant.

Or they could sabotage droid factories here and there.

Will any of these options stop the war? We - the audience - know the answer to that is "no."

Because the truth is, this war is designed to be fought by the Jedi, so as to thin their numbers and ultimately destroy them completely.

Hence why,

the enemy is so blatantly evil (corporations mustering an army of lifeless killing machines) and

the victims are so clearly denfeseless (see the Lurmen pacifists or the Twi'lek or the Shili) and

the Republic's army is so hapless (the clones are well-trained, but they're just human, they are out of their depth and considered to be nothing more than expendable cannon fodder by both their creators and their owners).

If you're a Jedi, and your duty is to preserve life and end conflict... there really is only one answer that does the least damage.

And that's joining the conflict to help the people of the Republic, and to lead the clones so as to end the war.

Thus, the Jedi were both legally and morally compromised... and misled. Because there never was any "ending" to this war.

The war was a sham.

It was engineered by two Sith Lords to cause chaos from which the Empire could rise from after the destruction of the Jedi Order. That chaos can take ANY form, as long as both those boxes are ticked.

Like, suppose the Jedi hadn't joined... Palpatine, master politician that he is, could just as easily spin this as "the callous dispassionate Jedi would rather let people die than forego their dogmatic values of peace above all," still turn the public on them, and then have both the clones and the Separatists kill them on sight.

Because again: there was no war. BOTH those armies belonged to the Sith, they were shooting at each other so that the Jedi would step in-between them and get shot.

The only way to win this game was to either

fight it on the appropriate battlefield (the political arena, which the Jedi have no experience with),

acknowledge what's happening is beyond their understanding and try to play catch-up until they can do more,

and/or, when the time comes, have the Chosen One fulfill the prophecy and destroy the Sith.

They undertook the middle option, even grazed victory with it...

... and then Anakin - in a masterclass of fucking up - renders that middle option viable by reversing the third one - tailor-made for him and only him - and siding with the Sith, thus leaving the Force in darkness and the galaxy in chaos.

#QnA #jedi order #in defense of the jedi #jedi #on the jedi's involvement in the clone wars

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florenceafternoon · 7 months ago

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━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

These fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon complaints.

A while ago I posted about how one of my favourite part of reading canon jily is when they're a bit older and Lily is looking back in retrospect. The part where James shows her how he gets that this war that's looming over them, it's bigger, older, than they are and even though the world feels like it's ending his top priority is that they remember to enjoy the happy moments. To live in those moments.

Jily has always been a hot cup of tea on a cold and rainy day for me. I hope these fics give you a short break from life, even if it's just for a moment.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries.

These first few fics are all by @gigglesandfreckles-hp. Abi's characterisation of Lily and James as individuals are so special to me. How she writes jily is perfect - I mean the banter, the tension, the overall dynamic between them is just on point!

basic maths

Euphemia cuts Sirius off sharply. “I was simply verifying whether this is indeed the same Lily Evans whose name is written under my dining room table with a heart around it.”

or: Lily meets the parents and James tries not to hyperventilate. over and over and over again.

we suffer in silence

"It's fine, Evans," James interrupts, waving off her apology and offering a reassuring smile. "You've always been an exception to the rule." A hint of warmth spreads through Lily at his words. "You've never liked rules." He chuckles softly, his lips quirking up in a lopsided grin. "Which is why I never had a difficult time liking you."

or: James has had a bad day and Lily gives her best go at cheering him up

I've already made a whole post about how much I love this fic with my favourite quotes and everything, but god please if you read anything today let it be Abi's jily fics because they are legendary.

star light, star bright

It's seventh year, somehow, that clinches the case, claiming the grand prize in the annals of Lily Evans's misfortunes. Because, as it turns out, harbouring feelings for James Potter while also navigating the precarious terrain of friendship with him is a fate crueller than death.

or: James keeps accidentally touching Lily and she's about to lose her mind

amenable parameters

“Truth or dare, Lil?” “Dare,” she replies without hesitation, leaning back into the worn leather booth. “Obviously.” Hestia’s eyes gleam. “Go snog Potter.”

or: lily gets brave and james's patience is rewarded

here lies

James can't hold his drink, or his affections

the start of (something) new

“Oh, really?” Petunia crosses her arms. “What’s his name then?”

Lily pauses here, but only for a moment as her mind flashes back to the field at Jubilee Gardens. “James,” she says confidently. “James Potter.”

TW: this fic does depict a slightly descriptive panic attack.

Lily you are so valid for looking. For those of you who've seen the AU rec list I just posted, please know that this fic is the reason why I added all those footballer!james fics (well this fic and the euros).

common ground

Lily pauses, suddenly aware of James’s intense gaze. “What? Why are you…” Heat rushes to her cheeks, and she hates it. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s just…it’s a good look on you, Evans.” “What is?” she asks, self-consciously. His grin widens. “Mischief.”

sidewalk chalk, covered in snow

She didn’t mean to get used to any of them.

or: Lily Evans is strictly anti-Marauders…until she isn't. one by one.

waiting for the light to take us in

James removes his glasses again. “Evans…” He searches for something to say and settles on, “You don’t even like flying.”

“I could like flying,” Lily says, shrugging. “I like you.”

He doesn’t take that bait in the way she wants, and her heart sinks just a bit more. Instead, he chews at his lip, considering and considering and considering some more. Lily wants to scream.

A reminder that even though it seems like others may have it harder, you deserve a break too.

Questions and Answers by lizardcookie (on ao3)

The simple question of whether or not they're dating doesn't exactly have a simple answer. Seventh Year Jily.

A Very Sick Dear by Nostalgicdragonfly (on ao3)

It's a very rare disease, but James gets it anyway and he has to endure the pain of having the favorite flower of the person he loves growing in his chest. He's been hiding his struggles. Lily loves roses yet James is the one getting cut by their thorns. But when a new healer arrives and things get out of hand, a lot would depend on whether or not James accepts his only treatment.

or James has hanahaki disease

Thank You For The Music by @thelighthousestale

Lily Evans is homesick during her first year of Hogwarts. Then she hears a familiar tune.

Erasmus Lovegoods’s Guide to Brewing Love Potions also by @ /thelighthousetale

At the start of every school year, the Ministry of Magic distributed leaflets to all students taking potions classes regarding the regulations and legality of highly controlled potions.

Lily Evans thought the Ministry would probably have more success in decreasing illegal potions brewing on the castle grounds if they didn’t give such detailed instructions about the potions in its published propaganda literature.

Of course, every year's most popular leaflet was the one warning about the dangers of brewing love potions.

Or how an accidental explosion in NEWT-level potions finally forced Lily and James to confront their feelings.

falling into place by @charmingwillow

Lily overhears something that maybe she shouldn't have.. things sort of happen from there.

Limbo by Random-Musings (on ff.net)

Lily's sour Hogsmeade weekend takes an unexpected turn.

The next few fics are all from it's about the Gazing collection by @firefeufuego. I recommend this collection to my friend who doesn’t read jily and the first fic alone had her texting me "I get why you love them so much and I also get why you want James Potter"

(get on out of your seat) all eyes on me

As James stops to catch his breath, he also catches Lily’s eye, already fixed on him in the blatant, unblinking way he hasn’t seen since she used to verbally eviscerate him for minutes on end. It hits with the same mortifying heat as it always did then, when he used to stand there watching her yell at him and imagine her mouth doing everything else. He’s ridiculously grateful for whoever throws the ball straight towards his face for saving him from the fate of just standing there, watching her watch him with his dry mouth open for the rest of eternity.

In a movement of pure reflex, he grabs the ball out of the air and starts back towards the end of the pitch before Orie comes out of nowhere and takes his legs out from under him. Winded and disoriented, James sighs at the universe’s rather unsubtle visual metaphor. Is it even worth getting up again when he just keeps falling and falling and falling for her?

(soft spoken in the dead of night) all eyes on you

Lily has watched him do this multiple times before and it’s just tea and it’s just James and there should be nothing special about this particular moment, except that the sight of him, the fact of him, is suddenly earth-shattering.

Something like nostalgia fills her in a flood, only it’s the future she’s longing for, a future she can see with absolute clarity. The features James inherited from his parents are so faithfully recreated on him that it’s easy to imagine him at their age, with a shock of white, still unfairly thick hair framing a face lined by a lifetime of laughter, making her a cup of tea exactly the way she likes it and smiling as she teases him.

Don't be fooled by the summery, this is pure self indulgent smut. I complain a lot about pretentious people but the Austen and Keats reference had me swooning. The myth of Eros and Psyche is probably one of my favorites so…

in the morning when i wake or the morning after

With trembling hands, James brings the smaller piece of parchment closer to his face and starts to read.

To the love of my life,

You idiot. Get back here.I’ll be in your room.

Lily.

Surface Pressure by @eastwindmlk

Lily dealing with the weight of her own expectations in 7th year

no, i could never give you peace by @kay-elle-cee

James blinks. “Are you breaking up with me, Evans?” he jokes softly, resting his hand on hers. It’s a joke, but her body tenses and it immediately puts him on edge. The silence that follows is excruciating.

“I’m not doing anything.” Her nails begin to tap on the mug again—a nervous habit that James spots immediately. “I just think we should have a conversation.”

Trust Kels to serve Order!jily angst and pair it with one of my favourite songs of all time

bury it and rise above by @startanewdream

"James? Do you believe in magic?"

Or Lily is a Witch. James is a Muggle. It's not easier.

When It's You by idreamofjily (on ao3)

James is naturally affectionate and Lily really isn't. But maybe she can make an exception, if the way her stomach drops every time James touches her is any indication.

desiderium by @missgryffin

Sometimes all it takes is champagne and a slow dance, and then there's no going back.

The Vow also by @ /missgryffin

When he was thirteen-going-on-fourteen, James Potter did something truly, unbelievably stupid. Now that he’s seventeen-going-on-eighteen, he has to deal with the consequences.

Accidental Magic also by @ /missgryffin

What else is there to do after confessing feelings in the middle of the night than spend a lazy Saturday in bed?

Are You Experienced? by @annabtg

James Potter decides to ask Lily Evans to a Muggle live music show. This noble mission, however, requires a series of steps he is entirely clueless about: from procuring the tickets to finding the correct outfit, and most importantly, to spending an evening with Lily Evans without making an absolute fool of himself.

Also including the gorgeous cover art by @constancezin

by the lake by @possessingtheproperspirit

james finds lily by the lake.

not in need of a knight by @thejilyship

“If they start something, I’m going to finish it.” James said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And if it ends with you in the hospital wing?” “What do you care?” “Do you really think I’d bother to argue with you so much if I didn’t care?” Lily said, breathing sharply through her teeth.

#lily evans #james potter #jily #lames #jple #jily fic rec list

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atiny-for-life · 7 months ago

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Ateez and KQ Entertainment - A Summary - UPDATED!

When it comes to K-Pop companies, anyone who's been a fan of any group for a while will know the majority of them are awful, greedy, and will sacrifice the health and safety of their artists for profit in a heartbeat. It's an awful industry built on the backs of underpaid, overworked young people who've been shamed and exploited since they were trainees and oftentimes bullied into plastic surgery, eating disorders, and mentally damaging competition with their peers. Many idols end up with chronic health issues, especially heart problems, long before they'll ever reach the average retirement age.

So what about KQ? Are they any different? Should we view them as one of them? Or are they an outlier like 1Verse's label SingingBeetle (founded by former SM employee Michelle Cho)?

Side note, and for the sake of completeness: After the group Block B, all its members including their parents, were exploited by their former agency Stardom Entertainment, KQ created an agency (called Seven Seasons) solely for Block B so they could continue activities. Unfortunately, back then, this was a job they were definitely not prepared for. There was mismanaging going on and Block B fans don't look upon that time fondly. Since then most, if not all, members have also eventually stopped renewing their contracts.

However, these days, we've got Ateez, Xikers, Maddox, Eden and everyone else under the company refer to KQ as a family. Why is that? Let's gather what we know.

The Beginning: Accepting Hongjoong as a trainee

Most Atinys will already know the story of how Hongjoong joined KQ as their first ever trainee back in 2015. He's shared this story many times over the years (recent examples: Zach Sang Show interview, K-Star Next Door, I.M on the Beat interview, T-TIME : Grrrgak!) but for those who've never heard it, here's a summary of how it went down:

Hongjoong wanted to make music so he put a bunch of self-composed songs on a mixtape and sent it to several companies, including the big three. His reason for targeting KQ specifically was his love of Block B's music, which made him disregard the fact that KQ wasn't looking to sign anyone else. In fact, they were only a management agency at the time so they weren't even in a position to accept trainees.

Regardless, he sent the tape together with a letter, telling them they should reach out and contact him if they'd like to work with him. Whoever received that letter at KQ tossed it aside, unopened, and a year went by. The company then moved buildings and, while packing up, someone came across the tape and letter.

Intrigued, they listened to it (untrained rap and all) and heard the potential, which led the CEO to make a judgment call and give Hongjoong a chance. KQ called him to ask if he still wanted to do music. Of course, Hongjoong said yes and took the risk of signing with them.

Ateez's lives as trainees under KQ

While it was Hongjoong's music school principal who initially gave him the idea of not just being a songwriter but also an idol, it was KQ who further encouraged him.

However, as their first ever trainee, Hongjoong had a difficult time. First, with Eden initially trying to push him to quit music because KQ had put him in charge of training Hongjoong as a producer and Eden had zero interest and training to be a teacher. (Of course, those feelings didn't last too long and Hongjoong wormed his way into Eden's heart fairly quickly.)

But even without that, he struggled with being lonely because most other trainees who walked into the practice room, never stayed. Additionally, KQ was quite poor at the time, so Hongjoong only ate fried rice most of the time which he quickly grew tired of. Many of you may remember this story from Hongjoong's mother's letter shared in this video last year:

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In late June 2024, during a live, Hongjoong also shared he was diagnosed with two separate conditions during his trainee days, orthostatic hypotension (drop in blood pressure when standing up or sitting down which leads to fainting) and vasovagal syncope (fainting caused by triggers such as emotional distress, the sight of blood, etc.) which he's learned to manage since. However, this was something he forced himself to learn to deal alone since he didn't want to worry the company or others.

During these early days, KQ was broke and Ateez had a food budget (which they sometimes maxed out, leading Hongjoong to pretend he was dieting and push the others to use his budget for themselves) and weren't allowed to use their phones in the dorms, likely to discourage them from getting distracted and sleeping too little but, aside from Hongjoong, no one seems to have followed that rule. See, the famous clip of Hongjoong talking about being salty when he discovered Seonghwa's two hidden phones:

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However, KQ famously never enforced any sort of dating ban unlike most other companies which later gave us one of the funniest headlines of all time:

And they were also some of the first idols who proudly showed off their tattoos while many others were still banned from even getting them.

Ultimately, they already went viral predebut thanks to their outstanding dancing and Jongho's ability to split apples with his bare hands while singing.

Something I can't source but remember: Yunho, I believe, once shared the practice room used to be tiny and in terrible condition before they moved to a bigger building right before San joined the company.

It's also of note that Yeosang and Wooyoung left Hybe to sign with KQ and Jongho, who suffered significantly while being a trainee under TopMedia (alongside Kim Wooseok whom he's still friends with), has decided to rejoin the industry after taking a prolonged break from it all, presumably to recover and reevaluate his decision to be an idol. And boy, should we all be glad he chose to try again.

Investing in and defending Ateez

During their trainee days, KQ flew Ateez (plus their then maknae, who wasn't ready to debut in 2018 and presumably moved on to another company) out to LA where they received rigorous dance training so they could become the performance group we all know and love today. They documented the whole thing here:

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Something worth noting about this time is: they've been consistently providing English subtitles for all their content which was definitely a huge contributor in how much more popular they've always been overseas compared to domestically.

In an attempt to get Ateez more exposure, KQ took the financial risk of paying for Ateez's participation in Kingdom: Legendary War all the way back in 2021 which was, honestly, a hellish time for the fandom - even KQ acknowledged that in a lawsuit they filed against some false rumors being spread about Ateez around the time, stating:

However, we have decided that the current situation, in which false information is misunderstood as true, can damage not only our artists’ reputation which has been achieved through hard work but also our fans' mental health, who are our artists' biggest supporters.

Participation in the program was deeply exhausting for Ateez (who were without Mingi at the time - more on that in a bit), but did prove worthwhile when it garnered them a significant amount of new fans thanks to their positive attitude regarding the competition which had the vibe of "We're just here to make friends and put on a great show."

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Regarding this part of their history, it should be noted that, in the wake of Kingdom: Legendary War, additionally information came out, exposing severe mistreatment of Ateez at the hands of Mnet:

After constant disrespect, a Korean Atiny [...] made a lengthy post of all the times Mnet had treated the K-pop group poorly. The final straw might have been Ateez not getting a single nomination for any award on Mnet's award show, MAMA 2021, despite the channel calling them ‘performance kings’. On top of it, fans found it humiliating that Ateez, the only group that was not nominated, performed at the award show too. [...] Korean Atinys claimed that Mnet’s staff would scream at Ateez while filming their reality shows. They were not told about the venues where they would be performing like the outdoor festival event and their makeup room was the smallest during the ‘Kingdom’ shoot. While other participating groups were given sofas, Ateez members were given stiff office chairs.

However, this is not something to blame KQ for - Mnet is famously hated by all idols and is even known to mistreat Hybe artists, who are far more influential. They abuse the power they hold over all artists since everyone depends on them for promotions. One company alone, especially one on the small side, doesn't have the power to take them on. It'd take collective action on all companies' parts.

In the year that followed, 2022, KQ sued an infamous gossip YouTuber, who'd been spreading lies and rumors about idols for years, reaching all the way back to first gen idols. Even other fandoms cheered on KQ at the time for finally doing something against her.

Excerpt from the article:

The YouTuber has been criticized in the past for starting false rumors about idols. NMIXX‘s Sullyoon, BTS‘s Jungkook and RM, actress Han So Hee, And NCT‘s Jisung are just a few of the celebrities the YouTuber has targeted. According to reports, the person behind the Sojang YouTube account has been actively writing about rumors since K-Pop’s first generation. Before YouTube, the netizen had been active on online communities, Facebook, and Twitter. According to reports, it is believed that Sojang is a woman in her mid-to-late forties. This isn’t the first time the YouTuber has been sued. EXO member Xiumin has previously sued her, and BTS’s V had threatened to sue the YouTuber last December.

Again in 2022, they also took strong legal action when a tracking device was placed on one of Ateez's cars, stating "The defendant asked for leniency, but the company has not agreed to any leniency or settlement to prevent further damage and set a precedent for those who think of downplaying privacy violation offenses."

KQ has also proven themselves willing to back their artists' personal dreams financially, like when they paid for Hongjoong's non-profit photo exhibition which gathered money for charity and supported his wish to have a busking event, and got Seonghwa to meet his favorite ASMR YouTuber.

Recently (June 2024), Hongjoong also shared they're now getting paid extra incentives, as of last year (2023), as a thank you for all they've done for the company and the sum doesn't seem to be all that small.

Of course, there are also the most tangible and noticeable investments: creative marketing both locally and overseas, high quality music videos, regular vocal and performance training, booking music show and interview appearances and, notably, appearances on platforms outside the usual K-Pop sphere, i.e. React in 2019.

Ateez and the rest of KQ - family relationships?

We all know that famous clip of DJ Yunho calling KQ the best best company while Wooyoung's trying not to choke on his laughter:

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And we also know Ateez and their respective families all get along - all their parents seem to have become friends and adopted the rest of the Ateez members as their own kids. Especially Wooyoung seems to call everyone's parents "mom" and "dad" and San's dad is deeply invested in everyone's health and well being. Hongjoong has even involved his brother before to help him choreograph for his MAMA performance.

Outside their immediate family, they all also have a group chat as Ateez with their CEO where he refers to them as his kids and he also watches their lives sometimes, attends concerts, etc.. Someone made a compilation here back in 2022 but they still imitate and quote him to this day:

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And it's not just their CEO, they all seem to really love their managers and vice versa with this guy going viral for his adoration of Yeosang on multiple occasions and this clip between Wooyoung and his manager going viral more than once. You can find many compilations of the dynamics between Ateez and their staff but here's an example.

And here's an example of how Xikers and their staff treat each other (spoiler: it's adorable chaos).

We've also seen the hair and make up staff goof around with them and we also know how close they are with B.B.Trippin, the dance crew who create the majority of their choreos, who've been fostering an unbroken relationship with KQ since the early days due to their ties with Block B.

Today, they continue to tour with Ateez despite how sought after they are by other companies with JM, their leader, even stating in response to the question "What are your favorite groups to choreograph for?":

"Of course it’s ATEEZ! Right now I’m not making the choreography myself, I’m only working as the general director. But I’ve been with ATEEZ since the members were first together and we talk a lot, so we fit well and I like working with them."

And, of course, we know how close they all, but especially Hongjoong, are with Edenary and Maddox from not just Ateez's content, but also Maddox's:

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How KQ handles health issues

In the beginning, Ateez were severely discriminated against in the industry, as is true for all groups of small companies. As a result, they pushed themselves extra hard during what limited performance time they had in order to leave an impression and slowly grow their Korean fanbase. To quote Mingi: "When we just debuted, we were known for the madness."

During their first tour in 2019, Yeosang broke his finger during a performance and set it again by himself without ever leaving the stage or even slowing down.

Seonghwa, in an equally bonkers move during the same tour, cracked his ribs while coughing and still chose to perform. At the end of Hala Hala, when they all pretend to snap their necks and collapse, his rib kept him from being able to get back up, leaving Yunho and Yeosang to basically carry him off stage.

After those incidents, KQ became far more vigilant and ensured Ateez watches their health and safety more closely, with Seonghwa sitting out a performance in 2020 due to an injury. Their statement stating:

During a recent modern dance lesson, Seonghwa experienced pain near his hip joint. He went for an examination at a medical clinic specializing in that area, and he has been diagnosed with a mild sprain. While it is a minor injury, he has been advised by the medical team to avoid intense movement for about two weeks, in order to avoid the worsening or relapse of the injury. Therefore, Seonghwa will only be taking part in the Meet & Greet segment of ‘KCON:TACT 2020 Summer’ on June 26, and it would be difficult for him to take part in the performance.

In November of 2020, the same year, roughly two years after debut, Mingi developed some severe anxiety which led to him getting tested and diagnosed before he went on a (back then) indefinite hiatus to get rest and regain stability in his life.

During this time, he didn't participate in any public activities but stayed in close contact with all the members and even San's dad who checked in on him regularly since he's San's dad's favorite.

He returned in mid-2021 after about half a year of intermittent schedules to get back in the swing of things and under the clearance of his therapist. His mind was made up that he wanted to keep on doing this and he seemed happy to be back:

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Jongho, too, had a more severe injury in August 2023 and needed to get surgery to fix it. Thankfully he, too, recovered fully after a hiatus that lasted a couple of months which was followed by him sitting on a chair side-stage during performances for quite some time until his knee was fully healed.

More recently, we've also heard Seonghwa share that they used to struggle severely while touring, even requiring oxygen masks backstage to keep themselves going, which led the CEO to put together a team of pro athlete trainers to ensure Ateez can physically meet the demands of the industry without sacrificing their health any further.

Most recently, it was Wooyoung who needed to sit out for a bit when he developed cholinergic uriticaria. Thankfully, he's already back in the swing of things as well and has recently shared in an interview that his condition has been improving steadily since the first massive flare up after Coachella (though swelling in his face is still noticeable to them all when he exercises/dances for long periods of time).

Most Common Criticisms of KQ

1 - Ateez are overworked!

This is undeniably true for all successful idols. It's a brutal, brutal industry and unless all companies slow down, there is no way to take time off without being forgotten and losing out on future opportunities because a lot of fans are quick to move on whenever a group disappears for a bit. Many don't even stick around for more than one comeback to begin with.

Especially during the end of the year award period, all idols are deeply overworked which is why we saw Ateez get time off around early April. They also take breaks for holidays and Hongjoong has said before that they're adults and know what they're doing when a fan told him they're being overworked (I wish I could find the clip right now).

I also remember Seonghwa saying during an interview that KQ never makes decisions without talking them through with Ateez so they understand each other's reasoning and no decisions get made over their heads (once again, I wish I could find the damn clip but all I remember is Seonghwa had longer black hair and his outfit and the set were kept in black, white and gray tones).

2 - KQ is controlling!

If you've read the whole post, you'll already know Ateez have a lot of freedom compared to other idols, especially now. They get to do lives without supervision, pursue solo projects (including quality music videos for their covers and original songs), Yeosang was an MC for The Show for a long time where he got to show off solo, while Yunho and Hongjoong got to be Idol Radio DJs for a long time where they got to be mentors, show off as dancers and make new friends. On top of that, Yunho, Jongho, San and Seonghwa all four starred in a drama (with Yunho being a co-lead) criticizing the abuse and mistreatment idols face in the industry which Ateez reference to this day.

Hongjoong also gets to work with Xikers now, giving them guidance Ateez surely wished they'd had in their early days, and he even collaborated with Chungha on her first album in her new agency, while Wooyoung got to work on a dance passion project with Watcha which was close to his heart just last year.

On top of all of that, they get to goof around constantly while a lot of bigger names in the industry have much more scripted content. We've also heard Ateez be extremely honest with fans when it comes to their well-being, including when they're tired or struggling. They've even told stalker fans off on live with zero consequences from the company on multiple occasions.

Their freedom goes double when it comes to their music where we know all members get to participate in both the song and choreography from recording all the way to live performance. Just recently, Hongjoong openly fired shots at the former CEO of Hybe in a collab song with Odetari and, when prompted for a statement, KQ simply said they had "no comment".

3 - Wooyoung and Yeosang don't get enough lines!

From an outsider's perspective, this is true. However, we don't know what's going on behind the scenes outside of what they tell us. For example, Hongjoong shared just recently that all members sing the whole song and then lines get distributed based on who suits which parts best.

It's also worth mentioning that the distribution is balancing out more and more over time. A trend which will surely continue now that both Wooyoung and Yeosang have released more covers to flex their vocals and 'Will - The World' included sub-units so they could all show off and try out writing lyrics for themselves.

In Conclusion

I think, when it comes to Ateez, a lot of fans who raise concerns about KQ don't look at the bigger picture or lack some of the information needed to make a fair judgment. Though there is, of course, also absolutely valid criticism.

Please be aware I'm definitely not saying "Be a company stan, they deserve it!". The primary focus should always be on the artists themselves, not the people managing the funds in the background, but what I am saying is: "Trust Ateez."

There are so many idols out there who hate their companies, who are on the brink of collapse from exhaustion (P1harmony, NCT Dream, Enhypen, to name a few) and it's noticeable. They say it, they want fans to create a ruckus and demand better treatment, but Ateez isn't one of them.

All eight are very outspoken people and, from what we've seen and heard, so are their families. If KQ weren't full of decent people, Ateez wouldn't involve their siblings and parents in projects, they wouldn't so frequently bring up receiving gifts from their CEO, be so full of love and praise for their managers and staff, or willingly praise the company so regularly.

There have definitely been instances where trending hashtags were justified, such as when there was lacking airport security because KQ had underestimated how many people would show up to welcome them, but there's a lot of unjustified complaining going on as well which can be easily debunked.

I hope this roundup of base information will help some people get a clearer picture of what the company dynamic is like so everyone can come to their own conclusions.

Regarding recent rumors:

In the light of recent events, I'd like to say that I can't find proper evidence that Hybe Entertainment ever tried to buy up KQ, but it's clear that the relationship between the two companies is horrid, and very justifiably so on KQ's part.

After Hybe bought up Vlive, Ateez and Xikers moved to streaming on YouTube and KQ entirely separated ties with Weverse soon after by launching TOKTOQ in partnership with bemyfriends which Xikers also moved to.

This happened in the wake of Hybe buying up SM Entertainment and forcing SM artists to move over to Weverse.

In essence, it's very, very, extremely obvious that Hybe is trying to build up a monopoly. They already own a shit-ton of labels, including Pledis (Seventeen's label), Belift (Enhypen's label), and KOZ (Zico/BoyNextDoor's label), and now also one of their formerly biggest competitors, SM Entertainment.

Again, Hybe trying to buy KQ was never documented anywhere, it was just a rumor without a clear source, but I wouldn't be surprised if they did try at some point or another to get rid of yet another competitor.

#ateez #kq entertainment #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho

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familyvideostevie · 1 year ago

Text

a kind of hunger | chapter 1

joel miller x fem!reader

series masterlist

joel miller walks into your life just as it starts to fall apart. surely some hot nights with the bar's newest regular can't hurt, right?

length: 9.2k

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, unspecified age gap, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), doggy style, missionary, slightly painful sex, dirty talk, size kink if you squint, joel is a liiiiiiiitle mean if you squint, general feelings of loneliness and angst from r in her free time

a/n: huge thank you to @strangerfreaks without whom this would never have gotten off the ground. also to all the joel writers on this site, i love you, i am in awe of you. please allow me to give it a go myself <3

navigation | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀

The first time you sleep with Joel Miller you know it won't be the last.

But that's not where this story starts.

It starts in a bar. Nothing special about it, really. Staffed half by college kids who come and go, half by drifters who, for some reason, stopped drifting once they found this dimly lit, sticky-floored hole in the wall. Not quite a local institution but not forgettable, never totally empty. It's got pool tables and a jukebox but also clean bathrooms aside from the graffiti and two new-ish TVs showing whatever the first guy who gets there wants to watch.

Point is, you work there. One of those drifters who stopped drifting. The guy who owns it, some crotchety old fuck called Bill, rents you the apartment above the bar for a decent price considering it's loud until 2am on the weekends and midnight all the other days. Loud enough that even on nights you don't work it feels like you're there anyway. But you get used to it. It's called Frank's, which you don't totally understand, but you're not about to ask questions of the guy who has finally allowed you to slow down and take a breath who is also your boss and landlord.

You've worked there long enough to have learned the names and orders of all the regulars who've been coming in since long before you walked through the door and to have seen some new regulars enter the rotation. In truth, you've worked there long enough to basically be running the place. It's still the bar in your head, not your bar because getting attached will do you no good. This is how it always goes: you care too much but it never seems like anyone cares back. You cut and run before you can be disappointed and you’ve already been here longer than you’d expected to be because it’s something close to comfortable.

Almost no one messes with you despite being younger than most of the clientele and on the off chance some frat boy from the city decides to take a cheap shot you've got a small army of imposing customers on your side. Between them and your coworkers, it's almost like you're not alone.

Almost.

The hours you spend away from the bar are spent alone. You don't have many numbers in your phone and the ones you do you don't call. You go on drives in the shitty truck you bought off some guy when you moved here. You browse used bookstores and suffer the heat of the day on long walks and wonder if this is all there is. You think of what it might be like to feel something other than rootless.

One thing that helps is…sex. Being close to someone for even a little while, letting yourself be seen in a way that doesn’t require you to totally show your hand. You try not to make a habit of actually fucking your clientele. It can get messy quickly, guys coming in and expecting more than a good pour. Being offended when you don't give them a free round, don't make eyes at them over the oiled wood. It's easier to be alone, that much you've learned. It's easier and it's simpler and it means you've only got yourself to blame for the hurt you sometimes feel laying in bed, staring at the ceiling as some rock song thrums up through the floor.

And if you do fuck someone from the bar, you keep it simple. You do, however, try really hard not to sleep with regulars. And no staying over. A classic, unspoken rule of sleeping with strangers that you rarely verbalize but make sure to enforce every time. It keeps things neat. The last thing you need is mess. Who knows how long you'll stay in this town, in this little apartment and this shitty bar. You've got a lot of years left, a lot of years you should probably spend in classrooms or an office or falling in love with some nice guy with a nice family who can give you a nice life.

But you're here.

And then, one day, so is Joel.

Being a good bartender is memorization, paying attention, and keeping a level head. You know how to make pretty much any drink even though your regulars are mostly the simple beer or Jack and Coke kind of people. You swear you can tell when a glass is going to fall a second before it shatters, spot a punch before it can be thrown. So you notice when a man you've never seen before walks through the door.

You notice how the energy of the room changes, how multiple pairs of eyes follow him as he settles at the end of the half-full bar. Dark hair shot through with grey, green shirt rolled up over chorded forearms that he rests on the wood. It feels like you should know him but you don't. You've never seen him before.

You finish pouring beers for some giggly girls before making your way over to him. His eyes track you.

You wonder what he'll order. A shot, maybe, based on the tense line of his shoulders. Or a dark beer. Maybe something strong. You hope he won't be one of those guys you have to peel off the bar in a few hours. "Can I get you something?"

"Whiskey, rocks," he says. You can hear the Texas drawl even from so few words. Deep, low, measured. "Cheapest you got."

For some reason, it feels like he's returning and you're the new one. "Wanna start a tab?"

"I'll do cash at the end," he says. Ah, one of those. Guy getting away from his wife, maybe. Tough day at work. Doesn't want to leave tracks. You can relate to that.

"Joel fuckin’ Miller," one of your regulars says as you turn to grab a glass. He claps the man -- Joel -- on the shoulder. "Heard you were back up this way," he says. "Good to see you, man."

Joel simply inclines his head once like he's not thrilled to be recognized. The dismissal is clear. And, weirdest of all, it works. You've seen insults hurled between friends for less.

You set his drink down, the amber liquid sloshing around the ice.

"Thanks," he mutters. The dismissal is...less clear, but you've got other customers to tend to. And Joel doesn't seem particularly chatty.

Your eyes return to him for the next hour or so but he never waves you over for another round. Heat trails up and down your spine and you have to tell yourself that he's not watching you. That would be too optimistic, right? At one point you take a bathroom break and when you're back he's gone, wrinkled bills stacked under the glass. Enough for his drink and a decent tip.

Joel comes in three more times over the next month before you sleep with him. Each time he orders the same drink, leaves the same tip. He sits alone at the bar, occasionally saying hello when someone approaches but no one ever sits next to him. He's gruff but only ever polite to you, doesn't get impatient when it takes you a minute to get to him.

And he's really something to look at. The tick in his jaw, the veins in his neck. His skin is tanned, dotted with small scars that must come from a lifetime of hard work. He wears a watch and jeans that hug his ass in an almost indecent way, a way that has you watching him when he's not on a stool. Sometimes you catch him smirking to himself when there's some shit going on at the bar, gossip or people being loud for no reason. You wonder what his laugh sounds like and scold yourself for it. No harm in looking but there's the possibility of harm in thinking too much. You know better.

The third time he comes in is a bad night. It's busy for some reason and everyone is a fucking asshole. You weren't even supposed to work tonight but one of the seasonal kids had banged on your door begging you to come help, promising you all the tips for tonight if you did. You knew it would make you look good to Bill and despite yourself, you didn’t want to leave them hanging, so here you are, sweaty and pissed and smelling like beer, doing your best to empty the dishwasher in between drink orders and praying the keg doesn't need changing.

You don't even notice when Joel comes in, only spotting him once he's managed to scare some college kid from a seat at the bar. For some reason, his presence makes you a little calmer in the chaos.

"Be with you in a sec, Joel," you say to him when you're near. You don't call him by his name since he never actually introduced himself to you but it slips out in the rush. His nostrils flare but you don't have time to linger on it even as you feel the hot weight of his gaze.

"No rush."

You manage to get him what you know by now to be his usual only to be called over by your least favorite customer of the night as soon as he's thanked you.

"Honey," the asshole says. This fucker's name is Seth and he's a pain in your ass. "Gimme another, will you? Make it a heavy pour." This would be his fifth and he's already slurring his words.

"Don't think so," you tell him firmly. "I'm cutting you off for tonight, Seth." He's liable to start some shit or at the very least throw up on the floor and you don't want to deal with either. You don't have time to deal with either.

His bloodshot eyes narrow and he slams a fist on the bar. You manage not to flinch, though pretty much everyone else does. "That's not good fucking service, sweetcheeks," he leers.

"Good thing I don't give a fuck," you snap. "Get the fuck out of here before you do something you regret, sweetcheeks.” The venom in your tone seems to surprise him before sheer rage takes over. You've thrown out plenty of assholes in your time here but it's not always a smooth experience.

Seth leans forward over the bar, reaches for you -- to do what, you have no idea -- and you prepare yourself to yell for backup and then kick him out for good and maybe get a punch in as he goes. His fingers manage to hook in your shirtsleeve before a hand closes around his wrist.

Before Seth can scream he's got his outstretched arm behind his back, face twisted in pain. Behind him is --

Joel?

The bar is almost silent. You can hear a few whispers over the blood pumping in your ears.

"I'd get out of here if I were you," Joel hisses. He glances at you, jaw tight and eyes narrowed. Are you okay? he seems to be asking. You nod.

Seth whimpers. "Let me go," he says weakly.

"Just gonna show you the door." Joel all but drags him through the parting crowd.

"Jesus," someone says behind you. One of the seasonal kids. "You okay?"

"I'm taking my break." You leave the kid behind the bar to fend for himself and barrel into the back and through the side door into the alley where you always take your 15. It's one of those weird cold fall nights, just the wrong side of chilly to be here without a jacket but you left it in the bar office.

The milk carton you sit on has been turned over so you kick it back with a thud and slump down onto it. The light above the door flickers. "This shit is getting old," you say to no one. You kick aside cigarette butts that aren't yours and wonder how long you can do this. What would be next, anyway? You've got a laundry list of failed dreams and no one wondering if you're going to make something of yourself. Long nights at a bar you care about more than you should and rowdy customers and handsome men who barely say a word to you can't last forever, can it? Would anyone here even notice if you left?

The door flies open, startling you out of your thoughts.

Joel steps into the alley. Somehow he manages to yet again look like he was meant to be here and you're the one who is out of place. You blink at him and he stares back like he wasn't sure he'd find you here.

"Got lost?" you ask. "Pretty sure you know where the front door is."

He lets the metal door swing shut and crosses his arms. "Was lookin' for you."

That catches you by surprise. "Why?"

Joel shrugs, a small lift of his shoulders. His expression doesn't budge. "Sorry for makin' trouble."

Oh, right. Seth. You wave him off. "Just another night," you say. "I'd have handled it." You stand from the crate and lean against the brick wall. It's true. Seth isn't the first asshole you've handled.

"I bet you would've," Joel mutters. He takes one step closer. You're reminded all at once how good-looking he is, how you've wondered what his hands would feel like on your skin. There's no way he's ever thought of you, right? You're just some girl who pours him drinks, too young and too forgettable. He was just having a man moment, wanting to save the day or some shit like that.

"I don't have a cigarette or anything if you want to smoke," you say. This close he doesn't smell like tobacco but you don't know what else to say. "Sorry."

"So you just sit in alleys on your break for fun?"

"I like this alley," you say, suddenly a bit defensive. "It's a nice alley." You take a step towards him. He uncrosses his arms and his hands flex at his sides. You shiver. "No one bothers me out here."

Joel tilts his head to the side. "That so?" His eyes are dark under the dim light. When did he get so close? When did your face get so hot?

"Except guys who drink whiskey on the rocks, I guess," you say. It comes out much softer than you'd like, your voice cracking. The air doesn't have the same bite as it did seconds ago. Joel's expression hovers between something you recognize and something you don't, something you desperately want to figure out. "Good thing I don't mind." The adrenaline from the small altercation hasn't left and the swirl of emotions about your whole shitty life has you on edge, has you wanting to play with fire.

You're so close now that you can feel his breath on your face, feel the heat of him in the still night. Joel's eyes rake over your face, looking for something, something you try very hard to show him so that he might fucking do it, meet the want that is suddenly uncontrollable halfway, or at least tell you if he's not interested so you can --

Your name is a groan in his throat and then he's kissing you. His palm cups the back of your head as he presses you into the wall, his other hand firm on your hip, fingertips pressing into your skin through your shirt hard enough to bruise. He tastes like the whiskey you served him. You fist one hand in his collar and wind the other into his hair.

Joel controls the kiss but you give as good as you get. He licks into your mouth and you suck on his lower lip. His beard rubs against your face in a delicious burn and when you tug on his hair he makes a noise you must hear again. The brick behind you scrapes a bit but you hardly notice when he presses against you, slides a thigh between your legs and you feel him hard through his jeans.

"S'not right, you lookin' so good yellin' at that asshole," he grumbles into your neck, teeth nipping at your pulse. You cant your hips and he hisses.

"Speak for yourself," you manage. "Always got your eyes on me, don't you?" It feels like a risk to call him on it. Control of the situation is slipping from your grasp, this man who you never thought would actually touch you now holding you in his arms, his lips on your skin. He pulls back from your neck and smirks, eyes dark.

"'Spose I do."

You can work with that. You surge forward to kiss him again and this time he lets you call the shots while still meeting your bruising caresses with his own.

"Joel." You tug on his hair.

He makes that noise again.

It might be five minutes, it might be an hour. You have no idea. All you know is you can still feel his cock through the denim and you're so turned on you might combust in this alley. Or at the very least let him fuck you in it.

"I don't close tonight," you pant. One of Joel's hands has worked its way into your back pocket and the other has rucked up your shirt to rest on your bare back.

"What?" he growls.

"My shift. I'm off at 11." You tap his watch. He glances at it and sees it read 10:30. "Half hour. I live upstairs."

For a second you think he'll say no. Walk away with a nod of his head and out of your life forever. Wouldn't be the first, wouldn't be the last. You're already breaking one of your rules by even considering sleeping with him but there's just something about him. The way he looks at you, the way his hands feel on your skin. You want to know what he'll feel like inside you. Maybe you’re still in this town because you were waiting for him to walk through the door.

"Alright," he says. He clears his throat and releases you. You fuss with your hair and straighten your shirt and he adjusts himself in his jeans. "Half hour." His dark eyes narrow as he glances down the alley back towards the street.

"Take a walk around the block or something," you tell him, swallowing the urge to laugh at him so handsome and disheveled from your hands. Never in a million years would you have predicted that tonight would go this way. "My door is on the other side of the building. I'll let you up."

The urge to flatten the damage your hands did to his hair is so overwhelming for a second that you step away from him towards the door. His eyes follow you, expression unreadable. How many nights would it take for you to know what he's thinking? Careful, you think, or you'll be tempted to find out.

Joel watches you until you give him a little wave and slip back into the bar. The metal door clangs shut behind you and you lean against it, knees still wobbly. Is this actually happening? Are you really this overwhelmed by making out with some guy in an alley? You check the clock on the wall and curse. Your break ended ten minutes ago though since no one came looking for you it's probably no big deal. Being mostly in charge has its perks.

The bar is a little less crowded than when you left so you grab a rag and start wiping down the bar. Joel's seat is empty, his glass gone.

"Oh, hey," the seasonal kid says. "That guy, uh, Joel? He said to make sure you get this." He pulls out Joel's usual tip from his apron and holds it out to you.

Considering you're planning to go upstairs and fuck him until you can't walk, you don't feel like taking his tip tonight. "It's yours," you say. "Thanks for handling everything while I was out back." The kid blinks at you but knows better than to refuse, pocketing the cash and going back to loading the dishwasher.

You finish your shift. Your blood feels electric, your skin hot. Can anyone in this bar tell what happened in the alley? You haven't felt this way about a hookup in ages. Like you were wanted, not just convenient. It's just one night, right? Maybe he'll never come to the bar again, which makes your chest tighten for a second. Maybe you're about to ruin something you don't totally understand. But you haven't gotten this far in life by worrying about shit like that, so you clock out and wave goodbye and make your way to the other side of the building.

Joel isn't there. You unlock the door to the stairwell so you can at least wait for him inside when you hear footsteps, the crunch of gravel under boots. You fist your key between your knuckles just in case but before you can turn around you hear your name in that Texas drawl.

"Just me," he says. You don't know if Joel Miller is capable of looking nervous but this is probably close. He shifts from one foot to the other, hands in his pockets. A thrill runs up your spine. Are you really doing this? Are you really about to bring this man up to your apartment and hope to god he does whatever you want to you?

"Come on up." Yes. Yes, you are. You give him a smile and he follows you up to the landing.

"S'loud," he mutters once you shut the door. The bar's music wasn't that loud when you were in it and up here it's a dull hum, people's voices and laughter slipping through the cracks like a TV left on a little too high in the other room. These days it's background noise to you but you figure Joel lives in a house somewhere with lots of land and open windows and silence. He seems like the type to like silence.

Jacket on the hook, shoes clumsily thrown on the mat, keys in the dish. Your normal routine except there’s a man in your living room, too. He looks around the space, hands still in his pockets. You try not to be self-conscious about your place. It's small, sure, the bedroom visible through the currently open French doors in the small living room. Your kitchen is tiny, bathroom tinier, but it's all yours. "You get used to it," you say. "I hardly mind it anymore."

"Didn't say I did," he says. You both stand there for a few moments before Joel takes two big steps and crowds you against the door, one hand on your hip and the other next to your head. "Means they won't hear us." You swallow a gasp as he drags his nose along the curve of your jaw, breath hot on your skin. You were going to ask him if you could shower first since you undoubtedly smell like sweat and beer but clearly, he doesn't mind. His tongue darts out and he sucks on your pulse point, your own hands clutching desperately at his shirt. If he moves you're sure you'll melt into a puddle on the floor. "Means you can be as loud as you want," he growls. "That sound good?"

Any breath remaining in your body rushes out and you jerk your hips to make contact with the hardness in his jeans. "Yeah," you gasp. You can feel something like a smile against your neck. "That sounds good."

It's a dynamic you don't mind stepping into -- whatever this is. Every second of your life you feel like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everyone around you to get tired. Your eyes are always on the exit, always wondering where you'll go next, what you'll leave behind this time. Even when you're fucking strangers you're always wondering how you'll get them to leave. You’re better off alone. But right here, right now, with Joel's heavy scent of sawdust and whiskey and something earthy, something grounding, in your nostrils, his hands and his mouth on you, nothing else matters. Your brain shuts off and you're just here.

You grab Joel's jaw and guide his lips back to yours. He allows it and you moan deep in your throat as he tongues back into your mouth, your own trying to give as good as you're getting. He pops the button on your jeans and you help him with frantic hands, shoving them down your hips along with your underwear so he can ghost his fingers through your coarse curls. He pulls back from the kiss to watch as he drags two fingers through your folds. Your eyes lock and he smirks as your lids flutter.

"Soaked," is all he says. You tip your head forward and rest your forehead on his shoulder.

"Don't be smug."

He huffs. "I ain't trying to sound like an asshole, but --"

"Already failed." He nips at your earlobe.

"Gotta work you open a bit, sweetheart," he says. His fingers circle your clit once, ever so slowly. Your grip on his bicep tightens and you wonder if you'll leave bruises. You hope so. "Gonna be a tight fit."

"Heard -- fuck -- that before," you gasp. Joel really fucking knows what he's doing. "I -- bed?"

"Smart girl," he says. You're pretty sure you get wetter. He pulls his fingers free but keeps a hold on your hip like he knows your knees are jelly. "Sit on the edge."

You leave your jeans and underwear behind and make your way to the bed through the French doors, sitting heavily on the quilt, knees bent and leaning on your hands behind you. Before you can say another word, Joel lowers to his knees between yours. He pries them apart even further and runs his hands up and down your thighs.

For a few seconds, you can't find the words. This man, older than you and impossibly handsome, face lined with years he's lived and hands callused with work he's done, this man that you hardly know anything about but can't get out of your mind, is on his knees before you.

"You gonna be okay down there?" is what you come up with.

"You always talk this much?" he mutters, though his mouth tugs up at the corner. Joel's forearms wrap around your legs and he tugs. You fall flat on your back in surprise and your ass almost hangs off the bed. He draws one of your legs over his shoulder and kneads the flesh of your thigh, eyes dark and jaw twitching as he spreads you open and just looks. "Might have to help me up but I think I'll be just fine."

"Joel --"

The end of his name becomes a high-pitched moan when he leans in and buries his face in your cunt. He drags his tongue up and down through your folds, nose catching your clit in a way that makes you squirm. His beard scrapes against your skin deliciously, leaving a sting that you know you'll be able to see evidence of when he's done. He laps at you before finally taking your clit in his mouth and sucking like his life depends on it. It's only his hand on your outstretched thigh keeping you from suffocating him between your legs, though you're not sure he'd mind.

"Should be a crime," he says. You look down the length of your body at him. His chin is wet with you, eyes meeting yours when he feels your stare. "Cunt this pretty tastin' so good."

How do you reply to that?

He's back at it before you can even try. Joel gets messy with it, the sounds of his attention loud and filthy. He tells you how wet you are, how good you taste, and your eyes flutter shut again.

"How're we doing?"

"Don't stop," you manage. "Just, don't stop--"

He prods your entrance with one finger. "Reckon you can take it, hmm? You're so wet it'll be easy." There's a bite to his tone, a sense of amusement mixed with awe like he can hardly believe it either.

"Two," you gasp. "I can take two." You need two, in fact. His hands are one of the few parts of him you've been able to study and you know his fingers are long, much thicker than yours and you need them to fill you up, need them to stretch you out. You need something to clench around because right now you feel like you're on the edge of the pleasure building in your core and if you don't get a release soon you'll just…just…combust.

Joel hums but you feel a second finger nudge into you. He slides them in and curls them as he goes. Your back arches off the bed.

"Dunno," he coos. "Pretty tight, sweetheart." The slight meanness to his words is in complete contrast with the gentle, attentive way he handles you. Who knew he'd be such a fucking tease.

"Well get to work, then." He scissors the digits inside of you in reply and returns to sucking on your clit. You reach down and bury your hand in his silver-streaked hair, tugging a bit harder than you intend to. Joel just moans into your cunt, the vibration making it feel like your very pelvis is rattling as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.

Sweat beads on your brow as you try to hold on. He picks up the pace and presses into your walls with his fingertips like he's looking for something. His tongue wreaks havoc on the rest of you, sucking bruises into your inner thighs when he's not abusing your clit. If this is just the foreplay you don't know how you'll survive actually fucking him. And he hasn't even asked you to touch him, hasn't shown even a hint of expectation. He's doing this to get you ready but based on the blown state of his pupils he's enjoying it almost as much as you are.

"Getting close?" he asks, breath ragged. Your skin is starting to feel deliciously raw from his beard and the hook in your belly is pulling tighter and tighter.

"Yes -- fuck -- I'm close, Joel, keep --"

His hand moves faster than before and he latches back onto your clit. Your legs start to shake and you feel your orgasm coming, it's just right there, you just need him to --

His fingers find the spot he must have been looking for and your only warning is a sharp tug on his hair and then your back arches and you come all over his face. He fingers fucks you through it and you feel it as your walls clench around him, your mouth open in a high whine as your muscles finally relax and you flop back onto the bed. Joel keeps his face in your cunt, gently lapping at your release while avoiding your sensitive clit. You push his hair back from his face and try to get your breathing under control.

He manages to get up on his own with a grunt as you pant on the bed. "Okay?" he asks. "Lookin' a little tired." You show him your middle finger and he...laughs, lips shiny with your slick. So he can laugh.

"Are you going to keep your clothes on?" you ask him. His eyes travel slowly over your bare bottom half, the redness of your thighs from his beard and the way your shirt has rucked up to the wire of your bra.

"Nah." He sits heavily on the edge of the bed to take off his boots and socks. You want to ask him if you can undress him, slowly peel off his layers button by button and explore every inch of him but you won't be able to take it if he says no so you just watch. Already you know you'll be thinking about this night for a long fucking time. The way it seems like he cares about how you're feeling, how he wants to take his time with you, how he enjoys your pleasure. It's nice. It's...making you feel wanted.

His denim button-up is tossed on the floor and he stands, shirtless, to undo his belt. The forearms and small triangle at his throat that you've been treated with thus far when he sits at the bar in no way prepared you for the rest of him. Broad shoulders, thick, muscled arms from years of hard work. Graying chest hair that travels all the way down the slight softness of his belly and in a darker trail his jeans. Your mouth waters.

"You're starin'," he says softly before unzipping his fly and pushing his jeans and boxers down in one motion.

"Taste of your own medicine." The words come out with much less bite than you intended as his cock springs free.

Well, he wasn't lying. He is big. You knew he would be based on what you felt through his pants, but seeing it is something else.

You sit up and scoot to the end of the bed to be closer. Is he really going to fit? He's bigger than anyone you've fucked before, that's for sure. A ruddy color, a little darker than his tanned chest, the tip a little lighter and already leaking. A few veins run the length of him and the hair at the base of his shaft is clearly taken care of though a little wild and a shade of deep brown that hasn't grayed much yet. His balls hang heavy, one slightly bigger than the other. He twitches under your gaze. You look up at him and wait for him to call out your staring again but instead, he's just watching you, pupils blown.

"You are...so beautiful," you breathe. He makes a dismissive noise but a flush travels up his chest and to his face. It's true. There's something about him that makes you think you could look every second for the rest of your life and not get enough.

"Should be sayin' that to you." He strokes himself once and you lick your lips. "You got a condom? Should be one in my pocket if you don't." Does he always carry one? Or did he hope to get lucky with you, just like you've been thinking about him?

"Bedside table drawer." He goes for it and you remember too late that the drawer has...other things in it, too. His eyebrows raise and he eyes your small collection of toys but says nothing, though his cock twitches again. If you asked, would he use them on you? He seems like the type to be into that. But right now you need him inside you so badly you might combust.

"Can I?" He pauses before handing the foil square to you. You take him in hand and stroke him from root to tip. He makes a noise low in his throat and you lean in to trace the vein along the bottom of his shaft with your tongue. His hips twitch forward just a bit like he's trying to keep control and failing. You know the feeling. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the slightest bit salty. You kind of lose the plot for a second, thoughts of him fucking you fading with the desire to make him feel good like this, to blow him until he's moaning your name like you were moaning his.

Joel slides his fingers into your hair and you manage to take him about halfway before he tugs gently. "I'm not complainin'," he says, voice tight. "'Specially when you look so damn pretty like this. But I've been hard as a fuckin' rock for an hour and I ain't as young as I used to be, so..." He trails off.

You place a dainty kiss on his tip and pat his hip. "Another time," you say, realizing too late what you've implied, but Joel just smirks. You tear open the foil and slide the condom on as gingerly as you can but he still hisses your name like he's scolding you, that hand in your hair pulling once again just a little. You feel the arousal pooling in your gut, sticky between your thighs.

He tugs on the collar of your shirt. "Off," he says. You're quick to obey, whipping it to a corner of your apartment along with your bra. Joel just looks for a second before reaching a calloused hand to palm one breast, thumb sliding over your nipple. "Look at you," he says, breathy, with a squeeze. "Christ."

"You gonna fuck me, Joel Miller?" You blink up at him. He swallows visibly, throat bobbing before that smirk is back.

"Only ‘cause you asked so nicely."

You scramble back up the bed on your hands and knees, leaning down on your elbows and presenting him with your bare cunt. "Cause I'm such a lady."

"That so?" he murmurs. He drags his fingers through your folds slowly, brows furrowed. You fist your hands in the sheets. "You want it like this?" he asks. He palms your hip, traces the curve of your ass and presses his fingertips into your skin. You wiggle at him a little. Most guys you hook up with want it like this. You don't mind being fucked from behind, don't mind being able to close your eyes with your face shoved in the sheets and just feel. God knows with a dick his size you'll be feeling it regardless of the position you're in. But part of you does want to look at Joel, to watch him, his expression, his handsome, rugged face. Feel his arms around you, feel the warmth of his breath on your lips as he fucks you. See what his eyes look like when he comes. But this is enough.

"Do I need to say please?"

The head of his cock presses against your entrance in reply. You crane your neck to see as much of him as you can. He's focused on your ass with a light frown, hands resting on your hips.

"Gonna go slow," he grumbles. His gaze meets yours. "For my benefit as much as yours."

Words don't come. You're breathless and dripping, desperate for him to just get on with it.

"Joel, are you gonna just stand there --"

He slowly, torturously slowly, starts to slide into you. The stretch is immediate, has you face down in the sheets, eyes fluttering. Each inch of painful stretch fades quickly to throbbing pleasure, a fullness that has you keening.

You press your hips back into him but his fingers grip tighter, holding you in place. "What did I say?" he grits out.

"Feels so good, so big," you babble. There's nothing left in your brain, your body, but this. But Joel. You have to have all of him. "I can take it, I can take your cock, I --"

"Got quite the mouth on you, huh?" he says. He keeps pressing into you, filling you up inch by inch. "Okay?" he pants. "Look at me, tell me it feels good --"

You crane your neck again, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes and look at him. His own are lidded, mouth open in an "o" like he can hardly believe it himself. A flush runs down his chest and if you didn't know better you'd say he's trembling.

"Yes, I -- god, Joel, keep going, please --"

"Doin' good, sweetheart," he coos. His hand strokes up and down your spine. "Almost there. Almost takin' all of me."

He bottoms out and you see stars. You feel lips on your back, the warm puffs of his breath on your skin as he waits for you. It's a fine line between pain and pleasure and you're walking the tightrope but the stretch is delicious. You can feel every inch of him. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears and you shift your hips a little, loving it when Joel moans.

"Alright," you manage. "Move, please." His fingertips are back on your hips and give you a squeeze before he starts to drag his cock out of you. The tip of him catches the spot inside of you that makes your back arch as he pulls out and then again when he thrusts in.

"All that work, my fingers and my tongue and you're still so fuckin' tight. Christ."

The only thing you manage to say is a litany of his name.

"Lemme hear it, baby," he grinds out. Baby. "Be so loud those fuckers downstairs hear you--"

You meet his thrusts as best you can and even though it feels so good, even though you're so full, it's not bringing you to the edge like you need. Your neck is starting to hurt from the way you're twisting to see him, your fingers gripping the sheets as hard as you can because you want to be touching him instead. But this is good, this works, maybe if you touch your clit, you'll --

You reach between your legs and Joel pulls out. You get off your elbows and turn around, almost gasping at the loss of him. "Is something wrong?"

He's frowning at you. "Should be askin' you that."

You don't know what to say. Your cunt throbs a little from being empty, the ache settling in now that he's not there to literally fuck it away. "What?"

"You stopped makin' those noises," he says softly. “The ones you were makin’ before.” You turn around and sit facing him, suddenly a little self-conscious. "Ain't gonna fuck you in a position you don't like."

"I --" You try to fight through the haze of your brain for words. "I liked it fine."

Joel waits. He just stands there at the edge of the bed and waits.

"Maybe..." you try again. "Would on my back be okay for you?"

His eyebrows raise like he can't believe you'd think otherwise. "That'll work for me," he says slowly. "Grab a pillow." You shift back on the bed as he kneels on it, positioning himself between your legs. You hand him one of your pillows and he taps your hip. "Up." You obey and he slides it under you so your lower half is lifted a bit before he presses one leg to the side, spreading you open. He slowly bends the other so that your thigh is pressed against your torso in a deep stretch without being painful. You feel bare, exposed in a way he somehow hasn't yet achieved.

Joel fixes his gaze on your face. "Let's try that." He strokes himself once and then leans over you, bracing himself on one hand near your head. He lines up to press his cock into you again. Faster than last time, you wince a little but you dig your fingertips into his back to tell him to keep going. He bottoms out and you immediately feel the difference, eyes fluttering shut. Before it was like he was plowing into you, like you were so full you could hardly handle it. But like this it's like he's melting into you, like there is no space between you anymore. You're full but it's not so harsh. You don’t know where you end and he begins.

"That better?" he croaks. You force yourself to look at him and find his face closer, closer than you thought he'd get, breath warm on your face. His forehead is beaded with sweat and his eyes search your face. This close you can see they’re grey, the lines at the corners deep with strain. Even like this, stuffed full of his cock, you could look at him all day.

"Move, Joel," you tell him. He takes that for a yes and starts at a punishing pace. You have no idea how he's kept it together this long, considering you've felt on the edge of another orgasm this entire time. You anchor your arms on his shoulders as his thrusts make you see stars.

"Ask for what you want, you hear me?" His balls smack loudly against you and he presses his lips to your ear. "You ask and I'll do my damn best."

You don't know what it is -- the overwhelming sensation of his cock dragging in and out at this angle, how close he is, his words -- but you feel tears at the corners of your eyes again. You nod frantically, hands grasping for purchase on his back.

"C'mon," Joel says. "Gotta use that mouth, sweetheart."

"Yes," you pant. "Yes, yes, Joel, yes --"

"Fuckin' perfect for me," he moans. His lips trail up your cheek, tongue catching your tears before he presses them to yours in a messy kiss that's more teeth and breath than anything else.

"Joel, Joel, Joel --"

"Gonna come for me? Gonna soak my cock like you did my face?"

Your orgasm comes like the snap of a rubber band. You hold him as tight as you can as it washes through you, the waves almost painful as he keeps fucking you fast and hard, your name a series of broken sounds from his mouth until his hips stutter and he groans deep in his chest. You try to keep your eyes on him as you come down from your high and are rewarded with the scrunch of his brow and the slight part of his lips as he comes. Beautiful, you think.

The room is all of sudden much quieter without the sounds of your fucking. It's just the dull sounds of Frank's through the floor and your combined panting as he pulls out of you and flops on the bed beside you. You wince this time, the soreness really settling in. Joel finds your hand and kisses the back of it in a move so unexpectedly tender you can't look at him, raw as you are already. The bed shifts and you figure he's throwing out the condom.

"You okay?" he says. You open your eyes and find him standing at the edge, looking at you. He's holding your robe from the bathroom. You stretch and let him look.

"Yeah," you reply. You give him a smile as you scoot to the edge and wrap yourself in it when he holds it out. "Thank you." Joel grunts.

You go to the bathroom yourself to pee and see the damage. Hair a mess, your mascara gathered around your eyes like you've been working hard. You've got hickies forming on your neck and chest, the skin rubbed a bit raw from his beard around your mouth. You love how you look right now.

You look like you got fucked well. And you did.

But now you want a shower and a snack and to go to bed.

You half expect Joel to be gone when you go back into the bedroom. You remember belatedly that you don't let hookups stay the night. Will he leave if you ask him to? If he's already left then you don't need to worry about it. A small part of you worries you won’t ask him to go.

Instead, he's sitting on the edge of your bed putting his boots on. His shirt is unbuttoned but other than that he's dressed. He looks up briefly. His own hair is going in a thousand different directions and if this wasn't a one-night stand you'd fix it for him, a hand pushing it back like you did when he was between your thighs. But things are different outside the heat of the moment.

"You want some water or anything?" you ask instead.

He shakes his head and finishes his boot, stands and buttons his shirt. "Nah," he says. "Should just head out."

You wonder belatedly if there's anyone at home missing him. Maybe he's got a wife. Maybe he's got a life that he's running away from and into your arms.

"Bar'll be closed by now, or as good as," you say. You spy his jacket by the door and bend to pick it up. "No one'll see you."

Joel's face does something funny that you don't quite know how to read. He takes his jacket from you and shrugs it on. "Alright," he says.

He looks awkward in a way you didn't know he could so you throw him a line. "Thanks," you say. For fucking me. For listening to me. For making me feel good. "It was fun. See you around?"

His expression softens. He steps close and gently holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger before kissing you once, firmly but chastely compared to what you were doing before.

"See you around," he says. And then he opens the door and disappears down the stairs.

You hear the outer door close and only then do you let out a breath. Your entire body feels like you just spent hours at the gym. But your mind? It's going a thousand miles an hour. You don't know what to think about first -- how Joel looked, how he spoke to you, how his hands felt. How he implored you to ask for what you wanted, how he made you feel good because it made him feel good. How you desperately, desperately want to see him again, to know him in every possible way. How you want him to walk back up the stairs and hold you until you fall asleep.

And that's not how you expected to feel. It's not how you should feel after a one-night stand with a guy you serve a few times a week at your place of employment. Like he saw right to the core of you, like he gave you something you didn't know you needed.

You need to get a hold of yourself. This is how it starts -- this is how you get hurt. You care. Well, you always care, but no one has to know that. You let someone care about you. Not that Joel does, but he could.

But isn't that the one thing you want most of all?

You sleep in the next day. There's not much that needs to be done at Frank's besides bookkeeping and inventory which doesn't take you long. When you finally make it downstairs, three Advil popped to ease the soreness of your entire body, you're surprised to find Bill himself sitting at the bar.

He looks just as you remember, hair a little longer and a little grayer. Shit kickers and jeans, a hunting jacket and trucker hat. You'll bet his actual truck is parked around back where no one from the road can see it.

"Uh, hi?" Bill hasn't come around for at least a year, which is making your stomach sink a little. The last time was when there was a fire because some dumbass tried to smoke inside and he wanted to make sure you weren't going to quit on him for having to throw water on the nasty curtains.

"Heard about Seth," he says. Always right to the point, this guy. He's drinking what looks to be Coke with a lemon. "Sit." You do as he says. So much for bookkeeping.

"Yep," you say. You have no idea where he heard it and know better than to ask. "No big deal."

"I want to retire."

What? "Do you...work here?" Bill appreciates honesty and he's the kind of asshole that respects you if you're an asshole back.

"No," he says. "But I own the fuckin' dump. And me and Frank want to retire."

"There's a Frank?"

"My partner, dumbass. Keep up."

You were already groggy and still muddled from last night but this is forcing you to bring everything into sharp focus. Bill wants to retire. Which means he wants to...

"So my options are to sell this dump or find someone to take it."

If he sells the bar you're shit out of luck. No way another owner would let you live upstairs the way you do for next to nothing and let you work here and run the show. This is...a lot to take in.

"Are you listening to me?" Bill says. You blink a few times.

"No," you admit. "Can you say that again?"

He sighs. "Do you want it?"

"The bar?" you ask incredulously.

"No, idiot, the dumpster out back. Yes, the bar." He raps his knuckles on the bar top. "You could keep everything the same. It's just paperwork, really. I'll just give it to you. God knows a young person like you could make it nicer, turn a better profit." He says it like it's an insult.

"Are you fucking serious?" This goes against most every rule you've had for yourself for the last who knows how long. Don't get attached, keep moving. No one really needs you so you can disappear whenever. You haven't gotten bored yet, haven't gotten restless, but you know it'll happen. There's no way you can do this forever. But owning a bar? That would make you stay. You'd have no out. You’d have to let yourself be seen, let yourself be needed. You’d have to commit. You’d have to not fuck it up.

"Why not?" he shrugs. "I know you said it was temporary back when you moved in, but you practically run it."

He's right. Everything is temporary for you. But would sticking around be so bad? Would trying to actually make a life for yourself, have a home base, a thing you care about be the end of the world? And then there's Joel...No. Not going there.

"I..."

"Either you take it or I shut it down." Bill gets off his stool and looks around. "No one cares enough about it to try to sell it."

"Then why me?"

"Do you care about it?" he asks. His piercing stare pins you to your stool, compels you to be honest with him where you're rarely honest with yourself.

"Yeah," you say. "I do."

"Then there's you're fuckin' answer. I know you do. You clean the shit out of this place and train the seasonal dipshits and learn the names of the fuckin’ drunks and live upstairs and make this a good place for good people to come. You think no one notices, but I notice. We all notice." It's possibly the most words Bill has ever said to you in a row.

"Can I...think about it?"

He shrugs. "Sure," he says. "Not too long, though. Gotta decide by the end of the year. Maybe earlier."

That gives you three months, give or take. To figure out what the fuck you're going to do.

With one conversation Bill has shattered your entire life here. Now there’s actually a timer on it, this little piece you’ve carved out and started to enjoy. Could you make it a real thing? Could you finally admit to yourself that this is what you want – to be wanted? To be needed? To have something that’s yours?

The bar door shuts and you realize Bill has left you alone with your thoughts. You shift in your stool and a wave of soreness rolls through you from your core.

You thunk your forehead on the bar. “Fuck me,” you say to the empty room.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction

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ladysomething · 20 days ago

Note

🌀

🌀Post the fic summary for a fic you haven't written/published yet. It can be hypothetical or something you really plan on releasing...

oh god. ok .... maybe body swap fic, because it's a snappy summary that immediately is like "well. I know exactly what this is going to be about then."

Charles goes to a witch and asks to become World Champion.

She grants his wish, just . . . not in the way he'd imagined.

And, because I doubt I'll ever write this one either (it would be lonnnggg), here is the prologue and the part of the first chapter that I wrote. I've posted a tiny bit on here before, so it may be familiar to those who've been here for a while.

Prologue

“I want you to make me a World Champion.”

Althea leans back in her chair, fingernails scraping against the wooden tabletop. It’s cluttered with books and parchment and colourful bottles filled with unknown liquids.

The rest of the small room is just as cluttered, which is pretty much exactly what Charles expected from a witch. It’s making him feel uncomfortable and slightly claustrophobic, but it’s all going to be worth it if she can do what he wants.

“World Champion,” she repeats softly, a smile curling up one side of her mouth. “This I can do for you, Mister Leclerc.”

Charles sits up slightly straighter, fingers shaking with anticipation.

“You can?” He asks hopefully.

“It’s a big wish,” she concedes, but she’s already leaning forward to sort through some of the vials on the table. “A big wish means a big price. I think you are familiar with this already, yes?”

Charles’ stomach twists uncomfortably, sorrow echoing in his chest. “I have already paid a big price,” he murmurs. “And yet I still do not have my wish. This is why I’m here.”

“I know,” she says softly. “My price is small, in comparison.”

“Give me a number,” Charles says desperately. “I have more money than I need, and I want a Championship more.”

Althea purses her lips and stands, white dress swirling around her feet as she sweeps to the other side of the room.

“It’s not money that I want, Charles,” Althea says, bracing one hand against a crowded shelf and rising on her tip toes. She pushes aside a stack of books then reaches to the back of the shelf, closing her hand around a tiny vial. “If money is of no value to you, then it is of value to me.”

For the first time since he started his hunt for somebody to help him, he feels a shiver of fear slide down his back.

This isn’t his first time coming to a witch.

He’d done it once before, when he was younger and thought witches were nothing but stories in Harry Potter, but he’d been made a believer then.

This is the fifth witch he’s come to with this specific problem. The other four had all been fake, obvious to varying degrees, and with only one had he gotten to the point of discussing payment.

He’d already had a bad feeling about her abilities, but when she’d demanded an obscenely huge amount of money, he’d clearly been able to see the writing on the wall. He’d left before either of them wasted any more of their time.

But Althea . . . As soon as he’d walked in here, he’d known that she was real. It had been the feeling that had washed over him, when he’d stepped across the threshold.

All he’d felt since then was anticipation.

Now, he wonders what the fuck he’s thinking. He knows better than to mess with powers like these. Lorenzo and Maman always said that when you ask for something you want desperately, the price is always bigger than you are willing to pay.

He’d thought, while looking for somebody to help him, that there was no cost he would not willingly hand over.

But a secret . . . He has a few that he would rather not share.

Althea takes her seat again, spreading ingredients out in front of her.

“Make your decision, Mister Leclerc,” Althea says, not even looking up at him as she continues to sort her things. “Do you want to be Champion?”

Charles’ breath hitches in his chest.

“Yes,” he says decisively. He knows he can pick a secret that will satisfy Althea without it being life-destroyed. “Do I tell you the secret now?”

She shakes her head, smiling slightly, then pulls a mortar and pestle towards her. It’s made of marble, and catches on the wood of the table as she drags it across.

Charles goes to help her, reaching his hands out, but she slaps them away. He retracts them dutifully, resting them in his lap and watching silently as she starts to carefully measure out her various ingredients and put them into the mortar one by one.

“What are you doing?” Charles ask nervously, when he can no longer stand the silence.

“Shh.”

Charles goes silent again, twisting his rings around his fingers in a useless attempt to work out his anxiety.

What seems like forever later, Althea pushes the mortar over to him, then places a spoon in his hand.

“Eat.”

Charles stares down at the mortar, which has a disgusting green and gooey concoction inside.

“Uh . . .”

“Just one spoonful.”

Face twisted with disgust, Charles carefully dips the spoon into the thick soup. He’s likely had worse, when Andrea put him on a liquid-only diet for a week a few years ago—but, then again, at least he actually knew what was in those and that they wouldn’t kill him.

“What is your secret?” Althea asks softly, brown eyes staring at him with an intensity that makes Charles feel a little sick.

He has a few, he thinks, that are worthy of payment to a witch. He knows it has to be something heavy enough that he doesn’t want people knowing; he just can’t make it so bad that if people did know, it would ruin his life and career.

There are, admittedly, not many that fit into the slim margin.

“I don’t think I can win the Championship on my own.”

Althea smiles gently. “Charles, this is why you are here. That is not a secret.”

Charles swallows heavily. That might be true for her, but he’s never said it out loud before. He considers it a secret, and a well-kept one at that.

But, if it’s not good enough . . .

“After my father died . . .” Charles has to stop to clear the lump that’s suddenly appeared in his throat. “I didn’t—I couldn’t go to the funeral. Not after . . . So I missed it. I skipped my father’s funeral.”

Althea softens.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” she says. “But this is not enough either, Mister Leclerc. I need something bigger.”

Charles scoffs, rolling his eyes skyward.

He’s never told anybody that, either, because it’s the most ashamed he’s ever been of himself. Grief had taken hold of him and had him thinking it would be better to not be surrounded by people who didn’t love his dad as much as he did—and then he’d skipped one the most important things he’d ever experience in his life.

“There is nothing bigger.”

Nothing bigger that wouldn’t kill him in the process, anyway.

Althea reaches across the table and places her hand over his wrist. Her hand is cold and clammy, and it sends a shiver up his arm and down his spine.

“You must think of something.”

He sifts through his memories, trying to come up with something that could be worse than what he’s already said. Something he might be comfortable sharing.

But all that comes up are things he would never say; how he’d once told Arthur that their parents didn’t love him and then felt terrible when his little brother had burst into tears; that he’d cried after having sex with a girl for the first and only time because he’d so desperately wished he could just like it and be normal; that he’d told Jules that he was in love with him and Jules had awkwardly patted his head and said it was probably just a crush and that he’d get over it, and, worse, that Jules had been right and he’d moved his attentions to a boy his own age by the end of the week; the terrible, awful, things he feels for—

Althea inhales sharply, eyes sliding closes.

“Yes,” she breathes. “That.”

Charles rips his hand away from hers, breathing deeply. “You—can you—”

She raises a brow at him, pressing her red-painted lips together.

“Get out of my head,” he commands hotly, standing up so fast his chair falls back, slamming against the ground.

“Sit back down,” she says sternly, the harshest he’s seen her yet. He can feel her anger ripple around the room, and it sets him even further on edge.

He’s not sure he should be here.

“You have already paid,” Althea says. “The process has started. Sit. Back. Down.”

God. He definitely shouldn’t be here.

“I think I’m going to go,” Charles says anxiously, stepping towards the door. “Keep the secrets, I’ll just—”

The door slams shut on a gust of wind, the chair flipping through the air to right itself. Its legs scrape loudly against the stone floor as it slides to the side, easily accessible for Charles to sit back into.

Heart in his throat, Charles gingerly sits back down. The chair slides back under the table without him moving it; he has to grip the sides of it to stop himself from being throw off it with how fast it moves.

The spoon he’d dropped hovers in the air in front of his face, the curve of it full of the green potion.

Christ. Charles has never seen anything like this in his life.

“Eat,” Althea commands softly. “And you will be the World Champion.”

I’m going to die, Charles thinks as opens his mouth and leans forward.

He’ll have nobody to blame but himself.

Chapter 1

Max

Max feels weird when he wakes up.

There’s something not quite right about the way his sheets feel against his body; they’re too soft, too light and airy. The bed, too, is rather soft—nothing at all like he prefers.

Whatever. He must have hooked up with some guy last night and he feel asleep at his house.

It’s a little strange that he doesn’t remember it—particularly because he doesn’t feel like he has a hangover—but once he wakes up a bit more he’s sure it’ll come back to him. God, he can’t believe whoever he fucked last night wasn’t even memorable enough for him to remember it the literal next morning, which is particularly annoying because he has a big meeting with Christian this morning—

Oh, fuck.

He scrambles out of bed, but misses his step. He slips awkwardly, barely managing to catch himself on the mattress. Fucking rich cunts with their stupidly high beds—Christ, who the fuck did he pick up last night? He usually steers clear of this type.

The only saving grace is that this guy doesn’t seem to be around right now. Must have dipped out when he realised Max had stayed over. It’s good in some ways, because one of the worst mornings of his life was after he hooked up with a guy who had only in the morning realised who he was.

Max had woken up to the bloke sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at him with wide eyes and clutching an F1 shirt. Not even a Red Bull one—a fucking Ferrari one, Charles Leclerc’s stupid number 16 staring up at him as he’d numbly signed item after item.

So—any situation that’s not a repeat of that is pretty decent, in Max’s opinion.

But, on the other hand, there’s nothing he always wants more than to leave after casual sex, and when they leave first, Max is forced to linger in order to get them to sign the dreaded NDA.

At this point, he knows he should get the anonymous man of the night to sign the NDA before they hook up. In fact, his PR team have paid off enough people that they would also prefer he do that. But it always ruins the mood, so generally Max does it after.

Which leaves him here—in some strange man’s apartment, now waiting for him to return so that he can shove the page in the guy’s face and then hopefully get the fuck out of here before his meeting starts.

Actually, what is the time?

The nightstand is empty of both a clock and a phone, which is really fucking helpful. Max has no idea where his phone is, but its absence will be why he didn’t wake up to the alarm he set. God, he hopes he hasn’t missed the meeting already.

Rather unusually, he feels ridiculously hungry. He rubs absentmindedly at his stomach as he wanders out of the bedroom. It’s actually a nice place, contrary to what his first thought was. Well designed, but also homely. Certainly not just populated by an interior designer, like Max’s home.

Max ignores all the family photos hanging along the wall of the corridor—he doesn’t need to see that shit.

The corridor deposits him into a wide, open-plan living area, the kitchen tucked away in one corner. One whole wall is a big glass, concertina door, opening onto a balcony and overlooking the Mediterranean. Despite its clear opulence, it’s still cozy and warm, obviously loved.

None of that is what catches Max’s attention though. What really makes him freeze, eyes widening in panic, is the fucking—shrine to Charles motherfucking Leclerc on one wall.

Max goes over to it, slowly and in a bit of a daze.

Jesus Christ.

He’s hooked up with some deranged Charles Leclerc fan!

Fuck his life. Why does this shit always happen to him?

It’s quite the shrine, too, replica helmets and trophies and everything. There are some framed photos that Max sweeps past, barely letting his eyes linger on any of the items on the shelves.

Fuck, where’s his phone? He needs to get the fuck out of this crazy person’s place. Gemma can just send this bloke the NDA directly to his address, Max absolutely does not need to be caught by this guy when he returns—

Wait.

Slowly, Max reaches out, poking the mouth of the helmet to make it spin around.

No. No fucking way.

Sebastian Vettel’s handwriting stares back at him, words made familiar because of social media.

You are the most talented driver I came across in 15 years of F1 . . .

Panicked, Max backtracks desperately searching across the trophies and helmets for a sign that what he’s terrified is true is not actually true. He stops dead at one on the bottom shelf, Charles’ name inscribed on the bottom.

He remembers this fucking trophy. He’d fumed for weeks about that fact that Charles got it instead of him. They’d only been, what, eight years old? Karting in Belgium somewhere, and Max had laid awake at night for three days after, thinking of the things he’d done wrong, all the ways he could have been better, the amount of times he’d practically given that win to Charles.

Max had vowed it would be the last time that Leclerc beat him, and even though he hasn’t kept to that as much as he wishes he could have, generally their ratio of wins is enough to keep Max satisfied.

Still. This trophy, the first one he’d ever lost to another Karter, is etched in his memory.

With shaking fingers, Max reaches out to touch it, Leclerc’s named engraved in the silver. It’s real. It has to be real. There’s no way even the craziest of fans have such an exact replica of this obscure trophy.

Jesus Christ.

He’s hooked up with Charles Leclerc!

What the fuck did he drink last night? How shit-faced was he? He must have been off his face to look at fucking Charles, the shitty little asshole he’s hated since the moment he met him, and thought, Huh. Yeah, this is a great idea.

Or—maybe Charles came onto him.

Weird, but Max can definitely see himself agreeing just to sate the curiosity. Just to find out what he’s like, whether there’s something that the man isn’t good at. And he’s too pretty to be any good at sex, right? So Max might be amenable, if Charles caught him at the right time, just to find out.

Okay. Okay, well, whatever the case was, Max doesn’t need to hang around. There’s probably no need for an NDA at all, because Charles can’t say anything without risking outing himself in the process.

So Max can get the fuck out of here before he comes back.

He just needs to find his fucking phone.

#anon ask #lestappen fic #lestappen fic idea #body swap fic

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ryker-writes · 2 years ago

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No I’m sorry but if Azul was my sibling and he treated me like that he’d be dead to me. I would have torn into him the second he tried to get me to sign anything. Believing he’s above me and everyone else? No better the those who used to pick on him. I’d quite then and there and even after his overblot if he tried to call me his sibling I’d make it very clear that with the way he’s treated me at this point he’s just a cruel stranger with the same parents

Fair. A lot of people have actually said that they wouldn't forgive the boys after what they've done. The amount of people who've asked for this amazes me

For those who didn't see the first part, you can find it here

Request rules and Masterlists

Azul as a sibling (Broken relationship with no forgiveness)

Azul had been avoiding you for years now

it started when he became friends with the Leech twins

before then you had always been there for him

always defended him when others picked on him

but when he met the Leech twins, he didn't need you anymore

and he cast you aside

even when you both got into NRC, he didn't pay you much attention

but he made you work for him at the Mostro Lounge with all the worst jobs possible

while you worked for him, he barely ever interacted with you

the only times he did was to tell you not to call him brother

and then he wanted you to sign a contract

it said that you would work and do anything he wanted you too, and you could never tell anyone that you were related, you used to be close, or even give details of his childhood

in return you get some of the better jobs like actually dealing with customers and more discounts

there was no way you were signing that

the contract basically wanted you to become a slave to Azul and for slightly better jobs and a few extra bucks off the food you make?

not a chance

who does he think he is?

you two were family at one point but it's like he thinks he's so much better than you now

this was not the Azul you knew in the past

this was someone you've never met

enough was enough

you teared apart his contract and said

"If you don't want to be siblings that badly, then fine. We aren't siblings. I'm not going to sign some contract in order to be bossed around by someone who wants nothing to do with me. In fact, I quit. You're no better than those who used to bully you."

with that, you walked out

Azul was angry, but you didn't care

you didn't want anything to do with him

so you left Mostro Lounge and hung out elsewhere on campus

you made your own life and got friends who didn't associate you with Azul

then a few weeks later, there was talk of another student overblotting

it didn't take long for someone to mention who it was

of course Azul would overblot

it didn't matter much to you

but then you noticed Azul around you more often

he didn't say anything and was just "coincidentally" in the same place as you when you were

there would times when you would glance near him and see the panic set into him

Azul really wanted to say something but was too nervous and didn't know where to start

you didn't even give him the time

you never talked to him, and never even looked directly at him

until one day when you were having a disagreement with a classmate

Azul thought this would be the perfect time to step in and show that he still cares and even start a conversation

maybe you would even be grateful for his help

"Excuse me? It would be wise to watch what you say. After all, that's my sibling you're talking about."

how dare he

how dare he step in like everything was fine now and even try to "help" you like you couldn't help yourself

the classmate walks away and you're left with Azul who looks very proud of himself

until he looks at you and sees just how cold your expression is

"Listen to me Azul. I don't need your help, and we certainly aren't siblings. I used to defend you all the time and you returned the favor by pushing me away and trying to get me to serve you. You are not the Azul I used to know. You are just a cruel stranger that's taken up too much of my time."

he looked slightly stunned and then he avoided even looking at you

whatever

for how he's treated you for years, this is what he had coming

you weren't going to put yourself through that kind of pain again

so as you walked away from Azul and his life, you simply said

"You should be glad. After all, you never wanted to be my brother in the first place. You got what you wanted."

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst azul #azul ashengrotto #twst azul x reader #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader

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fallenrocket · 2 months ago

Text

Some Random Galinda/Elphaba/Fiyero Thoughts

Note: This is mostly based on the musical, looking at the movie in particular--while I love the book, Fiyero is so different between the two versions that he needs to be viewed as two separate characters. Also, my shipping thoughts go hand in hand with my neurodivergent headcanons. For the purposes of this post, we have Elphaba (autistic,) Galinda (high-masking autistic/ADHD,) and Fiyero (ADHD.)

For as long as there have been love triangles and shipper wars, there have been fans who've pointed out the obvious solution of "So-and-So has two hands!" I've certainly seen the appeal of various OT3 ships in the past, but after watching Wicked: Part 1, I'm not sure if I've ever seen a love triangle as much in need of an OT3 resolution as Galinda/Elphaba/Fiyero.

Any way you look at it, it's clear that Elphaba is the apex of this triangle/polycule, so let's start there. The Elphaba/Galinda and Elphaba/Fiyero ships are both rock solid. Both have certain similarities, the popular hottie paired with the gorgeous outcast whose beauty can only be seen by them. But the road to how they get there in each case is a little different, so we'll take them one at a time.

Elphaba/Galinda

We have to talk about them first, obviously. That's why we're all here, right? The relationship so iconic, you can build a whole marketing campaign purely off the colors green and pink. These two have a classic love/hate setup, the old I Hate My Roommate, Oh No I Love Them! routine. But with both characters, it goes so deep. Being seen as a good person is crucial to Galinda's sense of self, and from the moment she meets Elphaba, who sees through her self-aggrandizing vow to use her not-yet-developed sorcery skills to "help" her, that sense of self is challenged. The image Galinda presents to the world is so carefully controlled and precise--her popularity is thanks in part to the fact that she's constantly performing "personhood" for those around her. But Elphaba immediately sees through her performance, calling her out in front of everybody.

That, I think, is at the heart of their early conflicts. It's not just that Galinda is pretty and popular and Elphaba is green and weird. It's that Elphaba has no issue pointing out that Galinda isn't what she pretends to be, and that rattles her. At the same time, it probably burns her up that Elphaba refuses to give in to what other people think about her, at least giving the impression that she doesn't care about their opinions. That isn't true, of course, as Galinda rightly recognizes at the Ozdust Ballroom.

When Galinda steps forward to dance with Elphaba, it's a revolutionary moment for her character. It's an unspoken acknowledgment that she had been cruel in giving Elphaba the hat, willingly admitting that she's not as "good" as she likes to think she is. But at the same time, this dance is the first truly kind thing Galinda does in the story. Like Elphaba, she hasn't stopped caring what people think about her, but for the first time, doing something right means more to her than just giving the appearance of it. So she stands with Elphaba among the stares and whispers, following her lead and doing her dance regardless of how it looks.

"Popular" is more than just a recompense, a genuine way to try and help Elphaba after tricking her earlier with the hat. Even as Galinda tries to make Elphaba more like her--ultimately giving up when she realizes how lovely Elphaba already is as herself--this is Galinda at her most unmasked, which actually makes her a little more like Elphaba. She is extra as hell throughout this whole song, delightfully goofy and hyper and excited. It's in stark contrast with Elphaba, who doesn't know what to think here, but this is who Galinda is when she's not performing for everyone around her. Elphaba is always 100% herself and never lets anyone take that away from her, and in "Popular," Galinda lets Elphaba see her.

When the break happens between them in "Defying Gravity," it has nothing to do with how they feel about each other. Their angry/frustrated accusations of "I hope you're happy" give way to their sad/wistful farewells of "I hope you're happy." Their essential breakdown is about, not who they are but how they are. Elphaba doesn't know how to go along to get along, even for the sake of playing a long game, so she immediately blows everything up with the Wizard and Madame Morrible because she knows how wrong this all is. She shows her hand without a second thought and is instantly prepared to throw everything else away for her ideals. Galinda, meanwhile, has spent her life being who other people expect her to be, and she doesn't really know how to give all that up--including her dreams of becoming a sorcerer and her chance for real power and influence--to take what feels like a shortsighted stand. Elphaba has no plan beyond "I won't do this" and "We have to get out," and as much as Galinda loves her, she's not ready or able to take that leap. They're both caught on diverging paths, reaching out for each other even as they're being pulled apart. Gaaaaah!!!

Elphaba/Fiyero

Even though Elphaba/Fiyero plays with similar archetypes and some similar themes as Elphaba/Galinda, their interactions and relationship are different, which is valuable. This isn't just a case where the canon M/F ship gets to "go there" while copying the F/F ship Because Compulsive Heterosexuality. I will say, the movie in particular gives me lots of Fiyero feels that I don't necessarily have with the stage show, so my thoughts on both Elphaba/Fiyero and Galinda/Fiyero rely heavily on Jonathan Bailey's interpretation of the character. In this version of the story, Fiyero does feel important to me, not just a shoehorned-in love interest for the sake of it.

Like Galinda, Fiyero is a character who masks/performs a lot. A key difference between them, I think, is that Fiyero has much more self-awareness about his. He knows what he's doing when he plays the role of the shallow party prince, essentially "giving the people what they want." But as hard as Galinda works to maintain the image she projects, I'm not sure if she entirely realizes that it isn't the real her. Both characters are trapped behind the masks they've made, but Fiyero definitely knows it, and I'm not sure if Galinda does.

At any rate, that's what we're working with when Fiyero meets Elphaba. In this instance, he clocks her before she clocks him--Fiyero easily defies her expectations when she rattles through her standard "no, I'm not seasick" list, and he immediately treats her like a person, something that not many people in her life do.

Elphaba quite can't see that at first, though. I don't know if she initially buys the performance Fiyero sells everyone else, but she's pointedly unimpressed by it. While everybody else is tripping over themselves falling for his charms in "Dancing Through Life," Elphaba huffs and rolls her eyes, even when Fiyero specifically meets her gaze in the middle of the number and gives her a little "hey, I know you!" wave.

So even though we get a bit of a love/hate trajectory again, it's not mutual this time. Fiyero is intrigued by Elphaba from the start, though not particularly because of her greenness--rather, he finds it interesting that she's immune to his charm. He likes that she speaks her mind and causes "commotion," and post-"Popular," he tells her she doesn't need to change herself. The unspoken implication? He likes who she already is. Elphaba is the one who holds back here.

It's not clear exactly where and how the change happens for her. Obviously, the rescue of the Lion cub marks the moment where Elphaba realizes her feelings for Fiyero, voiced in "I'm Not that Girl." But her opinion--and understanding--of him had already shifted. As he points out, some part of her chooses not to knock him out with the poppy spell, recognizing him as a potential ally to help the Lion. And it's in that scene where she acknowledges that he just pretends to be shallow and self-absorbed, adding that he's unhappy within that performance. So she's already made those observations about him. But when did it happen? For me, that's the part I'm not seeing on the screen, and it's an interesting question to wonder what causes Elphaba to reevaluate Fiyero in the first place.

With both Galinda and Fiyero, I think it's important to note that loving Elphaba doesn't change who they fundamentally are. This isn't character growth via The Love of a Good Woman. Both of them already are the people Elphaba comes to know and love, but the parts of them that she values are the parts that they tend to hide. Loving Elphaba makes them want to let themselves be seen, at least by her. By the end of the movie, Fiyero's feelings about how he wants to show himself are already changing, while Galinda is torn, breaking her own heart as she's dragged back into other people's expectations.

Galinda/Fiyero

Mileage on this one varies, I know. Plenty of fans will argue that this "triangle" really only has two sides, that it's Elphaba/Galinda and Elphaba/Fiyero. That Galinda/Fiyero is purely fake performative comphet. If that's your interpretation, that's cool.

For me, though, I do think there are real feelings there, on both sides. Galinda lamenting, "I don't even think he's perfect anymore, and I still want him!" feels major for her character, and I see Fiyero's care in how gently he responds when Galinda is knocked out by the poppies. And it's just more interesting to me if they both care about each other. I'm not saying their feelings for each other are the same as what they feel for Elphaba, or as intense. But in a hypothetical OT3 resolution for this story, I think their relationship would add up to more than just passing each other coming and going from Elphaba's bedroom.

I find Galinda/Fiyero very interesting because, even though they're the only "official" couple within the triangle by the end of the movie, there's far more potential in what their relationship could be than what it actually is at this point. In an OT3 scenario, I feel like their dynamic requires the most speculation or imagination. It's very clear what Elphaba/Galinda or Elphaba/Fiyero would be like romantically. But what would Galinda/Fiyero be to each other?

The way I see it, their canon relationship is hampered by two chief points: masking and outside expectations of monogamy.

Because both of them are performing most of the time, that extends to their relationship. Fiyero and Galinda start dating because each is very much The Sort of Person I'm Supposed to Date. When they flirt with each other, it feels like you're watching a play, two master performers "yes and-ing" their way through a relationship that's far more about the image they want to present than what they themselves really want.

Again, they're both drawn to Elphaba in part because she sees them for who they are and makes them want to be who they are. Fiyero's mask makes him actively unhappy, and at minimum, Galinda's puts her under a lot of pressure to maintain it and forces her into heartwrenching choices. So as they date one another--largely because other people expect it of them, because they're "perfect together"--their relationship is tied up in this thing that brings them misery and stress.

Furthermore, they're not really dating one another, they're dating one another's masks. We know that the real Galinda and the real Fiyero are both great--Elphaba wouldn't like them if they weren't! But in in their relationship, they don't really get to see the parts of each other that Elphaba loves.

That brings me to their other main hindrance. If Galinda and Fiyero are artificially forced into monogamy, then of course it's not gonna happen for them. They're just not it. Neither of them would choose the other over Elphaba, and if only one of them can be with her, than one person's happily-ever-after is the other one's loss.

In that way, I think a real Galinda/Fiyero relationship could only be possible inside an OT3. If both of them were free to date Elphaba, free to love and be loved by her, that could give them space to love each other, in whatever form that would take. Maybe it'd be romantic, maybe not (Lesbian!Galinda truthers, I see you!)--maybe they'd both have a romantic/sexual relationship with Elphaba and be platonic partners for each other. I'm not sure. But I do think they genuinely care about each other, and I think they'd be able to figure out what that looks like for them if they were both comfortable and secure in their relationship with Elphaba. If they didn't 1) feel forced to compete for her or 2) feel that, not being with her, they were one another's "consolation prize." And since I also think being with Elphaba would help them both feel more comfortable in dropping their masks and being their authentic selves, they'd have a much better opportunities to actually get to know one another.

#fallenrocket #wicked #wicked movie #elphaba thropp #galinda upland #glinda upland #fiyero tigelaar #galinda x elphaba #glinda x elphaba #fiyero x elphaba #fiyero x glinda #fiyero x galinda

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lawofangie · 3 months ago

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Hello. I just saw your post about your manifestation journey while struggling with depression and I’ll probably just be another rant about “how difficult it is to manifest”, but honestly I just want to talk a little bit.

I’m at work right now. I’m a trainee in a law office and my relationship with my boss is deteriorating gradually.

While I was at school, I would always think that I would be happier at a job, because I like to feel useful and competent. But now that I have a job, I just feel miserable.

I already received complaints twice about “being distracted” and “not doing my best”, which came as shocking because I’ve been doing my best. I have two bosses and while one looks like she really appreciates me, the other one might be the contrary.

I always fails to do what she wants me to do.

So I have been having really tiresome dreams. I had one where they asked me to type a document and after a while it turns out it was a “you are fired document” and asked me to sigh it.

They laughed and said that “I wasn’t doing enough” and “I wasn’t attending my classes at college” which I WAS but it didn’t matter.

I actually can’t imagine my life better. It’s like my mind just blocks it from me. I feel like I can’t delude myself even if that’s what I want the most.

I really want to just escape and live happily but I just feel trapped and miserable. I think I can predict what you are going to advice me but…I just don’t know what to do. I’m scared.

this is actually kind of relatable. i've felt similarly at many points in my life, i struggled to function, i thought external things would make me happy, applying the law was difficult. i couldn't imagine my life any better either. i understand where this is coming from, i'll try to give less generic advice, but i'm going to be brutally honest, and, this still won't be anything special. its important to remember that regardless of what i say here, manifestation is still just assuming you have your desire and persisting in that fact.

anyways, it honestly gets to a point where you have to realize that you're just wasting your time feeling trapped and scared. you're doing yourself a disservice. no one and nothing can save you, nor is anything or anyone going to. as unfortunate as your circumstances are, you have to do it yourself.

you have to take what you want and prioritize that above how you feel, anyone's made you feel, and how anyone feels about you. your life is meant to revolve around you and no one else. its YOUR life for a reason.

you SHOULD NOT waste the best years of your life being miserable, feeling like a failure, like a victim, like you can't change, like you're trapped like this forever when that's completely illogical. everyone and everything changes. people change in age, appearance, personality, sexuality, preferences, etc. it's physically impossible to be incapable of change unless you're not alive. people change all the time.

you genuinely do not have the time to be so self loathing and miserable, not when you're going to literally grow old one day. and according to those who've made it there already, that day comes fast. do you want to look back at your life at 80 and see what you wasted it doing? when all this information was right in your face? when all you had to do was take a chance and have some faith in yourself?

changing yourself isn't impossible, you're just too scared to assume anything good about yourself, perhaps because you've gotten so used to being miserable. "changing yourself", by the way, just so we're clear, simply means to assume something new about yourself. for example, you already believe you are a failure, and to change would be to simply assume you're successful. that's quite literally it. you just believe in something without physical proof, that's assuming. we assume all the time. you're just assuming about yourself now. the law is extremely simple to utilize, but it's the simplicity that leads to people overcomplicating it themselves.

also, delusion is, by definition, a false belief that is resistant to change, even when presented with evidence that it is not true. an assumption, by definition, is a belief that is taken as true without proof or evidence. you need to realize the difference here. we are telling you to assume, not to delude yourself. we are promising you that the "proof" comes after you've fully accepted it as true. we're not telling you to actively deny something despite accepting it as true. what would be the point in that? if we're telling you that your assumptions, aka the things you believe to be true without proof manifest, why would we tell you to continue to accept something you don't want as true? does that make sense?

being delusional and making an assumption may seem similar in theory, but in practice, they are completely different. one is literally the result of a mental illness, the other is a very normal, very human behavior that we do every day. we make assumptions about ourselves, people, and situations. all. the. time. it seems like it's only a problem and called "delusional" when it's about yourself, and it's something good.

it's like being confident in yourself, believing in your abilities despite what others have to say about you. for example, you have a great confidence in a talent or skill, and the you believe that you will get better as you get older/more experienced/more knowledgeable, and you'll make it places and have great opportunities in the future. let's say some random person decides to insult you and say that you'll never make it anywhere in life. would it be "delusional" to not listen to them? to not let someone else dictate your future? or would that simply be having some faith in yourself and not letting others define you?

this is literally all we're telling you to do, believe in yourself even if your reality seems to be against you. don't fight it, just accept that the unfavorable isn't true and move on. continue to believe in yourself.

and besides, if any person successful to date operated with that "i don't see it so it's not true" mindset, they wouldn't have become successful, would they? would anyone accumulate any kind of success with a mindset like that? the people who have came from nothing and made it to where they were now, had an unwavering confidence in their abilities and the fact that they'd be something one day. despite what anyone's told them, or tried to project onto them, it didn't get through to their unwavering sense of self.

the point is, we are promising you something. all it takes is for you to have some confidence in yourself. to quit hurting yourself. is that so hard?

anyways, the point of manifesting is when you change yourself, the things in your external reality change.

assuming is easy. believing things to be true without proof is easy. you just have to get comfortable with the fact that you need to change before anything changes externally. again, instead of believing you are a failure, that you are trapped, you simply assume you are successful, and you are not trapped.

people also change their minds all the time, they grow to have a different opinion, they realize they were wrong, they want to give something else a chance, or without a reason, they simply change their mind. these things are not impossible, they happen all the time.

i'm saying this to say that manifesting isn't being delusional. to be delusional is feeling stuck and like things can't change, when they so clearly do, all the damn time. you're not special enough for the concept of change to not apply to you. for instance, you are certainly not the same person you were when you were 6 compared to however old you are right now. you changed, therefore you are capable of changing, and i proved it to you with that simple example.

you only feel stuck because you decided you are, you decided that you'll never be unstuck, and so you haven't been. the law is working, just not in your favor. everything you see in your reality right now, perfectly matches whatever you've assumed to be true. that is not a coincidence. it's important to remember that the law isn't a thing with feelings, it does not care about you or your situation. all it does is continue to operate. it's up to you to use the law's indifference to your advantage.

also, you seem to have a victim mindset. it's very obvious in the way that you try to explain yourself, that you were doing as you were supposed to, but it still 'didn't matter'. you're putting so many things (your job, your bosses, proving yourself) on a pedestal, over what really matters, which is yourself. do you even like your job? did you pursue something you were passionate about? because if not, then you have no business subjecting yourself to any kind of mistreatment, not when you didn't even want to be there in the first place. you should be putting yourself and your desires before even thinking about pleasing anyone or meeting any kind of requirement.

your own standards and requirements should come first. remember : you chose to work for them. you have a choice. you also need to remember that your bosses and colleagues are regular people. outside of work (and in the workplace if we're being honest) they have no kind of power over you. you shouldn't be letting such irrelevant people in your life have the power to instill so much fear in you, to the point where you're having literal nightmares.. about typing a document incorrectly.

also, about feeling useful and competent, that's something you have to decide about yourself. are you useful? are you competent? do you honestly feel this way about yourself? definitely not, which is why you're seeking validation from others. but at the same time, it is what's made you so miserable, because you're definitely not getting that validation. and any you get only gives you a short lived feeling of satisfaction. your opinion on yourself matters more than what anyone has to say. that's literally why confidence and insecurity exist. and either way, you still feel a certain way about yourself that outweighs anything anyone has to say about you.

here's another example, let's say you've been insecure about your looks from a young age. if one day, someone randomly tells you you're beautiful or they think you're pretty, is all the insecurity you've felt for years suddenly going to go away? or will your mind find reasons to reinforce the fact that you don't feel beautiful? and if someone confirmed your insecurities, saying you weren't their type, they didn't find you attractive, wouldn't you just justify that reaction in your mind since you feel that way about yourself already?

with that in mind, how much does anyone's words really matter? do the words of others honestly have any significance when they aren't reinforcing something you already believe about yourself?

your reality works in a similar way. whatever you decide to assume/ accept as true/ shift your awareness to/ decide is true/ feel is certain, your reality will reflect. as well as a bunch of reasons to continue believing whatever it is is true. the law is very indifferent and has no bounds. it does not care about your feelings, your specific circumstances, and so on. that's why i'm telling you, you only feel these ways and experience the things you do, because you decided you were. this goes for being miserable, being stuck, feeling useless, feeling incompetent and living in fear. there are no exceptions.

so, with all that said, what do i suggest? first off, you need to practice being secure in yourself. work on being confident in yourself first, then work on your self concept. i say "confidence" as in feeling secure in yourself within the 3d. so, your looks, your body, your social skills, your physical skills, etc. because "self concept" has to do with having confidence in your manifestation abilities. find a helpful method that works for you, like affirming, visualizing, scripting, rampaging, or just simply deciding something new about yourself and accepting it.

self confidence has to do with things like liking yourself, being your own validation, having optimistic thoughts about yourself, and self efficiency. you can't care about what others think, you have to put yourself first, and you can't let anyone dictate your future. be selfish. the only thing that should matter is you and how something makes you feel. nothing bad comes from putting yourself first and not worrying about others.

once you feel confident in yourself, or even while working on your confidence, practice using the law. you could start by manifesting something small, something specific that would prove to you that you can manifest, then work your way up. manifest bigger things or just a large quantity of things, just to prove to yourself that there aren't any limits. remember, manifesting is just assuming: believing something to be true without proof. i mean that in the most literal, simplest way possible. like the example of success i used earlier.

once you've proven to yourself that manifestation is indeed real, play around with it. also, work on your self concept. decide that things always go well for you, that you deserve good things, you're the creator of your reality, learn to mentally reject unfavorable things in the 3d, and so on. this is what i would do if i were you.

i know this was kind of long, but i hope you understand my words and find them useful. feel free to dm me or send another ask if you have anymore questions. 🩶

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