#in everything except one thing - being absolutely miserable

[honey-lets-fucking-run]

Captain Larsen when shoved into a tuxedo against his will

[bedlamsbard]

Now I'm just mad and that makes me sad. :/ I really do try incredibly hard not to hate things in this fandom, which doesn't always work out because, you know, feelings, and I don't want to think about hating things! I want to think about things I like!

[sometimesanalice]

Bedside Manner

Summary: You were expecting the perfect summer afternoon with the Daggers, but when a game of dogfight football takes a turn for the worse, you’re left with a bleeding head and an aching heart. And it’s up to Bradley to show you his bedside manner.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K

Warnings: A little angst, a little pining, and two idiots in love.

It’s a perfect summer afternoon. Well, almost.

The sun is high in the sky and the steady salt kissed ocean breeze keeps it from being too uncomfortably hot. The coolers are filled with beers and sodas and a few pink cans of rosé that Coyote had brought. And the beach blankets were littered with open half-eaten family sized bags of chips and cubes of bright pink watermelon and containers of various dips and ziplocs with sun warmed and mostly melted chocolate chip cookies.

“You guys, really, I’m fine,” you state as adamantly as you can given the circumstances.

Sure, you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your throbbing, bleeding head. Sure, you are a little afraid to put your full weight on your left ankle and already dreading the long walk back to your car.

But it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything is…peachy. Or it will be as soon as they all stop looking at you like you’re about to crumple to the ground like some 1920’s silent film starlet from on the silver screen.

Nat has that deep pinch between her sharp brown eyes. Jake’s lips are pressed together in a firm white line. The rest of the team stands hovering around you in a misshapen semicircle, all sandy and sweaty, and wearing the concern painted across their faces.

All except for Rooster, who can’t seem to look at you at all.

“Clearly, you’re not,” Phoenix says flatly, clearly unamused by your attempts to minimize the situation. And you wish that just this once she could have let this go and follow your lead. But then she wouldn’t be Natasha Trace.

Your best friend since middle school had always been the most capable and sharpest person in the room and you loved that about her.

Normally.

But not so much when her keen assessment of you keeps you from being able to slink away quietly without fuss. 

“No, seriously. It’s just a little scratch. It’s not a big deal.” It sounds feeble even to your own ears. Trying to hold back a wince when the way you shake your head makes starbursts bloom behind your eyes.

You could have dealt with the pounding in your head if it weren’t for the relentless burning of your ankle that was only making things worse. One or the other would have been easier to manage, but both vying for your attention as the pain pulses with every heartbeat was miserable.

The sun was too hot, the kids frolicking the ocean were too loud, the sunscreen on your skin felt too greasy. All you wanted was a shower and your bed and to forget this whole day even happened.

You look around the group trying to gauge how successful your efforts are, but it’s clear that no one seems to be buying your brand of poorly performed bullshit. You wanted to crawl into yourself like a hermit crab, protected by your own shell, as six pairs of eyes all looked on at you sympathetically, while the pretty brown ones you wanted to see the most were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and trained down at the ground.

It was supposed to be a fun day.

You’d woken up that morning absolutely giddy about trading spreadsheets for sand and sunburns and sea salt tangled hair. Your cheery, new swimsuit already laid out and waiting for you from the night before.

There was something thrilling about hooky on a Friday with all of your favorite people that made you feel all kinds of young and free. Well, hooky for you. They’d been given the day off after a month of intensive training and testing of some new defensive software. They all deserved the break and you were more than happy to tag along.

You were always the good kid in school, never skipping, never missing a class. You’d felt like a rebellious teen as you crafted your ‘out of office’ email, a smug grin on your face like you were getting away with something. Even though you’d earned the right to use that PTO whichever way you wanted.

The anticipation of a snow day from your childhood school days had nothing on the intoxicating promise of a beach day on a golden summer Friday.

The team must have felt the same way too because the group chat the night before had been chaotically amusing. The excitement was palpable enough that you’d almost think you all lived in some landlocked state rather than San Diego, where it felt like all roads led to the beach whether you wanted them to or not.

Somewhere between the string of all capitalized sentences and exclamation points with a few well-chosen emojis scattered throughout, Natasha had managed to wrangle everyone in enough into sorting out who was responsible for bringing what. There wouldn’t be another veggie platter incident, not on her watch.

You’d felt bright and effervescent as you’d pulled into the parking lot, your eyes reflexively seeking out a blue Bronco that hadn’t arrived yet. With a beach chair over one shoulder and a beach bag over the other and a packed cooler bag in your hand, you’d made towards the multicolored sprawl of blankets and the striped peaks of the umbrellas, where you were met with the smiling faces of shiny happy people.

Some of the boys had rushed over to help you carry your things and added your offerings to the communal pile of snacks and sunscreen and bottles of water. It had been easy to fall into conversation with everyone as you set up your own little patch of paradise and shimmied out of your frayed cut-offs. Natasha had given you a wolf whistle and you’d laughed as you give her the finger.

And hour and a half later with an easy grin on his face, carrying a case of beer and two big Ziploc bags stuffed with what you learned later were homemade cookies balanced on top, was Rooster.

You’ve had plenty of beach days with them but every time you saw him in those damn denim shorts he always seemed determined to wear, regardless of how impractical they were, your mind still went a little fizzy as you took in just how well they clung to his thighs.

He’d taken the ribbing from his squad in stride as he unboxed the beers and added them to the collection already chilling in Bob’s bright yellow cooler. You were trying- and failing- to read your worn paperback book when he’d surprised you by plopping his things next to yours on your oversized towel and stole a chunk of juicy watermelon off of the plate balanced on your lap.

“Hey, book worm,” he grinned as he popped it into his mouth, “How’s my favorite girl doing?” That smile of his getting bigger when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Hi, Rooster,” you’d said looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses with an amused smirk.

And if your cheeks felt warm, it was from the sun and not the teasing tone of his raspy voice.

When he’d shrugged off his shirt to apply the sunscreen you’d brought with him in mind, the wink he’d shot you went straight to your head like champagne. The sun highlighting his impressive abs and sculpted shoulders didn’t help either as he took great efforts to cover his chest and stomach with the lotion. He had to be doing it on purpose, because he’d kept rubbing it in well past when the white hue faded. But who were you to complain? Melanoma was no joke.

“You wanna help me out?” he’d asked turning his back to you, looking over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure that he’d been flexing because he’d looked impossibly broad, every defined muscle standing out for eyes to map out and explore.

You’d been at war with yourself, because while your eager hands were desperate to touch him, you also knew that once you ran your hands along his solid frame that you’d never want to stop. That you wouldn’t be content until your fingertips had traced every inch of him.

You had been blessedly and devastatingly spared the choice.

“I got you, Rooster. My hands are already all sunscreen-y,” chimed in Bob, who had just finished rubbing his own freshly applied layer. “Wouldn’t want it to get on her book.”

You were only half relieved to be off the hook, while Bradley on the other hand was still looking at you expectantly, almost hopefully, still with the white and yellow bottle of sunscreen partly extended towards you.

“That’s so sweet of you, Bob-” you’d started.

“Yeah, so sweet-” Bradley grumbled under his breath.

“I appreciate you sparing my pages the sunscreen grease,” you’d said shooting Bob a smile, choosing to ignore Bradley’s comment completely. “Plus, your hands are bigger than mine. You’ll have him covered in no time.”  

Bradley looked between you and Bob before he passed the bottle to the other man, shaking his head a little in defeat. You’d giggled to yourself as you wiggled your book at an openly brooding Bradley, and then leaned back on your elbows to observe the way the attentive WSO made sure to carefully and thoroughly cover Bradley’s entire back.

Respectfully, of course.

Behind your sunglasses you’d admired all of Bradley’s bulk compared to Bob’s lithe grace. But in your defense, they were standing right in front of you and you’d already reread your book at least five times in the past, so it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the scene in front of you had been.

“You look awfully comfortable over there,” Rooster called out with a raised eyebrow.

“Just taking in the view,” you’d teased back.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he huffed as Bob finished up, giving him a thanks, man before tossing you back the bottle of sunscreen. He’d nudged his sunglasses down his nose and pinned you with his gaze, “Let me know if you want me to get your back. My hands are just as capable as his.” Even in the high heat of summer, the way he’d looked at you sent chills running along your arms.

You felt the way his keen eyes traveled from your face, down the deep-v of your swimsuit and along the swells of your breasts, and down your legs to your freshly painted toes. His mouth had ticked up in the corner then left you reeling and your heart pounding away in your chest as he’d strut off to go join Fanboy and Coyote by the mountain of snacks.

And that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. You never knew if he was just flirt-y or flirt-ing.

You hadn’t had a crush in ages, but when Nat had introduced you to her team five months ago, the man with the sunkissed curls and surprisingly attractive mustache had immediately caught your eye.

And as you’d gotten to know him, it had only gotten worse.

Not only was he very nice to look at and could make you laugh until your sides ached, but he also he had depth about him in a way that most men your age didn’t. You liked talking to him and listening to his stories. You liked learning his perspective on things. You liked being around him.

He made you feel interesting and special and funny and seen. You’ve never felt as comfortable in your own skin as you did when you were around him.

Rooster would send you flirty winks, give you less than subtle once overs, and could flash you such devastating slow grins that they’d have you trying to catch the butterflies they released in your stomach for hours after you went home.

But he’s never made a move.

If only he wouldn’t play hide and seek with his true intentions.

You felt like you were still waiting on some small clue whether he was serious or not. You didn’t know if he was just having fun with you or if he was into you and it was more than just friendly banter. It would be so much easier if he’d straight up tell you one way or another.

Needless to say, you’d let Nat be the one to help you with your sunscreen a little bit later. The idea of Bradley’s big hands on you, gliding along your sun-warmed skin and under the crisscross straps of your swimsuit, was too much for your hummingbird heart.

The sun climbed higher into the sky as the butter yellow midmorning transformed into a Midas-touched golden afternoon.

The squad had been able to reserve a fire pit and the plan had been to stay until the sunset. An endless summer day stretching out before them like a cat. They had nothing but time.

Clusters of people came together and split apart like a kaleidoscope as some went to take a dip in the ocean or raid the cooler and snack spread or go for a walk along the shore. Changing and shifting with the direction of the wind, going where the mood took them.

And for a peaceful moment, it had been you with your book and a napping Bradley sprawled out next to you on your towel with his arm flung over his eyes. Close enough that you could feel his warmth, almost but not quite touching. The sound of his soft breaths and the waves their own kind of lullaby as you contentedly read your book, turning your pages quietly to not disturb the man next to you, as the droplets of the Pacific dried on your skin.  

You still don’t know how you got roped into playing a round of dogfight football with the Navy’s best and brightest. You were more of a corn hole or ladder toss kind of girl, but Coyote had all but thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you out before you’d agreed to participate, conceding your defeat.

You were on a team with Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy against Nat, Rooster, Payback, and Bob. A few plays in and you had been getting the hang of it. They’d all been making sure to take care to go easy on you even in the chaos of two teams playing offensively and defensively at the same time. You were more than a little out of breath, but you were having fun.

Before the next snap, Mickey gave the most impassioned pep talk you’d ever heard, “Fuck luck, we don’t need luck. We gotta fucking win.” You had been about to laugh, but then you’d seen the looks on Jake and Javy’s faces and decided against it. Curious about the other team, you’d glanced over only to see Rooster looking back at you.

The calls had been made, the blur of plays in motion as people whirled and dodged and sprinted.

You’d just lobbed the ball to Javy before darting around Nat when a big, solid body collided with you. Hard. You’d felt the twinge of your ankle twisting in the sand right before the force sent you flying in the opposite direction you’d been headed.

The impact had been jarring. The air knocked from your lungs.

Where you should have been met with a mouthful of gritty sand, instead your head had connected with the rough surface of a partially buried rock. The low, thick thud reverberating throughout your whole body.

You’d been so stunned that you didn’t even register you were even on the ground until you heard the chorus of oh fucks and holy shits and goddamns and jesus christs over the ringing in your ears.

The game coming to an immediate and conclusive end.

For how many empty bottles and cans were sitting collected in a trash bag off to the side of your beach set up, they had been surprisingly quick to act as you blinked blankly, trying to clear the spots from your vision.

It was a silent ballet of efficiency as they instinctively fell into their roles, much like you imagined they did the sky. Everyone stepping up and then stepping back as they did their part, like the ebb and flow of waves.

Nat had carefully poured some fresh water from a bottle on your face to remove the sand that clung to the sweat and sunscreen on your skin. Then Jake had wordlessly passed her his clean spare shirt he’d jogged of to get to help stop the bleeding after Javy checked on your pupils to make sure they were the same size. While Bob stood off to the side holding your warped sunglasses in his hands, as if he was hopeful they could still be salvaged. Mickey and Reuben had been waiting in the wings giving you space, ready to help if they were needed, but not wanting to not crowd in.

And from the corner of your eye, you’d caught Rooster standing a couple feet away with his hands in his hair looking absolutely wrecked.

“Bradley?” you’d tried, even though his name stuck to your teeth. But he’d just shook his head at you before turning away slightly, like he couldn’t look at you, which made your heart sting as well.

They only allowed you to move to sit up after they were content with the answer to their questions- What day is it? Friday. Where are you? San Diego. What else hurts? My ankle and my pride.

It wasn’t until someone hauled you up from underneath your armpits that the throbbing and stinging and aching settled over you. The pain seeping and spreading through muscle and bone like an inky oil spill.

It’s still an almost perfect summer afternoon except for the fact you hate everything about this.

You hate the way they’re gathered around you with too many pairs of assessing eyes pinned on you. You hate that you’re the reason the game of dogfight football came to a definitive and abrupt end. You hate that you’re the reason their carefree and fun afternoon off has turned into this.

There’s a pressure building behind your eyes, the hot tears of hurt and frustration and embarrassment are clamoring to be released. You have to bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

And it doesn’t help that you’re the type who’d rather lick your wounds in peace.

You just need to get back to your car and you can figure things out on your own from there. You just need a moment to yourself.

As you open your mouth to argue your case again, Jake puts his hand up and stops you before you’ve even had a chance to start, “I hate to break it to you, sugar, but you’re not fooling any of us.” He says it gently, but gives you a pointed look at the way you’re leaning heavily on your right leg to keep the pressure off of your left ankle.

“That head wound is not a little scratch. Just like your ankle isn’t just a little puffy, when it’s twice the size it should be. You need to go to the Emergency Room,” Nat says, final and resolute. A lifetime of friendship has taught you not to argue when she has that look in her eyes, the one that says try me, I dare you.

They all talk over you as they figure out who is the most sober of the group after your suggestion to call yourself an Uber is immediately shot down. Drinks are being counted on fingers, and memories are searched to make sure every sip and bottle and can is accounted for.

Your eyes drift over to the man who is still actively avoiding looking at you, even as he talks to everyone else on the team. You aren’t paying too close attention to what he is saying, but you can hear the short, clipped staccato of his words.

Bradley’s shoulders are tinged a little pink even though you know for a fact that you had purposely passed him the 65 SPF. His eyes are hidden behind his dark green tinted sunglasses, but you don’t need to see them when you can read his body language better than any book.

His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, the tendons in his forearms flexing and shifting, like he is squeezing and releasing his fists from where they’re tucked under his biceps. Everything in his body looks coiled tight and strained, so at odds with the easy going and loose-limbed man you know him to be.

You don’t realize just how much you’ve zoned out until Natasha has to say your name a couple time before you pull your gaze away from Bradley and back to her.

“Ok, it’s settled,” Nat informs you, “Rooster’s going to take you.” You barely nod your head in acknowledgement when she tells you, because it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach now too.

“It’s the least he can do,” Jake drawls.

“That’s not fair-” you start, defensively.

“Fuck off, Bagman-” Rooster snaps.

The rage in his voice shocks you, you’ve never heard that much heat from him before. There’s none of the teasing tone that usually underscores their banter. Jake puts both of his hands up placatingly like my bad, folks and Javy just shakes his head and sighs.

And this time when you look at Bradley, he is finally looking back at you with a deep furrow in his brow. His jaw is clenched tight, that muscle ticking and jumping, as he takes in the way you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your forehead.

Not exactly the way you’d hoped he’d be looking at you when you put on your new blue and white striped swimsuit this morning.

The one you’d bought because you wanted to make him look.

Just not like this.

With everything sorted the rest of the team trickles away a smattering of take cares and get better soons and let us know if you need anythings. But not before Mickey hands Rooster his stuff and passes Nat your bag and sandals. He gives you the gentlest of squeezes on your shoulder before he leaves to join everyone else back on little part of the beach you all had claimed before things went to shit.

Your group of eight now downsized to a trio.

Bradley is quick to roughly pull on his tank and shirt, and Nat fishes out your car keys from your bag as she waits for him to slip his shoes on. When he’s ready she passes it to him and he silently slides it over his arm.

Nat bends down to help gingerly glide your feet into your sandals, “I’ll grab the rest your things and drop them off at your place and then one of the boys will drop off your car later. We’ve got it all covered, ok?”

“Thanks, Nat,” you say quietly, trying to hold back a wince as she slips the left one on, your ankle pulsing in tempo with your heartbeat.

“Best friends don’t say thank you, they just do,” she says matter-of-factly as she stands. It’s the same thing you’d told her after you’d dumped a carton of strawberry milk on Carly Radke for outing Natasha your freshman year in high school. It was only time you’d ever gotten detention, but it had been worth it.

“They just do,” you repeat with a small smile.

You’re so grateful that your friendship with her is one that has spanned years. That you’ve been able seen one another grow and change and come into their own, but that you haven’t outgrown each other. She’s the person you want by your side and having your back. There is no one quite like Natasha Trace.

She turns to Bradley and you watch him stand a little taller under her sharp eyes, your straw tote still dangling from his forearm.

“You good?” Nat asks him with a look in her eye that you can’t place. And you’re reminded that even though she’s your best friend, that he has also earned a spot as one of her closest friends. Their relationship built over years and experiences that you could never fully understand. Different, but just as deep.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her,” Rooster promises with a stiff nod, as he gives her his word. It might have made your heart beat a little faster if you didn’t feel like such a burden. That it’s simply a twist of fate and three less drinks than everyone else for the reason that he’s the one to look after you. That he’s the one stuck with you.

“I know you will,” she says softer now, patting his shoulder, “Keep me posted.” Nat presses a kiss to your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile then heads off to go rejoin everyone else.

You watch her go with longing. The cheerful beach set up with its colorful blankets and umbrellas looks more like a desert mirage now. The sweet coconut scented potential of what the day could have been now forever out of reach.

And then it’s just you and Bradley and the sound of the waves and cries of seagulls.

The two of you silent and motionless.

You feel one wrong move and the fragile attempt of the stiff upper lip you’ve cocooned yourself in will crack open and all the soft parts of you will seep out into the sand beneath your feet.

His expression is shuttered closed as he bends a bit like he is going to pick you up.

“Woah, buddy, what are you doing?” You’re squinting into the sun as you look at him. You’d step into his shadow to block it, since you’re now in need of a new pair of sunglasses, but that would mean moving to the left which isn’t an option with your ankle.

“Buddy,” he grunts under his breath, slipping off his sunglasses and carefully putting them on your face, being mindful of stinging scrapes and wad of soft cotton you’re holding to your head. “They’re definitely going to have to run concussion protocol on you,” he mutters more to himself than to you, “I’m taking you to the Bronco and then we’re going the ER, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, Rooster,” you grit out, even rolling your eyes hurts, “But I don’t need you to carry me.”

Everything about this was excruciating and embarrassing enough without him being the Clark Gable to your Vivian Leigh. Maybe you could lean on him and hop over to his car? Like a six-foot-one pair of crutches with good hair.

“Take a step without wincing and I’ll think about it,” he says firmly, pointedly calling your bluff. There’s an expectant look of go on then, whenever you’re ready on his face. Because he knows he’s right, and you do too.

You don’t even bother to make a move, but the way your lower lips wobbles speaks volumes.

“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, almost like pains him to be right.

He bends a little to hook his arms around your knees and back to lift you up, and this time you let him. Your free arm automatically wrapping around the back of his neck. And he starts off towards the winking windshields of the parking lot.

You’ve thought about what it would be like to be wrapped up in Bradley’s arms, how good it would feel to be pressed closed against him. And now you are and it’s nothing like you’ve imagined, because there isn’t anything sweet or swoon-worthy about how you ended up in them. You’re his duty, you’re not his desire.

All your sandcastle hopes have been washed away by the tide.

You’re so frustrated. You’re frustrated by the day, by yourself, by him.

This time you can’t blink back the tears that well up in your eyes. They flood through your tear ducts carving hot trails down your sun-tinged cheeks.

You want the Bradley from earlier. 

The one who stole your watermelon with warmth in his eyes.

The one who dozed next to you in the sun like a cat, his features soft free of the tension he now holds in his shoulders.

You want your Bradley.

The one who’d whispered cheeky comments in your ear whenever the team got into lighthearted tequila fueled arguments about things like whether a hot dog was a sandwich.

The one who’d always go up to the bar with you on busy nights at the Hard Deck and make sure you didn’t get bumped into on the way back to your friends with your freshly refilled drinks.

You’re aching, aching. Everywhere.

For a brief moment, as you swipe at your tears, you’re happy for the throbbing in your head and ankle, so that way you don’t have to think about the stinging in your heart.

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting,” Rooster says gentle and low as you sniffle, but you can hear the thickness of the words in his throat. The term of endearment is the sweetest of nothings, making your tears come faster. Where it should ease the heartache, all it does is make you angry at yourself for giving your emotions away. “We’re almost to the Bronco. It’s ok, we’re gonna get you taken care of, I promise.”

We.

You wanted that with him.

You want to press both of your hands to his cheeks to make him look you in the eyes to ask him is it going to be you and me together?  You’ve been a fool for love before, but you didn’t know if could take another hit-and-run with your heart.

The salt of your tears makes your cheeks feel tight and itchy as the summer breeze dries them on your skin.

Bradley carries you like you weigh nothing, but cradles you like you’re the most precious things he’s ever held. He’s mindful of any dips in the sand and gives wide berth around the college kids playing volleyball close to the entry back to the parking lot.

When he reaches the Bronco, he sets you down gently, making sure both of your feet are planted on the asphalt before letting go of you to unlock his car. He tells you to wait a moment when you move to open the passenger side door.

“I never know when I might get called up for an emergency deployment, so I like to have some extra clothes just in case,” he explains as he digs around in the backseat, pulling out a pair of gray athletic shorts.

“Oh.” And you realize you’re still just clad in your striped swimsuit. “Thank you for sparing me from the hospital germs,” you say lightly, an attempt at a joke to break the ice. One that doesn’t land, since instead of cracking a grin he just presses his lips together in a firm line and nods.

Bradley crouches low in front of you and you put a hand on his shoulder for balance as you lean against the Bronco, still trying to keep as much pressure off your left ankle as possible as you step into them. He’s looking up at you and even through his sunglasses perched on your nose, you swear his brown eyes get a shade darker as he eases the shorts up your legs. You’re touched by the effort as he ties the strings in a lopsided bow, even if things are feeling tense between the two of you.

“Think this’ll be easier,” he mumbles shrugging off his light blue button up. You’ve always liked this one, with its soft pastel pink and minty green watercolor prints of net fishermen and hula girls and palm trees.

He holds it open for you, helping you thread your arm through it, and then takes over holding Jake’s now ruined shirt to your head so that you can get your other arm past the sleeve. It smells like him, citrus and amber. Your fingers brush against each other when you reclaim the makeshift bandage, and he adjusts his shirt so that it hangs over your shoulders just right.

It’s an awkward kind silent as Rooster helps lift you into the Bronco with his strong hands around your hips. He is all smooth efficiency as he buckles you in with a click. You pass him back his sunglasses the same moment he hands you your tote bag, and it almost feels like a hostage exchange.

He says nothing as he hauls himself into the driver’s side. The car rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition and a cheery song from the 80’s station on the radio comes on. Bradley quick to turn the volume down low. His thumb brushing your shoulder as he sets his hand on the back of your seat to look behind him as he carefully backs out of the spot.

It’s never felt this strained with him before.

It’s so painfully obvious that the two of you are walking on eggshells around each other. You can almost feel the wall that’s gone up around him. The white noise of the radio drowned out by the hum of the road as he drives in near silence.

Your day has been most effectively ruined by a chunk of sedimentary rock, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still recoup what’s left of it.

He could still have the perfect summer afternoon.

He could still go back to your friends and their perfect beach set up and laugh with them as Coyote keeps accidentally setting marshmallows on fire. He could still catch the bold oranges and soft pinks of the sunset with all the satisfied contentment he deserved to experience.

“You can leave me and go back, you know. I’ll be ok if you just want drop me off and then head back to the beach,” you say looking down at your fingers as you trace the stitching of his leather seats.

When he doesn’t answer right away, you glance over at him. The vein in his neck is standing out boldly against the column of his throat.

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who would leave someone at the ER alone?” he asks, his voice rougher than sandpaper.

“No. No, of course not,” you say emphatically, “That’s why I’m giving you permission.”

“Permission?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.

“Yes, permission,” you say, clipped.

You’re giving him an out, why doesn’t he get that?

He heaves a big sigh and grunts. “Is it… Would you rather have Bob- with his big hands- here instead?” Bradley asks, frustration leaking out around the edges of his words.

“Bob with his big hands?” you repeat baffled, “What does Bob have to do with anything about this?”

“That’s what you said earlier, sweetheart. I’m just citing the source. Or I can call Phoenix? Or…” he pauses glancing at the t-shirt pressed to your head, “Or even Seresin. Once we get you checked in I can call any of them an Uber or something, and they can be there with you, if you don’t want me.”

“No, Rooster, I don’t want anyone else.” You wince at the implication and hope it doesn’t read into it further than the current situation to two of you are wading through like quick sand.

“Ok, good,” he grumbles.

“Great,” you lob back.

His hand tightens on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, “Then where is this even coming from?” The action makes his thick forearm flex in this most delicious of ways that you’d appreciate more if you didn’t feel the anger simmering low in your stomach.

“It’s pretty damn clear that you’d rather be back there, Rooster. Or literally anywhere else right now.” You flip down the sun visor with more force than it deserves, regretting that you gave him his sunglasses back when the bright California sun in your eyes turns your headache into a full-blown migraine.

“Of course, I’d rather be anywhere else!” he says hotly, tossing his sunglasses back in your lap, “Do you think I like that you’re hurt and that we’re on our way to the hospital?” You shove them on your face with an angry huff.

A car speeds by blaring their horn as they pass by.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” he grunts but speed of the Bronco doesn’t change, “Asshole.”

Bradley’s driving five miles under the posted limit, and you know for a fact he religiously drives at least ten miles over. And his turns have been smoother than butter, as if he is trying not to jostle you anymore than you’d already been today.

You are so tired of this hot and cold thing that he’s doing. His words and his deeds weren’t going hand in hand. He keeps giving you the cold shoulder, but is also so in tune with your every movement and need.

Gingerly, you angle yourself in your seat to look at him better, resting your tired left arm on the back of your seat and taking in his strong profile.

“Why are you being like this?” you demand, waving your free hand in a vaguely in his general direction.

“Like what? I’m not being like anything,” he retorts, making the same vague hand gesture as you did a moment earlier.

And oh, if that doesn’t fill your chest with hot indignation. That low simmering anger has turned into a full roiling boil as you shift in your seat trying to get your ankle in a position where it doesn’t hurt.

“Seriously, Rooster? I can feel tension rolling off of you in waves. You’ve been like this since everything turned to complete shit on the beach. I didn’t mean to ruin your day, I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better,” you bite out unable to keep things bottled up anymore.

He sucks in a sharp breath, “Are you kidding me right now? You think you ruined my day?” He glances from the road to you and back again, his brown eyes wide and searching.

“Yes?” Or so you’d thought until you’d seen the shock written all over his face, but now you weren’t so sure. It’s like you’ve dumped ice water on him instead of simply calling him out. “I feel like you’re taking it out on me and I don’t know why.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rooster swears under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I’m mad at myself, because I ruined your day.  I should have been more careful, I should have been looking out for you. It’s not like you’re hard to miss in that swimsuit.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment, but you choose to ignore it.

Misery drips from his words like spilled ink off a page. You knew he was upset, but you didn’t realize he was upset about that. That he’s shouldering this fluke of fate as if it is his burden to bear. Some of the anger you’ve been feeling leaves your body like the tide washing out back out to sea. You’re still upset at him for how he has been acting up until this point, but you’re not mad at him about that.

“Bradley, no. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, an accident I’m responsible for,” he says hoarsely, rubbing roughly at his forehead. “God, I can still hear the sound it made when you hit that rock and it makes me feel sick. I would give anything to undo that moment. I need you to know that.”

He is being so hard on himself and your heart squeezes, this time in sympathy rather than hurt. He didn’t place that rock in the sand, the both of you were victims of circumstance.

“It could have happened to anyone. It could have been anyone,” you press delicately, trying to get him to hear you, shifting in your seat again still uncomfortable.

The sunshine bounces off of his slumped shoulders as he sighs raggedly.

“But it happened to you and it’s my fault. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you’ve been crying. And it’s because of me.” He reaches down with his right hand and lifts up your leg so that you can rest it on his thigh, some of the ache alleviating immediately. He asks quietly, “That better?”

“Yes, thank you,” you murmur. He looks so upset, and all you want to do is curl into his lap. You want to hold him and you want to be held by him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”

You expect him to move his hand back to the steering wheel, but he keeps it on your leg. His thumb stroking your still slightly sandy shin. Your cheery toenail polish at odds with the color blooming around your ankle.

Bradley’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, “Yeah, I do. I know that. But I still blame myself.”

The Bronco rolls to a soft stop at the light. There’s enough traffic that you know you’ll be here for a bit, and so does he since he turns in his seat to look fully at you. You take his sunglasses off, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt that rests above your heart, so nothing stands between his brown eyes and yours.

“So, you’re going to keep beating yourself up over it and icing me out? Making me feel worse? For what, Bradley? Because you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s not fair to me or to you.”

“Shit,” he mutters, his left hand running through his curls. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. I’ve been in my head feeling so damn guilty that I’ve been such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”

You’re about to answer him that when a horn startles you, making you jump in the leather seat. You see the light is green, the car that had been in front of you is gliding through the intersection passing under a blue sign pointing the way to the hospital.

“Bradley, the light.”

The car behind the two of you honks their horn again.

“They can wait. This is important, you are important. Do you forgive me?” There’s an underscore of need that punctuates his question.

“Yes, of course,” you say easily and sincerely. There’s so much remorse in his eyes, you would have forgiven him with that look alone.

“Thank you,” he breathes out in relief. And then he smiles at you for the first time since the beach and that ache in your heart is completely soothed, bandaged by that soft way he is looking at you.

Atlas no longer, he can simply be Bradley.

He takes his foot off the brake and by some miracle he’s able to make it through the light before it turns red again. You can see the tall structure of the parking lot near the hospital poking out above the line of the treetops.

The destination is closer than ever, but there are still things on your mind.

“And you aren’t an asshole, Bradley. But your bedside manner could definitely use some work,” you tease with a smile of your own.

“Baby, I’ve been trying to show you my bedside manner, but you keep holding me at arm’s length,” he groans dramatically.

The idea of experiencing Bradley Bradshaw’s bedside manner makes you feel all kinds of weak in the knees, even as you’re seated in his Bronco with your leg propped up in his lap, his big hand skating up and down along your shin comfortingly.

“How can you even say that with a straight face? You’ve never made a move!” you exclaim incredulously, “I was even the one to ask for your phone number, if you remember.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I hit on you all the time,” he argues with your favorite brand of Bradshaw banter, “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the green light, sweetheart.”

“I thought you were supposed to be pretty and smart,” you smirk.

He barks a laugh and the last tendrils of all the tension and all the pressure that had been swirling around you like a marine layer evaporates.

“You saying I’ve had the green light this whole time?” He looks over at you with a boyish smile, you like the way you feel when he looks at you like this.

“What I’m saying, Bradley, is if you’d have actually asked me out I would have said yes.” You press your toes into the muscle of his thick thigh and immediately regret it, wincing as pain ripples around your ankle.

He makes a sympathetic sound deep in his chest, “Sounds like I’ve been an idiot.”

“A very pretty one,” you allow, leaning your aching head back against the back seat.

“At least there’s that,” he concedes good-naturedly as he pulls into the parking lot, turning on his blinker for a spot opening up near the entrance to the Emergency Room by some twist of fate, one that’s in your favor this time.

Bradley pulls into the empty spot and kills the engine turning to you. He gently eases your foot back down onto the sandy floormat of the Bronco and leans into unbuckle your seatbelt.

He’s so close now looking up at you from under his eyelashes, and your breath catches in your throat. He moves closer, you can see the bits of hazel that surround his pupils. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head up, lips parting at the anticipation of his kiss.

There’s no holding back the noise of dissatisfaction you make when his lips press a tender kiss to your cheek. You lean into him wanting to feel, wanting him to give you more. His warm breath coasts over your skin as he chuckles. You can feel the way his lips are pulled up into a smile.

“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls away, his eyes lingering on your lips. “My mom raised me not to go for the kiss on the first date. Or ones with head wounds and potential concussions.”

“Some first date,” you lament jokingly, looking in at the fluorescent lights awaiting you inside the hospital. You’d rather skip over this part entirely, but you’re ready to be done with holding Jake’s shirt to your head. “Nothing like insurance cards and scrubs to really set the mood.”

“Mmm. How about this, after we’re done here, I’ll take you through whatever drive-thru you want-”

“In-N-Out,” you cut in without a second thought. The novelty of it still hasn’t worn off on you, even if the fries are terrible.

“Ok,” he grins, “I’ll take you through in In-N-Out and get you your number two combo with mustard and grilled onions with a vanilla shake.” He pauses waiting for your nod of approval, looking more than pleased with himself when you acknowledge he got your order right.

“I like the sound of this so far,” you hum.

“Well that’s good. Since it’ll be our first date, I want to set that bar high,” he says giving you a wink. And there are those butterflies again, this time you don’t try to catch them with a net. They’re free to flutter around as they wish.

“If you really want to impress me, you’ll also take me through the McDonald’s drive-thru for their fries,” you muse.

“Done.”

“I was kidding,” you laugh, shaking your head at him disbelievingly and thoroughly charmed.

“Well, I wasn’t. So after we get you fed, give or take some fries, I will bring you home. I’ll get you whatever you need, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Think you might be on crutches for a bit, sweetheart,” he says softly, playing with the ends of your hair. “And then in the morning, if you’re up for it, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or bring you breakfast. Whatever you want. We can call that date number two.”

“And then you’ll kiss me?”

“And then I’ll kiss you,” he promises, offering you a crooked pinky finger. You beam and you wrap your own around his.

He slips out of the driver’s seat leaving you to contemplate the terms of his offer as he rounds the front of the Bronco. The nurses are going to get an eyeful of him in only those snug jean shorts and thin white tank. You make a mental note to avoid looking at him if they have to connect you to a heart rate monitor, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Not yet anyways.

“I have counteroffer,” you announce turning your body towards him as he opens your door for you.

“Let’s hear it, baby,” he says with a grin that almost makes you forget how bad your head and ankle hurt, “Shoot.”

“We still go to In-N-Out, but then in the morning you make me breakfast in bed with some of those famous Bradshaw pancakes I’ve heard about,” you say, as he steps in between your legs, “Seems like a good way to work on that bedside manner of yours.”

“I think you’re going to like my bedside manner, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

You tilt your head at him, taking in the sunkissed strands in his hair and the affection in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

“Guess we will,” he rasps.

Rooster drops another sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering for you to stay put, and then he struts off towards the automatic doors of the Emergency Room. Leaving you alone with the butterflies in your stomach and the hope in your heart.

You dig your phone out of your straw tote and check the time, doing the math in your head.

There are a few messages from Nat and other people on the team already checking in, but you know you’ll have time to reply to them later as you wait with Bradley sitting by your side.

You look up and see he’s got a wheelchair now and is making his way back to you, wearing a soft smile on his face just for you.

Only seventeen more hours until you get to kiss Bradley Bradshaw and you can’t wait.

You’ve got that forever feeling about him.

Oh, oh, oh.

Thank you for reading! Rock on. Oh that joke was schist, I'll see myself out.

This was written as part of @roosterforme's Rocktober Playlist! You can check out all the other great submissions here!

The song that inspired this story was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up"

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Zuck’s gravity-defying metaverse money-pit

Tomorrow (Oct 31) at 10hPT, the Internet Archive is livestreaming my presentation on my recent book, The Internet Con.

Think of everything that makes you miserable as being caught between two opposing, irresistible, irrefutable truths:

"Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops" (Stein's Law)

"Markets can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent" (Keynes)

Both of these are true, even though they seemingly contradict one another, and no one embodies that contradiction more perfectly than Mark Zuckerberg.

Take the metaverse.

Zuck's "pivot" to a virtual world he ripped off from a quarter-century old cyberpunk novel (reminder: cyberpunk is a warning, not a suggestion) was born of desperation.

Zuck fancies himself an avatar of the Emperor Augustus (that's why he has that haircut) (no, really). The emperors of antiquity are infamous for getting all weepy when they run out of lands to conquer.

But the lachrymosity of emperors has little causal relationship to the anxieties of tech monopolists! Alexander weeps because he just loves a good conquest and when he finishes conquering the world, he's terminally bored. That's not Zuck's problem at all. When Zuck attains monopoly status, his company develops an autoimmune disorder, as his vicious princelings run out of enemies to destroy and begin to knife one another.

Any monopoly faces these destructive microincentives, but tech is exceptional here because tech has the realtime flexibility and speed that brick-and-mortar businesses can never match:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

Sociopaths with tech monopolies are worse for the same reason that road-rage would be worse in a flying car: adding new capacity to indiscriminate self-destructive urges turns ordinary car crashes into low-level airburst warfare:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

The flexibility of digital gives tech platforms so much latitude to break things in tiny increments. A tech platform is like a Jenga tower composed of infinitely divisible blocks. The Jenga players are the product managers and executives who have run out of the ability to grow by attracting new business thanks to their monopoly dominance. Now they compete with one another to increase the yield from their respective divisions by visiting pain upon the business customers and end users their platform connects. By tiny increments, they increase the product's cost, lower its reliability, and strip it of its utility and then charge rent to restore its functionality:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/24/cursed-bigness/#incentives-matter

This is the terminal stage of enshittification, the unstoppable autocannibalism of platforms as they seek to harvest all the value created by business customers and end users, leaving the absolute minimum of residual value needed to keep both stuck to the platform. This is a brittle equilibrium, because the difference between "I hate this service but I just can't stop using it," and "Get me the fuck out of here" is razor-thin.

All it takes is one tiny push – a whistleblower, a livestreamed mass-shooting, a Cambridge Analytica – and people bolt for the doors. This triggers the final stage: the "pivot," which is a tech euphemism for "panic."

For Zuck, the pivot got real after a disappointing earnings call triggered a mass sell-off of Facebook stock, history's worst one-day value incineration, which lopped a quarter of a trillion dollars off the company's market cap:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2022-12-19/dramatic-stock-moves-of-2022-led-by-meta-dive-nordic-flash-crash

This was when the metaverse became the company's top priority.

Now, in my theory of enshittification, the step that follows the pivot is death: "Finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

Many people have asked me about the conspicuous non-death of Facebook! That's where I have to fall back on Stein's Law: "Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops." Facebook can't continue to annihilate value, alienate its workers, harm the public, hemorrhage money in support of a mediocrity's cherished folly forever. Can it?

Admittedly, it sure seems like it can. Facebook's metaverse pivot has thus far cost the company $46,500,000,000. That is: $46.5 billion. That's even more money than Uber torched, seeking to maintain the illusion that they will be able to create monopolies on both transport and the labor market for driving and recoup the billions the Saudi royal family let them use for the con:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/11/bezzlers-gonna-bezzle/#gryft

Don't worry: the Saudi royals are fine! They cashed out at the IPO, collecting a tidy profit at the expense of retail investors who assumed that a pile of shit as big as Uber must have a pony under it, somewhere:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/19/fake-it-till-you-make-it/#millennial-lifestyle-subsidy

Uber has doubled the cost of rides and halved drivers' wages, using illegal gimmicks like "algorithmic wage discrimination" to squeeze a little more juice out of the nearly exhausted husks of its workforce:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But Stein's Law hasn't been repealed. Drivers can't drive for sub-subsistence wages. Do that long enough and they'll literally starve: that's what "subsistence" means. We lost a decade of transit investment thanks to the Uber con, at the same time as traditional taxi drivers were forced out of the industry. Uber can't be profitable and still pay a living wage, and the fantasy of self-driving cars as a means of zeroing out the wage-bill altogether remains stubbornly, lethally unworkable:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Which means we're at the point where you can get off a commuter train at a main station and find yourself stranded: no taxis at the taxi-queue, no busses due for an hour, and no Uber cars available unless you're willing to pay $95 for a ten-minute ride in a luxury SUV (why yes, this did happen to me recently, thanks for asking).

As more and more of us are exposed to these micro-crises, the political will to do something will increase. This can't go on forever. "Don't use commuter rail" isn't a viable option. "Walk three miles each way to the commuter rail station" isn't viable either. Neither is "Pay $95 for an Uber to get to the station." Something's gotta give…eventually.

"Eventually" is the key word here. Remember the corollary of Stein's Law: Keynes's maxim that "markets can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent." Sure, anything that can't go on forever eventually stops, but that is no guarantee of a soft landing. You can't smoke two packs a day forever – but in the absence of smoking cessation, the eventual terminus of that habit is stage-four lung cancer. Keep hammering butts into your face and your last smoke will come out a crematorium chimney.

Zuckerberg hasn't merely blown a whole-ass Twitter on the metaverse with nothing to show for it – he's gotten richer while doing it! In the past year, his net worth increased by 130%, to $59 billion, thanks to an increase in Facebook's share-price, driven by investors who stubbornly remain irrational, keeping the Boy Emperor solvent long past any reasonable assessment of his performance.

What are these investors betting on? One possibility is that the rise and rise of Facebook's share-price represents a bet on technofeudalism. Since the Communist Manifesto, Marxists have been predicting the end of capitalism. That end seems to have come, but what followed capitalism wasn't socialism, it was the return of feudalism, an economic system where elites derive their wealth from rents, not profits:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

Profit is the income you get from investing in capital – machinery, systems, plant – and then harvesting the surplus value created by workers who mobilize this capital. Capitalism produces massive returns for its winners – in the Manifesto's first chapter, Marx and Engels just geek out about how productive and dynamic this system is.

But capitalism is also a Red Queen's Race, where the winners have to run faster and faster to stay in the same place. Capitalism drives competition, as other would-be winners pile into the sector, replicating the systems that the current winners are using and then improving on them. This is why the prophets of capitalist end-times like the FBI informant Peter Thiel say that "competition is for losers."

Capitalism's "profits" stand in contrast to the feudalist's "rents." Rents are income you get from owning something that other people need to produce things. The capitalist owns the coffee-shop, but the feudalist owns the building. When a rival capitalist opens a superior coffee-shop and drives the old shop out of business, the capitalist loses, but the rentier wins. Now they can rent out an empty storefront in the neighborhood everyone's coming to because of that hot new cafe.

Feudal and manorial lords also made their fortunes by extracting surplus value from workers, but these rentiers don't care about owning the means of production. The peasant in the field pays for their own agricultural equipment and livestock – control over the means of production is necessary for worker liberation, but it's not sufficient. The worker's co-op that owns its factory can still find the value it produces bled off by the landlord who owns the land the factory sits on.

The jury's still out on whether American workers really see themselves as "temporarily embarrassed millionaires," but America's capitalists have a palpable, undeniable loathing for capitalism. The dream of an American "entrepreneur" is *PassiveIncome: money you get from owning something capitalists and/or workers use to create value. Digital technology creates exciting new possibilities for rent-extraction: a taxi-operator had to buy and maintain a car that someone else drove. Uber can offload this hassle onto its drivers and rent out access to the chokepoint it created between drivers and riders, charging all the traffic can bear. This is feudalism in the cloud – or as Yannis Varoufakis calls it, cloudalism.

In Varoufakis's Technofeudalism, he describes Amazon as a feudal venture. From a distance, Amazon seems like a bustling marketplace of manic capitalism, with sellers avidly competing to offer more variety and lower costs in a million independently operated storefronts. But closer inspection reveals that Amazon is a planned economy, not a market.

Every one of those storefronts pays rent to the same landlord – Amazon – which determines which goods can be offered for sale. Amazon sets pricing for those goods, and extracts 45-51% of every dollar those sellers make. Amazon even controls which goods are shelved at eye-height when you enter the store, and which ones are banished to a dusty storeroom in a distant sub-basement you'll never find:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/14/flywheel-shyster-and-flywheel/#unfulfilled-by-amazon

Zuck's metaverse is pure-play technofeudalism, Amazon taken to the logical extreme. It's easy to get distracted by the part of Zuck's vision that will convert us all into legless, sexless, heavily surveilled low-resolution cartoon characters. But the real action isn't this digitization of our fleshy wants and needs. Zuck didn't spend $46.5B to torment us.

The cruelty isn't the point of the metaverse.

The point of the metaverse is to rent us out to capitalists.

Zuck doesn't know why we would use the metaverse, but he believes that if he can convince capitalists that we all want to live there, that they'll invest the capital to figure out how to serve us there, and then he can extract rent from those capitalists and start earning "passive income." It's an Uber for Cyberpunk Dystopias play.

Zuck's done this before. Remember the "pivot to video?" Zuckerberg wanted to compete with Youtube, but he didn't want to invest in paying for video production. Videos are really expensive to produce and the median video gets zero views. So Zuck used his captive audience to trick publishers into financing his move into video. He fraudulently told publishers that videos were blowing up on Facebook, outperforming boring old text by vast margins.

Publishers borrowed billions and raised billions more in the capital markets, financing the total conversion of newsrooms from text to video and precipitating a mass extinction event for print journalists. Zuck kept the con alive by giving away (fewer) billions to some of those publishers, falsely claiming that their videos were generating fortunes in advertising revenue. These lucky, credulous publishers became judas goats for their industry, luring others into the con, the same way that the "lucky" guy a carny lets win a giant teddy-bear at the start of the day lures others into putting down $5 to see if they can sink three balls in a rigged peach-basket.

But when we stubbornly refused to watch videos on Facebook, Zuck stopped spreading around these convincer payouts, and precipitated a second mass-extinction event in news media, as the new generation of video journalists joined their predecessors in Facebook-driven unemployment. Given this history, it's surreal to see publishers continue to insist that Facebook is stealing their content, when it is so clearly stealing their money:

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

Metaverse is the new Pivot to Video. Zuckerberg is building a new world, which he will own, and he wants rent it to capitalists, who will compete with one another in just the way that Amazon's sellers compete. No matter who wins that competition, Zuckerberg will win. The prize for winning will be a rent increase, as Zuckerberg leverages the fact that your "successful" business relies on Facebook's metaverse to drain off all the value your workers have produced:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/18/metaverse-means-pivot-to-video/

This can't last forever, but how long until Zuck's reality distortion field runs out of battery? That's the $46.5B question.

The market can certainly remain irrational for a hell of a long time. But the market isn't the only force that regulates corporate outcomes. Regulators also regulate. Europe's GDPR is now seven years old, and it plainly outlaws Facebook's surveillance.

For nearly a decade, Facebook has pretended that this wasn't true, and they got away with it. Mostly, that's thanks to the fact that Ireland is a corporate crime-haven with a worse-than-useless Data Protection Commission:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

But anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. Facebook has finally been dragged into EU federal jurisdiction, where it will face exterminatory fines if it continues to spy on Europeans:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/07/luck-of-the-irish/#schrems-revenge

In response, Facebook has rolled out a subscription version of its main service and its anticompetitive acquisition, Instagram:

https://about.fb.com/news/2023/10/facebook-and-instagram-to-offer-subscription-for-no-ads-in-europe/

For €10/month, Facebook will give you an ad-free experience across its service offerings (it's €13/month if you pay through an app, as Facebook recoups the 30% #AdTax rents that the feudal Google/Apple mobile duopoly extracts).

But this doesn't come close to satisfying Facebook's legal obligations under the GDPR. The GDPR doesn't ban ads, it bans spying. Facebook spies on every single internet user, all the time. The apps we use are built with "free" Facebook toolkits that extract rent from the capitalists who make them by harvesting our data as we use their apps. The web-pages we visit have embedded Facebook libraries that do the same thing for web publishers. Facebook buys our data from brokers. Facebook has so many ways of spying on us that there's almost certainly no way for Facebook to stop spying on you, without radically transforming it operation.

To comply with the GDPR, Facebook must halt surveillance advertising altogether. There's no way to square "spying on users" with "you can't surveil without explicit consent, and you can't punish people for refusing."

And of course, "not spying" isn't the same as "not advertising." "Contextual advertising" – where ads are placed based on the thing you're looking at, not who you are and what you do – is hundreds of years old. Context ads underperform surveillance ads by a slim margin – about 5% – but they're vastly more profitable for publishers. That's because surveillance ads are feudal, controlled by rentiers like Facebook, who own vast troves of the surveillance data needed to run these ads. Traditional ad intermediaries (agencies, brokers) took 10-15% out of the total advertising market. Ad-tech companies – the Google/Facebook duopoly – take 51% out of every ad dollar spent.

Eliminate surveillance ads and you torch their feudal estates. Facebook will always know more about someone reading a news article than the publisher – but the publisher will always know more about the article than Facebook does:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-ban-surveillance-advertising

There are rents under capitalism, just as there are profits under feudalism. The defining characteristic of a system is what happens when rents and profits come into conflict. If profits win – for example, if productive companies beat patent trolls, or if news publishers escape Facebook's rent-extraction – then the system is capitalist. If rents win – if investors continue to bet large on the metaverse as its losses pass $50 billion and head for the $100 billion mark – then the system is feudal.

Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. The question isn't whether the platforms will eventually become so enshittified that they die – the question is whether they will go down in an all-consuming fireball, or whether they'll go down in a controlled demolition that lets us evacuate the people they've trapped inside them first:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/09/let-the-platforms-burn/

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/2023/10/30/markets-remaining-irrational/#steins-law

Image: Diego Delso (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Puente_de_las_cataratas_Victoria,_Zambia-Zimbabue,_2018-07-27,_DD_10.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

[creepy-friday]

Can I make a request? Headcanons or a little Oneshot idk of Alastor x Wife!reader? Both being couple goals like Morticia and Gómez. Being evil together, like a good old classical couple 👉👈🥺

Alastor x Wife!Reader

I can see the reader symbolic animal being a crow/bat,and being able to manipulate/manifest them in both physical and shadow form

they would get along with Alastor's manifestations,sometimes he would pet them,have them around whenever you're not since he craves presence

both of you play spooky little tricks on the other demons such as making things levitate,opening the doors,flicking the lights,it's truly amusing seeing the undead fear the ..well..undead

you would give "soft nightmares" to someone then said someone would think they're prophetic and Alastor would further convince them they are just so that they make a deal with him to keep them safe from absolutely nothing

both of you give each other the side eye everytime something happens that both of you don't agree on

he has a shadow attached to you and inevitably the said shadow would try to woo you every chance he has

the "microphone" he has also has to be a little bit oblivious at times.

Both of you sit in complete silence,just enjoying each others presence while doing your own thing then suddenly his mic opens his little eye "what a lovely couple both of you are,what were the odds for both of you to be silent in bed!" Alastor chuckles and you let out an annoyed giggle "did you hear that,dear?" you ask him,putting your chore aside.

"Of course,just don't mind him,but for real now,what were the odds?" he continues to joke about it."No.That was the sound of a fucking divorce." you joke in return making him even more flustered and talkative,getting him all touchy feely with you

for real now,the word "divorce" makes him a top comedian,cook,lover and everything in between,even if it's in the context of a joke,he wouldn't want to lose you

if your personality tends to be more introverted/melancholic he would 100% take it as a challange and would do everything in his power to get you to do something completely out of your character

he never calls you by your name(except for serious occasions/spicy ones,if you know what I mean) but rather uses pet names such as "Honey";"Dear";"Darling"; "Cara mia"

uses every opportunity to dance with you whenever a good song is playing

you don't have to be shy with him,his mischievous personality will totally use it to his benefit and tease the living hell out of you

I have this lil' headcanon that if the both of you are listening in to a conversation and if you can't hear,he would manifest some old headphones to hear better "here you go,darling"

"Husk is adorable" you sing,trying to pet the man in question "Well,I say he looks completely utterly miserable!Of course you find him adorable!" Alastor laughs,bringing his one sided friend closer to your reach

asks your opinion on every important decision he has to make even if he is already sure about what to do.If you have a different view on it he will definitely reconsider

Angel Dust would be all sighs,puffs and "get a room" just because the two of you do simple romantic gestures such as Alastor's gentlemanly behaviour of kissing your hand and such

Vaggie's tolerance of Alastor drops to 0,but she adores enjoys your presence.She wishes both of you would have more time together but your husband always needs to barge in and annoy the living hell out of her.Alastor doesn't really likes her so he wouldn't want you around her that much

dark humour that leaves everyone poker face except the two of you

he doesn't except much from you tbh,just the same old love to be reciprocated

[bad268]

omg im obsessed with your work! could i please request kimi antonelli and a reader who is just kind of sad and cries a lot? or just like some general comfort? xx

Strawberry Margarita Mix (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Menstruating! Reader)

Clingy Antonelli Universe

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (Also, combined this with #3, Figure Skating Anon <3 I love both of you and I hope yall don't mind I made this part of Clingy Antonelli)

Warnings: Menstruating reader, midol mentioned, aged up Kimi

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1430

Summary: The reader's period makes them a little emotional, but Kimi knows the trick.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

It didn’t happen a lot, but whenever you were the clingy one, it meant everything was wrong and the world was gonna end. It was usually only a problem when you didn’t feel good, which was rare. The other common reason occurred every month like clockwork. Your period was one of the worst things you could experience, and it was always a role reversal for you and Kimi. 

He was usually the clingy one, but during your monthly hell week, your level of cling outweighed him easily. It sucked when he had a race, but the summer break was one of the few times you did not have to worry about being separated for races or the like. He made it very clear to any team he signed with that there was always one week a month that he would not be coming in for anything unless it was absolutely necessary. Mercedes was no exception.

Granted they knew about you since you and Kimi had been dating for as long as they could remember, but when he got signed to the F1 team, they continued their original agreement. 

And that’s where you were now. 

You were supposed to be on a boat somewhere in the Maldives, but no. You were curled up in your room, crying because you ran out of strawberry margarita mix. You may have been completely miserable, but you wanted to at least pretend you were on vacation, and when you saw the mix was gone from the last time you wanted to get into the vacation vibe, you just cried.

“I can get you more, amour (love),” Kimi comforted as he wrapped you in his arms, trying and failing to keep the smile off his face. He really wanted to take you seriously, but this was the seventh time you cried today.

The first was because you couldn’t find the remote. Then it was the sunrise was so pretty, it brought tears to your eyes. Then the water was too cold when you took a bath. That was Kimi’s fault, and he apologized. Next, you accidentally stained your favorite pair of sweatpants which were actually Kimi’s, and your throw blanket. You had two separate episodes from that. One because you stained the paints and blanket, and another one because you didn't want to do laundry. Lastly, you cried because you felt like you were missing out.  

This vacation in the Maldives had been planned with a group of your friends, and seeing their posts on Instagram made you feel like you were missing out. However, a small part of you also knew you would be miserable in the Maldives too. You’d rather subject Kimi to your moodiness rather than your entire friend group, but you were experiencing some major FOMO.

Then Kimi had the incredible idea of doing similar things at your apartment like drinking margaritas and tanning, and you planned to go to a beach later in the week. It sounded like a great plan at first, but as soon as you saw there was no strawberry margarita mix, it felt like the end of the world.

“No,” You wined as you hid in his chest. You wanted to stop the tears, but it was harder said than done.”I wanted strawberry margaritas.”

“We have classic lime. Does that work until we can get more?” Kimi tried to offer as he swayed you two back and forth and ran his fingers along your back in a comforting manner. 

“No,” You dragged out again with more tears as you sort of melted in his arms to sit on the ground in the fetal position. You weren’t crying about the margarita mix anymore. Your cramps started flaring up and the last thing you wanted to do was stand. “I hate this.”

I know you do amour (love),” Kimi consoled as he sat on the kitchen floor beside you as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He also snaked his hand between your thighs and stomach to place his hand on your tummy as a makeshift heat pack for the time being. “I know it hurts now, but you’ll get through this. You’re the strongest person I know, and I know you always prove to be stronger each and every month.”

“I don’t feel very strong,” You muttered as you turned to bury your face in his neck, inhaling his calming scent. “Why does it always have to be so painful?”

“How about this?” Kimi starts, He moves his arm from your shoulders to hold your chin, forcing you to look at him. He gently whipped away the stray tears from your cheeks before placing a light kiss to your lips. “I think you just need some pampering and cuddles, so why don’t we go and watch a movie in our room? We can have all of the snacks you want, and if you’re feeling up for it, we can go out for your favorite pasta later. How does that sound?”

“I think that sounds like heaven,” You sighed as you leaned into his hand.

“Good, you go get comfy, and I’ll grab anything and everything you could want,” Kimi left one last kiss on your nose before standing, holding his hand out to help you up as well. 

“Except the margarita mix?” You joked lightly when you stood up, smirking at Kimi as you teased.

“Except for the margarita mix,” Kimi sighed with a small smile. “Now, go before I leave you in the bed all alone.”

“No!” You shouted as you immediately clung to his arm as tears sprung into your eyes again., “Don’t say that!”

“I’m kidding amour (love),” Kimi chuckled as he kissed your forehead before looking back at you. “I promise, I’ll be in our room in like 5 minutes. You go pick a show or movie, and I’ll get all of the snacks for you. I’ll also get your hot water bottle. Let me handle all of it while you get comfy.”

Begrudgingly, you left his side to go take a quick shower to wash off before putting on a new t-shirt and sweatpants, taking care of your products as well. Then you set up in bed. You laid out a towel on our bed just in case a leak happened again before you got comfortable under your comforter and loaded up Netflix. You went to your comfort movie/show and prompted it up for when Kimi came in. Speaking of Kimi, it had definitely been more than five minutes. You gave him a couple extra minutes, thinking he lost track of time, but it didn't take long for him to walk in the room with everything. 

Every comfort snack, drink, candy, and ice cream you had ever mentioned. He had everything for you. He also had a glass in his hand, but you couldn’t see what it was. You assumed it was your comfort drink already poured out. He set all of the snacks around the bed before setting your Stanley cup on your bedside table beside a couple of Midols. He always put water in it and encouraged you to stay hydrated. Then, he put the glass in your hand.

“Thank you, baby,” You said as you took a drink from the glass and immediately made a shocked face. “Strawberry margarita?”

“Don’t be so shocked,” Kimi chuckled as he sat next to you under the covers. “It was pretty easy when you can get things delivered. I have us stocked for a while, so any time you want a margarita, you let me know.”

“Not just any margarita, Kimi,” You graned as you leaned into his side, “A strawberry margarita.”

“Oh, my bad,” He teased back as he played the movie/show. This was what you needed. Just to be held by him. That’s all you wanted and needed in this moment. It was like as soon as he wrapped his arms around you, you were gone. You snacked a little on what was around you, but honestly, crying took a lot out of you. You were ready to just collapse for the next week. You didn’t want to yet, though. You still had one more thing you wanted to say. 

“Kimi,” You whispered as you looked up at him from your place on his chest. He hummed in response, almost asleep but not totally gone yet. “Thank you for putting up with me. Ti amo (I love you).”

“Ti amo di più, mia vita (I love you more, my life),” He whispered back, pulling you tighter against his chest. “Sempre (Always).”

~~~

Part 4 ->

Series masterlist

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König of the Icks (cont.)

More König of the Icks (Because He’s a Giant Dweeb)

Art Credit

König talks through movies

He talks through them so much that he loses track of the movie, and then gets confused and other people have to pause the movie to catch him up to speed

The only way to get him to shut up is to keep his mouth busy. No, not like that, he’s too interested in the movie for that. You have to get him eating.

On this note, König is constantly snacking and while at first it’s cute, it becomes a nightmare.

König has a very mild case of hypoglycemia. It’s not to a point where it causes his any problems when overseas, but it causes issues when he’s home and he’s run out of snacks

He becomes a little bitch

König, when grumpy, is an ass to deal with because he won’t tell anyone what’s wrong but he’ll be snippy and obnoxious and he becomes a total princess about everything.

Bedding’s too lumpy, his seat’s too hard, his book is too boring, you’re talking too much (you haven’t said anything in the past hour), everything is wrong

Eventually you realize he’s just hungry but refuses to admit it.

Now, you have to keep tiny trays of snacks filled in all the rooms he frequents. Usually he likes peanuts and raisins as a snack, but sometimes a dish of dried fruit or a bowl of granola is enough to sate him.

He used to eat junk food as a kid, but he’s since switched to healthy snacks because it makes his mother feel better

Speaking of his mother, he tells his parents everything

He calls his parents at least once a week, and he’ll tell them everything that’s happened since the last call. Yes, this includes things you wish he wouldn’t say, like how you smashed a glass or how you said something dumb over dinner. He’s so happy to share these things and laugh at them with his parents.

Another thing is that he’ll also call all his siblings and repeat these stories to each one of them. It’s miserable. You have to relive your blunders at least five times before it’s put to rest

Until the next family meeting, which is when it all gets brought up again

Speaking of talking to others, once König is comfortable with someone he becomes a bit of a chatterbox

It’s like he has to make up for his dreadful, ominous silence every time he interacts with people he doesn’t trust very much, so you are on the end of all of his vents about the day

You’ll learn things about people you wished you never knew

Roze has a dartboard that she pins her enemy’s faces to, and Horangi has been on the bull’s eye three times the past week

Horangi snores loud enough to wake up König

Hutch one broke Aksel’s phone on purpose and then slipped it in the lounge sofa cushions, then promptly blamed it on Klaus to start a cultural war

Nikto eats everybody’s lunches (except König because König’s reputation around food is too scary to steal from)

Stiletto has hidden stashes of cigarettes all over the base to smoke when people aren’t looking

What you learn about König is that he’s a horrible gossip

König is such a shitter with gossip too because he’ll go on about how everyone keeps telling him things he doesn’t want to hear, but if he doesn’t want to hear it or he doesn’t care about it at all why does he keep repeating it all to you???

He’s literally the worst gossip sometimes. However, the news from the base can be absolutely fascinating

König also has a bad habit of getting caught up in shenanigans

For some reason, everyone wants a König when going on an adventure, and there are only so many König’s to go around so he’s always being pulled into bullshit that is way beyond his paygrade

And example of shenanigans is when Horangi wanted to get over his fear of heights, so he decided to go cliff jumping when on a mission in South Africa. He was too scared to go on his own, so he got König because ‘if the ropes can hold you, they can hold me’ and so König was dragged out to the cliffs

Another time Oz took him to a chili contest back home that ended up lasting for two days before König came back. He still doesn’t know what all the hype is about.

So thus, König is an endless source of good stories, but nobody believes you when you tell them because ‘he’s the big awkward Autrian guy, right? What are you talking about? He never says anything, how the hell did he come out first in a slam poetry contest?’ and so you suffer knowing that you live with all of König’s stories and yet nobody to tell them to

[shootingmorningstar]

[slides on in] well hello there fellow lucifer fanatic

could i request some hcs with luci and an indecisive reader? gn and established relationship!! ex: he asks what they want for dinner and they panic trying to pick something because they feel like they need to decide right then and there or they’ll annoy him.

please and thank you! 🫶

anon, you're just like me fr. i also can never make up my mind and love lucifer. i'd be happy to write this for you .ᐟ

thank you for my first request, by the way ~ .ᐟ now to get to the good part.

LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X GN! INDECISIVE READER

Look at this man. This is the man who has piles upon piles of rubber ducks in his workshop. You cannot tell me Lucifer isn't also indecisive, at least when it comes to less serious things.

Seriously. You expect me to believe he hasn't looked at his own work and went 'nope, looks bad. starting over.' .ᐣ

With that being said, I think he would find it an incredibly endearing trait in you. The concentrated face you make when you're stuck between two options .ᐣ Absolutely adorable.

That is, until the unsure and conflicted look on your face morphs into one telling of your anxiety and worry.

Now, I hope you'll excuse the bird pun, but he is absolutely a mother hen type.

The second he sees even a hint of panic on your face .ᐣ He's immediately shifting all of his focus on you -- if it hadn't been already.

He's rushing over to you without you having to so much as ask -- his beloved partner, distressed .ᐣ No matter the reason, that won't do. He won't rest until he sees you smiling again.

Wrapping his arms around you in a hug, likely even his wings, too. He's suffered so many panic attacks before, he knows just how miserable they are.

He wishes you had come into his life earlier so you could of comforted him through the worst of his.

Even if your panic hasn't dissolved into a full blown attack, he is there. His touch is grounding, it helps you calm down and come back to reality.

When your heart's stopped racing and you look as if you're able to talk about it, he'll ask you just what has you so distressed.

Don't even bother trying to lie to him. He can tell when someone's hiding their feelings.

He won't force you to tell him, though. He just wants to know what went wrong so he can help prevent it from happening again.

If you decide to share your worries with him, he wouldn't belittle you in the slightest. Is it time you need .ᐣ You two have all the time in the world.

Would you rather he choose .ᐣ Because he wouldn't mind.

Or if it's something more serious, he offers to sit down with you and discuss the pros and cons of each -- maybe you two can come up with a decision together .ᐣ

His face sort of falls if you decide to tell him part of the reasoning behind your anxiety is a fear that you'll end up annoying him. Did he do something to make you think he'd judge you .ᐣ

Or maybe he got short with you .ᐣ He's so apologetic. He wants you to feel like you can share anything and everything with him.

He won't let himself start feeling overwhelmed with guilt, though. This moment is about you and the reassurance you need, not his guilt issues.

Explain to him that you know he'd never do such a thing and that it's just an irrational thought coming from worry and he's taking your face into his hands, telling you that he would never, ever think less of you, much less get upset over something as silly as struggling to make a choice.

Like he said earlier, let him help you choose. You two are stronger together and this is no exception.

He's always soft to you, but count on him being even more so than usual for the rest of the night. You two can watch your favorite show or movie -- or whatever you'd like to do to destress. ♡

first request finished ~ .ᐟ how'd I do .ᐣ i'd love to hear your thoughts. feedback fuels my writing muse more than anything else .ᐟ

i'm really hoping this formats correctly, i'm used to using the tumblr app && currently stuck on laptop </3

[halucynator]

Hey babe! Absolutely adore your writing! Do you have any recs?

Thanks! And yes! I'm so glad you asked. There's a lot though so it's gonna be a bit long x

Theodore Nott

@cassiopeiasdaughter : an exceptional writer, their Theodore Nott fics based on midnight songs are the best! Wish them good luck on their uni exams and check out their awesome blog xx

Here are some of my personal favourites from their blog:

August: Theo asks you to be his fake-girlfriend but you understand the assignment a little too well.

Fearless: Based on the song fearless by Taylor Swift.

Maroon: A diary entry written during the War based on the song maroon by Taylor Swift.

Check out their other midnights collection entries!

@avalynlestrange: another great writer! one of the best angst writers on this platform in my opinion x they also write mattheo Riddle fics

These ones are my favourite:

@the0doreslover: in love with their Theo fics!

Foolish one: In which you know you’re being foolish in liking Draco but will you finally learn your lesson? Theodore certainly hopes you do.

In my head: In which Theodore Nott is the man of your dreams. Literally. Who is his?

My favourite one is Cooking class xx

Here are a few Theodore Nott fics from writers who's blogs aren't all about Theo xx

I think he knows: you had fancied the mysteriously quiet slytherin boy for as long as you could remember (since first year), and, quite frankly, your best friend was sick of you going on about it without ever making a move

Now, I did some digging and @dreamcubed writes about other hp characters as well based on songs by Taylor Swift! Their work is amazing so go check them out! Sorry for the late mention, I just checked and realised that they have like a blog that revolves around hp characters xx

Electric touch: a cute guy stumbles into the coffee shop you work at and it alters your brain chemistry.

I thought you knew:“i thought you knew?” “you thought i knew we were dating?” “yes!” “how would i know that, nott, you never told me.”

Want you: Based on the following prompts: Why do you always look at me like that?” “Like what?” “Like you… Want me.”  and "he doesn't even deserve to be breathing the same air as you"

Butterfly Love: Despite witnessing the death of his mother and being forced to grow under the watch of his Death Eater father, Theodore Nott is living proof that love and care bloom even in the most barren conditions. Maybe, they flourish even more.

Mattheo Riddle

@suugarbabe: their fics are absolutely magnificent. I recommend their saving grace series x the rest parts can be found on their blog x

These are some of my personal favourites:

Always: You & Theo have been best friends since year 1. Everyone things you and Theo are going to end up together but both of you like different people.

Drawings: based on prompts 'i never knew that about you...it's cute' and 'i can't believe I've never seen this side of you before'

Oblivious: contains smut Based on prompts "Are you really so oblivious?" And "Can I kill him now?"

@happilykrispypirate: another fabulous writer! Their mattheo angst fics are like the best x the mistake and don't touch her are my favourite xx

Some of my favourite mattheo fics are listed below x:

Black Quill: You never liked Umbridge, but who did? The woman was miserable and cruel. Her power in the school grew day after day.

Mattheo finds you crying alone: Imagine crying alone in the Astronomy Tower, hoping to escape everyone but Mattheo finds you

Torment : Reader is constantly bullied. Mattheo saves her from the bullies.

Everything and nothing: 1 2: where mattheo brings along a girl none of your group is fond of. Especially you. And the timing of it all is horrible.

Draco Malfoy

@talesofadragon: they have amazing fics and their fluff stories are the best! Check them out for Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes fics as well if you're interested xx

These are my favourite Draco fics by them. Their Draco masterlist is here.

Even if it's dark: Summary: Despite being raised in a traditional pureblood household with an overly abusive father, Y/N Y/L/N teaches Draco that light can exist even in the darkest of places.

Mittens: When Draco is in a foul mood and unwilling to disclose his problems, Y/N resorts to her animagus form to get him to talk. 

@fallingforfictionalcharacterss: whenever I feel like I'm going to go back to my Draco phase I read their fics! Another really good angst writer x Their fics are so cool and I love them xx some of their fics I love:

Falling: Where you are falling for the one boy who is known to break every girl´s heart.

False friends and true love: Where you get into a fight with your best friend and she reveals your feelings for a certain boy in front of everybody.

Ruin your life: Why would you kiss out of all the people the boy you hate the most in this world?

@dreamingonfilm: another great writer! Their fluff fics are my favorite! These are some I love by them:

Pretending: in which you watch Draco as he falls out of love with you

Cramps: In which Draco takes care of you whilst you’re on your period.

Bruises: 1 2: After years of being bullied by Draco, you finally stand up for yourself. However, you left him with more than a bloodied cheek and a bruised jaw.

Some other fics that I love:

Amortentia: the rest parts can be found on that post. Summary: Pansy forces a secret out of you, and you’re strongly debating which curse/jinx to use on her.

Unforgivable: Where y/n gets poisoned because of draco's behaviour

Taylor Swift

This is random but if you want someone to talk to Taylor Swift about, check out @annaisabookworm. They're super sweet and supportive and their blog is about Taylor Swift xx I love their posts x

[97linelover]

Where do Broken hearts go? - Jeon Wonwoo

18+ / mdi

summary: Marrying the man of your dreams will finally come true, but what happens when the day comes and the Man is not there?

content: Fiancé Wonwoo x reader, fight, crying, angst, happy end, wedding au

wc: 1.9k

a/n: I watched the firs t part of sex and the City and then I thought I want to write about Big and Carrie. I´m not really happy with it..

Organizing a wedding takes a lot of time and preparation, it takes passion and a vision.

You had all of it, except the time.

When your Fiancé, Jeon Wonwoo asked you to marry him you did not hesitate for a second. You jumped at him kissing him until you both were entangled under the sheets.

But since you were not very patient you wanted this wedding as soon as possible. Perks of being the famous Vogue writer? You could get help from everyone within days.

Your best friend came over helping you planing a sweet little garden wedding with 50 people. Your boss gifted you Giovanni Conti as your wedding planer.

Suddenly your simple wedding dress from a vintage store was now a Vera Wang one that she send you, it was crazy and it happened fast.

While wonwoo was busy working, your list with guests got longer and longer, your bill got higher and higher and your vision got bigger and bigger.

After work you always laid next to Wonwoo on the couch explaining him the details while he listened with a smile on his lips. „I'm sure it will be perfect my love" he kissed your forehead softly „remember the suit fitting with Armani tomorrow" you rambled and he pulled you on his lap „let's forget about everything for a second" with that he kissed along your neck.

But things were to perfect, you became obsessed with the idea of the perfect wedding that you forgot about the most important part.

Your soon to be husband.

Everyday after work you were busy with planing while he waited for you to cuddle, to talk about your day, for you to ask about his.

He looked at you with so much love in his eyes that he ignored to feeling of regret bubbling up.

„The dress fits absolutely perfect" Minjae said smiling while you felt her heart breaking „Jae, I'll cancel everything if you want me too" you took her hands in yours „Chan is stupid for cheating!" she wiped her tears away „it's your night, so let's have some fun" she put on her best smile and you two walked out of the room.

Wonwoo was waiting for you in his suit, looking as handsome as always. „You're breathtaking" he said gasping while pulling you closer „I adore you" he softly kissed you.

„I love you Wonu, so much" you said honest while smoothing out his tie. „Let's not keep the guests waiting" you took his hand walking into the huge dining room.

Everyone clapped as you two made the entrance.

I mean, you two looked majestic walking hand in hand inside the building.

„Thank you all for coming, we are forever grateful for all the loving people around us, Wonwoo and me, thank you all for being here on this journey with us, so let's enjoy the food! To the love" you said with a proud smile and Wonwoo watched you with fond eyes.

While you all talked and had some drinks Wonwoo went out with the boys having a smoke, when he gets nervous he sometimes takes a puff but tonight he declined just watching the busy streets of Seoul.

„Man you're gonna be married, settled" JeongHan laughed „first one to settle"

Yes Wonwoo was the first one of his friends to get married. „But I'm really excited-„ before he could finish the taxi parked and Chan got out.

„Hey Nonu, congrats, I wasn't sure if I was invited because Minjae is the maid of honor" he scratched his neck.

„No chan that's fine" wonwoo said „just maybe keep a good distance to Jae" he said carefully. „I'll grab a drink"

„He looked miserable" Mingyu said while watching after him „he cheated with his secretary after Minjae and him had a fight about sex and she said she doesn't enjoy it anymore" he explained.

„But he loved her, I can't understand" Wonwoo muttered „mistakes can happen" Seokmin whispered . „Let's not talk about that right now" Wonwoo said and the boys nodded walking inside.

„NO I WANT YOU TO LEAVE DON'T EVER TALK TO ME AGAIN"  with that Minjae stormed out of the room and she looked at Wonwoo „I would think twice before agreeing to a marriage" she spat and Wonwoo´s heart fell into his stomach.

Why would she say something tonight? Before he could think more about it Y/N took his hand „I'm gonna head home with the girls, I'm gonna see you at the chapel tomorrow?" she had the biggest smile on her face „I'm gonna see you tomorrow, have fun tonight" he said while softly leaning down to kiss her.

The night didn't end well for Wonwoo, he sat in his leather chair thinking about everything that just had happened. About the last two months. About how they wanted the smallest wedding and now it's one of the biggest weddings.

How you talked non stop about the people that will be there, how you didn't ask about his day at work anymore. He dialed your number „Nonu, is something wrong?" He could hear the chatters in the background „baby" he breathed „wait Minjae" you giggled.

„Sleep well, I love you." he said and ended the call. You got ready the next morning, your dress already on and the last touch was your lip gloss, you smacked your lips and smiled „I'm gonna be Mrs Jeon in a few hours" you looked at your best friend and she nodded „I can't believe it!" You hugged her softly and she sobbed slightly „you look so beautiful, Wonwoo can be lucky to have you"

„Y/N the car is already waiting for you!" your friends rushed outside with you, you all got into the limousine and took a Glas champagne „to Wonwoo and Y/N" Minjae said and you all cheered.

„I can't believe I'm too late at my own wedding" you said with a slight giggle and you got out of the car, you did not realize the car behind you with your fiance inside pleading that you look at him.

„Come on baby look at me, I need to know that it's still about us" he whispered, but you only rushed inside.

„Okay the wedding can start now" you said but the priest furrowed his eyebrows „that will not be possible"  „What do you mean?"

„I mean that the husband is not here" he said nervous.

Your heart stopped, you felt like all the air got out of you lungs. „What do you mean?" she frantically asked „someone give me the phone" you said panicked „SOMEONE GIVE ME THE PHONE" Minjae gave her the phone.

You dialed his number and within a seconds he picked up „y/n" he whispered „where are you?" you asked with hurt in your voice „y/n I called a dozen times"

„WHERE ARE YOU" you yelled „I'm in the car, I can't walk in there, I don't think this is about us anymore "his quivering voice spoke, she gasped „so you're ditching me? On my wedding?"

„Baby please, I tried to call you" he pleaded „I can't believe this" she whispered and let the phone fall „get me out of here" she whispered „where is he?" Minjae asked „he left me here, he did not show up" you breathed „he won't come" you realized what you had just said.

„He won't come" you sobbed „get me out of here please" you began to panic and your friend helped you to get out. You got into the car and you felt like your world just crumpled apart.

You could not believe this. What has just happened?

When Wonwoo's driver began to drive he felt like choking, he felt like all the air has left his lungs "fuck turn around, FUCK" he realized what he had done.  But before he could react he saw the car passing by "Y/N" he screamed out of the window, but the car drove further until you heard the brakes. 

Wonwoo got out and he saw you getting out aswell "listen baby, I did not meant to, I was not thinking straight" but you showed no mercy, your pink bouquet landed with slaps against his chest, you screamed at him. 

"YOU USED ME" You screamed "I HATE YOU SO MUCH" the petals were flying around "how could you do that" you whispered heartbroken and your friends carried you back to the car "don't ever claim your love again" you looked at him with so much pain in your eyes that he felt like screaming. 

The people around you looked at the scenario in front of them and you could not blame them, you would look aswell. 

When Wonwoo watched you drive away he got into the car driving towards the Apartment you both shared. 

He walked over to the whiskey table, grabbing directly the entire bottle.

Meanwhile you walked inside Minjaes building, your Make up smudged, you hair messy and your white dress full of Mascara stains. 

You walked passed the mirror and you began to Panic "get me out of it" you pulled at the white fabric, it felt like the dress would suffocate you "GET ME OUT OF THIS" you cried and Minjae grabbed some scissors. 

"do it" Hyerin said and the cut the ties so that the dress fell down, you fell to the floor and just sobbed. 

Three weeks passed, three weeks where he did not get any response from you, his friends told him that you went on the honeymoon trip with Minjae.  He wondered how you are, he wondered if you're still thinking about the day, because the only thing he could think about was the moment you left. How you took his heart with you. 

He started staying late at work because he could not deal with the empty bed, he worked so much that his colleagues began to worry. But he shut down everyone, he felt empty and like the biggest douche ever.

He entered the apartment at 11 pm on a Tuesday when he saw your shoes at the entrance, he rushed inside placing his work bag on the floor "Y/N?" he walked inside the living room where you were sitting on the couch, you were dressed in a beautiful summer dress, but you did look tired. 

"You're back" he whispered and you could only nod "I saw your message, and I think we need to talk, we need to talk about what has happened so that I can finish this chapter and close this book" Wonwoos heart fell into his stomach "no baby, there is no closing this book, finishing this chapter yes, we will redo this." he lifted your chin softly "we will focus on us, only us" his thumb stroke your cheek. 

"you and me Baby, only us" he leaned his forehead against yours "you don't know how sorry I am, god there's nothing more that I want than marrying you" he was completely honest. 

"But I want us alone, I want nobody around us" before he could say anything else you kissed him "I really hope you don't ditch me again" you whispered jokingly. 

"god I missed you" he lifted you up kissing you softly, while he carried you inside the bedroom. 

And here you were now one week later at the registry office, standing next to wonwoo.

"I declare you as Mr. and Mrs. Jeon" the elder lady said and smiled at you two "you may now kiss the bride" and Wonwoo wasted no time, he kissed you passionate and you smiled into the kiss.

"we did it" you cheered "we did it baby, you and me" he agreed to you and kissed you again.

[maehemthemisfit]

Hc that while Scaramouche was very "what are you doing? No that's stupid get away from me" wanderer is very "alright." He will tell you it's stupid still but he isn't going to stop you. You wanna put pigtails in his hair? Yeah, well, he's going to take a nap on your thighs and take them out when he wakes up. You wanna run up to him and hug him? Alright. He might hug you back. Casually.

I don't think he's good with emotions yet and he's still probably scared of being "weak" but not as much. Which allows him to enjoy his s/o more!

One thing that does not change is his reaction to someone hurting you. I'm talking more physically here because I can see Wander having some restraint with someone being verbally rude to you. Physically though? All bets are off. He's tracking them down and making them regret they were born. Murder, when it comes to your safety, is always on the table.

Wanderer is a bit more "big dog privilege" than when he was Scara mostly just because he has free time. Scara def made sure people didn't mess with you, but now Wanderer can go on late night walks with you. You wanna go to some event? Well, humans are fragile creatures and if he looks away from you for two seconds you're more likely to straight up die so he supposes he could go with you (he worries.)

In essence, Scaramouche is ur bf who's very emotionally unavailable and Wanderer is your emotionally unavailable boyfriend who lets you get away with everything

AHEM

There's only so many times Wanderer can keep up his uncaring façade. Sure, he may roll his eyes at your forms of affection and make a small fuss about a few of your ideas for dates, but if you ever backtrack on any suggestions or hesitate when touching him, he's immediately taking back his words... by making it seem like he doesn't mind or that he's "only doing this for you so you won't whine about it later."

Wanderer: You wanna use my hat as an umbrella? Hmph. THE AUDACITY TO EVEN-

Wanderer 1 min later: *holding you close to his chest so you won't get wet* sigh, stop moving. do you want to get wet? 😒

Same with Scara, except his ego my win a few times and he does grumpily watch as you walk away, too stubborn to admit his act.

Even though his words don't express it, his body never fails to. Those hugs he'd sometimes reciprocate, becomes more frequent and he holds you closer to his chest. He'd fine more excuses to hold your hand, even if none of them make sense.

Its a... very slow process.

If someone ever lays a hand on you though, Wanderer would absolutely be livid. Thoughts about murder though? It depends on the severity. If someone just shoved you on the street he'd probably make their day miserable, but if someone genuinely attacked you with intentions to hurt you as much as they could...? MURDER?

Nahida: Is never the answer!

Wanderer: ...

Wanderer: But it sure is the question! YOU DARE TO GAZE UPON-

Nahida: *sprays with water* 💦🔫 No, bad Wanderer!

He'll get his revenge without causing death. She never said violence was was off the table. Dottore though? Murder is always the answer.

Emphasis on the scary dog privileges, I swear his glares burns right through peoples soul.

.° ୭ ៳ Genshin Drabble Masterlist・✩

[natasha-in-space]

Okay, okay, but can we talk about the implications of the RFA preparing us these gingerbread cookies? I know they made it look all neat and tidy for us (Saeran and Jumin wouldn't have it any other way), but there is definitely a story of a completely destroyed kitchen behind them.

I can see it going two ways: Either they each made a cookie individually, or they mitigated responsibilities between one another. For the sake of this being funnier, let's go with the first option!

Yoosung is likely to take a few attempts to complete his cookie. Not because he is bad at it (he was forced to help out making gingerbread cookies with his family almost every Christmas), but because he wants to make it perfect! After all, it's for their party coordinator! And he wants to impress you! Overall, he does a clean enough job, and his cookie turns out in a way that leaves him proud. If only Saeyoung didn't prank him once or twice in the process, that redheaded rascal!

Zen will definitely need some help. I'm sorry, I know he can cook and he is willing to learn for you, but as of now, he is rusty as heck. Surviving on nothing but salads, beer, and occasional snacks will not turn him into a good baker. He will try to follow the recipe, but he will either end up messing up, or he'll get all huffy about the cookie not looking right, and not representing his true beauty. He wants his cookie to be as handsome as he is! (Jaehee will enthusiastically agree to this statement) Actually, I can see Jaehee being the one to help him out. Maybe even in secret from everyone else, so he wouldn't get teased about it. Plus, Jaehee is just as motivated to make this cookie perfect!

Speaking of Jaehee, just like with everything else she does, she will do her job quickly and perfectly. No fuss, no muss. She'll be very clean about it too. It's like she wasn't even there in the kitchen. I don't even have much to say about her, because she's just too responsible and diligent for her own good. No silly gags, just a perfectly baked delicious cookie. She'll be very proud of it, too. Make sure to compliment her! She'll get all giggly about it for sure.

Jumin is... He can bake. In fact, he is a very good baker due to his natural ability to follow given instructions precisely. But, the problem with Jumin isn't that he can't cook or bake, as it's often assumed, it's that he gets too damn curious for his own good. He is like a cat. A creature of curiosity. Will try doing different techniques and adding new things, just to see what will turn out. He finds baking to be like a science and is captivated by it. Everyone in the RFA are horrified. It's like watching the ticking bomb go off. Everyone except for Jihyun. That man is just chuckling away in the corner and occasionally poking fun at his friend, because he knew it would end up that way. Although he will have to step in, once Jumin decides to try something a bit too crazy. Can't have their party coordinator shocked in a not so pleasant way! Jumin will still present you with an entire collection of gingerbread cookies later, though. He's too proud not to. What an absolute dork.

Speaking of Jihyun, I don't know why, but I always pictured him as a pretty bad cook and baker. I don't have any canon evidence for it, this is just pure headcanon territory. He will try. Dear Lord, he will try his absolute best for you. But, his gingerbread cookies will turn out looking just as sad and skrunkly as he is. It's like a curse. He might just come to terms with his cookie looking as miserable as ever, but I like to imagine Yoosung helping him out in the end! Just because I'd like to see them bond in a cute and happy way for once. Who knows, maybe this will become a new tradition of theirs! Yoosung teaching Jihyun an art of cooking and baking. And, I think Jihyun really does view it as an art. Then again, his artistic nature can make even the most mundane of things into a beautiful metaphor for something. He just needs someone by his side to watch out for any smoke.

Saeran is one step behind Jaehee when it comes to getting the job done. He's a bit more messy, because he likes to have fun while baking (especially when he's preparing something for you), and he will definitely prepare a good batch of different variations, before he decides on the final one. Funny thing about Saeran is that the kitchen will be squeaky clean, but he will be covered in flour, frosting, and other things. He doesn't know how it happened. No one does. But, it does give his brother some opportunities for playful teasing. Much to Saeran's exasperation (but there is a smile on his face as he huffs and puffs at Saeyoung's jokes, and it melts his twin's heart for sure). Also, he will prepare gingerbread cookies for Ray and Suit, but will leave them to give those two to you later in person. These are special.

And, last but not least, we have the final boss. The one who turns a cute idea to surprise you into a raging disaster. The man behind the slaughter. Saeyoung Choi. Boy, oh boy. It's true that no one wanted to allow him to bake. Everyone was aware of what was to come. But, once they saw that painfully familiar sparkle of inspiration in those golden eyes of his? That wicked grin that just screamed of mischief? His numerous babbles in the chatroom about 101 facts regarding gingerbread cookies? It was obvious. There was no going back. Only forward. He would bake that cookie with or without them. And, Saeran would much rather be nearby if something caught on fire. The cookie you see on the plate is adorable. It's perfect. Tasty. But, there is a story of true terror behind it. Dozens of fallen gingerbread cookies, lost at the hands of a mad redheaded genuis who was having way too much fun mixing ingredients that should never be mixed. How in the world did he get flour onto the ceiling? No one knows. Why is there a batch of Dr Pepper flavored cookies laying on the counter? Why, that's another mystery added to the pile. Did he create some kind of ungodly invention or a full on robo-arm to make cookies for him? Ask Vanderwood for that.

[echantedtoon]

Not Thy Neighbor, Thy Want-To-Be Lover

As you sit and do your job, a monster who's became infatuated perfects himself into the perfect man to become your husband.

(Warnings for mentions of death, blood, killing, and maybe yandereish themes.)

"Mmm...Hello."

A thin glass was all that separated himself and the one.

Tired eyes stared endlessly into the glass, the one thing separating himself from the one destined to be his. The image reflected in the glass and staring into his soul was one of perfection. Spent MONTHS perfecting on and heading many warnings for in order to slip by and gain access to what's destined to be his. Tired eyes that took a lifetime to perfect darkening his skin cells to the exact right shade of black to pass as sleep depravation. Forcing his outside to crease to perfect every wrinkle. Spots to form every freckle. Every little detail on the outside.

Just so he could come back every day and see her again.

"Mr. Mosses?"

"Hm?" Perfectly replicated eyes blinked surprised at the woman on the other side who just rose a deadpanned brows higher. "I asked for your identification, Sir." Her petite hand gestured a finger pointed downwards meaning the slot hole in front of him. "If you could please hand it over, Mr. Mosses."

Professional.

She was always professional. Never asking about your day or small talk legitimately at all. Only professional talk doing her work until her night shift was over and the day doorman came to take her place until her next shift again. The room he stood had two doors. One leading into the building and one leading out with both being able to lock him securely in until the disposal team came in to kill him.

IF he was caught that is. 

He hasn't been caught YET. Many run ins with trying his disguise out on the outside and on people who knew the old milkman ensured his new body would get perfected everyday. Every second. All just to start his new life in society and eventually getting everything he wanted. 

"I'm sorry. Yes of course." Hands perfected humanly reached into his clothes and pulled out a stolen ID card but it was technically him now so rightfully it was his too. The small thing slid into the slot and down into the small secured office as her eyes looked at it. "Forgive me. The extra shifts have gotten me a little tired."

"Please ensure that you remember next time,Sir," was her automatic response as she held it up along with two pieces of paper. No doubt comparing the actual legit ID card to the information on the sheet. The other one a checklist her hand marked off with a pen. Always following every procedure to the T. He'd expect nothing less of the one who'd be his wife. "Entry request form please."

"Of course. I have it right here." Another smaller folded piece of paper was taken from the same pocket anf inserted into the same slot. 

Her hands unfolded it as the same routine as the ID card examination repeated. She was perfect as she read. Eyes narrowed in focus and brows furrowed in determination. She was all perfect. It's what he wanted really. There was others of his mind that took her nature for granted but all almost had the same dream. A life. He wanted that when he first came to this place. It was plastered as the one true life and he fell hard for the fantasy.

To live a life of normality. Humanity. 

Having a nice home with a picket fence and a steady job with a cute little wife and children to come home to. He knew he wanted that. What counted as 'family' to him before was nothing. Only caring about themselves. Most of his kind were killers. Killing their way to get a place in society only it failed miserably every single time for the blood thirsty ones. He never saw a Dopple that was successful except one. In human terms she would've been considered his 'cousin' as she was a spawn born from one of his sire's 'siblings'. He recognized her even through her absolutely PERFECT human disguise. She had taken a woman's place, Lois Stilnsky if he remembered right. She looked perfectly happy hanging onto the arm of her new husband and bouncing a toddler son that couldn't have been older than two maybe three at the time he saw the family. Whether the baby boy was hers after taking the old wife's place or was already born before his possible original mother was done away with he didn't know. But she had looked absolutely happy to take over his raising herself and become a wife and mother.

He wanted that. By any means necessary. Oh he never killed the original Francis. Yes he copied his appearance. Yes he took the old Francis's ID. Yes he now WAS Francis Mosses..But he wasn't the one who killed the original. He wasn't sure if he was going to kill the original. Oh he heavily contemplated it as he studied every route he made on his delivery route. Studying EVERY customer new, old, and current. His boss, coworkers, friends, but no family..He didn't have any family left which made things easier in the long run. But besides the point- He spent HOURS looking through windows studying every INCH of his apartment and routine just to make himself perfect! 

However he wasn't the only one who decided he'd be the perfect topic. He studied him and spent time making sure he'd be perfectly blended in. The one who actually did the deed was fast and hasty. Did away with the original messily. He still cringed at the gruesome memory of him being devoured like a steak fed to a dog. The idiot then adapted his form and ran off without even taking the ID or forms needed. He was dead within minutes of trying to waltz into the building covered in blood.  He vowed to never take a human life after that after all that wouldn't fit into his new life. 

He waited half a day after recovering what he could from the wreckage to seize what he needed being sure to thoroughly clean them off before deciding to go into his new life. He probably shouldn't have. He was shaken up with nerves and fear, his outside appearance while perfect was disheveled and unkempt. He was so sure when he turned in the papers into the day doorman he'd be killed but oddly his appearance ended up working in his favor-

"Oh, Francis!," the stranger exclaimed as soon as he saw his shaking form. "Thank goodness you're ok! I've been getting a few calls from your boss asking if you were here! I was worried when I heard your truck was found with you missing!"

"Um..Y-Yes." he stuttered feeling sweat run his new face. "A doppelganger ended up throwing the door open and tried to get me but thankfully my driver's door was open so I just jumped out and ran. Hid in an alleyway for a while until I thought it was safe to come back."

It was half a lie. The other Dopple did jump into the van and Old Francis did manage to get out and away...but the poor soul didn't make it past an abandoned building before he was a goner.

The day doorman nodded with a smile. "Well thank goodness you're alright. I'll happily call your boss back to ease his worries."

"T-Thank you B-But I'm tired and just want to shower. Can i-I go inside?"

"Sure! I just need to see your ID card and request forms. Better safe than sorry than they say. Y'know that Doppler was in here looking like you but it must've gotten hungry and eaten a stray dog or something. Tried to pass off the blood as 'scarlet milk'. What do those things take me for? An idiot?!"

"Heh..R-Right. A lot of them aren't t-too bright." He shook so badly handing the cleaned up forms to him. He was going to die next he knew it.

"You got that right." He hummed looking over everything very quick before smiling and to his shock pushed them back through the slot to him. "Okie doke! You're good to go! Try to rest up ok, Bud? You've had a really scary day by the sounds of it."

"Mmm. Yes. Scary."

He shook with every step taking the forms back and heading to now his home. He couldn't believe it himself. His now boss calling his now apartment to be sure he was ok before giving him the next week off to collect himself. It gave him a good chance to check over his now belongings and the rest of the home he never got to see through the windows. It was..nice. Pretty plain. Bland. But normal and certainly an upgrade from the alleys and rooftops and abandoned buildings especially in bad weather. It wasn't until the end of the week when he went to his now job and did his now rounds. It was late at night coming back for the first time at such an hour and to his surprise it was not the friendly now friend of his day doorman. No. He stopped cold. A fist seizing his heart as the most beautiful woman he's ever encountered looked at him neutrally.

"Entrance request form and identification card please."

He now knew what love truly was. 

"Both are correct." Her hands pushed the two things back through the slot continuing to check off the list before leaning back to look at something on the wall. "...And you're expected as usual. Will you please take a few steps back to be examined?"

"Mmm. Alright." 

The usual thing. Making sure he didn't have any abnormalities on his upper body, lower body, sides, and back. Taking a few steps back for her to fully look him over arms raised and fully turning around to let her see his entire body. 

"Take off your hat please." He obliged his his picture didn't have his hat on him and she probably wanted to check him for any horns or other things. "Alright. Give me one moment to call your apartment to confirm your status." Yep. Every. Single. Step. By the book. 

He couldn't wait to have her in his arms. In a wedding dress in that magical day he always heard about. Having their own little ones running around. The picture perfect family as he went to work and brought home the bacon and came back to a smiling wife with children playing at her feet and dinner waiting for him. Maybe even a dog too. He'd like to get them a nice house in the countryside. Away from the disgusting city. He heard that was ideal for growing families. 

"Alright. No one's home. So it all checks out." The phone was placed back with a click as she looked at him. "You're free to head inside. Have a nice night, Mr. Mosses."

The door opened with a loud noise ...but her brow rose in surprise when he instead approached the window and leaned down. "Actually I have a question for you if that's alright."

"And that being what, Sir?"

His smile brightened. "Would you perhaps like to have dinner with me sometime?"

[saiscribbles]

So apparently the line now is that ANYBODY responding negatively towards Lily is now one of her “harassers”. It’s always the most abusive, cruel fucking people who are the most fragile to any outside negative attention or criticism whatsoever. Being a public facing media ‘critic’/‘analyst’, Lily should be able to understand people not dogmatically agreeing with her on fucking everything. But she’s an incredibly overdramatic/insecure person by nature, so she kind of just breaks down into sobbing and abusive lashing out whenever anybody DOES tell her that she’s wrong or disagrees with her!

Absolute coward. Lily is exactly the kind of sniveling little puke who will run their mouth, act tough, talk a big game, be nasty to everyone around them, make absolutely outrageous claims and accusations about other people but as soon as anyone pushes back will run off with their tail between their legs. Good riddance, she can continue to shrink her online presence until it's just her and her Discord sycophants being miserable together. Gonna just lump some more Lily asks in this post.

Lol yes.

Anon it makes me some side money and is fun for everyone except Lily. I consider that a win-win situation. Though my YouTube channel will probably graduate from Lily eventually. Not that I won't talk about her when something funny happens but most of her other videos are either just really boring, completely incoherent and sometimes never actually talk about the topic the video is supposedly about.

Otherwise after Utena Week I'll be doing more game streams and my usual Wednesday stream where I draw and talk, and sometimes react to things.

Lily is definitely contrarian on purpose, but its not even in the a way a normal person would be. Every opinion Lily expresses seems to be wrapped up in her own rigid ideas formed by her own narcissism, seeming hatred of fandoms just having fun and discussing things, the same 5 or so franchises she allegedly enjoys, her baffling inability to understand any media she consumes and just overall being a case study on the Dunning-Kruger effect.

[ichangedmycornyahhname]

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

𝔹𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕪!𝔸𝕠𝕟𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕩 ℕ𝕒’𝕧𝕚!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

Warnings: A little angst | Aonung being a bitch | Not quite smut but spicy (might be smut if I make a part two) | Dry humping | Humiliation kink | Choking | Degradation etc.. | Slightly proof read | if I’m not lazy I’ll make a part 2

Summary: After hearing about an incident with the Sullys, Y/N travels to the metkayina clan with Norm to help out. While she would’ve loved to enjoy the trip, it would seem a certain someone was there to make her life absolutely miserable. (Part two here)

The chopper buzzed in her ears as the cool breeze cut against her skin. Her hands fiddled with the small keychain she’d taken from Norm, her adoptive father of sorts. After the fall of the great tree and the loss of her parents, Norm took her in along with several others. She’d always had a strong connection with him, viewing him as her father figure. With her parents passing when she was only a baby, she didn’t have any real memories of them. Only stories that others told, praising them of their great feats and contagious personalities. Y/N always enjoyed hearing about those stories, to hear about how her parents impacted other peoples lives. All except for hers.

An exasperated sigh left her lips as she allowed her head to rest against the back of her seat. Across from her sat Norm, a small smile on the face of his avatar form. “Hey, what’s up?” He leaned forward, placing a hand lightly onto her knee. She could only smile in response, shaking her head at his question. “It is nothing. Just thinking.” She chimed as she slipped the red keychain into the pocket of her jean shorts. Y/N knew it was odd for her to wear manmade clothing rather than the traditional omaticayan attire. It was just what she felt comfortable in, and what she saw around her as a child. Her eyes flickered over to Norm’s once more, her smile fading away just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Kiri, do you think she’s okay? Jake sounded worried when he called for us.”

Norm gave her knee a squeeze before his hand retreated back to his lap. “I’m not sure what to think, but I’m hoping everything will be okay.” He replied, his gaze softening at her concern. “Hey-“ Norm leaned to the side, peeking his head outside of the chopper. “We’re here. Cmon grab your things kid, we need to be quick.” He said as the chopper began to descend. As it did she peeked over the edge just as Norm had done. She was in absolute awe. Y/N had never truly visited the sea. In fact, she’d never left the forest. The only reason she even tagged along was because she had missed the Sullys, but now that she took in the beauty of the metkayina clan, she was awestruck. The pale sands, the crystal like waters, and the beautiful metkayina people entranced her. She hurriedly went to grab her supplies as norm had asked. Tossing her bag over her shoulder she awaited the ships landing. As soon as the chopper met the ground, she hopped out, her feet meeting the warm sand. The minuscule grains crunched beneath her feet and sunk between her toes, managing to draw an airy chuckle from her. “Cool.” She murmured to herself before Max shouted her name, urging her over. “I need you to wait for us here okay. We’ve got this, so just chill for me.” Y/Ns expression contorted into one of disbelief, her jaw slack as a brow quirked. “What? That’s so unfair Max. I came all this way to help and now I have to sit like a kid and wait? Ugh.” She rolled her eyes, her tongue clicking as she stared down at him.

“Y/N I’m being serious, just wait here and watch the ship. Now I’ve got to go help. Stay, here.” He gave her a stern look as if he was warning her not to disobey. “Yeah yeah..” She sighed, her arms folding over her chest as she leaned against the air ship. She could feel the eyes of the metkayina people on her, watching her and the ship closely. To say that it was awkward would be an understatement. The longer she stood there, the more she desired to escape their judging stares. That, and she wanted to explore the beautiful island. Y/N thought about it for a moment, going over different scenarios of how Max would lecture her if she left the ship. He’d probably say what he usually did. “You can’t just do that Y/N— No Y/N go to your room— blah blah blah.” She almost laughed at the thought. Except she remembered his words. He said that she had to watch the ship, and she could easily watch the ship from another part of the island couldn’t she? She pushed herself off of the ships side, the warm metal no longer against her back.

“Alright Max, I’ll watch the ship.” She chuckled to herself before departing from the coastal side. As she wandered deeper into the island, she observed even more. The exotic flora, the beautiful fauna, and the metkayina people. To her, they were just as mesmerizing as the rest of their home, yet their stares of distaste and confusion began to make her think. Y/N knew she was different from others, she was used to the stares of her own people. Even they believed what she wore and how she acted was odd. Yet the metkayina people looked completely different around her. Their skin was lighter, allowing them to blend in with the crystalline waters. Their ears were smaller, and they also wore traditional clothing. Y/N was the odd one out, again. Her confidence fell, along with her gaze. The sand suddenly seemed much more interesting than the harsh stares from the people around her.

Y/N wasn’t paying any mind to her surroundings, that much was apparent. Her gaze was locked on the sand padding beneath her steps, and less on the approaching group. Thud, she stumbled back, a gasp leaving her as she steadied herself. “Sorry..” She muttered as she peeked up through her lashes, her gaze falling on the man in front of her. His eyes narrowed, watching her intently as he laughed maliciously. Y/N noticed the other laughs surrounding her, the sight of three other boys around her age pointing and gawking at her. “What’s wrong with the way she talks? Sounds so weird. And look at her tail, it’s so skinny.” One of the boys chimed in as they attempted to grab at her tail, before she swatted him away with her hand. “Stop it..” Her voice was quiet, unsure.

“Stop it.” Another boy mocked before laughing once again. “Are you another one of those forest freaks? I mean, I can tell. What are you wearing freak? You’re dressed like one of those demons.” The one she’d bumped into spoke, his eyes trailing along her body as he circled around her. His eyes wandered her unusual figure, her annoyingly dark blue skin, her big amber eyes. Just the mere sight of them boiled his blood, irked his entire being. Yet, she drew him in like a moth to a flame. Which is why Aonung found himself circling around her, a smirk slithering onto his face as he took in all of her features. Her thin striped tail and the way it whipped around as he teased at her. Her odd clothing and the way it hugged her body just right. What a freak. “Hey, you think she’s even a real forest freak? I mean look at her.” He pushed at her back as he walked behind her, though didn’t use much force. This irritated Y/N, causing her to hiss and slap his hand away. “Why are you being such a jerk? I don’t even know you and you’re trying to bother me.” Aonung didn’t bother responding. Instead he grabbed her wrist, pulling it up to show it off. “Ha look at her thin little forest arms. Probably can’t even swim can you freak.” His grip tightened as she attempted to pull away, yet he didn’t want to let go. No, he loved the pretty look on her face. The way her lashes fluttered as she attempted to blink the tears out of her eyes. The way her brows furrowed as his pestering got to her. The way her chest heaved as though she were about to try and throw a punch, or break down into tears. He would’ve been fine with both, really. All he truly wanted to see was that precious look of frustration on her face.

“Y/N?” A voice of concern chimed from behind them. Everyone turned, observing the way the approaching man flared his nostrils angrily. Neteyam, the (was) soon to be olo’eyktan. Y/N felt a sudden wave of relief wash over her, a sort of confidence returning to her as she yanked her wrist out of Aonungs grasp. Neteyam strides forward, standing between her and the group. His hand rested on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. “Are you alright?” He questioned as he studied her face, the gloss of her eyes, the twitch of her ears. A sigh aired from her nose as he turned to face Aonung. “Quit messing with my friend.” With each word his finger poked into the chest of Aonung, forcing him back a step or two each time. Y/N was used to Neteyams overprotectiveness. They grew up together, hunted fish together, took care of his siblings. He was like an older brother she could always call for help. With a delicate smile she placed her hand over his, assuring him that she was fine.

“Neteyam let’s go. I have to return to the airship before Max jerks a knot in my tail.” She joked as she tugged him along by his hand, inching him away from the group. All the whilst her eyes stole glances of her new acquaintance— or bully. Y/N wasn’t sure what to make of Aonung. He was a jerk, that was clear. As the two distanced themselves from the group of delinquents, they found themselves in a soothing silence. A silence that only those who’ve known each other for years could understand. Then Neteyam cut through it with his sharp tone. “I should’ve gotten there sooner. That Aonung guy has been a jerk to all of us, I even got into a fight with him a few days ago.” Her eyes widened at the statement.

“Did you win?” She asked, only to receive a chortle from him in response. He slapped a hand against her back jokingly, only shaking his head at her question. “Come on skxawng, you did say you wanted to visit Kiri.”

-

She slipped through the curtain of the large tent, stepping in cautiously with Neteyam trailing not too far behind. The room was dim, just as the look on her friend Kiri’s face. A small coo left Y/Ns lips as she knelt down to greet the young woman. “Oh Kiri, are you feeling okay?” She wrapped her arms around the smaller girls frame, cupping her head with her hand in order to hold her close. Kiri only sighed in response, her hand coming up to grasp at Y/Ns arm. “I understand if you don’t want to talk. I’m just glad you’re up, that’s all.” She took a seat next to Kiri, her arm circling around her in order to keep her close.

The two remained in the position, tangled together in a close hug and simply enjoying one another’s presence. Well, that was until Tuk rushed in with her usual toothy grin to drag the two out. “C’mon c’mon!” Kiri groaned, rolling her eyes as Tuk tugged her out of the tent home. Y/N followed close behind, a small smile on her face as she watched the two. Y/N always adored the way Tuk could make anyone smile. That and the way she balanced out Kiri’s sarcasm. They were perfect for each other.

Y/Ns curious eyes watched as the metkayina people dived into the waters eagerly. She wasn’t exactly sure why they were so excited until— her mouth fell open, awestruck by the sight of the large sea mammals in the distance. Their beautiful fins and colors. She suddenly understand why Tuk was so giddy to drag Kiri along with her. They clicked their tongues, a small fishy creature swimming towards them with a squeal.

“Woah! I’ve never seen anything like them. What is it?” She questioned as she knelt down behind them, watching as they both hopped onto the back of the aquatic creature. Tuk was the first to answer, giggling as she spoke. “They’re called Ilu! She’s so cute right?” Y/N nodded in response, a large smile on her face as she observed the ilus anatomy. It had pretty swirls of color across its small fins, and big black eyes. Beautiful, she thought as she watched the two swim away. “We’ll be back Y/N!-“ Kiri shouted from a distance as she waved back at the young woman. “Have fun you two!” She shouted back before standing back to her full height. All she could do was watch as the clan greeted their friends and swam through the sublime waters. Well, until Neteyam surfaced the water with his own ilu.

“What are you doing just standing there. Cmon.” He grinned as he waved for her to join him. Y/N obliged eagerly, slipping into the cool ocean and hopping onto the ilu. Her arms wrapped around Neteyams slim torso, keeping herself secure before he swam forward. Neteyam felt warm against her, his body heat contrasting the waters low temperature. She enjoyed moments like these with him, especially after the Sullys big move. She inhaled, his scent flooding her nose as she rested her head against the muscle of his back. He chuckled, the vibrations causing her to smile. “I’ll take it slow okay? I know you aren’t used to the water yet” He said as he drifted out into the sea, the ilu swimming along the surface of the water. The cool waves washed against her thighs, drenching her clothes as they neared the commotion. Perhaps commotion wasn’t the correct term. The reunion, yup that sounded right. A reunion between the metkayina and the incredible sea life.

“Teyam, what’re they called?” She inquired as one of the beautiful mammals passed by. Neteyam looked just as mesmerized as she did, perhaps even more. “Tulkun I think. Wow, they’re incredible.” He answered. The slowly the ilu came to a halt, allowing the two to observe the sight around them. The smiles on each of the peoples faces, the chirps and coos of the tulkuns. The mere sight made her heart warm. That and the feeling of Neteyams handing cupping over hers. “Let’s go under!” He exclaimed before disconnecting his queue and dragging Y/N beneath the blue water. The water flooded her ears, and while it was uncomfortable she found herself distracted by the tulkun passing overhead. It’s large shadow washed over her, the intricate designs and patterns on its belly causing her smile to grow. The sight was magical. Y/N tugged on Neteyams hand, their fingers still interlocked within the water. Drawing his attention, he beamed up at her as she pointed to the creature soaring over them. Moments like these would always last, burned into their memory for the time to come. Her best friend, Neteyam. She wouldn’t see him again for a long time once she returned home, but that was okay. She’d always remember.

They swam around a bit longer, pushing through the relaxed waters as they lingered around the floating tulkun. She swam across from Neteyam, doing her best to keep up with him. His swimming had certainly improved since the last time she saw him. He was a short ways ahead, but far enough to not notice her lagging behind. She slowed down, eventually stopping as her heart thumped in her ears. Her lungs stung uncomfortably as she came to realize she hadn’t come up for breath. With this new revelation, she began to swim to the surface with an intense urgency. Yet the water seemed as far away as before, as though she were traveling down a never ending hallway. Just as she was about to succumb to the waters commands, she felt someone tug at her arm, now dragging her up until finally they surfaced.

“Thank you..thank you so much.” She sputtered as her breathing calmed, now becoming slow and steady. Her vision cleared, no longer blurred from her suffocation. Her eyes found her rescuers, and instantly she darted from their arms. “You.” She mumbled nervously as her eyes fell anywhere but the face of the man who had been pestering her not long ago. “Me? You act as though I did not just save your life. I do expect something in return forest girl.” He bossed. Y/N didn’t respond, instead remaining silent as she eventually found his eyes. His eyes, Eywa they were burning, scorching her soul as they stared her down.

“Thank you then. That’s what I give in return.” While the words were intended to come out rude, her wavering words and shaking lips only egging him on. However, he controlled himself, instead opting to pull her closer and allowing her to float against him. “What is your name forest girl?” He asked as his arm wrapped around her waist to hoist her closer. Their bodies pressed against one another, their legs tangling together in the water. Her eyes searched his, hesitant to answer. She didn’t understand why he would save her after saying such cruel things about her. And she certainly didn’t understand why he held her so close. With a gulp, she finally answered. “Y/N..and you?” He grinned, that familiar sadistic look finding his face. “Aonung. You know, you’re cute for a freak forest girl.” He professed as his eyes observed her appearance. This insult hiding within a compliment confused Y/N, causing her mouth to fall agape as she searched for a response. Thankfully she didn’t have to come up with one, her friend Neteyam popping out of the water with a grimace. “Y/N, are you alright? I didn’t see you come up.” His brows furrowed with concern as he watched the two skeptically.

“Yes I just…needed some air.” She muttered as she pushed herself away from Aonung who only cleared his throat at the sudden awkwardness. She swam closer to Neteyam, taking his hand and tugging him away. She didn’t want to be in the situation any longer, so she used Neteyam as an escape. They swam away, creating a distance between them and the metkayina boy.

“Did he do something Y/N?” Neteyam questioned as he pulled her to a stop. Y/N couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead she frowned, finding herself uncomfortable with the topic. Neteyam could see this and brought his hand up to rest on her head. “You don’t have to tell me now, I just want to make sure you’re okay that’s all. Now let’s go, it’s getting late.” He gave a sympathetic smile before calling his ilu, and soon they were off.

-

She felt full after eating dinner with the Sullys, the taste of Neytiris cuisine lingering on her tongue. She had departed from the family tent a few moments ago, now strolling along the shore of the midnight beach. It was eclipse, the sun no longer out and one of the moons replacing it. The stars were bright and flickering, weaving together to create beautiful constellations. The stars were always her favorite. Something she could enjoy alone without any bothersome scientists or siblings. She found a good spot on a mossy rock, taking a seat on its cool surface with a sigh. Her hands rested on the rock as she leaned back, allowing herself to relax for the first time that day.

The day had been eventful to say the least. She’d been harassed by some stupid boys, got to see new animals and people, and almost drowned. She winced at the last thought, cringing at the idea of her drowning the day she visits the Sullys. That and the fact that she’d been bullied by those boys, one in particular. Aonung, the stupid bastard. She didn’t like him, not one bit. She didn’t like the pretty jewels he wore, or his soft curls. She didn’t like his smug smirk, or rough hands. She didn’t like it at all. His annoying voice, his soothing accent.

“This is my spot.” She jolted, a gasp leaving her as her hand slapped against her chest. “Oh my fuck— you can’t just- oh, it’s you.” Her arms pulled her legs against her chest, wrapping around her calves as she glared at the water. “Go somewhere else forest girl, this is my spot.” He approached, now taking up her space. He stood over her, his intense presence beginning to make her feel uneasy. “You can’t claim a rock Aonung.” She snapped back. For once she legitimately had something to say, and Aonung took notice of this. His hand found her jaw, tilting her head to force her to look at him. “So, you aren’t a complete mess forest freak.” He slouched over, his face in the proximity of hers. His breath fanned over her face, warming her skin and causing her cheeks to flush. She gulped, just as before she found herself struggling to find a response to his patronizing. “Cmon freak, speak up. Or maybe you can’t understand me because you’re not a true na’vi.”

She whimpered at his words, shaking her head from his jaw and shifting to slip off of the rock. Aonung however wasn’t finished. His hand pulled her back by her neck, his calloused fingers circling around her throat to keep her still. This caused her to whine, her hands grasping at his wrist as she glared up at him. “That look in your eyes is so cute forest girl. Aw, about to cry?” He taunted as she blinked tears back, her lashes fluttering to contain them. “Shut up..” Her whiny tone caused him to chuckle, his hand coming up to rest on her cheek as he watched her closely. Slowly his finger found her bottom lip, caressing it gently as he gazed into her eyes. And then suddenly she found his thumb intruding her mouth, pressing against her tongue as his gaze suddenly turned dark. “Suck.” He demanded, the words causing her brows to raise in surprise. Though the surprise wasn’t from his words, but in fact from her eagerness to oblige. She found herself sucking at his finger, her gaze never faltering from his as she witnessed him suck in a breath.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you? So eager to satisfy. Or maybe you like when I treat you like the freak you are.” He gushed as his hand left her neck, now wandering her form. His hands squeezed and fondled at her curves, taking in her perfect body. It wasn’t like she was the first woman he’s had sexual relations with. She was just so damn fun to degrade. To tease her until she broke, until she was crying his name. He huffed out at the thought, his hand now resting on her ass. He hated the clothes she wore, sure they hugged her body just right, but they also kept him from what he wanted most. Grunting he pulled her against him, their bodies meshing together as his now growing length rutted against her. This drew a whimper from Y/N, causing her to halt her actions with her mouth. “I didn’t tell you that you could stop, did I? Can never put that mouth to good use can you?” He spit out as his thumb left her mouth, a string of spit connecting the two. “Well aren’t you so good for me. Hm? Fine, you want to take my spot? Then you’ll listen well.” He said as he shoved her against the rock she once sat on, and pushed her legs apart. His thigh rested against her cunt, the muscle pressing against her teasingly. This caused her to let out a shaky breath, her hands now grasping at both his biceps as he leaned over her. He stared down at her, watching as she jutted her hips into his thigh in desperation. “Fuck, you really are desperate aren’t you? Cmere forest girl.” His large hands found her hips, using them to rock her against his thigh. “I’m not going to stop until you’re moaning my name, got it forest girl? So get to work.”

And get to work she did. She rocked her hips at the perfect angle, her clit grinding against his thigh with each roll of her body. Her hands now rested on his back, scratching and grasping at his skin as she attempted to keep up with the pleasure she felt. Being a virgin, this was a new experience for her. Feeling his muscular thigh against her cunt, pressing against her in just the right way. His hot breath on her neck as he planted kisses and hickeys along the length of it. His grip on her hips grew tighter, more forceful as he himself grew more aroused. “Taking too long pretty girl, I need you to cum now.” He urged as he began to bounce his leg, further stimulating her senses. She mewled out, her core tightening as she grew closer to her high. “M’trying nung. It’s so good..so close.” She moaned at as her head fell back. Aonung used this to his advantage, his teeth now piercing her skin and sending that jolt of pleasure she needed to reach her high through her. Her legs tensed, her nails digging into his back as the throb of her clit caused her to moan out. “Aonung..!” She cried as her orgasm ripped through her. Her body felt hot against his, the friction causing her to pant unevenly. “Too good..too good.” She blubbered as she finally began to come down.

Aonung had witnessed her high, leaning back to take in the way her eyes squeezed shot. The way her nails dug into his back and urged him on. The way her thighs tensed around his own, the warmth of her cunt causing his cock to strain within his loincloth. Eywa, this woman had him losing his composure. His hands left her hips, now pushing her away as he groaned irritably. “Fuck, you’re so annoying.” He cursed out. This clearly was a shock to her considering he was the one who told her to cum on his thigh, not the other way around. She looked at him, baffled by his sudden switch in demeanor. “What— you were the one who sai—“

“I know what I said forest freak. Just— fuck. Can’t wait until you leave.” He seethed, his jaw clenching as if he were fighting himself. His eyes fell back onto her, searching hers before his lips suddenly found hers, biting and licking at her lips until they were swollen. And just as quickly as he pulled her into a heated make out session, he pulled away. “Don’t go bragging about this Y/N. It was an accident, that’s all.” He said before finally he left, disappearing into the island before she could get in another word. He just left her there, cold and drenched in her own juices. God she was gullible. She cursed under her breath as she gathered herself. She really, really hated Aonung.

[guavi]

I made Aziraphale’s waistcoat about two months ago and boy it was a journey

Rant about the process under cut!

First thing to do was pick a fabric. For the visible fabric on the front and collar, I knew I definitely wanted to use something piled. I also did not want to use a synthetic fabric, which would have been cheaper but miserable to wear. I settled on cotton velveteen which would be more comfortable, slightly cheaper and easier to work with than silk velvet, and generally less shiny than silk. I was able to order some beautiful cotton velveteen from someone local.

Unfortunately it was not even in the same ballpark as the color I needed. This was due to a combination of reasons including the lighting in the photos they had (they were online only and didn’t have a storefront I could walk into), piled fabric in general being nigh impossible to accurately photograph the color of, and probably also some variations between dye batches. This is why we buy swatches when we can, folks.

The fabric itself was absolutely lovely though. So. No biggie I’ll just dye this myself what could go wrong

The dark brown here is after the first dye; the scrap laying on top on the right is the original color; the beige coat underneath for color reference. Note that even the colors in this picture looked quite different from irl. I did dip a scrap in first to check the color, but because Dyeing Is Weird and also I made some mistakes the final dye did not end up the same. I can write several more paragraphs on why this probably happened. We’d be here for a while.

But maybe it’ll be fine right? The color’s not exact but not offensive, maybe I’ll just start sewing and it won’t bother me that much.

Here’s a bit of that process, where you can see the interior of the waistcoat with interlining and twill tape, following some 19th century construction techniques. Lots of tedious but relaxing hand sewing. (Also, real pockets!)

I chose broadcloth for the interlining rather than a more typical canvas, because I wanted a more soft and aged look rather than crisp and new.

(I made another mistake here using cotton twill tape straight off the roll, which shrunk later in the process. You can see this later in how the edges pucker a bit. Oops. Oh well.)

(I also have no other photos of this stage because I went into the hyperfocus zone and forgot about everything except the task in front of me)

Turns out I was not ok with the color. It bothered me a lot.

So I tried to bleach it a tad to lighten the color, but Bleaching Is Also Weird and doesn’t always give you back the same color but lighter.

I got back something extremely orange tones, which bothered me even more. Had a minor breakdown until reboot papped me and helped me talk through how to fix this.

This ended up going through another round of light bleaching, and two rounds of dyeing over with blue to cancel out the orange. Finally I got something I was happy with!

You can very clearly see the puckering here caused by the shrinking tape..thankfully a good steaming was able to get rid of the worst of it.

The color is also slightly uneven if you look very closely, because rounds of the dyeing/bleaching happened after it was sewn together rather than as fabric pieces. Oh well. I can chalk this up to an “aged” look.

Time to finish it off with some buttons and 19th century style hand-worked buttonholes! The buttons aren’t accurate but I just went for ones that were the right size and vibes.

Last step was to add the wear around the buttons, hem, and collar. I’m sure there’s some faster way to do this, but I did it with a pair of eyebrow tweezers to pluck out the pile and a bit of sandpaper to finish off.

And that’s it! For the waistcoat at least. I also made the outer coat, the bow tie, and the blue shirt because I couldn’t find one for purchase that fit me. I still need to make other things. But that’s for another time.