#most people like to post about. so i just go look elsewhere

[judesmoonbeauty]

𝕁𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕁𝕒𝕫𝕫𝕒'𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪: ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

— Would people say it’s foolish to chase a promise that won’t come true?

Poorly Dressed Man: Jude Jazza! It’s all - it’s all your fault!

Jude: I ain’t the one who broke the contract.

Jude: If ya wanna file a lawsuit yer sure to lose, ‘n starve to death, then be my guest.

Poorly Dressed Man: You demon! Die!

Jude: Ellis.

Ellis: Yep.

Poorly Dressed Man: Gah!

— Would people call following a twisted sense of justice evil?

Jude: …Ha. The full moon’s annoyin’.

The person with amethyst eyes listlessly lit a cigarette.

The white smoke that rose in the pitch black darkness turned the glittering moon grey.

Ellis: Jude, it’s done.

Jude: Fine. Then let’s get outta here ‘fore things get messy.

A week has passed since I’ve become fairytale keeper.

Guests from Germany called Vogel have arrived, and I’ve been accompanying the others on dangerous missions,

In these hectic days, there are many things that bother me.

However, the thing that bothers me the most is —

Kate: Jude, please take me with you on the mission today!

Jude: Ha. Make an appointment. Business hours are over, so scram.

He looked very unhappy while he glared at me disdainfully.

(But…I can’t back down here.)

Kate: For the past week, I’ve accompanied everyone on missions as fairytale keeper.

Kate: Only you and Ellis are the ones left.

Jude: Don’t care ‘bout yer problems.

Kate: Ughh….

Ellis: Is it okay if I go with Kate?

Ellis kindly soothed my heart that was gouged out by Jude.

However -

Jude: Y'shuddup.

(Haaa, it’s hopeless. What should I do….)

(If I can’t do it by asking directly, then I can follow them without permission, or ask for help…)

The moment I was lost in thought —

Victor: Today, I see Jude is walking about as the human form of cruelty and ruthlessness as well.

The “help” I wished for arrived with beautiful long hair, and in a cheerful mood.

Victor: Don’t be so cold, and take care of Kate.

Victor: The fairytale keeper is an honorable position that Her Majesty recognizes.

Jude: I don’t understand what yer sayin’, ‘n I don’t like it.

Jude: What’s that woman thinkin’, lettin’ ya abuse her power ‘n capture a commoner.

(…..Commoner.)

Jude: Tch….revoltin’.

Jude: Let’s go, Ellis.

Ellis: Sorry, Kate. See you later.

Kate: Yeah….

I gave a small wave to Ellis who looked back with concern as he left.

(I’ve had quite a few bad experiences in my life.)

But this was the first time I’ve been met with such intense hatred for no reason.

To be honest…it’s not a good feeling.

He’s really a “jerk” with a rotten attitude —that was my first impression of him.

But I soon realized as I lived at Crown Castle, that he was like that with everyone.

[Shows different scenes of Jude's attitude.]

Jude: All Crown members on a urgent mission ordered by that Queenie?

Jude: Don’t need my help. Do whatever ya want.

Jude: Get together with Vogel? Ain’t nothin’ in it for me.

Jude: I ain’t goin’ to that thing.

Jude: Fairytale keeper? Thought ya scampered back home already. Dunno though.

[Examples scenes end]

Kate: Jude Jazza’s report…..

Victor: You’ve brought the weekly report, thank you.

Victor: Jude Jazza. He is very arrogant, ruthless, and intolerable……

Just as he was speaking, I snatched the report back from him.

Kate: There’s no way I can present a report full of insults to her Majesty!

…A few days later.

Harrison: Yeah, I got it from Victor.

In the note Harrison gave me —

The Pub near St. James’s Park, 10:00 p.m.

(This is!)

Harrison: Tonight Jude and Ellis are on a mission to bust a gang selling illegal drugs.

Apparently Victor couldn’t just watch things silently, and arranged for me to join the two on their mission.

Kate: Thanks for the note, Harrison.

(The pub, tonight at 10…that means)

When I looked at the clock, there was only an hour left.

Kate: I’ve got to hurry! I’m off.

Harrison: Ah, oi…..Roger’ll go with you, so meet up with him!

Harrison: ….I don’t think that guy’s going to be easy to deal with.

Just before I ran out of the room, I heard Harrison’s murmuring….Perhaps, he was predicting what would happen tonight.

When I arrived at the location precisely on time — the entire mission had been completed.

(Maybe….no, not maybe)

Roger: Hahaha, Jude took you for a ride didn’t lil’ lady?

Kate: ……

His cheerful and merciless voice, unlike Jude’s pierced my heart.

Ellis: Oh, Kate. And Roger too.

(Since Ellis returned to the pub, does that mean Jude’s returned too?)

I leaned forward a bit to see if Jude was there.

(Hm…he’s not here?)

Kate: Ellis, where’s Jude?

Ellis: Smoking probably.

I went to the back of the pub, and found Jude sitting on the stairs smoking.

Kate: …You lied and gave the wrong time.

Jude: Can ya stop makin’ false accusations?

Kate: False accusations?

Jude: Didn’t say it would “start” at 10:00 p.m. It’s yer fault for not confirmin’ ‘forehand.

[All options are +4/+4] - “Option 1: It was my mistake.”

Kate: That’s….definitely my mistake for not confirming.

I was the who assumed the time written on the note was the start time.

Jude: Hmm, so ya got ‘nough brains to honestly fess up when yer wrong. That’s great.

(What Jude is saying is probably right….But..)

Kate: Why would you intentionally do something that would make someone hate you?

Jude: Is there somethin’ to gain by bein’ liked by ya?

White smoke flows from his cruel smile.

Kate: So it’s okay to be hated by others so long as there’s no benefit for you?

Jude: Are ya a fool who wants to be liked by everyone?

Kate: But, there’s nothing wrong with being like, is there?

Jude: Sickenin’. I hate it when people say - “Let’s all be friendly.”

(No matter what I say, it’s a deadlock….)

I’ve tried to meet him halfway so many times.

But each time he’s treated me coldly, and it’s made me really angry.

— That’s why I said this.

Kate: If that’s what you say, then I’ll make you understand.

Words you should absolutely never say to him….

Jude: ….Hah?

White smoke swirls up from his cranky lips like a coiling serpent.

Jude: Whaddya gonna make me understand?

When I heard his rough voice from his thin lips, I realized that I touched a nerve.

But I can’t take back what I’ve said — So, I should just say what I feel.

I glared at Jude on the other side of the white smoke, trying not to be overwhelmed by his powerful gaze.

Kate: By the time I finish being the fairytale keeper, I will find something to like about you.

Jude: Hah?

Kate: I can’t find anything at the moment….but I don’t think it’s bad to be liked regardless if there’s gain or not.

Jude: ………..

Kate: I promise you.

When I nodded, Jude’s lips twisted into an exasperated smile.

Jude: ….Idiot. Are ya insane?

Jude: If ya find somethin’ like that, I’ll listen to any one thing ya say.

(Those words just now…! Can I take them as an agreement?)

Kate: Deal, I’m looking forward to it!

Kate: Oh, and I don’t intend to leave your side until I’ve fulfilled my promise, no matter how many times you push me away.

Jude: Ha. Fine, if ya say so, then do as ya please.

After a long battle, I finally got him to say those words.

Kate: Yep, I’ll do as I please!

I fanned away the cigarette smoke that separated us, and took a step closer to him….

Jude scoffs while letting out a thick puff of smoke.

Jude: Just remember one thing princess….My “promises” don’t come cheap.

Jude: If ya break yer promise, I’ll show ya a hell that’ll make ya think ya were better off dead.

Amidst the elegant scent of sandalwood, which was far from his image, and the sweet, burning scent of tobacco —

Jude and I made our first promise.

[Transitions to the Palace]

Darius: Jude Jazza, huh. - Hm, Nica.

“Vogel” - an organization under the direct command of the German Emperor.

It’s Director, Darius Vogel, smiled gracefully.

Nica: You want me to look into him, right. That’s fine, I’m personally interested in him.

Nica: …So I hope I can gather some interesting information on him.

The following day I was called to Victor’s office.

Victor: Jude, Ellis, and Kate, thank you for your hard work last night.

Victor: Now then, Kate I’ve heard that you’re going to be Jude’s exclusive fairytale keeper going forward?

(Huh?)

Jude: Why’a lookin’ confused, yer the one who suggested it.

(That’s….)

[Flash back begins]

Kate: By the time I finish being the fairytale keeper, I will find something to like about you.

Jude: If ya find somethin’ like that, then I’ll listen to any one thing ya say.

[Flash back ends]

(Maybe that’s it?)

Jude: A one-sided termination of the contract’s invalid. Don’t go back on yer word, people-pleaser.

Kate: I wouldn’t go back on my word, even if you didn’t tell me to.

Victor: Jude truly is an arrogant, insincere, and narrow-minded man, but he never breaks his promises.

Victor: Hence, he demands the same of others, or else they’re met with fierce retaliation.

As Victor’s cheerful voice rang out, Jude and I stopped glaring at each other.

Kate: That means….

Victor: Now that this has happened, there’s no escape for you, is there?

Jude Jazza, his curse is the 13th fairy from Sleeping Beauty.

Twelve fairies were called to the castle for a banquet of the the newborn princess.

Each of the fairies blessed the lovely princess….

— However, the 13th fairy was not invited to the castle, and it cast a curse on the princess out of resentment.

(I’m sure that’s how the tale goes…)

Kate: ….Is this person vindictive because of his curse, or simply because of his mean personality?

Victor: Hmm, that’s a mystery buried deep beneath the sea —

Jude: Don’t care if it’s some curse or not.

Ellis: Will you sign it? Or…

Jude: Signin’ with yer blood’s fine.

As if to prove his rotten personality, Jude smiled sarcastically….

Kate: I’ll sign anything!

I reflexively responded to his provocation, and ran the pen across the paper.

Within seconds of signing, Jude tucked it in his breast pocket.

Jude: Thanks. Let’s be friends from now on, eh princess?

A cruel person who delights in the misfortunes of others.

(There’s no way I’ll ever fall in love with someone like that.)

(But, if I don’t fulfill my promise, then I’m in breach of the contract….)

— I’ll end up as his prey.

[Main Story Master List] Dividers: @.natimiles Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka

If you wish to be added or removed from my translations tag list, please let me know!

[morganthepen]

so i haven’t been around much to post about the US election results but i’ve processed enough and i’m here now.

to those of you that were surprised or shocked, i was too a little. but looking back on it, Harris did the best she could with what she had, and this isn’t her fault.

Donald Trump won this election because the majority of Americans simply don’t give two fucks about people like us. They care that they can buy eggs and gas without living check to check, and while that’s a valid concern, what they fail to understand is that not only is Trump NOT going to fix the inflation problem, he is going to strip the rights away from anyone who isn’t a cis straight white male or their brainwashed girlfriends/wives. If you voted for Donald Trump in this election, you have chosen a minuscule amount of monetary gain over the lives of hundreds of thousands of people that will be lost during this administration. It’s as simple as that.

Which is why we have to show them that we’re not going anywhere.

Bug the hell out of your representatives when a Republican congress tries to pass legislation that dehumanizes women and trans kids.

Organize. Go to protests in your city or on your campus (or elsewhere) to take a stand for your rights or the rights of those you love.

Look out for the safety of yourself, your family, and your friends. Be anonymous online or just go offline.

And most importantly, fight and don’t give up that fight. We’re not going back.

“Never forget that everything Hitler did in Germany was legal.”

[cherubytes]

does the guy complaining about the amount of gay ultrakill fanart they see know they're on the gay fanart website???? "i cant scroll through the tag without seeing 30 fanarts of gabriel in a skirt" my brother in christ that man isnt wearing pants

[restinpeacesensei]

traditional style 💖

[pucksandpower]

Prince of Monaco

Charles Leclerc x Princess of Monaco

Summary: what better way for the honorary Prince of Monaco to celebrate finally winning his home race than with the Princess of Monaco?

Warnings: 18+ content

The roar of the crowd is deafening as Charles brings his Ferrari across the finish line, finally winning his home race after years of heartbreak. His mechanics swarm the barriers, nearly delirious with excitement, but Charles just leans back in his seat, letting the accomplishment sink in.

He’s done it. He’s conquered the streets that have taunted him for so long.

As he’s ushered up to the iconic podium, Charles looks out at the sea of fans cheering his name and spots you, radiant in a summery yellow dress, beaming up at him.

For a moment, time seems to stop as your eyes meet. You give him a little wave and he nearly stumbles on his way to the top step, feeling lightheaded.

When you step forward with the winner’s trophy, Charles’ heart starts pounding. Your fingers brush against his ever so slightly as you hand it over and he swears he can feel an electric current pass between you. The sleek lines of the trophy blur before his eyes as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Félicitations, Charles,” you say warmly, resting a hand on his arm.

Charles blinks rapidly as his cheeks start to burn. Up close, you look like an honest-to-god angel descended to earth. How does one even speak to heavenly beings?

“Th-thanks,” he stammers out, mentally kicking himself for sounding like such an idiot. He needs to get it together. “I mean, merci, Your Serene Highness.”

You laugh, the warm sound instantly putting him at ease. “Please, just call me Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats dumbly. It’s easily the most beautiful combination of letters he’s ever heard.

“You should celebrate your big win tonight,” you say, a playful glint in your eyes. “But maybe don’t get too carried away with the champagne.”

Charles frowns in confusion. Is that a royal decree to take it easy on the partying?

“I was hoping you could pick me up tomorrow evening,” you continue blithely. “For our date.”

Our … date? Charles’ eyes go wide as his jaw drops open. Is the most beautiful woman in the world really asking him out right now? In front of millions of people?

“Uh, I … we … huh?” He sputters inelegantly.

You just smile that radiant smile and lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “We do now,” you murmur against his skin, sending tingles down his spine. “I’ll see you at eight?”

Before Charles can formulate any kind of response, you give him one last brilliant grin and turn to congratulate Oscar Piastri on second place. He blinks down at the trophy in his hands, wondering if he’s dreaming all of this.

The rest of the podium celebration passes by in a blur. He holds up his trophy and waves to the crowd like he’s supposed to, but his mind is elsewhere, utterly consumed by the feeling of your lips on his skin and the knowledge that he has an actual date with the woman of his dreams.

As soon as the ceremonies conclude, his team is all over him, shouting congratulations and patting his back enthusiastically. Normally he’d be caught up in the revelry, basking in his victory, but now all Charles wants is to get out of there. He needs to chug about a gallon of water and take a very cold shower.

“Party tonight, eh mate?” Carlos calls out with a playful elbow to the ribs. “Got any special plans to celebrate?”

Charles feels the blush creeping back up his cheeks as he thinks about you — your warm laughter, your gentle touch, the promises of a date in your sparkling eyes. His lips tug up in a helpless smile.

“You could say that,” he murmurs, already counting down the hours until he gets to see you again.

The post-race celebrations kick into high gear, with champagne flowing freely and music thumping from every corner. Charles goes through the motions, reveling in his hard-won triumph but unable to fully let loose and enjoy himself. Not when a much bigger prize is waiting for him tomorrow night.

The hours drag by interminably as he waits for an acceptable time to make his excuses and leave the party behind. His friends rib him relentlessly for his uncharacteristic restraint.

“What’s got you so distracted, Calamar?” Pierre teases. “This isn’t like you at all!”

“Yeah, our boy’s got his eyes on something else tonight! Or would it be more accurate to say someone else?” Joris chimes in with an exaggerated wink.

Charles flushes but doesn’t deny it, fighting back a smile. If only they knew ...

It’s nearly 2 am by the time he extricates himself from the club, pleading an early morning commitment. No one believes his excuse for a second, but they let him go with plenty of cheers and well-meaning shoves.

As soon as Charles makes it back to his apartment, he starts feverishly getting ready for tomorrow, picking out the perfect outfit and incessantly checking the time. After tossing and turning fruitlessly for a couple of hours, he finally gives up on sleep, instead spending his morning going for a long run to burn off excess energy.

The day drags on at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every minute feels like an hour as he wills the clocks to move faster. He triple checks the address, runs through conversation starters in his head, and showers for the third time. This date has to go perfectly.

At 7:55 pm, Charles pulls up outside the royal palace, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he tries to control his nerves. He takes one last steadying breath before getting out of the car and smoothing down his shirt.

Like an angel from on high, you suddenly appear in the palace doorway, looking impossibly radiant in a gauzy pink sundress that matches your warm smile perfectly.

“Y/N,” Charles breathes out reverently, drinking in your beauty. Up close, his heart is pounding so loudly he’s sure you must be able to hear it. “You look … wow.”

Your smile grows even brighter as you move towards him. “Well, you clean up pretty nicely yourself.”

There’s a brief, charged silence as you stand face to face, just drinking each other in. Then, seeming to make up your mind about something, you grab his hand and tug him close.

“Come on,” you murmur, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’ve got the perfect date night planned for us.”

With your hand in his, Charles would follow you straight into the depths of hell itself. He manages an eager nod, unable to tear his eyes away from your face.

Whatever you have planned, he knows it will be perfect. So long as he gets to spend the evening by your side, he couldn’t care less what you do.

You lace your fingers through his, shooting him one last brilliant smile, and lead the way to what is undoubtedly going to be the best night of Charles’s life.

***

Warm rays of morning sunlight filter through the sheer curtains, gently rousing Charles from the most blissful sleep of his life. He blinks slowly, taking in the lavish bedchamber with its soaring ceilings and intricate moldings. Plush rugs cover the marble floors and the bed he’s cocooned in is easily the most luxurious he’s ever experienced, with soft Egyptian cotton sheets caressing his skin.

For a delirious moment, Charles thinks he might still be dreaming. But then his eyes drift to you, sleeping peacefully beside him, and his heart stutters in his chest. It all comes rushing back in a torrent of sense memories — your radiant smile, your tinkling laugh, the feeling of your hand in his as you led him out on the most magical night of his life.

The two of you stroll hand-in-hand through the winding alleyways of Monaco, ducking down tiny side streets to places only locals know. Charles is enchanted as you show him hidden corners of your city that he’s never seen before, sharing fascinating stories and anecdotes all the while.

“This little trattoria has been run by the same family for nearly a century,” you explain as you lead him into a tiny, unassuming restaurant positively dripping with old world charm. The smiling owner greets you like a beloved daughter, embracing you warmly.

Over a seemingly endless parade of rustic Italian delicacies and a hearty red wine, you and Charles talk for hours about everything and nothing - childhoods and ambitions, favorite books and movies, embarrassing stories that have you both crying with laughter.

When the owner sends over a giant slice of homemade tiramisu with a wink, you steal the first bite right off Charles’ fork with a cheeky grin. A bit of mascarpone clings to the corner of your mouth and without thinking, Charles leans in to kiss it away, savoring the sweet taste of you mingled with the rich dessert.

You make a soft noise of surprise against his lips before melting into the kiss, cupping his face tenderly. When you finally part, both a little breathless, there’s a new burning heat in your eyes that makes Charles’ heart skip a beat.

“Shall we go for a walk?” You murmur, already sliding out of the booth. Your hand finds his and you lace your fingers together as you lead him back out into the night ...

Just thinking about last night’s date makes Charles’ heart feel fit to burst. You had taken him on a romantic tour of Monaco unlike anything he’s ever experienced, showing him secret nooks and hidden gems even he didn’t know. He had been so entranced just drinking in the city through your eyes, hanging on your every word.

But those heated looks you started sending his way after that first electrifying kiss had made it clear the real night was only just beginning ...

You stroll along the moon-dappled harbor, pointing out your favorite super-yachts and regaling Charles with scandalous stories of the jetset lives of their owners. He laughs delightedly at your wicked sense of humor, tucking you against his side as you wander the lamp-lit cobblestone streets.

When you lead him up a winding path to an old stone overlook, his breath catches in his throat. Twinkling lights from the city and harbor spread out as far as the eye can see, the tiny pinpricks glittering like a million stars. You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you nuzzle against his back.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You murmur reverently. “This is my favorite view in all of Monaco.”

Charles turns in your embrace until you’re pressed flush together, hardly daring to breathe. “It is,” he rasps out, getting lost in the depths of your eyes. “But not as beautiful as you.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking down to his lips for a heated moment, before surging up on your tiptoes to capture his mouth in a searing kiss ...

Unbidden, a low groan slips from Charles’ throat as he remembers those heated kisses on the overlook, one thing inexorably leading to another in a heady rush of lust and longing until you were both feverishly tugging at clothes. He swallows hard, feeling himself start to stir beneath the sheets.

That was just the start of the longest, most incredible night of Charles’ life. Your romantic tour had eventually led you both back to the palace, where you scattered a trail of discarded garments across marble floors and lavish furnishings in your wake, completely consumed by your desire for one another.

You press Charles back against the door of your bedroom as soon as you stagger inside, hands roaming hungrily as you devour his mouth in a bruising kiss. Charles groans deeply, fingers tangling in your hair as he spins you both around to walk you back towards the bed ...

A warm weight suddenly drapes itself across Charles’ torso, jolting him from his reverie with a sharp intake of breath. You’re curled against his side, smiling at him with eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep. His heart kicks up a furious gallop as you scoot closer, trailing a path of featherlight kisses along his chest and shoulder.

“Good morning,” you murmur, voice still scratchy and deliciously rumpled sounding. Charles nearly swallows his tongue at the sound — not to mention the fact that he can now feel every luscious curve of your body pressed against his beneath the sheets.

“Morning,” he croaks out, throat gone instantly dry. How is it possible that you look even more beautiful than he remembers?

You laugh softly at his dazed expression as you work your way up the column of his neck, seemingly intent on covering every last inch of bare skin with those incredibly soft lips. “Sleep well?”

Charles manages a strangled noise of agreement just before you capture his mouth in a slow, smoldering kiss. He groans against your lips, looping an arm around your waist to pull you more fully on top of him. Every nerve-ending feels like it’s engulfed in flames.

When you finally break apart, you brace yourself up on your elbows, gazing down at him with bright, sparkling eyes. “Last night was incredible,” you say candidly, tracing the line of his cheekbone with a fingertip. “Thank you for such an amazing first date.”

A low rumble of laughter escapes Charles as he grins up at you, dizzy with happiness. “I should be thanking you. Last night was … just, wow.” He reaches up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear, marveling at how impossibly soft your skin is. “Have I mentioned yet how breathtakingly gorgeous you are?”

Your cheeks flush prettily even as you let out an adorably bashful little giggle that has Charles bewitched. “Charles Leclerc, you beautiful charmer,” you tease, dropping your head to nuzzle against the crook of his neck. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Mmm, I have a few ideas ...” Charles murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. He trails his fingertips up the delicate lines of your spine, reveling in the way it makes you shiver against him.

You lift your head again, pinning him with a look of pure want that steals the breath from Charles’ lungs. “Is that so?” You purr, rolling your hips ever so slightly against his in a way that has him biting back a groan.

“Oui,” he husks out, slipping a hand into your tousled hair to draw your mouth back to his. You melt against him instantly, the kiss rapidly becoming heated and desperate as you both come quickly undone.

With you pressed so tantalizingly close, Charles can feel the heat slowly building between you as he maps every inch of your body with eager hands. Your skin is so silky soft, he can scarcely believe you’re real. Last night’s passion comes roaring back in a tidal wave of desire so potent it nearly overwhelms him.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, clinging to him like a lifeline as you finally join your bodies in a fevered rush. Charles surges up to capture your lips again, unable to get enough of your addictive taste as you move together in perfect synchronicity. Slick skin sliding, breaths mingling, every sensation is heightened and electrified as you make love with an abandon unlike anything Charles has ever experienced ...

A strangled groan tears from Charles’ chest at the memory, his grip reflexively tightening on your hips and pulling you harder against him.

You let out a soft whimper against his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as you grind deliciously against him in response. Charles feels utterly intoxicated by you — your taste, your scent, the exquisite softness of your skin pressed so enticingly to his.

With one fluid motion, he rolls you both until he’s caging you beneath him on the luxurious sheets. You gaze up at him with eyes gone molten and dark, chests heaving in tandem. The ferocious want simmering between you is nearly tangible.

“You’re so beautiful,” Charles rasps out in reverence, brushing the backs of his fingers along the elegant curve of your jaw. He leans down to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, feeling your rapid pulse fluttering beneath his lips. “Perfect ...”

A soft keen escapes you as you tilt your head back to allow him better access. Every nerve in Charles’ body feels electrified, like his skin is humming with unreleased energy. He’s drunk on you, body and soul.

As his lips blaze a path lower, nuzzling between the delicious swell of your breasts, your back arches sharply up off the bed with a gasp of longing. Your fingers clutch almost painfully at his shoulders as you struggle to pull him even closer.

“Charles … please,” you whimper, voice pitched low and heady with naked yearning.

He slides a hand up your silken thigh in answer, molding his palm to the flare of your hip as you shift restlessly beneath him. You’re warm and pliant and bewitching like this, coming slowly undone under his attentions.

With a ragged groan, Charles surrenders to the inescapable gravitational pull between you, fusing your mouths back together in a searing kiss that instantly turns all-consuming ...

Your nails score lines of delicious fire down his back as he drives into you with deep, powerful strokes, hips snapping together in a primal rhythm. It’s all heat and friction and tangled limbs, the world narrowing down to nothing but the places where your bodies join so intimately.

You keen out his name like a prayer, the sound sending hot shockwaves of lust ricocheting through Charles’s core. Every nerve feels simultaneously set alight and yet thrumming with a paradoxical electric chill, sensations somehow magnified tenfold.

He’ll never get enough of this feeling — of being completely consumed by you, your passion, your overwhelming desire for each other burning so bright that everything else fades away into glorious insignificance ...

A guttural groan is torn from deep in Charles’ throat as your hips roll sensuously against his in wanton invitation. His head drops into the tempting curve of your neck, lips tracing maddeningly along your overheated skin as he struggles to maintain the barest thread of control.

“Y/N,” he rumbles out, your name laced with pure, undisguised reverence. “Mon ange ...”

You cup his face in your hands, forcing his heated gaze back to yours. For a crystalline moment, everything hangs in breathless suspension before you surge up to claim his mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss.

Like a switch being flipped, the tenuous grip Charles had on his restraint abruptly snaps. A low groan tears from his very soul as he lets the irresistible tide finally pull him under, lost in the relentless thrall of your passion.

Your urgent cries spike higher as Charles’ hips drive forward in a smooth, powerful glide, joining your bodies with exquisite friction. You clutch at him wildly, nails raking lines of delicious fire across his back as the room narrows to nothing but scorching skin and thunderous heartbeats.

At last, the spiraling tension reaches a blinding crescendo, your release crashing over you in shattering waves of pure ecstasy. Charles’ own climax follows swiftly, torn from his very depths with a hoarse shout of your name.

He collapses bonelessly on top of you, lungs heaving like he’s just run a marathon as you both simply cling to each other through the sizzling aftershocks. Sparks still seem to crackle across his nerve endings from your earth-shattering joining.

After an endless stretch of languid moments, Charles finally gathers enough strength to ease himself to the side, gathering you in against his chest. You come willingly, draping yourself over him as he nuzzles into the top of your head and just breathes you in.

“Wow ...” you murmur at last when you’ve recovered enough to speak. A breathless giggle escapes as you press a soft kiss to the hollow of his throat. “And I thought last night was incredible.”

Charles rumbles out a deep chuckle, pressing his smile against your hair as his arms tighten reflexively around you. “Last night was just the warm up, mon cœur,” he husks out, voice still gloriously ragged from your shared passion.

You pull back just enough to gaze at him through heavy-lidded eyes, cheeks delightfully flushed and hair wildly tousled in a way that has Charles’ heart clenching near to bursting. Brushing a knuckle along his jaw, you give him a look rich with teasing promise.

“Well then ... if this is what I give you for winning Monaco,” you trail off meaningfully, letting the words hang suspended as your fingertips trail down the ridges of his abdomen. “I can’t even imagine what you’ll earn when you win the World Championship.”

The low, sultry purr of your tone sends delicious little licks of heat swirling through Charles’ veins despite his delightfully sated state. A wicked grin tugs at his lips as pulls you more fully on top of him again, glorying in your lush curves molded so perfectly against his own.

“Is that a challenge, Princesse?” He rumbles out, dipping his head to nibble along the elegant column of your throat. You let out the most deliciously breathy giggle that has his blood absolutely simmering.

“Mmm, maybe,” you hum out coyly, deft fingers trailing through the short hair at his nape in a way that makes his toes curl. “Although I suppose you’ll just have to win it and find out for yourself ...”

Charles feels a possessive growl rising up from deep within his chest as he abruptly flips you both, pinning your breathless laughter beneath him on the luxurious sheets. Gazing down at you with unbridled adoration blazing in his eyes, he steals another scorching kiss that leaves you both gasping for air.

“Oh, I fully intend to,” he vows fervently, reveling in the way your eyes have gone molten and dark with renewed desire. His hands map every inch of your body with fervent devotion as he leans down to murmur hotly against the shell of your ear.

“And when I do, Princesse … I’m never letting you go.”

[the-rad1o-demon]

[Image ID (sorta, basically just the text from it):

GET KOSA TRENDING.

STOP SCROLLING NOW!

AS OF FEBRUARY 21ST, 2024, WE GOT FIVE DAYS UNTIL THE DAY OF DECISION OF THE KOSA BILL, WHICH WILL CAUSE MASS CENSORSHIP ROUND THE INTERNET IF PASSED. OR DOOMSDAY. WE NEED EVERYONE TO KNOW ABOUT THIS AND CONTRIBUTE. I'M NOT GIVING UP ON YOU ALL.

WE'RE DOWN TO THE WIRE BUT WE CAN'T GIVE UP YET. IF WE GIVE UP, EVERYTHING IS OVER. IF WE DON'T, AT LEAST WE HAVE A CHANCE.

I'M THE ONE WHO SOUNDED THE ALARM, AND I'M NOT GOING TO CURL UP AND DIE YET.

Reblog this post in every LEGAL way you can under the Tumblr guidelines with the appropriate tags. TELL AND TAG EVERYONE YOU KNOW, then add the tags to see below... and more if you can think of any complying.

Visit badinternetbills.com if you want to find a way to defeat KOSA. It WILL NOT take much of your time. Reblog with any other information or sources, too-- but make sure to reblog if you can.

Reblog if you support lgbtq+ content.

Reblog if you support questioning queer youth and/or abused youth getting the information they need.

Reblog if you support Ao3 and/or other sites that wholeheartedly preserve talentedly made media.

Reblog if you're going to repost this on other sites than Tumblr and spread the word across Twitter, Tik Tok, Pinterest, or elsewhere, alongside the link to badinternetbills.com.

END image ID]

Hey, everyone. So yeah, this is happening. We're still fighting this battle. And we can't give up now. We can't. We can't stand idly by while one of the most important resources that helped us all wake up, or at least start to question things, is being threatened by the government.

We can't stand idly by when kids, teens, and adults just like us still trapped inside might lose access to the resource that could help them wake up. We can't stand idly by when they might lose access to their non JW friends and family. We CAN'T stand idly by when we can do something to stop this bill from passing.

I am sick and tired of this same old song, where conservative fuckers higher up think they can oppress everyone. I am FUCKING SICK of it.

Please, reblog both this post and the original post linked above what I've written, and do what you can to stop KOSA, please. We are running out of time.

I suggest that if it is within your power to do so, that you do more than simply reblog and assume someone else will do something. DON'T assume that. Please do more than just reblogging if you are able to, because that's not really enough at this point.

Call/email representatives in the House and tell them to oppose KOSA (you may want to list different reasons depending on who you're calling, some House representatives are anti-LGBTQ+, so it may be best to tell them to oppose because it violates people's privacy, safety, and anonymity online). Print posters and put them up where legal if you can.

Sharing all this information to other social media sites (Instagram, Reddit, TikTok, the bird app) to reach more people can really help too. The wider the reach, the better.

Thank you. Now let's fucking rip that bill apart like we rip apart Watchtower magazines and eat it for fucking breakfast. (In a "we're eating it and the politicians who are sponsoring it are looking on in horror" kind of way)

[misaamoure]

Backlash.

It was the consequence of overusing your evol.

Not everyone experienced it, but most powerful evolvers have.

And unlucky for you; your evol was quite strong.

You knew this. The Hunters Association knew this. Zayne knew especially well, as to the effects it had on your body.

But nobody knew exactly what your backlash was. People always tried to guess, but to no avail.

Heightened body temperature? No.

Extreme fatigue? No.

Madness, even? Well… not quite.

Your backlash was as unique and strong as you.

Many people faced minor symptoms thiat only impaired them for hours at most.

Yours lasted for at least a day. At most two.

Your backlash made you feel as though the most potent aphrodisiac had been dropped into your body.

It was… beyond embarrassing.

You preferred not to take more than a day off at a time, saving most of your vacation time for Zayne.

So you’d mastered the art of hiding it.

Or so you thought.

You find yourself laying in bed after your strange behavior post mission had been noticed by Tara.

After much poking and prodding at what was wrong with you, she alerted Jenna of your odd symptoms.

After a brief inspection, Jenna sent you home on sick leave and told you not to come in the next day either.

“What a pain,” you thought fleetingly. “I hope they don’t think I’m weird.”

You turn over on your side and groan.

It was like you were burning up. You felt hot and sticky… and there was this ache you couldn’t seem to get rid of.

Sure you could handle your arousal yourself, but that never satisfied you. For long, anyways.

Just as you were about to throw in the towel, a knock on your door interrupted your thoughts.

No… oh no…

It was 5PM on a Thursday… it could only be one person.

You hastily get out of bed, haphazardly throw on your glasses, and speed walk to your front door.

Standing on your tippy toes, you look out the peephole.

FUCK IT WAS ZAYNE

You quickly turn around and put your back against the door, leaning against it in your shock.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed a little too loud.

“I knew you were home,” his voice sounded from the other side of the door. “Let me in.”

“Uhhh no I’m not home. Leave a message okay bye-”

“Stop with your games and just open the door. Your coworkers contacted me and said you were sick. I just want to check on you.”

The concern in his deep, monotonous voice made your resolve crumble.

Exhaling before fixing your hair and pushing up your glasses, you open the door.

His piercing green eyes bore into yours, making your knees go a little weak.

He’s so handsome…

You shook those thoughts from your head.

It seems he came right from the hospital. He was still wearing his white button up, black slacks, and his glasses.

“Thanks for the concern, but really Zayne I’m fine.”

Ignoring your blatant lie, he gently put a hand on your forehead.

“You’re burning up,” he frowns. “Go back inside.”

Not particularly having the energy to argue, you trudge back to your room and flop down on your bed.

You had the impression that Zayne was right behind you, but it seemed like he had gone elsewhere in the house.

Moments later, he emerged from wherever the fuck he’d gone with a glass of water and two pills.

Zayne sat down on the edge of your bed and handed both items to you.

“Here, take these.”

You hastily do as he says, wanting to get him in and out as quick as possible while you were in this state.

It’s not that you didn’t want to see him; you didn’t want him to see you like this.

“Finished. You must be super busy so I don’t wanna keep you long. Why don’t you-”

“Aren’t you going to tell me what’s wrong first? I’m your primary care physician.”

Damn him and his… sweet and caring concern.

You heart swelled, but once again you groaned and turned away from him on your side.

You had two options right now.

Option one: be honest and tell him everything. He wouldn’t judge you… probably…

Option two: play into being sick and evade any and all questions until he left.

You turned your head to look back at him, and his concerned gaze looked back at you.

Zayne was your best friend. He wouldn’t do anything to harm you. Or say anything to hurt you.

He only ever wanted the best for you. And tried his best to take care of you and make you happy.

And you loved him. And you were pretty sure he loved you.

You decided to just be honest. He is your doctor after all… maybe he could help you.

“Zayne do you experience backlash symptoms after using your evol?”

He nods. “My body temperature drops dangerously low.”

You sighed. You fucking wish you had his backlash.

“Why? Are you experiencing backlash right now?”

Now it was your turn to nod.

“My backlash isn’t temperature irregularities or fatigue or nausea,” you turned over again. You didn’t wanna look him the eyes for this one. “It’s a little- well a lot different. Very different.”

There was a pause before Zayne’s response.

“Go on.” He tone seemed skeptical.

“It’s arousal.” You mumbled quickly, gripping the sheets and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Pardon?” Zayne either didn’t hear you at all, or seemed not to hear you correctly.

“It’s…” you sighed again, tears brimming from the sheer embarrassment of your confession. “Arousal. My backlash is arousal. And I can’t control it.”

Another pause.

“I see.” He said solemnly. You felt him move on the bed, and assumed he was doing that stupid ass thing where he puts his hand on his chin.

His reaction, or lack thereof, was the nail in the coffin for you.

You started to snuffle as tears ran down your face.

Zayne was immediately startled by this.

“Are you crying?”

“No, you idiot.” You clearly weren’t a good liar. Why do you keep trying?

Zayne sighs before you feel him move once again, and suddenly he’s hugging you from behind.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” his voice took on a much softer tone now that he sees your upset. “There are many different types of backlashes. Some more extreme than others.”

You leaned in to his hug, finding comfort in his calm voice and cool body.

“I was so afraid you were going to judge me.” You looked over your shoulder at him, glasses clinking against each others.

“I would never.”

You both seemed relieved as you say in silence. Hugging each other as you calmed down.

As comforting as Zayne’s hold was, it was doing nothing for your backlash.

You shifted in his hold.

Alright, now you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Zayne, please,” you pleaded, looking back at him one again and peering up at him from the top of your glasses, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Another pause… a longer one this time.

Usually Zayne doesn’t take that long to think. He must really be plotting this time.

Suddenly, you feel his ice cold hands running all over your body.

You just barely stifled the moan that threatened to leave your lips.

“Zayne…” You whimper his name, and you heard his breathing pick up.

“Do you want my help?”

You felt like you just had cold water dumped all over you.

“W… what?” Surely he was fucking around.

“Do you want my help, Y/N?”

Him saying your name sent shivers down your spine.

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.” While his gaze once held concern, now held something else.

Something new in him you’d never seen before.

“Zayne… are you sure?” This time you fully turn around to face him.

This time he doesn’t respond. He just wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you on top of him.

You squeal as he positions you so that you’re straddling him.

And then… you feel it.

Your eyes widen and you look down.

His dick straining against his pants. Right under you.

It was deliciously hard against you, and you could feel the warmth through the layers you both have on.

“Does that answer your question?”

Now you really couldn’t hold back.

You quickly bent down to catch his lips in a desperate kiss.

It was nasty and sloppy. All tongue and lips… something you’d never expect from him.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bring him to sit up with you.

Instinctively he grabbed your waist, dragging his hands down your back and ass as he fervently kissed you back.

Once again feeling his cold hands on you, you moaned freely at his touch.

Grabbing your hips, he pulled them forward, causing you to grind down on his erection.

This caused you to break the kiss with a pleasured sob.

“Oh my god, Zayne-!” He was hitting just the right spot.

This was enough motivation for him apparently, so he kept going.

Gripping his shoulders for dear life, you kept dragging your cunt against that one spot that sent waves through your body, as Zayne kissed down your neck.

It was all becoming too much… Zayne sucking that sweet spot on your neck and his cock grinding against your clit so deliciously.

“Wait,” you pushed him away weakly. “Zayne wait…”

He immediately halted his actions.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna cum like this,” you gripped his shoulders again as you looked away. “I wanna do… other things too.”

Zayne chuckles, something he rarely does, before leaning back to loosen his tie.

You shifted in his lap again at the sight, making his exhale sharply.

“What do you want to do?” He looks up at you, the ghost of a smile on his face.

Shit. You didn’t think you’d get this far.

“I… don’t know.” You bashfully admit. You don’t dare meet his gaze.

You feel him grip your chin and turn your head towards his and forces you to look into his eyes.

He made you so nervous.

“I can take the lead if you want. Just let me take care of you.” Zayne’s soft tone of voice almost puts you at ease.

But how could you truly relax when you were literally sitting on his hard dick?

You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Okay,” you nod, finally looking right at him. “I trust you.”

Zayne smiles fully this time, before running his thumb over your bottom lip.

“That’s my girl.”

[prokopetz]

Hi, I can you shed some light into what happened with the third edition of nobilis and the DeviantArt art? I ask out of genuine curiosity and confusion, as my first impression with nobilis came through tvtropes and the vague posting happening inside the article talking about stolen art, and frankly I never heard a comprehensive anything, from any traceable source. Thanks.

Mm. The gory details aren't really my story to tell (and I'm given to understand that the game's author doesn't like to talk about it, so please don't go pestering her on my account!), but in the interest of heading off the rumour mill, the short version is as follows:

Nobilis 3rd Edition was originally funded via Kickstarter under the banner of Eos Press – who, to be clear, were merely the game's publisher, not its creator.

When the game's preview edition was released to Kickstarter backers, folks noticed that some of its illustrations looked awfully familiar. Several pieces were quickly identified as having been traced from Touhou fanart published on DeviantArt and elsewhere.

The preview edition was withdrawn, and new art obtained to replace the plagiarised pieces. Eos Press made no statement accepting responsibility for the fiasco, and some of the replacement art was apparently commissioned at the author's own expense, both of which are highly irregular; however, at the time, most people assumed it was just the usual small-press lack of professionalism at work.

Fast forward four years, and the owner of Eos Press gets caught red-handed misappropriating Kickstarter funds for personal use, albeit from a different project. In light of this, it's been speculated Eos Press' owner also pocketed the art budget for Nobilis 3rd Edition; that would explain both the low-effort plagiarism and the game's author having to pay for the replacement art out of pocket.

The author of Nobilis subsequently cut ties with Eos Press, recovered the game's publishing rights, and independently published her own version which replaces Eos' "contributions" with original material, produced at her own considerable effort and expense. This version of Nobilis 3rd Edition is the one that's currently for sale via DriveThruRPG and elsewhere.

Clear as mud?

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Social Quitting

In “Social Quitting,” my latest Locus Magazine column, I advance a theory to explain the precipitous vibe shift in how many of us view the once-dominant social media platforms, Facebook and Twitter, and how it is that we have so quickly gone asking what we can do to get these services out of our lives to where we should go now that we’re all ready to leave them:

https://locusmag.com/2023/01/commentary-cory-doctorow-social-quitting/

The core of the argument revolves around surpluses — that is, the value that exists in the service. For a user, surpluses are things like “being able to converse with your friends” and “being able to plan activities with your friends.” For advertisers, surpluses are things like “being able to target ads based on the extraction and processing of private user data” and “being able to force users to look at ads before they can talk to one another.”

For the platforms, surpluses are things like, “Being able to force advertisers and business customers to monetize their offerings through the platform, blocking rivals like Onlyfans, Patreon, Netflix, Amazon, etc” and things like “Being able to charge more for ads” and “being able to clone your business customers’ products and then switch your users to the in-house version.”

Platforms control most of the surplus-allocating options. They can tune your feed so that it mostly consists of media and text from people you explicitly chose to follow, or so that it consists of ads, sponsored posts, or posts they think will “boost engagement” by sinking you into a dismal clickhole. They can made ads skippable or unskippable. They can block posts with links to rival sites to force their business customers to transact within their platform, so they can skim fat commissions every time money changes hands and so that they can glean market intelligence about which of their business customers’ products they should clone and displace.

But platforms can’t just allocate surpluses will-ye or nill-ye. No one would join a brand-new platform whose sales-pitch was, “No matter who you follow, we’ll show you other stuff; there will be lots of ads that you can’t skip; we will spy on you a lot.” Likewise, no one would sign up to advertise or sell services on a platform whose pitch was “Our ads are really expensive. Any business you transact has to go through us, and we’ll take all your profits in junk fees. This also lets us clone you and put you out of business.”

Instead, platforms have to carefully shift their surpluses around: first they have to lure in users, who will attract business customers, who will generate the fat cash surpluses that can be creamed off for the platforms’ investors. All of this has to be orchestrated to lock in each group, so that they won’t go elsewhere when the service is enshittified as it processes through its life-cycle.

This is where network effects and switching costs come into play. A service has “network effects” if it gets more valuable as users join it. You joined Twitter to talk to the people who were already using it, and then other people joined so they could talk to you.

“Switching costs” are what you have to give up when you leave a service: if a service is siloed — if it blocks interoperability with rivals — then quitting that service means giving up access to the people whom you left behind. This is the single most important difference between ActivityPub-based Fediverse services like Mastodon and the silos like Twitter and Facebook — you can quit a Fediverse server and set up somewhere else, and still maintain your follows and followers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/23/semipermeable-membranes/#free-as-in-puppies

In the absence of interoperability, network effects impose their own switching cost: the “collective action problem” of deciding when to leave and where to go. If you depend on the people you follow and who follow you — for emotional support, for your livelihood, for community — then the extreme difficulty of convincing everyone to leave at the same time and go somewhere else means that you can be enticed into staying on a service that you no longer enjoy. The platforms can shift the surpluses away from you, provided that doing so makes you less miserable than abandoning your friends or fans or customers would. This is the Fiddler On the Roof problem: everyone stays put in the shtetl even though the cossacks ride through on the reg and beat the shit out of them, because they can’t all agree on where to go if they leave:

https://doctorow.medium.com/how-to-leave-dying-social-media-platforms-9fc550fe5abf

So the first stage of the platform lifecycle is luring in users by allocating lots of surplus to them — making the service fun and great and satisfying to use. Few or no ads, little or no overt data-collection, feeds that emphasize the people you want to hear from, not the people willing to pay to reach you.

This continues until the service attains a critical mass: once it becomes impossible to, say, enroll your kid in a little-league baseball team without having a Facebook account, then Facebook can start shifting its surpluses to advertisers and other business-users of the platform, who will pay Facebook to interpose themselves in your use of the platform. You’ll hate it, but you won’t leave. Junior loves little-league.

Facebook can enshittify its user experience because the users are now locked in, holding each other hostage. If Facebook can use the courts and technological countermeasures to block interoperable services, it can increase its users’ switching costs, producing more opportunities for lucrative enshittification without the risk of losing the users that make Facebook valuable to advertisers. That’s why Facebook pioneered so many legal tactics for criminalizing interoperability:

https://www.eff.org/cases/facebook-v-power-ventures

This is the second phase of the toxic platform life-cycle: luring in business customers by shifting surpluses from users to advertisers, sellers, etc. This is the moment when the platforms offer cheap and easy monetization, low transaction fees, few barriers to off-platform monetization, etc. This is when, for example, a news organization can tease an article on its website with an off-platform link, luring users to click through and see the ads it controls.

Because Facebook has locked in its users through mutual hostage-taking, it can pollute their feeds with lots of these posts to news organizations’ sites, bumping down the messages from its users’ friends, and that means that Facebook can selectively tune how much traffic it gives to different kinds of business customers. If Facebook wants to lure in sports sites, it can cram those sites’ posts into millions of users’ feeds and send floods of traffic to sports outlets.

Outlets that don’t participate in Facebook lose out, and so they join Facebook, start shoveling their content into it, hiring SEO Kremlinologists to help them figure out how to please The Algorithm, in hopes of gaining a permanent, durable source of readers (and thus revenue) for their site.

But ironically, once a critical mass of sports sites are on Facebook, Facebook no longer needs to prioritize sports sites in its users’ feeds. Now that the sports sites all believe that a Facebook presence is a competitive necessity, they will hold each other hostage there, egging each other on to put more things on Facebook, even as the traffic dwindles.

Once sports sites have taken each other hostage, Facebook can claw back the surplus it allocated to them and use it to rope in another sector — health sites, casual games, employment seekers, financial advisors, etc etc. Each group is ensnared by a similar dynamic to the one that locks in the users.

But there is a difference between users’ surpluses and business’s surpluses. A user’s surplus is attention, and there is no such thing as an “attention economy.” You can’t use attention to pay for data-centers, or executive bonuses, or to lobby Congress. Attention is not a currency in the same way that cryptos are not currency — it is not a store of value, nor a unit of exchange, nor or a unit of account.

Turning attention into money requires the same tactics as turning crypto into money — you have to lure in people who have real, actual money and convince them to swap it for attention. With crypto, this involved paying Larry David, Matt Damon, Spike Lee and LeBron James to lie about crypto’s future in order to rope in suckers who would swap their perfectly cromulent “fiat” money for unspendable crypto tokens.

With platforms, you need to bring in business customers who get paid in actual cash and convince them to give you that cash in exchange for ethereal, fast-evaporating, inconstant, unmeasurable “attention.” This works like any Ponzi scheme (that is, it works like cryptos): you can use your shareholders’ cash to pay short-term returns to business customers, losing a little money as a convincer that brings in more trade.

That’s what Facebook did when it sent enormous amounts of traffic to a select few news-sites that fell for the pivot to video fraud, in order to convince their competitors to borrow billions of dollars to finance Facebook’s bid to compete with Youtube:

https://doctorow.medium.com/metaverse-means-pivot-to-video-adbe09319038

This convincer strategy is found in every con. If you go to the county fair, you’ll see some poor bastard walking around all day with a giant teddy bear that he “won” by throwing three balls into a peach-basket. The carny who operated that midway game let him win the teddy precisely so that he would walk around all day, advertising the game, which is rigged so that no one else wins the giant teddy-bear:

https://boingboing.net/2006/08/27/rigged-carny-game.html

Social media platforms can allocate giant teddy-bears to business-customers, and it can also withdraw them at will. Careful allocations mean that the platform can rope in a critical mass of business customers and then begin the final phase of its life-cycle: allocating surpluses to its shareholders.

We know what this looks like.

Rigged ad-markets:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jedi_Blue

Understaffed content moderation departments:

https://www.dw.com/en/twitters-sacking-of-content-moderators-will-backfire-experts-warn/a-63778330

Knock-off products:

https://techcrunch.com/2021/12/08/twitter-is-the-latest-platform-to-test-a-tiktok-copycat-feature/

Nuking “trust and safety”:

https://www.reuters.com/technology/twitter-dissolves-trust-safety-council-2022-12-13/

Hiding posts that have links to rival services:

https://www.makeuseof.com/content-types-facebook-hides-why/

Or blocking posts that link to rival services:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/19/better-failure/#let-my-tweeters-go

Or worse, terminating accounts for linking to rival services:

https://blog.joinmastodon.org/2022/12/twitter-suspends-mastodon-account-prevents-sharing-links/

That is, once a platform has its users locked in, and has its business customers locked in, it can enshittify its service to the point of near uselessness without losing either, allocating all the useful surplus in the business to its shareholders.

But this strategy has a problem: users and business customers don’t like to be locked in! They will constantly try to find ways to de-enshittify your service and/or leave for greener pastures. And being at war with your users and business customers means that your reputation continuously declines, because every time a user or business customer figures out a way to claw back some surplus, you have to visibly, obviously enshittify your service wrestle it back.

Every time a service makes headlines for blocking an ad-blocker, or increasing its transaction fees, or screwing over its users or business customers in some other way, it makes the case that the price you pay for using the service is not worth the value it delivers.

In other words, the platforms try to establish an equilibrium where they only leave business customers and users with the absolute bare minimum needed to keep them on the service, and extract the rest for their shareholders. But this is a very brittle equilibrium, because the prices that platforms impose on their users and business customers can change very quickly, even if the platforms don’t do anything differently.

Users and business customers can revalue the privacy costs, or the risks of staying on the platform based on exogenous factors. Privacy scandals and other ruptures can make the cost you’ve been paying for years seem higher than you realized and no longer worth it.

This problem isn’t unique to social media platforms, either. It’s endemic to end-stage capitalism, where companies can go on for years paying their workers just barely enough to survive (or even less, expecting them to get public assistance and/or a side-hustle), and those workers can tolerate it, and tolerate it, and tolerate it — until one day, they stop.

The Great Resignation, Quiet Quitting, the mass desertions from the gig economy — they all prove the Stein’s Law: “Anything that can’t go on forever will eventually stop.”

Same for long, brittle supply-chains, where all the surplus has been squeezed out: concentrating all the microchip production in China and Taiwan, all the medical saline in Puerto Rico, all the shipping into three cartels… This strategy works well, and can be perfectly tuned with mathematical models that cut right to the joint, and they work and they work.

Until they stop. Until covid. Or war. Or wildfires. Or floods. Or interest rate hikes. Or revolution. All this stuff works great until you wake up and discover that the delicate balance between paying for guard labor and paying for a fair society has tilted, and now there’s a mob building a guillotine outside the gates of your luxury compound.

This is the force underpinning collapse: “slow at first, then all at once.” A steady erosion of the failsafes, flensing all the slack out of the system, extracting all the surpluses until there’s nothing left in the reservoir, no reason to stay.

It’s what caused the near-collapse of Barnes and Noble, and while there are plenty of ways to describe James Daunt’s successful turnaround, the most general characterization is, “He has reallocated the company’s surpluses to workers, readers, writers and publishers”:

https://tedgioia.substack.com/p/what-can-we-learn-from-barnes-and

A system can never truly stabilize. This is why utopias are nonsense: even if you design the most perfect society in which everything works brilliantly, it will still have to cope with war and meteors and pandemics and other factors beyond your control. A system can’t just work well, it has to fail well.

This is why I object so strenuously to people who characterize my 2017 novel Walkaway as a “dystopian novel.” Yes, the protagonists are eking out survival amidst a climate emergency and a failing state, but they aren’t giving up, they’re building something new:

https://locusmag.com/2017/06/bruce-sterling-reviews-cory-doctorow/

“Dystopia” isn’t when things go wrong. Assuming nothing will go wrong doesn’t make you an optimist, it makes you an asshole. A dangerous asshole. Assuming nothing will go wrong is why they didn’t put enough lifeboats on the Titanic. Dystopia isn’t where things go wrong. Dystopia is when things go wrong, and nothing can be done about it.

Anything that can’t go on forever will eventually stop. The social media barons who reeled users and business customers into a mutual hostage-taking were confident that their self-licking ice-cream cone — in which we all continued to energetically produce surpluses for them to harvest, because we couldn’t afford to leave — would last forever.

They were wrong. The important thing about the Fediverse isn’t that it’s noncommercial or decentralized — it’s that its design impedes surplus harvesting. The Fediverse is designed to keep switching costs as low as possible, by enshrining the Right Of Exit into the technical architecture of the system. The ability to leave a service without paying a price is the best defense we have against the scourge of enshittification.

(Thanks to Tim Harford for inspiring this column via an offhand remark in his kitchen a couple months ago!)

[Image ID: The Phillip Medhurst Picture Torah 397. The Israelites collect manna. Exodus cap 16 v 14. Luyken and son.]

[catboybiologist]

Alright. We need to talk about screenshotting my posts and putting them on other sites.

tl;dr: feel free to screenshot and spread my posts, but if you do so or see someone else doing so, please let me know. Either tag me (same username on youtube and reddit) or send me a link here.

Reasoning/why I'm saying this now under the cut.

Recently, I've noticed increase in the number of my posts that have made it to the subreddit r/curatedtumblr. This subreddit is a bit of a gateway to tiktok, youtube, and any other site that reposts tumblr screenshots - usually, AI video voiceover videos use the exact screenshots that were posted to reddit first, so usually r/curatedtumblr is the first "leak" of a post having reach outside of tumblr itself.

Now.

Most of the time, I don't have a problem with this. I even like it when random stuff I say has a reach beyond my usual community, and maybe even has a chance to resonate with someone that wouldn't have seen it otherwise. I don't know which one of my posts are going to resonate with other communities and other people, so I also don't want the only way for a an idea of mine to make it to another platform to be me manually posting that idea there myself. curatedtumblr has a blacklist of blogs who do not want to be post to that subreddit, but for this reason, I don't necessarily want to add myself to this blacklist. And of course, most of the time what gets reposted is a random shitpost, so its not a big deal.

However. Occasionally, a post of mine that is political, or has a deeper discussion associated with it, or something along those lines, is reposted elsewhere. And well, things can get very weird. Discussion can go in directions that I can't control, context can be added or removed that completely alters my point, and I can start to attract hate from people without even knowing it. And when this happens, it tends to spill back to me. When my posts make it to other platforms, its pretty normal to get a slight uptick in hate, or even just people finding that post and adding their own misinterpretation or discussion that happened 100% without me knowing. Being looped into the conversation, or even being able to see what kind of

A frustrating, but ultimately harmless example, is the "peak androgyny gandalf big naturals" post. I added context to that to clarify the way I was making fun of societal standards of androgyny as a whole, when the post instead seemed to be interpreted as the "correct" way to be nonbinary, which was not my intention at all.

I found the post on reddit, posted my own screenshots with the context I added, and was able to participate in the conversation, which helped a lot! But, the original, contextless post was up long enough that it pretty much solidified that misinterpretation as the main way people read that post.

I considered posting something like this then, but again, its ultimately harmless. I would've liked to participate in the reddit discussion earlier, but no biggie. So I didn't mention anything then.

Today, I opened reddit and saw this:

That title is not mine. It was added by the person who posted it to curatedtumblr. I've since had a respectful conversation with u/Hummerous, and they agreed to take the post down. 0 hate to them, again, they were respectful, and I'm screenshotting their username with permission.

This reads as a call for violence. Specifically, it reads as a call for violence that I am saying, and was attributed to me without my knowledge or consent.

This was not the intention of the original post. I was specifically referring to social ostricization, deplatforming, and anger responses, which are the forms of "silencing" that conservatives typically complain about.

Look. Responsible left wing gun ownership is something I support. Calls to extreme action are sometimes warranted. However, I am not qualified to comment on these, encourage them, or communicate about them. Communication of a specific topic is a skill. I do not possess that skill as it relates to guns or gun ownership. There are many, many other activists who do. Miscommunication can be dangerous. I want the most qualified and strongest voices to communicate properly. For this issue, that is not me.

This post isn't even about gun ownership, but suddenly, I'm forced to comment on it. If it seems like I'm pussyfooting around the topic, then yeah, I am- because this post is a little fucking scary on my end, and escalates rhetoric against me and others around me. Again, without my knowledge or consent.

I saw this post and was able to request it be taken down. But by that time, it already had 1.2k upvotes and god knows how many people who had seen it. If I were tagged earlier, I could've asked for that earlier, and I would be a little less jumpy right now.

So please. PLEASE. If you see a post of mine on another platform, please either ping me on that platform or send me a link to that post via tumblr DMs.

[madl-y]

✧. ┊— you're the one that I like (I can't deny)

3 times Orter Mádl denied his affection for someone, and the one time he was too tired to defend himself.

sypnosis – the other divive visionaries are sick of seeing orter lovesick (despite being amused themselves) so they try to push him to confess. (they, mainly being kaldo and ryoh. lance was there unwillingly)

> no tw! fluff! hopefully not ooc..? beware of grammar and spelling mistakes (sorry..)

> set in post innocent zero! so mild manga spoilers :"DD

> its also been a while since i've started writing fics again! this was kind of an impulse decision ahahaha...!

> i also didn't expect this to be long! sorry :"D

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

1 - 3 : EASTON ACADEMY

Orter Mádl never thought he'd see you again.

This is the third time in a row that he, alongside with another person, finished the assigned mission in each class that gives silver coins. Orter glances at the side, where another student slowly walks to the front as the teacher sang praises about them. Of course never forgetting the 'lectures' on how everyone should take inspiration from the two of them. (Frankly, it was getting quite sickening to hear.)

He kept his gaze at the front, while his awareness and attention is still directed at you. You, who always managed to keep up with him in tasks and classes. You, who despite having a weak personal magic, had always excelled at other spells. It was to the point where higher level year spells and advance magic was so easy for you.

You, who Orter thought that the first piece of the silver coin you got was a fluke.

Evidently enough, it wasn't.

Finally, after a lot of unnecessary speeches and praises, Orter and you are able to go back with the rest of the class. It seems most students were willing to run away the moment the teacher announced class was over.

Orter pushed his glasses and sighed. He finally felt the weight of his pocket from the gold coins he acquired recently.

Just from looking at you, Orter knew you felt the weight too.

Its nothing new. Clearly, Easton has a lot of students that were born talented. Easton in itself is a privilege. The best and the talented are here. Orter knew he'll have to face a lot of strong magic users just to carve his path towards becoming a Divine Visionary.

He must become one. Someone needs to maintain order. He needs to punish all those who dare and try go against society. He needs to fulfill his wish—

"Orter, aren't you going?" He blinked. Surprisingly, (or not really) Orter found himself still rooted on the grass. His previous place just a few steps behind him.

Ah, right. Someone called out to him.

That someone gazed up to him. Orter got used to people having to slightly tilt their head up from how tall he is. Though, he never noticed that your height reached his shoulders.

"Orter?" You called out again.

Orter shook his head, trying to keep his mind from wandering elsewhere.

Somehow, this always happens. Its always whenever the two of your interact with each other. Orter gets distracted and gods knows why!

"Sorry, I was just thinking."

It somewhat became a routine from how it always happens when Orter and you interact.

Its always you who's initiating. A simple greeting in the hallway. A simple show of respect to Orter's achievements. A simple saying of "congratulations" whenever Orter finishes first in class quizzes.

And it always follows up with an act of concern to when Orter spaces out.

Because somehow, he always ends up thinking of you. How did you keep up? What did you do? What magic spells were you able to wield so easily, yet you're own personal magic was so weak? Why were you talking to him? Did you want to become a Divine Visionary? Should he expect you as a future enemy? Why do your eyes always look like they're shining under the bright warm sun? Why—

"If you excuse me, I need to go." Orter bowed before walking away. He hasten his pace at the mere sound of your voice that stopped midway to ask something of him.

Why is it that its always you he exerts his effort to think about?

Its irrational. Its... nonsense.

Yet somehow, he couldn't help but think how prettier you are up close.

And its ridiculous to think about.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

2 - 3 : BUREAU OF MAGIC

When Orter thought that you might be working alongside with him, he didn't mean with you as just an assistant.

"You really saved me time, thanks!"

"These notes are so well organized... I should learn from you."

"I'm starting to see why the Divine Visionaries respect you alot."

"Heh..? Not bad from an assistant."

"Be nice, Renatus."

"Shut up, you stuck up hag." Sophina Biblia glared at the foul word.

"You–!"

"Would you like some honey sashimi with me?"

"With all due respect, Kaldo." You blankly stared at the Flame Cane and his abomination of a... food choice. "You're tastes in food and honey combinations are the worst thing ever." Kaldo felt an arrow struck through him. The palm of your hand raised up in front of him indicated that you were rejecting his food taste (like everyone else) and flopped to the floor in pain.

The other two visionaries sighed.

"Orter, here is your schedule for today and tomorrow. One of the chiefs in the Police force would like to schedule a meeting with you. Nerey's still clarifying who's attending though." You handed a folder to Orter while ignoring the bickering behind the two of you.

Orter nodded. "I'll take note of that. Although," He took a quick glance at the cup of coffee on your other hand. "I thought you don't drink coffee anymore?"

"Oh, this is for you."

Orter blinked, before pushing up his glasses. "I don't recall ordering one."

"What? Don't tell me you suddenly dislike coffee?" You leaned in with a teasing grin. Any outsider would think that the Sand Cane looks unamused, but working with Orter for a long time means you've known every expression of his, no matter how stoic.

"I didn't say I dislike coffee." Orter sighed.

"Yeah? Then, here you go." You lightly shoved the cup of coffee towards Orter. It looks so casual, as if its something you've done for a long time.

And it is something you've done for a long time.

Orter accepts the coffee. Gingerly taking care of the cup in his hands. His fingers subtly touch against yours.

Its always the same, and yet Orter still feels that small budding affection in him. (Not that he would show it, of course.)

A coworker calls your name. You immediately follow him down the hallway while giving a quick smile to Orter. He nods briefly as he watches your back retreating further.

Actually, Orter already drank a cup of coffee a while ago. He usually doesn't order a second one. He dislikes the feeling him palpitating in the middle of work. It only happened twice, but he refuses to feel it again.

Still, every cup you give him unknowingly, he takes it.

He licks his lips as the warm liquid travels down his throat. Its sweet.

Its sweeter than he's used to. He prefers it with less sugar, and absolutely refuses to let Kaldo brew his cup of coffee.

He takes one more sip.

Orter doesn't mind as he walks back to his office with the cup of coffee and folder in hand.

The next day, you find a freshly brewed cup of tea on your desk.

You tilt your head questioningly. This is a first that's happened ever.

You look around to see if there were someone nearby. Most of them were walking past and chatting with one another.

It tasted good at least. (After confirming that it wasn't poisoned. You wouldn't know what to feel if there was someone who wants you dead.)

Weeks pass by, and there's been at least two times that it has happened. It happens at random times so you weren't sure what the pattern was.

But clearly, the Divine Visionaries know something. Every time you ask, however, they just smile or sigh while giving you a cryptic answer.

Orter just shrugs and walks away.

"Hey-! I wasn't done talking to you!"

"Well, I am." Is what he always replies.

Soon after, Ryoh slings his arms around Orter and gives him a grin. "So... you like her?"

Orter pauses in his steps, before blankly staring at the smug Light Cane. "Her?"

Kaldo emerged from the sides. "Oh? Never thought you were the type to play dumb." His smile grows at the bristled look Orter directed at him.

"I'm not playing dumb."

"Sure."

"Its just that, she's the one you only prepare tea just right before she arrives at work. You don't do that to anyone else." Orter stares at Ryoh, who just smiles knowingly. Nothing escapes the Light Cane afterall.

"My, my, who thought that I have a rival in finding ways to charm a girl? Me, the greatest creation–" Orter shrugs off the narcissist before he can start his self narration.

Kaldo walks beside Orter, "So, you truly like her?"

Orter sighed, pushing his glasses in habit. "I don't."

Kaldo hummed in thought, "I'm not convinced." The Flame Cane frowned. "You two seem to get along well. No plans of confessing?" He tries to push further for answers, which makes Orter irritated.

"If you're not convinced, that's not my problem." Gold eyes glared sharply. "Again, I don't like her. I'm just giving back favors. I don't know about you, but I don't think gossiping is how a visionary should spend their day."

With that, Orter walks away ignoring the stares from the two.

It's natural to repay favors. You don't need to know Orter was the one brewing the tea on your desk after every coffee you give him.

Kaldo and Ryoh stared before smiling at each other.

"He likes her." Ryoh grinned.

Kaldo nodded in agreement.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

3 - 3 : EASTON ACADEMY

The bell rang indicating that class is finally over. Which also means that you have successfully made it through the whole day while teaching.... enthusiastic students. (The amount of headaches you've received from teaching students the most basic spells. Offense spells, especially.)

You greeted one last goodbye to the class before heading out towards the faculty.

While your main job is a secretary position in the Bureau, you were also recruited to teach at Easton for once a week. Mostly classes that are supplementary for those with borderline failing grades.

"Ah, who is more suitable than the student who excels in different spells regardless of difficulty? Am I right?" Walhberg's voice resonated in your mind.

It's been a year since you've started teaching. Right after the whole Innocent Zero world abomination happened. Can't say that you're surprised that Finn is one of your students, but he's currently doing better than you expected.

"I have to thank you for being patient with me, Sensei!" You recall Finn beaming with joy as he finally got one of the hardest offense spells to master. Safe to stay you were delighted that you had an impact to students.

Right after this class, you usually head straight towards the Bureau to take over the night shift-

A tap in your shoulder made you halt in the middle of the hallway, "Done with class?"

You come face to face with... huh.

"I didn't know you had a meeting here in Easton?" You should know, because you were in charge of handling the Visionaries' schedules. So you should know that Orter has no business here in Easton.

He shrugs, "I don't."

"Well, yeah, you don't. I should know that— I'm your goddamn secretary— but I'm assuming its an emergency?" You tilt your head in confusion. Gold eyes meet yours, his stare seemingly calculating and... hesitant?

"No." Orter replies.

Silence assumes between the two of you. You raised a questioning brow at Orter who just stares blankly at you.

"Then..? Care to elaborate oh divine one?" You add a hint of sarcasm which Orter slightly bristled at. He sends a sharper glance at you while you smile innocently.

Its not as if the two of you haven't acted that way before. Working together somehow brought the two of you closer and your relationship is somewhat casual.

Other words, you can be as annoying as you want and Orter won't shove sand down your throat.

"I don't know, you're the secretary." He raised a challenging brow back. You scoff in lighthearted annoyance while Orter seemed unfazed. That is, if it weren't for the ghost of a smile you managed to capture.

If you can be annoying as you want without consequence, then Orter will do the same.

"Okay but really, why are you here?" You question seriously while inviting Orter to walk beside you towards the faculty. He follows while keeping his gaze ahead.

"Hmm... You're headed towards the Bureau after this?"

"Oh? How did you know?" You ask with slight surprise. Nobody ever bothered to know your schedule, except for the ones that are quite obvious.

Orter sighed and sent you a dry look. "We've worked together for a long time."

A laugh escapes your throat, "Yeah, well, I've only started teaching a year ago. Until now, some forget I have to teach weekly then head towards the Bureau. I swear, its laughable at the same time such a headache. They keep on scheduling things when they shouldn't be." You sighed roughly, wondering if you should start scolding your coworkers more.

"They're idiots." Another laugh escapes your throat at Orter's words. "I'm guessing they're the same ones that accidentally added in my schedule that I'm supposed to be here at Easton." You see the way Orter's usual calm expression turns slightly irritated. Not evident that anyone from outside could see, but enough for someone like you who've known Orter since studying at Easton.

"Oh I see, that's how it is." You stifle another laugh, not wanting to irritate Orter further, but can't help the urge to tease him.

"You say its a headache when they do this, yet you're laughing? How annoying." Orter let out a huff while you grin.

"Maybe its laughable when I see others suffer." You teasingly smirk.

Orter rolled his eyes, yet he can't help but feel a minute affection at the casual interaction between you.

"You haven't answered my question, Orter."

Ah right. He hasn't.

Orter paused in his steps. Causing you two pause beside him too before facing him with a questioning smile.

Again, its the same. As if they're back studying at Easton where Orter always sees that smile of yours. Its always the same, so how come he always felt the same emotions where his stomach and chest swirl at the sight of it. At the sight of you.

He cleared his throat, "I did. I told you they sent me on accident. Messing up my schedule."

"That's true, but you could've gone back immediately." You turn your gaze towards the group of students on the field where they were practicing spells or playing around.

"You caused quite a commotion you know? It was hard to settle down my last class because apparently, a Divine Visionary is on Easton grounds." You cross your arms while a playful pout forms on your lips. "They were more focused on the fact that the Sand Cane was here. That was an hour ago, so care to explain?" You sigh in exhaustion. However, your pout was replaced by a smile the moment you see Orter's subtle shift in his eyes while he looked dejected at being caught. Again, only you could see those minute expressions behind his stoic attitude.

Orter pursed his lips, he didn't expect that his presence would be that of a commotion. To think he was confident in concealing his presence right before your class.

Huh, nothing really escapes you.

"That's.." Orter glanced away while pushing his glasses up. "Its not like it wouldn't hurt to—"

"Sensei."

"—visit you.."

Orter went silent before sending a glance to the person who had the guts to interrupt to people talking-!

His mouth opens in slight surprise at the look of one of the students he was mentoring.

Additionally, Lance looked equally as surprise to see Orter right behind you. He blinked, wondering if he interrupted something. He was pretty sure he heard another voice overlapping with his once he called for you.

"Sensei, Orter-san." Lance bows politely then turns back to you.

He sees in the corner of his eye how Orter pushed his glasses up (a tiny bit harsher) and looked away. Lance didn't have time to think about it as you call for his name.

"Yes, Lance?" You smile at the younger Divine Visionary.

"Ah, Finn wanted me to tell you that he can't go to the faculty after class to bring you his assignment. His other teacher told him to stay after class." Lance handed you a sheet of paper.

"He asked me to deliver it to you instead."

"Oh, thank you Lance! Its nice to see you taking care of Finn. Please tell him he did a great job and not to worry." You smile brightly as you felt another wave of pride for Finn. Sure he was called as the "weakest" in your supplementary class, but he's improving. A lot. Especially under your guidance.

One glance at Finn's paper, and you already knew he's going to have another high score soon enough.

"Also, Professor Claude told me to look for you. Apparently there's an emergency meeting with the faculty."

At the mention of Claude, you couldn't help but grimace. Lance didn't seem fazed at your expression, yet he also can't help sending a pitying glance at you.

Orter just raised his brow.

"And he couldn't tell me himself...?" You mumbled questioningly.

"He said he was busy." Lance replied dryly.

"Sure, he always says that." You muttered once again, not bothering to hide your disdain at your fellow professor.

You perked at the sound of someone clearing his throat. You turn to Orter apologetically. "Sorry, Orter. I forgot you were there."

While Orter didn't seem fazed on the outside, Lance could see the slight twitch on his forehead.

"I think Lance may have accidentally cut you off." You smiled sheepishly.

Lance thought so too.

"What was it you were going to say?"

Orter remained quiet for a moment before sighing. "Its nothing. I was about to head back to the Bureau."

While you nodded understandingly, Orter took the chance to sharply glare at Lance in displeasure. Maybe he should teach this kid a thing or two on how to not interrupt two adults when they're having a conversation.

Lance stared back unfazed.

"Well then, I have to go! Can you do me a favor and tell anyone who asks for me that I have an emergency meeting at the faculty?"

The Sand Cane let out a sigh, displeasure thinly veiled in his expression. Orter, however, nodded while his stoic look returns. "Sure."

"Thank you!" You bowed and smiled gratefully before quickly walking away. "See you around as well, Lance!"

The blue haired nodded as he and Orter stood still while watching your retreating back.

Once its just the two of them, it seems tension has risen again between them. Despite the fact Orter is training Lance, and frequently sees him around from the fact Lance is the newest Visionary.

Still, Orter can't help but stare at Lance who, of course is one of the known people to be stubborn as hell, stares back as well.

Orter is starting to think he should say something to rid of this awkward silence.

"Are you—"

"Did I—"

Both visionaries closed their mouths.

A sense of Déjà vu passes through them.

Orter tries once more.

"Did—"

"Is—"

....If he wasn't annoyed, he'd be very astonished right now.

Lance quickly spoke before Orter could, "Did I interrupt something?"

Orter just sighed heavily, "Sort of." His shoulders dropping as he recalls that very scenario just a moment ago.

"Sorry, I actually didn't see you there." Lance said politely as he could. Rubbing the back of his neck in slight awkwardness.

"Its fine. It wasn't important."

"It looked like it was though." The younger visionary rolled his shoulders as he looks away in thought. Orter raises his brow at the comment while Lance looked as if he remembered something.

"Ah, so she's the one Kaldo-san and Ryoh-san were saying that you liked?" With the way Lance said it with such a straight face, Orter had to process the words that was casually spoken.

"...What?" Orter's face crumbled in irritation.

Lance continued to look to the side in thought, oblivious to the way Orter was seething. "So that's why your schedule changed all of a sudden. I thought there's someone who was going to attack Easton so I was on guard the whole time."

Lance glanced back to Orter. "But Kaldo-san and Ryoh-san told me not to worry about it. It was quite a headache since a lot of our classmates heard news of you in the school grounds. Although, I never thought you were the type to agree to change your schedule for someone you like—" Lance felt a magical aura out of nowhere and began to get his guard up. Ever since Innocent Zero, its like an instinct at this point.

However, he paused as he noticed Orter who looked the same as usual. Straight-faced and stoic, yet Lance could see how tense he was.

"...I see." Orter said lowly.

He began to stare ahead in thought, before bringing out his wand and turn around without glancing at Lance. "Thank you for providing information. However, I would like to clarify everything was false."

One look at Orter, and you'd think he was just as calm and composed. Lance's glance at the hand gripping his wand tightly made him think otherwise.

The other knew to not say anything further, lest he drowns with sand flowing down his throat and out his ass.

"Everything?" But of course, Lance had a stubborn streak. Maybe Mash and Dot were rubbing off him too much.

Orter replied without looking back, "Everything."

"Even the part where they said you like her?" Lance pushed. Call it curiosity, or maybe the fact that someone like Orter indeed has feelings for someone, which makes it so intriguing for Lance to find out more and risk getting buried in sand.

Orter let out a deep exhale, which got Lance tense for a moment, before the Sand Cane started walking again.

"...Yes."

The Adler student watched as his mentor rounded around a corner. He was soon left alone in the hallways.

Lance couldn't help but feel like he caused a murder that's going to happen in the Bureau of Magic.

What's more intriguing, however, was that Lance immediately knew the real answer from the quick moment of silence before Orter replied.

Lance harumphed and went back to his dorms. "...The fact he had to lie even though it was already obvious."

That day, Ryoh and Kaldo struggled to give a lot of excuses to avoid Orter before they were caught.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

FINAL : LIBRARY IN THE BUREAU OF MAGIC

Orter was getting sick of this.

Its been weeks since that awful interaction with Lance and you, yet Orter keeps finding himself victim of Ryoh and Kaldo's infuriating schemes.

What's worse, is that the other visionaries go on about their day. As if there's nothing going on.

Here, Orter is glaring at Ryoh who keeps on convincing him that Orter should get over it and just confess.

Orter would be drowning Ryoh in tons of sands if it weren't for Kaldo backing him up. "I'm getting sick of this." Orter snapped.

"Well, sucks to be you. We're getting sick of it too!" Ryoh grinned while Kaldo laughs as if Orter wasn't getting bombarded with ideas on how to flirt with someone you've like for a long time!

"It was amusing at first, seeing how you'd suddenly act so soft and caring towards her. Yet it began to look painful at how both of you were acting so oblivious." Kaldo sighed as if it was his personal problem, and the fact that Orter can't even hurt them in retaliation, because damn them and they're actually useful for protecting the citizens.

"I don't-!"

"Quit the act! You like her, she likes you back. Now confess!" Ryoh cuts him off while pushing Orter forward to god knows where.

He's actually going to kill these bastards, visionaries or not.

Of course Orter is true to his words, so he brings out his wand and glares at the two. Ryoh just smiled (even though there's a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead at the sight of Orter's wand so close to him) and Kaldo doesn't seem fazed and watches from the side.

"Oi Kaldo! A little help?"

The Flame Cane hummed playfully, "Why, you're the strongest aren't you?"

"But we're in this together!"

"If you two don't stop this, I swear.." Orter gritted his teeth. He has a meeting for goodness sake. He's busy. He's also getting tired of this bullshit of a—

"Oh? What are you three...?" You had to double take the sight in front of you. Ryoh, who's grin faltered at your voice, still has his arms wrapped around Orter's shoulder while leaning his whole body to push Orter forward. Kaldo, who's playful smile drop and is replaced with a look of surprise as he stands from the sides.

Orter on the other hand, blinks and remains still while his expression remains his usual.

That is, if it weren't for the fact that his wand was gripped tightly in his hand and pointed at Ryoh with tiny bits of sand circling around it.

You raise your brow questioningly. "I think sparring between Visionaries is better suited outside and not in the library, no?"

The three blink once before glancing up at the sign above, which shows that indeed, they're in the library.

Just like what Kaldo and Ryoh planned.

Before Orter could protest, he was roughly shoved inside the library. He managed to stop himself from colliding with you.

Curse Ryoh Grantz and his narcissistic attitude because in the end he's still a strong visionary, and Orter prays that all mirrors nearby shall break once he merely appear in front of it.

Kaldo isn't forgotten in Orter's prayers, as he wishes all stocks of honey shall obliterate.

"Well!" Ryoh claps his hands gleefully, unfazed at the menacing glare Orter is sending his way. "Orter's schedule is cleared for the day-"

"It's not-"

"It is?"

"-And he has something he wants to tell you!"

"I don't."

"You do?" You tilt your head at Orter, who inhales deeply. He can feel his patience thinning.

"I don't-"

"He does." Kaldo interjects, and Orter was one step away into murdering the two before the library doors shut.

"Also! Miss secretary, your schedule is also cleared for the day! So spend more time together in the library. I heard you like to read from Kaldo." You can hear the joy in Ryoh's voice despite it being muffled. Which makes you even more confused as you alternatively stare at Orter and back at the doors.

"There are new selections in the library! Especially that one series about the legends of magical creatures." It was Kaldo's voice this time.

"Really?" Orter looked at you in slight disbelief. From how efficient and quick you are to adapt, you sure are easily distracted at what's really happening.

So of course, Orter will use it as an opportunity to—

"Ah, but first listen to what Orter will say." You don't have to see Kaldo to know that he's smiling.

...Orter hopes Kaldo will enjoy having sand in his honey as soon as he dealt with what he's gotten himself too (unwillingly).

It was silent for a moment. This time its a truly awkward one as you and Orter stood still side by side while staring at the entrance of the library.

You blink before giving Orter an embarrassed smile, "So.. I'm guessing you were dragged here against your will?"

Orter sighed tiredly, "Yes."

"I see, but I am curious as to why they had to force you to come here. Apparently, you want to say something?" You questioned, curiosity and slight worry evident in your voice.

Did something happen? Were they hiding something? Or was it just something silly that the visionaries (Ryoh and Kaldo you're guessing) planned and somehow, Orter was on the receiving end.

You watched with slight worry as Orter continued to send daggers towards the entrance of the library. Taking a small step beside him as you examine his expression. Not knowing if he was deliberately choosing to ignore you or not.

"Orter?"

Orter's head jerk up slightly at your voice. Indeed he wasn't choosing to ignore you, but was lost in thought on how to punish his fellow visionaries (mainly the two who shall not be named).

He turned his head towards you, sensing the worry in your tone. An apology for the current situation at hand and reassurance are at the tip of his tongue, ready to reply and.. oh.

For someone with great intuition and reflexes, Orter who prides himself in having great situational awareness— its something he thinks visionaries should have— he wasn't aware you two were this close to each other.

Orter finds himself stunned. A thought he's oh so familiar with immediately floats in his brain every time he coincidentally gets a chance to be close with you.

Again, and again, and again, and again.

Its always the same.

His mind always thinks that you're prettier up close. Not that you weren't pretty if you were far away.

Orter watches your eyes slightly widen at the close proximity you two are in, despite the library being so big. Its as if a spell was cast between you two. Designated to stare at the windows of each other's soul, not wanting to look away.

You think Orter's eyes are pretty. Like sand sparkling with hints of powdered gold that's blending well.

Orter thinks your eyes are glowing. Not physically, but with emotions he himself cannot express. He always finds himself melting at your eyes.

Maybe that's what's getting him soft when he interacts with you. Maybe Ryoh is just mistaken and that anyone you interact with also unwillingly goes soft at the sight you.

Orter blinks once, as he regains his composure. He sighs before looking to the side at the moment before looking back at you.

"Uhm, well, you really don't have to say anything if... you're not ready." You let out a chuckle. "Even though I don't know anything about what you uhh, want to talk about.." A light flush blooming at the tip of your ears and across your cheeks. A rare sight even for the Orter Madl himself.

Orter looks at you closely one last time, as he felt that exact swirling emotion in his chest as he takes in your abashed expression.

He scoffs to himself, earning a confused look from you. Before sighing tiredly. He resigned to his fate that Ryoh and Kaldo put him in.

And maybe, Orter has finally come to terms that he's indeed a liar.

"...Do you have anything else that you need to accomplish in the library?" Orter walks ahead of you swiftly taking the books in your hands as he looked at them interestingly.

Your mouth gapes in both confusion and surprise. Orter turned back to you and raised a brow while holding the books. "Well? I'd rather do something productive even if two... nosy idiots decided to clear my schedule."

Orter had the satisfaction to hear your laugh. "Careful, I might get too used to hearing your composure break. Who knew the all powerful Sand Cane had a foul mouth."

The visionary tilts his head, "Hm? I wasn't the one who turned to a blushing mess at a mere eye contact." He quickly turned away but you managed to catch a small smirk on his lips.

The unexpected teasing made you scoff, this time another light blush spread your cheeks in embarrassment. "I—! That was...!"

Orter feigned ignorance as he levitated a few books to organize them to their correct spot. Still, a light smug expression grew as he watched you from his peripheral vision try to defend yourself.

He took a quick step to the side to avoid the incoming jab to his arm. You glared at him unamused before waving your wand and levitating more books, grinning in triumph as one of them managed to hit him in the head lightly.

Orter stumbled slightly as he grunted at the thud of a book against the back of his head. He glared unamusingly, "That's no way to treat a Visionary."

You shrug, "Yeah well, maybe you should be quicker on your feet."

"I am though."

"Didn't seem like it."

Its been a while since you've engaged in friendly banter with Orter. It reminded you when you two would take quick jabs at each other back in Easton.

Orter stared at you, thinking deeply whether or not if he should go along with what his mind thought of.

"Well? Did that book hit you too hard or what?"

You started to shift in place at Orter's gaze. Not knowing if you should be worried or not if you actually hurt him.

Always one to act without thinking, you lift your hand up towards his head. Hesitating slightly at the way Orter's expression slightly shifted in surprise, before resolving yourself lightly touch his brown locks while feeling around the back of his head where the book hit him.

"Did.. did that actually hurt?"

Orter who finally processed everything, let out an amused hum. He grasps your wrist gently before lowering it back to your side. His eyes, once again, examining your worried gaze.

He really can't believe it.

You thought you managed to hurt him?

Orter let out a light huff.

How cute.

"For someone who's duty is to organize schedules and meet with different kinds of people," Orter finds himself facing his body to you. He grabbed a book on a nearby shelf and raised it in the air, gently hitting your head with the spine of the book. "You still have that quick temper and sharp tongue of yours from way back." He says, and he can't help but let out a more softer tone as he meets your eyes.

Orter sighs (for what it seemed the hundredth time) and places the book back in its proper place. Satisfied at the offended reaction he managed to get from you.

"You-! I was worried and-!"

He watched as you go on and on rambling about how you were genuinely worried. About how he was an annoyance from back then until now.

He sighed, how troublesome.

Orter pushed his glasses up as he faced you. "Really, how irritating." He sighs, "Out of everyone, I had to fall for you."

You paused. Your pointer finger that was in the air that was near jabbing his chest faltered.

Once again, Orter had the satisfaction to see you caught off guard.

"What?" Your heartbeat felt like it was pounding out of your ribcage. If you could hear it, what are the chances Orter couldn't.

Both of you stared at each other, heartbeats beating as one. While silence filled the room, the minds of the two were filled with different thoughts and the sounds of their heartbeats.

Finally, Orter spoke.

"I said," he leaned in closer, bending slightly forwards so his face meets yours directly upfront.

You could see the hint of amusement and affection in his eyes.

"Do you have anything else that you need to accomplish in the library?" Orter questioned.

He smiled in satisfaction at the frozen state you are in before heading off to walk with books in hand.

If Orter had to endure weeks of stress because he was forced to confess, well, you can't blame him for wanting you to experience the same.

He did confess after all. So sue him if Orter wanted a bit of fun messing with you.

He dodges another book thrown at him, a ghost of a smile hidden from the back of his head. Yet, if only you weren't so distracted that you could see the red tints on his ears.

Don't worry though, Orter will do this seriously. He doesn't intend to mess with you for that long.

Not until Ryoh and Kaldo get what they deserve.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

well... I didn't expect this to be THIS long.. why is this so long oml im so sorry aksdlajfklashglshdf hope you enjoyed though :"D this is not proofread

[stupidlittlespirit]

Rating: SFW (later chapters will be NSFW) Type: Long form, multi-chapter, Stanford Pines x Reader Tags: Mutual pining, no pronouns used, teasing, a special appearance from Stan, mentions of the kids, housekeeper!Reader, tw: my horrible jokes. Word count: 5,729 My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3! Ch.2 here

In which a simple expedition with Ford goes increasingly sideways and you learn more than enough about thermodynamics to last you a lifetime.

A/N: This has been quite an undertaking to produce. I created this fic as somewhat of a universe in which base a number of my post-portal!Ford one-shots etc in, and that meant I had to lay a lot of groundwork in it. I wanted to have a setting where I didn't need to keep giving background on what the Reader's role is and how/why they feel a certain way in every fic, and to also offer a kind of timeline that could be explored through future works. Because of that, in this fic there will be vague allusions to some small events happening to set us up for the current day and if people are interested in reading more about those events in full detail then I'd really love to explore them properly with you guys.

Just as an aside - Reader will mention they don't have a father in a throwaway line. It can be taken as just a joke or as literal. Up to you.

Anyway, most of this fic is already completed and I'll be posting a new chapter every couple of days or so. You can wait to read it all in one go or enjoy it in chapters. There will be roughly 5 in total. Enjoy!

Sometimes, in life, things align so perfectly that a person can't stop themselves from considering the possibility of cosmic interference.

Deities. The universe. Some other unseen, all powerful entity of murky origin. All of their existences seem far more plausible when events in one's life fall effortlessly into place and line up to give them the exact thing they've always wanted.

Today is one of those days.

You're busy chopping onions when the planets orient themselves for you.

The broad kitchen knife in your hand knocks rhythmically against the oak board underneath it with every slice you make and the little ribbons of milk-white flesh stack neatly between blade and vegetable, but your attention is, quite irresponsibly, elsewhere.

You really ought to be keeping track of your fingers but you're far too preoccupied with gazing out of the bay window in front of you to really care all that much. The thing is huge; its frame is rimmed with rich mahogany and it has one broad, square pane sitting in the centre, beset by two more, slimmer, rectangular pieces. It drinks in the waning daylight outside and on sunnier evenings, the pretty little stained panels that skirt the tops of each one glow a rich blue, showing off the depictions of constellations inside, like someone has captured part of the night sky and trapped it within the glass for their own private amusement.

Today, the clouds block the sun and the cerulean glass is dull, but you don’t mind too much. You’re not making use of the window to admire the art, lovely as it may be. You’re far more focused on what’s taking place on the lawn, beyond the bounds of the warm interior of the house.

Out on the well-kept grass, two figures are vigorously working out. Well, one is. The other looks like he’d rather keel over and die than spend another second out there, but he’s doing his best all the same and that’s what matters, you suppose.

Steam rises from Ford’s figure as he pauses in his work to help his nephew grip a mid-sized dumbbell correctly. It curls off and around his body like smoke, rising from its sweaty source and wafting into the unseasonably cool air. His cheeks are pink, likely both from exertion and the chill in the weather, and the colour blooms all the way across his face, stretching far enough to even tickle the tips of his ears.

He looks gorgeous.

Dressed in all-black, he’s wearing a short sleeve t-shirt and sweats, paired with dirty blue trainers. Where the skin of his throat and arms should be exposed, however, they’re instead wrapped up tight in what you presume to be some kind of fancy thermal shirt. You’ve never seen him wear anything that shows off his skin, yet somehow the way it clings to the curves of his biceps and forearms is even more revealing than seeing them bare.

Granted, this isn't the first time you've spied on one of his workout sessions like this (in almost exactly the same way), but every time he shows up, it feels like you've been blessed by the Heavens.

Ford, for what it’s worth, hasn’t noticed anything untoward. Not as far as you’re aware, anyway. He’s usually too lost in whatever he’s doing to pay you much mind and if he does catch your presence in the window, you’re always quick to make yourself look busy.

Ford works out four times a week, like clockwork, on the front lawn of the house he shares with his brother. He doesn't always have his nephew with him (Dipper clearly only ever wants to do his best for his great-uncle, however exercise is hardly the kid's forte and you can't say you blame him), which means that oftentimes you get the absolute pleasure of observing a clueless Ford lift weights and stretch his quads for sixty minutes whilst you break from your other chores to prepare them all dinner.

You've been working for the Pines’ for the better part of a year now and getting hired had been a complete accident:

Upon moving to Gravity Falls eighteen months ago and landing the first job you had come across in the local paper (an underpaid, exhausting waitressing gig at the local diner) you’d run into the kids one afternoon on a rare day off.

Mabel had almost smashed your ankle to bits after she and her brother had lost control of their overstuffed trolley and once they had finished their litany of apologies, you’d taken note of the cart’s contents: primarily filled with sugar riddled snacks and items with so little nutritional value that you’d been astounded they’d been legal to sell, neither one of the kids appeared to know how they were going to lug all their so-called food home or what they were going to make for dinner.

Without much else to do, you’d volunteered to lend a hand. They had explained their task: “Grunkle Stan says his back hurts too much to waste time in the store these days and he promised that if we helped, he’d make Grunkle Ford teach us how to drive so we can do it even faster!” Mabel had enthusiastically informed you, eyes bright and metaphorical tail bushy, and despite your confusion over the concept of a ‘Grunkle’, the idea of two apparently-just-turned fourteen year olds at the wheel had been less than thrilling.

Some gentle sweet talking had convinced them to swap out some of their items for things a little more suitable and you’d carried their bags back on a short walk to the house where you’d met the infamous Stan lounging on its porch, his feet up on some empty crates.

At Mabel’s excited introduction of you and her retelling of your recipe ideas, Stan had given you a once over before he’d asked how you felt about replacing the kids as dinner gofer. As it turned out, sending two hyperactive children out to get groceries every week had apparently (shockingly) not been working out too well for the older brothers, and one offer of help had turned into several paid offers.

After only a few short weeks of assisting them, you’d been offered a full time position as housekeeper. The decision to take them up on it had been easy; waitressing barely covered the bills for your decrepit little cabin on the outskirts of town and spending hours every day walking the same five metre route to and from the kitchen six days a week was monotonous enough that you’d been considering moving on anyway.

You’d jumped at the chance.

Technically, your job here is to help with the household tasks that Stan is too lazy to do and that Ford is too busy researching or gallivanting around in the forest to take on, but more often than not, you’re stuck doing whatever little thing Stan thinks up so that he can, as he puts it: ‘enjoy his retirement, sweetheart’. The work extends to any little chore they might need help with, and when the kids head home for summer and Ford and Stan set sail for a few months again, it falls to you to keep the place standing until they return.

Hence why you’re slaving away in their roomy kitchen this evening, gazing out at Ford like you’re some kind of yearning protagonist in a classic romance novel and turning over several thoughts in your mind that you’re sure would get you fired if you revealed them in detail to anyone else. You exhale softly as you watch him show Dipper how to correctly pull off a bicep curl, his arm flexing beneath his shirt.

Behind you, at the dinner table, Stan pauses where he's rustling through his daily newspaper at a leisurely pace and his chair creaks as he shifts in it. “Keep sighing like that and you’ll fog the windows up before he’s finished.”

You start, having completely forgotten his presence, and narrowly you swerve the kitchen knife to avoid chopping off the tip of your index finger. “Jesus, Stan!” you huff. “I almost cut my hand off! They should put a bell on you.”

Stan laughs under his breath. “Oh, they’ve tried, trust me,” he mutters darkly. “Besides, that’s what you get for not paying attention.”

“I am paying attention,” you lie. “I was just…. Thinking.”

“About what?” Stan asks, in a way that suggests he already knows. He probably does.

Stan is the only other person besides yourself who’s aware of your affection for Ford.

The crush had started small, blossoming slowly over time into something more significant, and Stan had worked it out before you’d even caught it yourself.

For all his faults, the guy is as perceptive as they come and admittedly, he’s a lot of fun in his own right. He’s cantankerous and rough around the edges, and yet he’s got a heart of gold that he hides deep underneath his gaudy chains and string vests. At first, he’d been grumpy and standoffish about your presence, despite being the one to hire you in the first place, but as time has gone by and you’ve proven yourself to be competent at both the work and at giving as good you get, he’s dropped his guard and dragged you into his jokes and games.

Although he’s less than thrilled about your private sentiments towards his brother, he's charming in his own special way and he only ever uses it to rag on you when he’s feeling mean. To the best of your knowledge, he hasn’t said a word to anyone else about it. Stan is an ass, but he’s not cruel.

And while you’re not going to divulge your most intimate thoughts to him, you’ll always rise to a little back and forth with him. He seems to enjoy having a verbal sparring partner.

“How old did you say your brother was again?” You ask with feigned innocence, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“What?” Stan grunts, folding the top of his paper down enough to glower at you over it.

“I said, remind me how old your brother is again,” you repeat, turning your attention back to watching Ford lean down to stretch his hamstrings again. It looks like he’s cooling down for the day now which means he’ll be doing static stretches for the next ten minutes, and every time he does so you’re treated to a wonderful view of his ass.

“Same age as me,” Stan says, and at your silence he tacks on: “We’re twins,” like you’re an idiot.

“So….?”

“He’s sixty-two, genius.”

“Huh,” you mutter quietly. “Interesting….”

It's hard to remember when Ford is so agile and active, and for all your interest in him, you've never actually asked his age. Sixty-two is perfectly doable though, in every conceivable sense of the word…..

Stan rustles his paper again. “If you’re thinkin’ about what I think you’re thinkin’ about, and I know you are, don’t even think about it.”

You snort. He has such a way with words.

"I told you last time, stay away from him. He's...." Stan pauses, as though he intends to say something else but thinks better of it. "He's old enough to be your father."

“I don’t have a father,” you say absentmindedly.

It’s Stan’s turn to snort now. “Y’know, that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

You tear your gaze away from Ford’s routine to flip Stan the bird, sticking your tongue out for good measure before you reach for the glass mixing bowl to your right. Now that your evening matinee is ending, you really ought to get a move on with dinner.

“Anyway, I didn’t hire you to gawp at my brother like he’s a piece of meat on the discount shelf,” Stan grouches. “You’re s’posed to be cooking.”

“I'm not gawping, I just happen to be facing the same way that he's doing all his stuff in,” you say defensively, before adding in a muttered: “Besides, he definitely wouldn’t be on the discount shelf.”

“Uh huh,” Stan says, clearly not believing a word.

Rather than defend your actions, you focus on your work: Tonight's dinner is wild mushroom pie. You've only made it once before but it's nice and filling, and you're supposed to be helping everyone eat better. Bad diets run in the family apparently (although where Ford is concerned, he just as often skips meals altogether some days) and so far, they've all been amenable to trying something new. The kids had been reluctant to test out vegetables at first but after a few valiant efforts to make them as palatable as possible they'd come round.

A lot of the work is already done; a pot of stock is simmering away on the hob, the onions from earlier are ready to be tossed into the slowly-warming frying pan and a red, ceramic pie dish is neatly lined with pastry and ready to go whenever you need it. For now, the next task is to prepare the star ingredient: Wild mushrooms.

You’ll be the first to admit, quite happily, that you're not the most outdoorsy of people and you're going to cheat a little bit on the ‘wild’ requirements. You'd picked up a packet of the things last weekend at the supermarket with the intention of doing one thing or another with them, and it does say on the label that they're wild, so you'll let yourself off on that one. Although, knowing Gravity Falls you're really hoping that ‘wild’ isn't a play on words and they turn out to be some kind of feral man-eating fungi. You're not in the mood to be hunted down by a hungry creature today.

Leaving your pots and pans to simmer, you check in the pantry for the little box only to come up empty handed. There's no sign of it anywhere in there, not even when you rummage around right at the back, and you call out to Stan in confusion: “Have you seen the mushrooms I brought back last week?”

“The ones in the brown container?” Stan asks.

“Yeah….”

“Mabel fed ‘em to Waddles last night,” he says, and when you stick your head around the pantry door to stare at him in disbelief, he shrugs without looking up. “What was I supposed to do, tell her no?”

You know what he means; She’s upstairs right now giving the damn pig a manicure makeover with your old (and apparently animal safe) nail polishes because you hadn’t had it in you to deny her them when she’d been upset about her own limited supplies.

It’s extraordinarily hard to refuse Mabel anything and you can appreciate the difficulty, but still.

“Stan, I told you what I was planning to cook tonight!” You groan, kicking the pantry door shut. “How am I supposed to make a mushroom pie with no mushrooms?”

You can’t exactly nip to the store today either. Every single shop in town is shut. The news this morning had warned of a major storm blowing in and informed everyone that they best stay at home lest they keep an inflatable raft in their back pocket, and no one sells those outdated things anymore. Too many accidental indoor deployments, apparently.

According to Ford, this place is susceptible to irrational weather spells and the increasingly aggressive changes in pressure and temperature that have spawned with global warming have only made them more volatile. Last summer there had been a spate of hailstorms that had puked up football-sized pieces of ice and smashed the windscreen of your car to pieces. You’re still sore about that one….

“What am I supposed to do?” You lament, sparing a miserable glance at the half-done recipe on the stove.

From behind you, a deep voice makes you jump: “Is something wrong?”

You almost leap out of your skin, swivelling on the spot to find the source hovering in the doorway of the kitchen.

Both brothers have the ability to be supernaturally quiet when they want to be. While Stan uses his subtlety less often, Ford skulks around like a well practised alley cat a lot of the time and he frequently scares the shit out of you. He must have finished his routine and crept back inside unannounced.

He gives you an apologetic smile, holding one hand up to ease your fear. “Apologies,” he laughs under his breath. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Ford is still dressed in his workout clothes, his thick, wavy hair roguishly dishevelled and slightly damp at the temples, and he looks just as lovely up close as he had done from the window. Perhaps even lovelier.

You swallow thickly, your brain short circuiting at the sight of him. “Uh, yes?” You say, though it's more of a question than an answer.

Ford looks at you expectantly, evidently waiting for you to expand on your problem, and Stan smirks at your lack of grace.

You shake your head minutely, desperately pulling yourself together and hoping he'll assume your speechless state is just because he's made you jump and not because your heart is climbing up your throat.

“I'm making pie,” you say, jerking your thumb over at the pots. “And someone,” You pause to fix Stan with an annoyed look and he rolls his eyes. “Let Mabel feed them all to Waddles, and…. I don’t have a back up plan.”

You feel a little stupid admitting it aloud.

Ford hums thoughtfully, heavy brows creasing together as he leans against the doorframe.

“That's quite the conundrum….” He says, frowning at the flagstone tiles under your feet.

His dark eyes flicker back and forth quickly, and you can tell he's trying to think up a solution.

After a long pause, he snaps his fingers and speaks up again: “You know, I did stumble across a nice little patch of mushrooms not far from here about a month ago. We could take a walk up there and grab some, if you'd like?”

“In the forest?” You ask, brows raised.

“Where else?” Ford grins, and you feel your stomach fill with butterflies. “They're edible, of course, I've tested them myself.”

“Are you telling me you ate random mushrooms you found on the ground, Doctor Pines?” You ask, mildly appalled. “They could have killed you.”

Ford waves a hand dismissively. “Unlikely. My travels have given me something of an iron stomach. It takes more than a Death Cap to put me down these days.”

At the mention of ‘travels’, you perk up a bit.

Ford's history is more than a little murky to you. In the time you’ve been working for the family, you’ve only heard second-hand snippets or passing mentions of his alleged escapades. The kids have let slip to you several times about his adventures and, despite initially assuming they'd been making things up for fun, the stories had eventually begun to seem a little too consistent to simply be make-believe.

One evening, when the kids had been safely tucked up in bed and Ford had been locked away in his study, you’d brought the subject up to Stan over a nightcap on the porch.

Stan had sighed, lit a cigar, and sworn you to secrecy before giving you a rough outline of his brother’s complex background: his outstandingly impressive academic history, their less-than-ideal family rift and some kind of accident that had sent Ford careening into, quite literally, another dimension. Stan hadn’t gone into excessive detail, and you hadn’t pushed despite desperately wanting to, but by his own admission he had felt that if you were to be working around them then you’d be better off at least having some idea of their strange history.

And strange it is.

You yourself have only lived in Gravity Falls for the better part of eighteen months and becoming accustomed to the weirdness of this place has been unusually easy. Residents take the bizarre in such casual stride that you’re more likely to stick out should you make a fuss about it all and after a while, seeing the odd oddity around had quickly become the norm.

At Stan’s vague reveal of his brother’s disappearance and, as everyone else calls them, his travels, the notion had been surprisingly easy to fathom in the context of such an already weird place. Utterly incredible, yet somehow very in line with this town.

Ford has never brought it up to you himself beyond a rare, fleeting mention, but you’re aware that he’s apparently spent significant time in places that other people might only dream of.

You’re sure he knows of your vague awareness but you know better than to poke around in other people’s sore wounds without permission.

Stan had warned that neither he nor his brother were predisposed to telling everyone and anyone about his time away and you can’t really blame them. From what you know (and can imagine), it can’t have been all fun and games.

“I think he’s got, like, PTSD or somethin’,” Stan had said that night, sounding genuinely heartbroken about it. “So don’t go sniffing around him, alright? He’s…. It’s difficult. Everyone’s been through a lot. Maybe we’ll tell you about it properly one day.”

You understand, of course. Whatever has gone on in their lives is clearly significant and you’re still an outsider. A year is no time at all in the grand scheme of things and they’re a tightly-knit, protective family. They’ve no reason to fill you in on their traumatic family history just because you help around the house and you’ve no right to know it, but you’re willing to earn their trust and if the stories come with it, then so be it.

Although slow to start, things have been going well so far and you’re closer than ever with them, so every titbit Ford drops has you on tenterhooks immediately.

“Besides,” Ford says, still on the subject of his thrilling mushroom discoveries, “their lack of toxicity isn’t even the most exciting part!” He adjusts his glasses and you can tell he's gearing up into scientist-mode.

Behind you, Stan sighs, long-suffering.

“I thought they tasted significantly more intense than a regular mushroom, so once I’d confirmed that they were safe for general human consumption, I asked Dipper to try them. He reported them to be, in his words, 'beefy'. Now, Umami is the most commonly associated flavour with regard to mushrooms because of naturally occurring glutamate, but monosodium glutamate, which would deepen the flavour even more and fall in line with mine and Dipper's taste tests, isn't, and I doubt the gnomes are out there spraying crops with MSG. They haven't the tools for that, I've checked. Anyway, I asked Mabel to try them and she said they tasted, quote, ‘like chocolate stirred by puppies and angels’,”

Here, Ford pauses to laugh fondly before he goes on:

“Which is most certainly not a common flavour of mushroom. So my hypothesis is that they change taste based on whoever touches them and I've been meaning to test them again, seeing as we ate the first batch before I could record the findings properly. We'd be killing two birds with one stone, really.”

You have to fight back a smile. The way he lights up when he talks about his stupid fucking mushrooms is beyond cute and you always enjoy watching him get passionate about his projects, especially when he veers off course on silly tangents that he deems relevant.

But Ford has never asked you to accompany him before which makes this event all the more alluring. It's a privilege to be invited along and as much as you want to jump at the chance, you do have one worry:

“What about the storm?”

At the table, Stan pushes his chair back with a screech and stands up. “Exactly. TV said it's gonna be a bad one and I'm not paying for another newspaper ad if you kill our housekeeper just because you wanna show off again.”

Ford sputters. “I'm not showing off, Stanley! This is about science!”

It should be worrying that his main concern is his pride over your potential death-by-negligence, but the way the top of his ears turn red at his brother's accusation overrules your concern. He's disgustingly adorable when he gets embarrassed.

Dipper chooses that exact moment to trot past his great uncle's side and into the kitchen, giving you a bright, exhausted smile. He’s shed his workout gear for a t-shirt and a fresh pair of sweats, and his hair is slightly damp. “Dinner smells good,” he yawns. “I'm starving. I got ten whole reps in today, right, Grunkle Ford?” He looks especially proud about it.

Ford shucks off his ire to give his nephew a warm smile. “That you did, my boy. Up two compared to last week, by my calculations. You're going to be giving me a run for my money before the summer is over.”

Dipper rubs the back of his neck, bashful, but the way he's beaming betrays his excitement. “I wouldn't go that far….”

“Nice work, dude,” you grin, offering a hand out for a high five.

He takes the bait and slaps your palm with his before fetching himself a soda. “So, how long ‘til dinner?”

You wince inwardly. He'll be hungry enough to eat a horse by now and you can't let him subsist on snacks after all the exercise he's done today. It won't help him build the muscle you know he so desperately wants if all he eats are chips, dips and sodas.

“You better stock up on snacks tonight, kid,” Stan chuckles as he reaches for his own bag of chips that he already has open the table top. “Somebody forgot to get ingredients.”

You shoot Stan a venomous look and at Dipper's disappointed little ‘wait, what?’, you turn back to Ford. Storm be damned, the idea of letting down a child makes you feel worse than getting stuck in a downpour ever could, and you know you'll regret it but what other choice do you have? You've done stupider things for less.

“You're sure the patch isn't far from here?” You ask Ford, giving in with a sigh. “And we'll beat the storm?”

Ford beams at your change of heart, and that, combined with the knowledge of a well-fed charge, instantly makes your agreement worth it. His moods vary like the wind sometimes and you’re always eager to see him happy because you know that it means he’ll spend more time talking to you.

“We'll be in and out in under an hour, you have my word,” he assures you. “I know that place like the back of my hand.”

You sigh again. “Fine. I'll go with you to get the mushrooms.”

Dipper slips back out of the kitchen. Usually, you're sure he'd inquire about your task and ask to come along, but it seems he really is thoroughly exhausted from his gym session and he takes an early leave. Poor kid.

Ford nods, pleased. “Give me a moment to shower and change. I'll put together some supplies and then we can leave.”

“Sure,” you smile. “And thank you, Doctor Pines. I appreciate the help.”

Ford grins, giving you a nod, and then he’s following his nephew out of the kitchen, sweeping down the hallway to sort out his things.

You make use of the spare time to tidy up a little and lower the gas on the stock as low as it will go, then take the pan off the heat. If Ford means what he says about getting in and out quickly, you might have a chance at saving the rest of the prep and it would be a shame to have to start everything over again.

You clean up your workstation and make sure everything is safely put aside before taking a seat at the table to wait.

It's then that you realise Stan is watching you closely. He’s smirking, and it always makes you a little nervous when he wears that mischievous look.

“What?” You ask him hesitantly.

“You can just call him Ford, y’know,” Stan says, slumping back in his chair and looking amused. “Pretty sure he wouldn’t mind….”

You roll your eyes, shrugging one shoulder. “Not this again. I told you before, he's never asked me to call him anything else. I did the same for you when I first started, didn't I?”

“Yeah, and I told you to stop because you made me sound like my old man,” Stan gripes through a mouthful of potato chips.

“Exactly, and that's your prerogative,” you say, a little defensively.

You're telling the truth; Ford hasn’t ever asked you to call him something less formal, even if you might like to try the taste of something more intimate on your tongue. “Ford has earned his title, I’m not going to take it away from him.”

Stan snorts. “Oh, I bet he loves that.”

“What?”

“You, stroking his ego and running around after him like a lost puppy,” Stan says, amused.

“First of all, I run around for everyone in this house like a lost puppy, it's literally my job,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Secondly, I’m not stroking his ego. The guy’s smart and he’s got an armful for doctorates. I’m just…. Acknowledging that.”

“Uh huh,” Stan says, sceptical.

“What now?” You huff.

“Nothing.”

“Stan,” you say sternly. “Don’t play coy, it doesn’t suit you.”

“Oh come on,” he says, trying and failing to keep the smirk off of his face. “Could you be any more obvious? You're worse than Dipper was when he came back after all that time, hanging off his every word and getting all googly-eyed over him like the sun shines out of his ass.”

“I don’t-“

“‘Yes Doctor Pines, no Doctor Pines’,” Stan simpers, putting on a poor imitation of your voice. “Take me out to the woods and experiment on me, Doctor Pines!’”

You can feel your face heat up. “You're such an asshole sometimes, you know that? And he isn’t experimenting on me, he asked me to help hi-”

“Show me your magic mushroo -“

Someone clears their throat in the kitchen doorway and both you and Stan whip your heads around to follow the source of the noise. Much to your horror, Ford is waiting for you, clad in jeans and a trademark red turtleneck along with a pair of filthy hiking boots. There's a sizable backpack slung over one of his broad shoulders and he doesn’t look very amused at his brother's antics.

“Are you done?” He asks, levelling Stan with a searing look.

Stan opens his mouth, still grinning, and Ford cuts him off instantly. “Actually forget that, I know you’re not,” he says. “You never are.”

Then he turns his attention to you.

You’re trying very hard not to melt into a humiliated puddle on the floor and under his gaze you feel yourself slip just a little further down into your seat.

His gaze softens somewhat, almost sympathetic, and he gestures vaguely towards the front door down the hall. “If you're not too busy being harassed, I'm ready to set off,” he says.

You really rather wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole right now, but alas, you do need those stupid mushrooms…..

“Sure,” you say faintly, scrambling up from your seat.

Ford heads off towards the foyer and you try to compose yourself with a deep breath before you follow him, glancing back to stick your tongue out at Stan again.

Stanley laughs at your awkwardness and as you hurriedly trot towards the hall, he pretends to fan himself dramatically.

“Three bags full, Doctor Pines,” Stan grins, and then you're shutting the kitchen door on him before you put your job on the line with the insult you're lining up in your head.

Stan thinks he's endlessly funny when it comes to winding you up over Ford and if you show how much he gets under your skin with it, he'll only get worse. You think he might be doing it in the hopes of putting you off his brother, but he’ll need to try a lot harder than that.

Instead of encouraging him, you follow in Ford's footsteps down the short, oak panelled hallway until you reach the front door.

Ford has already donned his reliable tan trench coat, patiently waiting for you to pull your own jacket and boots on. So much of the town is woven between the forest that you practically live in hiking shoes these days and it doesn't take you long to be readily dressed and warm.

Once you’re sorted, Ford swings the heavy oak front door open. A well-timed gust of cool wind blusters in as he does so, ruffling your clothes and hair, and instantly you realise the weather is much more intimidating when face to face with it.

It's incredibly dull out here. In the short time that Ford and Dipper have ended their routine and you've packed your things up, the sky has gotten impossibly darker. The winds must have herded more clouds overhead than you’d realised and the light has faded so much that you'd be forgiven for assuming it to be almost night time. When you check your watch, however, it still reads barely 6PM.

Ford must catch the concern on your face because he picks up on your worry straight away. “It's just overcast,” he reassures you. “I’ve seen plenty of storms like this in the time I’ve lived here. We'll have enough time to make it there and back before it gets too dark, and I brought torches as a precaution.”

That makes you feel a little better, at least. You know he’s an experienced outdoorsman and he’d probably be able to find his way around here blindfolded and hogtied. If you have to go out in risky weather with anyone, Ford is your best bet.

With the stride of a uniquely confident man, Ford steps out into the evening with a sharp breath inward and a contented sigh, taking in the awaiting scent of petrichor. He holds the door open for you with one hand and gestures for you to follow with the other, offering you a rakish grin.

“Shall we?”

And when he smiles at you like that, what choice do you have?

A/N: Yay! You made it to the end!

So firstly, I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to post another work! These take a bit of time for me to write because I tend to write the entire work in one go from start to finish before I begin posting and I've also been unwell/busy, so it took a backseat for a bit but here we are!

Secondly, as I posted at the start, this is going to be a small series and will start as a decently sized multi-chapter fic. There will be smut and I already have most of it written. Your patience will be rewarded!

Please consider supporting me on ao3 also :)

[theinsanefoxwriter]

Gregory Deserves Better...

I never make actual posts to be honest, but I feel the need to right now, because I’m just so…tired of this. My favorite character in the newer FNAF era has been mistreated by both fans and the creators. So I’m making this in light of the new book coming that, at least from the description we have right now, sounds like it’s just Security Breach, except Gregory is replaced by Cassie.

I’ve said many times elsewhere how I suspected they wanted to boot Gregory for Cassie, and...I had no idea how right I actually was. It angers me, but…mostly, I’m just hurt and very disappointed, because it sucks to see a character I loved get so disrespected then practically replaced. The ending of Ruin felt like a slap in the face, and the sting is only getting worse. (And very quickly, in case anybody takes this from what I'm saying, no I don't hate Cassie. I just don't want her to completely replace Gregory.) I’m not here to talk about that situation, though.

If anyone for some reason leaves a comment arguing the points I make, I’m just going to ignore or even delete it. I’m not here to discuss or argue with people who disagree with me and/or think Gregory is a bad character. I just want to express an opinion that I don’t think is said nearly enough. And that opinion is the fact Gregory is severely misunderstood and mistreated by both the fandom and canon itself. I’m not going to get into everything, but enough that you can hopefully understand the point I’m trying to make.

Most of the Gregory hate at the beginning was due to him destroying the animatronics and then lying about it to Freddy. I don’t see how this makes him hateable or a bad person. “Why’d he have to go out of his way to destroy them?” “He’s a bad person for lying to Freddy and giving him the upgrades of his friends.” “The Glamrocks were so awesome. Why did Gregory have to do that?” What kid in danger would want to help or be nice to the scary robots trying to kill them? Or against the better argument, why would he have sympathy for them in a moment of intense danger? When they were actively trying to kill him? He did what he thought he needed to survive, which was destroying them and using the good parts they had to give him a better chance against them. If they had been nice, he would have liked them, but they weren’t. They were after him. And choosing to do that plus being able to do that doesn’t make him a bad person, and it doesn’t mean he's uncaring towards others or that he’s heartless. What I think people don't take into account is that Gregory did befriend an animatronic, the one who wasn't attacking him. He went to great lengths to help Freddy, and genuinely cared for him; that bear needed to be rescued on more than one occasion lol, and Gregory clearly wasn't just doing it because Freddy gives him a hiding place.

And in regard to the lying, I think Gregory hid that he was getting the upgrades from Freddy's friends, because he didn't want to make Freddy mad or hurt his feelings. That does sound like something a kid would do, and he is a kid. He's not gonna be perfect in this situation, and he doesn't even do anything that bad. I don't think Gregory gets enough credit. Everybody just sees a mouthy kid destroying animatronics they like (despite the fact they're hunting him, and the virus has made them basically mindless. Why wouldn’t he?), and they hate on him for it and other rather stupid reasons. Gregory is more than the “annoying” kid who destroyed your favorite animatronics. He’s a clearly guarded and defensive child who got stuck in a bad and terrifying situation, but…in the end, stayed anyway to prevent this and other bad things from happening to anyone else. Gregory cares. Yes, even if he destroyed some animatronics. The creators calling him the “darkness of the Pizzaplex” or whatever they said doesn’t make sense. On the surface, he might look like some child who destroyed Freddy’s friends, but look any deeper at all, and that’s not the case. There’s so much potential for his character, and I’m upset that he isn’t being given the spotlight or time to further explore his potential properly, especially since Security Breach ended up being a bit lacking in a lot of areas: perhaps another factor in why he’s so misunderstood.

In the end, I’m simply tired of seeing a character that I connected with treated like he was just a writing mistake that now needs to be replaced by a “better” character. I’m not saying his writing was perfect, but he deserves way better than this. I feel very passionate about the characters I like, which is why this has affected me so much, and I hope at least a few people see this.

Anything I missed I’m going to touch on briefly here:

GGY? A cool concept, actually, that I wish was utilized in the games. And Gregory is clearly possessed there, similar to Vanessa, so him being Patient 46 and causing people’s deaths can’t actually be held against him.

Dropping the elevator on Cassie? I firmly believe that was not him, and very clearly the Mimic’s doing. There’s solid evidence behind it, but I’m not going to get into it because it’s exhausting. Just know that no one can convince me otherwise. And even if the writers wanted Gregory to do that, it’s out of character and clearly an act of character assassination.

Thanks for taking the time to read this. Now go hug a misunderstood gremlin!

[atinystraynstay]

Double Take - Lee Chan

Synopsis: Dino was convinced dating was just swiping on a dating app, going out for a diner, and maybe getting further than that before being ghosted. It was just the perils of dating as a young adult. There was just something different about you though.

Pairing: Non-idol!Lee Chan x fem. reader

Genre: "her first everything" girl meets the "first nothing" boy

Inspired by @aaniag - thanks for tagging me in this post ♡

First Encounters Mini Series: #1: #2: #3: #4: Wonwoo #5: Jeonghan #6: #7: #8: Dino

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: does contain descriptions of anxiety - please make sure you are taking care of your mind, body, and soul. If you ever need someone to vent to, my DMs are always a safe space 🩷

Dating in your 20s is not as glamorous as they make it seem in the movies. First dates sometimes flourished into second dates but quickly fizzled out. Or it sometimes was someone you were interested in that just turned into a one night stand.

While sure, there times that Dino wished he had a more solid connection with someone. But he was in no rush to settle down and get married.

Going to college helped Dino not only helped him find his passions in life but also found confidence in himself.

Maybe that was one positive to come out of dating apps? It made Dino feel good when he could swipe on someone and it was an instant match. He hated the moments where he would swipe on someone he found attractive, but would be stuck waiting to see if there was a mutual attractive. And sometimes, he would forget about who he swiped on because there would no ping indicating they swiped on him.

He never thought of himself as the most attractive guy. Honestly, he thought was more average than anything else.

But the moment he found himself in the bed of someone, he felt more reassured in himself. The more that people wanted him, attempted to gain his attention, he felt better about who he was as a person. I mean, college is all about self growth anyways, right? Dino's learning just happened beyond the classroom.

"Trying to find another date?" Seungkwan teased. "More like he's trying to find someone to fuck since he's getting lonely at night," Jeonghan added in.

There were times Dino regretted signing a lease with Seungkwan and Jeonghan. This was one of those times. The two of them thought fondly of their younger roommate, so they often lurked over his shoulder.

"Oh! She's cute," Seungkwan commented.

Hearing his friend, his head turned and narrowed his eyes at the culprit. He suddenly moved his phone close to his chest to gain some sort of privacy. But that was a big ask in this house especially with how close the three friends were. Jeonghan, being the menace he is, moved his hand around to move the phone away from Dino's chest which caused Dino to jump.

"Can I never have anything to myself?" he whined. "She's normally not your type, but maybe we could use a change?" "We?!" Dino gasped.

The two guys laughed before they moved away from the younger boy to go elsewhere in the apartment. Now alone, Dino did take a moment to look at your pictures closer. There were a few photos just of you. He found himself smiling at the way your eyes nearly closed when you were smiling wide. You also had a few pictures with friends at different events.

His thumb then pushed upwards on his phone screen, so he could look deeper into your profile. I have to know who she is.

The first thing he noticed was your name, 'Y/n," he murmured under his breath. It rolled off this tongue so eloquently. He also noticed that you were only 2 miles away from him.

Part of him wanted to stop and just swipe. There was always an element of mystery that came to first dates. Dino's favorite part was when he got to ask questions, got to learn about the other person. Yet, there was something urging him to keep going. After all, looking over your profile could give good talking points.

What sold the deal was your bio - "looking to experience something new 👀"

Intrigued, Dino swiped right on your account. And automatically, fire emojis skyrocketed from the bottom of the app and covered the screen. It's a match! was written across the screen as it brought up your profile with the ability to message you now available.

His fingers typed at lightning speed. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face at the presented opportunity to get to know you.

"I've never done this before. Wanna grab dinner tonight?"

You were at home, binging the reunion of Love Is Blind with your roommates. It was a lazy Saturday afternoon which of course required getting snacks from the grocery store, doing face masks, and a bottle of wine. All of your phones were placed on the table to minimize distractions

While all your roommates and you had different schedules, binging reality TV seemed to be the way you were able to come together. Everyone's eyes were watching the confrontation between two of the contestants when suddenly all eyes shifted to the coffee table once someone's phone lit up.

Specifically, your phone.

"Oh my god, guys! Y/n matched with someone on Tinder," one of your roommates called out. "And they messaged her."

And just like that, Love is Blind was forgotten about. Your third roommate reached for the Amazon Fire Stick remote to pause the Netflix show. All eyes then flickered from the coffee table and you. Never before had you been glad for a face mask to cover your face to hide your rouging cheeks, knowing that will only result in further teasing.

"Relax, you hyenas," you called out. It was as if they were holding their breaths until you read the message.

You typed in your password since your Face ID was not able to recognizing your face with the sheet mask on. The extra stop practically caused your roommates to shake with anticipation. You couldn't deny. You shared the same excitement, as you have decided this year, you were intentionally investing more in dating.

It's not like you had chosen before to not date. It was just something that settled on the back burner. You had always hoped to meet someone more organically, like at the coffee shop or on public transportation. Something out of a Hallmark movie. But that's not how reality worked. When you did meet someone, it was always overwhelmingly flirty which made you instantly retreat from the situation.

Yet, you couldn't deny the happiness you saw from your own friends and roommates when it came to their dating life. Oddly, even if it were a bad date, you wanted to feel the rush of getting ready for someone. You knew that in order to date that would require you putting yourself out there and being vulnerable. Your own saving grace was knowing your morales and not falling victim to social pressures.

Even if it meant not matching with many people because you wanted to take things slow, you would be content as you search for your perfect person.

Dino sent you a message

And maybe that was Dino.

There was no denying the smile that curled onto your lips at the name. You found the name adoring, peaking your interest. Your clicked on the message to read it.

"I've never done this before. Wanna grab dinner tonight?"

Your eyes widened which caused your roommates to lean in closer. The two right by your side let out a gasp, as the other two were practically going to pounce on you. However, you were too preoccupied with looking through his profile.

It took everything within you to maintain your composure, even if you wanted to squeal and kick your feet at the potential date. There were a few photos taken when he's been out to dinner. One in particular that caught your eye was him in a black tee shirt with a silver chain around his neck. Hello big arms! He had a softer face with a sharp jawline. Something about him seemed so friendly, making you even more willing to take the leap of faith.

"Come on, y/n," your one roommate begged. "We want to take a peak on tonight's bachelor."

You rolled your eyes before giving in and showed them his profile. One by one, your phone was passed around. Yet, after each person, there was a wide smile which indicated a sign of approval from your roommates. They knew that it took someone special for you to say yes, but it seemed like Dino had unlocked it just by sending a simple message.

"So what's the verdict, y/n? Are you extending a rose to Dino?"

What can you say? You guys really do love reality TV shows.

Without responding, your fingers went to work on the keypad of the app.

"Yeah, that sounds great! What's your favorite type of food? You can pick the restaurant as long as you meet me there at 7pm."

6:55pm

Dino had a routine when it came to first dates. Of course, he would shower first. He then would pick out an outfit that looked good but also one that was comfortable. Sometimes, after sitting for a while, he disliked the way certain jeans felt and he didn't want to be too squirmy in the chair across from his date. But he didn't want to dress too casually that might give the impression he was putting in little effort into this date.

For tonight, he opted for a pair of baggy jeans, a white t-shirt, and a tri-color cardigan. It was approaching that time of year when it might be a bit warm when the sun comes out, but gets a bit chilly still when the sun sets. Plus, he suggested going to a Mexican restaurant in between the two of you, so he knew while it might be a laid back setting, that he still looked presentable.

He had driven to the restaurant, since taking public transportation would take a bit too long especially since the restaurant was not even 20 minutes away. It was still light out too, but he knew when it was dark, he also had the opportunity to drive you home in the event you opted not to drive.

With his wallet and keys in his pockets, he approached the front entrance of the restaurant. It was a bit crowded for a Sunday night, but honestly, Dino didn't mind either way. He was admittedly excited that he was going to go out with you. Before leaving, Jeonghan and Seungkwan hyped him up and warned "she seems like a good girl, don't scare her."

There, indeed, was something different about you. Dino just couldn't put a finger on it, but that also made this date exciting. He's never had this level of interest in someone before.

As he approached, he noticed you were standing up front waiting for him. He couldn't help but smile at the gesture but also pick up his pace, not wanting you to be left waiting for long. Your thumb double-tapped your home screen, showing the time. Your noticeably let out a sigh before picking up your head. With a slight turn of your head, you made direct eye contact with him.

Dino couldn't help but notice the way your shoulders relaxed. Was she nervous? That's adorable. He wouldn't be rude and comment on it. He was just meeting you after all, and he wouldn't be so mean to embarrass you. Talk about a bad first impression.

"Hey y/n," he said as he approached you. "And you must be Dino," you smiled.

Gosh, her voice sounds angelic.

He never knew of someone who's voice matched so well to who they are as a person, but that wasn't the case with you. You were dressed so elegantly. Nothing too outlandish - just a pair of jeans and a rainbow colored sweater that looked light enough to be worn in any type of climate. You looked cute and breathtaking at the same time. A real life angel.

"I'm sorry if I kept you waiting," Dino apologized.

He reached behind you to open the front door, nodding his head for you to step in first. Your cheeks flushed quickly which caused Dino to smile brighter. "Thank you," you said before walking in. Dino let you take a few steps ahead of him before he joined in behind you. He kept a respectful distance, so you didn't feel uncomfortable but enough to indicate to any patron you two were together.

"Hi! I called earlier for dinner for two? The name is under Lee Chan."

The hostess nodded before looking down at the booklet, her finger acting as if it was guided to her name. Once she spotted his name, she grabbed the sharpie and crossed it out. She then proceeded to grab two menus before turning towards the two of you. "If you will follow me."

You glanced behind him with a wider smile this time. "You made reservations?" "Of course! I wanted to play it on the safe side."

It was such a tiny gesture but one that surely made your heart flutter. You never knew of anyone calling this particular restaurant for reservations, let alone anyone make reservations for the two of you. Knowing that Dino had been that thoughtful made you feel special. That had to be a tell-tale sign of the type of person he was. It just reassured you that this indeed was a good decision, even if it was spur of the moment.

You two were led to a booth along the wall. You were able to people watch if you desired, one of your favorite things to do. But it also offered enough privacy for the two of you to really get to know each other.

"M'lady," Dino said jokingly.

And he's funny! You giggled before accepting the menu from him. Being a bit nervous, you did look over the menu online before the date. You weren't trying to put too much weight on this date and all that it could potentially lead to. However, you still wanted things to go well.

"So? I gotta ask, is your name Dino or Chan? Or is there some secret third option?"

Dino couldn't help but laugh at your question. It was a fair question, and he knew that he would have to provide some context eventually. Lowering his menu, he wanted to be able to make eye contact with you. He didn't want to be rude!

"So, my full name is Lee Chan, but my friends call me Dino." "Dino," you said to yourself, smiling. "Why do they call you that?"

He smiled fondly at the memory of how he gained his nickname.

The menu was fully resting on the table, not only because he had made his dinner selection but because ehe was now fully invested in the conversation with you.

On the receiving end, the attention was a bit overwhelming. You were not so accustom to someone you were interested in making such direct eye contact with you. It only intensified the butterflies you felt in your tummy by his conscious choice of body language.

Yet, it wasn't something Dino just knew to be good manners. Plus, after one date when he looked all over the restaurant instead of just focusing on his date, he learned that's one way how you don't secure a second date.

"Well, believe it or not, y/n, I was a shy guy. Especially when I first was starting college? I could barely say hi without feeling nervous. But I guess as I experienced what it means to be in college, put myself out there, I started to gain more and more confidence. Eventually, my friends started to notice and said I was like the T-Rex in Jurassic Park, just bursting into the room and getting everyone's attention with my loud energy."

You nodded gently as you listened to him, smiling. You wanted him to keep talking to you, about himself. It helped take some of the pressure off of yourself, but you also were genuinely interested in Dino.

"Well, it is a very fitting nickname. Cute, I like it." "Cute like me?" Dino winked.

Immediately, your cheeks turned bright red as you tried hiding behind your menu. Dino couldn't help but chuckle more which only made you want to sink further into the booth, to hide. Was it a pitiful laugh or did he find it attractive?

God, what have I gotten myself into?

The waitress was your saving grace. You didn't have to come to some lame excuse or be subject to Dino's line of questioning quite yet. The waitress also coming around to take your order allowed the blood to subside from your cheeks. You wanted to try to be this cool and mysterious, to leave a good first impression. But honestly? You felt like a fish out of water. This was a brand new experience for you, and you were beginning to think you were too over your head.

Were you even ready to date? How does one even know if they are ready or need more time?

Once your orders were placed, Dino and you handed your menus to the waitress before she left you two alone. Here we go.

"So, y/n, tell me about yourself," Dino asked before taking a sip out of his water.

Okay! An easy question! Perfect.

You sat up a bit straighter in the booth, becoming a bit self conscious of your posture. At least from everything you've heard and seen about dates, even the tiniest things can make or break the date.

You told Dino about how you recently graduated college in the winter. Recently, you took the leap to move the city as your job was switching from remote to a hybrid model. You also needed the change of scenery, which has helped you want to put more roots down in the city.

Dino was impressed with your sheer perseverance. It's never easy to say goodbye to what you now and venture into the unknown, but you proved it was possible.

"Wow, that's really incredible. Good for you, y/n. I moved here with two of my best friends, so I cannot not imagine just making such a big move. Do you live alone?" "Oh no, I have like 5 roommates in our three floor apartment. It really helps." "So like a little family?" "Definitely feels like that sometimes," you laughed.

Truly, you held your roommates close to your heart. Not only did things work out for a good living situation, but they were the first friends you made in the city. They helped you through the homesickness you felt by letting you openly talk about life back home, or push for you to cook some of your favorite meals for them to try.

They also were big supporters in your venturing into dating. They offered many tips into how to date safely and allowed you to ask questions without judgement. They also were clearly very excited you took a chance of Dino rather than running in the opposite direction.

"So is that why you're on the dating apps? If you don't mind me asking, do you find yourself ready to date in a new palce?"

Well, he was half-right.

"Yeah, I think I'm ready to finally open myself up in that way. Moving and getting used to my surroundings really took a large chunk of my time." "No, that's completely understand. I've come to learn you need to be satisfied with yourself and other aspects of your life before being vulnerable with someone else because someone can really shake things up." "Well, for better and for worse."

He smiled at your optimism before nodding in agreement.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, when was your last relationship? It sounds like you have some past experience."

Dino couldn't help but chuckle. It wasn't really at the question himself, but the experiences he has had with dating were a bit comical. You frowned a bit, worrying that you asked the same question. He quickly stopped though to offer a gentle smile.

"Sorry, it's not you. Some memories of past dates came flooding in," he explained.

Well, that's more than I have, so you couldn't wait to hear them. Maybe they were just as funny as some are on the sitcoms you liked to rewatch?

Yet, you couldn't help but wonder if your very limited experience would be a deal breaker.

"What about you though? If you don't mind me asking," Dino said, restating the exact words you said to him.

It was meant to be comforting, but it made you all the more nervous. I guess it was the moment of truth.

"If we're being honest, I haven't been in a serious relationship before."

As you spoke, your tone was softer than from how you had previously carried it throughout the conversation. Dino couldn't help but frown and feel his heart chip a bit. Going on dates and then dating someone was always exciting, so he felt empathetic that you hadn't quite experienced that type of emotions yet. And he also felt sad that people had done you wrong.

"People suck," he murmured. "I'm sorry that you've been out with people who didn't take the time to realize how lucky they were for meeting you."

Your eyes widened at his words. You opened your mouth to clarify but you were so thrown off by his words. Luck? He thought it was a good thing meeting me? A complete stranger? You bit the inside of your cheek to try to rid of the creeping blush on your cheeks. This guy was too sweet to you.

"I mean, I felt like I was lucky when I found out you swiped on me," he confessed.

Now it was Dino's turn to blush. Your eyes widened but you couldn't help but smile wider. It was endearing to see him get a bit shy, almost like he was revealing the past version of himself. You were truly the lucky one that someone had just wanted to spend their Sunday evening with you.

"Trust me, I felt the same way. Even more so when you asked me. It was an easy yes."

Dino's ego came soaring back a bit. He knew the hardship of dating in college and trying to form authentic relationships. What he found himself wanting to do now was give you the best that he could offer to you.

"So is that what you meant in your bio when you put that you are looking for something new?"

It was as if in that moment you could hear glass shattering. Reality had come back into full swinging, shattering any sense of hope you had. There was no fighting the truth because it always finds a way to reveal itself. God, I just want to be eaten by the floor.

"Actually, yes and no?"

You sounded unsure of yourself. Yet, not wanting to jump to any conclusions, Dino kept a smile curled onto his lips. The way he sat was relaxed yet he was leaning in slightly, showing you that he was ready to listen to you. It was a silent way of encouraging you to speak, if you wanted to that is. Honestly, Dino just appreciated that he was with someone who seemed genuine rather than someone looking for a free meal or just to sneak off to the bedroom afterwards.

"So yes, this," you said, gesturing between the two of you. "is new to me. I've never gone on a date with a guy I matched from Tinder."

As if Dino's ego could grow anymore. You took a chance on him? You decided to try something new, to experience something different from your day-to-day all because you saw his profile? And that himself decided to take a risk and message you? Damn, he just won the damn lottery.

"But dating in general is new for me."

Woah, pause. You've never dated someone before? His eyes widened and jaw dropped slightly.

All you could do was sit there as began to panic. Oh no. Everything around you felt like it was coming tumbling down. And to make matters worse, the waitress showed up with your dinner plates. She set them down in front of the two of you respectful. The awkward tension literally being cut by the sound of sizzling meats from Dino's fajitas and the steam rising into the air.

"Let me know if you two need anything else!"

I need you to help me get out of this nightmare.

"Sorry," Dino said, clearing his throat. God, he felt awful. He could actually see the way your heart shattered at his reaction. And the thing was that he didn't even think it was a bad thing. He was just surprised because he was under the impression that everyone his age just dated around and that it was awful.

Time to do some damage control.

"I'm just surprised. I know it can't be because guys weren't throwing themselves at you. I mean, you are absolutely breathtaking," he vocalized. "But you really never have been on a first date? Ever?" "Never ever," you said, laughing nervously.

Now he felt the need just to get to know you, but also be protective of you. You truly were an angel in every sense to him.

The remainder of the date was smooth. It was as if disclosing your little secret helped you feel more relaxed. It also helped that Dino didn't come from a place of judgement. You did end up asking him what all he had experienced, and he admitted that it was quite a bit more.

But it seems like the thing you two were searching for was an authentic love connection. It was something Dino has gotten close to experiencing, but only scratched the surface of discovering.

Dino was the absolute gentleman during the date. He made sure you had enough water, that you were enjoying your meal, and that he even paid. That was something he wouldn't let you dispute. You weren't expecting it either, which also took Dino by surprised. He figured it was just first date etiquette that the man pays. Yet, you've heard too many horror stories from your roommates and TikToks were the guy doesn't even over to pay his half.

He even offered to drive you home. You were hesitant, for which Dino than at least offered to order you an Uber back to your apartment. But feeling guilty of him spending more money, you agreed to a ride back to your apartment. He allowed you to put in your address into the GPS before you relaxed in the passenger seat.

Never before did Dino think there was something special about a person riding passenger seat. Now, he wanted you always to be by his side in this sense. He loved glancing over whenever he rolled up to the stop sign or stopped at a red light that he could see you.

There indeed was something different about you, and Dino felt it. You were unlike any other woman he's been with as you seemed to want to invest in someone, to create something unique. You made him feel as though all those trials and tribulations of dating were all worth it if it meant it led all to you this whole time.

Coming up to your apartment, Dino parked the car. You raised an eyebrow as you watched him get out. It all clicked though when he walked around to open the passenger side door.

"You really are a gentleman, huh?" You said teasingly. "Hey, I'm just making sure you get to experience everything you've missed out on."

You smiled brightly at him before gently getting out of the passenger seat. And this time, you didn't hide your blushing cheeks. Dino loved knowing that he could elicit that type of reaction out of you, and he wanted to do it more often. Hopefully he's done enough to get you to consider a second date.

Once he made sure you were on the sidewalk and away from the door, he closed it. Slowly, he began walking you to the front door of your row house apartment. It was as if he didn't want the night to end. Neither did you.

"So," he began. "How was your very first date?" "It was everything I could have dreamed of and then some. Thank you for your kindness, Dino." "Anything for you, angel,' he confessed in a hushed tone.

Angel. I could get used to that.

Sooner than you two would like, you arrived at the steps of your apartment. Turning towards each other, you seemed like a lost for words. Especially you. What do you say to a guy that seems too good to be real? While you were hopeful he would want a second date, you wanted to be realistic. You couldn't fight the thoughts of your anxiety creeping in - what if he was only kind because he felt bad for you?

"I had a great time tonight, y/n," Dino began.

You were more than happy to let him take the lead on any sort of closing statement. Your racing heart and mind just was anticipating a 'but' to slip in.

"I don't want you to feel pressured to say yes to a second date. I know that there are a whirlwind of emotions that comes with any first date, let alone your very first one. All I'm saying is that I hope you consider seeing me again?"

The man in front of you was not the confident man you just had dinner with. He was biting his lip gently, his hands were in his pockets as he tried his damn best to keep eye contact with you. But, you could tell that he was anticipating a rejection.

Oh, how the tables have turned. Gently, you took a step towards Dino. His eyes widened slightly but he couldn't fight the smile on his face. Leaning up gently, you pressed your lips to his cheek lingeringly.

"And miss out on experiencing a second date? No way."

[inawickedlittletown]

No Queerbaiting Here

A long time ago…I’m talking May of 2021, I wrote a meta post about queerbaiting. Essentially an essay. I wrote it right before the S4 finale of 9-1-1 aired because I was frustrated by Buddie fans calling Queerbait entirely like the boy that cried wolf. I still stand by it. Sort of. 

Now, even back then I was pretty clear about how 50/50 I was on Buddie ever going canon. (Maybe not in that post but certainly elsewhere) But, I shipped Buddie then and wrote a lot of fic and meta and participated in fandom. I never said it couldn’t happen…I just would never be bothered if it didn’t.

Where we stand now: It’s not going to happen. 

And where I stand now: fully immersed in Bucktommy. And what’s more, I am more than perfectly happy about Buck and Tommy staying together and going the long-run. Although I can still look at Buddie and think it’s a cute ship, I just don’t want it in canon. I would not be satisfied if the show went that way. But what’s more if Buck and Tommy don’t work out, that would be disappointing, but I’d be okay as long as they got to be happy. There is, after all, always fanfiction. 

So, I wanted to revisit this concept a bit now that Buck has been confirmed as Bisexual and now that he is in a relationship with a man. Not Eddie. Tommy. And somehow, some Buddie fans are still crying queerbait because their ship is not canon. That’s not how it works. Also…shipping works outside of canon, that’s the whole point of shipping. 

To reiterate from my original post on queerbaiting, here’s the definition from wikipedia:

“Queerbaiting is a marketing technique for fiction and entertainment in which creators hint at, but then do not actually depict, same-sex romance or other LGBTQ representation. They do so to attract a queer or straight ally audience with the suggestion of relationships or characters that appeal to them, while at the same time attempting to avoid alienating other consumers.” 

Here’s where I stand: Buddie was abandoned a long time ago. If it was ever a real possibility, we won’t ever know. What we do know is that Oliver was aware that at one point he had given them the go-ahead to make Buck Bi. Whether this was by putting Buck and Eddie together or having Buck realize this another way, we just don’t know that. We don’t have that information and nor will it probably ever be provided to us. Narratively, I know that a lot of fans figured the timing of it fit with S4 and that particular finale but we really just don’t know despite what happened in the finale.

I found that interesting looking back at my own post from back then and the discussion that followed where some fans felt that the way the finale went would determine if Buddie would be another queerbait ship. (I think most people agreed after the will scene that it wasn’t queerbait because it did leave a kernel of hope that Buddie might still happen). 

And yeah, I guess you could argue that the network deciding not to go the route of a queer storyline points to missed opportunity. That doesn’t then mean that any queerbaiting occurred or that any fans are owed anything just because something that was set up or that the writers were writing towards was then scrapped by the network. Is it a shame that it didn’t happen in whatever way they wanted to play it out, sure, but only because Buck would have been confirmed queer earlier. In the same vein isn’t it nice that we have a confirmed Bisexual Buck now? That the show managed to bring it back to that.

A Buck that is happy and free and that has realized something so monumental about himself? Isn’t it nice that all the queer coding that Buck as a character has received since the start of the show is actually finally not just queer coding but full on character development? That we can look back at the show and see all the things Buck did around other men for exactly what they were. 

When Tommy first returned to 9-1-1 in S7, I think a lot of us were excited by the spoilers about Buck and Tommy because of Bi Buck, but also because this was the thing that could lead to Buddie. 

And then…then Tommy was actually on my screen and I doubted it. I actually thought maybe the spoilers were wrong and this was about Eddie and Tommy? That episode flipped things in such an expertly way that by the time Tommy and Buck were sharing a kiss for the first time I was right there with Buck. On a second watch, it is all there. Buck was never jealous because his friend was ignoring him. He was jealous because his best friend had the attention of the guy whose attention he wanted for himself. The writing on that was perfect and no amount of twisting it can change what happened on screen. 

Buck was not jealous because of Eddie. Tommy was never interested in more than friendship with Eddie. And Buck and Tommy have nothing to do with Buddie. Tommy is not a stepping stone, a way for Buck to be ready to then embark on a relationship with Eddie. That’s both disrespectful to Tommy and Buck, but just not what the story being told on the show is doing. 

The storyline is monumental. Having a big strong guy, a firefighter, figure out his sexuality in his thirties is such good storytelling and add to that Tommy. Someone that we already know, who already works as a first responder, and who can show up and wow Buck in such a way that he realizes something about himself? This is what I’ve always wanted. Because guess what, Buck never questioned his sexuality before this. Not when he met Eddie and not when he met anyone else, not until Tommy. 

Going into the new season we know a few things and one of those is that Buck and Tommy are thriving. The media coverage talks about them as a solid couple, it talks about Buck having someone to turn to and complain to. It talks about how they are still in the getting to know each other phase and I love that for them. I love how they are being treated and described and I can’t wait to see what plays out for them and how much of the build up of their relationship we may get to actually see. 

Do you know what the media and the show never talked about outwardly like this? Buddie. Whenever it came up it was always brushed aside in a way that was respectful to fans and what they saw, but without ever confirming or hinting that the show would ever go there. They never queerbaited anyone with Buddie, what they have done is say “yeah…we know what you see” and then turned around and given us a Buck and Eddie friendship and Buck kissing Tommy, going on a date with Tommy, and thriving with Tommy. 

So, no queerbaiting here on the show where half of the major canon pairings are queer. It’s actually more like some fans baiting other fans with theories and headcanons that just don’t fit.

[urrockstar-xe]

meant for each other - j.m x fem!reader

posted april 30th, 2023, 9:23 pm

pure fucking fluff this is so cutesy im sry

masterlist

wordcount: 0.9k

“What do you see in him?” 

Sarah’s question made you laugh. What did you see in him? Please,

When you looked at JJ you saw the stars that scattered the sky the night you shared your first kiss, you saw the sunlight coming in through your curtain, shining perfectly over the boy lying fast asleep in your bed. You saw the waves crashing against you in the most comforting way possible. 

When you looked at JJ you saw your safe space, your future, and a slight fear of ever relating to “the one that got away” by Katy Perry. This is ironic considering your entire life you’ve been practically preaching words like “You’re 16 he’s not the love of your life, he’s just some boy, don’t worry, the pain will end” but now you get it because if anything were to happen you probably wouldn’t shower a lot and you’d cry so much you’d end up the most dehydrated you’ve ever been.

But as Sarah and Kie giggled beside you, you didn’t say all that. You simply responded, “What do you see in john b and fucking Topper?” 

This threw the three of you into another fit of laughter as Kiara seconded what you said and Sarah defended her taste in men. You let her, and all of her points were valid. You didn’t defend your taste because it seemed impossible for anyone to understand.

And for the most part, you were right. Your friends would watch as you laughed at a stupid joke JJ made or how fast he’d do something simply because you’re the one who asked (“jj open this beer for me?” “Yes, ma’am”), they’d watch as you scold him for the hundredth time through tears because he takes the phrase “ride or dies” far too literally for your liking. They noticed every single time that JJ sat down how he’d nod towards you as a signal to come to sit by him, and how you happily obliged every time, whether it be in his lap or on the floor in front of him. (though when this is the case he’ll have you switch places while making some dirty joke about sitting between your legs which always ends in you shoving his shoulder and him using your thigh as a pillow). They notice how gentle you act towards him whenever there's a new bruise on his cheek or cut on his lip. They notice all of it and for the last 2 years (1 year and 3 months of friendship, 8 months of something more) John B will say “They’re meant for each other,” and his two friends would nod and hum in agreement. Sarah caught on fairly fast to how you two were. The dynamic of two people who would do anything to prevent losing all they had.

The first time she fully noticed just how bad it was, happened a while back when John B was getting arrested and the cops had you all surrounded. 

She saw the look that flashed in your eyes when you saw JJ prepping his gun for whatever idiotic idea he had in mind, she saw the sirens going off in your head as he watched John B direct JJ’s plan elsewhere and give himself up. The sirens didn’t stop until all of the cop cars and boats were scattering back to where they belonged. Leaving the group of pogues without their friend. But all you could think of was the image of your boyfriend murdered in front of you by a bunch of cops. Because yeah it didn’t happen but what if it had? Sarah had seen the way you pushed JJ back just to grab fistfuls of his shirt and bring him right back to you, “what the fuck was that, JJ? Huh? If they had even seen that gun you’d be bleeding out right now, No actually you’d probably be fucking dead” Pope tried to intervene but he was quickly shut up by Kiara pulling him back to her side, silently telling him to leave you be. JJ was quiet, his eyes rapidly moving to follow the stream of tears rolling down your cheeks, his hands softly placed on your wrists to try and keep your hands from shaking more than they already had been. 

“You always say that stupid shit about having nothing to lose but I fucking do JJ and it’s you, you’re what I have to lose and if you ever do some stupid shit like that again I swear to god-” 

And at that moment, as Sarah saw you practically fall into him, sobbing into his shoulder while he held you together, she realized.

She saw what you saw, she saw everything you had, everything you needed, who happened to come in the form of a pretty and reckless teenage boy.

Now, months later, she watched as you were twirled in a circle by that very same boy. Smiling and Laughing as you danced under the tree lights at the chateau. 

“They’re meant for each other” This time it was Sarah saying it, with a soft smile on her lips. Four people agreed in hums and nods. “They've always been like that?” Cleo’s question was immediately answered by groans and laughs, “only since the beginning of time,” Pope replied, “it’s like they're in their own little disgusting world,” Kie joked.

“I think it’s sweet,” Sarah said, “me too,” John B agreed.