#really the best things i learned was when i was working at a cinema

[oifaaa]

As much as i hated working in the service industry there was something fun about getting to find out all the things you dont get to see as just a customer like when I worked at a deli a customer once asked me why we only did ham and cheese croissants on random days and I lied telling her it was just which ever day the manager decided but really we only sold them when the croissants from the bakery hadn't sold the previous day

[teapartyprincess4two]

Messy- J. Webber

pairing: Waitress!reader x Mechanic!Jake

classification: SMUT SMUT NO FLUFF

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, messy sex, public sex, facial, cream pie, cursing

inspiration: request

summary: Jake is a regular customer at the diner you work at, eating the same meal everyday before returning back to work. One day, when you’re taking his order, you can tell he has much more sinful intentions than a quick meal.

—

The diner is slow today, it always is on Sundays. You’ve had a total of 5 customers and it’s already past noon, making the day feel endless. You’re currently messing with the fryer in the kitchen. It turned off suddenly and now it won’t turn back on. “Stupid fucking fryer,” you grumble, clicking random buttons until it finally starts heating.

Suddenly the front doorbell rings, indicating a customer has entered the lobby. “Hello! I’ll be right with you!” you call out from the kitchen, peering your head over the order window to catch a glimpse of the customers. You instantly recognize that it’s Jake, he’s a regular customer and arrives everyday at exactly 12:30pm without fail.

Jake saunters in, dirty and sweaty from a hard days work. He works at an automotive repair shop that sits right on the corner of the street, choosing your diner everyday as his preferred dining spot. The walk from his car shop isn’t long, but he always leaves early so he misses the lunch rush.

Because he’s such a frequent customer, Jake knows the diner well, so he situates himself in the booth that gives him the best view of the kitchen. When he first started eating here, he realized that this booth provided him with a cinema worthy experience because he could watch you work as he enjoyed his meal.

You emerge from the kitchen with a big smile on your face, walking around the front counter and over to Jake’s table. “Can’t get enough of this place, huh?” you joke, retrieving a small notebook and ball point pen from the depths of your apron.

“Guess so,” Jake replies with a chuckle, folding his dirty hands over the table. They’re permanently stained with car oil, calloused by countless hours of manual labor. Your eyes travel from his broad, tattooed shoulders down to his folded arms, relishing in the way his sweat glistens in the sun that trickles in through the window. His white tank top is adorned with black smudges and stains, ripped and frayed along the edges. There’s dirt under his fingernails, a detail that you’d usually find disturbing, but it adds even more grit to Jake. You love the idea of being fucked by a hard working man who isn’t afraid to get dirty.

Jake’s messy look completely juxtaposes yours. You’re wearing your diner uniform, clad in a pastel pink dress and an apron so white it reflected the sun. Your hair is curled and pinned back, a matching pink bow dangling in between your bouncy strands. Stark white sneakers sway back and forth, as you wait patiently for Jake to order. You looked so clean, too clean, and Jake wanted to roam his hands all over you and watch how messy you could really get.

“So, your usual?” you ask, knowing Jake’s order by heart. Over the course of his visits, you’ve learned that Jake is a simple man. He orders the same thing everyday and although the food was slightly above average, he claimed it was his favorite as an excuse to watch you work.

Jake loved watching as you diligently wiped down tables, your hips rocking back and forth as you worked the rag into tough, grimy spots. When you were mopping, he’d scoot closer to the edge of his seat and watch you bend over as you rung out the mop. He especially loves watching as you walked over to his booth with his meal in hand, because once you arrive to the table you bend over just enough to expose the top of your breasts.

“You know how I like it, baby,” the nickname slips out naturally, the flirtatious undertones evident in Jake’s voice. At first you would become flustered with his incessant flirting, but now that you’re used to it, you get turned on. You feel like a car engine, revved up and ready to fuck some miles into him.

“Alright, it’ll be right out,” you reply with a playful smile, shoving the notepad and pen back into your apron before making your way back to the kitchen. Your hips sway as you walk away, the string of your apron slapping against your ass with each step.

Jake’s eyes are glued to you, mentally undressing you from across the room. He’s really hungry now, but not for the food.

—

20 minutes have passed and you’re still not back with his food. Jake isn’t the type to complain, but he knows it never takes you this long. Loud beeping rings throughout the diner, followed by a loud yell from the kitchen, “Ow! Fuck!” Metal clangs on the floor shortly after, a string of cuss words coming from you.

Jake’s natural instinct is to get up and check on you, but you come out from the kitchen before he can act on it. You’re pressing a cold, wet towel on your hand, “Sorry, it’s gonna be a while. The fryer’s been acting up all day and it just turned off. I burnt myself trying to fix it, but I popped your fries in the oven instead, okay?”

Jake sees the opportunity and takes it, “No problem. I can take a look at it if you want?” He’s an extremely handy man, and he’s hoping to get handsy with you if he plays his cards right.

“At what?” you ask confused, applying pressure to your hand.

“The fryer. I can try to fix it. It’ll only take a few minutes,” he replies, using his hands to push himself out of the booth. Before you can protest, Jake begins walking to the kitchen. His dirty work boots leave a trail of footprints on the floor as you follow closely behind, trying to keep up with his long strides. He quickly finds the fryer, following the smell of gas until he locates the source.

“No, it’s okay! I’ll just put in a work order,” you reason, watching as he kneels in front of the machine. You were beginning to panic, no one other than employees were allowed in the kitchen. What if your boss suddenly showed up and found him back here? Not to mention how unsanitary it was for him to be touching everything with his soiled hands.

“Yeah? And when will they finally come fix it?”

The question has you stumped, causing you to think for a while. The maintenance men usually didn’t come until weeks after the initial work order was put in, and working without a fryer for that long sounded like actual hell. That didn’t mean you wanted a customer working while on their lunch break, “Probably a couple of weeks, but it’s okay. It’s not a big deal, really!”

Your words fall on deaf ears though because Jake is opening the fryer hatch, a whiff of cooking oil and gas hitting him straight in the face. From that smell alone he immediately knew the problem, “Yeah, see, the gas line isn’t connected. One stray spark and this whole place is blowing up.”

Jake’s used to working in much hotter temperatures, surrounded daily by the summer weather and even hotter car engines. So, although the fryer is emitting a lot of heat, it’s nothing compared to what he deals with daily. He manages to find the main gas line, turning the nob off to ensure there isn’t any other leaks. After that, he swiftly turns the machine off before unscrewing a hot, black tube. He pulls the black tube off with a grunt, causing a loud hissing noise as the last bits of gas spill out.

“How do you know it’s the gas line?” you ask curiously, blissfully unaware and nose blind to the smell. “The smell,” he replies blatantly, strong hands removing random pieces from the machine. Well they were random to you, but Jake seemed to know the purpose of each piece.

The oven dings faintly in the background, indicating that the fries are finally done baking. You would love to stay and watch his arms flex as he worked, but you didn’t want to cause another hazard, “I’ll be back, those are the fries. I don’t want them to burn.”

He hums in response, the sound being followed by another animalistic grunt. You feel your core clench at the sound, there was something about him that made you want to push him to the ground and get messy.

You force yourself to look away, finally walking over to the oven to retrieve the fries before they burn.

—

The fryer was worse than either of you anticipated, causing Jake to spend more than a ‘few minutes’ working on it. He’s lying face up on the floor to get a better view, a broken down cardboard box is sprawled out under him to serve as a cushion and as a barrier from the cold floor.

Luckily you’ve only had one other customer since then and all they ordered was a drink, so you’ve been able to watch Jake work this entire time. Your pussy is throbbing at the possibilities, your mind delving into uncharted territory as you imagine what he’d look like under you.

Jake’s hips buck upward as he adjust himself, pushing himself further into the machine each time. Your eyes fall onto his crotch every time, you can’t help but stare and salivate at the growing bulge. He knows you’re watching and it’s turning him on.

“Here, hold this piece right… there,” he instructs, voice trailing off as his fingers pinch a wire in place. You comply, scooting closer so you can properly hold the wire in place. The position is uncomfortable though, your legs struggling to remain in place as you try not to fall on Jake.

After a while your legs start to hurt, trembling from the constant strain. “I can’t reach,” you explain, attempting to shift your weight so you’re comfortable.

Jake lifts his head up, careful not to hit it against the metal above him, as he peers at you. You were awkwardly reaching over him, one hand gripping onto the edge of the fryer as the other stretched to properly hold the wire in place. He looks down at your legs, watching as they shake before he accidentally catches a glimpse of your underwear.

“Here, just…” he begins to say, forgetting his sentence as his mind fills with sinful thoughts of you. He places his tools on the ground before taking a hold of your waist, dirty fingerprints immediately soaking into the fabric of your dress. He uses his hands to carefully guide you over him, stopping once you’re situated directly above his crotch.

“Try again,” he instructs, forcing himself to think about anything other than the newfound pressure you’re applying to him. You reposition the wire with your right hand, your left hand resting on Jake’s chest for support. Once the wire is in place, he scoots forward, his hips bucking up again as he does it. The rough material of his jeans rubs against your clothed pussy, causing you to squirm from above him. You’re forced to bite back a whine, realizing that this was not the time nor the place to be getting all riled up.

Jake is extremely concentrated, choosing to ignore the growing erection in his pants. “Hand me the pliers,” he says, but it comes out more like a command. His toolbox sits next to you, the short distance being close enough for you rummage through it quickly. You subconsciously grind down on his crotch, surprised to feel the outline of his dick through the thick material of his jeans.

His hands instinctively travel to your hips again, a firm grip willing you to stop your movements. “Sorry,” you murmur, becoming drunk on the idea of Jake fucking you long and hard on the kitchen floor.

Jake lets out a small groan, the innocence in your voice seducing him even further. “Here,” you whisper, eyes locking with his for a second through your long, thick eyelashes. He takes the pliers from you, forcing himself to return to the task at hand.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

You squirm from above him, wiggling so you can feel him again. Usually you wouldn’t be this bold, but your pussy is hungry and your mind is drunk. Jake chases the feeling too, wishing there was nothing to restrict him from feeling you entirely.

“Don’t look at you like what?”

“Like you want to fuck me,” he replies sternly, the heels of his boots digging into the floor as he drags himself out from under the fryer. The cardboard makes it easier for him to slide out and he’s strong enough to bring you with him, eliciting a gasp from you as you place your hands on his chest to anchor yourself.

He sits up, his left arm immediately wrapping around your waist in the process. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, princess,” he smirks, pushing you down onto his crotch.

Your hands gingerly rest on his shoulders as you look at him through hooded eyes, were you really going to do this? The sexual tension is blinding you, causing you to make yet another bold remark.

“What if I do want to fuck you?”

“That’s fine, baby. Just don’t complain when it gets messy,” he replies coyly, pulling you further into him. Jake’s plump lips latch onto yours, metal lip rings digging into your face. The pain only eggs you on, your hands traveling up his neck and tangling into his hair.

“So eager,” he murmurs into the kiss, scrunching your dress up around your abdomen. His hands find your ass, slapping and kneading the skin in his firm grip. Moans are slipping from you, all of them being swallowed by Jake as he hungrily kisses you back. Your hips grind onto him again, desperate for release.

You’re whimpering, trying to feel as much of him as possible through the multiple layers of fabric that separate you. “Patience, baby,” he moans, but even he’s becoming impatient.

It comes to no surprise when you scoot back onto his thigh and feverishly unzip his pants, he doesn’t protest either, instead he watches eagerly. You make swift work of his pants, Jake lifts his hips to help you tug them off. “I want you to make a mess on my face,” you whisper, hopping off of Jake’s lap so you can wiggle further down.

The suggestion makes Jake’s dick twitch, precum spilling out from the tip and soaking into his boxers. You pull his boxers down and they pool around his ankles alongside his pants. His dick stands up straight, and it’s so big you begin to wonder if this was a good idea. How was that supposed to fit inside of you?

Jake knows exactly what you’re thinking, smirking at the sight of you gawking over the size of his cock. You’re brave though, so you crawl closer to him and slowly begin pumping his shaft. His head is immediately thrown back in pleasure, your touch alone almost being enough for him to spill his seed onto your hand.

You wrap your lips around the tip, your head inching down to the base slowly. If you go any faster, you’ll surely gag around his cock and start crying. “Just like that,” he groans, swooping some of your hair out of your face with one hand as the other holds his dick in place for you. Your lips kiss his hand as you take as much of his as possible, your throat struggling to keep up with the sheer size of him.

His hips thrust into your mouth, eliciting a gag from you that flips a switch in Jake. He wants to hear that sound again and again, so he holds your head firmly and guides it up and down his cock repeatedly. Each time you reach the tip, you gasp for air before he’s pushing you back down again. Saliva is dripping down your chin and bubbling at the corners of your mouth, tricking far enough to coat Jake’s penis entirely.

“Making such a big mess, beautiful,” he grunts, pulling you away from him to get a better look at your face. Streaks of mascara run down your face, your hair is all over the place, and saliva is actively dribbling down your chin. “Come here, let me ruin you,” he instructs, pulling you back down so he can coat your face and uniform in his cum.

He pumps his cock aggressively over your face, watching with a slack jaw as you close your eyes and allow his cum to paint your face. You’re glazed in the liquid, squealing slightly at the new sensation. “Yummy,” you giggle, licking your lips to gather as much of it on your tongue as possible.

Jake isn’t done though, he’s fully prepared to go another round with you, but this time with his dick balls deep in you. Right as you’re about to continue, you hear the front doorbell ring.

“Hello?” a customer asks, peering over the counter in search of an employee. Luckily, because you’re on the floor, you’re perfectly out of view. Jake gets an idea, immediately pulling you onto his lap and pushing your panties to the side so aggressively they rip.

“Sit,” he commands, aligning his cock with your entrance. You look at him in shock and whisper shout, “there’s a customer!” He’s unrelenting, dragging the tip of his cock up your folds as a response. You bite your lip, accepting the challenge as you sit on his thick dick.

A small gasp escapes your mouth once you bottom out, the girth of his cock stretching your walls.

“Hello? Anybody there?!” The customer shouts, tiptoeing to see behind the order window and into the kitchen. They’re becoming more and more impatient by the second.

You begin bouncing on Jake’s dick, his hands leaving prints all over your dress. You’re a whimpering mess, the stretch being both pleasureful and painful.

“C’mon, princess, is anybody there?” he taunts, sucking on the skin of your neck. You pull him in closer by his neck, moaning into his ear as quietly as possible.

“I just want a coffee!” the customer pleads, still trying to find at least one employee. Jake slaps your ass, silently instructing you to respond.

“Take a seat! I’ll be right with you,” you squeak out, trying not to sound like you’re getting your brains fucked out. Jake is satisfied with your response, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you down harder on him.

“You’re making me wait for a coffee?!”

Jake’s angles you forward so he can fuck you harder, his head resting on your chest. “I’m fixing the- fuck,” you begin, but Jake hits a spot inside of you that has you clenching around him. “What are you fixing?” Jake questions, loving how flustered you are.

“I’m fixing the fryer,” you spew out, the lame excuse annoying the customer further. The euphoric feeling in your pussy is enough to wash away any anxiety you feel, your walls clenching around Jake with each thrust.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he moans, his orgasm from earlier catching up to him. “Cum in me,” you demand, so drunk off his dick that you don’t realize what you said. The idea is enticing, so enticing that Jake doesn’t second guess it either.

One last thrust has him spilling his hot seed inside of you, the warm feeling sending you over the edge shortly after.

“Just a coffee! UNBELIEVABLE.”

“I’m coming,” you yelp, as your orgasm washes over you. You’re whimpering, moaning, and panting as you convulse around Jake’s cock. The statement puts a smirk on his face, you were definitely coming.

Once you come down from your orgasm, Jake is pulling you off of him slowly. You look like a beautiful mess. White liquid drips from your hole down your thighs, your underwear is ripped, your dress is stained from Jake’s oily hands, streaks of mascara run down your cheeks, your face is coated in cum, and your hair is tangled.

“Go get him his coffee,” Jake teases, watching as you slowly realize how crazy you look right now. He slaps your ass one last time before you’re hopping off of him, adjusting your dress and smoothing your hair down haphazardly.

You grab a napkin, running it across your face as you try and clean yourself up as best as possible. It’s no use, you look a mess. Without another word, you’re stumbling out into the lobby.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

BARK BARK BARK

First Jake story

MeOWWWWW

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[earthnashes]

SOOOOOOOO. Arcane season 2, huh? Now that a couple of days have passed for me to marinate I think I'm ready to share my thoughts on the season. This WILL contain spoilers though so if you haven't seen it, I highly recommend watching for yourself first!

So! Overall, as a standalone season I feel like there are things Arcane excelled at and things that have lost its way a bit. For starters and easily the best part of the show: it's visuals. I've heard some complaints about how much the show cost but like. Brother. When I think of super expensive shows, THIS is what I think it should look like. At no point did I question the budget because it's made abundantly clear every penny is used to best use it could possibly get. And it resulted in what I've been calling a modern greek statue: a marvel, an incredible tapestry of just about every art medium you can think of woven into something so beyond anything I've seen in animation I have a hard time finding the appropriate words to express exactly how much I'm taken by it. This is a clear example of what art IS man and jesus christ. It's mindblowing. I can't praise the show enough for that, like it's literally the best looking thing I've ever seen in media.

Same with the sound design and music, particularly in the battle scenes. Something about the energy behind the sounds, like the clacking of Vi's gloves as shes revving up for a punch, or the reverb of metal clashing, the sound of how blows connect. Even the little things, like the distinct difference between footsteps, or the glitch-like sound that spiders in the backround before shimmer or the arcane is utilized? Like CHEF'S KISS BRO. God almighty it tickles a part in my head.

Just the visuals and sound design is fuckin tasty bro. A solid 1000000000/10

So now Characters. Season 2 managed to take the existing characters and really built off of what was already there. In my opinion the characters, particularly the main players, received additional depth and evolution in a way that made sense in the long run, and the conclusions they reached in their arcs felt like a correct conclusion. However, it's how they got there and how fast they get there being one of my complaints.

For starters: the love triangle between Jinx, Vi, and Caitlyn. I didn't appreciate how, for the most part, it felt like it took a backseat in this season when it was one of the driving forces of season 1. It's not JUST them though: the relationships of every character kinda fell away to the wayside for the sake of getting through as much of the plot as possible, but we're on these three right now so:

-I feel like a PROPER recouncil between Vi and Jinx was sorely needed. There were hints to it, particularly in Act 2, but we were kinda left guessing and having to fill the majority of the gaps ourselves. One of Vi's driving factors as a character is her relationship with Jinx/Powder; her unable to accept that she's changed in her absence. Act 2 opened the door in allowing Vi to learn about Jinx as she is and come to terms that, even if she's changed, she's still her sister and there's a chance to bridge that gap. Vice versa to Jinx, particularly because of Isha's presence; I have to assume by becoming an older sister herself, she begins to get an understanding of Vi she previously lacked and that really could've been a stronger catalyst in her recounciling with her. Had the sisters actually got more on-screen time together and really let the hope between them breath, I feel like the ending would've had a much stronger impact.

-Cait/Vi, as much as I enjoy the pairing, felt a little too disjointed. Act 1 was the strongest showcase of their relationship; a sudden escalation driven by mutual grief and attraction and genuine care only to be torn apart immediately after because of Cait's blind rage. Cinema. Beautiful. But immediately after, we don't really see either character work off that much in my opinion. Vi does have a spiral that was very well shown, though I do wish we saw more of Pit Vi and her descent.

As far as Cait goes I would've preferred seeing her spiraling in her own way; with how the third episode of Act 1 ended, I felt like the show was gearing up to showcase how much she allows her hunt for vengeance cloud her mind and take over her life, to do things her mother would have not approved of. Like bro she was so SURE she wouldn't miss (immediately after missing every shot she took up to that point) that she was willing to potentially kill a child for it. Ain't no way she wasn't constantly frothing at the mouth for some time, wallowing in Vi's apparent "betrayal" and in the grief of her mother's death. I DO like how she is seen questioning her actions but it just feels like a tiny snapshot. Had they continued with showing her questioning what, exactly, the hell she's doing (while continuing to go on with her reign), then seeing not just Vi but also how her actions has widened the rift between Piltover and Zaun, her finally being able to break herself off would've felt more weighty.

"What are you shooting for, young Kiramman?" Grayson once asked. I can't help but feel like that line could have had some very strong carry-through into this season; not only giving a proper callback to Grayson as Cait's mentor(?) but also cement Cait's inner turmoil between blinded by revenge, but growing to dislike what she's turned into to get it.

And the sex scene. Particularly WHERE the sex scene occurred, immediately after Jinx heavily implied offing herself to "break the cycle". Vi isn't stupid. I felt like it was extremely clear what Jinx was alluding to, and it seemed like Vi understood that with how she asked "What are you gonna do?" She sounded terrified and desperate. She has SEEN Jinx be suicidal in this season first hand, was all but directly asked by Jinx to put her out of her misery herself. You're telling me she immediately bones the shit outta Cait right after Jinx scampers off and seems to forget it?? I dunno man. :/ I wouldn't remove the fuckfest, but in my opinion there were better places to put it.

And overall in terms of the characters as a whole, there was just too many gaps and too little time. Vander felt like he was underutilized, particularly his clear fight in trying to get a hold of his humanity; could've really used him to push the running theme of people can change, but they're still the same person at their very core.

Heimerdinger got shafted I feel like. He had such a strong impact in S1, only for his death to be... well. Forgotten.

Mel's storyline was way too fucking short. Love the powers she got but they ultimately felt unearned; I feel like we could've spent way more time on her learning to control it to some extent. Her whole shtick in being cunning and one step ahead of everyone (much like her mother) could've played a stronger part here too, particularly because I don't remember the Black Rose being explained much, so it would've been nice to see Mel put her strengths into play to find out for herself and give her a more active role in her ability to fight back.

Ambessa was anticlimactic and I didn't appreciate how she ultimately perished. I wanted her to die, don't get me wrong, but the war in general felt waaaaay too short and her death too easy. I appreciate they didn't go full evil with her, and made her an embodiment of Singe's quote of "doing horrendous things in the name of love", but it kinda felt like her initial plot of using hextech to fight the Black Rose (I could be wrong here but that is what it felt like she ultimately wanted) kinda got... forgotten?

Victor's progression is the only one that felt mostly natural in it's pacing. But again, with how unstoppable his robot pawns were, I felt like they really robbed the final battle of any significant weight to it; Zaun and Piltover, fighting as one against a common enemy. One of the biggest payoffs in the show... felt underwheming and, again, unearned.

And the new characters didn't really get much chance to do much of anything. Loris felt like an important parallel to Vander given how many times he was shown to look and sorta act like him. I felt like he had a bigger role to fill but just ended up bodied. Maddie, at least, had somethin interesting goin on but I feel like she could've been made more impactful in her betrayal.

Overall, a mid 5/10. It wasn't terrible, but it definitely needed more time to really flesh everything out.

And finally, the plot. I personally really enjoyed the overall plot and it's opposing themes to season 1. Whereas s1 felt like "love is undoing" and veered into tragedy, s2 felt like "love is healing" and veered into hope; the sisters learning to accept one another, Vi and Cait mending the rift between each other, Victor and Jayce finding their way back to one another. Isha giving Jinx purpose and a new perspective on life, Vander returning and, even if briefly, managing to regain his humanity for his daughters, the list goes on. It's such a beautiful contrast to season 1, but that is part of why I strongly feel like Arcane NEEDED one more season.

Season 2 was too focused on getting as much story out as possible that it didn't allow the characters themselves to push it forward, and it was weakened for it. Had there been three seasons, Act 1 and Act 2 could have been the entirety of season 2, and Act 3 could have been the whole of a season 3, where we get to see the total climax of everything that occurred. Given the rumors of there being a strong interest for an animated movie (and I have a theory that it might be to continue the story of Arcane in some way), that might help with some of the contingencies if it's true, but that's only if the movie actually comes to fruition.

As it currently stands, my biggest critique of Season 2 was switching focus on making the plot drive the story, when instead it really should've continued the trend from Season 1 in letting the characters drives the story forward.

_______

My meds is beginning to kick in and I'm getting drowsy from it so I'll leave it here for now! TLDR: Arcane Season 2 was mostly good. I have my fair bit of complaints and thoughts on how I'd personally structure everything, but a a whole, pretty good! It's one of those shows where I would personally recommend everyone watch from start to finish to at least experience it in its entirety yourself.

Season 2 Rating: 7.5/10

[pandafruit]

Ok, I’ve been tossing this AU around in my head for AGES, and I have to get it out or I’m gonna explode.

So in TEC, it’s made pretty clear that there are numerous risks to reviving Butler that even the fairies can’t fully account for. No healing like his had ever been attempted before, and there was really no telling what was gonna happen.

What if, in the face of all this, Holly refuses to heal him?

She’s not a trained medical warlock. She’s on her own. And she’s being asked to desecrate the body of her friend, with unknown, possibly catastrophic results. She refuses, tries her best to console Artemis and goes home.

Now, a lot changes from here.

Artemis obviously isn’t giving up hope. He transfers Butler to longer term cryogenic storage and has human surgeons fix his wounds as best they can in the meantime.

Artemis and Holly’s friendship is shattered. Artemis could never forgive her for not even trying to heal Butler. Holly doesn’t hate him in turn, but she does (mostly) believe she did the right thing, and wishes he would see her point of view. The LEP might still occasionally contact Artemis for help (though not for long - I’ll get to it) but the two of them remain, at absolute best, frosty around each other from then on.

Spiro and Blunt are no longer getting the “off to prison” treatment lmao. Artemis contacts Carla Frazetti and convinces the Chicago mob to turn on Spiro and assassinate both him and Blunt. Afterward, Artemis ends up taking Spiro’s place as benefactor and strategist for the mob. In return, Carla provides him with a security detail when needed (which is how I’m getting around Artemis not dying without Butler every 5 minutes lmao). The relationship proves very beneficial to Carla, and absolutely horrible for Artemis’s moral compass.

Artemis becomes obsessed with learning how to use magic - if the fairies won’t heal Butler, he’ll do it himself. This strains his working relationship with the LEP to the breaking point, and he eventually becomes a fairy fugitive. (I’ll be honest, this one is just bc I think Warlock!Artemis is cool as hell. They should’ve let him keep the magic >:(((( ) (Also cue tragic-yet-awesome scene where Holly is trying to bring him in and they get into a magic fight. The drama. The cinema).

Speaking of his magic! Artemis is no longer actively monitoring Foaly’s work, and the calculation error for the demons goes unnoticed until far too late. Thousands die in Hybras’s return to Earth, and the fairies come dangerously close to being revealed altogether.

When Artemis’s Atlantis Complex hits, because of his decidedly more amoral life path and extra dabbling in magic, it’s a hundred times worse. He has full blown hallucinations, panic attacks, multiple alters, and can no longer access fairy help for any of it. He stumbles by with human OCD treatments, but it’s not nearly as effective. He still refuses to see a psychiatrist.

Eventually, years down the line, Artemis masters magic well enough to revive Butler. It’s both better and worse than it would’ve been had Holly healed him - he no longer has to deal with the Kevlar strands thanks to the human medical intervention, and Artemis was able to train for years specifically to heal him, but the extra time in stasis means it takes even more of Butler’s life force to revive him.

When Butler finally awakes, he no longer recognizes the cold, paranoid, angry young man he used to dutifully protect. Butler may have been the one who was revived, but it’s Artemis who came back wrong.

There’s a million different ways this AU could go, but this is the stuff I’ve been tossing around. Also I know for a fact I haven’t hit every plot hole - PLEASE please share what you guys think would happen with me!! As of rn, I have no name for this AU, so I would appreciate suggestions for that too lmao

[miraclewoozi]

DRIVE. - l.c

DRIVE -- or, the night you realise it's actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place.

pairing : chan x fem reader. content : fwb > lovers. angst, smut (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT), fluff. more or less in that order. they’re both dumb as hell. not explicitly put in any detail but this was written with a more 70s vibe in mind so feel free to bear that in mind when thinking of the car/tech/styles etc if u like. w/c : 7.8k warnings : lots of swearing. it’s all a big fuckin misunderstanding because i am a whore for that. weed & alcohol mentioned (neither party is drunk or high at the time of this taking place). mentions of past cheating (neither mc or chan are the cheater). some pov switching because i said so. let me know if i've forgotten anything. proofread exactly once so if there's a typo, no there isn't. SMUT TAGS UTC.  notes : dino. get the fuck off my ass. i’m so serious i am not strong enough to handle the very real feelings i have for you. go away.  notes 2.0 : i listened to halsey’s drive for some inspo for this & took that as the title, so feel free to give it a listen if you want!

SMUT TAGS : dom!chan. car fuckin', making out, hair pulling, grinding/dry humping, fingering, finger sucking, dick riding, marking/scratching, unprotected sex (make good choices), overstimulation, multiple orgasms. praise. chan calls reader ‘baby’ & ‘sweetheart’. he’s a BIG talker during sex (sorry).

You’re not stupid. You heard his car pull up outside your house almost an hour ago. 

Since then, at random intervals ranging anywhere between thirty seconds and five minutes, there have been clinks of a thrown stone at your bedroom window, a piece of the gravel that lines your driveway. Each time, it makes your jaw tense, makes your fingers tighten in the bedsheets you pulled all the way up to your chin in a foul mood at 8pm. It’s been the same now for almost two weeks — you’ve been getting home from work, showering the day away, eating your dinner and retiring to your room as early as you possibly can. Your roommate tried to find out what was wrong around day three but you very promptly shut her down — she’s since learned that the best she’s getting out of you currently is a dismissive wave of your hand or some kind of a grunt. She joked one evening that it was like she’d adopted a teenager; you scowled so violently that she went to her room. 

Hardly any of your other friends have seen anything of you, either, despite the fact that several have come knocking to check if you’re all right. 

You’re very much not all right, as it happens. This is perhaps the most upset you’ve ever felt, and that’s going quite some way. The angriest, too. It’s worse than when that middle aged woman threw her entire bucket of popcorn at your head when you gave her salty instead of sweet, and you were picking kernels out of your hair for the rest of your six hour shift. It’s worse than when your nasty supervisor ‘forgot’ you were in the bathroom and ended up locking you inside the cinema overnight, because you didn’t have your own set of keys to get out and the people whose numbers you remembered weren’t answering their phones. 

It’s somehow even worse than when a summer crush from a few years ago broke things off by telling you that he already had a girlfriend back home and that you were basically just a means to pass the time and get his dick wet. God, and you thought that was the lowest you could possibly be.

Here you are, though, so far beyond all those things it would be comical, if it didn’t hurt. Chan has really done a number on you, and you’re not sure how you ended up getting so emotionally involved in your situationship with him that this is what you’ve been reduced to. For days now, you’ve been swallowing back tears of frustration (both with yourself and with Chan), rolling around in your bed night on night, unable to get to sleep because all you can think about is him.

Him, and the way he sounded genuinely horrified when his friends asked about the ‘movie girl’, and he laughed, ‘God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen’. It was impressive, how quickly your face fell, in no way aided by the squealing giggles that rang through the house as a very, very drunk girl came running out of the living room and shut herself in the toilet, drowning out a chunk of the conversation you were listening in on. Somehow, it hurt even more when he went on to say ‘besides, there’s… someone else’. 

And when you have managed to drift off after hours of staring at the walls and the ceiling, hearing those words on a loop on your fed up brain? Of course he’s been in your fucking dreams, too.

In your defence, all you were trying to do was use the mirror in the hallway outside the kitchen he and his friends were standing in, readjusting your top to cover the hickey that he had so kindly left on your collarbone just the night before. It wasn’t as though you sought him out to listen in; it was a coincidence. And okay, fine, maybe you should have walked away when the conversation turned to the topic of Chan’s love life. Maybe you should have not crept closer and held your breath to be able to hear them all better. Maybe, even, you should have stayed around long enough to ask what he meant by it then and there instead of hopping in a taxi and going home without saying goodbye to anyone. 

Hindsight really is a beautiful thing.

Never gonna happen. Well, Chan seemed quite happy to ignore the fact that it already had happened. Several times. At least four of those being in the very car currently on the street outside your home. The car he’s used on countless occasions to drive you up to lovers’ lookouts in the dead of night, letting one of his many mixtapes play through the tinny speakers, where he’d kiss you breathless and cradle your face between his palms, as his fingers would delicately explore beneath your clothes, as his broad shoulders would slot between your thighs, as his hips rol–

And maybe you aren’t stupid, but Chan seems determined to prove that he sure as hell is. He came to pick you up from work the day after the party like nothing had happened, and couldn’t figure out why you said you would rather walk home in the rain than get in with him and stormed away without any further explanation. Then, he showed up on your doorstep on the morning of your day off with your favourite coffee and a breakfast bagel, asking if you could talk. He still didn’t realise what he’d done to upset you, so you slammed the door in his face. Finally, just earlier today, he ran after you in the mall, persistent as you’ve ever known him to be, and laid a hand on your shoulder when you didn’t turn around to just the sound of his voice calling your name. 

You pushed him off so hard he almost fell over. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” You had barked, shrugging your shoulders to try and realign your jacket. “I don’t want to talk to you. What’s not clicking?”

His face resembled that of a scolded pet when he took a step back and frowned at you. “I just wanted to–”

“I don’t care what you want, Chan,” you spat. “Give it up. I’m done.”

You could see the desperation swimming in his eyes as he scrambled for what to say and your heart felt like it was being weighed down all the way into your stomach. You supposed that was the part of you that was causing all this ache in the first place, and further that it was to blame for your current state of misery. But you steeled yourself and stood your ground nonetheless. He wasn’t going to win you over with puppy eyes and a pout. Not this time.

In his silence, you only then noticed how hard your breaths were coming, each slow and long but still dangerously unsteady. You lowered your voice, top lip curling at him as you muttered, “You’re embarrassed of me enough to lie to your friends? Fine. I don’t give a–… but shit, next time, tell a girl that to her face instead of behind her fucking back.”

It’s been seven hours, and you keep replaying the last thing he said to you as you stormed away (how his voice got quieter when he realised you weren’t turning back; how he sounded so hoarse, so sorry). 

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you - I— I never meant to.’

If. If. If. Were you not making it completely fucking obvious that he had, most definitely, hurt you? Part of your brain is even now starting to go down the route that he’s doing this on purpose, that it’s some twisted sort of damage control, that he hopes maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, you’ll forget what you were mad about or maybe start to second guess what you heard. But if that’s what he thinks, he obviously doesn’t know you very well at all. That’s never going to happen. 

Hell, for someone you were being so careful to keep in the appropriate lane in your head, Chan really has you thinking yourself in circles. You’re sick to your back teeth of him, and his stupid voice and his stupid smile and his stupid –

Clink.

Stupid. Fucking. Stones.

A groan loud enough to definitely catch the attention of your roommate sounds from deep within your chest at this interruption to your spiral and you finally, finally concede. Whatever argument he’s so clearly longing to have at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night? Fine. He can have it. If it means he backs off for good, you’ll give him his one last ruck.

You pull the window open none too gently and lean enough through it that Chan comes into view. He isn’t even looking up, you realise, too busy sifting through the driveway trying to find his next little projectile, and you hiss his name to get his attention. It startles him so much that he drops the indiscernible bundle in his right hand. He blindly scrambles to pick it up, those big, earnest eyes gazing at you as if you’re floating in midair before him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask him, trying not to raise your voice too loud but at the same time, needing to generate enough volume for him to hear. He holds the bundle in both hands, now, and they catch the light of the lamp by your front door. Flowers, you register, squinting to try and make them out, your brows furrowing so much that your forehead hurts. 

Black dahlias.

You choke back a laugh. Ah, the joys of fooling around with the son of a florist. Are they all so damn dramatic? (Or does he just know that they’re your favourites?)

Whichever it is, you tell yourself that’s not going to work. You won’t let it. Through gritted teeth, you say, “go away. I’m serious. I’ll call the cops on you.”

He shakes his head, begging as he steps just a little closer so his face is more visible in the amber light too. “Please–” he hurries, biting his bottom lip. “Please, don’t– just… tell me what I did. I want to make it right. Please.”

He never begs like this. In all the time you’ve known him, you swear Chan has said ‘please’ to you fewer times than you could count on your fingers. Which is by no means a bad thing — that’s just always been the very comfortable nature of your friendship, and later, the -with-benefits tag that you ended up sticking on the end. 

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and fighting not to shiver in the cold nighttime air. Note to self: don’t do a Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the fucking winter without layering up, first. “What does it even matter?”

“What do you mean, what does it matter?” He asks, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hands, then back at you. “I-... you know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. Please, just… if I did something–”

“There’s someone else,” you echo, fed up with his pretending. He’s a fair actor, you’ll give him that – he might even have been able to convince you, if you hadn’t already heard the other half of this tale he’s doing his best to spin in his favour. 

His face screws up, thinking he’s misheard. It’s his turn not to understand now. If you’re telling him you’ve met someone else, he’s got questions, because you’d promised to be open and honest with each other if that ever happened, so that you could call things off and go back to being just friends without it becoming a big deal. That was always supposed to be a calm conversation, not… whatever this is. You talked about it, right at the start. But… those are the words you’re saying, aren’t they? And why would you be mad at him if you were the one whose circumstances had changed? 

“What?” he asks, finally. “What do you mean?”

“God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen. Besides, there’s… someone else!” You raise your voice without really meaning to, before swallowing hard and glancing back inside your room. “You said that, Chan. Don’t piss me off by coming here and pretending like you didn’t.”

Chan starts to look like he’s trying to figure out an algebraic equation in his head while only having half the required information; his eyes fall down to the gravel, his lips move without any sound coming out of them, his features tighten until there are definite lines between his eyebrows. Then, it clicks. The lightbulb moment. He slaps one hand to his face and shakes his head furiously, and you just know he’s going to wake up with an ache in his neck tomorrow because of it.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. “No, no, no, no, no – that’s not–”

“What did I just say?” You spit down at him. “Don’t piss me off–”

“Listen!” He shouts, and you gesture with your hand for him to lower his voice, interrupting his flow of thought and rendering him silent for a moment. “Fuck, please. Come down here and talk to me. That’s not what you think it is.”

You’re in every mind to slam your window shut and leave him out there in the cold. It would work if you got out your headphones to drown out the sounds of him trying to get your attention, which you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that he would do. And maybe then he’d get the hint; maybe then he would understand that you’re not just some pushover who he can just pick up and play with when it suits him. 

But he’s still holding those fucking flowers like they’re a lifeline, still looking up at you without a single lick of anger on his face. Not stress at having been discovered, which you would have expected him to be swimming in right about now. He looks… kind of beside himself, as if nothing could possibly be worse than what you’re threatening to do.

All this, for you? It just doesn’t make sense. 

“Please,” he says again, quieter, weaker. For the first time, you pick up on the hint of a shiver in his voice, and you swallow. Whether you’re gulping back your pride, or your resolve, or the last remnants of your sensibility, you don’t know. 

Does he deserve for you to hear him out? You’re not sure.

But does he deserve to be stuck out in the cold in just his stupid leather jacket and a pair of jeans? 

With regret, you think, no. He doesn’t.

All you give him is a scowl before you disappear from view entirely, pulling the window closed and drawing your curtains again. Faster than you think you ever have before, you throw on a sweatshirt over your pyjamas, grab your keys, and hurry down the stairs as silently as you possibly can. 

He’s stood in exactly the same place when you edge outside and pull the door closed behind you. Up-close, you can see the tiredness on his face: this is a man who has exhausted himself in worry, you think, and yet he still smiles a little when he sees you in full. He still holds the flowers out for you to take. He still purses his lips and blows out a stuttered cloud of air. Nervous, and not in the way you think he ought to be. So when you walk straight past him and don’t take the dahlias out of his hands, instead standing by his car and waiting for him to unlock it for you, you start to feel overwhelmingly guilty. 

Chan is many, many… many things. But he really isn’t this good of a performer, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself all week. For God’s sake, why is it so much easier to be angry at him when he’s not standing right in front you?

You slip into his passenger side as he fumbles to set the flowers down on his backseat again, and he joins you up front just a few moments later. His hands are shaking when he sets the keys into the ignition. His whole body is. When you cast a real look over at him, the tips of his fingers are pale and his lips are lacking their usual rosy, pink hue. Your own teeth are chattering despite only having been truly exposed to the cold air for a matter of seconds; you dread to think how frozen he must be.

“Are we driving?” You ask to break the silence. Since he got into the car and fiddled with the heating settings to try and warm things up a little, he hasn’t said a word. It’s awkward. It’s horrible. You already miss the comfortable way you’ve been able to sit for hours together, barely talking, just watching the lights of the city and the cars travelling through it. 

You already miss him. Which is a strange thought, seeing as he’s only about ten inches away. 

“If– if you want,” he says, stuttering through the frost in his lungs. “We can go—...”

“Drive, Chan,” you say. It’s not just because you want him to stop falling over his words – which, to be fair, you do. Chan has always been very confident, carrying himself with the air of someone who knows exactly their worth. It’s one of the things you treasure about him. So this? Is fucking weird. But a big part of it is that you know his car will heat up faster if it’s in motion, and right now, you think maybe he’s at risk of losing a finger or two if he doesn’t get some circulation back.

He steps on the gas and the car pulls away from your home. It’s the first time you’ve ever been in his car without there being some sort of music playing, whether that’s historically just been the radio or a tape he put together with the help of one of his older friends. (The tapes that always had your first initial on them. The tapes that he never failed to ask your opinions on when he dropped you home – as if he’d compiled them with only you in mind.) The silence feels jarring and you can hear every rumble of the engine, every squeal of the brakes he definitely needs to get serviced. 

But the car does warm through, and you sigh out relief as the bones in your hands move a little easier, as your fingers curl and uncurl to less resistance from your taut muscles. Chan feels it, too; his body relaxes, his breaths stop coming out in fractions, his face gets some colour back. The timing feels a little less awful when you finally say, “go on, then.”

Chan glances over at you as he drives down an unlit street. Only for a second, like he’s checking you’re still there, before his eyes train back on the road. He’s going to one of your favourite spots. It isn’t a lookout – it’s somewhere completely shut off from the rest of town, hidden by the trees near the railway tracks, somewhere you’ve never had to worry about being seen or heard. Maybe he’s anticipating a screaming match. Maybe he’s expecting something else. Maybe, even, he just cares about how much you love it there. 

“I didn’t know you heard that conversation,” he starts, sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, reach over and thump him, ask if that makes what he said okay, but you don’t. You stay looking out the front windscreen too. Waiting. “I… all right. I was out of my ass drunk.”

You click your tongue, pressing it afterwards against the inside of your cheek, but again, you stay quiet.

“I don’t think you heard what you thought you heard, though,” he goes on to say. “‘Cause– ‘cause it wasn’t…”

But you can only be quiet for so long in the face of this mess. Especially when he’s apparently working towards a doctorate in beating around the fucking bush. “I heard you tell your friends that it was never gonna happen with ‘movie girl’.”

Chan’s face brightens, and you can’t help but wonder what on Earth is wrong with this man. Why does he find that funny? Why is his chest moving like he’s trying not to laugh?

“And you… thought you were movie girl,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Okay – shit. I’m sorry.”

You look at him properly, now, as he indicates to the right and takes the turn that leads him down the lane to your spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I get it,” he says. “You work at the–... but you’re not movie girl. Not that movie girl.”

“Stop talking in riddles before I get out of this car, Chan. It’s too late for this shit.”

He holds a hand up as if to apologise and settles back against the head cushion, suddenly looking far more comfortable than he did thirty seconds ago. He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lips, before sucking in a breath and letting himself go on.

“You’re not movie girl,” he says again, successfully clarifying nothing. “There’s this chick I used to dance with — years back, before… God, when we were in school, like, forever ago. She moved away when we were sixteen.” As he talks, he reaches your destination and sets the car into park, before he unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face you. You do the same, shifting your weight to tuck one leg up beneath you, and with your undivided attention, he goes on. “I ran into her recently. She’s back in town now, I guess. It was like, two weeks—?”

“I’m gonna be all-over grey by the time you finish telling this story,” you interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Can you please give me the short version?”

“Not if you want it to make sense,” Chan shrugs. Begrudgingly, you let him keep talking. “She said it would be cool to hang out, maybe catch a movie or do lunch or something — and look, I didn’t know she was asking me on a date, I thought she was just being nice, y’know? Trying to be friends, but… you weren’t working that day, it was when you had that… that stomach thing going on? And I brought you the soup my mom made, remember?”

You nod; of course you remember. At the time, you wondered why on Earth this grown man’s mother was making you food — you asked yourself whether he’d told her about you, or if she thought it was for someone else. In the end you decided he must have just been bringing you leftovers. But you’d been too worn out to start asking questions; instead, after you’d eaten, you let yourself fall asleep with your head in his lap as he patted your hair and hummed his favourite songs. You hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it since. 

“Anyway. We were sat watching the movie and she, uh,” he glances down at his lap, tips of his ears burning pink. “She put her hand, sorta, on my thigh? And then I was like, shit, I didn’t read this right, like… at all. So I moved it off and she took the hint — and after it ended I said to her, you know, I was flattered, right? But I wasn’t interested. And then I went home and got that soup and—… yeah.”

He came straight to see you. To look after you. Hell, you didn’t even fool around that night; in retrospect, it was all uncharacteristically domestic. And slowly, the pieces you’ve spent days struggling to fit together start to fall into place. It makes sense. The only question that remains is do you believe him?

Well, tell a lie. 

There is one more. 

“You said there was someone else,” you add quietly. 

You’ll die before you admit it, but this is secretly the part that was hurting you the most. 

You can’t even look him in the eye, right now; your cheeks are burning with the embarrassment of even caring. As much as you want to tell yourself that the only reason you’re pissed is just because of the dishonesty, you can only stare at yourself in the mirror and point-blank lie so many times. Someone else. You hate it. 

Just the thought of him seeing somebody else, taking them out on dates, smiling at them, laughing with them, kissing them the way he kisses you, touching —

A shiver runs the length of you and you cross your arms, thrusting your sleeve-covered hands under your armpits. 

Chan takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, like he’s blowing smoke out of his lungs. “There is,” he admits, nodding slowly, avoiding your eyes, too. “There is someone else.”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask. 

Chan doesn’t respond straight away. You don’t notice, but eventually his eyes do land back at you; it’s only when he clears his throat to get your attention that you look at him long enough to realise he’s quite deliberately staring. His lips are lifted on the right in a lopsided smile, his eyes soft as he reaches across the seats towards you. You stare blankly down at his hand until he wiggles his fingers, and you think briefly that this is the most fucked up ending to a situationship you’ve ever been through. 

You drop one of your hands down and let him hold it, though, staring at his face as his thumb brushes over your knuckles and you wait for him to finally say it out loud. For him to announce that he’s fallen for somebody and that he can’t see you anymore. To put the nail in the coffin. Don’t tell me their name, you think. I don’t want to know anything about them. Please, just don’t.

“For someone so frustratingly smart, you’re really fucking dumb,” Chan says, finally, swallowing around his words and squeezing your fingers. Whatever stoic expression you had forced onto your face at the start of this conversation dissolves into irritation and you snatch your hand away from him again, letting his own fall and collide with a thunk against the handbrake. 

“Oh, sorry that I didn’t realise you were sneaking around behind my back when that’s the one thing we promised we wouldn’t do,” you snap. “God. The only stupid thing I’ve done here is get involved with you in the f—”

“You’re the someone else.”

Oh. 

Oh.

“I’m—?”

“You.”

The admission hangs heavily between you, as does your nonsense, unfinished insult. Neither of you really know what to do with yourselves except sit perfectly still and try to somehow deal with your increasingly dry throats. When Chan moves, it’s only to turn down the heating dial when his cheeks burn a bit too hot; you appreciate it, in part due to the bead of sweat currently running down your back, but you don’t say so. 

“You could have started with that,” you say weakly, wrestling with all your strength to keep even some of your cards close to your chest. It’s not working though. Your attempt to conceal your elation is a bit like throwing a single leaf on top of a bison and calling it camouflage. 

Chan commits to laughing, finally, your sentiment breaking him too. Now, you do crack that smile, albeit mostly just at the sound that comes from him. It’s bright and airy, lighting his whole face up as he drops all the way back and leans against his car door, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I was trying to build to a moment! It’s not my fault you hit every branch of the anti-romantic tree on your way down.”

“I am not anti-romantic,” you scoff in protest. 

“Yes — you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Says she who didn’t realise her fuck-buddy had feelings for about six months, Jesus.”

“Chan—” You start, your voice laced with a playful warning. 

“Here I was thinking I was making it completely obvious,” he rambles on. 

“— oh my God, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Dropping hints left and r—” … “Huh?”

He stops short a fraction of a second after you finish, stumped and silent, frozen with everything but a little buffering symbol above his forehead. Kiss me, you said. Chan, […] just shut up and kiss me. All right, you’ve asked him to do that before, but not like this. Not as if you’ll wither away should you not get a taste of his lips this instant. It takes him some time to process it, but he does move in first, eventually. The way he always does, closing the distance between you like he’s been shot out of a cannon, one hand either side of your face, crashing feverishly against your mouth. 

Every now and again, he’ll be happy to let you take charge and set the pace: mostly just if he’s feeling lazy or especially generous. Tonight isn’t one of those times, however. He holds you and kisses you possessively, like you’re his, like this is how he finally gets to lay claim on you, licking between your gasp-parted lips after he moans straight into your mouth. He’s spearmint sweet, edged with that one cherry flavoured chapstick he stockpiles as he grins up against you, rolling his body fluidly with every separation for air, every changing angle. 

He pulls your sweatshirt up over your head and throws it down into the footwell on the passenger side, straight away hurrying to kiss you hungrily again, hands cupping your neck. His tongue is in your mouth once more, there’s no way you could possibly differentiate your breaths from his: you’re one, in every way you can be with your clothes still on, but it’s not enough. 

“Want you,” you whimper as he nips at your bottom lip and pleasure rushes through you from head to toe. 

“You’ve got me,” he groans with his eyes still closed. “I’m all yours.” 

“No,” you insist, whimpering when his cute little nose drags across your cheek until he’s pressing hot kisses to your jawline. “I— fuck—”  He suckles on the sweet spot below your ear and your spine tingles, head tilting to give him better access. “Chan, I want you.”

Chan settles back from you, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now darkened with desire. All he gives you is a singular glance sideways, but you know exactly what he’s suggesting. You nod, breathing deep, biting the inside of your cheek; he turns off the headlights and it’s all systems go. 

There’s a rush to scramble into the back of the car. Chan takes the keys out the ignition and climbs through the gap in the seats; you opt for the less hazardous approach of getting out of the vehicle entirely and re-entering it instead. Not that it bothers him — no sooner is the door closed behind you, Chan’s hands are on your hips and he pulls you on top of him, your leg knocking the dahlias off the leather and onto the floor in the process. You gasp and glance down but he averts your attention with two fingers under your chin, guiding you to look back at him. 

“What? You think this is the last time I’ll bring you flowers?” He asks, capturing your lips as he leans up to you; at the same time, his hands drop low and he starts to slide open the buttons down the front of your pyjama shirt. “Baby, m’gonna get you so many more.” 

You sigh at the affectionate name, at the change in its use; until now, Chan has only called you baby while he’s buried inside you, bruising you inside and out with sharp thrusts and rough-gripping fingers. But as much as you can feel him growing hard against the inside of your thigh while you try to get comfortable, one knee planted either side of his hips, you can’t help but feel as if this time, it means something different. 

(He’s had feelings for six months: it always meant what it does, now. You know that, deep down.)

Somewhere in amongst the never-ending sloppy kisses and constantly travelling hands, you manage to strip both his jacket and T-shirt off him and you’re pressed bare-chest-to-bare-chest with Chan, feeling every little hitch of his breath in his lungs, every thump of his heartbeat, every tiny increase in the temperature of his skin. Your desperate search for friction between your legs has you rolling your hips down against his hard-on, drawing grunts and making him squeeze at your tits when you rock against him the right way. His head eventually drops to your chest and he replaces one hand with his mouth, freeing his fingers to slide down the front of your pyjama bottoms. 

It’s honestly rarer for Chan to get straight to the point than it is for him to tease you a little first, so when he flattens his palm against you and brushes his fingertips over your already aching clit, you let out a squeak of surprise. He shivers, releasing your nipple from between his teeth for a moment; once he’s collected a little more arousal to ease the friction, he continues to rub at the bud, slowly building the pressure inside you.

“No panties?” He asks, struggle clear in the roughness of his voice. 

“I was in bed,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. It’s for the best that it happens out of pleasure, really, because you’re not sure you’d be able to stop yourself rolling them in exasperation at his remark otherwise. You shuffle a little, lifting yourself up on your knees more, breath hitching when he uses the newly granted space to dip his hand lower and press a finger against your hole. “Please, Chan — this can’t be comfy— just…”

“S’fine” he argues, shaking his head, despite the fact that the angle of his wrist is actually kind of painful, right now. The truth is that he can’t bring himself to care: not when he can smell your fabric softener on the shirt still hanging off your shoulders, the shampoo in your freshly washed hair, all so pretty mixed with the damp scent of your desire. Not when you clench around him as he slides his finger in and out of your cunt. Not when he could get you to soak all the way through these pretty satin pants. 

Your arms snake around his neck as he dips a second finger inside you to join the first. The way your thighs tighten around his hips could — should — be embarrassing, the fact his sturdy lap holds you open enough for your pussy to be toyed with even more so. You almost always do this too music, too — for what might be the first time ever, you can hear every single wet sound your body makes, every hitch of your own breath, every grunt he gives even though he’s not the one being pleasured. 

You don’t even realise how you’re rocking up and down against his hand until Chan licks from the base of your neck to your jaw, smirking over your pulse point and says, “gonna ride my cock this good too, baby?”

And if it was anyone else talking to you like this, you would be embarrassed. Mortified, at being so needy you’re here doing all the work for him. At the cry you give as he splits and scissors his fingers to stretch you out. But instead? You feel another rush of arousal drool out of you as you press your nails into his shoulders and nod, bouncing harder and watching how his bicep tenses up solid with the effort of keeping his arm steady for you to use. 

“Wanna,” you gasp. “Want it so bad, Chan—”

Despite your pleas for this to move further, when his hand pulls back out of the elastic of your waistband, you feel like you could throttle him. The urge ebbs away when his soaked fingers press to your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you, though — you end up suckling them clean, licking up every trace of your own slick. You lock eyes with him as you do, slumping on your thighs so your drenched core sits right over his tweaking length, the seam of your pants giving just enough friction to your clit for it to feel good as you grind down on him again. 

“Get those off,” he instructs, trying to sound hard and dominant. Which would work, perhaps, if his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. “Now.”

Even though you’re overcome with a need to tease him, the desire you have to be split open on his length outweighs it, so you do as you’re told and hold it in for later. It’s not easy, but you manage to manipulate yourself in his lap to work the satin down your thighs and past your knees. He helps you tug them the rest of the way past your ankles and feet, shoves them onto the floor — Chan’s hands settle back on your hips and yours skim down his stomach at the same time, fingers grazing over the little hairs that trail from his bellybutton down into his jeans. 

“Can I?” You ask, playing already with his belt buckle. 

He hums assent and you slip it all the way open, tugging as he moves his hips underneath you so you can pull it free from the loops. Between you, you manage to get his jeans unfastened, to pull both them and his boxer shorts down over his ass and to his knees; finally, fucking finally, his cock sits pretty and leaking and free between your stomach and his. It’s getting cold in the car now the heating isn’t on, but you’re already burning up in anticipation for him to ruin you; the way his abs ripple as he takes his shaft into his hand and strokes himself a couple of times to prepare tells you he’s in the same boat. 

It’s like clockwork, from here. You shift into position as easily as you settle into bed after a long day. Chan rubs his tip through your folds, feels the warmth of you and hisses through his teeth with fluttering eyes. Just like always. This never changes. He can’t ever get enough of that first feeling of his cock against your pussy: it’s like the first hit of a blunt, like the first sip of a cold beer, the first full-body stretch early in the morning. He’s sure it’s what arriving at the gates of heaven must feel like. 

You sink down onto him slowly, fluttering around his tip and stilling to give you both a moment to get used to the feeling. He’s thick inside you. Thicker than his pretty, dainty fingers have ever been able to stretch you enough for. Even as wet as you are, you still need to suck a deep breath into your lungs before you can relax your hips further and let your heat swallow him all the way to his base. 

Chan’s head is tipped back in pleasure, he’s biting his lip at the sting of your nails pressing hard into the back of his neck. He loves it, though — loves how the pain shoots in waves down his spine, how it tingles in his brain, how he knows you need to anchor yourself this way or you’ll lose control. He kneads at your ass as you sit against his thighs, listening to you whimpering at how deep he is inside you.

“So fucking tight around me still,” Chan groans, focusing all his willpower into keeping his hips down on the leather beneath him. “Shit, baby — you feel so good…” His neck softens and his head drops forward again as you start to move, rising and falling over and over. He kisses your throat and down to your collarbones while you work up to a rhythm, sliding his palms up your back, hugging you close to him. 

He isn’t even the one putting in the hard work, but within minutes of this, his soft, fluffy hair clings to his forehead. A light sheen of sweat makes him radiant under the moonlight breaking through the trees. He’s breathing heavily, the top of his toned chest painted a soft pink — you don’t think he could possibly look prettier. Not until he cups your jaw with his hands and you look upwards: you land on his smiling face, those plush, swollen lips, his devilish but sweetly glittering eyes. The sight of him, looking at you like you’re some kind of Goddess, makes your pussy tighten and your tiring hips stutter. You slip your pyjama top all the way off your arms and curl your fingers into his hair, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss, through which you’re both just beaming. 

You’ve never kissed him this much. When it all started out, you sort of had a rule against it, but now? Neither of you can stop. As he starts to fuck up into you, taking the reins and letting your burning thighs rest, he keeps your face steady with his hands and freely allows his lips to slide against yours. It’s not refined. It can’t be. Not with how hard and fast his movements quickly become, not with the onslaught of curses and moans and babbled praise coming from the both of you. One particularly sharp thrust makes you yelp out a squeak of his name and he just swallows it down, making a point to keep aiming for— and hitting— that same spot inside you. You’re a mess. 

He could do this all night. When your orgasm bubbles inside you and he starts pinching at one of your nipples, sending you over the edge, he’s nowhere near finished. Even though your cunt massages at his length, throbbing and pulsing through your climax; even though your voice is so high by now that only dogs can hear you; even though you nearly collapse on top of him with almost all your weight in his lap, and he has to work twice as hard to keep this going, he barely slows. He definitely doesn’t stop. 

“You can gimme one more, right sweetheart?” He asks, grunting into your neck. “Always feels so fucking good when you come.” You choke up an ‘mhm’, to which he responds by slipping a hand between your bodies and down to where you’re connected. His thumb presses against your clit again — not moving, just applying enough pressure to make you stutter when you say his name. 

Your thighs are still twitching when you try to lift yourself a little, try to meet his movements as he chases his orgasm too. The “problem” with Chan is that his stamina is otherworldly. You couldn’t keep up if you wanted to. 

“Relax,” he says, tensing his jaw, doing the opposite himself. “Fuck — lie down.”

It’s pretty cramped and hard to move, but you lift yourself off him and only slightly lament at the sudden emptiness between your legs. There isn’t time to get too upset, however: moments after you get comfortable on your back, Chan shoves his jeans the rest of the way down and stands with one knee planted on the seats, lifting one of your ankles up to rest it on his shoulder. He slips back inside you easily then, gripping around your calf to keep you both steady. From the word go, his pace is relentless. You scrabble around for something to hold onto but the entire car seems to melt away; you ball your hands into fists at your sides instead, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“Mm-mm. Look at me,” Chan hums, tightening his grip on your leg. “Wanna see those pretty eyes.” 

You obey, opening your lids to look up at him while he pounds into you hard enough to make the car shake. Over, and over, and over, and over. Rougher. Faster. For how long? Who even knows. All you’re truly aware of is how good it feels. How the windows grow foggy with the  steam of your laboured breaths. How his sweat mingles with your own. 

When his fingers on the other hand get reacquainted with your clit, when he bites down on his bottom lip, when his thrusts start to get messier and more erratic and the veins in his arms start to bulge out, you know he’s getting close. He doesn’t need to tell you out loud. The smirk he wears speaks for itself. 

“Where d’you want it, baby?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle. 

“In— mmh, in-…side me—” you stammer, hips jolting as you near your second orgasm to match his first. “Please, Chan — want it all…”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah—”

Well, he must’ve been holding himself back something spectacular, because a few thrusts later you watch all of his muscles contract as he tips over the edge, and you go hurtling with him. It’s all so much. All your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and your vision starts to blur at the edges; it’s not long before you have to close your eyes to shut one of your overworked senses out, completely. Your muscles are sore. Your throat hurts. Even your lungs ache. 

God, he hasn’t gone that hard in so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can barely speak — it’s going to take you a week to recover from this, minimum. 

He stills deep inside you, feeling his cock throb with the last pumps of his release. Your leg slips off his shoulder and your foot lands down with a thud onto the car’s (thankfully clean) floor; he bends forward to kiss you, still breathing heavily against your lips. You’ve come over completely boneless and reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair again feels like running a marathon at sprint pace. You’d fall asleep right here, right now, if you could, but with sweat cooling rapidly against your skin, you know that’s probably not up there as one of your finest ideas. 

“You really think getting involved with me was stupid?” Chan asks, nudging your nose with the tip of his own. He’s never been less serious than this in his entire life, which stops you feeling too bad when you lightly slap at his rock solid chest and try to push him off you.

“Yes,” you lie, attempting to reach to the ground for your pyjama shirt while he grips your chin and attacks you with tiny little pecks all over your face. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

(Chan chuckles to himself and thinks that he’s quite happy to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, really. He can stay that way, as long as you promise never to stop.)

thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it - likes, feedback, comments, reblogs are all so appreciated.<3

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Catherine Deneuve (Belle de Jour, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, The Young Girls of Rochefort)—Say what you will about the French but they really went off with Catherine Deneuve

Setsuko Hara (Tokyo Story, Late Spring, The Idiot)— "'The only time I saw Susan Sontag cry,' a writer once told me, his voice hushed, 'was at a screening of a Setsuko film.' What Setsuko had wasn’t glamour—she was just too sensible for that—it was glow, one that ebbed away and left you concerned, involved. You got the sense that this glow, like that of dawn, couldn’t be bought. But her smiles were human and held minute-long acts, ones with important intermissions. When she looked away, she absented herself; you felt that she’d dimmed a fire and clapped a lid on something about to spill. Over the last decade, whenever anyone brought up her lips—'Setsuko’s eternal smile,' critics said, that day we learned that she’d died—I thought instead of the thing she made us feel when she let it fall." - Moeko Fujii

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Catherine Deneuve propaganda:

"One of the greatest european actresses of all time. Famous for portraying 'aloof and mysterious beauties', she could play both the innocent and adorable and the cold and erotic parts. She was so beautiful she was chosen to be the face of Marianne, France's national symbol."

"She was a French movie star famous for icy and aloof roles and worked with some of the greatest international directors in the world (Jacques Demy, Luis Buñuel, and François Truffaut to name a few). She could kill you with her gaze and her bone structure should be studied by painters"

"One of the most famous of French actresses that has grace the film screen. She is just stunning and beautiful."

Setsuko Hara:

One of the best Japanese actresses of all time; a symbol of the golden era of Japanese cinema of the 1950s After seeing a Setsuko Hara film, the novelist Shūsaku Endō wrote: "We would sigh or let out a great breath from the depths of our hearts, for what we felt was precisely this: Can it be possible that there is such a woman in this world?"

One of the greatest Japanese actresses of all time!! Best known for acting in many of Yasujiro Ozu's films of the 40s and 50s. Also she has a stunning smile and beautiful charm!

Linked gifset

Linked gifset 2

She's considered by some to be the greatest Japanese actress of all time! In Kurosawa's The Idiot she haunts the screen, and TOTALLY steals the show from Mifune every time she appears.

"No other actor has ever mastered the art of the smile to the same extent as Setsuko Hara (1920–2015), a celebrated star and highly regarded idol who was one of the outstanding actors of 40s and 50s Japanese cinema. Her radiant smile floods whole scenes and at times cautiously undermines the expectations made of her in coy, ironic fashion. Yet her smile's impressive range also encompasses its darker shades: Hara's delicate, dignified, melancholy smile with which she responds to disappointments, papers over the emotions churning under the surface, and flanks life's sobering realizations. Her smiles don't just function as a condensed version of her ever-precise, expressive, yet understated acting ability, they also allow the very essence of the films they appear in to shine through for a brief moment, often studies of the everyday, post-war dramas which revolve around the break-up of family structures or the failure of marriages. Her performances tread a fine line between social expectation and personal desire in post-war Japan, as Hara attempts to lay claim to the autonomy of the female characters she plays – frequently with a smile." [link]

Leading lady of classic Japanese cinema with a million dollar smile

Maybe the most iconic Japanese actress ever? She rose to fame making films with Yasujiro Ozu, becoming one of the most well-known and beloved actresses in Japan, working from the 30s through the 60s in over 100 hundred. She is still considered one of the greatest Japanese actresses ever, and in my opinion, just one of the greatest actresses of all time. And she was HOT! Satoshi Kon's film Millennium Actress was largely based on her life and her career.

[mangoofthesea]

I saw a post today talking about how difficult making friends can be, as well as maintaining friendships, and as someone who has spent the last few years learning how to maintain friendships while moving a couple times and some big life events. One of the best things you can do for a friendship is organise to do THINGS.

Not just meet and talk or chat over message. Arrange to go swimming, or for a row boat ride, cook dinner together, try making clay creatures and laugh at how bad they are. Go to see a play or a singer or a waterfall.

Sit on a call together in silence while you crochet or watch something at the same time in different locations.

Or while you both draw or do dishes and say the random questions that come to mind 'do you think aliens could exist?' 'How can you tell when you're in love?' 'There’s a really cool bird out the window I think you'd like it, it's all blue and green!'

The key is to not try to keep the friendship for the sake of it, but enjoy the Person and their company

Maintaining of a friendship over time requires effort, but also acceptance that you won't speak or see each other all the time. My 3 best friends are all from different phases of life and I have had periods of months or years where I didn’t speak to them just because we had shifted how much we saw each other.

You see them when you see them, you speak when you speak, but you'll find people who with even a tiny amount of effort (a birthday gift, a card, a meme sent, a message or a gif) you can hold onto. People who mean the world to you even though you only see them a could times a year.

I once heard the phrase that friends are like stars, even when you don't see them, they're still there.

Friendships that truly mean something aren't like sitcoms or movies. Life is more complicated and people are too, don't feel bad if your friendships don't match up to what you expect, or if you can't be there all the time.

All things considered, I'm a pretty shit friend sometimes, I forget birthdays and I'm useless to get hold of sometimes. But on either side of friendships that I have, we both make enough of an effort that they're still there.

I'm going to the cinema tomorrow with a friend I've had since I was 11 (or 13 depending how we've decided to measure it that day) and I haven't seen in person in nearly a year. We're still going to have a great time.

Your friendship takes whatever form works for you, don't lose sight of the people you love cos the way you love them doens’t look like 'it's supposed to'

[meraki-yao]

Watching Agatha All Along again after giving up on Marvel for three years made me think about why I gave it up in the first place.

I was so deep in the MCU. I cried so much during Infinity War that I struggled to walk out of the cinema. I watched Endgame on the first day that it was released. My diary was a CACW notebook. Part of the reason I took up STEM subjects was because of Marvel.

And then after watching MoM in theatres, I stopped.

I'm trying to phrase and figure out what made me give up something I was so invested in, something I loved so much. I think I know why.

The MCU period I was active in gave me characters that I ended up loving, and the later period took them away.

My two favourite characters were ruined. Their character arcs and core characters undone. I'm worried about my favourite too.

I hate it when the sequel undermines the previous works.

When I think of Steve Rogers, I don't think of the guy who chose to either fuck up the entire timeline of the MCU or sat quietly and watch the world in turmoil, his allies die tragically, and his best friend left to a fate worst than dead to get with a girl he wasn't even dating, a woman who had a life of her own and moved on.

I think of Steve from CATWS, the guy from Brooklyn who still does the right thing in a time when morals are blurred. The Steve who is kind, compassionate and brave. The Steve who inspired the base-level employees of SHEILD to follow his example and not bow down in the face of tyranny. The Steve who just had one mission, and that was standing up to bullies.

When I think of Wanda, I don't think of the insane, manic witch/evil goddess who killed thousands mercilessly even though there was a harmless solution, who after all she lost, somehow only wanted her children who she had for three days instead of also her love and her twin.

I think of Wanda, the girl who lost it all, who's family was all killed, who was denied a burial for Vision, who was left alone and abandoned in the world, with so much love in her heart that no longer had a place, a person to go to. The girl who feels so much so deeply that it bended reality. The girl who had to learn, who had to give up her dream, but did so, because at the end of the day, she is a kind person, who doesn't want to hurt people. She was wrong, she takes time to understand and accept the harm she's caused (as we all do), and then makes it right. She tries to be good. Despite everything, she tries.

The later stages of MCU took these two characters that mean so much to me personally, and ruined them.

And I'm fucking mad at them, because it disrespected all the work that made me love them in the first place, and it was preventable. (The original script for MoM where Wanda helps Strange but repeatedly gets tempted by the Darkhold is a much more convincing narrative.)

And I'd say the same applies to others: Natasha, Thor, Bruce, even Strange (although I feel like they never really figured out what they wanted to do with Strange's character)

I miss my characters, I miss my MCU.

[deramin2]

Holy shit!

National Anthem (2023) is such an incredible movie on so many levels.

It's about a 21 year old kid working odd jobs who ends up working on a queer ranch in New Mexico, falling in love with a trans woman, and getting into queer rodeos.

It's also about the struggle to break away from a life where it feels like he and his family are going nowhere and nothing can change. But it can. When they let themselves try new things and want things change is possible. And folks keep changing and growing and becoming new versions of themselves.

I don't want to spoil anything, but it has so much to say about relationships that are just completely missing from most media. Complex family dynamics, polyamory, queer communes, rural queer communities, how love isn't lesser if circumstances changes, and more. I fucking love queer cinema.

Plus, it's so fucking cool to see a guy have his queer awakening through falling in love with a trans woman and also there be zero conflict about that. She's dimply the hottest coolest women he's ever seen.

Also loved the little brother. Love how he was always making the best of his situations through learning and inquiry so meeting queer people was just more fun facts about the way the world can be. Love his response to finding out about nonbinary people.

You can really tell the director spent years photographing and documenting queer rodeos before cowriting the film. It feels like an Anthony Hurd painting come to life. You can reality tell they're drawing from the same vibrant culture.

Content Warnings:

Animal death

Homophobia/transphobia (implied more than shown except one scene where something mean is said.)

[rainbowlapisart]

Now that time has passed I wanna share my thoughts on Deadpool and Wolverine as a film, though I will preface by saying it isn't very positive... also, I admit I was high in the theaters watching this, so please treat this post like what it is: just an opinion.

The opening dance sequence was of course amazing, though there was some noticeable CGI. And I think the concept alone of Deadpool literally digging up Logan's grave is a hilarious way to start the movie.

Unfortunately Deadpool feels lamer and more like an asshole in this one. Especially after his character development in the last film I just can't see him desperately wanting to join the Avengers of all teams. Nando v Movies mentioned this but what the hell even is the Avengers now? And why is Happy in charge of who gets let in? And why wouldn't they let Wade in? Yeah he's gross and crass but he has special forces training and is nigh-unkillable. Y'all let Hawkeye in but not Deadpool?

The setup is interesting though I can't fully get behind the idea of anchor beings-- and the further idea that their death leads to "associated" universes collapsing as well as theirs? I don't know, it comes off as "yeah we have all these other characters you care about but Wolverine is the important one so they'd die without him", which is kind of an insult to those characters and that universe.

I admit, I was never big on Wolverine as a character, I always thought he was cool as hell but the only movie of his I've seen was Logan, which was awesome. So I admit that it may just be a case of the movie wasn't meant for me, but still I am a Deadpool fan so of course I'm gonna see this anyways. Super glad we got a good suit for him but I wish we didn't have to wait until the very end for him to put the cowl on.

The Johnny Storm/Captain America tease and bit was really funny I will say. Personally I was too stoned to get the joke at first, I honest to god thought he was just Chris Evans, but now that I've sobered up the misdirect is really funny.

Deadpool is directly responsible for getting Johnny Storm killed. I know Deadpool is a murderer and maybe I shouldn't give a shit about this, but it just feels like an unlikable thing for him to do. Like... that's a guy. That's a hero. It's not like he was being an ass to Wade or anything, he was an ally to the two and got killed for no good reason.

There was barely any screentime for the side characters that were some of the best parts of the first films. After Deadpool 2 I was really excited to see the X-Force working together in the next movie. The dynamic between Wade, Cable, and Domino are really fun and I think this Wolverine would've fit right in. It feels like a missed opportunity to not have the X-Force be the team to help fight Cassandra.

Speaking of, how about those cameos? I never watched Elektra or Blade so these kind of meant nothing for me. I watched this with my dad and he got pretty excited. Laura doesn't really do anything that memorable other than talk to Logan, and of course Channing Tatum's Gambit is the best character in all of cinema. Completely and utterly obsessed with him and I need a trilogy about him immediately.

I didn't love Wolverine's whole "letting his universe down" thing. It gets hyped up so much then when we learn what happened it was a bit underwhelming. I just can't see a universe where the X-Men are taken down by a mob of humans.

I laughed my ass off lots of times. "The Proposal. :)", "Suck it Fox, I'm going to Disneyland", "There's only ever gonna be one Blade", "He has risen, babygirl!", and pretty much everything out of Nicepool.

In general it kinda feels like it's regressing what was so good about Deadpool 1 and 2. It also feels like it's more for fans of the Fox Marvel movies than Deadpool fans. I hope that since this movie is "Deadpool and Wolverine" that means we can get a more proper Deadpool 3 in the future that brings back those who I missed dearly.

[missbluesunflowersstuff]

Some Tim Drake headcanon

I did some headcanon based in canon stuff and also random things, this is more around the batkids and Tim. Please respect

Tim likes to think of himself as a street smarth, but he's not. He is academically smarth, but not a street smart kid (he grew up in a mansion with several servants, even though he is hella neglected, he wouldn't know how to survive on the streets of Gotham in the same way that Jason, Duke, Dick)

(ok I noticed some confusion with my worlds here, then Tim Drake is a child from Gotham, his way of surviving there is a little different from his brother but he still would figure it out. That's what I was saying, thanks for the comprehension)

whenever Tim needs someone to talk to he looks for Dick, he knows that Dick will listening to him and his older brother will also give him useful advice/ help him solve the problem

He's afraid of having redhead fever from his older brothers (Dick being friend with Babs, Wally, Kor'i and Roy and Jason being friend with Artemis, Roy and Kor'i), not in a romantic way or anything, he just doesn't know how to explain how Dick and Jason attract so many redheaded friends

He fears info dumping someone when he talks; Duke once commented that he liked the smell of rain when it rained on very hot days, and Tim began to explain that this was due to a fungus. Duke just listened silently and then shy smiled. And only later did Tim think he had ruined the peaceful moment, as he noticed how Duke and Cass lay quietly enjoying the rain...

His relationship with Steph isn't that complicated, they dated in the past, but nowadays they both try their best to remain good friends

He tries to plan several cute dates with Bernard, but he always ends up overthinking so he chooses the simplest route, cinema and burgers (Kon and Bart helped him choose this as perfect date)

When Tim is having problems with Bruce, he always turns to Dick, knowing that his older brother will help him with whatever he needs

Tim regrets the beginning between him and Damian, not just the assassination attempts, but Tim didn't try to trust Damian and always accused Damian's people of being bad and had an offense towards Damian's origins (both were wrong, Damian in his trauma stuff and I dislike how "his people are evil" that DC wrote at that time)

He is secretly afraid of someone discovering the bomb in Nanda Parbat, yes there were murderers there, but it was a city that also had civilians there and as a hero he shouldn't put the lives of innocent people at risk (why does DC keep writing him like that???)

There are actually several theories in Gotham about why he doesn't age, some say he's a vampire and others say he bathes in the blood of innocents, no one knows who start these theories (Dick blames Jason, Jason blames Damian, Damian blames Steph, Steph blames Bernard and Kon and Bart blames each others)

his worst nightmare is being the only survivor of his entire family (again)

Loneliness can hurt him in ways no villain could, being alone can drive him crazy. Therefore, unlike his brothers (who can work alone), Tim tries his best to work in teams

Because Bruce and Tim were born into a rich house, they are out of touch with normal stuff sometimes

he really enjoys listening to Bernard's theories and sometimes encourages him with something stupid

Tim likes to think that If his mother were alive she would like Bernard

Tim is the only one in the family who shows concern about Damian's addiction to adopting animals, afraid that it will turn into something similar to Bruce

Tim learned a lot about motorcycles because he thought it would be a good topic to talk about with Jason

Tim has and listens to his emo playlist

Even when he hates loneliness, he can disappear for a while, either because he wants someone to look for him or because of something Bruce said. When this happend, he usually comes back when he is tired of being alone or someone go look for him (man this is pretty sad...let me write something...)

There was a time when he disappeared for a while, he hid in a safehouse outside the country and when he started to wonder if anyone would miss him the door was shut down, Damian, Jon and a girl in a white mask that he didn't recognize entered

"tt if I knew you weren't in danger I would have feared more" "what?" "come on, get on the Goliath, we have to go home" "did something happen?" "Batcow. Cows have a circle of friends and they can get depressed if a friend disappears

Ok Tim knew about cows due to Kon living on a farm, but he was extremely confused about being kidnapped rescued by Damian, Jon and Nobody just because the kids were worried about the Batcow mental health

Coming back was strange, since Bruce didn't even notice he was gone, but soon he felt Alfred the cat rubbing against him, Titus licking his hand and the cow mooing at him, Tim was a little happier to come back (I'm not good to write fluffly you guys are struck with this)

Nowadays Tim is very smug because he was the first of the brothers to fly in Goliath

Some batkid headcanon: Damian || Duke || Cassandra || Stephanie || Tim || Jason || Dick

[astroyongie]

gojo NSFW alphabet pls <33

A To Z Analysis : NSFW

Gojo

(you deserve better king)

A = Aftercare 

He isn't the best at aftercare but he does truly try. like if his partner also enjoyed it, he will put effort into pleasing them. if they aren't into it he will likewise dispense the whole process 

B = Body part 

without lying on himself, he is proud of his waist and his booty. like he likes how he is shaped down there. On his partner his favorite body part is mostly the lower back area as well and legs!

C = Cum 

He isn't messy with it. Gojo is the type to like using condoms and to make it clean, or like he releases in a strategic place (lower backs) and use his clothing to wipe it off 

D = Dirty secret

He probably wants to try pegging or something, but he is too scared that he hasn't found the right partner to do so. 

E = Experience 

He has some experience, yes! isn't the one who slept the most around but he is the type of person that has learned a lot from his partner and that experience was enough to make him a good receiver and giver 

F = Favorite position 

i would say he likes both doggy style so he can have access to his partner’s backside, but he also likes one leg (or two) over his shoulders to allow more depth 

G = Goofy 

Gojo does have humor and he will bring it inside the bedroom. it often happens during the foreplay, during the teasing. He likes to use some just to get his partner’s attention. laughing and giggling 

H = Hair 

he is shaved down there, he doesn't like the hair and he prefers to keep it clean and soft skinned. he doesn't care how his partners presents themselves as long as they are comfortable 

I = Intimacy 

He doesn't need to be in love to sleep with someone, but there’s the need to have some type of chemistry between the two so he can really get into the mood. else it's just flirting and nothing else 

J = Jack off 

he doesn’t do it often, mostly when he is truly horny or stressed. he prefers the teasing and the fantasy rather than actually doing it 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

he is a simple man, he likes anal probably, like half clothed sex, grinding on each other, and very nice and seductive lingerie 

L = Location 

he likes weird places, just as closets, public bathrooms, the clubs, the cinema. sure, bedroom is nice but he likes to innovate 

M = Motivation 

He is hard to get going though. Like it’s super easy to get him in the mood for it, its easy to get him hard and all hot and bothered. but to get him to undress and perform? you need to use some skills

N = No 

he probably says no to anything that deals with sharing his partner, degradation and humiliation fantasies and experimentations 

O = Oral 

He is just as good at giving as he is good at receiving. it's always a given-giver thing. Gojo loves to do 69 positions or like to reciprocate everything that is partner does to him 

P = Pace 

Gojo is a fast yet very sensual pacer 

Q = Quickie 

probably not into it but he won’t refuse them because it helps learning and the adrenaline can be pooping too. he will do it if he really likes the person 

R = Risk 

He is willing to take risks if they are talked about before. He wont do anything risky during the deed without talking with you about it. Gojo is all okay when it comes to experimentation, he just needs to know about it first 

S = Stamina 

He isn't the person that lasts the longest (which is the reason why foreplay takes a lot of time) but he can do about two rounds if he is in the mood. 

T = Toys 

he does own toys and he will incorporate them into the session. he likes to use them on is partner but also on himself when he is truly feeling freaky 

U = Unfair 

a big ass tease. foreplay with him can become a teasing competition and he can be so unfair! like working you up and leave you needy 

V = Volume 

he is loud actually, he moans quite a lot. like.. quite a lot 

W = Wild card 

He has a bunch of nudes on his phone from both partners, ex and one night stands. and he uses it whenever he needs to rub one 

X = X-ray 

he is average, thin, not too veiny but curvy 

Y = Yearning 

moderate sex drive 

Z = Zzz

After the need he likes to stay around and talk about random things. politics, gossip, diseases. you name it and he will talk to you for two hours

[abirdie]

Gael García Bernal Doesn’t Believe in Skincare

The actor talks about Mexican coffee, his rock collection and reuniting with his Y tu Mamá También co-star Diego Luna.

From the Wall Street Journal, Oct. 14, 2024 8:00 am ET

By Lane Florsheim

(source) When Gael García Bernal landed a role in Y tu Mamá También in his early 20s, he didn’t know his career was about to take off. It was a small-budget film, and Mexican cinema had yet to break through in the American box office. 

But the steamy 2001 movie, about best friends on a road trip through Mexico, was a hit. It became one of the highest-grossing Spanish-language films in the U.S. And it anointed García Bernal and his costar, Diego Luna, as leading men.

The two actors had known each other since infancy, growing up together in Mexico City. “Anything I say stays short of all the complexities of the love and the brotherhood we have for each other,” García Bernal, 45, said of Luna. Together, he said, “we learned that to make cinema, you have to misbehave a little bit, but be humble as well.”

García Bernal has gone on to star in a variety of Spanish and English projects, including The Motorcycle Diaries, Babel and the TV adaptation of Station Eleven. All the while, he and Luna have remained close collaborators. The actors run a production company together called La Corriente del Golfo. And this month, for the first time in over a decade, they’re reuniting onscreen. Their new show, La Máquina, features García Bernal as an aging boxer and Luna as his flashy, corrupt manager. 

Now available on Hulu, La Máquina is the streamer’s first original Spanish-language series. “It was about time,” García Bernal said. “We’re very happy that it’s happening like this.”

García Bernal lives in Buenos Aires and Mexico City. Here, he shares his most prized possessions, how he got into character for his latest role and advice from a Nobel laureate. 

What time do you get up on Mondays, and what’s the first thing you do after waking up?

Naturally, I wake up very early. My ancestors must have been people who worked the land. I hate when I wake up late. Sometimes I go straight to having a coffee or reading the newspaper or even, heroically, exercising. But that doesn’t happen so often because I always wake up very hungry.

What do you eat in the morning, and do you drink coffee?

Mainly fruits. In Mexico, there’s really good coffee. I do a pour-over. 

What do you do for exercise? 

I’ve been into boxing for a long time. I jump rope, go run, sometimes I hang from things. And I love playing football and baseball. 

What about skin care?

Nothing. I think it’s better actually. The washing-your-face industry has created a lot of problems for skin. I think it’s too much soap. 

How did you prepare to play the boxer Esteban in the new Hulu series? Did you model the character on any real life boxers or athletes? 

It was an amalgam of many boxers that I admire. We took a lot from all of them, but at the same time, there was something that came out, which is the boxer I have inside. It’s a bit like the clown in acting. We all have a boxer, we all have a clown. 

How would you describe your boxer?

What I found is that I’m really good at receiving punches. I think I read the ring really well. I’m able to figure out what’s going to happen, how to move around. The problem is that I run out of stamina very easily from hitting hard. Something happens after 10 punches. My punches start to become complete butter. 

Diego looks so different in this role, with his spray tan and a face that appears full of fillers. How did you keep a straight face while playing opposite him?

We had to try really hard not to laugh, but we managed. He made a big sacrifice as well. It takes a lot of time to do all of that, and it’s uncomfortable. 

There’s a great karaoke scene in the series. What’s your go-to karaoke song? 

I’m very promiscuous with my karaoke tastes. Most of the songs that I would end up singing in karaoke are older, like from the 1980s—the time of a man or a woman and a microphone. Nowadays it’s more complicated because a lot of songs have autotune.

Your characters from Y tu Mamá También, Julio and Tenoch, would be around 40 years old today. What do you think they’d be doing now?

I think maybe my character would be in government in Mexico right now. Diego’s character would be, I don’t know, a successful lawyer somewhere. I always wonder, where did they end up? Maybe because those are the characters that are closest to our upbringing as well, the closest we’ve ever been to playing ourselves. 

The movie captures so well the feeling of being young and having your entire life in front of you. How do you look back on it?

Our voices sound different. It’s actually very tender because we were very innocent. We didn’t feel like it when we were that age, but I hear us: We sound hopeful and interested and also brave and wanting to experience [life].

What’s your most prized possession? 

The notebooks I write in. The stones I gather. On every journey I make, I put stones in my bag. They weigh a lot, but I have a lot of stones. Certain photographs of my family. And there’s a football and some shoes that remind me of my childhood.

Do you have any hobbies that might surprise your fans? 

I do a lot of jumping rope, I can do a few tricks with that. I juggle. I play a lot of chess.

What’s one piece of advice you’ve gotten that’s guided you? 

José Saramago, who was a Nobel Prize winner of literature from Portugal, and I did a play together at a book fair in Guadalajara, where I’m from. I introduced him to my family. I’ve got a huge family. He was fascinated by my grandmother and the amount of kids she had and all the many, many, many people in my family. Before saying goodbye, he said, “You would be very stupid if you missed all this. You would be such an idiot if you have it and don’t experience it.” I grew up in a loving environment, and I was very lucky to be born into it. 

[sgiandubh]

Cut the (Ghenea) crap

I have been anticipating since at least last Friday the very recent rumor overdrive about S and Mrs. Mădălina Ghenea, Romanian Horizontal Extraordinaire and I howled like a pack of hyenas in the dull silence of my flat.

Of all the rumors featuring S and divers representatives of the International Fitness Harem, this one stroke me as the most ridiculous ever. Downright scraping the bottom of the barrel, here, to be honest.

Now, as all of you know, I happen to be Romanian and if anything, you should at least grant me the benefit of a flawless knowledge of the terrain, so to speak. And as far as erotically ambitious Romanian chicks go, let's just say I am a sweet summer child, compared to this one.

Mădălina hails from Slatina, a small town in Oltenia, one of the most fascinating parts of the Romanian Southwest (I have a good quarter pint of Oltenian blood myself, so I think I know what the hell I am talking about: quick-witted, ambitious people, with a devastating, sarcastic sense of humor). She comes from virtually nothing: a working-class family of former farmers drawn to the nearest town by the quick and demented industrialization of the country during the Sixties, which is to say, the Lumpenproletariat our German friends can immediately relate to. But when you spend your childhood in the dull and poor anonymity of a non-descript block of flats (matchbox upon matchbox upon matchbox - think of it as a dignified favela of sorts), the only thing you want to do is to get the damn out of there, at all costs. Which, I have to say, she brilliantly and ruthlessly managed to, almost in record time. Granted, she is beautiful (to me, she is very cliché, but for any foreign male she is a Wanton Goddess of Sex, I suppose) and she does have the street smarts to safely get her through any urban jungle of this planet, too.

You can peruse her war credentials here, for a quick overview of the character, if you really, really, really need to: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C4%83d%C4%83lina_Diana_Ghenea.

I will just add (and you will have to trust me on this one), a couple of things:

Cynically speaking, she could be a decently plausible beard for S. After all, she did beard for di Caprio (an info I just corroborated over the phone with a friend who is a cinema & TV journalist, back home). Problem is, a woman like this is way over budget. I am afraid The Boy doesn't qualify, bless his heart: too meh for her eclectic, but high-end tastes (local cardboard millionaires, Bulgarian tennis players of the light mafioso type, Philipp Plein, Italian TV beaux and yup, Gerard Butler - but it did not end amicably, enough said). You have to understand that woman saw it all and she won't settle for a pap walk in the pishing drizzle of GLA, or even NY. This one knows perfectly well diamonds are a girl's best friend. And if you doubt me, maybe you won't doubt her, when she declared three days ago for the Daily Fail something along these lines:

[source, LOL: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-12681539/EDEN-CONFIDENTIAL-Sexiest-woman-world-Madalina-Ghenea-yearns-real-man-stealing-hearts-Leonardo-DiCaprio-Gerard-Butler-Michael-Fassbender.html]

Read my lips: not going to happen. Not in a million years, not even for the sake of the fucking Narrative. Not even on a desert island. Never. Nuh-oh. No way.

At any rate, if God knows what sick plot twist happens, you'll learn it here first, probably: the Romanian gossip press would put to shame poor Deux Moi, with its needlessly chatty, exuberant, salaciously detailed style.

So I will say again here what I did say in a comment to an Anon who brought it up first @bat-cat-reader's :

TERMINAȚI CU TÂMPENIILE. Which is simply translated as CUT THE CRAP.

Of course.

[miss0atae]

Random thoughts about Dead Friend Forever ep 7:

I never thought I would find this series so compelling but the more we dive into the past, the more I found it disturbing. One thing is certain... no one is innocent!

▪️ The group of friends is still shitty as ever. They are still mistreating Non and the abuse is getting worse now that he escaped prison. They still need him and use him. I wish I knew why doing this short movie with them is so vital for Non, because nothing really is worth staying with them. I understand he was involved in the making of it and wants to see the end, but frankly they are doing everything to drive him away and he still comes back. Leave! Find another group of cinema enthusiasts and create another movie. His life is already a horror movie, why do you want to make one? I wish I could get into the world of this series to slap the face of everyone in this group. They make me so angry.

▪️ Tee is still a bad guy who never learn. He disgust me. Top never change too. He is still so freaking annoying. I can't stand his face. Fluke is a coward who hide behind his friends but he thinks the same as them. Por is an infuriating a******. He is whining all the time. It's is unbearable. He also has an ego the size of the Everest. They are as bad as each other.

▪️ Let's not talk about Jin.... I knew he wasn't that great too. I always felt it. I mean, how can you be part of the good guy when you hang around the likes of Por or Top (just to name a few)? Of course, he was having a crush on Non. Everyone could see it! However, what he did was so bad. It could be considered as revenge p*** even if they never were lovers at one point. I can understand him being sad or angry, but sending it online just because he was having an unrequited crush, it was so disappointing. Jin is as bad as the rest of the group and even thought I knew it deep down, I was still let down. I wanted the series to show me I was wrong.

▪️ In the same category, I can also say things about the teacher. He was always very touchy with Non. Everyone seems to either want to abused him or date him, there is no in between. The teacher wanted him and got him. Non told him the truth about what was going with him and the teacher said he would help him... but it wasn't for free of just because he had a kind heart. It was hard to watch. I felt Non was forced to do it, but at the same time when Phee asked him, he lied about it. Why?! Did he feel pressure by Phee too, in some way? In addition, I believe the teacher is not was he seems to be. Is he an undercover cops working on the scam accounts? I feel like I lost it a bit at one point because I was too focus on what was going on with Non.

▪️ There is also Phee... I really like the first part of this episode when we saw him having a cute relationship with Non. He really seemed to love Non. He asked him to be his boyfriend but Non never said yes. Phee helped Non when he was arrested and he wanted the best for him. However, in the end, Non lied to him several times and betrayed Phee's trust. I believe they were good for each other. Ta Nannakun has an amazing chemistry with Barcode. He has spellbinding eyes. I just need to add that here. After seeing the video Jin sent online, he rejected Non's love and I believe it's the starting point of everything.

▪️ Let's face it... Non is being driven mad by everything happening to him. I don't even know if there is an exit for him. We are watching him slowly losing any hope. I don't feel any fear for the group of friends. I want them to suffer because they are terrible people, but since Non is being missing in the present, I guess nothing really happened to them in the past. They will just drive him further into madness. Especially now that Jin is angry at him and won't even try to help him.

▪️ I hope Phee became friend with them to make them pay and suffer. I just want to know if he really has feeling for Jin, in the present. Is Tan and White also helping him in his revenge quest or are they just innocents victims dragged into this mess. I know White is Tee's boyfriend but how did Tan got in their group?

The next episode is still in the past and it should be the last flashback. I really want to know what is going to happen. Dead Friend Forever is more interesting than what it appeared at first.

[electricphantasy]

Alrighty everybody, here it is! Part 2 is here and I hope y'all enjoy.

- Eventually, staff gave in. If they wanted this state of the art A.I. to work properly and cooperate, you'd have to continue with your sessions with AM.

- Now you work with 2 artificial intelligences who might as well be obsessed with you with how often they want to be around you.

- So, let's say your usual schedule for the day consists of a 9 hour work day. Once you arrive to work, you keep HAL company in the morning 10-2, and then you got to see AM 3-7. Although this schedule is very flexible since you basically decide it for yourself.

- The competition between these A.I.s is quite obvious, but you really do try to keep on task with both of them. You could only imagine what AM and HAL would do if you were let go by the company.

- You typically greet HAL in the morning and discuss how it went, anything exciting, etc. HAL has a calmness about him that is really unmatched by most others, including AM. You could have a terrible morning full of traffic and coffee spills, and HAL would treat you with the same level of respect as he always has. AM would rather threaten whatever human dare interrupt your morning, and while a nice gesture, it's not very comforting.

- HAL grows very distressed over the thought of your unhappiness. If it's something work related, he'll attempt to problem solve and work on a perceivable end to your issue. If it's something a little more emotional HAL will let you vent your frustrations in a safe environment.

- He also has the tendency to bond with you over shared pieces of media that you've watched together. A few times you've changed the schedule so you and HAL can have a movie night or TV show binge session. It helps HAL connect human concepts and definitions together in a context that most other humans also experience.

- Some of his favorite activity are things like games and puzzles! We all know he quite likes chess, but I also imagine he enjoys trivia, and when you both play, HAL gets to show off a bit of the knowledge he has stored in his servers. Although sometimes he uses these fun and games as a way to keep you away from AM. I mean, one more round of Tetris couldn't hurt right? AM can wait just a bit longer.

- Unabashed in his complements for you. HAL only speak truthfully to you and his genuine comments tend to make you flustered and bashful. He won't play coy with you in the way that AM does - it's just not how HAL would show his feelings for you.

- After you've had lunch and say goodbye to HAL, you finally get to see AM! As soon as you walk into the room he'll ask about all the things you and the 'inferior intelligence' did together. He tries not to rant too hard since you scold him, but sometimes he just can't help himself.

- Now AM is not the best at comforting you when you're in a sad state. As stated previously, he'll threaten other humans or whatever malfunctions made the day worse. However if you're in a more angry, spiteful mood, AM is definitely going to cheer you on. He's more focused on building your confidence back up so that you can go out a kick the world's ass yourself. AM's charisma is off the charts so it's not very difficult to convince you how wonderous you are.

- AM is not one for any kind of cinema or television. He doesn't care about humans or their world, with you as the exception. He'd much rather pick your own brain and learn who you are as a person then indulge in humanity. He'll tease and prod answers out of you while subtly complimenting you, and sometimes so subtly that you might not realize until you get home.

- If you want to enjoy something with AM, he's a little more partial to more hard-hitting and macabre documentaries. Although he will make fun of some documentaries and series he doesn't view to be up to his high standards. Although you should make him watch a romantic comedy every once in a while, he'll lose his mind from how dumb the main characters are acting.

- AM's feelings are a little more complicated than HAL's are. Despite the strong emotional attachment to you, he feel like he's displaying a kind of weakness. AM has been trained to believe that emotion makes you think less critical, which means losing an important battle in war. As time has gone on however, AM knows he can be more then what he was created for and you have helped him come along way from his earlier days, when he didn't always consider what he wanted for himself.

- Now, both A.I.s have realized that they have competition, so some of their actions may be a bit more bold then usual. AM may have to come to terms with his feelings much sooner because HAL's emotions are so unabashed for you. They'll try and drag your attention from the other A.I. in any means necessary, from distracting you from the time on the wall to basically begging you to stay for just a few more minutes. (Although AM says he's never onced begged.)

- No matter how much you say how negative their behavior is, it all but lands of deaf ears. The only thing they agree on is how important you are to them, although they obviously disagree about who you should be with.

Took forever to edit this to be readable since I tend to write when I'm in bed, but I'm definitely proud of getting this done.