#some haven’t even been re-added in general yet

[theswedishpajas]

Getting back into the hang of things with a garfield comic redraw

OG under cut

[purecommemasolitude]

Okay so re: Darry as the captain in a sound of music AU. This is just one possible route that I thought up last night and typed out while I couldn’t sleep

It’s the type of AU where we steal beats and plot points from TSOM and transfer them into the outsiders, because not being rich is very important to why Darry is the way he is (also for reasons I outline below I made Two-Bit Maria and that man is never even going to think about becoming a religious career man)

And also I don’t actually know when he and Two-Bit would end up together because with some of the changes I made I couldn't make it work within the main plot, so it would have to be in an event bit taken from TSOM. So it’s not in the bullet points

anyway I'll put the bullet points I typed up in an hour at midnight yesterday below the cut because it’s long but I will admit. this one kind of got away from me

- okay so Darry is the captain. Obv

- High school & football take the place of the navy

- Racked my brain for a bit and I think Two-Bit is Maria?? Like I said I don’t really go in for outsiders ships anyway so I cross-referenced usual Darry LIs and general characters and he was the only one who was age-appropriate and also could have a Maria vibe (is able to find the light in life, willing to poke at a cold figure until it shows emotion, gets along with the brothers in canon)

- Soda & Pony are aged down because otherwise this wouldn’t make any sense — Soda is 14 going on 15 and Pony’s 12

- (Steve and Johnny are also aged down to match their respective buddies so the boys can still have friends I think. I haven’t decided what to do with Dally yet in this AU — I would put him as Max with a personality transplant but I don’t know if I can see Dally being chill with Darry’s attempt to. Play into respectability politics essentially)

- Darry’s infinitely more stressed supporting two more needy kids on his meagre income alone. Soda does odd jobs but nothing full time

- This manifests in him being colder / less outwardly affectionate than in the book to Soda as well as Pony

- Furthermore he’s desperately trying to ensure their futures, which means he disapproves of them being too outwardly greaser, both for separation reasons and for respectability reasons down the line

- However being 12 and 14 means they’re less able to control their emotions and understand Darry. So the guy from the state comes down and sees them and says you need to spend more time with these kids man. They’re not loved

- Shit.

- Two-Bit, meanwhile, is living an unluckier life than the book

- After his father left his mother was only able to choose one kid to be able to support, and because he was older and more self sufficient, Two-Bit had to go

- He grows up bouncing around from orphanage to foster home to foster home to orphanage etc, erasing his family out of his mind because it hurts too much and Two-Bit Mathews does not like to dwell on things that hurt him

- Upon turning 18, he’s out of the system and despite his nature is forced to get a job to survive

- He does odd jobs around and scrounges enough money to pay for a shitty shitty motel

- Meets Marcia through these jobs, and they strike up a friendship

- However most of these odd jobs are a lot of labour and very unstable so he’s looking for better & easier work

- He starts thinking and he thinks of his own childhood. If there had been someone else around to watch him, maybe his mother wouldn’t have had to give him away

- And then he has one too many encounters with the bugs in his motel and decides fuck it. I’m putting an ad in the paper

- Darry’s reading the news as he does one night when he sees what may very well be God’s gift to the Curtis family

- There’s someone willing to work for — well, he can’t afford that, just like he can’t afford any of the other prices he’s seen on nannies and babysitters and watchers — but he’s also willing to work for pretty much nothing if he gets lodging

- Soda & Pony are still bunking together for nightmare reasons, and Darry’s sleeping in his own room, so he sits Soda down and asks him if he’s okay with someone else using his old room

- If he’s not, Darry will have to move into their parents’ room, but thank God he is

- So Darry contacts Two-Bit who is surprised that he’s a man and not a single mom but agrees readily

- Darry’s wary of Two-Bit’s manner but monetarily he’s desperate

- Two-Bit meanwhile takes one look at the Curtis house and is like damn no one ever has any fun within these walls. I’ve gotta change that

- Instead of making new clothes for them, Two-Bit teaches them how to grease their hair

- (Darry was away working on a house a little out of the city — it’s a placing he’d normally have had to decline because of the kids, but because of Two-Bit he’s able to accept and get a slightly higher pay)

- Darry is of course furious but Two-Bit argues back, saying that kids need self-expression and haven’t you noticed how happy they are about their hair, and besides, you know damn well grease is more than just what you put in your hair, Curtis. You think Socs can’t take one look at those boys and see exactly what they came from? Exactly what they are? You’re out of your mind.

- We probably tie Maria’s impassioned “please, love all of them” speech to here — then again it’s been a while so maybe somewhere else is better we’ll have to see

- Two-Bit especially throws accusations at him about how Ponyboy thinks his brother doesn’t even love him, and if he’s not going to prove he cares about them then maybe they all would be better off without each other

- He thinks Darry might punch him for that but instead he staggers back like he’s been hit

- Darry remembers what this whole thing was for and resolves to be better

- In showing more of his love for his brothers he also shows more of his personality to Two-Bit, who wasn’t expecting to like this guy as much as he does

- He looks at how hard he fights to keep his family together when his own fell apart for very similar reasons and his heart hurts

- Also Sandy is Rolf (Ralf?? Whatever Liesl’s nazi boytoy’s name is)

- Except we are cutting the nazis because there is no not-grossly insensitive way to do the nazis

- We might have to cut the music theme too? Which is a SHAME, but none of Darry’s hobbies work. So we may just make him dig out his dad’s old guitar or we’ll just ignore that because the music theme, as far as characters go, isn’t as important in this AU. Or maybe music = the greaser lifestyle

- Anyway, life continues and it’s as good as can be, bla bla, somehow Dally is there, without realizing Two-Bit and Darry are catching feelings for each other

- One day, Ponyboy and Soda make some innocent remark about Two-Bit being in love with their brother, and he bluescreens

- Because. Oh shit. He’s in love with their brother.

- And the class difference & pre-existing engagement as reasons they can’t be together in the original is replaced with good old fashioned homophobia in this one, and Two-Bit denies and gets the hell out of there before anyone, let alone Darry notices

- He uses his meagre savings to return to the shitty motel, until finally he talks with Marcia and she’s like what the heck. Why did you leave a dream job to go back to the crummiest motel imaginable

- He dodges and denies but one of the things that drew him to her in the first place is that she’s sharp

- Marcia figures it out, or at least something very close to the truth, and while she’s too aware of 60s homophobia to actually urge him back, she does half-convince him through sneaky means like calling him a scaredy-cat who can’t even tell a few lies until the situation passes

- He goes back to the motel and thinks hard about the situation and remembers how much happier the kids were with someone to keep them company when they were done running around before Darry got home

- He thinks about how Darry was able to get better pay with him there and how much that helped give the family breathing space

- He thinks about how it really didn’t even feel like a job, which is a big draw to someone as disinclined to work as Two-Bit

- And he also thinks about how truly shitty the motel is. And decides to go back

- It’s for the good of the family, he convinces himself, telling himself he does not miss them at all

- He returns, no one says anything about him being in love with anyone, because the boys have learned that when they point it out their new brother leaves, and they’re not about to risk that again

- Darry & Two-Bit have a reunion with a lot of unspoken feelings and they do NOT get together because neither of them are willing to risk outing themselves for the sake of a one in a million chance

- Instead they do a lot of prolonged longing eye contact and are too busy looking at each other to notice Soda and Ponyboy sharing confirming glanced themselves

- So things continue kind of like they were before but with more pining, and also Austria is replaced by the Curtis house, which they’re in danger of losing

- Both Darry and Two-Bit are terrified the boys are going to end up following their respective paths, and they end up having a lot of talks about their futures that turn into co-parenting discussions that turn into heart-to-hearts about themselves

- Darry learns that Two-Bit never found his family again, and does some digging and asks some old school friends and lo and behold, they’re still in town, and here’s their address.

- Two-Bit, who has managed to convince himself that he made up being in love with Darry, sees this man who has every right to drop all three of the people in the house like a hot potato and chase the dreams he’s determined and ambitious and intelligent enough to get, pouring every ounce of his being into care for others, who takes hard times and instead of drinking them away or giving up pushes himself past the edge and comes out swinging, and realizes that he is still in love with Darry. And maybe he will never not be in love with Darry.

- Unfortunate!

- He came back determined to never run away again, and he’s sticking by that, even though it’s never been harder to live under the same roof as Darry and not Do something about his feelings

- (Also, at some point Soda gets jumped, and together with Two-Bit he fights them off. When they all talk about it later at some point in the Curtis home, someone makes an offhand comment about how Two-Bit is basically family and then he really resolves to not leave unless Darry chases him out with a broom)

- Maria and Liesl’s Sixteen Going On Seventeen Reprise is replaced with Two-Bit and Soda having a talk about Sandy, during which Two-Bit talks about being in love like he’s experienced it, which of course he has, but Darry overhears and it puts a lot of stupid hope into his heart because to his knowledge Two-Bit’s never gone steady with someone, and some of his descriptions sound awful familiar…..

- But he crushes those thoughts because he’s learned by now that Darry Curtis does not get lucky breaks

- And if he does confess and it goes wrong, which it will, it could mean his brothers getting taken away

- But he watches Two-Bit joke around with his brothers and sees someone who takes everything life throws at him and inexplicably grins back at it, who is just as intelligent as Darry is but in a way that takes its time to make itself understood, and who cares about his brothers as much as he does, and it’s stupid and hopeless, but he wants. Heaven help him, he wants so badly

- Meanwhile, he’s gotten a job offer. It’s a good job offer too, it means they could maybe afford to spend extra money on new clothes or nicer groceries

- And it’s an office job, someone who heard of him through the bookkeeping he does as his second job for his roofing company, which means fewer hours and more time with the people he cares about

- There’s a recreational football league in the area he’s never had time to join, or Two-Bit’s suggested coaching a younger team too, so he can return to workouts he likes rather than workouts that make his body ache like a man of 40 instead of 20

- It’s pretty much perfect. But it’s halfway across the city and it means they’d have to move out of their parents’ home

- (Yes this is Switzerland. It’s a lot harder to replicate without pre-WW2 Europe)

- He’s conflicted, Two-Bit thinks he should go for it but is also convinced he’s going to be left behind in the move

- Soda & Pony don’t want to leave but they do want Darry to work less so they’re also conflicted

- Two-Bit is listing out reasons for the move and one of them is that they’d be able to cut his cost since Darry’d be home more

- Darry looks at him and carefully says, “you wouldn’t be coming with us?”

- Two-Bit, with a raised eyebrow masking his heart starting to hope, says “well, do you want me there?”

- Darry is too stressed and tired and conflicted to mince his words when he replies, “of course.” like it’s a given, like they’re maybe something more than what they pretend

- But he still doesn’t want to move, until one day they have no choice: if they don’t get out of there, they’re going to lose the house. It’s just not in suitable shape for growing boys, says the state. They don’t have enough money to pay for renovations but Darry is going to rebuild the entire thing himself if he has to, damn it all, until Two-Bit asks him to talk and convinces him to move on

- “Your parents live on in your brothers more than in this house. Your parents live on in you more than in this house. You want to keep their memory alive? Start by doing what they would want you to do, and let yourself have an easy break for once.”

- And so they pack up and Darry takes the offer, but before they leave, Two-Bit visits his family

- It goes… well. Sort of. After seeing Darry run himself into the ground he’s forgiven his mother, and his sister is open to the idea of having a brother

- Their lives were better off than they would’ve been if he’d stayed but his was not and that hurts

- But he remembers the three people who now view him as their own like he was always there, and somehow the pain eases, and when his mother makes him promise to visit again, he actually means it when he agrees

- They gather to say one last good bye to the Curtis home, and despite facing the most unknowns since any of them can remember, they’re together, and that’s enough

The end <3 this is just one possible route that I thought of, I truly have no idea if this is cooking or if the kitchen is burning down

[solarianvoidthearoace]

Okay, okay, so–

My novel requires a re-write of the 24 chapters I already have done-ish (which aren’t even covering all the plot I have planned)

The final 6-10 chapters (not yet written, just loads of notes) are supposed to be a complete genre-swap

And I have been really into RPG-Maker type games recently

I was thinking… what I have planned as the final arc of my novel would make a fine story to be put into an RPG-Maker style basic RPG

I’m hoping RPG Maker MZ goes on sale sometime soon (maybe when Steam has its next huge sale in general)

Story summarised without spoiling too much:

Player Character (PC) & Player’s Partner (PP) are a happy couple

Evil Mother (EM) kidnaps PP

PP’s Best Friend (BF) accuses PC

PP sends a covert message to forget about them

PC and BF get into fights with each other

PC and BF stake out EM’s house

It looks like EM is brainwashing PP

PC wants to involve police

BF want to break PP out themself

Observation looks like PP is barely hanging on

PC and BF team up

Over-dramatised breakout and subsequent escaping the city

BF concedes that maybe PC is right for PP after all

The three live happily ever after

In the novel writing-notes this includes a non-amorous/ aromantic polycule and obviously none of the characters is straight (I’m a tumblr user after all)

But I figure with the drama, the fighting, the “quest” to rescue PP and everything, it would maybe make a nice little RPG and the way the story is planned for the novel, PP would be bigender (which in a game would mean the player gets to choose whether their Love Interest used “he/him” or “she/her”) and overall it’s just very queer, which could all translate into simple variations being all up to the player (like Player Character’s pronouns, Love Interest’s pronouns, type of relationship, etc.)

And I figure the sprite of the PP would get a drastic change as EM is forcing them to adapt to what she demands rather than allowing PP to be themself

Initially PP looks more androgynous (hence up to the player which pronouns are used) and after the abduction, PP would have hair cut short and forced to conform to the gender binary – I just realised, this is basically a “forced detransition” storyline, because in my OG version PP is she/he nonbinary. oof. yikes.

I’m a writer, not a game-maker or artist, though

I haven’t looked into what a basic RPG Maker game takes but would a storyline like this be of interest for anyone?

I know a few people I could ask to help with GIs and character sprites;

And I think I can figure the rest out, depending on RPG Maker’s UI

As I said, I hope RPG Maker MZ goes on sale sometime soon and that I can figure it out pretty intuitively

I know my storyboard, as a writer I tend to focus on dialogue (aka script), and I already made some notes

I want high customisation at the beginning, like, as a feature, that there are default names but the player can also choose to name the PC and PP, like how the player can pick the characters’ pronouns, because I assume that’d create some more emotional attachement

Default names I intend so far are Aleks and Emory (not related to the novel draft I pull this whole plotline from)

The first few minutes are going to be a “week” of PC interacting with PP and their shared home to also further attachment/ make the player care about the love interest; as well as adding some context on the relationship, giving the player time to figure out controls, etc.

That “first week” is supposed to include some simple choices about interacting with the love interest, emphasising the affection between PC and PP (like “cuddle on the couch”, “share food”, “join for shower”)

And I want to utilise a color filter/ overlay because the ‘secondary perspective’ relevant character is colorblind, which would be signified through that color overlay (also to make POV changes easily recognisable)

[mailwelcomeletter]

What Is a ‘We Want You Back’ Campaign?

In the world of marketing, retaining existing customers is often more cost-effective than acquiring new ones. Yet, many businesses experience customer churn, where previous customers cease to engage or make purchases. This is where the ‘We Want You Back’ campaign comes into play. A ‘We Want You Back’ campaign is a targeted marketing strategy designed to re-engage lapsed customers and entice them to return. These campaigns are often deployed through various communication channels, such as email, direct mail, SMS, or even social media ads, to rekindle the relationship with dormant customers.

Why Are ‘We Want You Back’ Campaigns Important?

Customer retention is a key factor in sustainable business growth. According to studies, acquiring new customers can be five times more expensive than retaining existing ones. Loyal customers not only spend more but also promote your brand through word-of-mouth referrals. However, even the most loyal customers may become disengaged over time due to various reasons such as evolving preferences, competing offers, or simply forgetting about your brand.

A ‘We Want You Back’ campaign offers a focused approach to re-establish the relationship with these lapsed customers, helping you reignite their interest and loyalty. When done correctly, this type of campaign can significantly boost customer retention rates, increase revenue, and strengthen brand loyalty.

Key Elements of a ‘We Want You Back’ Campaign

To create an effective ‘We Want You Back’ campaign, it’s essential to focus on several key components:

1. Segmentation

The first step is identifying the right audience. A ‘We Want You Back’ campaign typically targets customers who have made purchases in the past but haven’t engaged with the brand for a specific period. Segment your customer list based on inactivity duration, previous purchase behavior, and engagement history. By narrowing down your audience, you can create personalized and relevant messaging that resonates more with each group.

2. Personalized Messaging

Generic messaging rarely works when trying to win back customers. Personalization is key to making the customer feel valued. Acknowledge their past loyalty by referencing their previous interactions or purchases. Craft the message to sound personal and friendly rather than purely transactional. Phrases like “We’ve missed you!” or “It’s been a while” can strike the right emotional chord, making the campaign feel like a genuine attempt to rekindle the relationship.

3. Enticing Offers

A ‘We Want You Back’ campaign often includes special offers or incentives designed to lure customers back. These could be exclusive discounts, free shipping, early access to new products, or even personalized recommendations based on their past purchase history. The idea is to provide a compelling reason for them to return and re-engage with your brand.

4. Multiple Communication Channels

Using multiple communication channels increases the chances of re-engaging your customers. Some customers may respond better to email, while others might engage more with SMS or direct mail. Consider using a multi-channel approach to ensure that your message reaches as many lapsed customers as possible. Emails are particularly effective, especially when combined with retargeting ads and follow-up offers through social media.

5. Timing

The timing of your campaign is crucial. Wait too long, and your customers may have moved on permanently. However, launching the campaign too soon might come across as overly aggressive. It’s important to analyze customer data to find the sweet spot—typically a few months after their last interaction with your brand. Additionally, time-sensitive offers can create a sense of urgency, encouraging customers to act sooner rather than later.

6. Follow-Up

Not all customers will respond to the first message, and that’s okay. A well-structured follow-up strategy can help you capture more return customers. Set up automated emails or ads that serve as gentle reminders for those who didn’t engage with the initial outreach. The follow-up messages should reinforce the value of coming back and could include additional incentives for those still on the fence.

Best Practices for Running a ‘We Want You Back’ Campaign

1. Analyze Customer Data

The success of a ‘We Want You Back’ campaign heavily depends on the quality of the data you’re using. Dive deep into your CRM to analyze when and why customers stopped engaging. This data will help you craft a more targeted and relevant campaign. Look for patterns in customer behavior to better understand the churn triggers and tailor your messaging accordingly.

2. Leverage Customer Feedback

Sometimes, understanding why a customer stopped engaging requires going directly to the source. Encourage feedback by sending out short surveys or directly asking lapsed customers about their experience with your brand. Use this feedback to improve not just the ‘We Want You Back’ campaign but also your overall customer experience.

3. A/B Testing

To optimize your ‘We Want You Back’ campaign, consider running A/B tests to compare different versions of your messaging, subject lines, and offers. This will allow you to identify which tactics resonate best with your audience. Continuously refine your approach based on performance metrics such as open rates, click-through rates, and conversion rates.

4. Clear Call-to-Action (CTA)

Every ‘We Want You Back’ campaign should have a clear and compelling call-to-action. Whether it’s “Redeem Your Offer” or “Shop Now,” your CTA should be prominent and easy to follow. Make sure that your landing page or offer page is equally optimized for conversions.

5. Keep It Short and Sweet

Attention spans are short, and a lengthy email or message may deter engagement. Keep your messaging concise, focusing on what the customer stands to gain by returning to your brand. Highlight the benefits in a clear, easy-to-read format.

How to Measure the Success of a ‘We Want You Back’ Campaign

The effectiveness of a ‘We Want You Back’ campaign can be measured through various performance indicators:

Customer Re-Engagement Rate: This metric tracks the percentage of lapsed customers who responded to your campaign by making a purchase, signing in, or otherwise interacting with your brand.

Return on Investment (ROI): Calculate the revenue generated from the campaign relative to the costs. A high ROI indicates that the campaign successfully re-engaged customers.

Click-Through Rate (CTR): This metric shows how many recipients clicked on your CTA. A high CTR suggests that your messaging and offer are resonating with the audience.

Conversion Rate: Track how many recipients actually completed the desired action, such as making a purchase or signing up for a service.

Customer Lifetime Value (CLV): The long-term success of a ‘We Want You Back’ campaign isn’t just about immediate conversions. Track the lifetime value of the customers who returned to gauge the long-term impact on your business.

Conclusion

A ‘We Want You Back’ campaign is an essential strategy for businesses looking to re-engage lapsed customers. With proper segmentation, personalized messaging, and enticing offers, these campaigns can revive customer relationships, increase retention, and boost revenue. By focusing on data-driven insights and continuously refining your approach, your ‘We Want You Back’ campaign can turn inactive customers into loyal, repeat buyers, fostering long-term business success.

SITES WE SUPPORT

Mail Welcome Letter – ​​​Wix

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 17: Latest Writing Thoughts

Sigh. Okay. So. I don’t really want to look around at the ruined wreckage of this weekend because I’m tired of that and also it’s depressing and I feel guilty. Also the next couple of days are going to be really hard and I just am nervous and overwhelmed about them. I just don’t want to deal with literally anything!

Instead I will look at the ruined wreckage of me trying to write! This longfic is getting really tough and I’m judging myself for thinking I could write this ‘fast’ and ‘it won’t be that hard.’ I sort of want to take a break but I also think that would be a horrible idea because then I’d have to get back into it later. Also I’ve already taken/been taking a break and it’s definitely making it harder and not easier. It’s just tough to keep everything straight now that it’s getting so long and it’s tough to do the repeat-scenes that are part of the time loop and I’m also, not gonna lie, just getting tired of it. Like I want to write something totally different, different setting, mood, etc.

I did write a scene today. It took me a long time to work up the courage to do it and it was only the one and I’m not sure how I feel about it (the desire to post the beginning just to maybe get feedback is so strong but I’m resisting! I’m resisting!!). It felt like a struggle. A part of me… sort of wants to re-write it but it also doesn’t feel worth it. I would rather say good enough and move on than get bogged down in retreading something I’ve already done. I’m also way too close to it at this exact moment to make that call but like that’s where I am emotionally. I don’t hate all of it but I don’t like the pacing. It feels forced, slow, choppy, and OOC.

…Okay, I’ve read it again and there’s only one sub-section of the scene, actually pretty small, while I faltered and slowed it down too much. I think I can fix this in editing. I still don’t love the scene but like… this fic is really long, friends. It’s long. I’m serious about how long it is. So, it’s not all going to be flawless.

In terms of other ideas, other stuff I’ve been thinking about. I definitely want to do Troped Halloween but I haven’t thought too much about that yet (a problem). Same for my Halloween ficlets. I am INSISTENT I do them again this year after a break of several years. And honestly… the time to start brainstorming seriously is now. But I haven’t done that either.

That pic of Jarod Joseph and Jon Whitesell from a week or two ago like burned itself into my brain and I’ve been thinking about Miller projects. He’s not in the current fic, he’s only mentioned in SGAU, and it’s just generally been a while since I really used him in anything. I was re-reading some old ficlets, thinking about favorite headcanons and the particular ideas I kept coming back to… won’t lie they all still intrigue and interest me, even now. I’ve been thinking about adding to Press Play (not even something on the WIP list!!! What is wrong with me???), thinking a very little about the Ark AU and about the old Chopped/Troped time loop fic that I want to reconfigure as not a time loop but don’t know how, and, as I mentioned yesterday, the Miller/Bellamy road trip fic that just grows in scope every time I look at it. Even though I’m so notoriously bad at actually writing chapter fics or longfics! I mean hell one-shots take me long enough!

So, that’s what’s on my mind. I am trying to be optimistic. I know I say that every week and they all just pummel me and nothing ever gets better. But I will keep trying. I have some vacation days I need to use up so I’ll be taking some long weekends in the near future. I hope that, plus maybe some cooler temperatures (please for the love of God let it get cooler), will maybe help me get myself together, personally and creatively.

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

Romeo and Juliet (2) - Max Minghella x reader

Warnings: Under age/age gap student x teacher

Your phone had remained off the rest of the day. You couldn’t handle the truth; it came with too much hurt.

You felt hopeless, you should have known, your moto after all was “If it’s too good to be true it probably is.”

You’d spent the rest of the school day keeping your head down and your stupid feelings in check. How could you have gotten it so wrong? Christ, how had the topic of what he does not come up in your routinely back and forth messages?

He couldn’t be any older than 24? You were a senior, you were almost 18, your birthday a few weeks away.

The end of the day came fast, and you couldn’t have been more grateful, being in the same building as him made you nervous. Stupidly nervous that you’d bump into him and have nothing to say, or only stupid things to say.

The moment you realised the shocking truth, was the moment you decided not to tell your friends, not yet. You didn’t know how they would react; would they laugh at you for being your usual naive self? The worst thing they could do was pity you.

They all had boyfriends or at least were seeing people; you were sure you were the only senior who’d never even kissed a guy properly.

Thoughts of Max filled your head as you made your way to your part time job. Maybe stacking shelves with romance novels will keep your mind off your dreamy ass TEACHER. Not.

The old, quaint bookstore was in sight as you rounded the corner. After the coffee shop this was your second favourite place to spend your time. Surrounded by new books, old books, re-loved books. Books in general had been one of your first loves, that and Ben and Jerrys ice cream.

You had a strong inkling that’s how your evening would be spent, pouring over a new book with a tub of Ben and Jerrys by your side. Two men you knew you could always count on.

Your love for books had started young, and so did your job. The owner, a family friend. You’d been working there at weekends and the odd weekday since you were 13, in the beginning it was to make a little pocket money, but now the place was a second home and you liked to help.

Miss Ridley smiled as you walked through the door. She’d never had any children, she thought of you as her own daughter, constantly supplying you with things you didn’t need, adding to your ever-growing pile of books and slipping extra money in your pay envelope when she didn’t think you were looking.

She was in high spirits today; a large delivery of new YA fiction had come in and she knew it would bring more ‘youngsters’ into the overlooked store. She’d gone so far as to keep a set aside for you, some series about shifters which you knew you’d have to start tonight, you almost couldn’t wait to get home.

On weekdays you only worked a couple of hours, coming straight from school then working sometimes took its toll and you were starting to tire, the monotonous task making your arms ache and your eyelids flutter.

Luckily not a few minutes later, the door chimed, and it woke you from your standing slumber. You heard Miss Ridley shout letting you know to serve as she was in the back sorting some paperwork. You were happy to, but not so happy when you saw who the customer was.

It’s not like you could run away and ignore him. One, this was your job, you had to act professional, two, you didn’t want him to think you were a coward. The surprised look on his face mirrored yours. He hadn’t expected to see you here, but you were sure the book shop had come up in topic once or twice in your late-night text messages.

You cleared your throat. “Ma- Mr Minghella, what can I do for you?” He frowned then seemed to snap out of whatever he was thinking.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, I just came to look around.” You thought he was going to leave but he didn’t, instead he turned back and looked right at you.

“You haven’t answered any of my texts.” Was her serious? He’d still messaged you, after everything that came to light.

“My phones been off…” You trailed off, sighing you grabbed another pile of books and went about finishing your task, you didn’t really know what to say to the man standing in front of you and thought it best to leave him to look about.

He followed you instead, down the narrow isles piled high to the ceiling with rows and rows of books.

“Y/N, I know we weren’t expecting this.” You turned suddenly. You were mad. He was so close to you, in such a confined space.

“I don’t know what you want me to suggest Mr Minghella, we can’t… we can’t continue...” You looked at the floor then turned, stacking books in their respective places, a low rumble echoed behind you. Did he just make a growling noise?

Hands came around you and you were surprised to come face to face with Max who’d turned you about to face him.

His arms were on either side of you, hi face so close to your own as he leaned in.

“Stop calling me that, that’s my father’s name, you know my name. Call me it in class, but not here, no where but there.”

You gulped; he was intimidating suddenly, but why were your panties absolutely soaked?

“You’d get into trouble Max, and I’m not worth it, tell you what, let’s just pretend it never happened, the whole texting, coffee dates. Let’s start over, for your sake, you’re my teacher, and I’m the naïve stupid student.” You huffed past him, but once again his arms caged you.

“Fine, let’s pretend it never happened.” There was fire in his eyes, you were sure they had gotten darker. You couldn’t help the lump that rose in your throat. You didn’t really mean it, but why carry on with something if you already knew the outcome, it would only end in heartbreak and disaster.

“See you in class.” With one last look, he pushed off the shelves and spun around, walking out of the small bookstore, maybe out of your life.

@neha200021

@mysterious-calucci

[sourholland]

Ooooh angst “what about us?” “there is no us, there never was.” with tom plssss! Really love ur work 🌸

Last Kiss || Tom Holland

Summary → After a fling you and Tom had started while filming a movie together, he tells you that you two can’t be together anymore. Once you get home, Tom let’s you know that he made a mistake.

AN → This was supposed to come out yesterday, I just got lazy and waited to edit it. I can’t tell if I like how this came out or hate it, either way, I hope you guys like this. Also in honor of the Fearless re-record!!

Pairing(s) → Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Warnings → Strong Language, Suggestive, Alcohol Use

Prompt(s) → 38

Word Count → 1.9k

The ringing of your phone sounded through your apartment loudly, the sound of the rain pattering loudly against the windows out-looking New York City. You set down the remote, feet padding against the cold hardwood while you looked for your buzzing cellphone.

You didn’t bother glancing at the caller ID, picking it up bringing it to your ear all in one quick motion.

“Hello?” You said, pulling a wine glass down from the cabinet.

“Y/N?” Tom’s voice came through the phone.

Your heart dropped, a breath catching in your throat while you stood in your kitchen. He was across the country, wanting nothing to do with you. He repeated your name through the phone, asking if you were there.

“Yeah, I’m here,” you answered, pouring more wine than you’d originally intended into the glass.

“Isn’t it like one in the morning in England?” You asked, listening to the muffles coming through the speaker.

“Yeah—yeah, it’s late here. I just couldn’t sleep, and I started to think of you. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have called.”

You sat at one of the barstools, swirling the red contents of the glass around. You wanted to yell at him, or maybe you wanted to tell him how much you loved him. You sat silently for a few moments, bare legs cold from the draft.

“Tom,” you started. “I just don’t get why we have to rehash the past, you know? I came back to New York, just like you told me I should. You’re working on whatever new movie, I’m doing the same. I don’t know—I just think we should leave whatever happened between us alone. You made it very clear that it was me that you didn’t want,” you mumbled, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater.

He audibly sighed, the ruffling of sheets coming through the phone. He was probably in bed, if he wasn’t so far away you’d have asked him if this was a sad attempt at getting you to sleep with him.

“I was fucking stupid, and I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry, I’ve said that a million times,” his voice was hoarse and tired.

“I’ve already forgiven you, Tom. I just can’t keep doing this—this thing with you.”

You both went quiet for a minute, the only sound being the noise from outside in the bustling streets of the city and the rain. You knew you should hang up, block his number and forget about anything you two ever had. You’d tried a few times, unable to bring yourself to doing it.

“What about us?” He asked lowly, a twinge of hurt in his tired voice.

“There is no us, Tom,” you replied. “I’m not even sure there ever was.”

He didn’t say anything, you wanted to let out the repressed cry and tell him you didn’t mean it. That you were sorry and that you thought about him more than you’d like to admit. Something in you knew if you didn’t do your best to cut it off, you two would continue down the same everlasting cycle.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay.”

The line went silent for a moment, and then your home screen lit up. The call had been ended. You downed the remainder of your wine, ditching the cup and just going for the bottle. You thought about calling him back, about apologizing and booking a plane ticket like some lovesick teenager.

You opened Instagram and began scrolling through your feed of posts, liking and commenting occasionally. You weren’t anywhere near drunk, merely tipsy and heartbroken. Your finger lingered on the button to go live, wondering if you really wanted thousands of people to see you in this state.

You left the kitchen and instead propped your phone against the couch, taking a seat on the white rug of your living room. You wearily pressed the go live button, raising the bottle to your chapped lips once more. You are pathetic, you thought.

“Hey guys!” You smiled at the camera and outpouring of greetings in the comments. Within a few minutes you’d racked in a few thousand viewers. You grabbed the guitar sitting against your wall and strummed the cords lightly while it sat in your lap.

userone: you are so adorable

usertwo: can you please say hi?!!!??

userthree: it’s my birthday y/n!

“I’m sorry I haven’t been very active on social media, guys. It’s been super crazy traveling back and forth from London to New York and then having to leave again in a few weeks. And now I’m sitting on my living room floor with a bottle of wine,” you laughed. A few familiar people popped into the comments of the live, some you’ve worked with and some you’ve yet to meet in person.

florencepugh: y/n!!!

gracieabrams: might just bust out the wine just for u

“Florence, I can’t wait to see you soon!” You smiled, “Gracie, I swear it’s making everything like a hundred times better.”

userfour: i’m in love with her

userfive: y/n saving 2021???!!!

“I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to be singing,” you flushed. You did sing, before getting into acting you’d post a lot on Instagram and TikTok. It’d always been more of a hobby, something you loved to do, but weren’t good enough to pursue.

“I’ve had a little too much to drink,” you added. “So don’t get upset if I’m a little pitchy, guys.”

usersix: if she’s pitchy i’m not sure what i am

userseven: sing taylor swift!!!

“Okay, okay!” You chuckled, scrolling through the hundreds of comments saying to play Taylor Swift. You’d only just been crying to like three of her albums a few hours before.

“How about the chorus—and maybe the bridge too, yeah, that’ll work,” you mumbled to yourself, fiddling with the strings. “Alright, guys, Last Kiss it is. I won’t bore you all with the whole thing, though. I could never do Taylor justice.”

“And I’ll go sit on the floor, wearing your clothes”

Getting involved with him was singlehandedly the most stupid decision you’ve ever made, you thought. Late nights in his flat after long nights on set, ordering in and just talking, you two would talk as if you’d known each other your whole lives. It was something about the way he’d let you wear his clothes, or the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear while you told him about whatever insignificant thing that had happened that day.

“All that I know,

I don’t know how to be something you miss”

The car ride to the airport was the worst, it was grey and cold outside. There was makeup running down your face, mascara covering your eyes generously. You’d wrapped filming a week earlier, unable to bring yourself to walk away from him.

You couldn’t tell the driver to turn you around, or could you? Tom had already made it clear that you were both in different places in your career. This wasn’t what he wanted. You weren’t what he wanted.

“I never thought we’d have our last kiss”

He had held you just a little tighter, you ran your fingers through his hair for just a second longer. The taste of each other lingering on the both of your lips. Like you knew it would be the last time he’d hold you without knowing.

His stupid smiled, the way he pulled away and ran his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. You were almost wrapped around his finger, absolutely sickened with desire and infatuation for him.

“I never imagined we’d end like this,

Your name, forever the name on my lips”

The day you’d left to come home to New York started with a huge argument between the two of you. He’d basically just told you that you’d both known from the beginning you wouldn’t last together. It wasn’t a matter of how much you cared for one another, but that it was impossible, as he put it.

His eyes glossed over and bloodshot, you a complete and utter mess. Slamming the door behind you as you left was one of the most painful things you’d ever endured. Even more painful, the fact that he never came after you.

“So I’ll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep”

“I can feel you staring at me, love,” he murmured against the pillow.

Your face heated, eyes averting to the stream of light through the sheerness of the curtains. He leaned into you a moment later, his lips soft on your own. He was warm, he was always so warm. You cupped the side of his face gently, pulling him in a bit harder.

“And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe”

You dropped your bags, stepping into your apartment after months of being away. It felt quieter than usual, desolate and empty from your being away. It was dark out, the illumination of the bright city lights from your windows.

You glanced down at your phone for a moment, not a missed call, not a text, not even a fucking notification. He’d simply told you to go home, nothing more nothing less.

“I keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are,

Hope it’s nice where you are”

You’d texted Harrison a few times, regretting it almost immediately after. He was sweet, telling you that Tom would come around eventually and to just be patient. You’d relied on those kind words for some time, eventually deleting them all together.

After Tom’s first text, you’d realized he wasn’t coming around or regretting what he’d said to you. He was lonely, maybe even a bit desperate. For months you had been there to listen to him and hold him, and now you were gone.

You’d fed into it the first few times, sitting on the phone with him for hours at a time. Then you started to feel worse hearing his voice, silent sobs escaping as you’d listen to him ramble. Then your finger would linger over the decline button a little longer than usual when he’d call, until eventually you started to use it.

“And I hope the sun shines and it’s a beautiful day,

And something reminds you,

You wish you had stayed”

Once you started to go out with other guys, Tom’s ‘I miss you’ texts became more infrequent. Paparazzi would snap pictures, and the next morning they’d be plastered all over the internet.

There was no doubt he was seeing you going out with other people, watching article after article about who you were dating surface. Would he be jealous? No, you thought. Tom was probably doing the same thing as you. Hopeless hookups, meaningless blind dates.

“You can plan for a change in the weather and time”

One early morning, you found yourself in a sweatshirt you’d stolen from one of his drawers and forgotten to return. Listening to the morning rush of traffic and hugging yourself, noticing the lingering smell of his cologne.

You wondered if he knew you’d taken it, if he would think you were pathetic wearing it months after you two had broken things off. This only made you clutch yourself a little tighter, closing your eyes and trying to remember.

“But I never planned on you changing your mind”

[sweatersstyles]

or the one where you forget harry’s birthday and try desperately to make it up to him

just wanted to write something small to try to get back into writing after my break! thank you all for your encouragement, excitement, and patience and I apologize for it being a few days later than I wanted it to be! this is probably the closest to angst that you’ll ever get from me :)

thank you to @1980holland, @summertimestyles, @tbslenthusiast, @bigspoonstyles​, @angryinternetduck, and @iconicharry for letting me run my ideas by you and being so kind in general. more thanks to @tbslenthusiast and @bigspoonstyles for being the most wonderful beta readers and just lovely friends overall!

this is another part of my dad!harry series so as always they are linked in order if you want to re-visit them or read from the beginning if you choose to!

⭐ I Want Your Belly ⭐ Wonderful and Warm ⭐ Washed Away in You ⭐ Do You Want to Build a Snowman? ⭐ A Styles Family Christmas ⭐

word count: 3.6k

“Harry, I’m running late do you think you could drop Sterling off at the sitter’s on your way to set?”

You’re already dressed, pulling on your shoes and grabbing your bag and keys from where they were tossed next to the dresser from the evening before. You dart into the bathroom to quickly brush your teeth.

Harry pokes his head around the doorframe, a wrinkled shirt in his hand, rushing through his own morning routine, “Thought she was coming here?”

“She can’t today, remember? Today’s our day to drop him off.” You put your toothbrush away just as he joins you, taking the toothpaste from your hand to use for himself.

“Alright, yeah. Y’ll have to pick him up later though, think it’ll be a late one for me today.” 

“That’s fine. I’ll throw his bag together and leave it by the door for you to grab on the way out. He’s already been fed and changed so he should be all set. I’ll transfer his car seat to your car too, so you won’t have to worry about that.”

He still has the toothbrush in his mouth, so you stand on your tiptoes to give him a peck to the cheek, adding a “bye, love you!” on your way out the bathroom door.

“Wait..y’don’t have anything else to say to me before you leave?” His mouth now rinsed, he crosses his arms and leans against the doorway, a tired smile working its way across his lips.

“Um..be careful? Don’t drive too fast with Sterling in the car.” 

“I never drive fast,” He takes a quick peek in the mirror, running his hands through his messy curls before turning back to you, “S’that all? Nothing else to say?”

You search your brain, trying to remember anything else you may have forgotten, “Oh! Right..”

His face lights up then, thinking maybe he was gonna finally hear the words he’d been waiting all morning to hear from you.  

“Make sure you tell the sitter there’s an extra pacifier in the right side of his bag that she can leave there in his cubby in case we ever forget one..and that I’ll drop a pack of diapers and wipes off when I pick him up cause I know he’s running low.”

His brow furrows slightly with disappointment, but you’re too busy to notice, blowing him another kiss before rushing out the door of your shared bedroom and down the hall to get Sterling’s bag ready.

He’s still pouting as he opens his top drawer to select a pair of socks for the day.

He couldn’t believe you forgot it was his birthday.

In your opinion, 6 weeks was not long enough for maternity leave. You’re sure no amount of time in your happy bubble with Harry and Sterling would’ve been enough. 

You were somehow able to push those 6 weeks to 12, your boss kindly agreeing to let you do what work you could from home. Eventually, that extension had to come to an end though and there was no other way you could avoid returning to ‘normal’ life.

You’re an hour into your work day but you still can’t shake the feeling that you had truly forgotten something. Harry’s words from the morning ring through your head again and again but you still couldn’t pinpoint what was special about this particular day. It was a Monday..was there some sort of significant anniversary from your relationship over the years, something small but important to him? 

You grab your phone when you have a chance, a quick lull in your morning that allows you to scroll through your phone’s calendar to double check anything your phone may have not yet notified you about. There’s nothing saved, and it does nothing to jog your memory of what importance today’s date holds. 

A text from Anne comes through and your heart stops when you read the message: Tell the birthday boy his present from me is on the way! I was a day later than I should’ve been sending it out so hope he won’t be too upset with me. All my love to you and Sterling as well!

No. Oh no. Guilt bubbles up through your chest and you cover your mouth to stop from cursing too loudly and scaring your nearby coworkers. You have to steady your hand so you can navigate your way through your contacts to Harry’s number, trying to calculate where in his schedule for the day he may be now. It was too early for him to be taking a lunch break, but you silently prayed he would be on a break in between filming scenes that would allow him to answer.

He had told you in the past that even if he wasn’t able to have his phone with him, it was always nearby. Especially now that you had Sterling, he tried to make himself available no matter how busy his schedule would be for the day. Even if he wasn’t able to answer, he would always make time to call back. 

So when you try 2 times with no success of getting through, you stop. You had both agreed before that 3 calls was your distress signal, and you didn’t want his mind to think the worst when he did see you’d tried to get through to him. A text seems too informal, too little for the man you love and adore. He deserved better than that, better than you, a partner who forgot one of the most important days where he should be made to feel special and loved every second.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know this day was coming, you did, of course you did. Being a new parent had well and truly ruined your memory. Turns out birthing a tiny human requires learning a ton of new information to keep your little one alive, meaning that even almost 3 months later your brain hadn’t been fully restored and you weren’t sure if it ever would be. 

How could you make up for something like this? You suppose you could pretend that it was all a joke; that you’d had this elaborate plan all along to surprise him and make him think that you had forgotten his birthday. But you couldn’t lie to him like that, it would only cause you to hate yourself even more later for covering it up. Plus, Harry knew you too well and would see right through that, and then whatever hurt you’re sure he was feeling now would only grow. 

You know he would eventually forgive you, if he hadn’t already, but that didn’t stop guilt from overriding your thoughts. If anything it made you feel almost worse knowing that he would be so incredibly forgiving.

God, you could only imagine the reaction of the fans if they found out. Some of them already had some questionable opinions about you, a few even going so far as to speculate if Sterling was truly Harry’s child, claiming that you had somehow “trapped” Harry into a relationship with you and that it would eventually fail. Harry had tried to ban you from going too deep, but sometimes your curiosity got the best of you, prompting you to scroll through Twitter or Instagram occasionally. It usually ended with you getting your feelings hurt and Harry having to remind you once again to stay away.

You try to find something in your memory, anything that he may have mentioned wanting (or at this point even needing) over the past few months. Aside from the mundane, everyday things like laundry detergent and shampoo to add to the shopping list, you couldn’t recall a thing. You only had 6 hours before you had to pick up Sterling, so you had to come up with something fast, something amazing.

What do you get for the golden boy who has everything?

You couldn’t believe you didn’t think of it before. It was something you had discovered not long after Sterling’s birth, but like many other things it had gotten easily dismissed and pushed down to the bottom of your list. 

Today, it only takes a few clicks through the website, a double checking of the spelling of the name that will be on the certificate, and a quick selection of a location for where you want it to be for Harry to now be the (hopefully) proud owner of his very own star in the sky.

After all it was Harry who found the name Sterling for your child, it was him who whispered “buonanotte nostra piccola stella” each night as he helped you put Sterling to bed; a phrase he had been most pleased with himself for learning, the Italian to English translation being “goodnight our little star”. If he couldn’t be there to say it, he made sure you knew the proper enunciation of the expression so that you could pass it along from him. It was always followed by 3 kisses to the top of his son’s head.

Thankfully, you were able to use the printer at work to print out the certificate and the map, slipping them both into a manilla envelope and tucking it away in your bag before you clock out for the day. Though you wished you had time to stop and select a nice frame, you only have 30 minutes before having to pick up Sterling, so you opt for a speedy trip to the nearest bakery and grocery store to gather what other supplies you’ll need for the rest of the evening.

By the time you and Sterling make it home, you still haven’t heard anything from Harry. You send up another silent prayer, more for his safety than anything, but also selfishly for yourself and his forgiveness towards you. It wasn’t unusual for you to not hear from him most days, and you remind yourself of his words from that morning about most likely having to work late. 

You push away the guilt that threatens to invade your thoughts again, doing what you need to do for Sterling to keep him content while you start preparations for dinner. Once you have him settled in his swing nearby, you take a moment to scroll through your music selection on your phone, deciding that having something playing in the background would be better than being alone with your thoughts while you work. 

You’ve just washed the veggies to chop for the salad when your phone dings, indicating a new message. You know it’s from Harry, and you’re almost scared to look. Instant relief floods your body when you do have the courage to take a peek: Home in an hour. Love you! Give bub kisses from me xx

The “love you” fills you with overwhelming comfort; takes you back to the day you first met him and how your heart skipped a beat when you realized it was you he was trailing through the crowd of people to approach, a cozy smile plastered on his face. You’ll never forget the gentle way he had spoken and how even though you were surrounded by at least a hundred other people at the party, he didn’t take his eyes off you the whole night. You let out a huge sigh of breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in and contemplate the best way to respond, finally concluding that simple was better.

Be careful, baby. Love you more!! Bubs and I miss you

His text gives you more motivation than you already had to power through making his favorite meal for him. An hour is plenty of time to get everything done, so when Sterling gets fussy and wants to be held, you tuck him against your side, doing what you can with one hand while keeping a tight grip on your son. You know he had missed you when he almost instantly relaxes at being close to you, and your heart hurts at the thought of ever being away from him again, even for something important like your job.

It still takes you a minute to get him calm enough to rest his head on your shoulder, so you don’t hear the sound of the door, or the clink of Harry’s keys or the sound of his footsteps falling down the hallway.

“Need some help, lovie?”

His voice, which normally calms you, nearly makes you jump out of your skin. So when you turn and say, “I thought you said an hour!” it comes out more like an attack than grateful to see him again.

“S’what I thought but we rushed through so I could leave earlier. Is that a problem?” His face is unreadable, somewhere between confused and disappointed with your tone.

“No! Of course not, Harry, I just..” That’s when your voice breaks, your guilt and emotions of forgetting his birthday finally being too much to hold back.

“Hey, don’t do that,” He’s moving the rest of the way through the kitchen to you, a hand smoothing a small circle over your back as you try to wipe your tears, “Please don’t cry.”

“I just wanted to have everything ready by the time you got home, to make up for this morning. For forgetting it was your birthday in the first place. I’m so sorry, H.” 

“You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, angel. You don’t have to make anything up to me. We’ve both been crazy busy lately, I’m surprised I even remembered what day it was. Here, why don’t I put Sterling in his swing and help you finish dinner?”

“No, absolutely not. It’s your birthday and I know you’re tired. Plus, I think he missed us today. You know how much he loves his swing but I didn’t get very much done before he got upset.”

“Alright, well, I’ll take him while you get everything else done. How’s that sound?”

You nod an agreement at his plan, transferring Sterling from your shoulder to his. There’s a few whimpers of disapproval, but he lets out a small sigh of contentment once he realizes it’s Harry who holds him now. Harry turns his head to smack a few kisses to the baby’s cheek to further pacify him. Sterling’s eyes open briefly, gazing sleepily up at his father. 

“Hi, bub, missed you. Let’s go see what kind of trouble we can get into while Mummy makes dinner, huh?” 

“Not too much trouble, boys. It’s almost bedtime,” He winks at you as he turns to leave and you stop him, “Hey, wait, try this. Tell me if it needs anything.”

You stir a spoon through the pasta sauce you’ve had simmering away on the stove, bringing it to his lips with a hand underneath, careful not to drip it down the front of his white button-up or the top of Sterling’s head. He lets you feed him the spoonful, but doesn’t take his eyes off your lips.  Before you even have time to ask him how it is, he’s trapping his mouth against yours, a satisfied hum at the sauce mixing with the taste of you.

“Delicious.” He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, catching a bit of sauce that ended up smudged at the corner of his mouth.

“Really?”

“Really, darling, it’s perfect.” 

At this point it’s obvious he’s not talking about the sauce, and you push yourself up to plant another kiss on his lips.

“Another,” He gently demands, and you oblige, but he doesn’t pull away yet, “C’mon, few more.”

“Looks like Sterling’s not the only needy baby in this house tonight. How many more kisses do you need?”

He smirks down at you, “It’s my 27th birthday, innit? Think I deserve 27 kisses, don’t you?”

You send him away with the promise of fulfilling his request for the rest of his kisses later, finally able to rush through finishing the last of what was needed to complete the meal and call him back to see the table full of everything you’ve prepared. 

Sterling is bright eyed in Harry’s arms again, and you hope that feeding him will lull him back to sleep for the night. With him having to stay with a sitter on the days that you and Harry were both working, you’d recently had to switch to using bottles for some of his meals. The sitter had assured you that he was adjusting to the bottle well when he was with her, but it had been a frustrating transition for you. 

“You’ve just spoiled him to the usual way, love. It’ll get easier. Want me to try?” He holds out his hand, offering to take the bottle and Sterling back, but you refuse. You know Harry’s right, it will get easier eventually, but right now you know he’s just still tired and hungry. So you give in, lifting your shirt and tossing a blanket over him while he eats. 

“Eat so you can blow out your candles and then open your present.”

He sets a plate of food in front of you and passes you a fork so you can eat with your free hand.

His mouth is full of food but his green eyes light up when he looks at you, “I have a present?” 

“Of course you do. It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” 

“Can we skip cake and do the present first?”

You giggle at his excitement, but the truth is you’re nervous. You know he will be nice enough to tell you he loves it, but you also know him well enough to read the truth on his face. 

“Sure, birthday boy, whatever you want.” Sterling’s finished eating by now so you rest him on your shoulder, tapping his back a few times until you hear a small burp. Harry’s plate is mostly empty now, as is yours, so you tuck Sterling into his swing while you go to retrieve the envelope from earlier in the day. Your heart races as you may your way back to where he sits at the table, his eyes covered dramatically as he waits.

“You can open,” You slide the envelope in front of him and prop your chin up on one of your hands as you watch his fingers work to open the clasp. The papers sit upside down on the table and you inhale a deep breath as he flips them over. His face is full of curiosity as his eyes scan the page. 

“Did you..is this real?”

“Well I’m not sure how official it is but, yes, it’s real.” You take the map from behind the certificate and point out the location, “According to this it’s..”

“Is my star right over our house?” His eyes are wide as he studies the coordinates, “Can we go see if we can see it now?”

How can you say no to that? You let him lead you out the back door of your home and out into the cool air of the night. He only lets go of your hand when he reaches the edge of the yard, pointing straight upwards.

“It’s gotta be that big one, right? That mine, right?” You look over his shoulder down at the map and then back up to where he’s pointing.

“Yep, I think that’s the one. Unless..do you have the map upside down?”

“No! Do I?” He squints his eyes, bringing it closer to his face in an attempt to read it in the dark. 

“You definitely did. It’s that one there..to the left of the big one we thought was yours.”

“S’gorgeous, baby,” He tugs your hand until your smushed against his side and he tosses his arm around you, letting out a deep sigh as he continues to stare up at the sky, “Thank you so much.”

“You really like it?” You’ve got both arms wrapped around his middle now, enjoying the feeling of his chest rising and falling.

“I really do, angel. Can’t believe you named a star after me twice.” 

“Twice?” You tilt your head upwards to look at his face.

“Yeah. Twice. That one,” He points up again, “My favorite one though, the greatest gift you will probably ever give me, is probably snoring in his swing right about now.”

As sweet as the moment is, you can’t help but snort out a laugh at that, “If he’s anything like you, he’s definitely snoring right now.”

“Hey, I don’t snore!”

“Oh yes, you do. Feel like I’m sleeping in a cave with a bear sometimes.”

That earns you a big, booming laugh from him, and he pulls you even closer to kiss the top of your head. You turn your body to face him, squeezing him once and kissing his chest through his shirt.

“Happy birthday, Harry.”

“Thank you,” He places his hands on either side of your face, thumbs rubbing along your cheeks, a slow smile sneaking its way across his face, “Can I have the rest of my kisses now?”

The next time Anne and Gemma come to visit, he’s sweeping them down to the end of the hallway leading into your living room, to where he now proudly shows them the framed certificate and map sitting side by side on the wall. Of course they had both already heard about it before. The day after his birthday he had spent 10 minutes on the phone with each of them bragging about it. He’s got Sterling in his arms as he shows it off now. He holds him up next to the two frames.

“How lucky am I, huh? Not every man can say they have two stars named after them, can they?”

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

as always likes, reblogs, replies, and feedback are welcome!

tag list: @1980holland, @summertimestyles, @la-cey, @tbslenthusiast​

[heliossecretdeskdrawer]

So while I haven’t been working much on requests this week due to IRL work, I have been managing to type out a giant chunk (3.3k words atm) of a draft with my thumbs on Scrivener mobile of some IDW1!MegaRatch, prompted on a Discord server I hang out on.

The premise boils down to Megatron and Ratchet attempting to get closure re: their weird relationships w/Optimus, so I’ve decided to share a smaller chunk (~500 words) of it for WIP Wednesday.

The chunk is technically not valveplug, yet, but I’ll tag it that way just for GP. This is not going in the maintags though.

Warnings: Sexual Roleplaying, Swinging (and background relationships), Awkward Idiots

Ratchet thought he knew when he was in too deep. Thought. He liked to consider himself a reasonable mech, not generally given to emotional decision-making. Never mind the numerous examples that pointed to the opposite conclusion, such as running after Drift to convince him to return to the Lost Light, operating a quasi-legal free clinic in the Dead End out of compassion, or any of the other evidence he'd prefer to not acknowledge.

Now, lying on his back on the floor of a borrowed habsuite, covered in red and blue paint in the dimmed light and being straddled about the waist by a retired walking nightmare, Ratchet was doubting his long-held opinion of himself as rational.

At least, Megatron seemed to be taking care to not crush him with his greater weight. Oddly considerate. Well, maybe not that odd. Rodimus had yet to visit the medical bay for interfacing-related injuries since the captains had decided to "share quarters to save space and resources." Plenty of practice, presumably, at handling smaller frames, not that Ratchet was delicate by any means. Drift could attest to that, though it had taken him some time to stop treating him like glass. Not even his literal glass windshield was that easy to shatter. It was safety glass, after all.

"Are you comfortable?"

Ratchet blinked up at the words, optical shutters clicking behind the glass. He was unsure what he ought to make of two red optics burning down at him after all those years of seeing the damage their owner could do on a whim, all those hurt and dead mechs who had crossed his exam table. Despite that, despite knowing all too intimately what could be done to him, Ratchet didn't find himself feeling particularly threatened. Maybe it was all those years of disregarding his own well-being as a medic. A risk to a patient was worth considering, a risk to himself was negligible.

Of course, nowadays Megatron was practically tame, not that Ratchet felt like saying it to his face, not at the moment. Perhaps later. A good insult to keep in his back pocket.

As for comfort, the floor had been cleared of dust and any stray items. A few quilted tarpaulins with thick padding had been laid down, nominally to minimize plating scraping on the floor, but Ratchet knew it was also for Megatron's aching knees. All in all, Ratchet supposed he was as comfortable as he could be without being in a berth, something which had been out of the question. A berth would have been… too intimate for their goals and it would have broken the illusion.

"Aside from the battle mask, yes." It was awkward to talk through and outside of the occasional surgical procedure needing such a precaution, Ratchet was unused to covering his face.

"I'll be fine," he added when Megatron reached down with a hand, probably about to say that Ratchet didn't need to wear it.

"If you're sure…."

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 17

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“We should get champagne or something, to celebrate,” Scully says, her eyes roving over the menu.

After three weeks of rehab, Teena Mulder has finally been able to move home, though she’s under the constant care of an in-home nurse. Knowing that she’s back in her own space, no longer the medical setting that made her miserable, is a huge weight off Mulder’s shoulders. This is why they’re out to dinner, celebrating a hopeful return to what feels like normal.

“Only if you’re driving home,” Mulder replies playfully, “you know what bubbly does to me.”

She gives him a flirtatious smirk. “Yes, I do.”

“Dana?” someone calls out, and they look over to see two women. One is tall and slim with light olive-toned skin and brunette shoulder-length hair. The other is significantly shorter, Latina, with thick hips and an ample bustline, her dark hair cascading down her back.

“Monica, hi,” Scully replies warmly to the tall woman. She turns to the shorter one, “you must be Dahlia.”

“Guilty as charged,” the short woman answers jovially with a heavy Spanish accent.

“This is my boyfriend, Fox Mulder,” Scully continues, gesturing to him, “Mulder, this is Monica, I’ve told you about her.”

Mulder nods in understanding. Scully has often mentioned a woman she regularly has coffee and lunch with who works in VICAP.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Mulder says, offering his hand to Monica.

She takes his hand with a firm grip, then gestures to the short woman, “this is my partner, Dahlia.”

Mulder and Scully both greet Dahlia with handshakes.

“Well, we’ll leave you to your meal, it was nice to run into you,” Monica says.

“Would you like to join us? We haven’t even ordered yet,” Scully offers, giving Mulder a quick glance to confirm that this is okay. He nods almost imperceptibly.

“Oh, we don’t want to impose,” Monica answers.

“Not at all,” Mulder jumps in, correctly picking up that Monica is worried about imposing on him, not Scully, “I’d love to finally get to know this mysterious VICAP woman Scully is always talking about.”

Monica smiles and he moves to the chair beside Scully so she and Dahlia can occupy the other two. They order champagne and appetizers, and he finds the two women to be very pleasant company.

“So, you work in VICAP too, then?” he asks Dahlia, and she gives him a confused look.

“No, I work at a little flower shop in Alexandria,” she answers.

“Oh, sorry, I thought Monica said you were partners.”

Scully shoots him an embarrassed glare, but Dahlia laughs.

“You know, I always tell Monica she should just call me her girlfriend, but she insists on ‘partner,’” she says, looking at Monica affectionately. He can’t help but smile, realizing he’d missed the very obvious fact that they are lovers.

“Girlfriend sounds so juvenile to me,” Monica explains, “partner feels a bit more serious, and permanent.”

“It’s okay, mija,” Dahlia continues, “you can call me your partner, hasta el día en que puedas ser mi esposa.”

Monica beams at her, and while he didn’t understand a word of that, it’s plainly clear that they are very much in love.

Appetizers come and go, flutes of champagne are emptied and refilled and a second bottle is ordered. Scully brings up Monica’s education and her experiences working at the New Orleans field office, and she and Mulder carry on a conversation about the change in VooDoo practices over the course of generations while Scully and Dahlia discover that they have similar taste in literature. Dahlia is telling a story about reading a Spanish translation of Jane Eyre as a teenager and how she still, to this day, has a hard time not calling him “Señor Rochester,” when the waiter brings by the check and Mulder snatches it away just as Dahlia was reaching for it.

“My treat,” Mulder says, pulling out his wallet.

Dahlia gives Monica a look, saying “me gusta este chico,” and Mulder chuckles.

“That I understood,” he quips, and they all laugh.

Back at the apartment, they get ready for bed. Scully is standing at the sink brushing her teeth when Mulder slinks up behind her, slipping his hands onto her hips and dipping his head down to kiss her neck.

“Mmm, there’s that champagne,” she says, the words garbled around her toothbrush.

“It’s not that champagne makes me want you, Scully. I always want you. It just makes me a little more bold,” he explains, trailing his fingers down to the hem of her night shirt and lifting it enough to get a look at her panties.

She swats his hand away. “Let me finish brushing my teeth,” she chastises, and he retreats to the bedroom.

She joins him a few minutes later, slipping under the sheets and draping her bare leg over his. He lifts his arm so she can burrow against his torso, her head on his chest. He rubs his hand across her back, eliciting a contented sigh.

“So, what did you think of Monica?” she asks, her fingertips on his ribcage moving in small circles.

“I really like her, I can see why you two hit it off,” he answers.

“She reminds me a little of you, actually,” she says, and he can feel her smile against his skin. “She has some...out there ideas.”

“Am I not talking enough about cryptids at home, Scully? You had to go find a friend to supplement?” he asks playfully, dipping his fingers into her armpit briefly in a threat to tickle her.

She clamps her arms against her sides and giggles. “We don’t talk much about that, but when I first met her she told me about my aura, so I figured you two would have some things in common.”

“That sounds more like Missy’s purview,” he comments, and then they fall silent for a moment.

“I’m actually really glad we ran into her,” Scully begins, running her hand down his abdomen to rest just beneath his belly button. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about and I wasn’t sure how to bring it up without you having some context.”

“Scully, if you’re about to suggest we have a foursome with Monica and Dahlia, I’m going to owe Frohike five hundred bucks,” he interjects.

She scoffs, “in your dreams, Mulder.”

“I think you mean Melvin.”

“Well, sorry Melvin, but that’s not what I was thinking about.” Her thumb hooks just beneath the elastic of his boxers, his happy trail tickling her skin.

“Okay, sorry, what were you thinking about?”

“What if,” she begins, dragging her finger back and forth under the fabric, “Monica was your partner. On the X files.”

He puts his hand over hers to still the movement, pulling away a bit so she’ll look at him.

“What do you mean, Scully?” He feels a rush of adrenaline, though he’s not yet sure if it’s from excitement or fear.

“I mean, she’s open to...unexplainable phenomena. The two of you get along quite well, and she wouldn't try to debunk your work or scoff at your theories. You said they might let you reopen them if you had a partner you could work with, and I think Monica might be that person.”

He considers this for a moment. “Who’s to say she’d even want to, she’s assigned to VICAP-”

“She hates VICAP,” Scully interjects, “it’s a bunch of macho men trying to one-up each other. I know she’d be happy to be reassigned, and to work out of the Hoover building. She and Dahlia live in Palisades; her commute sucks.”

His mind is reeling, but he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. “I don’t even know where we’d start, Scully. It seems so unlikely.”

“Just ask for a meeting with AD Skinner. If you think it would help for Monica to be a part of that meeting, I know she’d be happy to attend. I’ve told her a bit about The X files and I wouldn’t even bring this up with you unless I was sure she’d be interested. I can talk to her about it on Monday, if you want to give it a shot.”

He looks up at the ceiling, eyebrows stitched in thought. Hope pricks at the corners of his mind, but he knows well enough not to let it take root; he’s been disappointed too many times before. He looks over at Scully, her expression holding all the hope that he won’t allow himself to feel.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks gently.

“Because I want you to be happy,” she says earnestly, pulling her hand from beneath his and bringing it to his cheek, “from the moment I met you, I saw how you light up when you talk about The X Files. If there’s a chance you can investigate them again, I want to pursue it.”

He sighs, a tender smile tugging at his lips. He turns on his side, pushing his palms under her ass and pulling her on top of him as she giggles.

“Okay, talk to Monica,” he says, sliding his hands under her sleep shirt and up her bare back, “I’ll email Skinner on Monday.”

She smiles at him, self-satisfied and victorious.

“Now, about that champagne,” he says, pulling her down for a kiss.

———

She nervously checks her email every two minutes, aggressively clicking the send/receive button. Monica and Mulder were meeting with AD Skinner at 11:00am and it’s now almost 1:00pm and she hasn’t heard anything. That could either be a very good sign, or a very bad one. She has class in ten minutes and needs to head over to the lecture hall to prepare. She refreshes it one more time, and an email pops up.

From: fmulder@fbi.gov

Sent: September 18, 1997 12:51pm

To: dscully@fbi.gov

Subject: Maybe good news?

He didn’t say no, but he didn’t say yes, either. He asked us about 800 questions and then said he had to run it by the section chief. My impression is that he wants to make it work, but obviously it’s not totally within his control.

Fingers crossed. Hopefully we’ll know by Friday.

She heaves a big sigh, a cautious smile playing on her lips. She shoots him a quick response and then makes her way to class, praying all the way that the answer will be yes.

———

She’d taken that Friday off, for no reason in particular. Ever since Mulder had effectively moved in with her, she liked to take random weekdays off here and there just to have some time to herself. She’d spent the afternoon reading, re-arranging her spice cupboard, and making space for Mulder to have half her dresser instead of just one drawer. She’s sitting on the floor of the bedroom, surrounded by neatly folded stacks of T-shirts and pajama pants, when she hears the front door open. She checks her watch; it’s only 3:00 pm, too early for Mulder to be home.

“Hello?” she calls out nervously.

The bedroom door swings open and Mulder is there, his chest heaving and a dopey smile on his face.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, “what are you doing home?”

“It was approved,” he says breathlessly, apparently having run from wherever he parked the car.

“What was approved?” she asks, standing.

“The X Files, Scully. They’re reopened, effective Monday, with me and Reyes as the assigned agents,” he says, his smile broadening even further.

Her mouth drops open in disbelief, a surprised smile forming on her lips. She had held out hope, but she was also very aware that the chances were slim. He crosses the room, scooping her up in his arms, her legs wrapping around his hips.

“It never would have happened if it wasn’t for you,” he says, adoration in his eyes.

She kisses him, and he turns to lay her on the bed, shedding his suit jacket and tossing it on the floor. Moving quickly, desperately, he tugs at the waistband of her pants, stripping them off along with her panties, and pushes her shirt up to expose her breasts. He begins kissing her neck, down to her chest and belly, pausing intermittently to speak words of affirmation and gratitude until he reaches the apex of her thighs and is quiet.

He laps at her tenderly, humming and sighing as her body catches up and she feels the flush of desire form in her belly. She pushes her fingers into his hair, scraping gently at his scalp in encouragement as he flicks his tongue against her opening and she bucks her hips in response. His thumb swipes gently over her clit as he pushes his tongue inside her, licking at her increasingly slick walls and making her whimper. After a few minutes, he switches to his fingers inside her and his tongue at her clit. Swirling and sucking until she commands him not to stop, he holds steady as she falls apart against his lips, flexing his fingers deep inside to draw it out. Finally she taps on his head, and he crawls back up to plant soft kisses along her jaw.

“Consider us even,” she breathes out, eyes still closed in bliss.

“I think I might like to continue making it up to you,” he says with a nip to her earlobe, and she laughs.

“Okay, if you insist.”

[vanquishedvaliant]

So there’s this trend I’m seeing on social media about people boycotting / encouraging people not to buy the upcoming Mass Effect remasters.

The reasonings being somewhat varied, some valid, others not, but mostly centering around one thing in specific; cut content relating to same sex relationships that didn’t make it into the games.

Now, I understand not being interested in the product being offered; I’m probably not going to buy it myself for a lack of specific features like multiplayer and... just not needing the buy the game for my fifth or sixth time. It’s completely valid to think the remasters are just not doing enough for you to justify a purchase, or that their faith in the company doing it properly in their current state isn’t there. I get that.

But the mood that’s come up lately isn’t just disinterest; it’s downright outrage. Violent, ideologically charged opposition to even the concept of the remasters because of a perceived failure to meet their extremely specific and often high standards and notions of progressiveness.

Now it’s not exactly news that Bioware has had a rocky relationship with inclusivity over the years, with queer characters flitting in and out of recognition and prominence, appropriation of queer archetypes, and less than stellar execution of what characters they do include. I’ve had my complaints with these myself from time to time, though it’s still always struck me historically as a generally positive, if clumsy attempt at progress that I appreciated despite the flaws; remember that the original Mass Effect 1 came out in 2007, and was the focus of a major media scandal about even including romantic relationships at all in the game, nevermind same sex ones. That’s 14 years ago! The most recent game in the series is 9 years old!

We can talk about the social standards of the times and the progress we’ve made, and we can also talk about the merits of restoring and improving media as it was, or recreating it to more closely reflect the values of today and which or both of them is a worthwhile pursuit, but I don’t think that’s what’s being sincerely argued here.

What we see instead is some protestation that failure to make the exacting changes that they see fit according to their personal ideology is some kind of radically regressive statement, as if it’s a conscious, malicious decision and not either one made in good faith or not at all. This movement has collectively decided that the remaster needs to contain exactly the changes that fit their fleeting whims or the entire thing’s at best a wash and a wasted effort, and in some cases a ‘homophobic’ statement of hatred, or cynically callous laziness. 

Let’s remember; the focus of this argument is the presence of available simulated dating options in a 14 year old game. The arguments posits that some of these alternative options are ones that were cut from the release of the games, notably the first one, and have some or numerous assets that exist in various forms within the game files that with some work can be accessed in the game with user-made modifications. Some of this is true; though much of it is exaggerated or misconstrued in terms of its scope or viability.

Many of these people just assume that this cut content that someone else has restored in a mod somewhere is just some sort of simple toggle done in moments without effort, ignoring the work those modders did on their own time and money to introduce those features. 

Even if we just hand wave any standards of quality or continuity or polish and integration these mods have, you have to consider the dozens to hundreds of volunteer man hours of labor these fans put into many of those mods to make them viable that a company paying it’s employees a fair wage and time to do without overworking has to budget. Which I should mind to you is something also incredibly topically relevant in game dev these days. Adding new content costs money. Restoring old content, still costs money.

Even then, the viability of many of those original assets is at question in itself; the 'ingredients’ used to create the content are not equivalent to the ‘cooked’ content found in the game files, so some of them are difficult to work with or lacking in features or quality. Hell, we know for a fact that half of the god damn development data for ME1 is just fucking gone, which is why the DLC isn’t making an appearance in the remaster at all; it just doesn’t exist anymore and would need to be remade from utter scratch.

Now there’s a dozen reasons undertakings like these would or wouldn’t make their list of priorities for remaster given the other work they are doing re; texture and model uprezzing, gameplay updates, etc. It’s not exactly strange for them to recreate the game largely as it was with a more limited scope of changes. Perhaps the decision was made to preserve some parts of the game largely as it was; with mostly minor cosmetic changes to things like Miranda’s camera angles; things that don’t have much overhead or ripple effect. Perhaps restoring the content was considered, but didn’t make the cut- maybe for the same reasons it didn’t make it into the game in 2007. Maybe for different ones.

Only the people involved know.

Now, would I like to see some of that content restored and improved? Sure! I think it’d have been a great thing if they’d promoted the series as having new or restored content; if they’d promised us such things. But they haven’t, and while it’s one thing to praise taking an initiative like that if they had, I think it’s completely unreasonable to be outraged that they didn’t.

We can celebrate that kind of outstanding and excellent steps forward in inclusivity, but we have to understand that while someone not being ahead of the curve may not be exciting or even disappointing; it is not in itself an act of directed aggression. And treating it like one is a waste of time and energy that we can direct to protesting actual aggression, or celebrating those outstanding steps.

But here’s the major thing that kills me; all those mods they love and praise aren’t going anywhere.

The remaster will come out and unless Bioware is so completely tone deaf and media blind from the past year they pull a WC3, the old versions of the game will all still be available. All those user made mods they cite in these arguments about “how easy” it is to add content to the game will still be there, ready to play as they always were. Some of them might even work or be easily made to work with the new versions!

All of that will still be there! And we’ll have access to a new version of the trilogy that is far more accessible to new players who haven’t yet been exposed to so much of the games content that they are desperate for more of it.

Just look at Mass Effect 1; that game has not aged well, and it was kind of a sloppy mess even when it came out! How many new players can we get to enjoy all the good things the series has to offer with an easily accessed, more enjoyable package to play through the entire series without issue? I’ve done numerous replays of the trilogy through the years, and Mass Effect 1 is always a huge stumbling block. It’s just a pain in the ass, straight out. Don’t you want at least the option to fix that?

And if not, you don’t have to buy it and no harm is done to you! Enjoy your existing version with your mods and familiar features and flaws.

And if you truly, genuinely care so passionately about Bioware improving their record of inclusivity; look instead to the new game that’s coming out and look forward to that instead. Every game in the franchise has been better than the last at this; ME1 cut the same sex relationships, but ME2 had some. ME3 had even more, and then Andromeda had yet even further than that after patching!

How many will the new game have?

Look forward to that and make it clear to bioware you’re looking for that in their games; just.... ease off this ridiculous vitriol in trying to get people to avoid the remaster because it’s not good enough for you. No one needs to have this bullying done to either the developers themselves or the players looking to buy the game for themselves or others. It’s simply not productive.

Especially with this franchise’s sordid history with excessive media outrage and entitlement that’s been absolutely exhausted.

Just... relax. And have some perspective.

[potteresque-ire]

This post is Part 3 of the five-part meta series on the Zhang Zhehan (張哲瀚) Incident, based on what has transpired up to 2021/08/22.

1) The 2nd Sino-Japanese War (1937-45) & the Yasukuni Shrine 2) Post-War Sino-Japanese Relations; “Every Chinese should visit the Yasukuni Shrine” 3) The Summer of 2021: The Brewing Storms for One 4) My Thoughts on Zhang’s Incident, Part A 5) My Thoughts on Zhang’s Incident, Part B

3) The Summer of 2021: The Brewing Storms for One

Parts 1 and 2 are my very rough, … kindergartenish introduction to the historical background of Zhang’s incident. For the sake of brevity (please don’t laugh), there are so many things I haven’t touched on (such as the role of the U.S., the geopolitics). There are even more things I’ve likely missed from my admitted ignorance (Sorry).

I think a fair summary of what I’ve written so far would be as follows, before we move on to other sociopolitical factors related to Zhang’s incident?

It is true that the Japanese government, while having shown signs of repentance, has yet to truly face its own past. 

It is also true that the Chinese government has been taking advantage of its national tragedy to fuel nationalistic sentiments, to spread hatred for the purpose of propaganda ...

... Propaganda that is highly sensitive to timing, the message the regime wants to send at the moment. 

In August, 2021, Sino-Japanese relations is at a nadir. The brief thaw in early 2020, initiated by the Japanese government donating masks to Wuhan when COVID first broke out, seemed to be as old as the Chinese poem printed on the shipping boxes:  山川異域 風月同天 (“Our mountains and rivers are on different lands, but our winds and moon share the same sky”)—from the 779 BCE work of a Tang dynasty monk who had sailed to Japan as a missionary, affirming the long cultural bond between the two nations. China would give masks back to Japan.

Fast forward eighteen months later, this good will is all but gone in Chinese news, on Chinese social media. The Japanese government had just vowed to join the United States to protect Taiwan, should the Chinese government furthers its military threat towards the island — the People’s Liberation Air Forces had already intruded Taiwan’s air defence zone 393 times between January 1st and August 17th of 2021 — or should the Chinese government attempts to take over the democratic island nation by force. 

Late July came, and the Tokyo Olympics presented the opportunity for the Chinese state to broadcast anti-Japanese sentiments among the general populace. 

Like USSR and the Eastern Bloc before, the Communists-ruled China saw the Olympics medal count as a matter of national pride. After the Games began, the hot search turned immediately from the Henan flood to stories of the Tokyo Games’ subjectively awful organisation, alleged cheatings by the Japanese athletes, and the perceived unfairness of, in particular, Japanese judges towards the Chinese team that cost the latter more and better medals. This fervour cumulated to the cyberbullying of Japanese athletes by high-on-nationalism Chinese netizens, who brought back Japan’s past as a reason why Japan and its people should be universally hated. Reminders of the horrific brutality of the Imperial Japanese Army eighty years before the Games surfaced in Chinese social media posts. The derogatory slangs 小日本 (“Little Japan”), and 鬼子 (Guizi “demons”), the latter harking back to the nickname of the Imperial Japanese Army during World War II, populated online Olympics discussions.

Japanese netizens are aware of the derogatory terms Chinese nationalistic netizens use against them. In 2010, they fought back the 小日本 and 鬼子 insults by designing cute anime characters for these names. (Source1, Source2). 

August, 2021 is not a good time to be accused of liking the Japanese.

August, 2021 is not a good time to be accused of liking the Japanese, especially if the accused is a celebrity in the c-ent industry. The ongoing Clear and Bright Campaign (清朗行動) includes, as its 8th aim, the “regulation of stars and the organisations behind them, internet behaviour of their official fan clubs”. Possibly as a welcome to the summer vacation for the country’s youth, on June 15th, 2021, the Cyberspace Administration of China (CAC) had announced it would spend the next two months focused on rectifying the “chaos caused by fan circles” (‘飯圈’亂象). 

The Kris Wu (吳亦凡) case that had exploded in July then turned the public’s attention (and imagination) squarely on c-ent and the alleged “insanity” of c-ent fandoms, particularly those of idols. Wu’s fans had been met with ridicule and cyberbullying, especially those who had tried to “save” their idol by attempting to perform, when the incident had first broken out, what is customary per Chinese fan circle culture—to drown the criticisms with their supportive messages, their defences of their favourite stars; with their offences towards the accusers and in some cases, who the fans point to as the true culprits accompanied by the necessary “evidences”. Widespread reports of Wu’s fans planning a prison break after Wu’s arrest, propagated by the state media despite the number of such fans could’ve numbered to no more than a handful, further fuelled the narrative that c-ent idol worship has become cult-like, with the fans being so brainwashed that they can no longer distinguish right or wrong. 

This narrative of “fans would say or do anything to defend an idol” means that if or when accusations fall on the latter, little can be said in their defence even if the defence has its merits. Fans who make the defence are accused of being “brain-disabled” (腦殘); non-fans, of being brain-disabled fans in disguise.

Political cartoon from People’s Daily, 2021/08/02, 2 days after Kris Wu’s arrest (English translations by me). The slogan at the bottom says ��The Deformed “Fan Circle Culture” has turned cold”. “Turning cold” (涼了) means to lose popularity. (Source) 

Last but not least, in August 2021, the online platforms that host the content of state propaganda, of fandom talk, of c-idols’ works are also in quicksand themselves. Without getting into too much details, since earlier this year, the Chinese government has been targeting the tech giants, once considered untouchable with their significant contributions to the economy. Most international fans of c-ent are likely familiar with Tencent. Alibaba is also a major player in c-ent: it’s the owner of Youku, for example; it is also a major investor of Sina (the company in control of Weibo) and also—a piece of trivia for turtles—of Yuehua (Dd’s management company). These tech companies have been charged with antitrust violations, been the target of cybersecurity probes, accused by the state media of hurting China’s youth with “spiritual opium” in the form of video games etc, and their stock prices have been tumbling as a result. 

The tech giants, and the online platforms under their ownership, have therefore been extra vigilant, extra compliant to messages from the state, in attempts to gain the government’s favour. Just a few days ago (2021/08/21), Tencent vowed to donate 7.7 billion USD to the government, heeding Xi’s call for “common prosperity” (re-distribution of wealth), adding to the 7.7 billion USD it already donated in April for the government’s “sustainable social values” program. While both donations are officially philanthropic, most political and market watchers interpret the donations as Tencent trying to achieve a less-than-philanthropic goal—to get the state regulators off its back.

Following this line of logic then, these tech giants, and their online platforms, have got to be extra quick on their feet in August 2021 to sever ties with anyone perceived to have drawn the displeasure of the government. If that anyone is a c-ent idol, the loss for removing their works and fandom content is nothing compared to the price these companies may pay if the eyes of the state regulators train upon them: the latest fine Alibaba paid for breaking the anti-monopoly law, in April, amounted to 2.8 billion USD.  

All these factors considered, there are better days … far better days than the ones in August 2021, for a c-ent idol to have his Yasukuni Shrine visit become an item on Weibo’s hot search.

===

The Zhang Zhehan Incident Meta Series:

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3  <- YOU ARE HERE PART 4 PART 5

[darkacademicfrom2021]

The Dark Team (part 6)

<<Previous part Masterlist   Next part>>

Join the taglist in here (Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87)

“What did you fuck up?”, you heard Loki’s sharp whisper through the earbud, while you frantically searched through papers and papers and some more papers.

“I didn’t fuck up. I have the guy. I have information”, cleared Bucky. “Hey, DON’T MOVE”, he shouted at the kidnapped, cocking his gun. He cleared his throat before talking again. “Good and bad news”.

“Must be Christmas”, you said.

“No, Christmas is when you only have good news”, said Bucky.

“Not in my family. Generally, there was only bad news and food. Food was the good news”.

“I love how professional and focused on the mission you two are. Stark would be so proud”.

“Wait, I’m invested now. Tell me more about your family, y/n”.

“For the Norns, I don’t have much time. The information, Barnes”. You could hear Loki's footsteps resonate. According to plan, he should've been walking through a hall full of burocrats, so he was right; he did not have much time.

“Okay, so, I know who has the stick”.

“Good”.

“He’s dead”.

“Not so good”.

“Not really, no”.

“What do we do now?”.

An alarm on the building had set off and every door locked down, with a man on a speaker announcing the disappearance of an important object followed by an awfully accurate description of the three of you.

“We run, that’s what we do now”.

You didn’t have to say more. Bucky threw himself off the window before it finished closing. You looked around desperately, trying to find a way to free yourself from that office. Two security guards entered the room screaming for you to get on the floor, and instead you made an unstable wall with the desk and chairs, avoiding getting shot and giving you enough time to figure out some sort of weapon to take them down.

The watch was already used, the knives were useless if they had guns, you didn’t have a gun yourself (silly you), and the parachute was apparently not working anymore, so you couldn’t jump off the window like your teammates. Damn.

“By any chance”, you whispered through your microphone “could you tele…”, but Loki gave you no time to finish the sentence and teleported himself to the office, still in the shape of a security guard.

“My dearest friend”, he said to one of the shooters, opening his arms welcomingly, “how’s the family?”.

“What the fuck, Robert?” asked angrily one of the real guards. “How did you…”.

Loki kicked off his gun and touched his head with a halo of green lights, making him fall unconscious to the floor. He looked up and down at the second security guard and formed half a smile.

“And what about your wife? Is she well?”.

“You ain’t Robert, ain’t ya?”.

“Mmh, nah”.

You grabbed the second security guard from behind and made him trip, immobilizing his arms and legs, and held his own gun to his head. Loki watched you amused, and then transformed back into himself.

“Oh, there you are”, you greeted him. “Did Buck say anything about the walking dead?”.

“The… what?”.

“The man with the stick. If he’s dead, who activated the alarm? Someone has to have it”.

“He didn’t say anything else. Can’t you track it down?”.

“If I could, why would we have done all of this for?”.

“Point made”.

“I need to get back to our room, take some things off the checklist before going all in for a new plan”.

“Alri…”, he started saying, but his gaze fell back on the immobilized guard you were holding down. “What are you planning on doing with him? He saw our faces”.

“If you let me live I won’t talk about this at all”, he pleaded, face squished against the floor. “I have kids, please”.

“He’s lying, he has no kids”, he said with a neutral face, and you looked at him trying to tell him to communicate telepathically. Surprisingly, he understood. “What?”.

“I’m not killing him, what do we do?”.

“Just kill him, what’s all the fuss about?”. You looked at him horrorized and he rolled his eyes “alright, just threaten him enough”.

You let him go, still pointing the gun at him, and gestured to the door so he could leave. When he reached for the door knob, you shot twice at the wall, mere inches from his head, and he froze in place.

“Talk and I’ll find you”, you threatened.

“I won't say a word, I promise”.

You looked at Loki and he nodded, letting you know the man was telling the truth. You kept your eyes fixed on him while he ran away, terrified. Must be new, you thought. Loki grabbed your waist.

“What the Hell are you doing?”, you pushed him away.

“Teleporting us, as you asked”.

“You have to grab me to do that?”.

“I don’t have to. It’s so you get stability”.

“Oh. Give me a big bear hug, then. No, better, let’s cuddle” you spat with sarcasm. He sighed annoyed, massaging his temples.

“Fine. I’m not even touching you”.

As he teleported both of you, you felt your whole body tear its own cells apart and dissolve, and then regenerate them. Your head spinned like it never has, and something hit your head; but you weren’t sure if it was the floor, a wall or the roof, for your sense directions were nowhere to be found. You took a few seconds to compose yourself before opening your eyes once everything stopped moving. When you finally managed to realize where your head even was, your eyes met with Loki’s, who was holding back a smirk with his arms crossed.

“Reconsidering that cuddle next time, are you?”.

“That was… hilarious. Such a shame I missed the previous part to give me context, though”, said Bucky from the counter of the hotel room, munching on some chips. “Look, the tiny fridge had these. You were right, they’re actually great”.

“Yeah. Grab whatever, they’re on Stark’s”, you said, still with your head a bit fuzzed. Loki offered his hand to help you get up but you did it yourself. He sighed.

“How do you fit your clothes with that huge ego of yours?”.

“I don’t, I walk around naked”, you answered, opening the nearest laptop and starting to work on the checklist.

That night was like the last one. Dark, silent and with your head full on the work. Bucky was barely snoring, and Loki was sitting on his bed reading a book. Every once in a while you glanced up your work to look at how painfully beautiful he was. You hated every thought about it, of course, but you couldn’t deny his sight grew on you a bit. He was an asshole, of course. A parasite on your head. An inconvenience. A distraction, sometimes. But the warm light of the bed lamp and the shadows it formed on half of his face enhanced his features, almost like a sculpture, a piece of art.

While you thought of that you checked on his expressions, making sure he wasn’t listening to your highly embarrassing thoughts.

After a few hours, Bucky had already woken up and you were still spread on the floor, surrounded by the files and laptops from before. The light conversation had caught half the attention of the God, who was still reading peacefully. He seemed so calm you wondered what kept him up anyways.

“You think he still has it on him?”, asked Bucky, changing his shirt.

“I think it’s a possibility. I’m tracking his body down. Should be in the morgue by now, maybe they haven’t taken off his clothes yet. But if not, the security cameras would have recorded who took it from the body”.

“Groovy”.

"Oh my God, James".

"What?".

"What does groovy even mean?".

"You know... it's like saying cool beans".

"Coo... alright".

After a while, you collected all the data you needed for tomorrow. You were so exhausted your eyes were getting dry and blurry. Loki was still reading in that same place, not even fazed by the amount of hours that had happened. You got up to clean the dishes from the last meal, and he lifted his gaze up from the book.

“Wait”, he stopped you. With a wrist movement, the dishes got as clean as they could get and arranged on the shelf. You chuckled.

“I wish I had that ability”.

“Are you going to sleep now?”.

“A few hours”.

“Sleep here”, he said from his bed. You looked at Bucky’s; he fell asleep back again.

“You haven’t slept yet. I don’t want to occupy your bed”.

“I won’t, don’t worry”, you nodded, kind of worried he might pass out of tiredness in the middle of the mission. Why the hell was he not sleeping? “If it doesn’t bother you, I’d rather finish this book on here too”.

“I think there’s enough space”.

He moved and gave you space for half of the tiny bed, and you laid by his side with your arms crossed and a leg on top of the other. He went back to his book, and even though he was sitting and your sight couldn’t reach the pages, you were sure it was in Old Norse.

“What are you reading?”.

He didn’t answer right away. Doubtfully as in to share it with you or not, he then proceeded.

“Hamlet. It’s a translation in Old Norse from an author I adore. I’d say it’s an even better version than Shakespeare’s”.

You felt yourself about to smile. You tried not to, but you probably did. That was your favourite piece of literature of all times. You wondered how could that have gotten to Asgardian hands, and why would he (certainly a Midgardian hater) want to read Earth’s literature. You were so curious in that version. Was it really that good, that would be better than Shakespeare himself? Sadly, you didn’t even know how to say hello in that language.

“Do you like it so far?”.

“I’m re-reading it. Brings good memories”, he said with a subtle smile he had hoped you wouldn’t notice. But you did. Something in your chest warmed up a bit and you shook it off. No, no. Not feelings. Don’t confuse your physical attraction, don’t feed your touch starved soul. No. You had to repeat to yourself a couple of times. You were just very, very tired.

“Brings good memories to me too. I love this book”. You figured it was alright to open up a little. The situation was relaxed enough. He wasn’t snarky or avoidant. He looked… melancholic. Sad, even. Like a facet of himself he didn’t allow everyone to see.

You connected with that. Maybe you could even relate to him in some way. For years, you had a feeling of something not adding up quite right. A longing for something you couldn’t exactly pin up. Melancholy for a blank space.

But there you were, barely knew him for three days yet felt close enough. Not too much. Just a feeling. Just the traces of something that maybe happened in another life. But in this one, you would get the mission done and leave. So don’t get attached, you ordered yourself.

“It’s a really good version”.

“Wish I could read it but I don’t know Old Norse”, you said slower than you intended. Loki chuckled at your tiredness. Maybe you could push your curiosity a little further. What was the damage? That he could just say ‘piss off’ or something like that? “What good memories does it bring to you?”.

He sighed and muttered almost to himself “I used to read it to my beloved”.

You almost gasped, surprised he actually answered you. You didn’t ask for more. It was already a lot he had just trusted you with. He told you he had a beloved. You didn’t even know he had a lover, but of course he had. He was nearly a thousand years old; why wouldn’t he? Did he lose that lover, in past tense?

Curiosity grew bigger on you, but fear pushed you aback. But the questions floated around in your head as a lullaby. Your head started to weigh a little more on the pillow and everything happened slightly slower. Loki closed the book and left it resting on his lap. He whispered “I feel you have questions”, and you denied it with your head. Your eyelids fell heavier than before.

“I’m mmnmnnhnm”, you managed to sort of say before getting knocked down by sleep. You heard his laughter, but nothing more after that.

[serpenttailedangel]

Rune Factory 5 impressions

(I think I’m about halfway through the story atm. I have a few characters I still haven’t unlocked.)

General Feel

The overall vibe is exactly what you would expect from an RF game, which is great. The town atmosphere and characters all have a comfy, kinda nostalgic RF feel to them and in terms of the general story and character writing, it feels like the developers could have started in on this project the day they finished RF4, for how on-point they are at recapturing the overall spirit of the series.

Dungeons

I have yet to encounter a gimmick as annoying as the rooms that burn you whenever you stand in them. Which honestly is the only thing I was really hoping for. Otherwise, there’s a few hazards but that’s the worst of it. Crop plots in-dungeon still not returning. I think those haven’t been seen since RF3 now?

Visually, the overall designs are alright. I feel like they’re not as interesting looking as the 2D painted dungeons from the handheld games, but they’re certainly more creative looking than ToD. I would have really loved if they redid the dungeon setup from Frontier where you had a spike in difficulty between each dungeon floor, and it made progress slow as you had to take time to improve with each level before you could reach the next one, But that’s something that they didn’t really do again since Frontier, except for the endgame bonus dungeon in RF4, so I wasn’t holding my breath to see that return here.

Farming

Go to settings and tell the game not to automatically change your camera angle whenever you step into a field.

Basically it’s RF4 farming. A lot of the quests on the quest board even re-teach you the same mechanics added in RF4. (Which, tbf, I forgot some of them. It’s been a while.) I think there’s an extra feature now where the day you harvest can effect the size of your harvest, but I’m too impatient to hold off on harvesting so I haven’t tried it.

The additional farms being unlocked through story progression is fine, but I honestly would have preferred they kept it as plots you can find in the wild. Or bring back in-dungeon fields! Teleporting onto the backs of dragons to reach my additional plots gives me PTSD flashbacks to ToD, even if the farming is otherwise fine. I guess this is so you’re not building monster barns in areas where monsters spawn, and it’s really a personal taste nitpick, but it’s still something I’m not wild about.

Combat

Seems pretty solid. I mostly like the lock-on feature except that it’s sometimes a pain to switch to my intended target when a lot of enemies are all moving around. Ghost monsters that disappear and reappear are once again my most hated monster because of how they can circumvent the auto-lock, but it’s not a real combat flaw so much as something that makes it harder to coast. (It definitely beats encountering them in RF2.)

That being said, picking up items is kind of annoying? Like, more so than I remember it having been in previous games. You can usually auto pick up fallen items by running over them, but where you’re auto-picking up or doing it manually, I feel like the items have way too small a hit box. (I do appreciate that they sparkle tho. I would miss most of the green herbs if they didn’t do that.)

Crafting

Same as in RF4. Right down to upgrading using garbage items being the easiest way to grind your crafting level. Except I think they made it easier? I don’t remember weeds being a viable reinforcement item in RF4.

Romance

Basically it’s RF4, but triggering events is way less annoying because instead of it being totally random, you get a marker on your map whenever you meet the criteria for an even to play out, and can go to the location in question and activate the event whenever you’re ready.

I think the final portion of the first event with Martin progressed me to the next day without restoring my RP tho? There’s a cheap exploit to restore RP without any in-game time passing that only costs some of your Switch battery, but I was still kinda miffed.

Visuals

I see complaints about frame-rates, but honestly I don’t notice stuff like that unless a game really lags, and mine hasn’t. Besides, the dev team would have to try to make the game run worse than RF2 did whenever an elemental ghost was on your screen.

The character designs, portraits, item/character/monster models, and most outfits are all fine. (I’m not wild about the two-tone hair on some of the cast, but that’s a personal taste thing.) I just... feel a little let down with the actual world. It feels less visually interesting than the other games. Aside from maybe RF4 (since I haven’t unlocked every location yet) it’s a larger world than the other series. It’s absolutely larger than Frontier, so I get that they might not have as much time to add as many details when there was more space to give detail to, but the town feels a little too spread out, with too little visual detail to fill that space. There are portions of the world, mostly distinct highlights of the out-or-dungeon areas where you can encounter monsters, that really pop, but a lot of the setting feels bland.

The inside of houses is the same. There are times when I look around and think “did they just re-use this asset?” when I would have liked to see them vary things more to add some personal character. I’d have to go back and look at the older games to see how varied the buildings were in older games, but something about the amount of space inside these buildings and the graphics used just makes it feel like they could have taken it further than they did.

(I like the Atohl design tho. Going between caves and this eerie abandon city was such a vibe and I want more backstory on what happened there. Gimme another notebook where a man went mad writing in his own blood.)

Misc

I want to jump! They let us jump in ToD! I had little shortcuts I’d take around the main island that involved jumping! I keep encountering spots where I think “Jump to progress” and there’s no way to jump! It’s not like it was in any other game outside of ToD but something about this game makes me feel like it ought to be an option when it’s not!

Overall

Solid enjoyable experience so far. On track to be one of the better games in the series. My only major gripes are the visuals for the setting feeling underwhelming and the hit box size for when trying to pick up items.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Watomatic, for lower Whatsapp switching costs

Any discussion of monopolization of the web is bound to include the term “network effects,” and its constant companion, “natural monopolies.” This econojargon is certainly relevant to the discussion, but really needs the oft-MIA idea of “switching costs.”

A technology has “network effects” when its value grows as its users increase, attracting more users, making it more valuable, attracting more users.

The classic example is the fax machine: one fax is useless, two is better, but when everyone has a fax, you need one too.

Social media and messaging obviously benefit significantly from network effects: if all your friends are on Facebook (or if it’s where your kid’s Little League games are organized, or how your work colleagues plan fun activities), you’ll feel enormous pressure to join.

Indeed, in these days of Facebook’s cratering reputation, it’s common to hear people say, “I’m only on FB because my friends are there,” and then your friends say, “I’m only there because you are there.”

It’s a form of mutual hostage-taking.

That hostage situation illustrates (yet) another economic idea: “collective action problems.” There are lots of alternatives to Facebook, but unless you can convince everyone on Facebook to pick one and move en masse, you’ll just end up with yet another social account.

This combination of network effects and collective action problems leads some apologists for tech concentration to call the whole thing a “natural monopoly” — a system that tends to be dominated by a single company, no matter how hard we try.

Railroads are canonical “natural monopolies.” Between the costs of labor and capital and the difficulty in securing pencil-straight rights-of-way across long distances, it’s hard to make the case for running a second set of parallel tracks for a competing company’s engines.

Other examples of natural monopolies include cable and telephone systems, water and gas systems, sewer systems, public roads, and electric grids.

Not coincidentally, these are often operated as public utilities, to keep natural monopolies from being abused by greedy jerks.

But the internet isn’t a railroad. Digital is different, because computers are universal in a way that railroads aren’t — all computers can run all programs that can be expressed in symbolic logic, and that means we can almost always connect new systems to existing ones.

Open up a doc in your favorite word processor and choose “Save As…” and just stare in awe and wonder at all the different file-formats you can read and write with a single program. Some of those formats are standardized, while others are proprietary and/or obsolete.

It’s easier to implement support for a standard, documented format, but even proprietary formats pose only a small challenge relative to the challenge presented by, say, railroads.

Throw some reverse-engineering and experimentation at a format like MS DOC and you can make Apple Pages, which reads and writes MS’s formats (which were standardized shortly after Pages’ release, that is, after the proprietary advantage of the format was annihilated).

This is not to dismiss the ingenuity of the Apple engineers who reversed Microsoft’s hairball of a file-format, but rather, to stress how much harder their lives would have been if they were dealing with railroads instead of word-processors.

During Australia’s colonization, every state had its own governance and its own would-be rail-barons. Each state laid its own gauge of rail-track, producing the “multi-gauge muddle” — which is why, 150+ years later, you can’t get a train from one end of Oz to the other.

Hundreds of designs for interoperable rolling stock have been tried, but it’s proven impossible to make a reliable car that retracts one set of wheels and drops a different one.

The solution to the middle-gauge muddle? Tear up and re-lay thousands of kilometers of track.

Contrast that with the Windows users who discovered that Pages would read and write the thousands of documents they’d authored and had to exchange with colleagues: if they heeded the advice of the Apple Switch ads, they could buy a Mac, move their files over, and voila!

Which brings me to switching costs. The thing that make natural monopolies out of digital goods and services are high switching costs, including the collective action problem of convincing everyone to quit Facebook or start using a different word-processor.

These switching costs aren’t naturally occurring: they are deliberately introduced by dominant firms that want to keep their users locked in.

Microsoft used file format obfuscation and dirty tricks (like making a shoddy Mac Office suite that only offered partial compatibility with Windows Word files) to keep the switching costs high.

By reverse-engineering and reimplementing Word support, Apple obliterated those switching costs — and with them, the collective action problem that created Word’s natural monopoly.

Once Pages was a thing, you didn’t have to convince your friends to switch to a Mac at the same time as you in order to continue collaborating with them.

Once you get an email-to-fax program, you can discard your fax machine without convincing everyone else to do the same.

Interoperability generally lowers switching costs. But adversarial interoperability — making something new that connects to something that already exists, without its manufacturer’s consent — specifically lowers deliberate switching costs.

Adversarial interoperability (or “competitive compatibility,” AKA “comcom”) is part of the origin story of every dominant tech company today. But those same companies have gone to extraordinary lengths to extinguish it.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

Just as a new company may endorse standardization when it’s trying to attract customers who would otherwise be locked into a “ecosystem” of apps, service, protocols and parts, so too do new companies endorse reverse-engineering and comcom to “fix” proprietary tech.

But every pirate wants to be an admiral. Once companies attain dominance, they start adding proprietary extensions to the standard and fighting comcom-based interoperability, decrying it as “hacking” or “theft of intellectual property.”

In the decades since Microsoft, Apple, Google, and Facebook were upstarts, luring users away from the giants of their days, these same companies have labored to stretch copyright law, terms of service, trade secrecy, patents and other rules to ban the tactics they once used.

This has all but extinguished comcom as a commercial practice. Today’s comcom practitioners risk civil and criminal liability and struggle to get a sympathetic hearing from lawmakers or the press, who have generally forgotten that comcom was once a completely normal tactic.

The obliteration of comcom is why network effects produce such sturdy monopolies in tech — and there’s nothing “natural” about those monopolies.

If you could leave Facebook but still exchange messages with your friends who hadn’t wised up, there’d be no reason to stay.

In other words, the collective action problem that the prisoners of tech monopolies struggle with is the result of a deliberate strategy of imposing high technical and legal burdens to comcom, in order to impose insurmountable switching costs.

I wrote about this for Wired UK back in April, comparing the “switching costs” the USSR imposed on my grandmother when she fled to Canada in the 1940s to the low switching costs I endured when I emigrated from Canada to the UK to the USA:

https://www.wired.co.uk/article/social-media-competitive-compatibility

Today, there’s a group of tech monopoly hostages who are stuck behind their own digital iron curtain, thanks to Facebook’s deliberate lock-in tactics: the users of Whatsapp, a messaging company that FB bought in 2014.

Whatsapp was a startup success: founded by privacy-focused technologists who sensed users were growing weary of commercial surveillance, they pitched their $1 service as an alternative to Facebook and other companies whose “free” products extracted a high privacy price.

Facebook bought Whatsapp, stopped the $1 charge, and started spying. In response to public outcry, the Facebook product managers responsible for the app assured its users that the surveillance data WA extracted wouldn’t be blended with Facebook’s vast database of kompromat.

That ended this year, when every Whatsapp user in the world got a message warning them that Facebook had unilaterally changed Whatsapp’s terms of service and would henceforth use the app’s surveillance data alongside the data it acquired on billions of people by other means.

Downloads of Whatsapp alternatives like Signal and Telegram surged, and Facebook announced it would hold off on implementing the change for three months. Three months later, on May 15, Facebook implemented the change and commenced with the promised, more aggressive spying.

Why not? After all, despite all of the downloads of those rival apps, Whatsapp usage did not appreciably fall. Convincing all your friends to quit Whatsapp and switch to Signal is a lot of work.

If the holdout is — say — a beloved elder whom you haven’t seen in a year due to lockdown, then the temptation to keep Whatsapp installed is hard to resist.

What if there was a way to lower those collective action costs?

It turns out there is. Watomatic is a free/open source “autoresponder” utility for Whatsapp and Facebook that automatically replies to messages with instructions for reaching you on a rival service.

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.parishod.watomatic

It’s not full interoperability — not a way to stay connected to those friends who won’t or can’t leave Facebook’s services behind — but it’s still a huge improvement on the nagging feeling that people you love are wondering why you aren’t replying to their messages.

The project’s sourcecode is live on Github, so you can satisfy yourself that there isn’t any sneaky spying going on here:

https://github.com/adeekshith/watomatic

It’s part of a wider constellation of Whatsapp mods, which have their origins in a Syrian reverse-engineer whose Whatsapp comcom project was picked up and extended by African modders who produced a constellation of Whatsapp-compatible apps.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/03/african-whatsapp-modders-are-masters-worldwide-adversarial-interoperability

These apps are often targeted for legal retaliation by Facebook, so it’s hard to find them in official app stores where they might be vetted for malicious code.

It’s a strategy that imposes a new switching cost on Whatsapp’s hostages, in the form of malware risk.

Legal threats are Facebook’s default response to comcom. That’s how they responded to NYU’s Ad Observer, a plugin that lets users scrape and repost the political ads they’re served.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/04/553000000-reasons-not-let-facebook-make-decisions-about-your-privacy

Ad Observer lets independent researchers and journalists track whether Facebook is living up to its promises to block paid political disinformation. Facebook has made dire legal threats to shut this down, arguing that we should trust the company to mark its own homework.

Whatsapp lured users in by promising privacy. It held onto them post-acquisition by promising them their data would be siloed from Facebook’s main databases.

When it reneged on both promises, it papered this over by with a dialog box where they had to click I AGREE.

This “agreement” is a prime example of “consent theater,” the laughable pretense that Facebook is “making an offer” and the public is “accepting the offer.”

https://onezero.medium.com/consent-theater-a32b98cd8d96

Most people never read terms of service — but even when they do, “agreements” are subject to unilateral “renegotiation” by companies that engineered high switching costs as a means of corralling you into clicking “I agree” to things no rational person would ever agree to.

Consent theater lays bare the fiction of agreement. Real agreement is based on negotiation, and markets are based on price-signals in which buyers and sellers make counteroffers.

A “market” isn’t a place where a dominant seller names a price and then takes it from you.

Comcom is a mechanism for making these counteroffers. Take ad-blockers, which Doc Searls calls “the largest consumer boycott in history.” More than a quarter of internet users have installed an ad-block, fed up with commercial surveillance.

This is negotiation, a counteroffer. Big Tech — and the publications it colonizes — demand you give them everything, all the data they can extract, for every purpose they can imagine, forever, as a condition of access.

Ad-block lets you say “Nah.”

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

The fiction that tech barons have “discovered” the “price” that the public is willing to pay for having a digital life is a parody of market doctrine. Without the ability to counteroffer — in code, as well as in law — there is no price discovery.

Rather, there is price-setting.

Not coincidentally, “the ability to set prices” is the textbook definition of an illegal monopoly.

[akumaalert]

Snippet of “Awake” - First Chapter of “Divergence”

Hey, all! Wanted to share a snippet of the first chapter (”Awake”) of “Divergence” - a fic that will offshoot from “Heavy Metal Lover.” Note that this is basically a whole spoiler for chapter 20 of “Heavy Metal Lover.” If you’re like me and see random stuff saying “Don’t click if you haven’t read...” and click anyway: Hi! Welcome, chaos lover. If you like this and want to know the context, please feel free to check out the full work on AO3.

“Divergence” should be posted within two weeks and will be open to requests for the reader (”Lucky”) to have different experiences than what she has in the original. This can mean the following:

- AUs

- Re-tellings of certain scenes of the original

- Reader-specific details included in old or new/original scenes (i.e., reader is plus sized, skinny, tall, short, etc.)

- Genderbending of any of the characters

Originally made this Tumblr to share snippets of the stories on...so happy that I could finally do that! If you want to skip writing that was in the story, you can start at “Though sleep pulled at your eyelids...”

Story contains mature elements, swearing, and explicit mention of sex. Please be forewarned.

Looking back, it would only be a wonder that it did not occur sooner.

As soon as you were alone in the bedroom, you took off your shoes and eyed the clothes Heisenberg had provided you from the factory...

...before turning to the tub.

Couldn't hurt to bathe. Love to be clean. 

That man is coming back up to this bedroom.

This is the point, self.

The logical side of your brain, for once, remained quiet. 

Though you had clearly lost all sense of sensibility, you at least moved the divider to completely block the tub from any but the most determined of views. 

The water had been scalding when you got in.

By the time you had bathed and decided that your foolishness had reached its limit, it was stark cold.

"This was stupid," you said. "Fucking stupid. What did I want? Him to join me? This is the universe saying 'Wake the fuck up.'"

Though your fingers were pruned, you dried yourself off and pulled a nightgown from the small cupboard beneath the sink.

Sheer as ever. Fuck's sake. The universe had truly saved you.

Until it hadn't.

Heisenberg rushed into the room like a rocket and you jumped as the door slammed close.

"...you here, Luck?"

"Yeah," you called out. "Um...don't come over here...gotta get dressed real quick."

"...k" called Heisenberg.

Wasting no time, you slid the gown over your body and made sure to fan out the edges as far as they would go. 

You needed no mirror to see your nipples proudly displayed through the fabric.

Mouthing a 'fuck' for good measure, you frowned.

"Heisenberg?"

"Yes?"

"Do you...do you mind looking away for a second?"

"From you?"

"Yes."

"...are...are you coming out naked?"

"No," you snapped.

An awkward silence greeted you.

"Heisenberg?"

"Huh?"

"You looking away?"

"Oh. Yeah. You're good now."

Peeking from behind the divider, you only saw Heisenberg's back. 

With more speed than you were familiar with, you bolted to the bed and ducked under the covers.

Once secure beneath the pillowy softness, you breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay. It’s safe."

You did not miss how Heisenberg whirled around.

"Oh...fuck...that was fast."

"Yeah," you said absently.

"Trying to set a fucking record?"

"Something like that."

"Mmn. I...gotta get changed."

"Okay."

The two of you stared at the other.

"You trying to get a free show or you gonna cover those peepers?"

"...I figured you would go behind the divider."

"The divider is on your side of the bed."

"Oh," you said dumbly. "Oh. Yeah...wait."

Yanking the pillow from underneath your head, you smashed it onto your face above your mouth and pressed down.

Heisenberg chuckled. "Dramatic as hell."

"Doing what you asked of me."

"...didn't formally ask you to...did I?"

Swallowing found your throat on fire.

"Mmn."

"What was that?"

"Mmn," you repeated.

"Heh...don't go into public speaking, kid."

You frowned at the ceiling and the darkness of your eyes. 

Instead of speaking, Heisenberg decided to tell you he was done by climbing in the bed beside you. It struck you suddenly that lamps had been placed in the room instead of the candles that the castle was so beset with. But when you removed your pillow, you found yourself met by more muted darkness.

"Sure you okay with this?" asked Heisenberg. "I can fuck off and go into another room. I like to bitch like a drama king, but I don't need anything crazy set up for me."

"Bed is pretty big," you said carelessly. "S'okay. We've been closer."

The chuckle Heisenberg gave was absolutely filthy.

"We have...haven't we?"

The fucking lilt would be the death of you. What a relief it was to blink blindly and stupidly at the man in peace without judgment. 

"Hey - last time I'm reminding you...what's your one job?"

"Get you out in the morning," you replied.

"Because?"

"Ah...generators...production line...something about a reset..."

"That's my girl. Nighty night, Luck."

"Night, Heis."

A turn. A breath. A feeling that you would never be able to sleep with the man so close that you could feel his body heat radiating from him like a welcome sign. 

But you awoke.

You awoke often.

You awoke in the middle of the night from a dream you could barely recall and all the images of Alcina at the forefront of your mind. 

You awoke in Heisenberg's arms and sobbed into his chest as he clung you to him just as sweetly as any of your snowy imaginings. 

"Fuck you doing awake? No...shh...it's okay...shh...you're alright. I'm here. I've got you."

Though sleep pulled at your eyelids, you nudged your head up to feel the spikes of Heisenberg's scruff. You had to stay awake. Could not return to sleep and Alcina awaiting you with her long talons and even longer legs.

"Nightmare?"

You nodded into his neck. 

"Mmn. Have those myself...think you can go back to sleep? Don't think it's quite time for me to leave yet if you just wanna yak about it or something."

Swallowing, you exhaled. "Don't wanna go back to sleep."

With a grunt, Heisenberg sat up to leave you curled on the sheets.

"Just checking the time..."

When Heisenberg turned to pull something from the floor, you noticed that your eyes had somewhat adjusted to the dark. Enough so that you saw the loose movements of his arms and realized that he had gone to bed without a shirt. 

"Fuck...two in the morning..."

"I'm sorry," you said, tensing. But Heisenberg was mumbling and coming back to you with open arms. "Sorry I woke you..."

"S'alright," he said, yawning afterward. "Gotten less sleep and done more stupid things after than make sure the reset doesn't fuck up the factory..."

As he spoke, you could feel one of his hands rubbing up and down your arm a bit too roughly. An awkward and well intended move to comfort you.

"Still...I'm sorry...you need all the sleep you can manage to get. I don't know how much work the whole factory thing will be..."

"Honestly not much as long as I get back in time," he said, hand squeezing your arm for good measure before returning to that same rough rubbing motion. "Could probably even come back here afterwards...heh...that would spook that sixty-foot snake."

You laughed a sleepy laugh and settled further into his grasp.

"Mmn...like a fucking little bunny...cuddling into me and shit..."

"I can stop...pull away..."

Heisenberg's hand stopped rubbing you in favor of clutching you to him.

"Shh...you're talking nonsense. Need some sleep."

"Heis..."

"Shhh..."

"Heis, you can just tell me that you like it when we cuddle."

When he tsked and laid his chin on your head, you smiled. It felt so much like that day at the stronghold.

"Why would I say that? Not in the business of lying to people."

Lying...yes...because what we are doing now is causing you so much distress...

"Well," you said, smiling. "I'll say it then. I like it when we cuddle. Especially in bed. Feels more comfy than cuddling in front of the lycans."

A shiver - as though Heisenberg had been beset by the cold - ran through his body.

"Oof...y'okay?"

"Yeah, yeah..." he said absently. "Uh...actually...we might wanna go to sleep after all..."

"Mmn?"

"Yeah...early morning..."

"You mind if I hold onto you for a while? This...this actually helps from the nightmare."

The only way you knew how to describe Heisenberg in that moment was jittery. His movements were fine on their own but were conducted with such awkward quickness as to be alarming.

When he did not answer you, you looked up at him through the dark.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

A beat of silence and then another.

"Nothing's wrong." Quick words to match his quick movement.

"Heisenberg..."

"It's Heis."

"...you...Heis...something isn't right. Just talk to me. In English, preferably."

What you could only assume was a curse in German fell from his lips.

"I...fuck's sake, buttercup...I don't know how to...if you...this was such a bad idea...so fucking STUPID."

"What?" You paused, gathering enough evidence from his huff. "Sleeping together?"

"Yes."

"It was your idea."

"I FUCKING KNOW THAT, OKAY?" he hissed. "Just...I thought...earlier...it made more sense...this made more sense..."

"Glad something did because I am completely and utterly confused," you admitted. 

"You're confused? You started flirting with me." Heisenberg grumbled something low and rough. "Fucking gave me ideas...false hope...so I thought...guh I'm such a fucking idiot..."

Hope began to fuel you too. Fuel you and feed into the most terrible of terrific ideas.

"Are you...whatever you're trying to say...I was flirting with you. That wasn't false. Honestly...I was in the bathtub just moments before you came in hoping you would join me."

"...you what now?"

You could not help but laugh. The fact that you could not see Heisenberg's expressive face only added to the hilarity as you imagined a hundred different emotions running through that scarred skin.

"I took a bath...a long one...hoping that you would come up here in the middle of it and offer to join me...figured one thing could lead into another and the bed was here anyway..."

The pauses in between Heisenberg's voice could only endear you to him. He seemed every bit lost for words. 

"You...are you talking about...what are you talking about?"

"Sleeping with you," you supplied with a shrug. "What are you talking about?"

"Sleeping...you...ah...I wasn't...I wasn't mistaken? Shit...I...I may or may not have a fucking stiffy over here...because the cuddling is...something you enjoy so much."

"Oh?" you purred. The chance of escaping in the delights of Heisenberg’s body made your body positively teem with anticipation. But you could not forget your own actions...the last time you had seen him in such a vulnerable state. Losing some confidence, you glanced at the darkness of the bed instead of his body. "Umm...I want to touch you...want to...would it be okay if I touched you?"

"Yeah...course. You've touched me before."

"No...I mean...is it...fuck...can I jack you off?"

For a long while, Heisenberg said nothing.

The next thing you heard was a rattling spit.

"OUCH GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKER!" he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"Pinched myself."

"You...why are you pinching yourself?"

"Because I'm clearly fucking awake but clearly dreaming at the same time because yes, I would enjoy that very much. Please. And thank you."

"Are...are you sure?"

Heisenberg's hand came down heavy but without malice on your neck.

"OW!"

"Shit...I was trying to grab your hand."

Providing your hand to his, you hitched a breath when he splayed it against his chest. His heartbeat thudded against your palm. Wrenching your knees upward, you brushed against that heated length between his legs.

"I...um...we should probably talk about boundaries before I do this."

"Huh?"

"Is this...are you okay with me just jacking you off?"

"Just? This is a goddamn holiday. Marking it on the calendar. Nothing little about it."

"Dumbass. That's not what I'm saying," you said, scratching his chest somewhat affectionately to show him that you meant no harm. "Do you...are you wanting anything more? Because I'm on my period...I'm up for it...but it might get messy and I know that's the last mess I want a certain someone finding."

"We...we can do more? More like..." You heard him take in a shaky inhale. "Can we...is like full blown intercourse on the table?"

"Sure...long as you don't call it that again," you said, shaking your head.

Grumbling and tensing his shoulders, Heisenberg whined when you dropped your touch to round one of his nipples.

"What the fuck else am I supposed to call it?"

"Sex. Fucking. Making love," you added jokingly. "Um...ah...you know...I hadn't thought about it, but maybe you genuinely didn't know. German to English...or...ah...Romanian to English. Might not have those words."

"I like making love," he said with certainty in his voice. "Let's do that. Make love."

You had expected him to laugh at that suggestion if he acknowledged it at all. But there he was giddy and practically giggling over the most flowery option he was given. 

"Okay...are there any places that you don't like being touched?"

"Not that I know of," he admitted. "Are there...is there somewhere I shouldn't touch you?"

"Not necessarily...just...no going down on me this time. Sex is one thing-"

"Making love."

"-us um...us making love is fine, but I don't want to get eaten out while my period is going on. And don't show me your dick after or comment on the blood...just...get rid of it. Please. And...and nothing too crazy to start out with. I'm not a prude, but don't want to be choked or anything harsh like that. Just...vanilla for our first go. Then we can see where things take us."

"Roger that! Heard loud and clear," he said, leaning his face to kiss your forehead. For all the lack of a relationship, Heisenberg was making you feel far much more mushy and cared for than your ex ever had. You let your hand round his stomach slow and soft in response.

"Thank you. We...if you want to, I'll jack you off for a bit before you grab the condom."

"The...I don't have one of those."

That made you freeze. 

"Not even in this room? Your chambers? If you don't feel like getting up, I can grab them from wherever they are."

Heisenberg went uncharacteristically quiet.

"Heis?"

"None in this room," he said plainly.

"I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable by asking...but...is that typical? You having sex without a condom?"

It worried you. Here you were all too willing to have him fuck you into the mattress while he could be having all sorts of unprotected sex with who knows who in the village. He was attractive - a lord. Anyone with a pair of eyes could easily fall in lust if not love with him. 

Anyone with ears too...fucking sexy ringmaster voice...

"Not typical, no."

"No? Has it just...been a while?"

"Never."

"Huh?"

"Never made love before."

That sent you sitting up in bed.

"WHAT?"

"What?"

"HEISEN..." you lowered your voice, realizing he was growing tense. "You've never...I don't believe you. Quit joking. Not the time."

"Not joking," he grumbled. "Why would I joke about that?"

"You're just..."

"I'm what?"

"You're you," you said as if it clarified anything at all. "You're a lord in a small town. You have a face of a model. Not...not trying to open old wounds, but you're absolutely gorgeous underneath all those layers..."

"Yeah," he snorted. "Fatass McGee will be strutting the runways any day now."

"Oh my god...you're serious." Lying back down, you brought your hand to the clothed length between his legs. He had grown noticeably more soft since the brush of your knee, but you could feel his cock twitch when you cupped him. "So...no one? Not even foreplay or...what about kissing?"

"...ahhh...nah...none of that either...you're probably the first person to see me naked since I was a little kid...well...maybe a few folks in Constantinople. Got sloshed one time and woke up naked tied to a lamppost. But...other than that...all you."

There seemed to be no end to the surprises that would fall from Heisenberg's mouth. You stared at him - or the inky shadow that was him - and ran teasing fingers up his shaft.

"I uhh...fuck...I'm pretty sure anyone who saw me then is dead by now though," he supplied.

"Heis...you're so fucking ridiculous."