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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months

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Lies, damned lies, and Uber

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in PHOENIX (Changing Hands, Feb 29) then Tucson (Mar 10-11), San Francisco (Mar 13), and more!

Uber lies about everything, especially money. Oh, and labour. Especially labour. And geometry. Especially geometry! But especially especially money. They constantly lie about money.

Uber are virtuosos of mendacity, but in Toronto, the company has attained a heretofore unseen hat-trick: they told a single lie that is dramatically, materially untruthful about money, labour and geometry! It's an achievement for the ages.

Here's how they did it.

For several decades, Toronto has been clobbered by the misrule of a series of far-right, clownish mayors. This was the result of former Ontario Premier Mike Harris's great gerrymander of 1998, when the city of Toronto was amalgamated with its car-dependent suburbs. This set the tone for the next quarter-century, as these outlying regions – utterly dependent on Toronto for core economic activity and massive subsidies to pay the unsustainable utility and infrastructure bills for sprawling neighborhoods of single-family homes – proceeded to gut the city they relied on.

These "conservative" mayors – the philanderer, the crackhead, the sexual predator – turned the city into a corporate playground, swapping public housing and rent controls for out-of-control real-estate speculation and trading out some of the world's best transit for total car-dependency. As part of that decay, the city rolled out the red carpet for Uber, allowing the company to put as many unlicensed taxis as they wanted on the city's streets.

Now, it's hard to overstate the dire traffic situation in Toronto. Years of neglect and underinvestment in both the roads and the transit system have left both in a state of near collapse and it's not uncommon for multiple, consecutive main arteries to shut down without notice for weeks, months, or, in a few cases, years. The proliferation of Ubers on the road – driven by desperate people trying to survive the city's cost-of-living catastrophe – has only exacerbated this problem.

Uber, of course, would dispute this. The company insists – despite all common sense and peer-reviewed research – that adding more cars to the streets alleviates traffic. This is easily disproved: there just isn't any way to swap buses, streetcars, and subways for cars. The road space needed for all those single-occupancy cars pushes everything further apart, which means we need more cars, which means more roads, which means more distance between things, and so on.

It is an undeniable fact that geometry hates cars. But geometry loathes Uber. Because Ubers have all the problems of single-occupancy vehicles, and then they have the separate problem that they just end up circling idly around the city's streets, waiting for a rider. The more Ubers there are on the road, the longer each car ends up waiting for a passenger:

https://www.sfgate.com/technology/article/Uber-Lyft-San-Francisco-pros-cons-ride-hailing-13841277.php

Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. After years of bumbling-to-sinister municipal rule, Toronto finally reclaimed its political power and voted in a new mayor, Olivia Chow, a progressive of long tenure and great standing (I used to ring doorbells for her when she was campaigning for her city council seat). Mayor Chow announced that she was going to reclaim the city's prerogative to limit the number of Ubers on the road, ending the period of Uber's "self-regulation."

Uber, naturally, lost its shit. The company claims to be more than a (geometrically impossible) provider of convenient transportation for Torontonians, but also a provider of good jobs for working people. And to prove it, the company has promised to pay its drivers "120% of minimum wage." As I write for Ricochet, that's a whopper, even by Uber's standards:

https://ricochet.media/en/4039/uber-is-lying-again-the-company-has-no-intention-of-paying-drivers-a-living-wage

Here's the thing: Uber is only proposing to pay 120% of the minimum wage while drivers have a passenger in the vehicle. And with the number of vehicles Uber wants on the road, most drivers will be earning nothing most of the time. Factor in that unpaid time, as well as expenses for vehicles, and the average Toronto Uber driver stands to make $2.50 per hour (Canadian):

https://ridefair.ca/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Legislated-Poverty.pdf

Now, Uber's told a lot of lies over the years. Right from the start, the company implicitly lied about what it cost to provide an Uber. For its first 12 years, Uber lost $0.41 on every dollar it brought in, lighting tens of billions in investment capital provided by the Saudi royals on fire in an effort to bankrupt rival transportation firms and disinvestment in municipal transit.

Uber then lied to retail investors about the business-case for buying its stock so that the House of Saud and other early investors could unload their stock. Uber claimed that they were on the verge of producing a self-driving car that would allow them to get rid of drivers, zero out their wage bill, and finally turn a profit. The company spent $2.5b on this, making it the most expensive Big Store in the history of cons:

https://www.theinformation.com/articles/infighting-busywork-missed-warnings-how-uber-wasted-2-5-billion-on-self-driving-cars

After years, Uber produced a "self-driving car" that could travel one half of one American mile before experiencing a potentially lethal collision. Uber quietly paid another company $400m to take this disaster off its hands:

https://www.economist.com/business/2020/12/10/why-is-uber-selling-its-autonomous-vehicle-division

The self-driving car lie was tied up in another lie – that somehow, automation could triumph over geometry. Robocabs, we were told, would travel in formations so tight that they would finally end the Red Queen's Race of more cars – more roads – more distance – more cars. That lie wormed its way into the company's IPO prospectus, which promised retail investors that profitability lay in replacing every journey – by car, cab, bike, bus, tram or train – with an Uber ride:

https://www.reuters.com/article/idUSKCN1RN2SK/

The company has been bleeding out money ever since – though you wouldn't know it by looking at its investor disclosures. Every quarter, Uber trumpets that it has finally become profitable, and every quarter, Hubert Horan dissects its balance sheets to find the accounting trick the company thought of this time. There was one quarter where Uber declared profitability by marking up the value of stock it held in Uber-like companies in other countries.

How did it get this stock? Well, Uber tried to run a business in those countries and it was such a total disaster that they had to flee the country, selling their business to a failing domestic competitor in exchange for stock in its collapsing business. Naturally, there's no market for this stock, which, in Uber-land, means you can assign any value you want to it. So that one quarter, Uber just asserted that the stock had shot up in value and voila, profit!

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2022/02/hubert-horan-can-uber-ever-deliver-part-twenty-nine-despite-massive-price-increases-uber-losses-top-31-billion.html

But all of those lies are as nothing to the whopper that Uber is trying to sell to Torontonians by blanketing the city in ads: the lie that by paying drivers $2.50/hour to fill the streets with more single-occupancy cars, they will turn a profit, reduce the city's traffic, and provide good jobs. Uber says it can vanquish geometry, economics and working poverty with the awesome power of narrative.

In other words, it's taking Toronto for a bunch of suckers.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/29/geometry-hates-uber/#toronto-the-gullible

Image: Rob Sinclair (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Night_skyline_of_Toronto_May_2009.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #uber #hubert horan #fraud #toronto #geometry hates cars #urbanism #ontpoli #olivia chow #self-regulation #transport #urban planning #taxis #transit #urban theory #labor #algorithmic wage discrimination #veena dubal

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actually-safer-to-kiss · 1 year

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What about an angst to fluff where reader and Spencer aren’t exactly dating but they had a date planed and Spencer cancelled cause he had a case. Reader goes to a bar with her friends and sees Spencer walking in with JJ or someone undercover but reader thinks he blew her off for another date…

So Two FBI Agents Walk Into a Bar...

Summary: Reader confronts Spencer after finding him at a bar with another woman.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Slight angst-to-fluff

Word count: 1k

A/N: Thank you for submitting, and thank you thank you for your patience 🩵

The evening was supposed to be perfect. A soft breeze rustled the leaves of the trees lining the quiet street as the setting sun cast a warm glow over the city. The air was thick with anticipation as you carefully selected your outfit for the night. You had a date planned with Spencer, the enigmatic and brilliant man you’d been getting to know over the past few months. You weren’t officially dating, but the chemistry between you two was undeniable, and this was meant to be a significant step forward.

But life had a way of throwing curveballs. Just hours before your scheduled meet-up, Spencer called to cancel. Granted, you could hear the frustration and exhaustion (because when is he not working) over the phone, the pang of disappointment hitting your core was still hard to ignore. There was an urgent case that apparently demanded his attention, so he had to be there. You hated to understand the demands but simply agreed to postpone your plans and hung up with a sigh.

Instead of moping for the rest of the evening, your friends convinced you to join them at a nearby bar. They promised laughter, good company, and a distraction from the pain that often came with new men in your life. Reluctantly, you agreed and soon found yourself amidst the lively chatter of the bar, a drink clinging to your hand throughout the evening

As the sun began disappearing and evening blended into night, your friends’ laughter became infectious, and you began to relax. You were sharing stories, trading jokes, and momentarily forgetting about the original plans with Spencer. But it was as if the universe heard you because a sudden hush fell over your table as the group’s attention was drawn toward the entrance.

There, walking in, was Spencer. And a woman. A woman who was indeed not you. A leggy blond in a little black dress that, of course (of-fucking-course), looked fantastic on her.

Your heart sank at the sight. Spencer Reid had cancelled your date only to go out with someone else. The initial shock turned into a whirlwind of emotions—hurt, anger, and a sense of betrayal. A full-course meal of confusing feelings right in front of you as you still couldn’t believe your eyes.

Your friends, however, watched in real time as the feelings played out on your face. They exchanged knowing glances as the turmoil only set in further in front of them. And it’s before they have a chance to react that you’ve stormed over to them. Your voice wavered, a mix of anger and hurt trading places as you said, “Seriously, Spencer? You cancelled on me for someone else?” You gestured toward the woman, who was now looking up at you. She had gorgeous blue eyes, and it didn’t help your self-esteem in the slightest. “Does she know you did this? I doubt it.”

Spencer’s own eyes widened at the surprise, and he jumped to his feet. The urgency and frustration (of getting caught, clearly) were just as evident on his face. “Y/N, wait.” He says. “You have it all wrong here.”

You weren’t ready to listen, though. The feelings festering in your body had reached their boiling point, and you were determined to let Spencer feel the burn. “Save it! I can’t believe you would do this to me. I thought we had…” Tears started welling up the moment you felt yourself on a roll, as if tonight couldn’t be more embarrassing. “I thought you were different.”

Spencer took hold of your arm. His grip was firm but not forceful, pulling you into a quieter, more secluded corner of the bar (where your friends could still see you as their heads bobbed from the table like pigeons). “Okay, okay,” Spencer began, whether to you or himself; you couldn’t tell. “Listen, you’re just going to have to trust me on this. That woman, her name is J.J. She’s a co-worker. She’s married, happily married, and we’re working undercover on a case. I didn’t blow you off for a date.”

And it was then; your anger had no choice but to waver. As his words sank in, confusion replaced the initial fury. “Undercover? A case? You mean the case is happening now?”

Spencer nodded, rapidly, like he was on a sugar high. “Yes! Look!" He even messed with the collar on his cardigan, revealing the tiny microphone clipped to it. It blended in with its navy color. “I know it looks bad. I do. But I promise, there’s nothing between me and J.J. It’s all part of the investigation.”

You looked Spencer in the eyes; they were sad and starting to gloss. “So, your people, the others in on the investigation... they can hear you right now?”

Spencer’s lips thinned out. “Yeah.”

“Have they said anything?”

“Morgan’s too busy laughing. I can’t hear anything else.”

The anger began melting away, replaced by a mix of frustration and embarrassment. You looked down, the foolishness of jumping to conclusions finally catching up to you. The scene you made. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed the worst.”

Spencer clipped the mic back into place and gave you a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. I understand why you were upset. But just know I would never intentionally hurt you like that.”

You met his gaze, the tension between you easing. “I should have trusted you.”

Spencer’s smile widened slightly as he reached out to cup your cheek. His hand is cold but soft. “So, can we start over?”

You nodded, smiling now. “Yeah, let’s start over.”

Spencer nodded. Plans were already made. Spencer was at work. Before heading back to J.J., Spencer made the gentlemanly choice to walk you back to your group of friends. Before he had a chance to introduce himself and depart gracefully for the night, he jerked down to his mic. “I heard that, Morgan. Hey, at least I have a girlfriend.”

You, however, pretended not to hear. You trust he’ll say it again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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joonieskinks · 7 months

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don't, she's mine

simon ghost riley x reader x johnny soap mactavish | love triangle, angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of blood/stitches | 2.2k

“Si, please don’t do this” You begged, tears daring to drip out with another blink. You slipped your hand into his, pulling on him to try and get him to come back to your naked form, into your bed.

“Y/N, we can’t. It’s not appropriate, I’m your Lieutenant. This has gone on long enough.” Simon stated coldly. He refused to make eye contact with you, the mask already back on. You can tell he’s trying to put on a brave front, to keep his resolve. You know him well enough at this point to pick up on these things, yet it breaks your heart that it has come to this. That he’s treating you like you’re nothing special so suddenly.

“Please. Please, Simon. Don’t leave me now”, a sob wrecking your throat. He turns his head at the sound, his chest throbs, but still he declines to meet your eyes. Simon gives you a soft squeeze of your hand, brings it up to his mask as if to kiss it lightly- then walks out.

You’re left alone, as the dawn breaks through your curtains, naked, lonely, cold, abandoned. How could he just leave? After all these months, after all this time of getting to know one another, making each other laugh, fixing up each other's wounds and sharing beds together… He could just leave?

Sure, he was hesitant at first about initiating anything between a Corporal and her superior, but he never let that stop him, did he?

Not when he was holding your hand, leading you to his bed, his head between your thighs, making you cum on his tongue for the 3rd time that night.

Not when he would corner you into the nearest bathroom, taking you from behind, covering your mouth so no one could hear your sounds.

Not when he would moan into your kiss, holding your body close to his, murmuring “I love you”s.

And not when he finally bared his face to you for the first time. The emotions, the love and the trust you could both feel between you. You felt bonded and you fell in love with each other. Rank aside, you were his and he was yours, you wouldn’t trade your Simon for anything.

But now, it feels one-sided, broken, left to die. You’re embarrassed, disheartened, a thousand emotions from hate to adamant adoration for the man run through your head.

You can’t help the tears that pour, your tense clutch on the pillow and your sobs sing you back to sleep.

Two months later…

It’s been uncomfortable to say the least.

Although you’ve been able to avoid Simon’s presence for the last couple of weeks, you’ll still see him occasionally for training exercises, group meetings and when he wanders into the infirmary when he injures himself. Still, he never talks to you, meets your eyes, never tries to engage. All doors firmly shut on you it seems.

His cold front put you off from any attempts to talk with him, and frankly, you were far too hurt to utter a word for fear you may split at the seams before him and fall apart.

So, it was back to business at usual, pretending nothing ever happened, no one was none the wiser. You included, with the way Simon treated you. Might as well have never been.

You got word today that a soldier was called off training due to a pretty nasty cut and that he would be arriving shortly. Your breath always hitched when you never got the name, always anticipating it to be him. Yet you could never decide if it was out of hopefulness or dreadfulness.

However your efforts were in vain when Soap, good ol’ Johnny, strolled into your station.

“Back again, are you?” You smiled at the poor man, rolling your eyes.

“Aye, lass. Back just for your company.” He winked, his one hand clutching his opposite arm. You could see the blood leaking from the makeshift towel bandage.

“Alright, alright, come in. Sit down, get comfy. I’m afraid this may hurt.” You grabbed your tools and a stool, getting to work on your friend.

You and Johnny have always been close, he’s been sweet to you when others were short and demanding. Especially in the beginning when this position was quite overwhelming. But he was there to calm you down, talk, unwind. Even when he got injured like today, he’d come straight to you. Now, you were the only one he trusted to patch him up, his trusted Y/N.

“So, what happened this time?” You inquired, slipping your gloves on and exposing his deep cut to the brisk air. He winced a little, discarding the bloody towel to the floor.

“Ah, you know, bonnie- I’m a little too cocky.” Johnny laughed slightly. “Thought I could dodge the recruit in time. Fucker got the best of me.” You gasped in reply.

“A recruit, Soap? Oh, how old and slow you’ve become!” You jokingly exclaimed, he rolled his eyes but chuckled along.

“Alright now, listen. It was two! What was a man to do? Say no to a challenge?” Johnny lifts his arms all fed up and you have to push him down.

“Hey, I’m starting your stitches now!” You laugh, holding him still.

“Sorry, sorry. Can’t have the wee pretty nurse laughin’ while she’s tryin’ to stitch me up, might end up lookin’ like broken railroad tracks.” Johnny looks down at you, seemingly to test the waters.

You glance up at him, a small blush creeping onto your cheeks. You can’t lie, it feels nice to have some attention after feeling like discarded garbage for so long. But you try not to let it get you thinking about that, about feelings, about him. You try to play it off.

“I’ll have you know I’ve got very steady hands, I’m quite the artist.” He smiles as best he can, while he braces himself for the needle.

“You good?” You ask. Johnny nods back as you begin, using his spare hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Wanna hear a joke, lass?” A smile breaks out onto your face.

“Alright try me, Soap. But no promises about your stitches turning out pretty.”

“Well then-”...

Johnny tells you joke after joke, and you try your best not to laugh while stitching him up. But it keeps slipping out, the laughter, the joy, the compliments from him.

And Simon hears it all.

Walking by your station to get to Price’s office, he stops just before the doorway as to hear you. Your laughter, your voice, Johnny’s adoration… He lets himself peer inside briefly, only to see Johnny touching you, you stitching him up like you used to him, and your gorgeous, smiling face.

It makes him feel sick, wrecked with jealousy and you don’t miss his form as he storms by your doorway.

After Johnny was stitched up and good to go, your stomach hurting after all the laughter, he was free to go for the evening. He invited you out for celebratory drinks, but you declined. After some poking and with the knowledge the whole team was going, well- can’t really say no then.

You got changed into something presentable and headed out to meet everyone. You had some nurse friends you could keep close to, but when you arrived, Johnny made sure to capture your attention. From a game of darts to more jokes, buying you drinks as a thank you, he was there.

Johnny pulled you aside to an empty table after he noticed your enthusiasm dying down. He placed his hand onto your thigh, reassuringly.

“Hey, you need another drink?” You quickly shook your head.

“No, I’m okay. One is enough. Thank you though.” He hesitated before prying further, taking a look around the room. A small smile creeped onto his face.

“Want to dance?” Johnny asked, an eyebrow raised. You immediately scoffed and he took note of that.

“What’s wrong with a little bit of fun, bonnie? Come on.” He grabbed your hands, dragging you to the dance floor. You could only go along and try to make the best of it. He’s sure trying, but all you could think about was Simon. You appreciated Johnny’s efforts to make you feel better, but you know who you really wanted during times like this. But the Scotsman took you out of your thoughts all too quickly.

“Watch this.” He whispers into your ear, bringing you in close. He places one hand on your hip and another in your hand. Immediately, twirling you around to the beat. You could only hang on and go along if you hoped to survive.

“Johnny!” You laugh, clinging to his hand and shoulder. He twirled and twirled you across the dance floor, everyone in the bar beginning to take note. Whistles and cheers were heard as you captivated the attention.

Except for Simon. Simon who has been watching this entire time from across the room, not a second did he let you leave his sight. Simon who looked on with gridded teeth.

It was only when the song ended and Johnny dipped you, bringing your face close to his, did he react.

Without a rational thought in his head, he moved across the bar to you two. Johnny and you were inches apart when you both caught a heated Simon rapidly approaching in your sights.

“Si…” You whispered instinctively. It was only now that Simon realized he was in front of you. The crowd silenced and slowly began to dissipate as you three stood still, gawping at each other. Johnny was the first to break the silence.

“Well, well, well, Lieutenant. Do I have some competition here? Or-”

“Don’t, McTavish.” Simon boomed, and it was like a shot to the heart. Oh, how you longed to hear his deep, intoxicating voice again.

Johnny pulled you up back into his arms and kept you there until Simon removed you from his grip, his hand in yours. Simon gave the Scot a menacing stare until Johnny put his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, LT. Alright.” Johnny backed off to rejoin his boys.

You looked up at Simon, his stare still on Johnny, insisting he stay gone.

“Simon…” You whispered, gripping his hand tighter. Praying he would never let go again.

“Come with me.” He whispered back, as he led you outside the bar for some privacy, his hand still in yours.

You two stood in the brisk, night air, facing each other but still he never granted you his eyes. It was all you had with the balaclava on.

“Please, talk to me.” Your heart was aching, begging for any kind of balm he could provide. To finally have him this close again after long nights of crying alone, you need this. You need him. And if it's closure, so be it. But something.

Instead he let out a laugh. A genuine laugh.

Your face dropped and utter confusion engulfed you.

“He did it all on purpose.” Simon looked up at you, stroking your interlocked hands with his thumb. You could tell he was smiling sheepishly through the mask.

“Wha-?”

“Johnny. He did this all on purpose to get me to speak to you.” A huff of air came through his nose. “And it bloody well worked.”

Realization hit you, and you let out a little laugh yourself. But you quickly fell into your thoughts.

“Wait, he knew about us?” You asked, holding eye contact with Simon, his gorgeous, gorgeous eyes.

“He figured it out. Said ‘I’ve been acting more broody than normal’”. You smiled briefly, before your moment of happiness turned into desperation and longing for the man before you. How you’ve missed him, craved and ached for him.

“Why did you ignore me?” You couldn’t help the tears that began to build up again. As they slipped down your cheeks, Simon moved his hands around your face, cupping your cheeks and wiping them away.

“I thought it would be easier this way.” You quickly shook your head and he steadied you by placing his forehead on yours.

“Please forgive me. I’ve made a fool out of myself. I thought it would be easier not to meddle our personal lives and professional. But it’s not, it’s harder than anything I’ve ever put myself through.” He tilted his head back to remove his mask, baring himself to you once again. Simon wanted to prove his sincerity to you, his love for you. Your hands flew up to his exposed face, your Simon, the man you loved. Finally able to feel his skin on yours again, refusing to take your gaze away in case he disappeared once more.

“I’m sorry, lovie. If you give me another chance, I won’t mess it up. I know I don’ deserve you, but hell, I’d like to try.” He gave you a small smile and tried his best to push back the tears that threatened to erupt. You nodded frantically.

Simon closed the gap and your lips met. He moaned into the kiss and his hands gripped your waist, keeping you in place close to his body. Your arms wrapped around his neck, deepening it, getting as close to him as you possibly could.

You stopped briefly to breathe, and you laughed through the tears still falling down your cheeks.

“What?” He asked, smile still present on his face.

“So you were jealous?” You bit your lip.

“Shut up”, Simon chuckled as he brought you into another kiss.

#joonieskinks #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost simon riley #ghost fluff #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #mw2 x reader #simon Riley angst #ghost angst #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x you #soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap

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bluebeary-jay · 9 months

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Hold me close and hold me fast

Hi, my darling @always-andromeda!! I'm your secret santa from the space sisters server 🥰 I hope you're having a fantastic day and will enjoy what I wrote for you 💕 I tried to mix fluff and angst into your Joel prompt and it was tricker than I thought it'd be but hopefully I did it justice 😌 I wish you all that's best and happy holidays!!

Summary: It's been a long time since Joel was in any relationship and because of that he has absolutely no clue how to react to your affections. It culminates into an angsty conversation which he wanted to avoid at all costs.

Tags: tooth-rotting fluff, fluff and angst, soft and shy Joel, hurt/comfort, established relationship 💕

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: dividers by @saradika, beta read by @reddedmiller ❤️

Twenty years ago, when the apocalypse started and Joel Miller lost his only daughter, he was certain that he’d never feel happy again. Time didn’t heal his wounds – he still thought like that when he was fighting for survival with Tommy, then when he was doing side jobs with Tess in the QZ… It was never going to get better.

But somehow, as he looked up at the massive tree he just helped the others set up in the middle of the square in Jackson, he realized that it could. It did. Now Joel had a home here. He had his brother back, he had Ellie whom he cared for like his own kid and he had a community that welcomed him into Jackson, people who didn’t know about the horrible things he’d done and therefore didn’t hate him.

“Hi, handsome,” he heard from behind his back and turned around to the most beautiful face in the world – the main source of his newfound happiness. You. His girl. “Are you done with work?”

He nodded with a small smile gracing his lips. You were the newest addition to Joel’s life, but the most precious one in his eyes. Unlike everyone else in Jackson (excluding his brother), you knew all about the sins he’s committed. And yet, you still chose him. Every day you continued to choose him, to envelop him with the warmth of your love which Joel wasn’t sure he deserved.

He’d never tell you, though. Not as long as you kept him in your heart.

“Yeah, no, we’re done. M’pretty sure my back will blow if I have to pick up or carry one more damn thing.”

Right at that moment Tommy walked by with another box full of tree ornaments in his arms, and huffed a laugh when he heard his brother complaining.

“Jesus, Joel, you really are gettin’ old.” He put down the heavy box on the snow and sighed, propping his hands on his hips and nodding at you. “You sure you’ll be able to put up with this grump?”

“Positive.” You climbed onto your tip-toes to press a kiss to Joel’s cheek, and he felt his skin growing hot under your lips. He turned his head to hide the embarrassment evident on his face, missing the slight furrow of your brows, but not missing a hearty laugh his brother let out.

“Aww, is the big, scary man gettin’ all shy from a little kiss on the cheek?”

“Get lost, Tommy.”

Tommy chuckled and bent down to pick up the box again. “By the way, you two have any plans for today? We’re makin’ a screening of some Christmas movies for the kids, and after that the adults will head to the bar. You should come.”

“Well, if you want to?” you directed the careful question to Joel, but he shook his head just slightly, causing you to smile. “But we actually have other plans for tonight.”

That was true, and there was no way Joel would trade those precious hours spent in your company for having to sit – or worse, dance – in a loud room full of half-drunk people.

“Sounds like somethin’ I don’t wanna know about.”

“We’re just gonna bake some cookies for Ellie,” Joel murmured when you bumped his arm lightly with a giggle. The irritation at his brother lessened slightly when he heard the sound of your laughter. “But don’t tell ‘er.”

“My lips are sealed.” Tommy winked at Joel, then shifted his eyes to you. “Enjoy your evening, lovebirds.”

“That’s the plan.” You took Joel’s hand in both of yours, beaming up at him with excitement. “You’re ready?”

“Yeah.” He inconspicuously let go of your hands to brush the arm of your jacket lightly, and then nodded in the direction of his house. “C’mon, darlin’.”

He hoped he wasn’t coming off as too harsh as he hid his gloved hands in the pockets, intending to blame it on the cold in case you asked. But instead of saying anything, you just matched his step and slipped your hands around his arm. Joel went rigid when you leaned your head on his shoulder, the side of your body almost hugging his.

Joel loved you like no one before and until he met you, he hadn’t been this happy in years. But there was a problem, a major one, in your relationship that he didn’t at all know how to address.

Because Joel didn’t have any clue how to react to all your touches.

No matter if they were tender or needy, brief or lasting, he always felt out of his depth. It’s been so long since he actually wanted to be intimate with someone that when the chance arose… he was at loss. You were such an affectionate person and he loved that part of you, he cherished all touches and gestures you graced him with – craved them even – but…

He stole a glance at you, wondering if you could feel the stiffness of his body when you were so close, but it seemed that you were none the wiser. He tried to will his muscles to relax, but it didn’t work and he still felt an uncomfortable feeling crawling up his arm.

The problem wasn’t that he didn’t know what he was supposed to do as your partner, but ever since Sarah died, he hadn’t had an opportunity to show affection to someone. Everything he thought about seemed awkward and incongruous, but he really didn’t want you to think that he was an inexperienced old man who didn’t know how to please – and in your case, love – a woman.

He did. In theory.

So he tried his hardest to show you in other ways how much he cares about you. He brought you gifts, whether they were knickknacks scavenged during his patrols or wooden figurines he made for you. He did what he could to relieve you of your duties, helped around the house and out in the town. He found time during the day to spend with you or at least just talk in passing if you both were busy.

But that still wasn’t enough. He knew that wasn’t enough.

Every damn time you cuddled, every time you kissed him or did something as simple as lay your head on his shoulder, Joel never felt better. He never wanted those moments to end, but at the same time he just couldn’t reciprocate, and it was tearing him apart, because he could see how hurtful it was to you.

“You’re quiet.”

Joel snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at you, noting that you’re almost at his place. He breathed a little lighter when he realized that he managed to go all this way without the need of pulling his arm out of your grasp.

“Is everything alright?” you asked with concern in your beautiful eyes and squeezed his bicep slightly, causing Joel to clench his teeth. “Listen, if you’d prefer to go with Tommy, just tell me…”

“Hey, I’m okay, sweetheart,” he assured you quickly and even managed to smile as if the guilt of not being able to even kiss your forehead wasn’t eating him alive. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with right now.”

“Just right now?” you asked teasingly, and Joel couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him.

“Listen here, you little tease…”

A bright smile returned to your face and you tugged his arm down so your lips could reach his stubbly cheek – and (only a little) reluctantly, he let you kiss him with a huff.

But the guilt of not telling you the true reason of his worries was still swirling in his stomach, making him feel sick for the rest of the way.

An hour and a half later the cookies were already done, and somehow the attempt to clean each other off the flour and the colorful frosting you used to decorate them ended up with you sitting in Joel’s lap, kissing him softly.

Not that he minded.

There was nothing as wonderful as the feeling of your lips on his skin, Joel was sure of it. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since he was with someone that made him feel like a young boy in love again, but your every gesture, every sound coming out of your mouth and every day he got to spend with you was just a confirmation of how lucky he was to have you.

Even now, as you were kissing him slowly and without any rush, he felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach. But while they initially appeared from the happiness and giddiness you were causing in him, the longer your hands wandered – and the longer his stayed uselessly at his sides – the worse and more stressed he felt.

“You know you can touch me, right?” you asked playfully at last, and the pit in Joel’s stomach grew almost tenfold in size. “It’s highly encouraged, actually.”

There was an actual question in your voice, which made him feel even worse. He should’ve known you’d address it eventually – after all, nothing went past you – but it still felt so awfully embarrassing to admit it to you. He was an old man, but felt like an inexperienced teenager who didn’t know how to make a woman feel good.

You moved to kiss him again when he didn’t answer, too lost in his own thoughts, but on instinct Joel pulled back – actually ducked – out of your reach. Immediately regret painted his face at the rejected look in your eyes, and he started to rake his mind in search for something he could do to fix it, but nothing came to him. He knew what you’d want from him – you’d forgive him if he took your face in his hands, kissed you with all his strength, let you know that you did nothing wrong… but it made him nervous just thinking about it, let alone do it.

“Sorry,” he quickly muttered. “I didn’t– didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

“Hey, look at me… What’s wrong?” You brushed some hair out of his forehead and Joel exhaled shakily, feeling weak in the knees at your touch. “Talk to me, baby. Did I do something?” Joel shook his head and you pressed your lips together. “Did something happen, then?”

“No.” He shook his head quickly, but he avoided your eyes. “No. Nothin’.”

“Joel…”

The room got too stuffy all of the sudden, the shirt on his back too tight and your body too heavy on his lap. Joel knew he was panicking over nothing, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want you to see him like this, so unsure and embarrassed over his own insecurity and behavior… So he gently removed you from his lap and stood up from the couch.

“Sorry, I gotta… I need some air. I’ll be right back, alrigh’?”

“Joel.”

No ‘baby’. No ‘handsome’. The tone of your voice made him stop dead in his tracks, and he turned around to meet your sad, solemn eyes.

“Just tell me if you don’t want me anymore.”

Your voice, so small and weak, took him off-guard and for a couple of seconds Joel wasn’t sure if you really said that, or if it was just his imagination playing cruel tricks on him. He blinked several times, but you were still in front of him, sad and… oh, god, you were on the verge of tears.

“What?” He couldn’t help a curt, disbelieving chuckle that escaped him – which was a terrible reaction, he realized when you turned your head away from him. “I– I don’t understand.”

“You don’t ever want to touch me first.” You let out a shuddering breath and lifted your arm to wipe your eyes, and Joel realized with mortification that he fucking made you cry. “And when you do it’s only when I initiate it, but sometimes you just pull back and it… it makes me feel so unwanted. And I know I might come off as too clingy…”

“Hey, none of that.” Joel quickly made his way to you and sat back down, gazing at you with his brows furrowed in worry. Your face was tearstained already and you avoided looking at him, but didn’t pull back when he took your hand gently in his. “Darlin’...”

“Just tell me if it doesn’t work for you,” you breathed, your voice thick with tears which also welled up in your pretty eyes again. “I hate not knowing if I… if our relationship makes you happy.”

“Of course I’m happy, babygirl.” Joel lifted your hand as if to kiss it, but hesitated. He had half a mind to draw back, but you needed him now, and he needed to prove that he really loved you. So, tentatively, he pressed his inexperienced lips to your fingers, making you look up with suspicion dancing in your irises. “You make me the happiest I’ve ever felt.”

“You’re pretending.” The quiet accusation combined with you withdrawing your hand caused Joel’s heart to break and he opened his mouth to explain, but you didn’t give him a chance to. “I don’t want you to pretend now that I’m upset, I want– Joel, I need you to be honest and tell me if it isn’t working for you. You always move away when I try to hug you and during all this time we’ve been together I can count on one hand the number of times you kissed me first. I don’t…” you choked down a sob and a new wave of tears flew down your cheeks. “I don’t want to waste either of our time if that isn’t what you want. If I’m not what you want–”

“Sweetheart, you’re the only one I want,” Joel whispered with pain in his voice, moving so he could sit closer to you. “M’so very sorry that I wasn’t…” He searched for the right words, but everything felt flat on his tongue. “I’m sorry. For everythin’ I did that made you feel this way.”

“But why?” you asked pathetically, staring at him with defeat and sadness. “You never said anything and I wouldn’t try to touch you so much if you just told me you didn’t like it!”

“I do like it,” he cut you off with a firm tone, which caused you to stop abruptly. “I fuckin’– I love it when you touch me, darlin’. I’m dyin’ for you to keep doin’ it, but I…”

“You what?” you asked, softer this time, and Joel swallowed hard, nervous how you’ll react. But you had the right to know, so ultimately he pushed through his discomfort.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he finally settled on that. “I really, really love when you touch me, babygirl, no matter in what way.” He took another deep breath, bowing his head to look at his hands so that he didn’t have to face you. “But it’s been so long, damn decades, since I… since anyone touched me in the way you do. I never loved someone the way I love you. I’m very sorry, I just don’t know what I’m s’pposed to do… when someone…”

He trailed off, worried that he might break down and cry in front of you if he says another word, and he’d prefer to avoid it at all cost. The world outside was so harsh and cruel already, and you needed someone strong – a safe haven, a pillar you could lean on. He was that someone for everyone around him for the last twenty years, and even longer before the outbreak.

But it was so much different now. You made him feel safe and loved no matter what he could provide to you and it was almost scary how vulnerable he was becoming in your presence.

“...when someone cares for you?” you asked quietly. Joel nodded, and tears gathered in your eyes again, though now for a very different reason. “Oh, Joel…”

“M’sorry,” he whispered, his own vision also going misty. “I want to give you everythin’ you desire, darlin’. If you give me another chance, I promise I’ll try to…” He shook his head, defeated. “I don’t know. I’ll try to get past it.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” You scooted just a little closer and put your hand on his knee lightly. He looked up with anguish swimming in his brown eyes, not believing that you were still here and not already out of the door. You worried your lip between your teeth for a couple of seconds before inhaling deeply. “How about… I show you what to do? We can go as slow as you want.”

Joel slowly shook his head, not understanding. “...show me what?”

“You said you don’t really know what to do, right? So how about I show you exactly how… you know.” You smiled almost shyly, but it only caused Joel’s heart to beat even faster. “Where to put your hands.”

Joel was nodding before you even finished speaking.

It was embarrassing, really, how excited he got at this idea, but just the thought of your hands guiding his, demonstrating where and how to touch you, had him feeling weak in the knees and hot under his clothes. You smiled, almost with relief, and moved even closer until your thighs were touching.

“Here, just relax. We can stop at any time, just say a word,” you said soothingly, placing his palms on your hips and sending him a small smile. Joel wondered if you could see how red his face surely was, feel how sweaty his palms got. “Is this okay?”

“S’better than okay,” he breathed in something akin to wonder. “It’s easier… Everythin’ seems easier with you.” His chest was tight when he looked up at you. “Thank you.”

It wasn’t a lie. You did make it seem effortless, and though Joel could still feel the rigidness of his muscles and tendons, the tension was slowly melting away, replaced by a tingling warmth on his skin.

You gave him a reassuring smile and his eyes flickered to your lips almost involuntary. You noticed it, of course – Joel didn’t think he was exactly subtle with his staring – and cupped his jaw in your hands. His arm, practically instinctively, encircled your waist and pulled you closer before he could stop himself, but you didn’t berate him – in fact, you seemed delighted by his action.

“Now, are you going to kiss me or not?” you whispered coyly, brushing his cheekbones with the pads of your thumbs. Joel chuckled at your attempt to put him more at ease, but it worked and he leaned in to press – very, very carefully – his lips to yours. He felt you smiling against them and his eyes filled with tears from the overwhelming relief.

“I love you so much,” he murmured with his mouth only millimeters from yours. “So much, babygirl.”

You hummed a quiet love you, too, and moved your lips up to softly kiss his eyelids, then temple, then cheeks and nose. Joel almost wanted to cry when you started running your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. It felt so good, your touch so nice and tender… He couldn’t remember when was the last time someone treated him with such care. Maybe never. “Next time it becomes too much, you tell me, got it? And I promise I’ll make you feel better.”

Your touch didn’t bother him now that he admitted what was weighing heavily on his chest for so long. Now, it felt soothing. Grounding.

So, so loving.

Joel held you closer, melting into your embrace, and claimed your lips in a soft – if not a bit shy – kiss.

There was nothing else he’d rather be doing tonight.

#space sisters secret santa 2023 #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you

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ephemerensis · 3 months

Text

Cologne // Tim Drake x GN! Reader

hay guys! where Tim Drake and Red Robin (ur bodyguard for the time being) smell suspiciously the same— it’s like you can’t even tell the difference! no angst, this took me so long oh my goodness i’m gonna stick to writing what i know. stay tuned for hurt/angst i have a lot of grievances to spit out! not proofread.

Part 2

—

Gotham was the last place you’d expected to be sent off to, but it’s where you found yourself now. Despite being disgustingly crime ridden, it was the center of trade, commerce, business, and more importantly— information. Which is precisely what you’d been sent to offer.

Your family’s company recently made a ground breaking discovery in pharmaceuticals, creating a drug that could limit the spread of cancer cells without traditional side effects; YB-V they called it. However, the by-product of production was much more severe, resulting in a chemical compound capable of mutating all the cells in a person completely to become something other as if they belonged to a different entity. Given the right motivations and means, the cells could be manipulated by a third party, turning them into fully conscious puppets of some sort.

With data leaks and security concerns, and the serious nature of the consequences if your drug had fallen into the wrong hands, you were sent to deliver the research and development to the production team personally; placed in charge of overseeing production until launch.

Which all sounded good in theory, but as you found yourself twiddling your thumbs in a blacked out office space, getting briefed on the gravity of the situation by a police task force with some vigilante character hanging around behind you, you began to question what it was all worth.

“So let me get this straight, an email between Wayne Corp and ourselves was leaked and now a couple big shot villains want to steal it? What kind of bad guy reads emails?”

A burly officer with a thick white mustache and a pair of square set glasses cleared his throat awkwardly, “That’s correct.”

“Some tech team,” you scoffed. “I’m the only one that can access any of the files, it’s all biometrically locked. While this certainly puts a damper on my day, we should be able to proceed normally.”

“They have your identity too,” the figure in the back voiced. Red Robin, you’d been informed, one of Gotham’s crime fighters in spandex (allegedly.) Up until now he hadn’t spoken a word, loitering while the police explained everything to you.

“Which is why we brought you here,” the commissioner pipped, reaching for his coffee mug as he spoke. “Red Robin has agreed to watch over your activities for the duration of your time in Gotham. For your safety, and ours.”

Have this guy tail you? As if. You were occupied enough without having a stranger watch your every move. A vigilante at that, it’s not like you could look at his resume and review his history.

“While that is a gracious offer, I have my own bodyguards. They’re well trained and—“

“Not for Gotham, you don’t.” Red Robin stepped out from the corner he’d situated himself in, arms crossed and a frown plastered on his face. “And unless you want to stay in a bunker for three months, I’m your best bet.”

Silence fell as you stared at the masked man, contemplating your options. The underground bunker was out of the question. On top of running production, you had a company to run and a reputation to upkeep; meetings, galas, charity events to attend. And as much as you hated to admit it, they had to be right. Gotham knows Gotham, and with the crises you’d witnessed on screen it was clear their criminals were on a polarly different level.

Pressing your hands to the table, you stood up and turned around, “I see. And you being around won’t make me more of a target?”

“Not even you would know I’m there.”

Closing the distance between the two of you in a few paces, you stuck your hand out to him, “In that case, I look forward to working with you Red Robin.”

Standing near him, the faint smell of lavender was imminent and something deeper lingered under it, an amber of some sort. It was pleasant; Red Robin had good taste in cologne. And that is all you needed to trust him.

It took a second for him to shake your outstretched hand. In your palm, his grip was firm, rough gloves pressing into your satin skin. Secure, you’d decided, secure and reliable.

And just as he’d promised, you hardly noticed him. On the contrary, you were also never attacked; not in the days following the abrupt meeting, nor the week after that, nor the month after that. There was the occasional mention of trouble, or something that went bump in the night— but whether it concerned you or not it didn’t matter. Nothing ever happened.

When he was tucked away it felt like he was really gone, not even the eerie feeling that followed being watched lingered. The only thing that drew you back into the reality was when you’d catch the scent of lavender lingering or in the few cases where he’d appear before you. In his absence you felt almost lonely, despite your work occupying it all. So you soon found yourself leaving notes.

“Bought coffee for the office.”

And he began to write back.

“Just black next time, thanks.”

…

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Cornflower blue.”

“That’s a dumb name. Your costume is red, I think you got out branded by Nightwing.”

“In my defense, I didn’t design it.”

…

He didn’t say much in them, nothing that you could glean in depth anyway. But you found yourself oddly pleased with his nothing. It’s not like you cared so desperately for his identity, that was his to keep of course. You did care for his presence. Something about it was magnetizing, and because he hardly appeared before you, these were the tidbits you found yourself drawn to.

Not that you’d kept them, he would see. Despite knowing the situation you were in, it still felt like a strange game— where he knew every detail about you, and you knew nothing of him. Your feelings, at the least, these you could keep on your own.

“Do you need lab access? I know you follow me in, but if there’s an emergency or something…” Production and distribution for YB-V was run by Wayne Corp and like all things related to your project it was kept secure in an underground bunker while you worked to transfer the information your company developed.

While the scientists and developers were mainly in charge of carrying out the project, none of it could move forward without you. The security system had been meticulously set up so that you, and only you, could access the files with the research and instructions. And beyond even your capabilities, every stage written into the plan had to be completed before the next could be unlocked. So you had to be there, supervise and guide them during the entirety of the process.

Archaic, you’d decided. But necessary according to the rest of the world.

Red Robin accompanied you on these trips. Being underground and all, it was one of the few moments he went with you rather than watching from afar.

“No, I’ll find a way in if I need a way in.”

You looked back at him questioningly. You didn’t doubt his capabilities of course, but he said it with such ease, “Is it that easy to break into? I should increase security.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “It’s secure. I’m the issue.”

You turned back around shaking your head with a snort. He was growing on you, sass and all. Stopping by a display of notes and charts, you looked them over to ensure they aligned with protocol.

“I have to attend a gala next week, by the way.”

He hummed in response, a couple steps behind you like he usually was when you visited the lab.

“It’s at Wayne Manor… and I can get you an invite. Security is stricter than it is here, I’ve been told. It’d be troublesome to sneak around.” Ruffling through the papers, you extracted the one you needed, holding it up to your face.

“And I don’t have a date,” you added.

“…are you asking me out?” You could hear a hint of a smile in his voice, making your face burn red at the accusation.

You set the paper down, abruptly whipping around with the most serious expression you could muster, “Strictly for my safety! I don’t know how credible everyone attending is and—“

The smile on his face shut you up. Embarrassed and slightly dejected you looked around the room for something else to lock eyes on, clearing your throat.

“I would’ve loved to, but I won’t be there. Something came up that I need to take care of. But like you said, security is strict, you’ll be safe,” he interjected before you could say anymore. Honestly you couldn’t even be mad, he let you down so sincerely you had to believe it. The small smile plastered on his face and the gentle tone he used in opposition to his usual curt one melted you down far more than you would’ve liked it to.

“Right.” It took you a second to cough anything out, like you were thirteen and starstruck again by any character that tossed you a bone, “so much for you or the bunker, I could’ve hired the Waynes’ security.”

But you were disappointed, and his answer did surprise you. Busy? He hadn’t left your side your entire stay as far as you were aware, granted you couldn’t see him 95% of the time, but in principle.

He must’ve picked up on your downtrodden state because he leaned in teasingly, that familiar lavender scent washing over you, “You have your own bodyguards though, right? They’re well trained.”

You wondered what color his eyes were behind the mask, a warm brown or a melancholy blue. Either way you’d decided you were done for, his were the type of eyes you could drown in; “Not for Gotham, I don’t.”

The night of the gala you didn’t expect much. You were supposed to represent your company of course, as their Gotham socialite, and you were to meet with your business partner. Up until now everything had been transactional, taken care of on invisible ends. Which was fine, but to maintain business relations you had to show up to these things.

And so it was about as dry as you’d thought it to be. Most of everyone was twice your age, many were so stuck in their desire for affluence it radiated off of them like maggots in a burn pile. Supposedly it was a charity gala, in reality it was an egoistic echo chamber and you were in no position to defy it.

Flitting around you sipped your champagne and made conversation and promises that didn’t matter until a hand graced your shoulder with the lightest touch, it felt almost invisible. Turning around you saw a boy with raven hair and the tamest of blue eyes. And he looked to be around your age, a moment of respite at last.

“Hi,” he breathed the word into a smile that was dazzlingly honest and strikingly warm in juxtaposition with the mood of the room.

“Hi,” you shook the hand he offered to you. His hands were rougher than you’d imagine an aristocrat’s to be, littered with callouses you attributed with a dedication to some sport, “I’m Y/N, I don’t think we’ve met before?”

“Sort of, I’m Tim.” In your correspondence with Wayne Corp, Tim had been your main contact; at least for big ticket decisions. In other words, he was your collaborator and your business’ partner. In your head you recalled all the times you poked fun at the archaic way he wrote his emails, like he was 52 and balding— in reality he was just the opposite.

“Oh! It’s nice to finally meet you! Thank you for working with us, we couldn’t have progressed this far without Wayne Corp.”

“On the contrary, thank you for trusting us. This project’s been a huge safety concern for you I’ve heard.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “Not at all! I have one of the best vigilantes in the city.” But this, he should’ve already known. Red Robin had to be cleared for access to certain things, and you’d corresponded as much through your emails. “I must say though, I was disappointed it wasn’t Nightwing at first, he used to be my favorite.”

Tim blinked at you for a spell and you couldn’t read his expression. Pleasant and cordial with some twinge of underlying distaste was the best way to describe it, something in the way his eyes glinted with a malice behind his smile. “Has that changed?”

He must love Red Robin.

“I suppose,” growing on you was an understatement. It was a strange ordeal because he wasn’t real. No name or title you could address, but everything you learned about Red Robin made you want to know more about Red Robin. He was magnetizing. “Have you met them? Is it a normal Gotham thing?”

“No,”his response came swiftly, “they’re usually in other parts of the city and I’m never out at night. Married to the office.”

“I see.” That would explain the emails.

“Do you… want to dance?” He extended his hand to you graciously, but with a gentle hesitance that made him seem softer than he was. In a way you felt like you were betraying your vigilante delusionship, but he hadn’t agreed to go with you and Tim was charming enough. Besides, business relations.

“Of course.” Placing your flute of champagne on a nearby table, you took his arm as he led you to the floor. He smiled in a demure sort of way that made your heart flutter like the excitement you’d felt interacting with Red Robin. Maybe you just liked the attention that much, that must be the correlation between the two.

“Do you know how to waltz?” Typically galas didn’t have much dancing at all, let alone organized ballroom dancing, but leave it to the Waynes to find a way to stun the crowd with their class and extravagance.

“Sort of, I’ve taken rudimentary classes.” Like when you were five.

“Perfect,” he grinned. He placed his hand faintly on the small of your waist while the other found purchase in your opposing palm, “I’ll lead. Just follow along, you’ll be fine.”

Miraculously you were fine. You started out with your eyes glued to the floor, following after him and avoiding his toes. But once you’d gotten into a rhythm, it all felt like floating.

“You haven’t stepped on my toes once,” he joked. Up close and under the mesmerizing ballroom light he looked angelic, the way the light caught in his lashes and the reflected off the blue of his eyes—like little golden flecks glimmering under supple flowing rivers.

“I’ve been trying not to!” you laughed.

“You look beautiful,” as if his eyes could get any more mesmerizing, they softened somehow with his words, “outfit and all.”

“Thank you,” at this you averted your gaze, and prayed the lighting didn’t highlight the flush of your cheeks. Out of being flustered or embarrassment, you didn’t know. On the one hand, a rich, beautiful, respectful man was complimenting you. On the other, you were wearing cornflower blue because it was someone else’s favorite color. Like you were twelve again and going to some middle school dance where you wanted to impress your hallway crush.

“Your Getty pictures don’t do you justice,” he continued. “Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t seen one bad photo, but you always look so serious and intimidating.”

It never occurred to you he’d Googled you before, it made sense now how he was able to single you out in the crowd. Maybe the thought was so foreign because you’d never paid him any mind, but now you were thinking you should’ve. At the very least because it’s polite and helpful to know the bare minimum, but if you were honest with yourself it’s because he struck a curiosity in you that needed to be sated—too breathtaking to be real and all you’d known was his face and arresting demeanor.

“Because I am serious and intimidating, I’m very good at my job you know. You’re not the only one married to an office,” you boasted. In reality you hated work, but worse still was posing for pictures. Especially at crowded social functions your parents ushered you to where you didn’t know a soul, you simply didn’t know what to do with yourself in front of a camera—that was your excuse anyway.

“That explains the dancing,” he quipped with a sideward smile.

Your eyes widened slightly in shock as your mouth fell open to scoff. “Hey! I thought I was doing pretty good!”

He burst into a contagious laughter that hypnotically made you follow suit. But you wouldn’t settle for that after all your efforts to keep up. With a look to the wayside, you pretended to lose touch of the tandem between your steps and lurch forward, consequently stepping on his polished brown loafers. And then it was his turn to be shocked.

“Woah! So much for trying,”Tim teased. Not that he lost his footing, he was as stable as ever. In his eyes you swore there was a glint of mockery, as if he knew and anticipated it.

“Oh did I hurt you,” you feigned concern before slipping into the most innocent smile you could muster. “I’m a terrible dancer, I can’t help it.”

“Aren’t you petty?”

“You have no idea.”

“Petty and pretty, how dangerous.”

Before you could fire some witty retort you noticed your steps slowing to a halt with the swoon of the music. He’d brought his hand above you to spin you once, slowly. The other on your waist moved to your lower back to support you as he pulled you into a dip and all you could do was follow. Something about the atmosphere had your heart palpitating. Or maybe it was the way he was looking at you, like you were an art piece on display, overhead light illuminating behind him as he stared down at you like an angel emerging from the heavens.

Sundering you to the earth, you couldn’t fixate your eyes on anything else, and though it was only for a moment it felt like eternity. You were close enough now for the scent of his cologne to waft over you faintly amongst the throng of strongly powdered people in the room. Lavender. A familiar lavender with all the base notes that’d been lingering around you for the past few weeks. Your look of awe faded to confusion.

Red Robin’s.

“Is that—“

But he wasn’t looking at you. Instead you followed his gaze down to your chest, eyes widening as you saw the little red laser mark hovering over your heart. Before you could react, you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs as Tim shoved you away. The sound of the gun firing pierced cleanly through the noise of the glitz and glamour, and something burned across the skin of the side of your arm.

You couldn’t tell if it was broken glass that cut you or something else, you couldn’t feel much of anything with the adrenaline flooding your body. Scared and discombobulated, you scrambled backwards as panic set into the crowd.

In the midst of the onset of gunshots and people scattering towards exits, Tim had rushed over to you. Kneeling beside you, he gave you a quick look over and gently pulled you up by your uninjured arm. As soon as you were up he rushedly dragged you away from it all, winding through the hallways of the manor wordlessly. Though it was probably for the better, because you didn’t have an ounce of air left in your lungs trying to keep up with his pace or a thought in your head after what you’d just witnessed.

The further you trudged along, the heavier your limbs felt and the harder it was to pry your eyes open after blinking. Which was strange, you hadn’t lost so much blood, but it must’ve been the confusion of it all or something you ate. A couple halls and turns later you arrived at a room. He ushered you inside, seating you on the bed before rummaging through the drawers.

“Are you alright? Does it hurt badly?” from the drawer he procured a bandage. He sat himself next to you, promptly wrapping the cloth tightly around your arm.

“No, it’s not bad,” truthfully it felt numb, which you couldn’t decide was a good or bad thing. You couldn’t think much of anything, focused on keeping your eyes from fluttering shut.

“I should’ve known they’d do something,” he’d muttered. As he finished, pushing himself off the bed, your head suddenly felt too heavy to hold up and your eyes too tired to function.

“Hey… are you okay? You don’t look so good.” He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, feeling nothing abnormal and deepening his concern. But you couldn’t process what he was saying. With a lilt, you fell to your side, feeling the injunctive relief of not having to hold yourself upright.

He undid your bandages to look at the wound again before scowling as it dawned on him, “Tranquilizers.”

After rewrapping your arm, he hurriedly stalked towards the door, “You’ll be safe here, I’ll send someone.”

With whatever consciousness you had left you managed to slur a sentence, “Where are you going?”

“To find my brother.”

If he said anything after you didn’t hear it, because the moment your eyes fluttered shut, they stayed shut.

You didn’t know how long you were out. Not terribly so. When you’d awoken, it was still dark out. Tim must’ve flicked the light off when he’d left too, the only light that flooded in was from the streetlamp out the window. The drugs hadn’t cleared your system yet if the pounding in your head and brain fog you were experiencing was any indicator. And they didn’t even hit you directly, who knows where you’d be if they did.

In the streets you could hear the panic of people and the wail of police sirens, which would’ve settled your stomach if not for the fact that it clearly wasn’t over and the police weren’t entering.

You jerked your head towards the door as a loud thud sounded just outside of it. Looking around the room for a place to hide, there was none. And if there was one, you couldn’t see it with the lights out. Some commotion followed before what sounded like a body hit the floor.

Not knowing what else to do, you wrapped yourself in the bedding, pulling it to the floor behind the bed and huddling there. At the very least, no one knew you were in there but Tim, and surely he’d locked the door.

Nope.

The sound of the knob turning made your blood run cold. You drew the blankets tightly around yourself, hoping you’d amalgamate into the cloths if you’d clutched them tightly enough.

With the bed obscuring your view, you couldn’t see the perpetrator and you didn’t want to. You screwed your eyes shut as footsteps creaked on the wood pacing towards you. Against your will, you hands couldn’t cease trembling and you wondered if the other person in the room could hear your heart beating out of your chest.

This was it. If someone wanted to swoop in, now would be great.

The footsteps halted on the opposite side of the bed. You considered jumping out at them, throwing the blanket and bolting for it, but your limbs felt like they were filled with lead. And in any case, if they were armed you were done for anyway. So you held your breath and willed them away instead.

To your horror they’d started again in your direction. Silence. And then a hand touched the blanket and you couldn’t help it, you shrieked and covered your head with your arms.

But instead of force or a bludgeoning, they’d knelt in front of you, gently grabbing your arms as you thrashed. A familiar voice called your name out a couple times before you recognized it and opened your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s me! You’re okay,” in the dark you couldn’t really see his face but it was Tim’s voice that called to you. Delirious and reeling, the relief flooded your body so intensely, the tears didn’t even have time to well before they were streaming down your cheeks.

Throwing your arms around him, you sobbed for all you were worth, “I was so scared, why’d you just leave me!”

You felt him stiffen beneath you at the sudden intrusion before softening and patting the back of your head with a gloved hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

And it felt so safe there, in his arms, secure but soft all at once. The familiar lavender mixed with the champagney smell from the gala soothed you in a way you’d never thought you’d needed.

“I thought they were gonna get me,” you choked out between sobs. This was in no way attractive, “and then I’d get kidnapped, and everyone would turn into puppets!”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. Not mocking or laughing at you like your more awake self would’ve expected, he was mellow about the whole thing. Sorry and really sorry for it—and it wasn’t even his fault.

When you calmed down enough to sound coherent, he pulled back to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“Let me see that,” he nodded towards your bandaged arm. You stretched it out for him and he undid the gauze, “This doesn’t look too bad. Shouldn’t scar.”

Procuring new dressings, he took his time with it this time, applying a salve before wrapping it around you again.

“Tim?” you said his name just to say his name, because you liked the way it felt to say and you wanted to hear him speak. Instead he paused before resuming his work, “I’m Red Robin.”

“Oh.” That’s embarrassing. You were so certain of it too, but he did say he would send someone and he was probably with his family or waiting outside for things to settle. So instead you got the infinitely intangible Red Robin, “I thought you were busy.”

“Plans changed.” He was never this curt with you, not after knowing you anyway. He had to maintain secrecy, you knew this, but he’d find ways to say more anyway.

You flinched as he constricted your arm with the bandage, “You’re pulling it a little tight.”

This made him pause again, letting go of the wrap altogether this time as the circulation breathed back into your marrow.

Exhaling, he ran a hand through his raven hair, “I’m sorry.”

You blinked at him, still fighting to keep your eyelids open but worried nonetheless. This was unlike him, “Red?”

“Sorry, I’m just on edge. I should’ve known, I could’ve prevented this,” shaking his head, it was if he made up his mind, “Everything is transferred now, the project can wrap up without you. We’ll get you on the next flight back tomorrow.”

Somewhere in you an inkling of anger stirred, as if you were an object that could be sent as needed. But the strain in his voice was evident, how could hold a grudge against that? “I don’t want to leave yet.”

“You’re going.”

You huffed, “I’m not. And you don’t have to watch me anymore if it’s too much, I never expected that from you! You’re here now, you didn’t have to be, but you are— that’s more than my useless bodyguards or Wayne security have done and they’re paid for it. You put up with me and nothing has happened to me. I’m sorry for being so vulnerable, that’s my fault. Don’t you dare berate yourself, you haven’t done one wrong thing!”

He said nothing, just stared at you with something like curiosity. Under the pale moonlight and with his face obstructed you could only speculate.

You stuck out your injured arm to him again, urging him to take it, “Hurry and finish, I’m still sleepy.”

Wordlessly he finished binding your arm. As soon as he was done you fell on his shoulder, closing your eyes.

“Tim—“

“I’m not Tim,” he reiterated. There was something in his tone that you couldn’t quite place; annoyance?

“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling sleep creep up on you again, “you smell the same... I think I like him.” Surely it’s fine to confess this much, or that’s what you told yourself as you started to drift off, words slurring and thoughts blurring, “you should meet him, he’s a big fan.”

—

i have a final in 5 hours please with me luck (it’s 2am)

#tim drake fanfic #tim drake #batman #dc #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #tim drake x gender neutral reader #tim drake fluff #tim drake imagine #bodyguard trope #i can’t write like this #stick to what you know

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galedekarios · 10 months

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gale & his mother, morena dekarios

i thought it'd be nice to have a place to compile everything i could find about gale's mother, morena dekarios.

the first time you as the player get a vague mention about gale's parents is after saving mirkon, when gale brings up a story about his parents denying him a kitten when he was still a child:

Gale: One time my parents denied me akitten, so I summoned myself a tressym.

if you play a gale origin playthrough, you get a mention of her much earlier from tara, after she joins the camp.

this is a camp dialogue with its variants from act i:

Tara the Tressym: Well, if it isn't my favourite fellow himself. Player: How are things back in Waterdeep? Tara the Tressym: More or less the same - though news of some mad faction calling themselves 'Absolutists' is starting to trickle in. Tara the Tressym: I told your mother not to worry. That if they were anything to worry about, Baldur's Gate would handle things quick-sharp. Keep them from spreading their tendrils north. She still wants to know when she'll see you again, sir. I avoid giving any answers. But she misses you. Player: I miss her too. Tara the Tressym: I'll tell her. With my Cat Flap of Displacement, I can afford the occasional visit. I'd bring you along, if I could. Perhaps some day. - Player: I can't risk putting her in danger. Tara the Tressym: I know that, but she doesn't. She'd keel over if she knew just how you'd tried to manipulate the Weave. Or maybe she'd just say something like, 'My Gale always was one to make the impossible possible.' Oh, but she adores you. - Player: No more guilt trips, Tara. Please. Tara the Tressym: But then whatever will we talk about? Anyhow - I'm keeping my senses pricked for any sign of another item that might be of use to you. Hopefully something will turn up soon.

it's clear from the dialogue that gale's mother worries about him and loves him - adores him, really.

it also becomes clear that she doesn't know what happened to gale and that he nor tara has not told her.

another mention from act i, again from tara:

Tara the Tressym: Please tell me you've at least made inroads when it comes to finding someone to settle down with. Myself and Mrs Dekarios are starting to think you intend to die alone. Player: You've been visiting my mother? Tara the Tressym: Naturally. After you abandoned her, there was only me left to keep her company. She's very good company, though. Ah, the stories we've traded over toast and tea. You're a highly entertaining source of speculation. But speculation only goes so far! Tell me, Mr Dekarios - how have you been?

tara and morena are implied to have tea together regularly enough to trade stories about gale. tara is implied to be a sort of messenger between the two of them, likely after gale's isolation and subsequent abduction by the nautiloid, keeping morena informed, yet without revealing gale's secret and shame.

the devnotes also state that tara loves morena - high praise since other devnotes states that tara hates everyone except gale - and that she talks of her in an affectionate tone.

this is a dialogue in act ii after mystra has tasked gale to use the orb the moment he finds the heart of the absolute:

Tara the Tressym: Promise me, Gale. Promise me you'll find another way. Promise me you'll return home, when this is all over. Player: I can't make that promise, Tara. Tara the Tressym: You're going to kill me. And your mother. And then there'll be no one to mourn you when you've wasted yourself for no good reason at all.

i find it very interesting here in terms of other relationships that tara explicitly says that there will be no one to mourn gale except morena and her should he heed mystra's instructions and sacrifice himself. it speaks of the bond between tara, morena and gale - but also even more of gale's isolation and loneliness. we know from tara that she considers herself to be gale's only old friend and gale echoes as much. we also know that gale describes the dekarios family as the dekarios clan, that is "scattered" far and wide.

at the same time, the loud silence about gale's father becomes really apparent again. a while ago, i speculated about gale's father and i truly do still think that he abandoned morena and gale.

another snippet from an act ii convo, before gale reveals the details of elminster's letter to tara (or chosing to keep it to himself):

Tara the Tressym: I'm not one to pry. I'd rather make up all the juicy details myself over tea with your mother.

which again ties in with a similar line from act i, further cementing the fact that this is a regular thing between tara and morena.

still in act ii, tara says this if gale asks her if she'll still love him if he is a mindflayer:

Player: Will you love me when I'm a mind flayer? Tara the Tressym: Depends. Are mind flayers warm-blooded? If so, my prize napping spot on your lap won't be compromised. In which case, I suppose we could find an accord. And, of course, your mother would still think you a prince, no matter how many tentacles you had. And with a nautiloid, you may even manage to visit her more often.

again, gale's mother truly adores him. tara is utterly convinced she'd love him even if he'd turn into a mind flayer. at the same time, the dialogue again hammers home the fact that gale's been keeping his distance from his mother after he has acquired the orb.

the following lines are a compilation of some of tara's lines from act iii, all once again stating that she is a messenger between gale and morena, keeping morena informed about gale's well-being, while also looking after morena in gale's absence from waterdeep:

Tara the Tressym: You're almost at the end of this, Gale. You're nearly there. And not a moment too soon. Myself, I must away to Waterdeep. Your mother will be worried silly not to have heard from either of us - and now I can bring her the good news. When this is all over I'll be waiting for you, with a crackling fire and good book at the ready. Good luck, darling. - Tara the Tressym: I'm well past due to return to Waterdeep. I'm going to tell your mother that you'll be home soon. Don't make a liar of me, darling. - Tara the Tressym: I'll have to make up some good news for your dear mother, then. I'm going home, Gale. To look after Mrs Dekarios, and to remind you that there are people waiting for you in Waterdeep.

going back to companion gale, the next mention of gale's mother after saving mirkon, is from gale in an ambient with karlach:

Gale: I don't suppose you've any clue where we are in relation to Waterdeep? Karlach: From this distance between Elturel and Baldur's Gate, I'd say... a long way away.devnote Gale: Ah. That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky. No matter - what she doesn't know can't hurt her. Not at this distance, anyway.

it echoes the lines of dialogue that origin gale has, believing he endangers his mother with his condition and thus keeping his distance.

gale mentions his mother in an act iii dialogue after meeting tara on the rooftop of the open hand temple:

Gale: My tower in Waterdeep boasts an excellent kitchen and a wine cellar to rival Ondal himself. Not to mention a larder stocked with my homemade hundur sauce. Player: Hundur sauce? Gale: A Waterdhavian delicacy, spiced to leave exactly the right amount of heat lingering on the tongue, and served with that most sharp-toothed of aquarian residents, the quipper fish. I make it to my mother's recipe. It packs quite a wallop. As does she.

we know that gale's the designated camp cook from a conversation with wyll, and i think the conversation makes it fair to assume that gale's mother taught him how to cook.

still, maybe it's because i'm not a native english speaker and i might be missing some cultural context here, but the line "it packs quite a wallop. as does she." stuck out to me:

wallop. to hit something / someone hard.

this could mean that gale's seen her hit someone and packing quite a punch behind it. with what's been described of morena so far, i doubt it's because gale's ever been on the receiving end of that.

or perhaps it's less literal and more in relation to her seemingly larger than life personality that gale also hints at later, describing his mother as "intimitable" and "sometimes unavoidable". this description is from the following conversation that is currently sadly still bugged:

Player: So your last name is Dekarios? Gale: It is. Courtesy of my mother, the inimitable, dare I say it sometimes unavoidable, Morena Dekarios. It's been so long since I've used it. 'Gale Dekarios' cut a poor figure next to the wizard prowess of 'Gale of Waterdeep'. Player: Gale Dekarios... I think I like him more. Gale: You like to many things about me I'd have sooner discarded... Your generosity is quite wonderful. Gale Dekarios likes you too. Very, very much. Though let's keep his exitence between ourselves for now. - Player: Doesn't your matter mind? Gale: Oh, she's happy if I'm happy. Morena couldn't care one jot what I call myself. Tara's the real stickler for using it. Has done since I summoned her. I'd prefer you not follow her exmaple, if that's all the same to you. 'Gale' is more than sufficient. - Player: You're right. Just 'Gale is better. Gale: I agree. And on the plus side, if I get myself into any truly cataclystic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

i love this banter so much and it makes me very sad that larian still hasn't fixed the issue of it not triggering. there's so much lore to explore here:

from gale dropping 'dekarios' in favour of 'of waterdeep', at first, to appear perhaps more grandiose, more suited to the ambitions he held when he was younger, to morena, apparently, not minding it, yet tara clinging to 'dekarios' (perhaps to keep gale's feet on solid ground as much as she could), to finally finding out that the reason that the gale we meet now is not using 'dekarios' still is because he doesn't wish to tarnish his family name should he indeed fall victim to the orb.

the last mention gale makes of his mother is during his act iii post final battle dialogue, in which he proposes to the player:

Gale: That being said, I wondered if you might consider accompanying me back to Waterdeep as a new member of the Dekarios clan? Player: Are you asking me to marry you? Gale: I suppose I am. Tara would be delighted. Not to mention my mother. But I'd be just as happy without such ceremony, so long as we're together.

this again mirrors what tara has been saying in her dialogue with an origin gale in act i: that morena and her were hoping he would find someone to find happiness with.

i think overall, even with only the very few bits and pieces we learn of morena, it's easy to tell that she truly loves and adores and cares her son, and that that love and care is clearly echoed back from gale to morena.

still, or perhaps more likely because of that love, gale keeps his secrets and his distance to morena because of the orb and the shame he feels he brought to his family.

it's all too easy to imagine that he wishes her to be proud of him and that he feels he has disappointed her and given her little reason to be proud of him in the same vein that he feels he has done with tara:

Gale: She'd [Tara] be most impressed by our efforts saving these tieflings. Proud, even. And I've given her little to be proud of recently.

anyhow, i hope i caught all mentions and that this was helpful to someone. 🖤

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #morena dekarios #tara the tressym #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #ch: morena dekarios #ch: tara the tressym #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3

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chaos0pikachu · 9 months

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Is BL Being Overly Influenced by Modern Western Romance Tropes?

Short answer: No. anyways, in the following essay I will explain that James Cameron is a weeb...

(okay fine~~ lets actually do this)

TLDR: discussing what media globalization is, how fandom can distill it down to only American/European cinema, showcasing how a lot of current BL is influenced by countries within it's own proximity and NOT "the west" but each other, also James Cameron is still a weeb

I had seen a post that basically proposited that BL was being influenced by modern western romance tropes and had used things like omegaverse and mafia settings as an example. I found this, in a word, fucking annoying (oh, two words I guess) because it's micro-xenophobic to me.

It positions western - and really what we mean by this is American/European countries, we're not talking about South American countries are we? - cinema as the central breadbasket of all cinema in and of itself. Inherently, all following cinema must be in some way, shape, or form, influenced by American/European standards, and as such America/European countries are directly responsible for cinema everywhere else, and these places - namely non-white countries - do not influence each other, nor have their own histories in regards to storytelling or cinema and do not, in turn, also influence American/European film making either.

Now like, do I think all of that~~ is intentionally malicious thinking on behalf of folks in fandom? No, so chill out.

I do, however, think a lot of it is birthed from simple ignorance and growing up in an environment where ~The West~ is propagated to be central, individual, and exceptional as opposed to the monolith of "Asia" - by which we mean China, Korea, Japan don't we? How often in discussions of Asian countries is Iran, India, or Saudi Arabia brought up even tho they are all Asian countries? - or the monolith that is South America - in which some folks might believe regions like the Caribbean and/or Central America belong to, but nope there both North America.

Anyway, what we're talking about here is the concept of "media globalization":

"The production, distribution, and consumption of media products on a global scale, facilitating the exchange and diffusion of ideas cross-culturally." (source)

"The media industry is, in many ways, perfect for globalization, or the spread of global trade without regard for traditional political borders. [...] the low marginal costs of media mean that reaching a wider market creates much larger profit margins for media companies. [...] Media is largely a cultural product, and the transfer of such a product is likely to have an influence on the recipient’s culture." (source)

Typically when I see fandom discussing what falls under MG the topic is usually focused on how "the west" is influencing Thai/Korean/Chinese/Japanese media.

Enter, Pit Babe.

Surely Pit Babe was influenced by Supernatural right? Omegaverse is huge in the west - love it, hate it, meh it - it originated in the west - specifically via Supernatural after all.

Nah.

Omegaverse has been popular in Japan and China for almost a decade, if not longer. The earliest omegaverse manga I can think of is Pendulum: Juujin Omegaverse by Hana Hasumi which was released in 2015, almost a decade ago.

(what if you added furries into omegaverse? WHAT IF?? - Japan)

There's countless popular omegaverse manga too, and the dynamics only moderately resemble the ones we're familiar with in the west. Juujin is part omegaverse and part furry/beastmen - the alphas are all beastmen the omegas are humans - while something like Ookami-kun Is Not Scary only slightly resembles omegaverse dynamics as a hybrid series - beastmen are really popular in Japan in part b/c of historical mythology (you see the combination of romantic Beastmen and Japanese culture & folklore in Mamoru Hosoda's work The Boy and the Beast and Wolf Children).

Megumi & Tsugumi (2018) is so popular they're an official English edition published by VIZ's imprint SuBlime and that's a straight up omegaverse story.

(look at the omega symbol on the cover loud and proud baby)

So if Pit Babe was influenced by anything, it certainly wasn't "the west" it was Japan, Korea and China. Because those countries have a thriving omegaverse sub-genre going and have had such for 10 plus years now. Supernatural is popular in Japan, yes, and that may be where Japan and Japanese fans originally found omegaverse as a fictional sub-genre.

HOWEVER

Japanese fans took the sub-genre, bent it, played with it, and evolved it into their own thing. As such, other countries in their proximity, like Thailand, China, and Korea who read BL and GL manga, found it and were like "hey, we wanna play too!"

(is that an omegaverse yuri novel I spy?? yes, yes it is)

When I watched the Red Peafowl trailer, it had more in common with Kinnporsche, History: Trapped, along with films and shows like: Jet Li's The Enforcer, and Fist of Legend, Donnie Yen's Flash Point, Raging Fire, and Kung Fu Jungle, Han Dong-wook's The Worst of Evil, Kim Jin-Min's My Name, Lee Chung-hyeon's The Ballerina, Baik's Believer & Believer 2, Yoshie Kaoruhara's KeixYaku, popular Don Lee films The Gangster, the Cop and the Devil and Unstoppable alongside BL manga like Honto Yajuu and Bi No Isu (probably one of the most well known yazuka manga to date).

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Like, we're seeing a rise in mafia based BLs and people think that's because of "western influence" and not the absolute insane success of kinnporsche??? Especially in countries like China, Korea, Taiwan, Philippines and other Asian countries???

Mafia films and gang shows aren't even that popular here in America/Europe; don't get me wrong, they still get made and exist, but the last full length film was The Irishman which did not make it's budget back, and while Power is still on-going it's not a smash hit either. The heyday of Breaking Bad, The Sopranos, The Wire, Goodfellas, and Scarface are long gone. And if you've watched any those shows or films they have very little in common with Kei x Yaku, Kinnporsche, or Red Peafowl in tone, or style.

(who knew martin just wanted to make his al pacino/robert de niro fanfic come to life all these years?)

Another example, The Sign, which is clearly taking inspiration from Chinese costume dramas: Ashes of Love, Fairy and Devil, White Snake (and it's many adaptions), Guardian, & Ying Yang Master Dream of Eternity. Alongside Hong Kong and Korean cop and romance shows like Tale of the Nine-Tailed, Hotel Del Luna, Director Who Buys Me Dinner, First Love, Again, and previously mentioned cop dramas.

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Like, I know y'all don't think Twins is influenced by, what, American sports classic Angels in the Outfield?? Gridiron Gang?? Rocky?? Nah that shit is inspired by the popularity of sports manga like Haikyuu!!, Slam Dunk, Prince of Tennis (which even has a Chinese drama adaption), and the like. And also probably History 2, & Not Me but I'm like 87% sure Twins is just Haikyuu fanfic.

So like, does this mean that there's NO history in which American and European cinema influenced these countries? What, no, obviously that's not true, American/European totally have had media influence on countries like Korea, Japan, etc.

Astro Boy by Osamu Tezuka considered "the father of manga" was inspired by Walt Disney's work on Bambi. Another more recent and prominent example is director Yeon Sang-ho and his film Train to Busan.

"And it was Snyder’s movie [Dawn of the Dead, 2004], not the 1978 original, that filmmaker Yeon Sang-ho recalled as his first encounter with the undead. “That was when I started my interest in zombies,” Yeon said, in an email interview through a translator from South Korea. Even today, he added, “it’s the most memorable and intense zombie movie I’ve ever seen.”" (source)

HOWEVER, the global influence doesn't stop there. It's not a one-way street. Yeon Sang-Ho was inspired by Zack Synder's Dawn of the Dead, a remake of George Romero's own work, but Yeon Sang-Ho's work has inspired countless Korean film makers to make their own zombie media; following Train to Busan there's been: Kingdom (2019 - current), All of Us Are Dead (2022), Zombie Detective (2020), Zombieverse (2023), Alive (2020), Rampant (2018).

And hey, wouldn't you know it now we're starting to see more zombie media coming out of places like Japan (Zom 100 the manga, movie, and anime) and High School of the Dead.

Do you know what Domundi's series Zombivor (2023, pilot trailer only) reminds me of? It's NOT The Walking Dead (which is the only relevant zombie media America has created in the last decade) it's Korea's All of Us Are Dead (2022). Comparing the trailers, the settings, the tone, it's clear where Zombivor is pulling inspiration from: Korean zombie cinema. NOT American zombie cinema.

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In fact a lot of Domundi's shows - Cutie Pie, Middleman's Love, Naughty Babe, Bed Friend - are all very clearly inspired by Korean filmmaking, specifically that of romantic kdramas from the 2016 - 2020 era. Not always in story, but rather in technique.

This is media globalization. It's not simply ~The West~ influencing non-American/European countries but countries who are often more close in terms of: proximity, culture, and trade are going to have more influence on each other.

It is far more likely that Aoftion (Naughty Babe, Cutie Pie, Zombivor) was influenced by watching Train to Busan, All of Us Are Dead, and other Korean zombie shows and films than a single episode of Walking Dead.

My point isn't that this goes one way only, but rather it is very literally a global thing. This includes American and European film makers being influenced by non-American and European cinema.

Martin Scorsese, Steven Spielberg, Darren Aronofsky, Christopher Nolan, the Wachowski sisters, George Lucas and James Cameron have all been influenced by Japanese film making, especially the works of Akira Kurosawa, Satoshi Kon, and Mamoru Oshii.

John Wick's entire gun-fu sub-genre is heavily influenced by classic Hong Kong action films, specifically John Woo films. Legend of Korra, The Boondocks, Voltron, Young Justice, My Adventures with Superman are all obviously inspired by Japanese anime but animated by a Korean animation studio (Studio Mir). Beyond that, the rise in adult animated dramas like Castlevania, Critical Role Vox Machina, and Invincible to name a few are very clearly taking inspiration from anime in terms of style. The weebs that were watching Adult Swim's Inuyasha, Bleach, and Dragon Ball Z have grown up and are now working in Hollywood.

Okay so like, what's the point of all this? What's the issue? Since American/European cinema does influence et all cinema does any of this really matter?

YES.

I take contention with this line of thinking because it centers "the west" and our supposed individual importance way to much. Declaring definitively that "BL is being influenced by western tropes" and then including tropes, narratives, and film making styles that aren't inherently western and actually have major roots in the cinema of various Asian countries, removes the existence of individual history these countries have which are rich, varied, and nuanced. It removes the "global" part of globalization by declaring "the globe" is really just America and Europe.

It distills these countries down to static places that only exist when American/European audiences discover them.

BL doesn't exist in a vacuum you can trace the development of Korean BL to the development of Korean het dramas almost to a T. You can also trace their development to the queer history of each country and how Thailand interacts culturally with China, Japan, Korea, etc and vice versa. It also ignores the history of these countries influencing American cinema as well. Don't mistake "the globe" for only your sphere of experience.

Anyway James Cameron is a damn weeb y'all have a good night.

Check out other posts in the series:

Film Making? In My BL? - The Sign ep01 Edition | Aspect Ratio in Love for Love's Sake | Cinematography in My BL - Our Skyy2 vs kinnporsche, 2gether vs semantic error, 1000 Stars vs The Sign | How The Sign Uses CGI | Is BL Being Overly Influenced by Modern Western Romance Tropes?

[like these posts? drop me a couple pennies on ko-fi]

#kinnporsche #pit babe the series #the sign the series #twins the series #red peafowl the series #domundi #gmmtv #chaos pikachu speaks #fucking a this was an entire essay #i should drop a ko-fi link cause good god damn #chaos pikachu metas #Youtube #pikachu's bl film series

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nexysworld · 1 year

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Focus Time

Read on AO3 🖤 Requests are Open 🖤 Masterlist Summary: When the brother is away, the boys will play (with the reader)

Alternatively: When the teasing of your brother's annoying friends turns into a lot better of a time than you expected.

Pairing: Older Brother's Best Friends Chris and Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, Smut, Edging, Fingering, threesome, DP, P in V sex, Slight dubcon, unprotected sex, oral female receiving, creampie aftercare, no use of Y/N Wordcount: 4k

The noises blasting from the basement were driving you insane. It was bad enough that your brother’s stupid friends were over all the time as is, but ever since your father got that surround sound system, you couldn’t even hear yourself think. You hated his friends, Chris Redfield and Leon Kennedy, too. Despite growing up around them, they never grew on you, especially considering their constant teasing and picking on you. Honestly, your only solace was that at least they were leaving you alone for now – the gaming systems downstairs having distracted them – but that was just trading one frustration for another.

Sighing, you leaned back in your chair and rubbed your temples. All you were trying to do was focus on studying. Briefly, you considered going downstairs and demanding they turn everything down, but knowing they would take the opportunity to antagonize you, you decided on a different option – headphones.

Blasting some music into your ears you returned to your position, hunched over your textbook, scrawling notes onto the paper next to it. It wasn’t long until you’d forgotten about the trio downstairs entirely completely focused on your work, even beginning to sing out loud to yourself. Unfortunately, you were so absorbed in your music and studying you didn’t hear your bedroom door creak open, or the two new people who’d decided to enter uninvited. A hand was placed on your shoulder, causing you to squeal and nearly throw the headphones off of your head, swiveling around in the chair to see Chris and Leon standing next to each other cracking up and laughing.

“What the hell? Get out! Get out!” You shouted, face red both with anger and embarrassment from being startled as well as the fact you were only wearing an oversized t-shirt and underwear. “Oh but Princess, we were just enjoying the concert,” Leon said, Chris still having his hand over his mouth to stifle more laughter. “H-how long were you listening?” You were too stirred up by the overall situation to acknowledge the nickname. “Just the last two songs.” “Why are you even in here?” You demanded, though your words lacked the bite you intended too humiliated from being caught. Finally containing himself, Chris spoke. “Because, your Bro zonked out early and we got bored, so we came to check on our favorite little sis.”

“Well, now you have. So get out!” This time you chucked a wadded-up piece of paper at them, it hit Chris in the chest and promptly fell to the floor. It was clear that your paper weapon was not going to have either of them budging. “C’mon don’t be like that” Leon said walking over to you. “ ‘sides, what’s keeping you up so late, anyway?” He asked looking over at your desk. “Studying. Which you’re distracting me from, so if you don’t mind, leave.” “Studying, huh?” Leon looked over to Chris and they gave each other a knowing nod that made your stomach twist. “Why don’t we stay and keep you company then?” Chris walked over to stand next to Leon. “Yeah come on, we promise we’ll behave, you won’t even know we’re here.” “That’s what you always say, I’m not going to fall for this again.” “We promise.” They said in unison. Chris continues on, “Pinky swear.” “If I don’t say yes you’re just going to keep asking aren’t you?” The two nod. “You know us so well.” Leon adds with a smirk.

After a long drawn out sigh, you decided to agree, knowing there was no point in arguing. “Fine, but I’m holding you to that promise.” You linked your pinky with Chris’. “Of course, the pinky swear is a sacred pact.” Leon chimed in. “Cross our hearts and hope to die.” Chris adds.

You turn back to your work. “Here’s to hoping,” you say mockingly, crossing your fingers before picking the pencil back up. You swear you hear them high five behind you, but you decide to ignore it, and put your headphones back on. Bad choice. Not even five minutes late you hear rummaging behind you and the sound of stifled laughter through the music in your ears.

“Dude, shut up, she’ll hear you.” Chris’ hushed voice was heard.

You turned to look at them and saw all your dresser drawers were pulled out, the stuff inside in disarray. Each of them held a ‘toy’ in their hand, the one in Leon’s turned on and vibrating. Neither noticed you had turned around.

Leon went to smack Chris with the vibrating dildo but Chris blocked it with the one he was holding. Quickly it devolved into them sword fighting with the toys. “Nice try Redfield, but you’ll never disarm me.” “What comic book villain did you get that line from, loser?” Chris asked, colliding the red silicone against the purple one in Leon’s hand. The two continued their noble battle until Leon looked over and saw you staring with crossed arms, an unamused look on your face. He froze instantly, Chris was a little late on the upkeep so he managed to thwack Leon in the face before he realized you were watching. “You two promised to behave, what the hell are you doing?”

“Uh…..we were trying to be quiet.” Leon offered. “Yeah, really we didn’t mean to distract you. We just couldn’t help ourselves.” “Out!” You said furiously, getting up and yanking the toys back from them before putting them back into the drawer and, slamming it closed. “Aw come on, don’t we at least deserve a second chance? I mean we were being better behaved than usual.” Leon asked moving closer to you. “He’s right, we were doing our best. But hey I have a better idea, let us make it up to you, we can help you study.” “I don’t need your help!” “Ok. Ok. Maybe what you really need is a break then, we can help with that too.” Leon offered. “What I need, is to finish studying, so if you two would just get the –” “Studying it is then!” Chris said before you could finish.

Leon lifted you up carrying you back over to your desk chair, placing you onto his lap. Ignoring how nervous you were to be sitting on him with just underwear – though you were silently thankful they hadn’t brought that up – it seemed they were serious about helping. Chris lifted up the textbook and began flipping through the chapter you were reading while Leon eyed the notes you had written, wrapping one arm around you to keep you planted on his lap. Chris said something to you, but you didn’t hear it, too focused on the feeling of heat against your back and the smell of Leon’s cologne. It was spicy, causing your brain to go a little fuzzy every time you inhaled it. Plus, when did he get so strong? He lifted you up like you were nothing just a moment ago.

Chris snapped his fingers in front of you twice. “Hey ditzy, you listening?” “Uh..yeah.” You said lamely, swallowing a lump in your throat. Your eyes now tracked upwards to Chris. God he looked strong, too, with his biceps threatening to bust his shirt open like some cheesy action movie. When he leaned down to make sure he had your attention, his citrus and mint scent hit you like a truck – the combination of both of them had your nerves feeling like live wires, it was hard to focus on anything else.

What the fuck was wrong with you right now?

But then again…when did the two of them get so handsome too. With Chris’ broad shoulders and strong jaw, you briefly wondered what it would feel like if you got to rub your cheek against the scruffy stubble he had. And Leon too, were his eyes always so pretty and blue?

Forget those thoughts. Please, forget those thoughts, you begged your own brain. “Are you sure you’re listening?” When did Leon’s voice start to sound so- god, please make these feelings stop.

It was too late, you already felt heat building up between your legs, underwear becoming clingy with wetness. You squirmed a little on Leon’s lap trying to ease the discomfort, and hopefully not create a wet spot on his pajama pants. You were having the world’s hardest time concentrating on any actual conversation. “You seem flush,” Chris said leaning forward. “Not feeling well all of a sudden, got a fever? That why you can’t talk, baby?”

“N-no…” You stammered, trying to get up, but Leon tightened his grip. First ‘Princess’ and now ‘Baby,’ the pet names were new and they were killing you. They shouldn’t sound so good coming from their voices. Chris eyed you and then his gaze traveled lower, feeling self-conscious you yanked your t-shirt down further to cover yourself. “Hiding something?” “N-no! Can’t you both just go?” “Aww but we’re just trying to help,” Leon said nuzzling his chin into your neck and shoulder, wrapping his other arm around you like a hug. “You two are so annoying!” You tried getting up again but were still denied the autonomy to move. Chris raised a brow and tugged up the hem of your shirt slightly. He put his hand on his chin as if he was considering everything. “Oh…I think I know what the issue is.” “Mm, yeah? What might that be?” Leon asked, adjusting his leg so that it was firmly between your thighs, pressing against your heat – very obviously pretending that he had no idea what was going on. The motion caused a jolt of pleasure to shoot up through your body, a noise escaping your lips without permission. “Ah, I see…” Leon said matching Chris’ tone. “Looks like you’re making a mess all over my lap baby.” The words were equally mortifying as they were sexy, causing your clit to throb. Your mouth hung open, not able to muster a response. Chris reached down and gently swiped two fingers along the wet part of your panties, giving your clit the stimulation it had been craving, a mewl working its way out of you. “Poor Princess, so worked up just for us.” “That explains why you’re always so feisty pretty girl. You been this pent up this whole time? All you had to do was ask and we’d have taken such good care of you.” Leon purred, running a hand up your shirt until he was cupping your right breast, massaging it softly.

Their affection had your head going all foggy while your body was set alight with an arousing heat you’d never experienced before. A brief moment of clarity came over you and you reminded yourself who these two were. Your brother’s friends. The banes of your existence. This was not going to happen, you shook your head to get your bearings before you slapped Chris’ hand away and tried to wrench Leon’s arms off of you.

“Uh uh.” Chris said shaking his head. “Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of us to abandon a girl in need. Even if she is a little brat.”

“Be easy, Sweetheart.” Leon cooed, working his other hand up your shirt, playing with both breasts and pulling you to lean closer back into him.

Any protest you had died in your throat when Chris’ fingers resumed their place on the outside of your panties, slick covering his fingers through the fabric. You keened into their touching, soon feeling Leon’s clothed boner pressing into you. Chris’ own erection was obvious in his pants as well from where he stood in front of you, straining against the cotton fabric.

Soon his fingers were pulled away from your lower half in favor of assisting in tugging your shirt off. You whined at the loss of contact and ground down onto Leon’s leg desperate to not lose all of the delicious heat that was building up. “Christ, I think she’s even needier than we thought.” Leon said, cock throbbing at your movement. “Looks like it.” Chris agreed, reaching down to grab at your legs, halting your movements. “Don’t be so impatient baby, we got you.”

“Kiss me.” You whimpered breathlessly reaching your arms out and wrapping them around his neck pulling him closer. Chris didn’t need to be told twice as he crashed his lips into yours, immediately deepening it by using his tongue to explore your mouth. Leon obliged the request as well from behind, pressing small kisses along your shoulder and neck, before sucking a bruise into the skin, making you buck slightly and moan into Chris’ mouth. When Chris pulled away, he tugged you up, Leon removing his arms so you could allow yourself to be led to the bed where he laid you down on your back. Leon followed and sat next to you, leaning down to kiss you as Chris worked your wet panties down your legs, pulling them off. The cold air hitting your pussy made you shudder. Leon’s tongue was halfway down your throat when Chris had darted his own forward, lapping at your clit. A strangled noise escaped your mouth. Never had you been this turned on before, getting lost in the sensations of the two of them. Your brain was becoming overstimulated trying to pick which sensation to focus on, soon any thought functionality was shut down as pure hazy lust took over. Your hips bucked up wildly chasing pleasure against Chris’ face before he wrapped his strong arms around your legs holding them in place, so he could continue at his own pace. It was just fast enough to keep the pleasure where it was at, but not enough to bring you to completion. In a fit of frustration you worked your hands up Leon’s shirt, to paw at his muscles while you matched the intensity of his kissing. The second there was a break in the kiss you whined to Leon. “Chris‘ bein’ mean, too much teasing.” Leon chuckled. “Hear that Redfield? You’re not being very nice to our Princess here. As a gentleman I can’t allow that.” He leaned down pushing Chris’ face away from your sopping pussy earning another whine. From where he was leaning over you, he took over from Chris, using the tip of his tongue to circle your clit. Chris unwrapped one arm from your leg so he could press two fingers into your heat pumping them in and out while Leon continued to attack your sensitive bundle of nerves. The stimulation was driving you wild as you gripped the bedding beneath you so hard your knuckles turned white. Your screams of pleasure turned into frustation as Chris removed his fingers, and Leon leaned back. “Oh no, you didn’t think we’d let you get off that easy, did you?” Your foggy mind took a moment to recognize the voice as Leon’s.

“What happened-” You are cut off with a moan as Chris re-inserts his fingers, beginning to thrust back into you at a agonizingly slow pace. “Come on” You whine, moving your hips- hoping to get any additional stimulation. “What happened to being a gentleman?”

You hear a chuckle from Chris. “Where’s the fun in bein’ a gentleman? Besides, I think it’s high time for a little payback from how you were talking to us earlier, dont you think?” “He’s right baby, always so mean to us, trying to kick us out when we just wanted to help.” Leon gave you a mock pout.

A mewling whine left your lips. “There we go, keep it coming baby.” Chris said continuing to thrust his fingers in and out, Leon adding to the pleasure once more when he leans back in to lap at your sensitive clit, overstimulating you until tears ran down your face.

“Damn Redfield, you really are a menace” Leon leaned back once more and chuckled, watching Chris pick up the pace before moving back up your body to kiss the tears off of your cheeks. “It’s ok Baby, just focus on me.” He cooed, connecting your lips together again. So close to your peak once more, Chris pulled free of your cunt, ruining yet another orgasm. He stood to tug his shirt and pants off. Breaking away from the kiss, Leon stood and followed suit, making a show of stripping his clothes off before returning to his spot next to you. “Think you can keep going?” Chris asked, giving his own cock a few pumps.

When you didn’t respond, Leon piped up, brushing a few sweaty strands of hair out of your face. “Hey baby girl, I know you’re a little dumb right now, but he asked you a question. You want us to keep making you feel good, yeah?” You nodded against his touch, panting harshly against his palm.

“Good girl.” Chris said stepping forward until he was back in front of the bed. “Now why don’t you keep showing us what a good girl you are by trusting us, ok?”

You weren’t entirely sure what he meant until Chris tugged you up by your arms so you were sitting before lifting you up, holding you with one arm wrapped around your back and the other under your butt. You clung to him as he backed away from the bed giving space for Leon to stand up behind you.

“Promise we won’t drop you.” Leon said, helping Chris support your weight so he could reach down and line himself up with your entrance. Soon you felt the stinging stretch as Chris bottomed out in you, he gave you a moment to adjust only rocking his hips slightly in shallow thrusts. “Jesus, you’re so fucking tight.” He groaned, using all of his willpower to not slide you up and down his shaft like a human fleshlight.

As Chris found his rhythm inside you, knowing when and where to grind to turn your brain further into mush, you began to lose track of anything other than the feeling.

Once slick was dripping to the floor as his thrusts sped up, Leon teased your entrance with his own painfully hard cock. A pitiful whimper left your mouth, as you were brought a bit back to awareness at the prodding. “N-not gonna fit.” You pleaded. “Sure it will baby, ya’ just gotta relax f’me.” Chris stopped his movements to make it easier for Leon to slide himself in, which he did agonizingly slowly, inch by inch until he was balls deep. The feeling was overwhelming, never having been so stretched and full before. An unintelligable string of words left your mouth as you flopped forward, resting your chin on Chris’ shoulder. The two of them gave you a few moments to adjust to their intrusion before they began to move.

They worked in sync, one pulling out while the other was thrusting back in, not giving the sensitive spot inside of you a single break. “That’s it baby, such a good girl.” Chris praised. “Fuck, taking us so good.” Leon added, reaching a hand between you and Chris to rub at your sensitive bud.

You were squished between both of them as they pounded your sopping hole and showered you with praises. Bathing in their affections, you were so close again. “G-gonna cum–”

“That’s it, go ahead and cream around our cocks, sweet girl.” Chris praised.

The built up heat in your core finally snapped sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body. Shouts of their names left your mouth as they worked you through your orgasm. It was obvious they were close as their thrusts became less rhythmic and their praises died out into grunts.

Chris was the first to finish, his grip on you tightening so hard you were sure there would be bruises later. You could feel his hot cum filling your insides, the sensation making you shiver further in pleasure as you worked through the aftershocks of your orgasm. He slipped his softening cock out of you, but held you in place for Leon, who followed close behind spilling more hot ropes of cum.

Your mind came back to you as Leon pulled out, cunt spasming weakly from the leftover stimulation of just how empty you now feel. You moan a little into Chris’s shoulder again as their essence drips out of you.

“You’ve been so good for us, princess.” Chris kisses your cheek and murmurs into your ear. “How about we get you cleaned up, yeah?” He motions with a quick flick of his eyes towards your door, that Leon immediately picks up the meaning of.

“Yeah,” You hear Leon’s voice get softer as he pads away from you to the other side of the room, followed by the sound of a door opening and the shower starting. “Our princess did so well, I think she deserves some pampering.”

You hear the footsteps coming closer and feel a soft kiss on the back of your neck, before you feel Leon perch his chin on your shoulder. You hum sleepily and lean your head back against him.

“How about it, baby? Quick shower and we promise we’ll let you sleep.” Leon leans back from you and begins walking to the bathroom once he sees your small nod.

“We’ll even make it real nice for you, be all gentlemanly this time.” Chris pipes in as he, still carrying you with you clutching him like a sleepy Koala, making his way after Leon to your bathroom.

The rush of warm water running over your body was so relaxing to your already spent muscles, you could’ve fallen asleep right there and you almost did until you nearly collapsed into Chris. He gently pushed you back into Leon’s arms. Afraid they wanted to go for round two, you whined and attempted to wiggle out of his grasp. “No, can’t do anymore.”

”I know, I know. Shh. We promise no more, we just gotta clean you out a bit so you don't feel so gross when you wake up” Leon said softly, supporting your weight against him. The feeling of the washrag against the soreness between your legs caused you to groan slightly.

”That’s a good girl, we’re almost done” Leon murmurs into your ear, watching as Chris finishes washing you up. Once done with the obvious mess, they work together to clean the rest of you. Chris takes the opportunity to use his large hands, rubbing the soap into your sore muscles like a massage. Leon behind you gently prods at your scalp with his fingers working the shampoo through your hair. “S’nice.” You mumble, closing your eyes to enjoy the sensation. They share a grin over your shoulder at the compliment, as they finish by rinsing you off.

Once finished with you, they take turns holding you close so they can quickly wash themselves off before the shower is turned off and you’re being wrapped in a plush sized towel. Leon picked you up bridal style and nuzzled at your cheek. “Now lets get all warm and cozy and get some sleep, yeah?” He asked, walking back to your bedroom. Leon sets you on the bed, where you almost nod off until Chris starts pulling his discarded T-shirt over your head, and helps you step into fresh underwear. “There we go princess, all clean, all dressed.” You flop back onto the bed barely able to keep any level of consciousness but still present enough to whine and reach out for them when they’re not immediately climbing in with you. Chris chuckles, “Don’t worry we’re not leaving.” The two of them make quick work of pulling on their own discarded boxers and pants from earlier before finally climbing into the bed, sandwiching you between them. “See baby? We’re right here.” Leon says, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back while you bury your face in his chest. “That’s right. Hope you know you’re ours now baby girl. Get some sleep.” Chris adds kissing the back of your neck. You were too tired to fully absorb the meaning of his words, already slipping into unconsciousness between them. Your last thought as you fall asleep is “maybe they're not so bad after all”.

#Leon Kennedy x Reader #Leon Kennedy x You #Leon Kennedy x Y/N #Chris Redfield x Reader #Chris Redfield x You #Chris Redfield x Y/N #Leon Kennedy #Leon S Kennedy #Leon Scott Kennedy #Chris Redfield #Resident Evil #Reader Insert #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Female Reader #x Reader #Resident Evil Fanfiction

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koolades-world · 2 months

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Spellbound Secrets

prologue: calm before the storm

synopsis: The House of Lamentation caught fire one night, and you were the only one they recovered from the wreckage. The brothers were in the house as well when you went to bed that night, but they were nowhere to be found. The pact marks are faded, and seem to be getting more and more indefinite by the day. You and Solomon get to investigating but oddly enough, nobody can seem to remember the missing brothers. It’s up to you, with the help of Solomon, to find your beloved demons, lest you never see them again.

navigation: playlist | prologue (you are here!) | chapter one (coming next saturday)

authors note: this was postponed because a roach haha, but! it’s finally here and I’m excited to share the product of my hard work with you all! what do we think of the banner? made it myself! i think it’s nice but I’ll probably hate it in a couple of years haha. please do check out the playlist i made too. more explanation will be made on the post about it :) special thanks to @aaliyahxxvi and @rcbsbb for beta reading each and every chapter for me, as well as being awesome friends <3

While your several years of living in the Devildom came with its challenges, you wouldn't trade it for anything. It was hard to adjust to, and it felt like every day came with a new hurtle for you to overcome. From almost having your soul stolen, to almost failing several classes, to almost dying, you'd seen it all. But, every time, the key word was almost. You always made it out relatively unscathed, to the point where it was a running joke between you and the brothers, some more so than others. (Lucifer didn't find it very funny.)

You really couldn't ask for more. Despite how things seemed early on in your stay, you'd really begun to enjoy everything about the life you hadn't expected, no less asked for. There was so much about living you truly looked forward to now.

Every morning, you knew to expect Mammon either in your room already because he spent the night over, or barging in as soon as he was awake so you could get ready together. More often than not, in the middle of getting ready, Asmo would burst into the room and ask your opinion on what to wear that day. He and Mammon would bicker and if you didn't end the fighting, they'd disperse on their own once they realized you'd walked off. Lucifer wasn't a morning demon, which took you longer to learn that you'd thought, still took the time out of his morning to brew you a cup of coffee.

Every afternoon, you enjoyed a tea with Satan while you read or did some homework together. Sometimes, you didn't say a single word to each other, but just being together was comforting enough. Then, you'd spent a while with Levi, playing whatever game he'd selected for that day. If it was a game you couldn't play together, you'd happily talk about your day while the other played the game. Finally, once it started to get later in the day and the Devildom began to cool down, you accompanied Beel on his second workout of the day. After a long day, you snuggled with Belphie and unwound. As much as he protested about it, he made a great pillow.

You always had a movie night at least once a week which everyone was required to attend; the brothers didn't have it in them to say no. More often than not, the members of Purgatory Hall and the Demon Lord's Castle (if Barbatos permitted it) came over to join you. It was just a fun excuse to get together and enjoy each other's company.

The routine was comforting, to say the least. You'd all grown into it. You felt safe, and content.

That night had started and ended just like any other. It had been Asmo's turn to cook dinner, and as part of a deal the two of you had made together, he'd agreed to make your favorite. In exchange, he made you promise to reserve one evening just for him. Lingering in the kitchen while he cooked was one of your favorite pastimes.

That night, you were almost certain you feel asleep with three demons in your room. Mammon had claimed your right side, as he usually did, which left your other side up for grabs. Satan laid on your left with a book in hand, one you recognized as one you'd gotten together in the human world, and a little reading light. Levi was at the end of the bed, on his Devilswitch. You and Mammon had briefly argued over the remote, but in the end, you selected what you watched even though he had the remote. You chided Satan for having the light on, to which he apologized for and tried his best to keep it out of your eyes. He didn't move though, because he wasn't willing to give up his spot. Levi didn't cause too much of a disturbance, only the occasional exclamations about whatever he was playing.

It wasn't anything out of the ordinary: how things should be. You looked forward to tomorrow. You could already picture what the next day held. You had plans with Satan to head to a new bookstore at the edge of town, and Beel wanted to go on an evening hike and picnic in a nearby park, to which you weren't going to refuse.

If only things were to play out as you imagined.

You weren't sure exactly what time it was when you woke up, but it was blistering, and you couldn't identify a reason why. Your sheets were dangling off the bed, likely the doing of Mammon. You fan was at the highest speed, but it actually only seemed to be making the heat worse. Even stranger was the fact that not a single one of the demons you'd fallen asleep with at your side was present. Not Satan, not Levi, and even not Mammon. In your sleepy stupor, you peeled off the fluffy jacket you were wearing in an attempt to cool off, leaving you in a thinner undershirt. As you plodded around the room, you saw they were nowhere in sight. Their belongings were scattered about, as if they were only going to be gone for a short amount of time and might be back any minute.

Perhaps you might've gone back to bed if you didn't hear the sound of a voice you thought you recognized through the door, accompanied by a muffled roaring. The doorknob burned to the touch, waking you up fully. You wrung out your hand and hissed, cradling it close to your body. It would surely result in a burn later, but for now, that was the least of your concern. The smell of smoke flooded your senses. The was a fire happening in the House of Lamentation, and you were trapped in your room with no way out.

You retreated back to your bed, ripping it apart in search of your D.D.D. Once you found it, you struggled to dial the Devildom equivalent of 911. Thankfully, the call went through and if nobody else had already made a call, they would be on their way.

"666, what is the address of your emergency?" The operator on the other end of the line spoke calmly and clearly.

"The House of Lamentation. The big, haunted creepy house. On Hollow Avenue. I think my house is on fire. I'm trapped in my bedroom." You kept your voice as even as you could so she could understand you.

"The fire department is on their way, sweetie. Are there any other exits?" You could hear the sound of the operator typing.

"No. The only way out is my door, and I burnt my hand on the doorknob. I know you're not supposed to open the door." You weren't sure when you had begun to shake, and struggled to hold the phone up to your ear.

"Alright, put a towel underneath the door to block smoke. Stay low to the ground if you can. What floor are you on?" You could hear the information you were giving to the operator being relayed to others. Doing as she asked, you threw open your closet door and shoved as many towels as you could between the door and the floor.

"First. I'm on the first floor. First floor. I'm not the only one who lives here though. They might be trapped too. I heard someone else before." You thought you heard someone yelling when you'd first approached the door, but you became quickly preoccupied with your own matters. You wished you hadn't.

"Don't panic. Someone is coming to rescue you. I'll stay on the line with you, alright?" She reassured you.

"Thank you." There was a slight pause in your conversation, so you continued to speak. "What's going to happen if they can't get to me in time?" A sort of morbid curiosity crossed your mind. You didn't want to find out, but the thought lingered.

"You're all going to be alright. Talk to me. What's your name?" You didn't know much about the tactics of dispatchers, but maybe she was trying to keep you calm.

"Mc. I'm Mc. I'm one of the human exchange students." You stumbled over your own name. You had no clue what to do besides answer her questions. You felt useless just standing in one spot, but were rooted there.

"How many other people are in the house?" She remained calm, and you took a deep breath, so you could continue to answer her questions. You could feel the panic creeping in and begin envelop you, not unlike the smoke you were trying to block out.

"There should be seven others. A family. I don't know where they are. They were in my room, but they're gone." She probably already knew who the brothers were, and who you were, but you couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth.

"What are you wearing?" She asked you.

"It's really hot in here, miss." You were quickly growing lightheaded, and drenched in sweat.

"I know. I'm sorry. What are you wearing?" She repeated herself.

"Um, a white tank top and some blue checkered pajama pants." Neither article of clothing belonged to you. The pants were Lucifer's and the tank top you'd stolen from Mammon. It was the one thing about the situation that managed to get you to think a little more positively.

"What's the charge on your device, Mc?" Her using your name shocked you a little. It took you a second to realize you'd just given her your name, which is how she knew.

"It's getting low." Because of the brothers staying over in your room, you never had the chance to plug it in before you went to sleep. Mammon had told you he would do it, but it seems you'd both forgotten.

"What percent?" She asked.

"Twenty-nine." You hoped the battery would last long enough.

"Don't hang up. Help will be there shortly." You tried to respond, but it felt as if all the breath had been knocked out of you. You felt as if your legs were going to give way, so you took a seat on the edge of your bed.

"Miss, I don't feel good." Sweat rolled down your forehead and would've gone into your eyes if you didn't swipe it away, which was growing more and more difficult by the second. The heat was agonizing and you almost felt like you were melting.

"Keep talking to me. How old are you?" When you didn't respond, the operator prompted you again. "Mc? Are you still there?"

You tried to continue to speak to her, but you couldn't form the words you wanted to. Nothing came out correctly. She continued to speak to you, but you just wanted to lay down. She grew quieter the more time passed. The room had started spinning at some point. The urge to close your eyes grew stronger and stronger, so you told yourself just a moment wouldn't hurt.

The next thing you remembered was waking up in what had to be a hospital room. You didn't recognize anything in the room, and everything was unusually bright. Whoever had last been in your room had tucked you in carefully in your hospital bed. You could see from your chest down, but your arms were sitting on to of the covers. An IV drip was in your left arm, and from the elbow down, your right arm was wrapped in bandages. The TV in the room was on to your favorite Devildom cooking channel. It was an episode you'd seen before, so you didn't bother to focus on it. Besides the sound of the television you could hear hushed whispering and shuffling from the hallway, and the constant beeping of the machine connected to you.

As you were taking in your surroundings, the door just out of your line of sight opened. You expected it to be one of the brothers, or a nurse maybe, but it was Solomon. It was nice to see a familiar face regardless of who it belonged to.

"Mc! You're awake. I'll call the nurse." With a smile befitting of the gods, he moved to leave the room again.

"Wait, please." He paused with his hand on the doorknob. "What happened?" Solomon backtracked and pulled up a chair to sit beside your bed. You stared at him expectantly, as he thought about, presumably, what to say next.

"The House of Lamentation caught on fire, but thankfully, you were alright. You got some burns but the doctor says it could've been much worse. You've been out for about a day now. How much do you remember?" He flexed his fingers.

"Not much, but I think that's a good thing. How are the brothers? I hope they're doing well." You expected Solomon to just answer the question, but instead, he cocked an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?" At first, you just assumed he was kidding, but this was an odd thing to be joking about.

"You know, the seven brothers? They're the avatars of sin? They should've been in the house. Are they fine or did they get hurt in the fire too?" When he only stared at you blankly, you didn't know how to react. "You're scaring me, Solomon. This isn't funny." You thought back over what you'd said. It all made sense in your head, but something just wasn't clicking for Solomon.

"Who are 'the brothers?'"

#spellbound secrets #prologue #gn reader #obey me!#obey me #obey me solomon #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

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desperatemeasures-if · 1 year

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✶ DEMO (TBA) ✶

It's always the picture-perfect days that end the shittiest...

You had finally been having a good day after a horrible week-- nice weather, good company, and you got your manager off your ass-- but you should have known that was only the calm before the storm. A storm that completely rips apart not only your life but that of your family-- not the ones related by blood, you had given up on them long ago, but the people that had taken you in and given you a home. The Vipers, the most reputable gang in the Northside of Riverwood, and the only family you had left.

The boss is dead... We have no leads.

A single message had completely turned your life on its head. The man that had singlehandedly saved you from yourself, from ending up face down in a gutter, was dead. You don't hesitate in volunteering to help hunt down his killer-- not if it meant protecting your family and avenging his death. Even if it means calling on your biggest rivals for help or getting assisted by an over-eager detective.

Desperate times called for desperate measures...

Desperate Measures is rated 18+ for explicit language, sexual themes, drug and alcohol use, violence, intense interrogations, blood, questionable behavior, and more.

✶ Features ✶ Character Intros (WIP) ✶

Customize your MC: appearance, parts of your personality, segments of your background, hobbies, vices, and more! Do you have what it takes to avenge the death of your mentor? Do you have a nickname that's specific to the Vipers?

While you're investigating make sure you maintain contact with your gang, and don't forget that you have a job. Even if it is just at a shitty cafe.

Romance is definitely something that is offered and will bring insightful moments to characters that may otherwise remain an enigma to you. Or, of course, you can strike up a friendship with them!

Find a killer and either take justice into your own hands, allow someone else to do it, or follow the law!

✶ The ROs ✶

Heather Grant ✶ She/Her ✶ 29 ✶

The Heiress of Riverwood Royalty, the Grant Family, and one of the only people that could offer assistance with the investigation-- with her limitless amount of resources and the fact that the Grant Family seemed to own all of Riverwood. The only problem? She absolutely hates the Vipers. Will you be able to come to some sort of middle ground?

Special Aspects: Enemies-to-Lovers, but will you be able even to blame her for her hatred in the end?

Damien Frost ✶ He/Him ✶ 29 ✶

A recently promoted detective within the RPD. A man that's been assigned the case, either out of pity or malevolence, you aren't quite sure, but Detective Frost isn't one to give up, even when all the odds seem to be stacked against him. In fact, he seems to have a penchant to appear wherever you are, and he doesn't seem to mind at all that he's working alongside criminals. He simply wants to get the crime solved. Is it only because he wishes to prove himself? Or is it something more?

Special Aspects: Law Enforcement Officer with a Gangster... Need I say more?

Stephen/Stephanie Matthews ✶ He/Him or She/Her ✶ 27 ✶

Stephen/Stephanie, or simply Stevie, is someone you know you can count on no matter what. They'd as easily offer you their last beer as they would knife someone in the gut to protect you. Your best friend since you joined the Vipers, being the one that had trained you after your initiation, it's no surprise that they join you on the hunt for the killer.

Special Aspects: Best Friends to Lovers

Gabriel/Gabriella DeLuca ✶ He/Him or She/Her ✶ 28 ✶

The other half of your motley crew within the Vipers. Gabby is known for a multitude of things within the Northside, being a jack of all trades when it comes to their skills, but their true trademark is the sea of broken hearts they've left in their wake. With a disarming smile and devil-may-care attitude, it isn't hard to understand how someone could be pulled into their axis. It's just escaping it unscathed that's the challenge.

Special Aspects: Have the option to be friends with benefits, or simply friends, and see how that could influence the possible romance to come.

Leon/Lena Prince ✶ He/Him or She/Her ✶ 28 ✶

The one person you wouldn't wish to run into within Riverwood-- having completely destroyed your relationship with them; possibly breaking their heart in the process. You haven't heard much about them since you left the Southside, but learning about them taking over the rival gang of the Vipers? Your week just couldn't get any better, could it?

Special Aspects: Exes-to-Rivals-to-Friends-to-Lovers (once more). Will you be able to build back the trust you lost?

#desperate measures #interactive fiction #interactive game #choice script #cog game #hosted game #dashingdon #if wip #no demo

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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Apple fucked us on right to repair (again)

Today (September 22), I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. Tonight, I'll be in person at LA's Book Soup for the launch of Justin C Key's "The World Wasn’t Ready for You." On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

Right to repair has no cannier, more dedicated adversary than Apple, a company whose most innovative work is dreaming up new ways to sneakily sabotage electronics repair while claiming to be a caring environmental steward, a lie that covers up the mountains of e-waste that Apple dooms our descendants to wade through.

Why does Apple hate repair so much? It's not that they want to poison our water and bodies with microplastics; it's not that they want to hasten the day our coastal cities drown; it's not that they relish the human misery that accompanies every gram of conflict mineral. They aren't sadists. They're merely sociopathically greedy.

Tim Cook laid it out for his investors: when people can repair their devices, they don't buy new ones. When people don't buy new devices, Apple doesn't sell them new devices. It's that's simple:

https://www.inverse.com/article/52189-tim-cook-says-apple-faces-2-key-problems-in-surprising-shareholder-letter

So Apple does everything it can to monopolize repair. Not just because this lets the company gouge you on routine service, but because it lets them decide when your phone is beyond repair, so they can offer you a trade-in, ensuring both that you buy a new device and that the device you buy is another Apple.

There are so many tactics Apple gets to use to sabotage repair. For example, Apple engraves microscopic Apple logos on the subassemblies in its devices. This allows the company to enlist US Customs to seize and destroy refurbished parts that are harvested from dead phones by workers in the Pacific Rim:

https://repair.eu/news/apple-uses-trademark-law-to-strengthen-its-monopoly-on-repair/

Of course, the easiest way to prevent harvested components from entering the parts stream is to destroy as many old devices as possible. That's why Apple's so-called "recycling" program shreds any devices you turn over to them. When you trade in your old iPhone at an Apple Store, it is converted into immortal e-waste (no other major recycling program does this). The logic is straightforward: no parts, no repairs:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/yp73jw/apple-recycling-iphones-macbooks

Shredding parts and cooking up bogus trademark claims is just for starters, though. For Apple, the true anti-repair innovation comes from the most pernicious US tech law: Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA).

DMCA 1201 is an "anti-circumvention" law. It bans the distribution of any tool that bypasses "an effective means of access control." That's all very abstract, but here's what it means: if a manufacturer sticks some Digital Rights Management (DRM) in its device, then anything you want to do that involves removing that DRM is now illegal – even if the thing itself is perfectly legal.

When Congress passed this stupid law in 1998, it had a very limited blast radius. Computers were still pretty expensive and DRM use was limited to a few narrow categories. In 1998, DMCA 1201 was mostly used to prevent you from de-regionalizing your DVD player to watch discs that had been released overseas but not in your own country.

But as we warned back then, computers were only going to get smaller and cheaper, and eventually, it would only cost manufacturers pennies to wrap their products – or even subassemblies in their products – in DRM. Congress was putting a gun on the mantelpiece in Act I, and it was bound to go off in Act III.

Welcome to Act III.

Today, it costs about a quarter to add a system-on-a-chip to even the tiniest parts. These SOCs can run DRM. Here's how that DRM works: when you put a new part in a device, the SOC and the device's main controller communicate with one another. They perform a cryptographic protocol: the part says, "Here's my serial number," and then the main controller prompts the user to enter a manufacturer-supplied secret code, and the master controller sends a signed version of this to the part, and the part and the system then recognize each other.

This process has many names, but because it was first used in the automotive sector, it's widely known as VIN-Locking (VIN stands for "vehicle identification number," the unique number given to every car by its manufacturer). VIN-locking is used by automakers to block independent mechanics from repairing your car; even if they use the manufacturer's own parts, the parts and the engine will refuse to work together until the manufacturer's rep keys in the unlock code:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

VIN locking is everywhere. It's how John Deere stops farmers from fixing their own tractors – something farmers have done literally since tractors were invented:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/08/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors/

It's in ventilators. Like mobile phones, ventilators are a grotesquely monopolized sector, controlled by a single company Medtronic, whose biggest claim to fame is effecting the world's largest tax inversion in order to manufacture the appearance that it is an Irish company and therefore largely untaxable. Medtronic used the resulting windfall to gobble up most of its competitors.

During lockdown, as hospitals scrambled to keep their desperately needed supply of ventilators running, Medtronic's VIN-locking became a lethal impediment. Med-techs who used donor parts from one ventilator to keep another running – say, transplanting a screen – couldn't get the device to recognize the part because all the world's civilian aircraft were grounded, meaning Medtronic's technicians couldn't swan into their hospitals to type in the unlock code and charge them hundreds of dollars.

The saving grace was an anonymous, former Medtronic repair tech, who built pirate boxes to generate unlock codes, using any housing they could lay hands on to use as a case: guitar pedals, clock radios, etc. This tech shipped these gadgets around the world, observing strict anonymity, because Article 6 of the EUCD also bans circumvention:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/10/flintstone-delano-roosevelt/#medtronic-again

Of course, Apple is a huge fan of VIN-locking. In phones, VIN-locking is usually called "serializing" or "parts-pairing," but it's the same thing: a tiny subassembly gets its own microcontroller whose sole purpose is to prevent independent repair technicians from fixing your gadget. Parts-pairing lets Apple block repairs even when the technician uses new, Apple parts – but it also lets Apple block refurb parts and third party parts.

For many years, Apple was the senior partner and leading voice in blocking state Right to Repair bills, which it killed by the dozen, leading a coalition of monopolists, from Wahl (who boobytrap their hair-clippers with springs that cause their heads irreversibly decompose if you try to sharpen them at home) to John Deere (who reinvented tenant farming by making farmers tenants of their tractors, rather than their land).

But Apple's opposition to repair eventually became a problem for the company. It's bad optics, and both Apple customers and Apple employees are volubly displeased with the company's ecocidal conduct. But of course, Apple's management and shareholders hate repair and want to block it as much as possible.

But Apple knows how to Think Differently. It came up with a way to eat its cake and have it, too. The company embarked on a program of visibly support right to repair, while working behind the scenes to sabotage it.

Last year, Apple announced a repair program. It was hilarious. If you wanted to swap your phone's battery, all you had to do was let Apple put a $1200 hold on your credit card, and then wait while the company shipped you 80 pounds' worth of specialized tools, packed in two special Pelican cases:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/22/apples-cement-overshoes/

Then, you swapped your battery, but you weren't done! After your battery was installed, you had to conference in an authorized Apple tech who would tell you what code to type into a laptop you tethered to the phone in order to pair it with your phone. Then all you had to do was lug those two 40-pound Pelican cases to a shipping depot and wait for Apple to take the hold off your card (less the $120 in parts and fees).

By contrast, independent repair outfits like iFixit will sell you all the tools you need to do your own battery swap – including the battery! for $32. The whole kit fits in a padded envelope:

https://www.ifixit.com/products/iphone-x-replacement-battery

But while Apple was able to make a showy announcement of its repair program and then hide the malicious compliance inside those giant Pelican cases, sabotaging right to repair legislation is a lot harder.

Not that they didn't try. When New York State passed the first general electronics right-to-repair bill in the country, someone convinced New York Governor Kathy Hochul to neuter it with last-minute modifications:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2022/12/weakened-right-to-repair-bill-is-signed-into-law-by-new-yorks-governor/

But that kind of trick only works once. When California's right to repair bill was introduced, it was clear that it was gonna pass. Rather than get run over by that train, Apple got on board, supporting the legislation, which passed unanimously:

https://www.ifixit.com/News/79902/apples-u-turn-tech-giant-finally-backs-repair-in-california

But Apple got the last laugh. Because while California's bill contains many useful clauses for the independent repair shops that keep your gadgets out of a landfill, it's a state law, and DMCA 1201 is federal. A state law can't simply legalize the conduct federal law prohibits. California's right to repair bill is a banger, but it has a weak spot: parts-pairing, the scourge of repair techs:

https://www.ifixit.com/News/69320/how-parts-pairing-kills-independent-repair

Every generation of Apple devices does more parts-pairing than the previous one, and the current models are so infested with paired parts as to be effectively unrepairable, except by Apple. It's so bad that iFixit has dropped its repairability score for the iPhone 14 from a 7 ("recommend") to a 4 (do not recommend):

https://www.ifixit.com/News/82493/we-are-retroactively-dropping-the-iphones-repairability-score-en

Parts-pairing is bullshit, and Apple are scum for using it, but they're hardly unique. Parts-pairing is at the core of the fuckery of inkjet printer companies, who use it to fence out third-party ink, so they can charge $9,600/gallon for ink that pennies to make:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Parts-pairing is also rampant in powered wheelchairs, a heavily monopolized sector whose predatory conduct is jaw-droppingly depraved:

https://uspirgedfund.org/reports/usp/stranded

But if turning phones into e-waste to eke out another billion-dollar stock buyback is indefensible, stranding people with disabilities for months at a time while they await repairs is so obviously wicked that the conscience recoils. That's why it was so great when Colorado passed the nation's first wheelchair right to repair bill last year:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/06/when-drm-comes-your-wheelchair

California actually just passed two right to repair bills; the other one was SB-271, which mirrors Colorado's HB22-1031:

https://leginfo.legislature.ca.gov/faces/billNavClient.xhtml?bill_id=202320240SB271

This is big! It's momentum! It's a start!

But it can't be the end. When Bill Clinton signed DMCA 1201 into law 25 years ago, he loaded a gun and put it on the nation's mantlepiece and now it's Act III and we're all getting sprayed with bullets. Everything from ovens to insulin pumps, thermostats to lightbulbs, has used DMCA 1201 to limit repair, modification and improvement.

Congress needs to rid us of this scourge, to let us bring back all the benefits of interoperability. I explain how this all came to be – and what we should do about it – in my new Verso Books title, The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

https://www.versobooks.com/products/3035-the-internet-con

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

Image: Mitch Barrie (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Daytona_Skeleton_AR-15_completed_rifle_%2817551907724%29.jpg

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

kambanji (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/kambanji/4135216486/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

Rawpixel (modified) https://www.rawpixel.com/image/12438797/png-white-background

#pluralistic #vin locking #apple #right to repair #california #ifixit #iphones #sb244 #parts pairing #serialization #dmca 1201 #felony contempt of business model #ewaste #repairwashing #fuckery

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karimarabize · 29 days

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Overweight slob to Muscular God

(This is my first time writing in a while so I apologise for any mistakes as I’m still a bit rusty, if you are interested in more transformations or hypnosis stories feel free to suggest any ideas you have)

Mike had been working out for months, foregoing all the foods he enjoyed and spending hours sweating in the gym doing anything and everything to get the body he desired, but nothing was working.

He hated looking in the mirror and the sniggering from his coworkers and friends as they would see him eating a salad or heading to the gym as if his attempts to get in shape made him some sort of sideshow attraction filled him with frustration.

Mike threw his towel and protein shake onto the gym floor as he slumped onto the bench growing more and more irritated at his lack of progress.

“Perhaps I can give you a few pointers my friend ?”

Mike whipped his head around angrily ready to yell at the unknown voice to piss off with his useless advice he didn’t ask for but upon seeing the man his words got caught in his throat and he was unable to speak as he was now face to face with the most muscular man he had ever met.

“My name is Mike”

Mike managed to mumble out nervously as the tall middle eastern man towered over him as his mind shut down over the intense authority and energy this man radiated.

“My name is Hassan my friend I have seen you in here working out you have a lot of determination you work harder than anyone else here”

The bulky middle eastern man says in a deep masculine voice

“My determination doesn’t seem to be making a damn difference”

Mike snapped his frustration getting the better of him

“No my friend nothing is wrong with your regime I’m afraid your simply being let down by your genetics which are promoting fat gain and muscle loss as you age”

Mike grimaced and clenched his fists hating that all his hard work was for naught simply because he had a genetic predisposition for a larger chubbier physique

“Try this my friend your genetics just need a helping hand”

The middle eastern demigod said handing Mike a sachet of protein power

“Masculinity Corp ?, isn’t that the huge genetics company ? Why are they making protein power”

Mike asked, but truthfully he didn’t care anymore he just wanted results, he mixed the sachet with water and downed the shake.

“Good let’s get to work brother”

Hassan grinned, and Mike felt his body surge with energy his mind felt clouded but his body was so light he breezed through every workout Hassan put him through and this continued day after day, week after week.

Mike never questioned how Hassan was always at the gym almost like he was waiting for him but he didn’t care he just wanted to do as Hassan suggested and lift heavier and heavier weights.

“How do you feel brother shall we take a photo to commemorate your progress ?”

Hassan asked smirking, Mike posed for the photo he knew he should be surprised or even worried about the changes he had gone through these past few months but he didn’t care he finally had the masculine body he always wanted.

His pale fair skin had darkened to a glorious caramel, his thin blonde hair had thickened and darkened granting him an unruly mop of hair and thick facial hair that would grow back in mere hours no matter how many times he shaved until he had given up trying at all.

“I am transformed I am complete now my brother”

Mike mumbled having never quite managed to shake the fog that had settled in his mind making him more compliant and docile to Hassan ever since he drank that sachet of protein power but the trade off was worth it as he grinned admiring his new body.

#arabophile #arab superiority #muscle #transformation #jockification #alpha jock #bodybuilding #arabization #mind control #race change #arab tf #hyper muscle

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nights-at-crystarium · 2 months

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DUMPS A MASSIVE STACK OF NOTES IN FRONT OF YOU OKAY SO- No I didn't just wait and hope for someone to ask about them, why'd you think that- I'll omit the details of how they grow close and what pushes them apart, but lemme dive into the broader chemistry. A fair warning for Fragments-spoilers if you wanna experience the comic's story as it unfolds.

Vivi needs An Adult, someone who'd stand up to his unruly character, ground him in reality, protect him. Raha perfectly fills this role, but so does Emet, merely with a different flavor. Vivi needs someone who experiences isolation and dehumanization on his level: being the wol is a lonely experience. He looks for an equal. He's okay with Emet's condescending attitude, his self-esteem doesn't want for coddling, and he can talk back anytime.

The Soulmate Magnet trope's fun, but on its own it's not enough for these two. Well, it obviously is for Emet, who seizes the chance to nibble on some crumbs that are left of Azem, what's dignity in face of all-consuming desperation. Vivi, however, his whole thing is showing middle finger to his destiny, the further it goes, the more allergic he gets to the "ooooohh it was meant to be this way~" bs that gets thrown at him ever so often. Emet's careful with the order and amount of information he discloses to Vivi, like expertly boiling a frog. Manipulation or not, they mutually benefit from this relationship. Emet gets his partner back, even if it's Not Him, half of Him feels pretty damn familiar, and Vivi gets a clear escape route from his destiny. Exchanging meaningful looks and knowing chuckles with you because we can tell that he embraces his overarching, ancient destiny this way, but shhhhhh, let him enjoy his hubris.

Out of the two, it's Emet who's a sad fool making a mistake that'd cost him everything. Of course this relationship has an impact on Vivi, but at least it doesn't kill him, eh- *gets kicked*

More under the cut /o/

Emet knows that he might be sabotaging himself, but he won't stop. He's infinitely more vulnerable to the Soulmate Magnet out of the two. He acknowledges that this could easily fail, that he might have to kill Vivi, but my Emet's killed so many not-azems anyway. He trades the potential pain of tomorrow for the small illusion of comfort today. As time goes on, he dares hoping again, hoping that this time might be different, goes all in with his cards, and, well, *waves vaguely* you'll see how that goes eventually.

The line between wolgraha and wolemet in Fragments is thinner than one may expect, the divergence where Vivi fully sides with Emet hinges on one human impulse. They already feel comfy enough, but Emet still hesitates to bare too much of his heart. They simply need more time together, which they can't have in canon because everyone expects Vivi to keep killing Lightwardens. The moment Vivi sees Emet's genuine smile and realizes that he wants to save him, to make him smile again and again, is when he trades entire world(s) for that. The catastrophic divergence isn't some epic scene, but a quiet click in his head. This decision still doesn't come easy, but Vivi would do it once he's sufficiently invested in Emet. The world owes him so much anyway. Time to take back what's been taken from him.

One important difference between Vivi and his Azem: what they'd do in a trolley problem. Vivi would literally burn worlds for one person dear to him, Azem would do (and actually did) the opposite, he didn't support the Zodiark plan AND left his lovers (Emet and Hyth) because he saw himself belonging to the people as a whole. This's becoming a tangent but Vivi absolutely hates his Azem when he finds out what - who - that infamous betrayal was really about.

But yeah Vivi takes Emet's side once he learns enough about him, he generally finds his company easy and pleasant. Another difference between Vivi and Azem: Vivi's incredibly nonjudgmental, embrace your cringe kinda guy. It takes time (which, again, they don't have in canon) for Emet to stop expecting to get teased at every turn, but even in the canon timeline he grows fond of Vivi, Vivi himself, not Azem, because Vivi's kind to him in a subtle, emotionally intelligent way that Azem's never been, he's casual and easygoing and dismissive, Emet's "tsun" just has no reason to activate. He expects betrayal, and it just. Never happens. (ofc it does in canon, but again, the line between canon and divergence is super thin).

Emet doesn't awaken Azem's memories in Vivi for several reasons. Vivi doesn't remember how they were back in the ancient past, but Emet does, he knows how to hold Vivi, who doesn't need much tbh, just company, just being quiet together. He acts disproportionately tired to the 3 years he's spent being the wol, and Emet, conveniently, just wants to chill with him. Funnily, Raha's regained excitement to be alive ends up being too much for Vivi sometimes, but I'm straying off the topic.

I treat their world as a real world that has literature, fiction, tropes, and Vivi tends to dream of being seduced by a villain. He thinks "enemies to lovers" is hot. He's cringe and he doesn't care. Surely this isn't the main force that drives them together, but it's worth mentioning for giggles.

Perhaps the most deliciously fucked up thing about villain!Vivi is how normal and human he'd remain, and drag Emet back up with him. He has no interest in the unsundered world, but he'd join the labor to make Emet happy. (I think I hit Vivi's chaotic neutral alignment on the head here). As long as Emet's in charge, as long as Vivi has no real pressure of responsibility, as long as he's merely a weapon (ironically, yeah), an instrument in master's hand, he doesn't mind. This pic should make more sense now.

Vivi finds someone who can save him from his destiny, break free from Hydaelyn, he never has to make another decision again if he's with Emet. His manic search for agency loops on itself, but hey, he DOES choose this, so arguably, this's more agency than he has as the wol. Even this early in the comic we can see that he simply wants to vibe, to be left alone. Just for that, Emet's actually better than Raha, if we dismiss the morals and destruction of worlds and all such nonsense.

When Emet's inevitably gone at the end of 5.0, it doesn't spell the end of their story. He lingers in the form of Vivi's obsession, questions that Vivi didn't get to ask him, agony of the Soulmate Magnet that Vivi's now aware of, Raha's bittersweet memories of him. He haunts this story forever. And ofc I'm writing an au on the side where he gets to live. It's not as enticing from the storytelling perspective because it's just "duh Emet lives and gets to be happy", but damn it heals my soul to indulge in that.

#vivien rell #emet-selch #emet selch #wolemet #text post #analysis #replies

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