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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months ago

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“Disenshittify or Die”

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I'm coming to BURNING MAN! On TUESDAY (Aug 27) at 1PM, I'm giving a talk called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE!" at PALENQUE NORTE (7&E). On WEDNESDAY (Aug 28) at NOON, I'm doing a "Talking Caterpillar" Q&A at LIMINAL LABS (830&C).

Last weekend, I traveled to Las Vegas for Defcon 32, where I had the immense privilege of giving a solo talk on Track 1, entitled "Disenshittify or die! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification":

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=54861

This was a followup to last year's talk, "An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet's Enshittification," a talk that kicked off a lot of international interest in my analysis of platform decay ("enshittification"):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rimtaSgGz_4

The Defcon organizers have earned a restful week or two, and that means that the video of my talk hasn't yet been posted to Defcon's Youtube channel, so in the meantime, I thought I'd post a lightly edited version of my speech crib. If you're headed to Burning Man, you can hear me reprise this talk at Palenque Norte (7&E); I'm kicking off their lecture series on Tuesday, Aug 27 at 1PM.

What the fuck happened to the old, good internet?

I mean, sure, our bosses were a little surveillance-happy, and they were usually up for sharing their data with the NSA, and whenever there was a tossup between user security and growth, it was always YOLO time.

But Google Search used to work. Facebook used to show you posts from people you followed. Uber used to be cheaper than a taxi and pay the driver more than a cabbie made. Amazon used to sell products, not Shein-grade self-destructing dropshipped garbage from all-consonant brands. Apple used to defend your privacy, rather than spying on you with your no-modifications-allowed Iphone.

There was a time when you searching for an album on Spotify would get you that album – not a playlist of insipid AI-generated covers with the same name and art.

Microsoft used to sell you software – sure, it was buggy – but now they just let you access apps in the cloud, so they can watch how you use those apps and strip the features you use the most out of the basic tier and turn them into an upcharge.

What – and I cannot stress this enough – the fuck happened?!

I’m talking about enshittification.

Here’s what enshittification looks like from the outside: First, you see a company that’s being good to its end users. Google puts the best search results at the top; Facebook shows you a feed of posts from people and groups you followl; Uber charges small dollars for a cab; Amazon subsidizes goods and returns and shipping and puts the best match for your product search at the top of the page.

That’s stage one, being good to end users. But there’s another part of this stage, call it stage 1a). That’s figuring out how to lock in those users.

There’s so many ways to lock in users.

If you’re Facebook, the users do it for you. You joined Facebook because there were people there you wanted to hang out with, and other people joined Facebook to hang out with you.

That’s the old “network effects” in action, and with network effects come “the collective action problem." Because you love your friends, but goddamn are they a pain in the ass! You all agree that FB sucks, sure, but can you all agree on when it’s time to leave?

No way.

Can you agree on where to go next?

Hell no.

You’re there because that’s where the support group for your rare disease hangs out, and your bestie is there because that’s where they talk with the people in the country they moved away from, then there’s that friend who coordinates their kid’s little league car pools on FB, and the best dungeon master you know isn’t gonna leave FB because that’s where her customers are.

So you’re stuck, because even though FB use comes at a high cost – your privacy, your dignity and your sanity – that’s still less than the switching cost you’d have to bear if you left: namely, all those friends who have taken you hostage, and whom you are holding hostage

Now, sometimes companies lock you in with money, like Amazon getting you to prepay for a year’s shipping with Prime, or to buy your Audible books on a monthly subscription, which virtually guarantees that every shopping search will start on Amazon, after all, you’ve already paid for it.

Sometimes, they lock you in with DRM, like HP selling you a printer with four ink cartridges filled with fluid that retails for more than $10,000/gallon, and using DRM to stop you from refilling any of those ink carts or using a third-party cartridge. So when one cart runs dry, you have to refill it or throw away your investment in the remaining three cartridges and the printer itself.

Sometimes, it’s a grab bag:

You can’t run your Ios apps without Apple hardware;

you can’t run your Apple music, books and movies on anything except an Ios app;

your iPhone uses parts pairing – DRM handshakes between replacement parts and the main system – so you can’t use third-party parts to fix it; and

every OEM iPhone part has a microscopic Apple logo engraved on it, so Apple can demand that the US Customs and Border Service seize any shipment of refurb Iphone parts as trademark violations.

Think Different, amirite?

Getting you locked in completes phase one of the enshittification cycle and signals the start of phase two: making things worse for you to make things better for business customers.

For example, a platform might poison its search results, like Google selling more and more of its results pages to ads that are identified with lighter and lighter tinier and tinier type.

Or Amazon selling off search results and calling it an “ad” business. They make $38b/year on this scam. The first result for your search is, on average, 29% more expensive than the best match for your search. The first row is 25% more expensive than the best match. On average, the best match for your search is likely to be found seventeen places down on the results page.

Other platforms sell off your feed, like Facebook, which started off showing you the things you asked to see, but now the quantum of content from the people you follow has dwindled to a homeopathic residue, leaving a void that Facebook fills with things that people pay to show you: boosted posts from publishers you haven’t subscribed to, and, of course, ads.

Now at this point you might be thinking ‘sure, if you’re not paying for the product, you’re the product.'

Bullshit!

Bull.

Shit.

The people who buy those Google ads? They pay more every year for worse ad-targeting and more ad-fraud

Those publishers paying to nonconsensually cram their content into your Facebook feed? They have to do that because FB suppresses their ability to reach the people who actually subscribed to them

The Amazon sellers with the best match for your query have to outbid everyone else just to show up on the first page of results. It costs so much to sell on Amazon that between 45-51% of every dollar an independent seller brings in has to be kicked up to Don Bezos and the Amazon crime family. Those sellers don’t have the kind of margins that let them pay 51% They have to raise prices in order to avoid losing money on every sale.

"But wait!" I hear you say!

[Come on, say it!]

"But wait! Things on Amazon aren’t more expensive that things at Target, or Walmart, or at a mom and pop store, or direct from the manufacturer.

"How can sellers be raising prices on Amazon if the price at Amazon is the same as at is everywhere else?"

[Any guesses?!]

That’s right, they charge more everywhere. They have to. Amazon binds its sellers to a policy called “most favored nation status,” which says they can’t charge more on Amazon than they charge elsewhere, including direct from their own factory store.

So every seller that wants to sell on Amazon has to raise their prices everywhere else.

Now, these sellers are Amazon’s best customers. They’re paying for the product, and they’re still getting screwed.

Paying for the product doesn’t fill your vapid boss’s shriveled heart with so much joy that he decides to stop trying to think of ways to fuck you over.

Look at Apple. Remember when Apple offered every Ios user a one-click opt out for app-based surveillance? And 96% of users clicked that box?

(The other four percent were either drunk or Facebook employees or drunk Facebook employees.)

That cost Facebook at least ten billion dollars per year in lost surveillance revenue?

I mean, you love to see it.

But did you know that at the same time Apple started spying on Ios users in the same way that Facebook had been, for surveillance data to use to target users for its competing advertising product?

Your Iphone isn’t an ad-supported gimme. You paid a thousand fucking dollars for that distraction rectangle in your pocket, and you’re still the product. What’s more, Apple has rigged Ios so that you can’t mod the OS to block its spying.

If you’re not not paying for the product, you’re the product, and if you are paying for the product, you’re still the product.

Just ask the farmers who are expected to swap parts into their own busted half-million dollar, mission-critical tractors, but can’t actually use those parts until a technician charges them $200 to drive out to the farm and type a parts pairing unlock code into their console.

John Deere’s not giving away tractors. Give John Deere a half mil for a tractor and you will be the product.

Please, my brothers and sisters in Christ. Please! Stop saying ‘if you’re not paying for the product, you’re the product.’

OK, OK, so that’s phase two of enshittification.

Phase one: be good to users while locking them in.

Phase two: screw the users a little to you can good to business customers while locking them in.

Phase three: screw everybody and take all the value for yourself. Leave behind the absolute bare minimum of utility so that everyone stays locked into your pile of shit.

Enshittification: a tragedy in three acts.

That’s what enshittification looks like from the outside, but what’s going on inside the company? What is the pathological mechanism? What sci-fi entropy ray converts the excellent and useful service into a pile of shit?

That mechanism is called twiddling. Twiddling is when someone alters the back end of a service to change how its business operates, changing prices, costs, search ranking, recommendation criteria and other foundational aspects of the system.

Digital platforms are a twiddler’s utopia. A grocer would need an army of teenagers with pricing guns on rollerblades to reprice everything in the building when someone arrives who’s extra hungry.

Whereas the McDonald’s Investments portfolio company Plexure advertises that it can use surveillance data to predict when an app user has just gotten paid so the seller can tack an extra couple bucks onto the price of their breakfast sandwich.

And of course, as the prophet William Gibson warned us, ‘cyberspace is everting.' With digital shelf tags, grocers can change prices whenever they feel like, like the grocers in Norway, whose e-ink shelf tags change the prices 2,000 times per day.

Every Uber driver is offered a different wage for every job. If a driver has been picky lately, the job pays more. But if the driver has been desperate enough to grab every ride the app offers, the pay goes down, and down, and down.

The law professor Veena Dubal calls this ‘algorithmic wage discrimination.' It’s a prime example of twiddling.

Every youtuber knows what it’s like to be twiddled. You work for weeks or months, spend thousands of dollars to make a video, then the algorithm decides that no one – not your own subscribers, not searchers who type in the exact name of your video – will see it.

Why? Who knows? The algorithm’s rules are not public.

Because content moderation is the last redoubt of security through obscurit: they can’t tell you what the como algorithm is downranking because then you’d cheat.

Youtube is the kind of shitty boss who docks every paycheck for all the rules you’ve broken, but won’t tell you what those rules were, lest you figure out how to break those rules next time without your boss catching you.

Twiddling can also work in some users’ favor, of course. Sometimes platforms twiddle to make things better for end users or business customers.

For example, Emily Baker-White from Forbes revealed the existence of a back-end feature that Tiktok’s management can access they call the “heating tool.”

When a manager applies the heating toll to a performer’s account, that performer’s videos are thrust into the feeds of millions of users, without regard to whether the recommendation algorithm predicts they will enjoy that video.

Why would they do this? Well, here’s an analogy from my boyhood I used to go to this traveling fair that would come to Toronto at the end of every summer, the Canadian National Exhibition. If you’ve been to a fair like the Ex, you know that you can always spot some guy lugging around a comedically huge teddy bear.

Nominally, you win that teddy bear by throwing five balls in a peach-basket, but to a first approximation, no one has ever gotten five balls to stay in that peach-basket.

That guy “won” the teddy bear when a carny on the midway singled him out and said, "fella, I like your face. Tell you what I’m gonna do: You get just one ball in the basket and I’ll give you this keychain, and if you amass two keychains, I’ll let you trade them in for one of these galactic-scale teddy-bears."

That’s how the guy got his teddy bear, which he now has to drag up and down the midway for the rest of the day.

Why the hell did that carny give away the teddy bear? Because it turns the guy into a walking billboard for the midway games. If that dopey-looking Judas Goat can get five balls into a peach basket, then so can you.

Except you can’t.

Tiktok’s heating tool is a way to give away tactical giant teddy bears. When someone in the TikTok brain trust decides they need more sports bros on the platform, they pick one bro out at random and make him king for the day, heating the shit out of his account.

That guy gets a bazillion views and he starts running around on all the sports bro forums trumpeting his success: *I am the Louis Pasteur of sports bro influencers!"

The other sports bros pile in and start retooling to make content that conforms to the idiosyncratic Tiktok format. When they fail to get giant teddy bears of their own, they assume that it’s because they’re doing Tiktok wrong, because they don’t know about the heating tool.

But then comes the day when the TikTok Star Chamber decides they need to lure in more astrologers, so they take the heat off that one lucky sports bro, and start heating up some lucky astrologer.

Giant teddy bears are all over the place: those Uber drivers who were boasting to the NYT ten years ago about earning $50/hour? The Substackers who were rolling in dough? Joe Rogan and his hundred million dollar Spotify payout? Those people are all the proud owners of giant teddy bears, and they’re a steal.

Because every dollar they get from the platform turns into five dollars worth of free labor from suckers who think they just internetting wrong.

Giant teddy bears are just one way of twiddling. Platforms can play games with every part of their business logic, in highly automated ways, that allows them to quickly and efficiently siphon value from end users to business customers and back again, hiding the pea in a shell game conducted at machine speeds, until they’ve got everyone so turned around that they take all the value for themselves.

That’s the how: How the platforms do the trick where they are good to users, then lock users in, then maltreat users to be good to business customers, then lock in those business customers, then take all the value for themselves.

So now we know what is happening, and how it is happening, all that’s left is why it’s happening.

Now, on the one hand, the why is pretty obvious. The less value that end-users and business customers capture, the more value there is left to divide up among the shareholders and the executives.

That’s why, but it doesn’t tell you why now. Companies could have done this shit at any time in the past 20 years, but they didn’t. Or at least, the successful ones didn’t. The ones that turned themselves into piles of shit got treated like piles of shit. We avoided them and they died.

Remember Myspace? Yahoo Search? Livejournal? Sure, they’re still serving some kind of AI slop or programmatic ad junk if you hit those domains, but they’re gone.

And there’s the clue: It used to be that if you enshittified your product, bad things happened to your company. Now, there are no consequences for enshittification, so everyone’s doing it.

Let’s break that down: What stops a company from enshittifying?

There are four forces that discipline tech companies. The first one is, obviously, competition.

If your customers find it easy to leave, then you have to worry about them leaving

Many factors can contribute to how hard or easy it is to depart a platform, like the network effects that Facebook has going for it. But the most important factor is whether there is anywhere to go.

Back in 2012, Facebook bought Insta for a billion dollars. That may seem like chump-change in these days of eleven-digit Big Tech acquisitions, but that was a big sum in those innocent days, and it was an especially big sum to pay for Insta. The company only had 13 employees, and a mere 25 million registered users.

But what mattered to Zuckerberg wasn’t how many users Insta had, it was where those users came from.

[Does anyone know where those Insta users came from?]

That’s right, they left Facebook and joined Insta. They were sick of FB, even though they liked the people there, they hated creepy Zuck, they hated the platform, so they left and they didn’t come back.

So Zuck spent a cool billion to recapture them, A fact he put in writing in a midnight email to CFO David Ebersman, explaining that he was paying over the odds for Insta because his users hated him, and loved Insta. So even if they quit Facebook (the platform), they would still be captured Facebook (the company).

Now, on paper, Zuck’s Instagram acquisition is illegal, but normally, that would be hard to stop, because you’d have to prove that he bought Insta with the intention of curtailing competition.

But in this case, Zuck tripped over his own dick: he put it in writing.

But Obama’s DoJ and FTC just let that one slide, following the pro-monopoly policies of Reagan, Bush I, Clinton and Bush II, and setting an example that Trump would follow, greenlighting gigamergers like the catastrophic, incestuous Warner-Discovery marriage.

Indeed, for 40 years, starting with Carter, and accelerating through Reagan, the US has encouraged monopoly formation, as an official policy, on the grounds that monopolies are “efficient.”

If everyone is using Google Search, that’s something we should celebrate. It means they’ve got the very best search and wouldn’t it be perverse to spend public funds to punish them for making the best product?

But as we all know, Google didn’t maintain search dominance by being best. They did it by paying bribes. More than 20 billion per year to Apple alone to be the default Ios search, plus billions more to Samsung, Mozilla, and anyone else making a product or service with a search-box on it, ensuring that you never stumble on a search engine that’s better than theirs.

Which, in turn, ensured that no one smart invested big in rival search engines, even if they were visibly, obviously superior. Why bother making something better if Google’s buying up all the market oxygen before it can kindle your product to life?

Facebook, Google, Microsoft, Amazon – they’re not “making things” companies, they’re “buying things” companies, taking advantage of official tolerance for anticompetitive acquisitions, predatory pricing, market distorting exclusivity deals and other acts specifically prohibited by existing antitrust law.

Their goal is to become too big to fail, because that makes them too big to jail, and that means they can be too big to care.

Which is why Google Search is a pile of shit and everything on Amazon is dropshipped garbage that instantly disintegrates in a cloud of offgassed volatile organic compounds when you open the box.

Once companies no longer fear losing your business to a competitor, it’s much easier for them to treat you badly, because what’re you gonna do?

Remember Lily Tomlin as Ernestine the AT&T operator in those old SNL sketches? “We don’t care. We don’t have to. We’re the phone company.”

Competition is the first force that serves to discipline companies and the enshittificatory impulses of their leadership, and we just stopped enforcing competition law.

It takes a special kind of smooth-brained asshole – that is, an establishment economist – to insist that the collapse of every industry from eyeglasses to vitamin C into a cartel of five or fewer companies has nothing to do with policies that officially encouraged monopolization.

It’s like we used to put down rat poison and we didn’t have a rat problem. Then these dickheads convinced us that rats were good for us and we stopped putting down rat poison, and now rats are gnawing our faces off and they’re all running around saying, "Who’s to say where all these rats came from? Maybe it was that we stopped putting down poison, but maybe it’s just the Time of the Rats. The Great Forces of History bearing down on this moment to multiply rats beyond all measure!"

Antitrust didn’t slip down that staircase and fall spine-first on that stiletto: they stabbed it in the back and then they pushed it.

And when they killed antitrust, they also killed regulation, the second force that disciplines companies. Regulation is possible, but only when the regulator is more powerful than the regulated entities. When a company is bigger than the government, it gets damned hard to credibly threaten to punish that company, no matter what its sins.

That’s what protected IBM for all those years when it had its boot on the throat of the American tech sector. Do you know, the DOJ fought to break up IBM in the courts from 1970-1982, and that every year, for 12 consecutive years, IBM spent more on lawyers to fight the USG than the DOJ Antitrust Division spent on all the lawyers fighting every antitrust case in the entire USA?

IBM outspent Uncle Sam for 12 years. People called it “Antitrust’s Vietnam.” All that money paid off, because by 1982, the president was Ronald Reagan, a man whose official policy was that monopolies were “efficient." So he dropped the case, and Big Blue wriggled off the hook.

It’s hard to regulate a monopolist, and it’s hard to regulate a cartel. When a sector is composed of hundreds of competing companies, they compete. They genuinely fight with one another, trying to poach each others’ customers and workers. They are at each others’ throats.

It’s hard enough for a couple hundred executives to agree on anything. But when they’re legitimately competing with one another, really obsessing about how to eat each others’ lunches, they can’t agree on anything.

The instant one of them goes to their regulator with some bullshit story, about how it’s impossible to have a decent search engine without fine-grained commercial surveillance; or how it’s impossible to have a secure and easy to use mobile device without a total veto over which software can run on it; or how it’s impossible to administer an ISP’s network unless you can slow down connections to servers whose owners aren’t paying bribes for “premium carriage"; there’s some *other company saying, “That’s bullshit”

“We’ve managed it! Here’s our server logs, our quarterly financials and our customer testimonials to prove it.”

100 companies are a rabble, they're a mob. They can’t agree on a lobbying position. They’re too busy eating each others’ lunch to agree on how to cater a meeting to discuss it.

But let those hundred companies merge to monopoly, absorb one another in an incestuous orgy, turn into five giant companies, so inbred they’ve got a corporate Habsburg jaw, and they become a cartel.

It’s easy for a cartel to agree on what bullshit they’re all going to feed their regulator, and to mobilize some of the excess billions they’ve reaped through consolidation, which freed them from “wasteful competition," sp they can capture their regulators completely.

You know, Congress used to pass federal consumer privacy laws? Not anymore.

The last time Congress managed to pass a federal consumer privacy law was in 1988: The Video Privacy Protection Act. That’s a law that bans video-store clerks from telling newspapers what VHS cassettes you take home. In other words, it regulates three things that have effectively ceased to exist.

The threat of having your video rental history out there in the public eye was not the last or most urgent threat the American public faced, and yet, Congress is deadlocked on passing a privacy law.

Tech companies’ regulatory capture involves a risible and transparent gambit, that is so stupid, it’s an insult to all the good hardworking risible transparent ruses out there.

Namely, they claim that when they violate your consumer, privacy or labor rights, It’s not a crime, because they do it with an app.

Algorithmic wage discrimination isn’t illegal wage theft: we do it with an app.

Spying on you from asshole to appetite isn’t a privacy violation: we do it with an app.

And Amazon’s scam search tool that tricks you into paying 29% more than the best match for your query? Not a ripoff. We do it with an app.

Once we killed competition – stopped putting down rat poison – we got cartels – the rats ate our faces. And the cartels captured their regulators – the rats bought out the poison factory and shut it down.

So companies aren’t constrained by competition or regulation.

But you know what? This is tech, and tech is different.IIt’s different because it’s flexible. Because our computers are Turing-complete universal von Neumann machines. That means that any enshittificatory alteration to a program can be disenshittified with another program.

Every time HP jacks up the price of ink , they invite a competitor to market a refill kit or a compatible cartridge.

When Tesla installs code that says you have to pay an extra monthly fee to use your whole battery, they invite a modder to start selling a kit to jailbreak that battery and charge it all the way up.

Lemme take you through a little example of how that works: Imagine this is a product design meeting for our company’s website, and the guy leading the meeting says “Dudes, you know how our KPI is topline ad-revenue? Well, I’ve calculated that if we make the ads just 20% more invasive and obnoxious, we’ll boost ad rev by 2%”

This is a good pitch. Hit that KPI and everyone gets a fat bonus. We can all take our families on a luxury ski vacation in Switzerland.

But here’s the thing: someone’s gonna stick their arm up – someone who doesn’t give a shit about user well-being, and that person is gonna say, “I love how you think, Elon. But has it occurred to you that if we make the ads 20% more obnoxious, then 40% of our users will go to a search engine and type 'How do I block ads?'"

I mean, what a nightmare! Because once a user does that, the revenue from that user doesn’t rise to 102%. It doesn’t stay at 100% It falls to zero, forever.

[Any guesses why?]

Because no user ever went back to the search engine and typed, 'How do I start seeing ads again?'

Once the user jailbreaks their phone or discovers third party ink, or develops a relationship with an independent Tesla mechanic who’ll unlock all the DLC in their car, that user is gone, forever.

Interoperability – that latent property bequeathed to us courtesy of Herrs Turing and Von Neumann and their infinitely flexible, universal machines – that is a serious check on enshittification.

The fact that Congress hasn’t passed a privacy law since 1988 Is countered, at least in part, by the fact that the majority of web users are now running ad-blockers, which are also tracker-blockers.

But no one’s ever installed a tracker-blocker for an app. Because reverse engineering an app puts in you jeopardy of criminal and civil prosecution under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, with penalties of a 5-year prison sentence and a $500k fine for a first offense.

And violating its terms of service puts you in jeopardy under the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act of 1986, which is the law that Ronald Reagan signed in a panic after watching Wargames (seriously!).

Helping other users violate the terms of service can get you hit with a lawsuit for tortious interference with contract. And then there’s trademark, copyright and patent.

All that nonsense we call “IP,” but which Jay Freeman of Cydia calls “Felony Contempt of Business Model."

So if we’re still at that product planning meeting and now it’s time to talk about our app, the guy leading the meeting says, “OK, so we’ll make the ads in the app 20% more obnoxious to pull a 2% increase in topline ad rev?”

And that person who objected to making the website 20% worse? Their hand goes back up. Only this time they say “Why don’t we make the ads 100% more invasive and get a 10% increase in ad rev?"

Because it doesn't matter if a user goes to a search engine and types, “How do I block ads in an app." The answer is: you can't. So YOLO, enshittify away.

“IP” is just a euphemism for “any law that lets me reach outside my company’s walls to exert coercive control over my critics, competitors and customers,” and “app” is just a euphemism for “A web page skinned with the right IP so that protecting your privacy while you use it is a felony.”

Interop used to keep companies from enshittifying. If a company made its client suck, someone would roll out an alternative client, if they ripped a feature out and wanted to sell it back to you as a monthly subscription, someone would make a compatible plugin that restored it for a one-time fee, or for free.

To help people flee Myspace, FB gave them bots that you’d load with your login credentials. It would scrape your waiting Myspace messages and put ‘em in your FB inbox, and login to Myspace and paste your replies into your Myspace outbox. So you didn’t have to choose between the people you loved on Myspace, and Facebook, which launched with a promise never to spy on you. Remember that?!

Thanks to the metastasis of IP, all that is off the table today. Apple owes its very existence to iWork Suite, whose Pages, Numbers and Keynote are file-compatible with Microsoft’s Word, Excel and Powerpoint. But make an IOS runtime that’ll play back the files you bought from Apple’s stores on other platforms, and they’ll nuke you til you glow.

FB wouldn’t have had a hope of breaking Myspace’s grip on social media without that scrape, but scrape FB today in support of an alternative client and their lawyers will bomb you til the rubble bounces.

Google scraped every website in the world to create its search index. Try and scrape Google and they’ll have your head on a pike.

When they did it, it was progress. When you do it to them, that’s piracy. Every pirate wants to be an admiral.

Because this handful of companies has so thoroughly captured their regulators, they can wield the power of the state against you when you try to break their grip on power, even as their own flagrant violations of our rights go unpunished. Because they do them with an app.

Tech lost its fear of competitin it neutralized the threat from regulators, and then put them in harness to attack new startups that might do unto them as they did unto the companies that came before them.

But even so, there was a force that kept our bosses in check That force was us. Tech workers.

Tech workers have historically been in short supply, which gave us power, and our bosses knew it.

To get us to work crazy hours, they came up with a trick. They appealed to our love of technology, and told us that we were heroes of a digital revolution, who would “organize the world’s information and make it useful,” who would “bring the world closer together.”

They brought in expert set-dressers to turn our workplaces into whimsical campuses with free laundry, gourmet cafeterias, massages, and kombucha, and a surgeon on hand to freeze our eggs so that we could work through our fertile years.

They convinced us that we were being pampered, rather than being worked like government mules.

This trick has a name. Fobazi Ettarh, the librarian-theorist, calls it “vocational awe, and Elon Musk calls it being “extremely hardcore.”

This worked very well. Boy did we put in some long-ass hours!

But for our bosses, this trick failed badly. Because if you miss your mother’s funeral and to hit a deadline, and then your boss orders you to enshittify that product, you are gonna experience a profound moral injury, which you are absolutely gonna make your boss share.

Because what are they gonna do? Fire you? They can’t hire someone else to do your job, and you can get a job that’s even better at the shop across the street.

So workers held the line when competition, regulation and interop failed.

But eventually, supply caught up with demand. Tech laid off 260,000 of us last year, and another 100,000 in the first half of this year.

You can’t tell your bosses to go fuck themselves, because they’ll fire your ass and give your job to someone who’ll be only too happy to enshittify that product you built.

That’s why this is all happening right now. Our bosses aren’t different. They didn’t catch a mind-virus that turned them into greedy assholes who don’t care about our users’ wellbeing or the quality of our products.

As far as our bosses have always been concerned, the point of the business was to charge the most, and deliver the least, while sharing as little as possible with suppliers, workers, users and customers. They’re not running charities.

Since day one, our bosses have shown up for work and yanked as hard as they can on the big ENSHITTIFICATION lever behind their desks, only that lever didn’t move much. It was all gummed up by competition, regulation, interop and workers.

As those sources of friction melted away, the enshittification lever started moving very freely.

Which sucks, I know. But think about this for a sec: our bosses, despite being wildly imperfect vessels capable of rationalizing endless greed and cheating, nevertheless oversaw a series of actually great products and services.

Not because they used to be better people, but because they used to be subjected to discipline.

So it follows that if we want to end the enshittocene, dismantle the enshitternet, and build a new, good internet that our bosses can’t wreck, we need to make sure that these constraints are durably installed on that internet, wound around its very roots and nerves. And we have to stand guard over it so that it can’t be dismantled again.

A new, good internet is one that has the positive aspects of the old, good internet: an ethic of technological self-determination, where users of technology (and hackers, tinkerers, startups and others serving as their proxies) can reconfigure and mod the technology they use, so that it does what they need it to do, and so that it can’t be used against them.

But the new, good internet will fix the defects of the old, good internet, the part that made it hard to use for anyone who wasn’t us. And hell yeah we can do that. Tech bosses swear that it’s impossible, that you can’t have a conversation friend without sharing it with Zuck; or search the web without letting Google scrape you down to the viscera; or have a phone that works reliably without giving Apple a veto over the software you install.

They claim that it’s a nonsense to even ponder this kind of thing. It’s like making water that’s not wet. But that’s bullshit. We can have nice things. We can build for the people we love, and give them a place that’s worth of their time and attention.

To do that, we have to install constraints.

The first constraint, remember, is competition. We’re living through a epochal shift in competition policy. After 40 years with antitrust enforcement in an induced coma, a wave of antitrust vigor has swept through governments all over the world. Regulators are stepping in to ban monopolistic practices, open up walled gardens, block anticompetitive mergers, and even unwind corrupt mergers that were undertaken on false pretenses.

Normally this is the place in the speech where I’d list out all the amazing things that have happened over the past four years. The enforcement actions that blocked companies from becoming too big to care, and that scared companies away from even trying.

Like Wiz, which just noped out of the largest acquisition offer in history, turning down Google’s $23b cashout, and deciding to, you know, just be a fucking business that makes money by producing a product that people want and selling it at a competitive price.

Normally, I’d be listing out FTC rulemakings that banned noncompetes nationwid. Or the new merger guidelines the FTC and DOJ cooked up, which – among other things – establish that the agencies should be considering whether a merger will negatively impact privacy.

I had a whole section of this stuff in my notes, a real victory lap, but I deleted it all this week.

[Can anyone guess why?]

That’s right! This week, Judge Amit Mehta, ruling for the DC Circuit of these United States of America, In the docket 20-3010 a case known as United States v. Google LLC, found that “Google is a monopolist, and it has acted as one to maintain its monopoly," and ordered Google and the DOJ to propose a schedule for a remedy, like breaking the company up.

So yeah, that was pretty fucking epic.

Now, this antitrust stuff is pretty esoteric, and I won’t gatekeep you or shame you if you wanna keep a little distance on this subject. Nearly everyone is an antitrust normie, and that's OK. But if you’re a normie, you’re probably only catching little bits and pieces of the narrative, and let me tell you, the monopolists know it and they are flooding the zone.

The Wall Street Journal has published over 100 editorials condemning FTC Chair Lina Khan, saying she’s an ineffectual do-nothing, wasting public funds chasing doomed, quixotic adventures against poor, innocent businesses accomplishing nothing

[Does anyone out there know who owns the Wall Street Journal?]

That’s right, it’s Rupert Murdoch. Do you really think Rupert Murdoch pays his editorial board to write one hundred editorials about someone who’s not getting anything done?

The reality is that in the USA, in the UK, in the EU, in Australia, in Canada, in Japan, in South Korea, even in China, we are seeing more antitrust action over the past four years than over the preceding forty years.

Remember, competition law is actually pretty robust. The problem isn’t the law, It’s the enforcement priorities. Reagan put antitrust in mothballs 40 years ago, but that elegant weapon from a more civilized age is now back in the hands of people who know how to use it, and they’re swinging for the fences.

Next up: regulation.

As the seemingly inescapable power of the tech giants is revealed for the sham it always was, governments and regulators are finally gonna kill the “one weird trick” of violating the law, and saying “It doesn’t count, we did it with an app.”

Like in the EU, they’re rolling out the Digital Markets Act this year. That’s a law requiring dominant platforms to stand up APIs so that third parties can offer interoperable services.

So a co-op, a nonprofit, a hobbyist, a startup, or a local government agency wil eventuallyl be able to offer, say, a social media server that can interconnect with one of the dominant social media silos, and users who switch to that new platform will be able to continue to exchange messages with the users they follow and groups they belong to, so the switching costs will fall to damned near zero.

That’s a very cool rule, but what’s even cooler is how it’s gonna be enforced. Previous EU tech rules were “regulations” as in the GDPR – the General Data Privacy Regulation. EU regs need to be “transposed” into laws in each of the 27 EU member states, so they become national laws that get enforced by national courts.

For Big Tech, that means all previous tech regulations are enforced in Ireland, because Ireland is a tax haven, and all the tech companies fly Irish flags of convenience.

Here’s the thing: every tax haven is also a crime haven. After all, if Google can pretend it’s Irish this week, it can pretend to be Cypriot, or Maltese, or Luxembougeious next week. So Ireland has to keep these footloose criminal enterprises happy, or they’ll up sticks and go somewhere else.

This is why the GDPR is such a goddamned joke in practice. Big tech wipes its ass with the GDPR, and the only way to punish them starts with Ireland’s privacy commissioner, who barely bothers to get out of bed. This is an agency that spends most of its time watching cartoons on TV in its pajamas and eating breakfast cereal. So all of the big GDPR cases go to Ireland and they die there.

This is hardly a secret. The European Commission knows it’s going on. So with the DMA, the Commission has changed things up: The DMA is an “Act,” not a “Regulation.” Meaning it gets enforced in the EU’s federal courts, bypassing the national courts in crime-havens like Ireland.

In other words, the “we violate privacy law, but we do it with an app” gambit that worked on Ireland’s toothless privacy watchdog is now a dead letter, because EU federal judges have no reason to swallow that obvious bullshit.

Here in the US, the dam is breaking on federal consumer privacy law – at last!

Remember, our last privacy law was passed in 1988 to protect the sanctity of VHS rental history. It's been a minute.

And the thing is, there's a lot of people who are angry about stuff that has some nexus with America's piss-poor privacy landscape. Worried that Facebook turned grampy into a Qanon? That Insta made your teen anorexic? That TikTok is brainwashing millennials into quoting Osama Bin Laden? Or that cops are rolling up the identities of everyone at a Black Lives Matter protest or the Jan 6 riots by getting location data from Google? Or that Red State Attorneys General are tracking teen girls to out-of-state abortion clinics? Or that Black people are being discriminated against by online lending or hiring platforms? Or that someone is making AI deepfake porn of you?

A federal privacy law with a private right of action – which means that individuals can sue companies that violate their privacy – would go a long way to rectifying all of these problems

There's a pretty big coalition for that kind of privacy law! Which is why we have seen a procession of imperfect (but steadily improving) privacy laws working their way through Congress.

If you sign up for EFF’s mailing list at eff.org we’ll send you an email when these come up, so you can call your Congressjerk or Senator and talk to them about it. Or better yet, make an appointment to drop by their offices when they’re in their districts, and explain to them that you’re not just a registered voter from their district, you’re the kind of elite tech person who goes to Defcon, and then explain the bill to them. That stuff makes a difference.

What about self-help? How are we doing on making interoperability legal again, so hackers can just fix shit without waiting for Congress or a federal agency to act?

All the action here these day is in the state Right to Repair fight. We’re getting state R2R bills, like the one that passed this year in Oregon that bans parts pairing, where DRM is used to keep a device from using a new part until it gets an authorized technician’s unlock code.

These bills are pushed by a fantastic group of organizations called the Repair Coalition, at Repair.org, and they’ll email you when one of these laws is going through your statehouse, so you can meet with your state reps and explain to the JV squad the same thing you told your federal reps.

Repair.org’s prime mover is Ifixit, who are genuine heroes of the repair revolution, and Ifixit’s founder, Kyle Wiens, is here at the con. When you see him, you can shake his hand and tell him thanks, and that’ll be even better if you tell him that you’ve signed up to get alerts at repair.org!

Now, on to the final way that we reverse enhittification and build that new, good internet: you, the tech labor force.

For years, your bosses tricked you into thinking you were founders in waiting, temporarily embarrassed entrepreneurs who were only momentarily drawing a salary.

You certainly weren’t workers. Your power came from your intrinsic virtue, not like those lazy slobs in unions who have to get their power through that kumbaya solidarity nonsense.

It was a trick. You were scammed. The power you had came from scarcity, and so when the scarcity ended, when the industry started ringing up six-figure annual layoffs, your power went away with it.

The only durable source of power for tech workers is as workers, in a union.

Think about Amazon. Warehouse workers have to piss in bottles and have the highest rate of on-the-job maimings of any competing business. Whereas Amazon coders get to show up for work with facial piercings, green mohawks, and black t-shirts that say things their bosses don’t understand. They can piss whenever they want!

That’s not because Jeff Bezos or Andy Jassy loves you guys. It’s because they’re scared you’ll quit and they don’t know how to replace you.

Time for the second obligatory William Gibson quote: “The future is here, it’s just not evenly distributed.” You know who’s living in the future?. Those Amazon blue-collar workers. They are the bleeding edge.

Drivers whose eyeballs are monitored by AI cameras that do digital phrenology on their faces to figure out whether to dock their pay, warehouse workers whose bodies are ruined in just months.

As tech bosses beef up that reserve army of unemployed, skilled tech workers, then those tech workers – you all – will arrive at the same future as them.

Look, I know that you’ve spent your careers explaining in words so small your boss could understand them that you refuse to enshittify the company’s products, and I thank you for your service.

But if you want to go on fighting for the user, you need power that’s more durable than scarcity. You need a union. Wanna learn how? Check out the Tech Workers Coalition and Tech Solidarity, and get organized.

Enshittification didn’t arise because our bosses changed. They were always that guy.

They were always yankin’ on that enshittification lever in the C-suite.

What changed was the environment, everything that kept that switch from moving.

And that’s good news, in a bankshot way, because it means we can make good services out of imperfect people. As a wildly imperfect person myself, I find this heartening.

The new good internet is in our grasp: an internet that has the technological self-determination of the old, good internet, and the greased-skids simplicity of Web 2.0 that let all our normie friends get in on the fun.

Tech bosses want you to think that good UX and enshittification can’t ever be separated. That’s such a self-serving proposition you can spot it from orbit. We know it, 'cause we built the old good internet, and we’ve been fighting a rear-guard action to preserve it for the past two decades.

It’s time to stop playing defense. It's time to go on the offensive. To restore competition, regulation, interop and tech worker power so that we can create the new, good internet we’ll need to fight fascism, the climate emergency, and genocide.

To build a digital nervous system for a 21st century in which our children can thrive and prosper.

Community voting for SXSW is live! If you wanna hear RIDA QADRI and me talk about how GIG WORKERS can DISENSHITTIFY their jobs with INTEROPERABILITY, VOTE FOR THIS ONE!

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/2024/08/17/hack-the-planet/#how-about-a-nice-game-of-chess

Image: https://twitter.com/igama/status/1822347578094043435/ (cropped)

@[email protected] (cropped)

https://mamot.fr/@[email protected]/112963252835869648

CC BY 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed.pt

#pluralistic #defcon #defcon 32 #hackers #enshittification #speeches #transcripts #disenshittify or die #Youtube

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starfinss · 10 months ago

Text

ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ — ʀᴏʀᴏɴᴏᴀ ᴢᴏʀᴏ

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: One Piece

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Roronoa Zoro + Reader

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: NSFW

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 7,375

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: He’d gotten jealous when some random idiot hit on you, and you realized you didn’t mind that jealousy. The frenzied make out session in that tiny closet was just the result of that realization.

You hadn’t spoken a word about the situation since that day. That was two weeks ago.

And then it happened again.

Storms were the worst.

You used to love them, before you became a pirate. You found contentment in listening to them; the musical sound of rain against the window, thunder growling overhead, lulling you to sleep. Peaceful. That’s what you thought of them. There was a certain kind of incomparable coziness that came with laying tucked into bed while a storm raged outside. You were inside, warm and dry, in your own little bubble of warmth.

But that was then, and this was now.

You knew you were in trouble when the sky had been blood red that morning, indicating the coming storm. It was just like the old mariner’s rhyme said, though thanks to Nami, you now knew the science behind it. Something about how the red color came from high water content in the atmosphere. You couldn’t remember the exact words she’d said.

Science or no, storms spelled trouble for sailors of any kind, even the kind that engaged in certain illegal activities such as piracy. Life was easy when the water was calm and the weather cooperated. Storms were a complication, and this one was no exception.

The low visibility, torrential rain, and rough water forced the Merry to dock at a tiny island town you didn’t even catch the name of, with you and the other Straw Hats left to find a motel or some other form of lodgings, since the rocking of the ship was making it hard to even stand up straight, let alone fall asleep.

And that led you to now. Drenched and miserable, and standing in the shabby lobby of the town’s motel.

“A room for six, please.”

The clerk looked at your captain for a moment before speaking.

“For six, sir?”

Luffy whirled around, counting the group out on his fingers before facing the clerk again.

“Yep,” he said, and even unable to see his face, you knew he was grinning. “Six. One bed should do.”

Nami looked at Luffy in askance, clearing her throat.

“Sorry about him, he’s an idiot,” she said, “how about six individual rooms?”

“A waste of Berry,” Luffy countered, waving off the navigator, “just give us the biggest bed you have.”

Nami sighed, running her hand through her hair, which was plastered to her forehead with rainwater. Your own was no different.

“Luffy, there’s absolutely no way we can all fit in one bed,” Nami said, then turned to the clerk, “we’ll take six rooms, if you have them available.”

The clerk nodded, clearly pleased with Nami’s much more reasonable request, turning his back to the group to check a clipboard.

“We have five available, miss,” he said, “four with singles, one with a double.”

A hush fell over the crew as you took in the information. You chewed your lip. This was fine. You could just share with Nami. You were both women, so it made sense that way. Plus, you knew she didn’t snore, so you’d get a comfortable night’s sleep. You were just about to say something about this when Luffy beat you to it.

“Who wants to share with me?”

Nami didn’t even look at him. “Not happening.”

Luffy wilted. “Why not?”

“What do you mean ‘why not?’”

Luffy looked offended. “I’m great at sharing beds!”

You figured this was as good a time as any to bring your idea up. “Nami—”

“I’m not having this conversation,” Nami said, more to Luffy than you, “you guys figure it out. I need a shower.”

“Wait, Nami,” you tried again, but she was already turning away, disappearing down the hall after collecting a key from the clerk, leaving you dumbstruck.

Usopp gave you a look of sympathy. You appreciated that, even if it didn’t fix anything.

“Let her go,” he said, “she’s the one who navigated us through the storm to this island. She deserves her own bed.”

He was right, but that didn’t remove you from the awkward spot you were in. Your wet clothing was starting to get cold, and you were beginning to shiver, so it was suddenly less important who you may end up sharing with.

“I’m still okay with sharing,” Luffy said, oblivious to any awkwardness, “anyone?”

You chewed your lip. You didn’t want to share with Luffy, and no offense to Usopp, but you weren’t all that keen about sharing with him either. He was your friend and you cared for him, but being that close in proximity with him would just be awkward. Sanji was similar in that regard.

And that left Zoro.

Zoro was different.

You weren’t entirely sure how to define your relationship with the swordsman. It didn’t start off as smooth sailing, for lack of better terms. From the moment you met, you were constantly bickering. He was just as hard headed as you were, resulting in anything from petty spats to full blown arguments. The unstoppable force meets the immovable object, though it was hard to tell just who was what in that regard.

Then the ‘incident’ happened, and things got even more complicated.

You shook yourself from your thoughts. You were too tired to deal with stupid feelings and the way Zoro’s eyes were boring into the back of your head. He had to be thinking exactly the same thing as you, and the thought of that simultaneously pissed you off and made your stomach twist in confusing knots.

“I’ll take one for the team,” you said, breaking yourself from your thoughts, “one of you shares with me. It’s up to you which one it is. I’m going to take a shower.”

Without another word, you grabbed the key to the room with the double from the clerk, stalking off down the hall.

You jammed the key into the keyhole, stepping inside the room after you reached the door. It was a small room, a little shabby, but clean enough. The bed was on the left wall, centered beneath a painting of either a whale or some kind of indistinct mythical creature, you were unable to tell. The wooden floor was covered with a well worn striped carpet. The far wall was mostly taken up by a lumpy-looking red sofa, as well as two windows, both rather small and covered by threadbare curtains the color of watered down mud. Everything in the room had a sort of well-used air to it. As you entered, you got rid of your boots, leaving them by the door to dry out.

All you’d brought along was yourself and a small rucksack with a nightdress you’d grabbed from your things, as well as a fresh change of clothing for the morning. You were starting to smell like fish and brine, so you made your way to the incredibly cramped bathroom connected to the room, quickly peeling off your clothes.

Your skin was cold as you turned on the water in the standing shower, and you shuddered as you stepped under it. Thank God for the hot water. You half-expected it to be cold, which wasn’t uncommon in backwater motels like this one.

There was a half-full bottle of shampoo, seemingly left over from the last guest, and you hesitated to use it, but you also didn’t want to go to bed smelling like the worst parts of the ocean, so you squeezed some into your palm, lathering it into your hair.

You knew what you were doing. You knew exactly who would follow you into this room. You groaned inwardly, your forehead thudding against the tile wall of the shower. You blamed that stupid jammed door for all of this. You blamed the idiot at the bar who hit on you, and the alcohol, and everything that led up to you being trapped in a closet with Zoro while bounty hunters trashed the building looking for your crew.

Because that stupid series of events were what made you realize you had feelings for Zoro. And now things were weird.

Silence filled by bickering was left empty and awkward, and the way Zoro kept looking at you when he thought you couldn't see didn’t help at all. Neither did the way his hands would linger on your waist if he passed you, just a brush of his fingers, sending electric shocks up your spine. And neither did the way he’d rest a palm on your thigh when you sat beside him at the dinner table. Nami was the first to notice the shift, though it was Sanji who deduced that something had happened between the two of you when you were shut in that closet, not that you’d ever tell him what it was, despite all his prying.

And something had.

You remembered the buzz of alcohol fading as you bickered aimlessly, pressed closer than comfortable as Zoro struggled with the door. You remembered the way you snapped, something about how confusing he was being, and then he was gathering you into his arms, crushing his lips against yours, and how he’d crowded you against the wall behind you soon after. You remembered how his hands felt, drifting down your body to grab at your hips, how his tongue tasted like the whiskey he’d been drinking before, and how just his touch alone made you feel like you were losing your mind.

He’d gotten jealous when some random idiot hit on you, and you realized you didn’t mind that jealousy. The frenzied make out session in that tiny closet was just the result of that realization.

You hadn’t spoken a word about the situation since that day. That was two weeks ago.

And then it happened again.

That was one week ago. You’d been in the kitchen, fixing yourself a sandwich late at night when Zoro appeared with the same idea. It started with you trying to bring up the closet incident, and ended with you caged against the countertop by Zoro’s arms, his mouth hot against yours, your fingers in his hair.

And that wasn’t spoken of, either.

You wanted to talk to him about it. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. You’d tried to approach Zoro about it, only to either chicken out, or end up with even more questions. It was incredibly strange, not only because it was out of character for Zoro to beat around the bush, but also because he seemed just as awkward as you were about it all.

Maybe this would force his hand, you supposed. Or maybe he’d ignore you, though that was unlikely for obvious reasons, and you’d end up spending the night in the same bed as Luffy or something.

Through the thrum of the running water, you heard the door to the main room open, then close again. You couldn’t hear anything else, however, and whoever had just entered didn’t bother to announce their presence, but you were already pretty sure you knew who it was. You took a breath before turning off the shower, wringing out your hair before stepping out.

You toweled yourself dry before finger combing your hair, making sure to get rid of any knots before putting on your underwear and pulling your nightgown on over your head.

You opened the bathroom door, pausing briefly when you saw Zoro sitting on the bed, busy unlacing his boots. He turned to look at you when you entered, clearly intending to only spare a glance, but his gaze lingered, doing a full sweep of your body. You suddenly felt self-conscious, tugging the bottom of your nightgown down further.

You shook it off. This was fine. You had him alone now. He had no way of escaping the discussion that needed to happen.

With a breath, you circled the bed, sitting down with your back to him.

“We need to talk,” you said, “no more avoiding it.”

Zoro said nothing. You heard a soft thud as he tossed his boots away, followed by the rustle of fabric.

“Zoro,” you said, “I’m serious.”

“Can we do this another time?” He said, finally, and you sighed, annoyed.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t feel like it right now.”

You turned around to face him finally. He was standing now, and wearing less clothing than when he’d first entered the room. His shirt was gone, as was the haramaki he usually wore. The latter was laid out on the nightstand alongside his swords, the former clutched in one of his hands. You didn’t blame him for taking it off, it was surely soaked with rainwater, but him being shirtless really wasn’t helpful at the moment. Infuriatingly, you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

“I don’t care,” you said, “you haven't ‘felt like it’ in two fucking weeks. We made out, Zoro. Twice. Plus… everything else. That happened. We can’t pretend it didn’t.”

“We did,” Zoro said, crossing to the bathroom. He left the door open as he wrung his shirt out into the sink, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“There,” he said, “we talked about it. Are we done?”

You rose to your feet, arms crossed. “No. I need to know why. I need to know what that meant.”

Zoro turned to face you, leaning back against the sink basin. “What do you think it means?”

You tossed your hands up in frustration. “I don’t know. You kissed me. Both times.”

He shrugged, infuriatingly nonchalant, his face as impassive as always, though something about him was unmistakably smug. “I did.”

Zoro folded the shirt over the edge of the sink, moving to lean in the doorway. You cleared your throat, taking a step forward as well.

“Is that a problem?” He continued, eyes lifting at the corners in taunting mirth, “it didn’t seem like it at the time.”

“If it’s this easy to acknowledge it, why didn’t you talk about it at all? You got jealous, Zoro.”

Another shrug. Then a scoff, a near laugh, as he pushed off the doorframe to cross over to you.

“I did,” he said, “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you. Don’t tell me you’d rather have been in that closet with that stupid drunk rather than me. Or that you’d rather be with someone else in that kitchen. Or, y’know. Everything else.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Of course not. Why would you even think that?”

A flash of mischief appeared in his dark eyes. “So you liked kissing me?”

You avoided his gaze, displeased with the way he’d taken control of the situation. “That isn’t the point. The point is—”

But you didn’t get to finish. Because before you could even finish being annoyed with him, Zoro was grabbing you by the shoulders, pressing his mouth to yours. It was a chaste, quick kiss, but it still left you speechless and reeling.

“And what about that one?”

You blinked, your thoughts a jumble of nonsense. “Still not the point,” you managed, “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you, Zoro, this isn’t—”

Another kiss, deeper this time. You gasped in surprise, fighting back the urge to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Stupid, infuriating man, doing stupid, confusing things to you. You pressed your hand against his chest, pushing him gently, just to get a word in before he pulled you back in.

“Zoro,” you said, “what do you want?”

“You,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Fuck it. Fuck this, fuck him. This stupid moss-headed moron was messing with you, he had to be, and you could tell from the way he was smiling at you, crooked and devious, like the cat that got the cream. He liked seeing your confusion and uncertainty. He’d just been waiting for this, for you to snap. You stared at him furiously and wild-eyed before it was your turn to pull him in, your mouth colliding with his.

Zoro’s hands rose to cup your cheeks, then shifted down to land on your waist, and you were moving, back colliding with the wall beside the bed. He tasted like whiskey again, which was puzzling since he hadn’t had any to drink that you knew of, though, knowing him, he probably had a flask stowed somewhere.

It was almost a relief to kiss him, like a salve being applied to a burn, and you had to stop yourself from crying out as his hands drifted down to your hips, squeezing, his knee pressing at the close of your thighs. Zoro had been like a cat before, playing with his prey. Now he was going in for the kill.

But two could play at that game.

You slid your hands down from where they’d been folded behind his neck, flattening against his strong chest. Your fingers trailed down the defined muscle, pressing into the dips and curves of his abdominals, finally catching on the waistband of his trousers. Your thumb dipped into the ridge of muscle at his waist, nail scraping gently against the warm skin, and you felt him shudder, breath catching.

His hand caught your wrist, with no particular strength, but enough to warn you of what you were getting yourself into. You responded by taking his lower lip between your teeth, tugging gently before linking your mouths together again. You knew what your were doing, and you knew what would happen if you riled him up more.

That did it. Zoro sighed against your mouth, a slow release of breath that seemed to display his rapidly fraying restraint, especially as you twisted your wrist free of his grip, fingers trailing up his sides, making him shiver. His grip on your hips tightened, the fabric of your nightgown bunching between his fingers, causing the garment to ride up, but you hardly cared, not when his knee was slotting itself between your thighs, pressing flush against your clothed cunt.

The slow, easy grind made you gasp into Zoro’s mouth, hips twitching, but he was holding you down, firm against the wall, still an utterly infuriating tease, even now. You retaliated by palming him through his trousers, slow and deliberate, and he broke the kiss to look at you, breath heavy, gaze heated.

“You sure you wanna do that?” He warned, “you’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe I like getting burned,” you shot back, defiant.

Amusement danced in his dark eyes, his lip catching between his teeth as he fought a smile, and it was then that you noticed his face was flecked with countless freckles, a constellation across his cheeks. Absently, you wanted to kiss each and every one of them.

But the thought was ejected from your mind as he was kissing you again, tongue pressing into your mouth, and your fingers found his hair as he pulled your leg up to rest against his hip. Then his hand was between your thighs, broad palm against your clothed center, fingers pressing against the rapidly dampening fabric, dragging so slowly that it made you crazy, but his opposite hand was still holding you in place, unwavering, even as you squirmed in his hold.

Zoro’s fingers slid to your clit, pressing through the fabric of your panties, making you gasp into his mouth, the sound devolving into a low moan as he pressed again, rubbing in slow, lazy circles. He kissed you deeper, slower still, making you arch into him as his hand tightened its grip on your hip, pushing the fabric of your nightgown up higher, then sliding beneath to touch your bare skin.

Fuck, the feel of his palm, rough and worn and calloused, against your flesh, it felt like perfection, and your body twisted as his fingers pressed against the bend of your waist, his touch like a simmering heat.

“Touch me,” you blurted, muffled by his mouth, and he pulled back to look at you, amused.

“Aren’t I already doing that, doll?”

Your defiance was draining away more and more as the seconds ticked by, especially at the sound of his voice. It was a low, rough sound, husky and heated, and it made suffocating arousal shoot down your spine. It was almost embarrassing just how quickly he’d gotten you like this, only with his hands and stupid, smart mouth.

“You know what I mean, jerk,” you shot back, but he simply chuckled, fingers sliding away from your clit to press at your entrance, pushing the fabric of your panties against your heated skin.

You squirmed, but he held you still, his grip like iron on your body. You felt his breath against your skin, making you shudder, one hand gripping at his wrist, the one between your legs. His mouth brushed against the curve of your shoulder, dragging up the column of your throat, teeth grazing the spot just beneath your jaw, and you almost felt lightheaded.

His fingers pressed against your panties again, aided well by the wetness that was soaking through the fabric, causing your body to jolt in his hold, back arching against the wall when his index finger circled your clit again.

“Zoro,” you gasped, fighting for control, “please.”

“Please?” He rumbled, “‘please’ what?”

Your head fell back against the wall, eyes squeezing closed as he pressed down against your clit. Fuck, how were you already so wet? His mouth skated down your throat to your collarbone, teeth grazing your skin before you felt his tongue dart out, dipping lower, towards the top of your already low-cut nightgown.

“Just take them off,” you blurted, head swimming, “do it properly.”

Instead of doing what you said, he simply pushed the fabric aside, but before you could counter, his fingers were dragging along your cunt, teasing, and you let out a low whine. His mouth attached itself to your throat, teeth sinking into the tender flesh and making you cry out. His tongue smoothed over the spot he’d bitten before repeating the action.

Slowly, his fingers sank inside of you, and your hands were grasping at his hair, making him groan against your skin, a sound that only riled you up further. He moved away from your throat to rest his forehead against yours, and when your eyes fluttered closed, he crooked his fingers inside of you, forcing a cry from your throat.

“Eyes on me,” he whispered, “don’t look away.”

A flush of arousal flooded your system at the request, and you realized how much of a struggle fulfilling it was as he began to move. His fingers were able to reach much deeper than your own were, not to mention that they were thicker. The slow, almost tortuous pace he’d adopted made the friction of his rough palm against your clit even sweeter.

Gasping, breathless, your hands curled around his forearms as you clambered for any kind of purchase, anything to keep you anchored. Your eyes were still locked with his, leaving you unable to hide the flush on your cheeks, the desperation in your gaze.

His eyes were growing wild. Famished and dark as midnight, his gaze slid down your body to what he was doing between your legs, and you watched in rapture as his lips parted, drawing a shuddering, stricken breath at the sight. You squeezed his arm, forcing him to look up at you.

“Don’t break your own rule,” you said, voice heated, and amusement flashed on his face.

“Minx,” he countered, palm grinding against your clit, and you let out a startled moan.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, “that’s what I wanna hear.”

You groaned, both in pleasure and in frustration. “Then go faster.”

He chuckled, full lips pulling into a roguish half smile.

“Oh no,” he said, fingers curling inside of you, making your back arch, “I intend on taking my time with you. You have no idea what you do to me, do you? What you make me feel? I wanna savor this.”

His thumb moved to your clit, rubbing in slow circles, and you bit your lip to muffle your gasp of pleasure. This was embarrassing. You were so defiant before, but some pretty words and his stupid, pretty hands were enough to make all of that crumble.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t bite back.

One of your hands slid down his chest again, fumbling with his belt before tugging it off. He was already hard, something evident through the fabric of his slacks, and when you pressed your palm against him, you got the pleasure of hearing him gasp.

You tugged at his button for a moment before it came unsnapped, then pulled down his zipper before reaching down past the fabric, palming him through his underwear. He shuddered under your touch, a muscle in his jaw tensing as you explored, breath coming out in a sharp burst when your thumb ran over his clothed tip. His eyes briefly flicked away from yours as you focused on that spot, rubbing in circles, making him grunt, and when you pressed down, ever so gently, he groaned.

“You’re making it hard to focus,” he said, and the way he was looking at you was almost predatory.

You looked at him through your lashes, causing his breath to hitch. “Good.”

Finally, you pushed his underwear down, tugging him free and catching him in your hand.

Fuck.

He was thick. Your fingers only barely met as you wrapped your hand around him, and his length was worth mentioning as well. Six and a half inches, you’d guess, maybe even seven. It was oddly pretty, too, with a pink flush. He was a good deal bigger than anything you’d been expecting, not that you thought about Zoro’s dick with any kind of frequency.

You took him into your hand, rubbing at his leaking tip, smearing precum with your thumb, an action that made him groan. You stroked him slowly, just as slow as he was touching you, and you watched as he fought to keep his eyes on you, lashes fluttering. His jaw clenched, hips shifting towards your hand as you thumbed his tip, sliding your fingers down to rub the underside of him.

Zoro’s breath left him in a burst, hips twitching forward, the hand on your waist tightening its grip to nearly bruising. His fingers curled inside of you, making your back arch, free hand flying to grab at the back of his head, tangling into his hair. Your eyes were still locked, and you wanted to kiss him so badly, but you wouldn’t be the one to break, not when he was still going so slowly it was driving you crazy.

So you sped up. You knew you’d catch hell for this, but you decided that whether or not you’d be able to walk tomorrow was a problem for then, when your thoughts weren’t blurry with arousal.

You touched him in quick, even strokes, squeezing at the tip each time, and you got to listen to him growl, his hand slipping from your waist to press against the wall beside your head, fingers fanning out. You could tell from the quickness of his breaths that he was trying to keep control, and then he was speeding up, making you falter.

The curl of his long fingers as he pumped them in and out of you, creating a sound that should’ve embarrassed you, but really only aroused you more. Your brows pitched up, pressing together, because fuck, it almost burned after how slow he’d been going before, making you squirm, and his hand was grabbing at your wrist, pinning the hand that had been touching him to the wall.

“Eyes on me, darling,” he hissed, voice heated, “you wanted faster? I’ll give you faster.”

You couldn’t help but moan as he pushed his fingers deeper, hitting all the right spots, mouth just grazing yours as you squirmed against the wall, bucking your hips against his hand. He was playing you like a damn instrument, thumb firm against your clit, and he rewarded you with deep thrusts of his fingers every time you cried out. You could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, and your fingers knotted in Zoro’s hair, eyes half lidded, pleading. He groaned, low and rough, just at the sight of your stricken expression.

His hand left your wrist to run up your body, stopping on your clothed chest, and he pushed the fabric down below your breasts, causing the straps to slip down your shoulders. His palm pressed against a breast, and your breath shuddered. Your hips jumped when he gently squeezed, rubbing a thumb over one of your nipples. He caught the nipple between his fingers, pulling, rolling it between them, and the sensation shot straight down between your legs.

You were close. It was almost maddening, how good it all felt, and you could hardly focus on anything but Zoro’s hand between your legs, and how you were grinding down into his touch, chasing your high. He let you do as you pleased, gaze downright famished as he watched your face twist in ecstasy. You let out a loud, desperate whine, a near sob as he pushed his fingers deeper, thumb on your clit, driving you into that desperate build that comes just before you tip over the edge.

“Zoro,” you managed, voice strained, “Zoro, please.”

He said nothing, only replying with a growl as he crushed his lips against yours, frenzied and hungry, and your nails dug into his scalp as he brought you to your end, sending you toppling over that edge and into oblivion.

You saw spots as you came, and he broke the kiss to watch your face, gaze dark as your head knocked back against the wall, hips bucking wildly against his hand, because it was all you could do not to scream, one of your hands slamming over your mouth, teeth sinking into your palm. You were squeezing around his fingers, spasms wracking your body, his name on your tongue like a broken prayer. Zoro pulled your hand away from your mouth, diving in to kiss you, deep and passionate, his tongue tangling with yours, and you moaned into his mouth as he worked you through your climax and into the realm of overstimulation.

You were halfway towards a second orgasm when he finally pulled away, and you slumped against the wall, boneless, breath uneven and heavy. Zoro’s mouth pressed against the side of your throat, trailing up to your ear.

“Think you can handle more?”

You smiled, still breathless, looking at him through your lashes. “Let me catch my breath.”

“Tired already?” He taunted.

You responded by pushing off the wall to drop your nightgown off your body, followed by your panties. Zoro’s eyes raked down your figure, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and then he was pulling you to him, mouth hot against yours. You could feel his bare cock pressed against your stomach, and his hands slid down your hips to your thighs, boosting you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

His mouth trailed down your throat, sucking hard enough to surely leave marks, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You pressed your hips forward, grinding against him, and he moaned into your skin, his grip on your body growing tighter. He was growing impatient, you could tell. But so were you.

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” he husked, and you whined, pressing your hips against him once again.

“Then do it,” you said.

That was all it took. You were suddenly moving, tossed onto the bed, and you watched as Zoro slid his trousers down his legs before he was taking his place above you. His mouth was hot against you, and you wrapped your legs around his hips, growing more impatient by the second, something that didn’t go unnoticed.

“So needy,” he chuckled, lips brushing against your jaw, and you arched your back, shifting your body against him, making him hiss between his teeth.

“So cocky for someone who was telling me how bad he wanted to fuck me,” you countered, “are you all talk, then, demon?”

His eyes flashed, thrilled and amused, and you knew you were in for it, but not one part of you cared. In fact, you welcomed it. Obviously just as impatient as you were, he was prying your thighs farther apart, his body slotting between them.

You felt his tip at your entrance, pressing forward, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch as he pushed inside, and fuck, even just that was a stretch. Your head fell back, breath uneven. You felt Zoro’s mouth against your neck, and he was pushing forwards just a bit more, making you whine.

“Fuck,” you gasped, “fuck, you’re too big.”

“Relax,” he urged, voice rough, “it’s too fuckin’ tight, you gotta relax.”

You took a breath through your nose, fingers knotting into the duvet beneath your body. You took another breath as he sunk deeper, the stretch bordering on painful, but you could take it, even if it felt new and strange.

Zoro’s face was flushed pleasantly pink, a sight that would be endearing in any other context, and you watched his teeth grit as he pushed forward again.

“You can take it,” he whispered, encouraging, “shit, relax, relax.”

You lifted your hips, allowing him to take hold of them, using them as leverage to push the rest of the way in, finally bottoming out.

“Fuck,” Zoro gasped, voice breathless and stricken, “fuck, that’s it, I knew you could take it— shit—”

His sentence was cut off by a loud groan, and you yanked him down into a kiss, appreciating how still he was being, despite his rapidly unraveling restraint, but you could hardly wait, even as your body protested at the unfamiliar feeling of being stuffed so full. You shifted your hips forward, your breath leaving your lungs in a sudden burst, and you heard Zoro groan in response.

“Move,” you gasped, “please.”

He gave a shallow little thrust, then another one, slightly deeper, and you felt his hands grip your waist as he pulled his hips back, only to thrust forward, filling you once more.

You gave a choked, helpless moan as he thrust again, and fuck, you didn’t think you’d ever felt so full in your life. The stretch was rapidly making your thoughts turn to nonsense, head emptied out, and not one part of you cared at all.

Zoro adopted a pace that had you rocking back against the bed, head falling into the pillows, and he was dipping his head down to meet your mouth in a heavy kiss. His hands found your legs, pushing them up to wind around his waist, shifting his hips back to an angle that made your head spin.

“Right there,” you slurred, “Zoro, Zoro, right there— so good.”

He gave a low, indulgent groan, his hands smoothing over your body, grabbing at your waist, tugging you flush against him before he was thrusting again, stuffing you full, forcing a sudden moan to fall from your lips.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin on skin, mixed with your breathy, bitten-off moans and his soft grunts, and fuck, you didn’t know it would feel this good. It definitely wouldn’t be the last time this happened, not when it was more than evident that what you felt for Zoro was far from one-sided, and certainly not when it made you feel like this.

Your nails dug into Zoro’s back as he fucked into you, and he gave a stronger thrust, breath shuddering. You watched a muscle in his jaw tense, twitching, eyes squeezing shut as you tightened around him. His head dipped to connect his mouth with the curve of your shoulder, dragging down to your chest, and his lips pressed against your nipple. His tongue passed over the sensitive flesh, making you arch into him, squirming, and his grip grew tighter.

“You don’t know how much I thought about this,” he breathed, hips rocking forward, “how many times I imagined fucking you in that closet. You’re so fucking gorgeous, with that smart-ass mouth. And you love this, don’t you? You’ve wanted this, too.”

You let out a shrill wine as he ground his hips against you, the base of his cock rubbing against your clit. Your hips lifted to meet his thrusts, making him groan, and he was holding you down, one hand on your lower stomach as he shifted back onto his knees, tugging your thighs around his hips.

“I wanted this,” you slurred, back arching as he ground his hips against yours just right, “thought about it, too.”

Zoro’s hands tightened on your thighs, and you sobbed in bliss as he ground himself against you, the friction combined with the way he made sure to hit your clit with the base of his cock with every roll of his hips making it hard to even see straight.

You tossed your head back, whimpering, and you weren’t going to last, not when he was doing everything he could to make you writhe. Each thrust left your head empty, breath heavy and rough.

“Harder,” you gasped, “c’mon, Zoro, give it to me.”

You felt his hands find the backs of your knees, lifting them to your sides to use as leverage as he pushed deeper with a heavy groan. His mouth met your throat, and then he was biting down, but the pain was nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure, the two mixing into an intoxicating feeling. Deep, hard thrusts sent you into incoherency, and when one of his hands left your leg to press a thumb to your clit, you let out a whine of his name.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Zoro groaned, “you’re gettin’ close, yeah?”

You could do no more than nod as he took your body with abandon, your climax so close it was driving you insane. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers in his hair, and he groaned in your ear as you bucked up against him. You were totally drunk on pleasure, overwhelmed. He was the center of your world at that moment as he thrust deep into you, the rough pad of his thumb working you into madness.

You bit down on Zoro’s shoulder, sobbing in bliss as your orgasm hit you, washing over you like a tidal wave. His name was the only word on your tongue as he worked you through it, repeating it like unholy scripture until you could do no more than whimper in ecstasy, nails digging into his back.

“Fuck— fuck!” You heard him cry, hips stuttering, “one more, do that again, I need to feel that again.”

And he was hiking one of your legs over his shoulder as his pace turned borderline punishing, leaving you helpless, unable to do anything other than lay there and take it, but you hardly had the wherewithal to even protest, not as he worked your over-sensitive body to its very limits.

His nails dug into your thigh, a growl tearing from his throat as his thrusts grew erratic. Your head was empty, completely fucked out, thoughts filled only with jumbled thoughts of the man above you as he fucked you, deep and hard. You felt tears beading at your lash line as Zoro worked you towards yet another climax, and you yanked him down into a sloppy kiss in crazed desperation for as much contact as possible.

“Gonna cum,” you choked, “Zoro, fuck—”

“Do it,” he snarled, “fuck, do it, cum on my cock— yeah!”

You felt yourself gush on his dick, muffling your scream in the crook of his neck, vision spotty, and you knew you’d get addicted to this, addicted to him, but you knew neither of you cared at all about that fact, not when he was chanting your name, chasing his release as you squeezed around him in a vice grip. His pace was relentless, entirely indulgent, and you could feel him twitching inside of you.

“Wanna fill you,” he gasped, desperate, completely undone, “let me, will you let me?”

Unable to form words, you only nodded, yanking him down into another kiss as he thrust all the way in, stuffing you completely full, moaning into your mouth as he pulsed inside of you, his hands bruising in their grip on your body. Heat bloomed inside of you, making you whimper against his mouth, and you slowly rocked your hips to help him through the euphoria of it all, something that made blunt nails dig into your flesh.

Together, you lay panting, breathless and undone, tangled together. Zoro broke the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing erratically, and it was a few tense moments before he was slowly pulling out, rolling off of you to lay beside you.

“That can’t be a one time thing,” you said, after you found your voice, and Zoro huffed what may have been a laugh.

“Fuck no.”

A few beats of silence passed before the bed creaked, and another few passed before you felt a towel between your thighs, wiping you clean. Then, the blankets were being pulled back, and you were being tucked under them. Zoro climbed in shortly after, tugging you to lay against his body.

Silence passed some more, and you almost thought Zoro had fallen asleep before he spoke.

“You make me feel things I’m not used to,” he said.

You stole closer, curling into him, resting your head on his chest.

“How long have I done that?”

He pressed his nose into your hair. “Since I met you.”

You snorted. “Bullshit. You didn’t like me when we met.”

“I did,” he said, “I’m being serious. You’re gorgeous and strong, and you know it. You don’t back down. You made me feel things I’ve never felt before for anyone. I didn’t know how to handle that, so I acted like an idiot.”

You smirked. “Hell of a time to tell me that, after you fucked my brains out. You had a crush, so you acted like a little kid on the playground, is that it?”

A snort. “Yeah, pretty much. Never said I was proud of it.”

You laughed, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours.

“I feel the same,” you said, “when you kissed me in that closet, I realized it. You could’ve just asked me to get a drink, though.”

Zoro smiled. “Sure, I could’ve. But this was way more fun.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Teasing me relentlessly?”

“Yep. Do you have a problem with that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, several. But I’ll pay you back for that in due time.”

“Give it your best shot. I look forward to it.”

Idle chatter continued for a little while before you began to doze off. You felt Zoro tug you closer as you fell asleep, and for once since you started sailing with the Straw Hats, you were actually thankful for storms.

And, as you felt Zoro’s lips press against the crown of your head, you were excited for the future.

“You had fun last night.”

You turned to look at Nami from your spot at the front railings of the Merry, eyes slowly growing wide.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure,” she said, “play that game. But maybe try a little harder to cover up the hickies next time you and Zoro… spend the night together.”

Shit.

“Nami, I’m sorry,” you relented, “it sort of just happened.”

She snickered. “Usopp told me he basically forbade anyone from taking the room with you after you left the lobby.”

You put your face in your hands, thoroughly embarrassed. “Usopp knows?”

“He isn’t stupid, anyone could’ve figured out what might happen. The hickies are just confirmation.”

“Confirmation for what?”

You bristled at the sound of Zoro’s voice, stiffening when he crossed the deck to reach you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Nami said, and Zoro smirked, smugness radiating off of him in waves.

“Do I?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why else would she be walking funny?”

Zoro shrugged, nonchalant, still smug as ever. “I guess we’ll never know.”

And as he tugged you closer, nose pressing into your hair as Nami turned to walk away, you couldn't help but smile.

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somanyratsinthewalls · 9 months ago

Note

Heyy! I’m new here and I absolutely love your writings wksiwksjwjshe is your 300 event still open?

if yes I would love to req a cinnamon + poplar ! hehe thank you! (If it’s already closed then don’t mind me)

*HI sorry this took forever! But I hope you love it ;) Ace is such a filthy boy in this one, EYE certainly enjoyed it*

Pairing: Ace x Fem Reader

WC: 2200

Prompt: “Shh I know baby, I know it’s good. You’re doing so good for me…”

TW: SEX, shameless flirting in public, Ace being kind of a pervert, reader is a bit older than young buck Ace, p in v sex, unprotected sex (don't) creampie (also don't) fingering, teasing, pet names, filthy language. the usual?

— —

You sat at your desk in the medical ward of the ship, up to your ears in paperwork. Blood test results to log, supply order forms to go over, you had so much on your plate and it was eating away at you. The rest of the crew was in the galley drinking but you were stuck working.

Suddenly the door to the med bay swings open and in waltzes the crew’s head doctor.

“Ok little chicken, that’s enough work for tonight.” Marco smiles warmly at you as he approaches your desk.

“Please stop calling me that." You sigh and rub your eyes. "And I still have more releases to sign off on, and the IV tubing we use for Dad is on backorder, so I have to decide if we go up a size or down a size and did you know-“ You ramble on and on while Marco rolls his eyes.

“I’ll handle it. Go out and have a drink.” Marco eyes your tired face. “Gods know you need it, kiddo.”

You sigh. You feign a smile as you rise from your desk chair, the joints in your back and knees popping from how long you had been sitting.

“Was… was that your back?” Marco asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes. Shut up.” You say as you push your way out of the med bay. You follow the sounds of music and riotous laughter towards the galley and enter quietly. You slunk between the groups of pirates towards the center of the room and grab a beer from the barrel full of ice. You pull your cigarette lighter out of your pocket and use it to pop the cap off your beer. You stow the lighter back into your pocket.

“Hey, y/n! Over here!”

You turn around and see a somewhat intoxicated Ace waving you over to his table. He had that stupid, goofy grin on his face. You smiled back and headed in his direction. He was standing around a wooden table with Thatch, Izou and a few other Whitebeard pirates and nurses.

“Jeez y/n you look like you’ve been up for a week.” Ace teases you.

“I think I have, now that you mention it…” You say and take a sip of your beer.

“Man I haven’t seen you this down before, y/n. What the hell is going on with you?” Izou asks.

“Well, since you’ve asked! I’m exhausted. I’m bored. I’m stressed. I can’t tell if I want 5 more beers or to fall asleep on the floor! I am wildly overworked and under-fucked.” You finish your rant and slam your beer.

“Anyone else need another one?” You ask to the now silent group of people that surrounded you at the table. You were met with mostly blank stares, shocked at your sudden outburst. You turn and head to grab a new beer.

“I’ll come with you!” Ace is quick to join with a mischievous smirk on his lips.

He follows you like a puppy as you head towards the beer.

“You know I can help you with that, right?” Ace grabs your arm and pulls you to face him.

You laugh.

“I don’t really think Marco would trust you enough to run my blood tests for me, but thanks.”

“No no, the other part. The being under-fucked part.” Ace smirks down at you. Again, you laugh.

“Haha, oh yeah? What are you, like 23? Like you’d know what to do with it if you had a chance.” You smile playfully and wiggle out of his grip, finally retrieving another beer. Ace does the same and sidles close behind you on your way back to the table. Suddenly Ace’s breath is hot in your ear as he leans in to whisper something to you.

“Well I’ve got an 8 inch cock that might change your mind on that…” You stop dead in your tracks and your eyes widen.

“Wha-?”

Ace passes by you and goes to join the table again. “Only if you want, though! Come on, let’s have another drink!” Ace beckons you over like he hadn’t just whispered the most crude, filthy thing in your ear 30 seconds ago.

Convincing yourself you had imagined it, you snap out of your trance and return to the table to drink.

You enjoy a few more rounds of drinks and you notice with each beer, Ace slides his body closer and closer to yours. You could attribute this to the size of your party shrinking as people headed off to bed, but at this point he was basically pressing his side into yours, occasionally grazing his warm hand over your hip.

His touch was fleeting, but hot… it made you crave more. You found yourself leaning into him and he pulled you closer in return. He felt you shudder.

“Oh man, y/n, you must really be tired. Do you need help getting back to your room okay?” Ace looks down at you with a devious smirk. You knew what he was really asking.. and you were far too quick to respond.

“Yes, I think I’d like that, Ace.” You smile and he wraps his arm around your hip and pulls you away from the table.

Ace is all but giggling as he brings you back to your room, pinching and squeezing your skin anywhere he could tease it. He stops at your door and looks at you expectantly.

You laugh.

“Would you like to come inside, Ace?”

“Hell yeah!” Ace practically jumps into your room behind you and slams the door shut.

From the instant the door is closed, Ace’s lips are on yours. You barely had time to react to the kiss before he started tugging at your clothes. You laugh and pull back from the kiss.

“Haha slow down! We have all night Ace… I’m not going anywhere.” You purr at him and stroke his cheek. What a sweet, eager little thing he was.

Ace nuzzles himself into your neck and plants a wet kiss.

“‘M’sorry, just hate seeing you like this…” Ace continued licking and biting at your neck. You whimper. “Gonna fix it… gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

Your cunt clenched in anticipated of what he was about to do to your body. Ace pulls your dress over your head and tosses it to the floor. He distracts you with more kisses as he unclasps your bra and pulls it off of you. Ace kisses down to your stomach and gently pulls your panties down. You step out of them and realize you’re completely bare in front of your friend.

You covered your breasts instinctively. Those doesn’t go unnoticed by Ace, who was coming up to meet your eye again. He pulls your arm gently away from your chest and smiles.

“Aww are you shy, baby?” Ace coos at you. You blush so hard you think your face might be on fire. Why was he having this affect on you? He was a young blowhard at least 5 years your junior, and yet he ended up with all of the control in this situation…

“That’s ok, come here…” Ace gets on your bed and sits up with his back against the pillows and headboard. “Let me show you why you don’t need to be shy.” He smirks and holds out his arms to you.

You lick your lips and climb into Ace’s waiting lap. He positions you with your back again his chest, sitting between his legs. This position reminded you how Ace was still fully clothed and you were completely naked. Something about being so vulnerable in front of him was intoxicating…

“Spread your legs, sugar. Show me that cute pussy.” Ace whispers in your ear as he pulls your legs over his own, spreading them as far as they could go comfortably.

“Ace…” You whimper quietly, trying to turn your head away. You were embarrassed at how aroused he had made you, all while barely touching you… but not nearly embarrassed enough to ask him to stop.

Ace wastes no time before his hands are on your dripping sex.

“Holy shit…” Ace glides a finger up and down your slit. “Look at how wet you are, pretty.” His one finger turns to two fingers as he collects more of your slick from your hole and brings it up to rub firm circles onto your clit.

“Ace! Fuck!” You throw your head back, body feeling like it was filled with static electricity. He had you so worked up that every little touch felt like it was amplified by 100.

“You’re so wet that I bet I could just slip my fingers in..” Ace smirks and swiftly plunges the two digits into your hole. You moan. “And I bet that if I do this…” Ace begins to firmly pull and tap his fingers into that delicious spot inside of your cunt. “… you’ll cum.”

“Shit, fuck, Ace! O-oh my- Ah! ACE!” You cry out and explode all over Ace’s arm and the bed in front of you.

“Looks like I was right, huh baby? That’s a good girl, give it all to me.” Ace playfully reacts as he rubs at your clit to prolong your orgasm.

“Fuck… Ace…” You lay heaving on your bed in Ace’s arms, the spasms from your climax finally ceasing.

You feel Ace smiling into your neck as he peppers it with sweet kisses.

“I wouldn’t know what to do with it, huh???” He chuckles into your damp skin.

“Shut up and fuck me already.” You roll your eyes.

Ace gently moves you out from between his legs and he rises from the bed to remove his vest and shorts. You audibly gasp at the sight of his huge member springing free from its confines.

“Jeez you weren’t kidding…” You say softly, eyes not leaving Ace’s cock in front of you.

“I’m a pirate, baby, not a liar.” He flashes you that stupid grin again. “Now face down, ass up, sugar.”

You quickly oblige, grabbing a pillow to cushion your face that was now stained with mascara. The first thing you feel is a warm hand sliding up your spine and massaging your skin, then you feel the prodding of Ace’s thick cock at your sopping wet entrance, the heavy mushroom tip barely breaching your hole. Ace dipped his tip teasingly in and out…

“Ace…. please…” You whine as you push your hips back to entice him to fully enter you.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give it to you, you don’t ever need to beg for me, pretty.” Ace plants both hands on your hips and pulls your ass flush against his pelvis, sinking his cock as deep as it will go into you.

Strangled moans leave the both of you as he bottoms out. Ace pulls out slowly, looking down to admire the wet mess you’ve already left on his cock. He pushes back in and you moan again, squeezing him involuntarily.

“Gods you were right… this tight little pussy is under-fucked.” Ace speeds up his thrusts and you gasp, the wind nearly knocked out of you. “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna make sure that never happens to you again… gonna fuck you every day… make you feel so fucking good…”

Ace was slamming into you at an animalistic pace and you felt a second orgasm creeping up on you. You could feel the droplets of sweat from Ace’s face splatter on your back, as well as the crazed, possessive grip on your hips almost certainly leaving bruises. You couldn’t form words, only broken sobs and shrieks as your lover drilled into you, dead set on making you cum again.

Tears fell from your eyes against the pillow and you whined, so close to reaching your peak again.

“Shh I know baby, I know it’s good. You’re doing so good for me…” Ace coos at you. “Cum on my cock and I’ll fill you up, ‘kay sugar?” Ace leans forward and presses his chest to you as he continues his brutal assault on your pussy. He reaches one hand from your hip down and around to rub at your clit. The stimulation sends you over the edge and your orgasm rips through your whole body. “Ace!” You scream out and lurch forward, no longer able to hold your torso up with your arms anymore.

“Good fucking girl! Now I’m gonna make you mine…” Ace praises you.

You try to mumble out “please” but you truly have no idea if you were saying anything coherent.

“Haaa, fuck!” Ace cries out and spills his load impossibly deep into your warm hole. You whimper as you feel rope after rope of Ace’s hot seed filling you. Ace rubs firm circles into your hips as he calms down from his release.

Suddenly, Ace pulls out of you and flops back into your bed and pulls you to his chest. You nuzzle into his sweaty pecs as you throw a leg over his hips. Ace pulls the blanket over the two of you, briefly leaning upwards to make sure your whole body was covered and comfortable before settling back on the pillows.

“So you were serious?” You ask quietly.

“About what, baby?” Ace answers as he strokes your hair.

“About fucking me every day?” You chuckle.

“Mmhmm…” Ace kisses the top of your head. “Tomorrow. And the next day.. and the next day… and the next day… and the next… and…”

You hear Ace start snoring and smile.

#one piece #one piece anime #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #one piece fandom #one piece netflix #one piece live action #one piece fanart #portgas d ace #portgas ace smut #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x you #ace x reader #ace smut #one piece ace

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ametistacollinsworld · 6 months ago

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𖤓 V, J and N x Child! Realistic Human drone! Reader 𖤓

My 66 request! I hope it's good!!! >:3

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You don't remember exactly when you were created, who your creator was… or what your purpose was…

You just remember waking up one day with no memories and your entire spaceship shaking violently while the control panel let out several error noises or loud heat warnings that scared you, which made you curl up in the fetal position under one of the control tables and closing your eyes being scared. The next thing you knew, the spaceship crashed hard against the ground, making you hit your head against the table and fly to the ceiling of the spaceship before ending up face down on the floor, which made you whimper.

★ᯓ Some time later ᯓ★

You don't know how long it's been since you arrived at this place, maybe a few hours? You really had no idea.

Luckily (or unluckily) for you, you started to hear the sounds of footsteps approaching where you were, followed by 3 voices that seemed to be discussing something that you unfortunately couldn't hear very well from inside the ship. You soon heard a loud noise coming from the direction where the door was, followed by a loud 'BAM' sound!

"Look for any sign of another group being here. We don't want them to possibly stay in our already designated patrol area. You look inside the spaceship since you're a useless N, while me and V will look around for any clues." A female voice with a superior and somewhat bossy tone spoke loudly followed by a "Right!" feminine voice and an "Okay!" masculine voice.

You huddled further under the table if possible, trying to control your breathing so you wouldn't get caught… Which soon proved useless after a few minutes, as you locked eyes with a pair of yellow eyes belonging to the male murder drone that was now lowered, looking straight at your small, cowering humanoid figure. He seemed to sense your nervousness.

"O-Oh! Hey little one! Y-you… you're not a real human… are you? Uh…" N spoke quickly, rambling softly approaching a hand slowly towards your small figure, the that you pulled away from his touch still feeling scared.

"Oh… I'm sorry little one. I didn't even introduce myself, did I? My name is N! What's your name?" N asked calmly giving you a smile trying to make you feel more comfortable with him.

"(Y/n)…" You said softly looking at him shyly, which he gave you a content smile.

"(Y/n)? What a cool name! How about you come down from there so I can see you better?" N asked with a soft beam, still trying not to scare you, which seemed to work, as you crawled closer to him holding his winter coat in your little hands, which he screamed internally, finding you adorable.

"Okay (Y/n), can I hold you?" N asked with a soft tone stroking your head slowly. You just nodded receiving a happy smile from him, feeling him take you into his arms and hold you against his chest.

"Uh- J? V? I think I found something…" N spoke out loud for the female drones to hear. Some grumbling from the leader was heard.

"I hope it's really important or I'll rip your legs off N!" J spoke in the distance, not seeming to be satisfied with N's vague announcement.

"Oh biscuits-…" N spoke softly seeing the two female drones flying towards the two of you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ Time break

Well, we can say that J and V were at least surprised by the new discovery made by the male drone, V just watched you from afar with confusion and curiosity… while J didn't even make a sarcastic comment about N! He was safe from J… for now.

"Well? What should we do with them? They're clearly not a real human- at least that's what my sensors indicate… but they still look like a small child…" V spoke with an uninterested tone, but with a hidden hint of worry for what might happen to you if they left you behind.

"Well, my sensors indicate the same result- So I guess it's a fact." J spoke with her grumpy tone, but now with a thoughtful expression as she looked at your small figure who seemed to have fallen asleep. N sighed softly at the words of the two drones.

"S-So? What are we going to do with them? They can't stay here, they're just a kid! Can we keep them?" N asked quickly with a worried expression, not wanting to lose his new friend, meanwhile stroking your hair slowly so as not to wake you, which J rolled her eyes at his actions.

"Of course we'll keep them. Even though they're not a real human, they were still inside the company's spaceship… so they must be one of ours. We must take care of them." J spoke slowly, giving N a look that told him to keep quiet and not interrupt her. V turned away to hide the small smile that formed on her lips, she was happy that you were safe.

"Really?! Thanks J! I'll be the best caretaker in the world!" N initially spoke in an excited tone, but soon calmed down remembering that you were sleeping, giving a happy smile to J and then to your sleeping form.

"Don't thank me. I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing this for the company." J spoke with a tone of disgust, rolling her eyes once again and crossing her arms.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ Time break

We can say that the small group quickly became attached to you, treating you as a true kid to them.

N from the beginning, has adored you, finding you adorable and wanting to take care of you, becoming your full-time caregiver, as well as hunting down Worker drones to feed him and you fresh oil! He almost threw a cute fit when you called him 'Papa' for the first time, so you're definitely a weakness of his. :)

V also thought you were cute from the beginning, but having to maintain the 'feelingless psychopath' mask and try not to interact with you too close to the other two so as not to raise suspicions. When the other two left her to take care of you, she loved to play with you, tickling you or kissing your cheeks, making you laugh. She was touched when you called her 'Mama', thinking you were the cutest thing she could have ever known.

J… well, we can say that she didn't really know what to feel about you, but other than that, she also tried her best to take care of you, whether it was for the company or not, and over time she warmed up and became more protective of you, giving you the title 'Little assassin in training'. She was a little embarrassed when you called her 'Mama' for the first time, but then she liked it and said it was okay if you wanted to call her that.

They were a bit shocked when they discovered the killer part of you on the loose, taking place on one of their many Worker drone hunts, where N was watching you and suddenly you had transformed into something less humanoid and more robotic and was following J and V… and in the blink of an eye you were in front of them both and already ended up with an entire colony alone. They were surprised, but kind of proud too-

Basically 1 new papa and 2 new mamas for you :]

#murder drones x reader #murder drones #md x reader #murder drones n x reader #murder drones v x reader #murder drones j x reader

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the-100-days-of-junkan · 1 month ago

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THE 100 DAYS OF JUNKAN

Hello everybody! I’m Carbonated-Jem!

I sincerely hope you’re having a good day as this post finds you.

You’re probably wondering what this is. Well this my good compatriot is the result of a very ill advised task I put upon myself at the beginning of this year. There’ll be a TL;DR at the bottom for those who don’t want my full ramblings (sorry about that btw, not very good at this), but I do appreciate anyone who’ll give a silly person like me the time of day.

You see, I am a fan of Danganronpa, and as a result I like to read a lot of gay fanfic (and if I’m feeling daring I’ll even look at fan art, shocking). This series for all its ups and downs is quite important to me and becoming who I am today. Tokomaru especially helped me through a period of a lot of stress and depression, among other things.

But as you can tell by the name this isn’t a Blog Dedicated to Tokomaru, it’s a blog dedicated to Junkan. Which might be very surprising to anyone who I haven’t divulged this info to personally.

I try to make it a habit to not delve too deep into fandoms for the sake of my mental health, I look up fanart, read some appreciation posts on tumblr, read fics, and depending on the series make art for others to enjoy. However one thing I tend to become vaguely aware of regardless of whether I want to or not is what ships are and are not controversial. So I am very aware of the fact that saying I ship Junko and Mikan is bare minimum getting some weird looks from a lot of the people reading this.

Before I give a reason why I’m doing this let me just make clear what this is in the first place.

This is the 100 Days of Junkan, a project I undertook (Kind of as a joke) at the beginning of the year. I have made 100 Pieces to post across the next 100 Days. Some are finished art, some are sketches, some are sketches I added color to later, some are multiple images grouped into one day, comics, and far more. I’ve learned a lot through this project artistically, and some of the surprises I have in store will hopefully be worth the effort. I don’t know 100% for sure what day this post will be on, however the event itself will begin October 1st, and if I did the math right will continue all the way till January 9th.

Why would I put this much time and energy into this ship, knowing that there are a lot of people who downright hate it? Simple, I just like the ship a lot, and wanted to make more art for it.

And I should further note, there are plenty of fans of this ship as well, however they may be disappointed to hear that unless you’re very much like me, you probably won’t enjoy what I’ve made with these two. In canon (much to my chagrin, because I’m not partial to the direction it took in DR3) this is a very abusive relationship. This is not really my thing, anyone who has seen the ship art I’ve done on my main page will know that I much prefer to draw soft, fluffy shipping art. I try to make art which will leave a positive vibe on people for the most part.

That said I understand why there are people who like this ship for how it is represented in canon. Shipping Junkan has taught me to stop being judgy of people for what they ship (I used to really hate Togami x Toko for example, and while it’s still not my thing I can totally understand why people are into it now). Everyone has their own reasons for shipping something, whether it’s an interesting dynamic, they just like seeing the characters kiss, as a coping mechanism, and plenty of other reasons. I have my boundaries of course, but at this point I try to be open minded towards peoples proclivities.

So if I’m not drawing a Canon Compliant Depiction of this ship, what am I actually doing here?

Well I’ve decided that I’m going to draw niche art for an already very niche ship. I like Junkan on the softer side, where regardless of where it's supposed to be in canon or an AU they just actually love eachother, I've seen and have been inspired by a decent amount of Fanfics depicting this exact thing. It's the dynamic that I find the most interesting personally, as I like the directions you can take it with the characters.

So that’s the deal, for 100 Days starting from October 1st you can expect this blog to post a constant flow of soft Junko x Mikan art. If that’s your thing, I sincerely hope you like all this! It’s been my number one goal to give some art to the people who share a similar desire for softer depictions of this Ship, along with all the people who have already made amazing pieces of writing and artwork depicting the same. If this isn’t your thing, I hope you’ll at least stick around to give it a chance, and if I can’t sell you on it like I have with some of my friends, I hope you can at least walk away from this with a shrug.

Apologizing in advance to all those who peruse the Mikan and Junko tag, because this is gonna be flooding those for awhile I imagine. I fully understand if you wanna block me for this, hope you have a lovely day after that!

Now dear viewer, please watch this long road unwind and behold such sights as: Me slowly memorizing these two to the point that I can draw them almost entirely without reference at this point, inconsistent colors schemes, inconsistent heights, so much goddamn blushing, AU’s galore, and the unspeakable things I learned how to do for this project! (And by unspeakable I mean I don’t wanna spoil the surprise!)

Oh! And as an extra bonus to all this, go check out my AO3 account. I have a singular Junkan Fic on there right now, however as a little bonus for this event (and sure, thematic for Halloween) I’m going to be posting a Vampire AU Junkan Fic periodically throughout October. Partially inspired by the fact that Day 30 depicts a scene I came up with way before the actual fic, and I really want to have it written out and available to read before that post comes out.

The other reason is that if I say i’m going to post it here, that means I am required to actually do it by the law of my brain. Which will likely outweigh my complete lack of self confidence in my ability to write anything making me too paranoid to actually let it go public~

Here’s the link!

And if you stumbled upon this post through the Junkan Tag and not my main account, here’s a link to it!

You’ll find plenty of other Danganronpa Art, including Junko and Mikan on their own. I do other stuff but I imagine that’d be the most immediately interesting, but hey you never know. So hopefully if this blog doesn’t provide anything you’d be into, my normal works will catch your attention!

I’ve also opened an Ask Box for this blog, why? I dunno. I’ll be real it just seemed like the thing to do. But feel free to ask questions and I'll try to respond best I can!

And finally here is the TL,DR for those who didn't wanna read through my mind numbing rambling.

I like Danganronpa, I like drawing Soft Junkan art for a lot of reasons. I’m posting 100 Pieces for 100 Days of this ship, and hopefully ya’ll will enjoy it. If not, that’s okay! I hope you have a great day!

Reblogs Appreciated!~ Stay hydrated Everyone!~

#Junkan #Danganronpa #Junko Enoshima #Mikan Tsumiki #Shipping #Enomiki #Junkomikan #Can't wait to write these tags 100 times #Tsumiki Mikan #Enoshima Junko

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mirohtron · 11 months ago

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im writing for @kaiwewi for this year's Secret Santa :) their prompt was:

Please write a story about a villain who is more of a mascot for their group of competent 'henchman' rather than an actual boss/leader.

—

Technically, the villain should've had the foresight to see this coming. They should've, probably, mentioned it to their leader, and if not them at least some lower-tier henchman. At least casually. Been like, hey, if I get kidnapped, you'll wanna save me, right? Could be hard to replace me.

Oh, man.

This wasn't really happening, was it?

A rough, hard punch to the cheek sent their whole world spinning. A pink leather-clad hand yanked them up from the back of their hair to keep them from sinking. The villain considered screaming for help and quickly thought against it. They had to stay put. Had to.

"Got you now," said the crueler hero. What was her name again? Something pretty and harmless that didn't match her dreadful grin. The guy beside her was all red and gold muscle. The villain had seen him grace the covers of a couple magazines before; their mother had been subscribed to Vanity growing up.

Oh, if only their mother could see them right now. Getting kidnapped in a back alley in the dead of night. In civilian clothes too, at that. Embarrassing.

"Took you long enough," the villain replied, and the next punch knocked a tooth out. They spat it out in a bloody glob, staining the red hero's boots. On the black asphalt, their molar looked like a red fucking star. Or perhaps a bloody ship lost at sea. Their saliva was salty and their breath metallic.

Fuck. Fuck, they should've brought this up with their leader at least once.

Red circled Pink like a slinking cat, waiting to strike at her say-so.

"Hurt them," she ordered, and Red drove his knee into the villain's gut, driving all the air out of their lungs, and threw them to the asphalt. Their palms scraped against loose gravel. Their tooth was right beside their little finger. The villain's lungs spasmed and they could barely catch up to their pain.

Their henchmen never hit them. Sure, the villain was used as a mascot, was the assigned 'fall guy' if it all went to shit, but their henchmen never hit them. Why would they? There was no reason to damage your mask... unless they ratted you out to a bunch of heroes.

What a wonderful excuse that would be. Hitting them to build up pain tolerance so they wouldn't go around breaking in interrogations. The villain wasn't even sure what these heroes did to get people like them to break. They'd heard horror stories about electrocution. Hallucinogens. It made their stomach churn.

Pink dug the heel of her boot into the villain's sternum, watching them struggle to breathe. Beside her, Red silently watched the scene occur like a good toy.

"Look at them," she remarked. Her eyes were alight with a predatory glow. "Helpless without their minions."

"Like you without your bitch," the villain rasped.

Pink's expression turned terrible, and she brought her boot down on their face with fury.

The world went white.

—

There is no point in explaining how they got into this position. The only thing you need to know is this: despite the fear surrounding the villain’s name and their face, despite their grandeur, and even despite the terrifying speeches they spent hours poring over before releasing to the public, all the villain was, was a mascot to their henchmen and their shadowy leader. They were powerless, merely a result of perfect cues and perfect illusions. Behind the scenes, they were as replaceable as a magician’s cards.

—

The villain could not see for several hours.

It was possible that nobody was coming. A small part of their mind, harbouring a particularly loud voice, feared that their henchmen were already looking for replacements. Maybe they already had a list of candidates that they were crossing out.

In the most pathetic parts of the villain's mind they considered giving up every bit of information they knew, inclined to believe that somewhere out there, was a body double suited up and in the midst of memorising a script. Perhaps in exchange for information, they’d be offered a stable life. How delusional.

Someone had taken their sweater off, and some skin on their forearms was raw and red from when Red shoved them to the ground, tender in the chilly air of whatever room they were held in.

Rough hands forced their arms to wrap around the backrest of a metal chair. The villain took in a wheezing gasp and struggled as they heard the rustle of a thick cord being unwrapped.

"Ugh," came an apathetic voice, and a third hand wrapped around the back of their neck and forced their head down. They couldn't struggle like this; the metal dug into their flesh and they weren't strong enough to put up a fight.

The cord was fastened, and the blindfold over their eyes was yanked out.

Neon lights as bright as the sun blinded them, and they caught the glint of water just below their vision.

“Now,” commanded a voice, and a red hand caught their hair, and before the villain could register a goddamn thing they were drowning.

The villain made the biggest mistake of their life: they breathed, and their brain went into instant shock as water burned their airways. They opened their mouth to gasp and choked on liquid death, ears popping, their body's temperature dropping. The bowl's edges dug into their neck and jaw and they struggled and struggled, feet kicking the floor, hitting table legs and air and other useless things.

The hand on their neck kept them down, cold, unfeeling. Murderous. The villain's lungs burned; the water remained ice cold. Their heart jack-knifed in their chest, threatened to break out of their ribs. The water suffocated them mercilessly.

They were dying. They were dying and nobody was coming to help.

The world went as white as those neon lights.

—

Cold water ran down their chin, wetting their chest, making their hair stick to their face. The skin on their arms burned from the metal chair. The interrogation (torture?) room was all metal walls and neon lights.

The villain's lungs burned with each breath, but they took in air graciously. Had they blacked out?

A blurry face, pale and cruel, came into view, haloed by the lights. Behind Pink, the villain spotted cuffs hanging from a stained wall. Beside her feet were worn cords, dried blood on them.

The metal on this chair was rusted. They'd need a tetanus shot if they got cut from this, right?

Pink turned to Red, who stood behind them. "Dim the lights."

The hand on their hair left. Pink caught the villain's jaw, leaning down to look at them eye to eye.

The villain took in another noisy, unsteady breath. Their stomach still churned. Their chest felt as cold as their chair.

The lights dimmed until Pink's features were highlighted ghostly white, shadowed menacingly. Red's presence behind the villain felt radioactive.

Someone had to come. Someone had to. They were a good mascot, weren't they? But acrobats were as replaceable to circuses as playing cards were to a magician. They clenched their corded hands into tight, trembling fists.

Her grip threatened to bruise. "I knew there was something wrong with you," she said. "So brave playing the evil guy, treating the city like it's a stage, but without your employers, you're just another regular crook, aren't you?"

The villain’s chest seized at the accuracy with which she’d clocked them, but they forced themselves to give her the most cutting grin they could muster. "We're much more similar than you think, you and I."

Red pulled their head back and pressed something metallic to their neck—a blade. The villain let out a terrified sound, and Pink laughed. "Look at them," she said. "Shaking like a leaf at a blunt knife."

"I could do a lot of damage with it," said Red. He dragged the knife down, rusty just like everything else in this damn room, trailing grime down their skin in its wake. He aimed the point of it at the hollow of their throat, and the villain choked on a noise. "Could poke here with enough pressure, see what happens."

The villain desperately shook their head as much as they could. Pink seemed to delight in their reaction.

Oh, god. They scrambled for some lines stored in their head, from watching movies and reading scripts and writing speeches. "Come on," they tried, struggling to get their voice to adopt a careless lilt. The blunt point of the knife felt suffocating. Was it blocking their blood flow? "Can't we all come to an agreement here?"

They weren’t even expecting a proper response to that. But Pink’s entire attitude seemed to flip, and the look in her eyes went from sinister to eager with such swiftness that it made the villain shiver. "Oh, we could," She said, crouching down and looking up at them with sudden kindness. "Tell me," she said, "what your henchmen are up to." She traced her thumb over the villain's knee. "And I will personally assure your safe withdrawal from them, and you'll never see us or them ever again."

The villain looked down at her in silence, unnerved. A cold drop of water dripped down from their hair, down the bridge of their nose. They wouldn't snitch. They couldn't.

She traced the outline of their kneecap patiently. Behind her, Red stood in silence. His knife was gone. The villain could hear their heartbeat.

"You know," said the villain. "Oddly enough I don't believe that."

Pink lit their knee on fire, broke a fucking bone, did something horrible, because their kneecap lit up in absolute agony and they screamed, and Red was drowning them again.

—

Their chest was soaked, their jaw ached from all of the punches and backhanded slaps they'd received, and their scalp felt bruised from the harshness with which Pink and Red manhandled their head.

Nobody was coming. The lights were dim and the sun was probably rising outside, and a rising sun meant no shadows for their leader to travel with. They couldn't tell how long it'd been.

It'd been long enough for an alarmingly red bruise to start forming on their knee, though. Perhaps a couple hours. Their leader’s right-hand had once told them how long it took for bruises to form. They reckoned this one would turn a hideous purple in a couple of days and stay like that until next week. If they were alive until next week.

They coughed up water and phlegm. Pink nudged them with rough fingers to their temple. Red sharpened that blunt knife with a whetstone, the sound of it piercingly loud in their ears. It wasn't rusty. It bled, staining the water red, making it glint like the devil's eyes in the low light.

Pink held out her hand. "Bring it over."

Like a fucking dog, Red obeyed. Pink flicked the knife around like a magician did their cards. The villain flinched.

She laughed. God, that dreadful laugh. She pressed the cusp of her palm down on their forehead and a whimper eked out of the villain's throat, but they couldn't snitch. They couldn't. Yes, they were expendable. Yes, they knew their henchmen looked down on them to some degree. And yes, all that they were, was a mask for a coalition of bad guys to hide behind.

But. But.

They didn't have anywhere else to go.

The knife pressed cold against their neck. Red walked over to see, curious like a child. The lights were so dim that the ceiling was pitch black.

The villain stared at Pink with wide eyes, unsure if this was a threat or the real deal. But then the knife began to slice, and the villain jerked and flinched in their restraints.

Oh, god, oh god oh god oh god. The villain strained their wrists against the cords once more, dug their toes into the fucking floor, wishing something would swallow them up.

"I'm sorry!" they said in their absolutely ruined, drowned voice. "I'll—I'll tell! I swear I'll fucking rat those guys out like it's no tomorrow."

"There it is," said Red in his detached voice.

"There it is," repeated a pleased Pink. She turned the knife up and pressed it to a vein that the villain knew was important because the leader's right hand had mentioned it once. The jugular, or something? They choked on a breath. "Let it all come out, honey."

Oh, god, were they really going to do this? The villain looked at the ceiling, praying for something to come and help them. Their legs and arms shook. Their knee ached. They looked at a shadowy, void-like patch tucked away in the upper corner of the ceiling as though it would save them.

The void stared back.

The villain choked again.

One eye, glowing gold like a ring stared at them. Then another. A pair of eyes staring back at them, familiar ones, gold, like...

Their leader’s face emerged from the shadows, a finger pressed to her lips. Burning relief flooded the villain's veins.

Pink stared at them intently, patiently still. Waiting for a response. Their leader slinked back into the shadows, snake-like in her smoothness, and the villain scrambled to put on a mask.

Like an actor on stage, they twisted their face up in pain, anger, hurt, grief. "They're such cruel people," the villain said, staring deeply into Pink's eyes. "Such terrible, cruel people."

Their leader approached.

Pink leaned in, handed the knife over to Red to pocket. "Poor thing," she remarked.

The villain nodded, leaning in with her. "Yes," they breathed. "Poor you."

They kicked her knees and heard a crunch. Pink screamed, stumbling back, and their leader shot out of the darkness, fist curled and glinting—brass knuckles?—and punched the back of her head. She went down like a rag doll.

"Holy shit—" Someone snapped their cords off, and the villain was quickly hauled up to their legs, that same blade pressing into their neck. They seized.

Red's fist shook as he clutched the villain's hair. The knife quivered.

Their leader froze.

"Get down." Red's voice was calm, but his chest rose in unsteady breaths behind the villain's back.

The other raised her hands up placatingly, slipping the bloody brass knuckles off. At her feet, Pink's body twitched, her hair stained, blood pooling around her head and spreading at an alarming rate. Her twitching seemed to make Red tick worse.

The villain's heart felt close to bursting. Their chest was still wet from that water bowl, and their knee threatened to give out on them. The room was growing darker. "Stop that," gritted out Red. "I'll give you your mascot if you leave us alone. I need—I need to fix her."

"You'll remember us. You'll remember them." Their leader carefully gestured to the villain. "I can't let that happen."

Red didn't want to hear that—the blade twitched against the villain's neck. They whimpered in fright. The shadows twitched closer. "You hit the back of her head."

"Yes, I know how to give someone amnesia."

"I can heal the wound, but the brain damage will remain. She won't remember anything, and, and—" Pink twitched again, some horrible noise escaping her throat. Red's glove squeaked with the effort it took to not simply drive the blade into the villain's neck. "I'll give you your goddamn mascot if you take back the shadows, just let me save her."

The leader looked at the villain, no doubt taking in their dripping wet hair, the slowly forming bruises on their cheeks, the steady way the tiny cut on their neck bled.

The shadows retreated. Red shoved them forward and dove to Pink, quickly removing his gloves and hovering a shaking hand over her wound. He whispered soft, soothing things to her and caressed her bloodstained hair as his hand took on a healing, golden glow.

The villain stumbled into their leader's arms, completely wetting the front of their shirt, but the leader didn't seem to mind. Her arms wrapped firmly around them, protective, and pressed them closer. The villain gladly melted into their embrace, taking in trembling gasps.

Their leader bowed her head to whisper into their ear, "You betrayed us."

The villain bodily flinched. They looked up at their leader, but her expression was blank, unreadable. "What?"

One hand left to fish something out of their pockets, the other arm remained to keep the villain pressed close like a cord. Their leader pulled out a gun and the villain froze, paling, but she merely struck the butt of it against Red's head. It was too harsh; his whole body moved with the hit, and he was thrown to the side. His fingers were still stained with Pink's blood. "You broke, didn't you? You must've told them bits and pieces of information, to keep the pain at bay."

"I—I didn't..." The villain didn't what? They knew they should be defending themselves. But their throat was merely closing up. "Madame," they restarted. "She put a knife to my neck."

Their leader cocked their head to the side, as though they were trying to spot a lie. The villain stepped back and looked down at their feet, pressing a finger to their bleeding neck.

Stationed outside of what turned out to be an old, run-down building was their leader's right-hand. They took one look at the villain's limp and clucked, giving them their arm to hold on to.

It was still a couple hours from sunrise. The villain glared at the ink-blue sky stretching out into the horizon and let the right-hand inspect all the bruises and cuts they could see.

Their leader left to pull out the sleek black car they'd be travelling in.

—

So their henchmen hadn't come because they cared. They'd just come to protect themselves. Technically, the villain couldn't blame them—they'd been desperate enough to consider spilling all the information they knew to save their own skin.

But still. But still. They'd been drowned.

The villain stared out at all the buildings and streets they passed and tried to get any depressing thoughts out. They'd get out of this. They'd clear their name. And their leader would trust them less, but at least they'd still have a home.

—

The ache in their knee grew worse with time. To their chagrin, the right-hand carried them into the lair like a bride, and the mascot (they didn't need to pretend anymore) stubbornly stared at their hurt knee, chest still squeezing, heart still pounding.

The right-hand wanted to take them to the med bay; their leader told him to look after the mascot in her quarters. As the right-hand moved aside paperwork, bottles of ink, and stacks of files and folders from their leader's desk, she went fishing for a medkit in her ensuite.

Right-hand caught their chin, tilting their face up to the light. They brushed a thumb against the corner of the mascot's frowning lip. "They punched you?"

"My tooth's gone."

The right-hand perched them over the expensive wood, their hands steady and oddly comforting. Gone as soon as they were done. "And what happened to your knee?"

"I don't know. One of them squeezed it or something."

"I see." The right-hand brushed their fingers over the front of their damp shirt, frowned, and went to look for drier clothing.

Their leader came back and placed the medkit down on their desk with too much force. The mascot flinched. Their right-hand glanced at them from where they fished for new clothes.

Her expression said: explain. The mascot swallowed.

"I didn't tell them anything," they said.

Their leader tilted their head to the side, and it made the mascot's chest squeeze. She leaned into their space and the mascot clenched their fists. "I'm being very gentle because I know you don't like pain, and I know that that would've made you betray us back in that old warehouse. That red hero knew you were a mascot. What else did you tell them?"

"I didn't—I wouldn't—"

"You would."

The mascot shoved them. The right-hand glanced at the two, alarmed. "If you were as helpless as me, you would crack too!"

Their leader, to the mascot's frustration, showed no reaction to that shove. They went down on their feet despite their hurt knee, putting more distance between the pair. Their hands shook. Some papers flew off of the desk, and the mascot didn't care that they stepped on them.

"I know I would have." Their leader took on a faux-soothing voice. "That's why I'm asking you—what did you tell them?"

"Nothing!"

"You were ready to rat us out like no tomorrow. That's not nothing."

"What?" the right-hand asked from near the wardrobe.

"Shut up!” yelled the mascot, feeling slightly hysterical. This wasn’t going well. This wasn’t going well at all. “I had a knife to my neck!" They pointed to their cut. They could feel their throat closing, their voice growing croaky. "I was drowning, and they were hitting me, and—" To their embarrassment, wetness was coming to their eyes. They felt terrible. Of course their leader wouldn't trust them; the mascot didn't trust her either. But they felt hurt regardless.

They thought they were worth saving. Weren't they?

"Oh." The leader sounded disappointed. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Don't cry like that."

The mascot threw a bottle of ink at them. It shattered against their chest, staining it black.

Their right-hand was frozen. The mascot swayed on unstable feet, head pounding. Their leader looked at the mess on their chest in mild shock, eyes imperceptibly wider than before. That didn’t make the mascot feel better.

A tear, traitorously, escaped and ran down their cheek. The mascot covered their red face. They could hear their heartbeat. It drowned out every other noise there could be.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," they confessed. A soft hiccup escaped their throat, and their body felt tight in their discomfort. "It's not like I shattered. I was afraid the moment they caught me. I was afraid I was going to be replaced up until the moment I saw you. But I didn't say a single thing, not until they cut me, because they were cruel—I didn't want to lose my fingers and teeth to people who would never come to save me."

For a very, very long moment, nobody said a goddamn thing. The mascot wished to disappear. Someone touched their shoulder and they swatted that hand off. "Don't touch me."

The moments ticked on. The mascot stared at the floor in a quiet, tired sort of anger. The kind that a toddler experiences after throwing a tantrum that gets them nothing but a tired body and a tear-soaked face.

They should’ve never been saved.

“I’m sorry,” came the leader’s quiet voice. The mascot glanced up and saw that she was not looking at them. “I have misjudged you. I shouldn’t have.”

It would be the mature decision to accept that apology, but the mascot didn’t want to do that. So they stared at their feet and said, bitterly, “When have you not?”

Their leader’s hand was stained with ink, as dark as their shadows, and they rubbed the pads of their fingers together. “You can retire to your quarters now. I’ll send my right hand to check on you soon.”

The mascot was thankful for that; they stepped out of the room and burst into tears immediately.

—

The right-hand’s fingers rested on the mascot’s hip as they applied a salve to their hurt knee.

“I’m sorry,” came their quiet apology.

“What are you apologising for?”

They didn’t meet the mascot’s eye. The right-hand gazed at their thumb, which traced circles on the villain’s slowly numbing knee. “It wasn’t a unanimous decision to save you, I admit. There was a fight. But the leader and I wanted you back. We were all divided. But she insisted.”

The mascot laughed wryly. “‘Cause I’d leak information?”

“That’s not what was on the forefront of her mind.”

“Then what was?”

The right hand looked up at them, and they really did seem regretful. They cupped the mascot’s jaw. “I knew you were missing a tooth the moment I saw you. We found it, you know, in a back alley near your apartment. She flipped before we could even confirm it was yours.”

“You…confirmed it was mine?”

The right-hand turned a bizarre shade of pink. “When you first joined us, you gave up your medical records. And that includes your dental records, so…”

“...Oh.”

—

Crickets chirped past their bedroom window. The mascot stared into the darkness of their room, sleep slow to catch up to them. The salve’s effects were wearing off, the pain coming back in growing aches. Faint rays of five a.m. sunlight trickled into their room through gaps in their curtains, glowing prussian blue.

When their eyelids began to grow heavy, the shadows in their room curled towards them, hesitant to touch, keen on encompassing.

“You came,” the mascot mumbled tiredly. The shadows came nearer. “Because you thought I was hurt?”

I was afraid for your safety, said the shadows. But I didn’t make that clear, and I let my paranoia get ahead of my better judgment. For that, I am sorry.

“But you still came,” they repeated, “To save me.”

As soft as morning mist, the shadows slithered around before their lips. I did, it agreed. Of course I did.

The mascot drifted off to sleep, safe and snug.

#secret santa #kyles.writing #so sorry. if the dynamic is weird. i tried to cook #AND SORRY THAT ITS LONG OH GOD 4K WORDS 💀#omfg but shes done 😭😭😭 FINALLY #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #villain x villain #mascot x villain #mascot x villain x right hand #if you squint #i tried to cook as i said #hero x hero #if you squint marginally less #theyre kinda....idk #pink x red #kaiwewi

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felassan · 1 year ago

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Last week Mark Darrah did a Q&A video on his YouTube channel Mark Darrah on Games, called "15K Subs - Q&A". In case it's useful to anyone e.g. for accessibility reasons, here are some notes. The full video can be watched here [<- source link].

(Some of the questions answered were leftover from his previous Q&A video in this series from some time ago, during which time he had left BioWare and had not yet started his consultant work with BioWare.)

---

Dragon Age: Dreadwolf, the DA:D development era at BioWare & related topics

"I'm still consulting with BioWare."

Q. Were there any plans to make Dragon Age games in other genres, like an MMO? A. "Not really. What actually happened was during Joplin development, as we were being squeezed and people were being stolen onto other projects like Mass Effect: Andromeda and Anthem, I actually put a Twitter poll up at one point, just sort've gauging the interest. There was never any people against it, it was really nothing more than that, just to see what the appetite was for something like that. But no development was ever done." Q. Are you looking forward to playing Dragon Age: Dreadwolf? A. "I mean, I'm not really completely on the outside anymore. I'm working with BioWare as a consultant. So when this question was originally asked I was on the outside. Yeah, I mean, that was a pretty interesting thing to look forward to, I know a lot more now than I did then. So my answer I guess is not really relevant anymore, but at the time, yeah, I would say so."

Q. At this point would it be better for the Dragon Age IP to be sold off and taken by another studio such as Larian? A. "I don't think, first of all that's never gonna happen. EA doesn't really sell off IPs. I think that it's in a good place, it's got support from EA and it's moving towards its end." [meaning Dragon Age: Dreadwolf is nearing the end of its development cycle and moving towards ship]

Q. What happened internally at BioWare, [someone whose name was redacted by Mark for the video] started becoming more and more bigoted, and why does he have a beef with Mark? A. "So I'm not gonna talk about who this was, but I'll just answer the question. The reason why there's a specific beef with me is because I was the one tasked with responding to some of the drama that was spinning up, once it crossed the line where EA felt something needed to be done. I did a video about why it's sometimes the right answer to be quiet and not to respond to something, in this particular case EA decided that things had gotten sufficiently out of hand and something needed to be done. I was the one who had the very legally-approved language and was the one that was, as a result, responding to that."

Q. [a question regarding Dragon Age extended universe/secondary material, like the comics and novels] A. "At BioWare, there is a business development group who is responsible for looking for this kind of thing. Usually, well I guess always, there is a requirement of feedback, some sort of feedback loop. Depending on the exact property that might be everything from 'you will do exactly what we say and you're just work for hire' up to 'you have a lot of creative control and BioWare maintains some degree of veto power'. Typically, with BioWare, they're looking for deals where the cost is being carried by the people making the product, as opposed to by BioWare. This is not the case with all companies. The advantage of the studio paying for it is that you make more money, but you carry more risk, so BioWare goes with the more conservative way, where they're not spending as much, or anything usually, but they give away more profit on the back end."

Q. How has it been working on Dragon Age again? Did you miss it? A. "I don't know that I missed it when I wasn't working on it. It was interesting to be on the outside. It's very strange being back in the, on the inside again, because my role is very different. I'm not the Executive Producer, I don't have that direct managerial role, I don't have direct, I don't really have any hard power whatsoever on the project anymore, so that's definitely different."

Q. What's the best piece of advice you would give the Dragon Age/Dragon Age: Dreadwolf team if asked? A. "I guess this question, which was from before, isn't as relevant, I've given them all that advice at this point."

"Dragon Age: Dreadwolf will be only on next gen consoles and PC, as far as I'm aware." [i.e., PS5 not PS4, Xbox Series X not XBone etc].

Q. Is this [referring to Dragon Age: Dreadwolf] a new beginning for Dragon Age? A. "Dragon Age is a weird franchise. It has had to reinvent itself every single time because of internal corporate pressures. This, like Dragon Age: Inquisition, like Dragon Age II, will be different from the games that came before it. I think that's fine. It's kind of become part of the DNA of the franchise at this point."

Q. What made you want to reach out to BioWare to consult on Dragon Age: Dreadwolf? A. "So I feel like that's been somewhat over-reported. So I have been doing consulting work since, in 2022, was when I started doing it. I was reaching out to different people. I knew where BioWare was when I first reached out to them. At the time they said 'no', and then I was like 'alright, fine' and I started working with some other people, and then things changed at BioWare and then they came and reached out to me when their situation was a bit different. So, I guess the short answer is money. The long answer was, I mean I have contacts there, I knew I could help them out, and I'm certainly interested in Dragon Age being the best game that it can be."

Q. How long is alpha to beta to release in general terms? A. "Almost unanswerable. It is incredibly dependent upon - the time from alpha to beta, well first of all there's lots of different definitions of these different phases, but the time from alpha to beta is the time of getting the content finished, and then from beta to release is more about getting your bugs fixed. Some games have thousands of bugs, some games have tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of bugs, so these times can be highly dependent upon the game and the genre. If you're making something that's a competitive game that really needs a lot of tuning, then you want a lot of time in that beta period, ideally to get the game in front of people who're gonna play it, to really dial those knobs in as best you can."

Q. Why does Frostbite struggle with animation? A. "I actually feel like it's actually doing fine with animation. I think it's a content problem, not an engine problem, when it comes to animation in Frostbite. I think what you're seeing is what is being built. Now, that being said, Frostbite now uses ANT, which is the animation system built for sports, so it is different."

"I did watch Dragon Age: Absolution. I actually really liked Absolution. I'm not sure how enjoyable it would be for a non-Dragon Age person, because I'm not a non-Dragon Age person, but as a Dragon Age person I really liked it, I thought it was well-made, I thought it did something interesting with the IP."

Q. Have you added any new gameplay mechanics that you can talk about? [unclear if question was regarding DA:D or the DA games in general] A. "Not anything that I really remember, exactly, because, you know, it's a collaborative, for a AAA game it's a collaborative exercise, at least the way that I ran the project, so I wouldn't consider that anything that was in the games that I led was introduced by me, they would have been introduced by the team, or pushed for, or advocated for by people other than me, for the most part."

"In one of my videos, I said that Dragon Age: Origins went through lots of shifts in development. Yeah, Dragon Age: Origins was multiplayer two different times before it actually ended up shipping. Also, it was originally being built on the Neverwinter Engine, it shifted engines in the middle, so it had some big shifts. The difference being that, you know, back in the early 2000s, there wasn't as much scrutiny on development, there wasn't as wide of a pipeline for rumors as there is now."

Q. Is there going to be any new external/secondary media about Dragon Age? A. "I actually don't know the answer to that, that's not a room that I am in anymore, so that would be a question to ask BioWare."

Q. Where was this filmed? [The next DRAGON AGE: Behind the scenes at BioWare] How does it hold up comparing to what was announced at The Game Awards? A. "I think this is the video, the Dragon Age video that was filmed at a park in Edmonton. I think it was Whitemud Park, if it's the video I am thinking of. How does it hold up? I mean, it doesn't show as much, it's showing a little bit of content, it holds up fine."

Q. How difficult or realistic is it to have previous protagonists in a sequel game? Like Hawke in Dragon Age: Inquisition or letters from the Warden? A. "It can, for Dragon Age, or any game that has a, or any game that has character creation, it is extra work, because you have kinda two choices. You either have to move to sort've default marketing protagonist. Well I guess you have three choices. Default marketing protagonist, or you have to put character creation right in the middle of the game flow, to allow people to create their character, or you have to have some way to move your protagonist appearance from game to game to game. Which, it would be the ideal solution, but that requires that your character creation remains relatively constantly from game to game. Which typically isn't actually the case."

Q. Why did EA cut BioWare's budget? A. "I assume that's to do with the layoffs. I do not have an answer to that question, but I put it in here anyway, so, there you go."

Q. Have you acquired new knowledge you can use for yourself consulting at BioWare? A. "It's actually been really useful, for me, so as a story-shaper, someone who develops my storytelling through the interaction with people, it's been useful for a lot of my concepts and philosophy, to bounce it off of people, and to be able to come back to things that I've thought about and even written about, even made videos about, and re-examine some of that. So absolutely, working with people has, for my kind of storytelling, has been helpful for me understanding the things I already believe."

Q. Any idea what the Dragon Age: Dreadwolf Collector's Edition will entail, or how do you decide what goes in them? A. "I have no idea, I guess they'll announce it probably when they put pre-orders up. When you're doing a Collector's Edition, when you're doing a Digital Deluxe, any of those things, it's all about perceived value. So it's all about, how much more do we want to charge for this thing? How do we get that much stuff in the box so that it's worth it? Not worth it for everyone, because otherwise, that would just be the game, but worth it for some degree of people. Typically, for physical Collector's Editions, that comes with a bunch of little things and one big thing. Dragon Age: Inquisition went a different way and it gets its value through a ton of little things like a map, little things you put on the map, and a lockpicking set, and a whole bunch of little things, but it's all about getting over that threshold of this being worth it to some percentage of your audience."

Q. Do you have hope that Dragon Age: Dreadwolf will be good? A. "Absolutely, that's why I'm working with them."

Q. Do you think it's possible for EA to recover in the eyes of BioWare fans? A. "I'm not sure that it's possible for any multi-billion dollar publicly traded company to ever have a really great public perception. I think it's something that they should care about, but I think they would be better served by focusing on strengthening the perception of the individual studios. Let EA be the evil corporate overlord and then make the perception of the studios that they own as strong as possible. That would be the way that I would go."

Q. If you could go back and change Dragon Age lore, what would you change? A. "There was some stuff in the early Dragon Age: Origins [days] which was very much trying to address some of the tropey, problematic bits of magic from D&D, so teleportation, things that. I think we went a little too hard there, and I think leaving that door a little bit more open would be better. The other thing that I think that Dragon Age has been dealing with, but is sort've a problem is, the source of magic. So in typical vanilla D&D magic kind've comes from a million different places, so it kinda doesn't matter. In some other settings, magic comes from a single place, it comes from the astral plane or it comes from this crystal that people dig up and grind up and use to do magic. In Dragon Age you kind've have it coming from a couple of different places, but too few to be everywhere, and therefore it doesn't matter, but too many for it to be one. So you end up with this weird thing of like, are undead caused by the Blight, is lyrium a source of magic? Like, there's just a few too many. And so Dragon Age has been kind've collapsing that probability space down. If I had a time machine, I'd probably just collapse that probability space down in the first place, not necessarily put it in the games, but at least know where that space collapsed." Q. Aren't the only sources of magic Blight, blood or Fade? A. "It isn't, because you've got Blight, blood, Fade - well, okay, yes - lyrium is [Titan] blood now because that was Dragon Age collapsing the probability space. That's what I mean by Dragon Age is collapsing the probability space. It didn't used to be. I don't know if that was always the plan for lyrium or not. I don't think so, I think that was - yeah, no, I think there are Titans, Titans have always been in the plan, but I don't know that lyrium was always - I could be wrong, I could be misremembering."

Q. Are games taking longer to come out now, or is it just Dragon Age and Mass Effect that this has happened to? Why? A. "No, games are taking longer. The short answer actually has a lot to do with graphical fidelity, it's just the assets take longer to make. There are more things, like you didn't have as many steps in creating a piece of art in 1998 as you do now, you didn't have even the concept of materials or shaders or any of these things, so now you have all of these additional steps along the way. It will be interesting to see if, as, some of these techniques, you know, PBM and photogrammetry and these other things become more commonplace, if some of those costs come down. It hasn't happened yet, it actually just kept going up and up and up, you just changed the work that's being done, but that might be the end-state, where maybe costs actually start to go down again. I haven't seen it yet though."

Q. Can you tell us more about Sandal or do we have to wait until Dragon Age: Dreadwolf? A. "No, Sandal is a character whose future will be decided by BioWare." Q. Can I assume that Sandal will be in Dragon Age: Dreadwolf? A. "I wouldn't make that assumption."

Q. What did you miss most about working in AAA and how does it feel being back in a different position? A. "Like I said before, it's weird, because I am, my desk, the desk, if I go into the office the desk I actually sit at is the same desk I had before, but my position is very different. I'm not doing salaries, I'm not doing people management, I'm not doing reviews, but also I don't have final say on anything, I have no hard power in my position, it's just a consulting position, so it's pretty different. I don't know that I miss anything in particular about AAA, I mean there's a power in the giant team that you just don't see in the indie space, but there's an agility that you just don't see in AAA in the indie space, so I think there's pros and cons for both sides."

Q. Any thoughts on the idea that Mass Effect and Dragon Age have become too similar? A. "I would, so I did a very sarcastic presentation back in, probably 2017. They've always been really similar. They are BioWare games with a party, they've always been incredibly similar, so I don't think it's a problem, I think that they have their own distinct characters, they stand apart from each other. In the same way that I wouldn't say that Fallout and Elder Scrolls are too similar, but they sure are both Bethesda games, so I don't think there's a problem there at all."

Q. Do you have an opinion to share on why there's been no marketing yet for Dreadwolf? A. "I assume that means 'why hasn't there been marketing yet for Dragon Age: Dreadwolf. I mean, there has, but nothing recently. The policy for much of AAA has become very much shorter, louder marketing campaigns. I think that there is a lot of power in that. I think that can be a very powerful way to go. Dragon Age obviously carries the fact that we did an announcement trailer back in 2018, but I think that's what's happening."

Q. Do you think it's possible for BioWare to split from EA? A. "No. EA doesn't let things go, so no. Could everyone leave and start their own studio? Sure, but BioWare will remain part of EA as far as I can tell. That's not how EA thinks."

Q. Should Dragon Age have more or fewer jump-scares in it? A. "I mean it doesn't have that many jump-scares, so... more!"

Q. Why did you decide to rejoin BioWare? A. "Like I said, I was consulting. I reached out to them, to look at the possibility of helping them out with some things. They said no, then some time went by and then they contacted me and said 'oh, actually yes', so, short answer is because it was what I was doing at the time. Longer answer is, I mean, definitely I am interested in Dragon Age being the best game it's capable of being."

Q. Do you feel BioWare could have done more to nurture the fanbase between releases, other than comics and novels? A. "Yeah, I do actually wish that there was an ecosystem to make little games, so, you know, you make the little, you make Final Fantasy Tactics, you make Dragon Age Tactics. You make mobile title - I mean there was the mobile game, the Dragon Age mobile game [Heroes of Dragon Age], that did really well, but yeah, I think there is an opportunity there. That is not the way that development works really at EA. It would've had to have been done by a different part of EA, and, so, yep. [shrug]"

Q. What do you feel about the comments that BioWare is becoming less writer-oriented? A. "I don't know that that is true. Definitely it went through a period of trying to focus more on different kinds of gameplay, like Anthem is definitely a game driven by its gameplay as opposed to by its story. I guess we'll see with Bowie what the actual truth is going to be, but I don't think that's what's happening."

Q. Is the next Mass Effect still in development? A. "Yep."

Q. Will Dragon Age go open-world again? A. "I don't know, I mean I guess that's always a possibility."

"I'm not going to comment on any things that have changed in BioWare's staffing, because, one, I found out at the same time as everybody else did, so I have no information, and two, I'm working with them, so I'm not going to give my opinion on that, so." "I'm not gonna comment on any layoff stuff."

Q. Would it be possible to give us the option to turn off the 'screen shake' effects after a critical or melee hit in Dragon Age games? A. "Yeah, I mean you do see that as an accessibility option in a lot of games now, so, hopefully."

Q. Mass Effect and Dragon Age have thousands of years in each of their respective lore/worlds, do you think there's a space for smaller and/or externally produced experiences that explore it more? A. "I do think there is an opportunity for that, I mean that's kind've where the comics and Dragon Age: Absolution and things like that have lived. You do have to figure out to control the IP somehow. Now you could go, like with KOTOR, where you just throw something back into the past far enough. Like go wayyy back and talk about 'where the Qunari came from' or something, but, I do think there's an opportunity there with some thinking. Now, will that happen? I don't expect so because that would require dev resources that don't really exist, or going to an external studio, which I don't think EA is gonna be particularly interested in doing."

"Yeah, I know. [the title] 'Dreadwolf' did ruin the whole vowel thing. Like, I'm also mad about that."

Q. Has there ever been discussion about adding more 'drama' to BioWare romances? I loved the conflict with Liara in Mass Effect 2 if you had romanced another character. A. "I'm sure that's a conversation that's happened somewhere. Often the characters are, each character is written by a different writer, so when they interact that can become a little bit more complicated, but yeah, there's certainly interesting things to be potentially done there."

Q. How involved are you as a Creative Lead on marketing titles? Do you have input into the creation of trailers? A. "Yes, usually there's some degree of input in trailers, but at EA they're usually done by a central group, so it's influence more than necessarily even veto. Probably the Executive Producer has veto power if necessary, but not direct creative control, they're done by a different group."

"I won't be working on [his game, High Tea on the High Seas] until my contract with BioWare is over, I expect."

"I love the modding community. We don't really support them very much, but I think there's a lot of power there for sure."

Q. Do you think BioWare should make non-linear games like Baldur's Gate 3 or stick with what they have always done before? A. "I think that there is, BioWare used to do more 'campfires in the dark', so more, like, 'I know you got here, but I don't know how', and I think that we should return to that more, at least for the side content. I think that the follower content is where BioWare's strength remains and will remain, and I think that deserves to be done in whatever way fits the storytelling that we're trying to do."

Q. Do you think the Dragon Age series should have more musical numbers in the game? A. "Yes I do."

Q. Is there any animosity between BioWare teams? A. "There has been, in the past. I don't think there is now, but there has been in the past, for sure."

Q. Do you regret allowing the player to kill certain characters? How much does that complicate future titles? A. "It makes future titles really complicated. In Dragon Age: Inquisition trying to find a Warden was like, basically they all could be dead, that's why you end up with mustache, Stroud, because literally everyone else could be dead. I don't regret it though, I think it's good to do that kind of thing when you can, it adds extra impact. You just have to live with the consequences of it."

Q. Is there room when AAA games are being developed for smaller projects to get made in the same studio? A. "It depends on the studio. Within BioWare, basically no, because the big AAA things just suck all the life out of it, but I've seen it work at some places where they have protection to keep the little things working and alive. So it's possible, but I don't think it could work at BioWare because I think they would just end up getting starved out by the bigger titles."

Q. Do you think BioWare is going to innovate, or are they trying to make something standard? A. "I mean all games contain innovation, so I'm not sure what your question is there, so yes."

Q. Was there any general reaction that BioWare had to Cyberpunk: Edgerunners? A. "Nothing that I'm aware of. I'm sure that people watched it and had thoughts, but nothing that I've heard."

Q. Do you believe marketing campaigns that are started too early, with features that don't make it into the final product are deceptive and counter-productive because they create false expectations? A. "So I do believe in shorter, louder marketing campaigns in general. There are cases where ya gotta go out and ya gotta start building expectations for your title, but when you're out there for a long time, and you're showing gameplay, you're going to show things that end up getting cut. And I don't think, so, are they counterproductive? No, I don't think they are, because most people don't remember, they just remember they were excited, the thing they saw two years ago. They don't remember that it showed something that ended up getting cut. Do they cause a little bit of internet drama? Sure. But I don't think that they're counterproductive. I think in the cases where you have to do them, where you're repairing a relationship or you need to build up a new IP or whatever, they can be useful. Are you gonna get yourself into trouble? For sure, but, still worth doing."

"Shorter marketing campaigns are super effective, but there are cases where you need a longer conversation with your potential fans."

Q. Do you see Dragon Age as a franchises headed towards a linear end, or more of a world for stories that expand in different directions? A. "I don't know that we'll ever see Dragon Age kind've branch into a bunch of different things. So, like, will there be a main title that continues to basically be the line of canon, that's, probably, yes. That's probably what will happen. It is a franchise that is much more about its world than Mass Effect, and much less about its characters, so I get your point, but I don't think we'll ever see, like, several different parallel storylines going at once."

Q. Without a remake or remaster [of previous Dragon Age games] what would you pitch to onboard people in the Dragon Age franchise? A. "I mean hopefully Dragon Age: Dreadwolf is a perfectly reasonable on-boarding point. The games are designed to be able to be consumed starting with any of them, so hopefully that remains the case."

Q. Why did you not teach anyone at BioWare the true art of Twitter teasing and trolling before you left, because your skills was legendary, and it has not been the same since? A. "So I think, I only got to be on Twitter the way I was on Twitter because I was the Executive Producer, because I was basically the one who decided what information was public. Which is why you haven't seen me do that again."

Q. Does BioWare face any recruitment problems due to its primary location in Canada? A. "Primarily in Canada isn't a huge problem, primarily in Edmonton definitely is. We still live in this weird world of hybrid development so people are getting hired from all over the place right now, but yeah, Edmonton was always a problem for recruiting."

Q. When are you planning to talk about Anthem? [in YouTube videos] A. "Yeah, so we're like two years late on this. It is going to be after I finish working with BioWare at this point, to be perfectly honest. It's gonna be a while, but we'll get there, we will definitely talk about it."

Q. There was talk about a "five game plan" for Dragon Age at some point. Was that ever a thing? If so, is it still a thing? A. "There have been lots of plans, so, sure."

Q. Will you continue your career in development after Dragon Age: Dreadwolf, or was it just a one-time return? A. "Yeah, I'm working with another studio right now as well, this is not my only contract, for sure."

Q. Will you be involved with the next Mass Effect as a consultant? A. "That's not my decision to make."

Q. What is the main thing you would change about how management works in AAA studios? A. "I think that question is unanswerable because management at AAA studios is different everywhere. BioWare uses a matrix structure, so they have departments, but they also have individual leaders. I would like to see more project-driven, like, I've talked about [his] 'hourglass' [concept] in a video before, where driven more through the product, but that being said, I'm not sure long-term how that would be for the people, so I guess, short answer is depends on the studio."

"Dragon Age has had the misfortune of always being seen as being inaccessible to the average gamer, so there's been a lot of corporate pressure for it to become more mainstream. And so it's been kinda questing for a fantasy RPG that is very accessible. Hence why, and then, you know, hence that's Dragon Age II, and then you know Dragon Age II's reception pushed Dragon Age: Inquisition to change some more. Dragon Age has never really been allowed to be constant. And I think it would actually be very good for the franchise to be allowed to be constant for a while, get some 'true sequels' [true sequels here refers to a specific thing Mark has previously discussed on his channel] under the belt. So, yes, true sequels are awesome, I wish that there were more of them and I wish that Dragon Age was one of them."

Q. Are Dragon Age and Mass Effect regarded as big IPs by EA? A. "Sometimes. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. There was a time when EA had the, I think it was called like, 'The Big 12', Mass Effect was on that list, Dragon Age was not, so, sometimes."

Q. Do you feel EA has historically had unrealistic profit expectations for the Dragon Age series? A. "I can't really get into the way that EA does its financials. I think that there are, sometimes, EA wishes everything was FIFA and obviously that's unrealistic."

Q. Will the critical success of Baldur's Gate 3 influence Dragon Age: Dreadwolf and other future projects? A. "It's a bit late to influence Dragon Age: Dreadwolf. Will it affect other future projects? I suspect so. I think it's gonna have a big impact on the RPG space, in some ways, for sure."

Q. Oh, is 'Bowie' the actual codename? Neat! A. "Yeah, Bowie is the actual codename. Did I just leak that? Well it is."

"The hardest part of a project for most people, myself included, is when you can't see the start anymore, and you can't yet see the finish, so with games with really long [development] cycles they can have a lot of trouble in the middle because you don't have the excitement of the beginning anymore and you can't see that it's finishing. So that can be hard. I think that is honestly one of the reasons why I think completion urgency has been on my mind so much, because this has always been kind of the case with BioWare with games, where you do a middle march in the dark, and so hopefully we find some solutions to that."

Q. When are you planning to talk about Anthem? A. "Yeah, so we're like two years late on this. It is going to be after I finish working with BioWare at this point, to be perfectly honest. It's gonna be a while, but we'll get there, we will definitely talk about it."

Q. Is it more accurate to think of the development cycle of Dragon Age: Dreadwolf as one game, or several? A. "Kind've something in-between. Definitely there have been moments where the game has pivoted to a large degree that it effectively has started over, but it hasn't always actually started over, and maybe that would've been better, so it's a little bit of both."

Q. BioWare office tour when? A. "I don't think that I can do that, but maybe BioWare will, you should ask them."

Q. Do you think the 'Frostbite is bad' narrative has been blown out of proportion? A. "Yes I do. I mean, yes it is not a perfect engine, no engine is. It definitely doesn't have the support levels that Unreal has, but it is a capable engine if you treat it with respect. The problem is, is that I think a lot of developers have not treated it with respect."

Q. Has BioWare ever thought about character DLC, for example the story DLC in Dragon Age: Inquisition was wonderful but much of what people enjoyed about the story DLC like Trespasser was reuniting with the companions. A. "Yeah, there actually, a bunch of stuff got discussed in earlier incarnations of Joplin and Morrison about doing, like, date packs, or very, very focused bits of DLC. I don't think that's still in the plan, but that was the plan at one point."

Q. What would you say to fans of Dragon Age that are worried about Dreadwolf right now? A. "I'd say keep paying attention, and hopefully BioWare give you confidence."

Q. Do Dragon Age: Dreadwolf leaks hurt any team morale? A. "It can, depends on the leak, it can, for sure."

[source and full video link]

Other notes from the video are collected under the cut due to length:

Q. What's something from Baldur's Gate 3 that may not be obvious to players that you've seen and said 'wow, Larian really figured something out that I wish we, BioWare, had been able to do'? A. "The big thing that Larian is doing that is missing from most other modern games is they are, Failbetter Games calls it 'campfires in the dark', which is, a lot of their plot scripting is based upon reacting to where you are in the moment as opposed to the path you use to get there. What that means is you can do almost anything, because the game doesn't really care how you did it. If you're Matt Mercer and you pile up a bunch of boxes and then teleport into a keep, and bypass the entire plot of getting in there, once you're in the keep, the keep is like, 'okay, you're here, I don't know how you did it, but whatever, we'll just go from here'. And, two things. One, it makes for incredibly robust scripting. The game is able to not fall apart as you do things that it wasn't expecting, because to some degree it's not really expecting things as much. Two, it's just letting you do much more as a result. Now you are giving up a certain degree of reactivity for that, but it's a very powerful tool that I think has been largely set aside by most other developers."

"I think there's definitely some interesting avenues to be taken with your party members having relationships with each other and interacting with each other. It gives them more life. It makes them more believable, that they're not just there waiting for you to come and talk to them and otherwise they're completely static. I think having them interact with each other definitely helps make them more believable."

"One of the, I would say, biggest mistakes of Dragon Age II is the fact that you always have to fight both final antagonists, regardless of which path you decided to do, and that's a decision coming from 'we don't want to waste our content. We want people to see this stuff we spent all this time on'. So some of it is about just being willing to commit to the concept of, there is content that people won't see. It helps, at least it helps me a little bit to remember that most people aren't gonna even finish your game, so arguably the end is a branch that most people won't see." "Honestly, to a large degree, let the creatives guide the way. If they're excited about writing it, if they're excited about scripting it, let them do it. Maybe you do a much simpler version [of the hypothetical cutscene being discussed, re: branching content and zots/resources], but you can still do it."

"I've never played a game of the Dragon Age TTRPG. How much was the Dragon Age team involved in the creation of the rules? Not at all. That was created entirely by Green Ronin. That was their system entirely and I think they've used it for other things since then. I like that it exists. I like that there is a, something that signals that Dragon Age is an RPG. Now I think I would be pushing to make a 5th edition supplement for Dragon Age, rather than a standalone RPG, but at the time, it was the right call, I'd say."

Q. As a producer, how have you mitigated decision fatigue for you or your team throughout closing a project? A. "So one of the reasons why I actually advocate so strongly for triage is that triage is a forum through which you can answer a lot of questions, especially at the end of a project, the closing parts of a project. You're not going to avoid making decisions. Finaling a project is making thousands of decisions in rapid succession, but you can take a little bit of the burden off individual team members by helping them with that decision-making, or when necessary making decisions yourself. Triage also lets you get a group of people together. Making decisions as a group, if you've worked together for a while, can be faster, can be less draining as well."

"I really believe in some degree of developing out loud. I don't know how practical Larian's style of, 'go into Early Access for three years and develop it with the community' is, for most studios, especially the publicly traded ones, but I do think some form of discourse with the community is incredibly valuable. Are we gonna see it? I hope so, but I do think that a lot of studios have developed a very secretive, private kind of stance. For good reason. It's a lot of work to keep this discourse running, to keep it from turning toxic, to keep the conversation going. I think it's worth it, but there's work there, for sure." [I think BioWare are a publicly traded company]

"I could be wrong, but I feel like we're starting to see DLC in singleplayer games be a thing of the past. It seems like it's fading away. I think we may not see very much [of this] three years from now. Will it then circle back around, come back around? I suspect it will, but that's what I'm noticing."

[on the game industry in general] "We've had a lot of layoffs this year, so definitely there's been volatility this year, but we have, as the industry has grown up, it has become more risk-averse, at least in the AAA space, it's become more expensive, things have taken longer, but you do see less, sort've pulsing - you see less AAA games shipping and then the entire studio being shut down. It does still happen, but I do think you are seeing less of it. I think it's partly just, becoming more and more a business."

"I do not think Mass Effect 3 will ever be open-sourced."

"If I was given a large budget and asked to create a 'Dragon Age Legendary Edition', I think if I was given that task, the big thing would be, I think for Dragon Age: Origins, you have only two choices. Once you start going in there, you gotta go so deep, that I would go remaster, and just pretty it up, and let all its warts be its warts. Maybe take another crack at the console controls, and like getting tactical camera on the consoles, if I could, but largely just prettying it up. Dragon Age II, I'd be really tempted to see if you could make Orsino an optional fight, otherwise, probably it's fine. Dragon Age: Inquisition, Hinterlands, actively pushing you out of the Hinterlands much more quickly, not cutting anything from it, but definitely making it more clear that there is a critical path, because the pacing is kind've off there. Reducing the amount of Influence you need to unlock things so you can get through it a little more quickly."

"Dragon Age: Origins was originally planned as one game with no sequels. That was the original plan, which is why the end of Dragon Age: Origins has weird branching epilogue structure, is because it was never intended to be a game with sequels. You're always going to, that's a lesson for the world, always assume that you're going to potentially have sequels. So, it's not that you should leave a bunch of threads, but don't make sequels incredibly difficult to have."

"Dragon Age: Inquisition basically only had eight spells because of console convenience, yeah, basically, it's designed around its console controls for sure."

Q. Was there ever a significance to the Amell [blood]line? Like the Warden and Champion being related? A. "I don't know the answer to that question. I mean, there are often things that are planned and then executed, but also things where convenient plot hooks are picked up and taken in different ways. So sometimes things are planned years in advance and sometimes they just look that way."

"As far as I can remember, Leliana's lyrium ghost was just a quantum thing. It's just because we wanted Leliana in Dragon Age: Inquisition and Leliana could be dead. I mean it kinda makes sense, because the only place that Leliana could die in Dragon Age: Origins was at the Urn, so, sure, the Urn did it."

Q. If Dragon Age: Origins ever gets a remake, would a lot more of the problematic elements be removed? A. "So that's, ultimately what it comes down to, I think if you did a Dragon Age: Origins remaster, you wouldn't, you would just put a fresh coat of paint on it and that would be what you would do. But if you start to do a remake, I think it becomes necessary to start to open up some of those conversations, and that could be a lot, which is honestly one of the things that probably is causing hesitation on doing a remaster, or a remake in that case."

Q. If a fan writes an incredibly good idea on a forum or social media, is BioWare banned from implementing their idea? A. "It depends. If it's just like, 'I put an idea out on a Twitter post', no, you're basically releasing that idea to the public by that kind of post, but we don't, but BioWare doesn't, so I guess no, I guess, short answer no, because in that case it's like, well you just gave that to everybody. If it's a bit of fan literature, nobody's reading it, it's just going in the garbage, so no, so in that case nobody knows what's in that piece of literature, so, no."

"Will Dragon Age: II and Dragon Age: Origins ever come to PS5? I don't know. I mean that would basically require a remaster of some sort."

Q. If you had free reign what's the coolest, most ridiculous thing you would put into a physical Collector's Edition of the game? A. "So, I did, on Anthem, I did push for this, and I wish we'd done it, I did push for doing, because we had the studio that made the physical versions of the Javelin suits for that one EA Play. I did push for a $55,000 Collector's Edition, where you got one of those suits. Obviously we didn't do that."

Q. Would you say it’s harder to import decisions in a series like Dragon Age or Mass Effect? I bet it’s harder when each game has a different protagonist. A. "Actually, so, Dragon Age is a little bit more self-healing because when you are playing a Mass Effect, so Mass Effect 1, 2, 3, a lot of what you care about is the interpersonal stuff. When you're moving from Dragon Age: Origins to Dragon Age II, you don't really care about any of that interpersonal stuff, because it's a different character. I mean, you care, but it doesn't, the game doesn't need to reflect it. So Mass Effect has to deal with a lot more minutiae than Dragon Age does. Dragon Age just needs to deal with the big stuff."

Q. Would the Eclipse Engine have been better for Dragon Age: Inquisition even if it had meant the scope of the game would have to be smaller? A. "No, the Eclipse Engine was about ready to die of old age."

Q. Do you remember what the major aesthetic influences on Anthem were? A. "So, this is what I remember. Cigarette butts and coffee cups, so like, the abyss. No wheels. I actually think Anthem has a pretty strong identity. It looks like something."

Q. Who's decision was it to start using Frostbite? A. "I mean, the short answer is, it was the only politically-viable answer for Dragon Age: Inquisition, so, so I guess EA."

Q. Did you feel there was a large culture change when Greg Zeschuk and Ray Muzyka left BioWare? A. "Not really, like a lot of it was basically already happening, as part, as EA basically started to impose its culture on, and also just the culture infiltrated over time. I would say that the cultural shift at BioWare happened slowly, not all at once when they left."

Q. I was really hoping for that Dragon Age tactical game. Any chance of seeing something like that in the future? A. "Probably not, I mean, it was a tweet, there wasn't anything behind that."

Q. If only there was a Mass Effect toolset. A. "Yeah, so I don't think you're gonna get, so a toolset with a game that is using Unreal like Mass Effect, that's much less likely, because you're gonna have to get a deal with Epic to do that. They might go for it, but yeah, that would be harder."

Q. I recently found out that The Last Court was made by an outside studio, and BioWare has brought in outside writers to work on Dragon Age before. Is that a common occurrence? A. "Yeah, it happens, for sure."

"Dragon Age II is pushing the Eclipse engine to the limit, it's basically the upper limits."

Q. Was there ever any discussion on showing Hawke and their companions visibly age over Dragon Age II? A. "There was, there was absolutely, that conversation did happen. We didn't really have any way to do it easily, but it was talked about."

Q. Dragon Age seems to have a much larger female fanbase than most gaming franchises, is this something EA has been cognizant of/interested in? A. "Cognizant of, yes, interested in, yes as well, though The Sims is actually even better. Understanding what to do about? No."

Q. What were your lessons learned from Mass Effect: Andromeda and why it went that bad? A. "I don't actually think it went that bad. It had a rough launch, so it kind've escaped a little early. That's probably its biggest problem. If it had released in the state that it was at within a month, it would've been a lot better received. Now it did also launch up against Zelda and Horizon, so, the number one lesson there is - when Dragon Age: Inquisition shipped and the Inquisition team was talking to the other team, one of the biggest things we said was 'don't use Inquisition as your baseline, it should be your worst-case', and a lot of the planning on Mass Effect: Andromeda was done using Dragon Age: Inquisition as the best case, so, what happened, basically its end got squeezed out of existence."

Q. What do you think about a Mass Effect: Andromeda remake? A. "Seems early, but maybe, some day. I mean it's kind've healed its perception to a large degree, kind've like Dragon Age II but for different reasons, it's not seen as as bad as it was seen at launch, so, I think there's a market there."

Q. Have there ever been discussions within BioWare of visual novels as a possible format for their franchises? A. "Yeah, it's come up, it's even been pitched. Hard for EA to do little things."

[source and full video link]

#dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #mass effect #mass effect: andromeda #anthem #dragon age: absolution #next mass effect

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solarwynd · 9 months ago

Note

I disagree a little with the assessment that ARMYs would automatically become JK's fanbase if the group is no more. His retail album sales figures aren't all that ahead of Jimin. His entire album is in English, he had crazy promo, from July we got almost non stop stuff till December, he had huge names he collab'd with and yeah with all that he did the best among the members. But comparing effort with outcome, his results don't look that great to me. If army were as enamoured with his music as they were with BTS' old albums like BE or MOTS:7 or LY, I think he would've done way better. He's still got two songs on TTH if you think about it and his streams are good don't get me wrong but his songs are still on the largest playlist on Spotify you know? It tips the scales.

The reason a lot of pjms feel like JK is favoured is because, the fact of it is, that a lot of armys don't like Jimin in particular so when we compare the way they act for Jimin versus the way the act for JK, we can clearly see a difference. But if Tae or Yoongi, who are in my opinion the two other army favourites, had gotten the same push as JK, they would've gotten the same level of support.

Anyway, in pure numbers it won't make a difference whether his results are due to Hybe or due to army. My only point is that if Hybe keeps investing so much in JK, I'm sure he'll continue to do well but he's never gonna reach BTS' level. They continue to pump money to keep him on all the big playlists to maintain this illusion that he's got ARMYs full support but in my opinion, that's all it is. An illusion.

Also this ask is getting too long but I also just want to bring up Tae. The most followers on IG, most fancam views and prior to solo era he was considered by some, including many armys, as the secret weapon since he was considered the most popular. But that didn't get him anywhere with layover (compared to Jimin and JK) and that's because his standing as the most popular member was partly illusion. If you looked under the hood it was the paid followers and views (not by him) or vpn voting and sales or multiple accounts and all that only works up to a limit. I'm just saying JK's strength is also partly illusion, constructed by the label (rather than fans which it was for Tae)

TGK are definitely the middle ground for armys, I agree. But out of the 3 of them, jk was always gonna have the best chance of suceeding. Armys don’t care for golden but they really don’t like layover. They take to yoongi better than joon or hobi, but the majority of the fandom still doesn’t like to stream rap music. Jk having palatable pop music was always gonna work in his favor over the other two. That’s why bang and scooter picked him because he’s the most agreeable member across the board.

And yes jk’s success thus far is mostly an illusion. One that they had to forge because the needed to devalue jimin. But like you said, it really isn’t all that impressive when you consider the effort they put into him. You look at the 16 versions worth of albums billboard reported that they put out to boost his sales yet he was only able to sell around 46k more than jimin who had 5 (a mini album at that). Like it’s very obvious what that reads as. 🥴

That “secret weapon” tagline armys had for th was embarrassing and came back to bite them in the ass. But they’ve always put so much stock in the superficial regarding that man and little else. You’ll see his stans fight this one sided battle with pjms because they’re still deeply bothered that jm pulled off the debut they expected th to do. They’ll cling to his popularity for dear life since that’s their safeguard and you can’t help but laugh because their only solace is that he’s more liked than jimin is. But does that mean much when it’s purely due to looks and out of obligation to do so because he’s one half of a ship? Not really.

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braveclementine · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 42

Warnings: 18+readersonly, smut, derogatory names, pet names, captain kink, sergeant kink, praise kink, degrading, teasing, choking, oral

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OC: Elizabeth Y/L/N (created so you don't get Y/N and Y/S/N consistently mixed up. I do not condone any copying of this.

"AH, COME HERE MY FAVORITE SONS." ODIN said, opening his arms and Loki and Thor walked into him. Odin hugged the both of them and then said happily. "And here's my second lot of favorite sons. And my favorite daughters."

You snorted. Odin's favorite sons being Loki and Thor. His second favorite sons being literally all of the other Avenger males as you had all been married in one big ceremony like Frigga had promised Elizabeth.

"I must say." Odin continued, "It is good to see all you back together. I was afraid that events wouldn't work out for the best."

You were extremely tired from the trip so you retired back to your room while the others settled in the banquet room.

Elizabeth had recovered perfectly and was in as good spirits as ever. Virtus Auctor was in custody and Nick Fury had grilled him before shipping him off to the raft. Apparently, he was a shapeshifter so he had to be watched carefully.

The way that he had found your sister was through a tracking device that had been put inside of her when she had first been taken. She had to undergo surgery, which had resulted in Stephen passing out from the pain of them operating directly on his soulmate mark. But once the tracking device was out, Bucky took great pleasure in destroying it.

Elizabeth had also agreed to being part of the 'Sexvengers' as Clint had decided to call the group. She had seemed extremely disturbed by some nightmares she'd had before her heart had failed her and didn't want to not take part in it.

You weren't sure if that was a good reason to take part in something you didn't know if she wanted to be part of in the first place, but she couldn't be deterred.

Your room was right next to Thor's, even with adjoining doors. You immediately collapsed on the bed, and fell fast asleep.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"YOU SURE DOLL?" BUCKY ASKED GENTLY as Elizabeth stumbled over her words, blushing darkly. "You know you don't have to prove anything to Stevie and I?"

"I want to." Elizabeth mumbled, looking down at the floor.

"No." Steve said, cupping her chin and making her stare directly into his eyes. "You gotta tell me for sure you want to do this. Look me in the eye. I don't want to push you."

"I want you." Elizabeth replied fiercely, blushing.

"Alright." Steve kissed her gently and then looked at Bucky, "Start stripping."

Elizabeth felt her knees turn to water at the simple command. And she felt herself grow more aroused than before as she watched Bucky comply.

She hadn't approached Steve and Bucky because she felt she had something to prove. She truly did want to bond with them. She knew Bucky had caught her when she'd collapsed. She knew that Steve and Bucky loved her.

Bucky had been extremely affectionate with her in the hospital and during recovery. He did her hair every single day and gave her sweet kisses. Steve was the one that pushed her in her physical therapy and one of the reasons- besides Frigga of course- that she recovered so quickly.

Oh, and Bucky also let her eat things she wasn't allowed to eat during recovery.

Steve himself stripped, before he removed her clothes from her body. He nipped at her skin gently while caressing her.

Bucky moved to lay down on the bed with his back against the headboard. Steve picked Elizabeth up and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Steve laid her down on the bed, kneeling before he started to lap at her cunt. Elizabeth's breath hitched in her throat, her hands grasping the bed sheets. She let out a shout of euphoria that left a ringing in her ears, and it didn't help that Steve was eating her out like a man starved.

She looked upside down at Bucky who immediately moved his hands to her hair. He released her hair from her long braids, shaking the strands out.

He plunged his hands into her hair before bending over and kissing her at the same time Steve sucked her clit in between his teeth. She squealed into his mouth and then he was murmuring against her ear, "God I love you doll."

Elizabeth shook as she released into Steve's mouth, gasping wildly against Bucky's mouth.

"Your turn." Steve said lowly, licking his lips as he pulled away slowly.

Bucky kissed Elizabeth deeply again, before he shifted around to the front. He lapped Elizabeth up eagerly, plunging two thick fingers into her cunt as he ate her out.

Elizabeth gasped, back arching, hands twisting the bedsheets. "B-Bucky."

Steve caressed Elizabeth's face gently, worshipping her body, pressing small, quick kisses to every inch of her skin that he could reach. Nipping, littering love bites across her shoulders, back, and chest.

Bucky held Elizabeth's hips down with his metal hand, using a third finger now to start warming her up. Elizabeth was gasping, eyes rolling back into her head. She could feel the familiar hot flashes coming on as her body got worked up, before she released on Bucky's fingers.

Bucky pulled his hand away slowly, before teasingly licking his fingers, savoring the taste.

"Think you're ready?" Steve murmured in Elizabeth's ear and she nodded.

"Ah." Steve took her face in his hand. "Words doll."

"Please?" She begged. "I'm so ready Steve."

Steve gripped under her thighs, pulling her upwards, before he practically threw her into Bucky's lap. He positioned himself over her, moving his thick prick through her sopping folds. Elizabeth's breath hitched at the way they were treating her- like a literal doll. Bucky's hands came up to mess with her breasts.

Steve plunged in swiftly, Elizabeth's back arching, pushing her soft mounds into Bucky's hands. She cried out in pleasure, which enticed Steve to fuck her faster.

In her attempt to close her thighs from the overwhelming pleasure, Bucky grasped her thighs in his hands, pulling them further apart, before moving his left hand closer, circling her clit in a teasing motion.

"Captain please." Elizabeth begged, a hand reaching out, grasping Steve's dirty blond hair in one hand, the other groping, trying to find Bucky's metal arm.

Steve's prick twitched inside of her at his title, something he had never been called in bed before by anyone. Everyone called him Steve, sweetheart, or doll. And hearing his title fall from his soulmates' lips was what caused him to snap his hips harder than he had before, releasing into her immediately. He felt her orgasm wash over him in sync.

"Good girl." He groaned, capturing her lips with his.

Steve pulled from her warmth gently, before pulling her into his arms. Holding her body weight with no problems, he settled her down on Bucky's standing prick. She whimpered, hands going straight to Bucky's chest as his girth stretched her walls.

Bucky rolled straight over to pin her into the sheets, before pulling out so that only the tip of his cock was still inside her folds, before pushing back in with rough, harsh motions.

Elizabeth once more reached for his metal hand, which had been sitting very lightly on her hip. She grew a little pink, hoping that Bucky would be okay with her next action.

Bucky didn't stop fucking her, letting her holding his hand- or at least he thought she was just going to hold his hand- before he could feel where she put it- her neck.

He didn't break rhythm, building up for the orgasm that was somehow already approaching. He squeezed just slightly, and felt her stickiness wash over him.

"God you're such a little slut aren't you?" Bucky purred, rutting into her harshly.

Behind him, Steve panicked internally. He had forgotten to tell Elizabeth that Bucky loved degrading everyone he fucked. He realized that Elizabeth probably wasn't going to take kindly to the comment and he could also feel panic through Bucky's bond, though Bucky didn't stop his motions.

"No." Elizabeth whimpered, hands clutching his hair. "I'm only your slut sergeant."

Bucky exploded inside of her, white strands coating her inside walls. He thumbed her clit furiously, before feeling her cum once more, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Bucky pulled out slowly, breathing deeply. Her comment had made his head spin in the best ways.

She was going to be the death of him.

Steve was the one to grab washcloths, cleaning the three of them up.

Elizabeth snuggled up between the two of them, clearly very blissed out. Steve curled around her protectively, his back to the door, making sure to keep her protected if someone was to burst through in the middle of the night.

Bucky reached out, cupping her face, before sheathing his fingers into her hair. God he loved her hair. "I'm sorry about the comment doll, I-"

"Bucky." Elizabeth whispered against his shoulder. "I like being degraded."

Bucky's heart skipped a beat and both Steve and Elizabeth felt his arousal through the soulmate bonds. Elizabeth giggled quietly and it wasn't long before she had fallen asleep.

Steve pulled the blanket around her shoulders, noticing the goosebumps on her arms. He felt so lucky.

Because at that moment, everything was how it should be.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"TONY PLEASE!" YOU BEGGED AS TONY'S fingers pressed down tightly against your clit, though he was refusing to let you cum.

You'd woken up to find Tony, Stephen, and Loki all waiting in your bed. They'd given you a slight heart attack, as you hadn't expected to wake up in a room full of soulmates. It hadn't taken long after that for Loki to tell you that there was four hours till the banquet, and that it was plenty of time to 'play'.

You were also getting a rather good introduction to the whole 'all Avengers fucking' thing as you watched Stephen on his knees, sucking Loki's cock.

On second thought, maybe you shouldn't have looked. You immediately orgasmed and Tony tsked.

You yelped, but went with it as Tony immediately rolled you over onto your stomach and tensed as you felt the five smacks against your ass.

Tony didn't even roll you back over to try again. He simply placed a hand on the small of your back, before his fingers were back to teasing your pussy.

"Fuck." Loki shouted behind you and you heard Tony chuckle.

Stephen climbed up onto the bed, kissing Tony deeply, which caused Tony to pinch your clit between his fingers. You yelped once more, body jerking.

"Oh pet." Loki said in fake sympathy, cupping your face. "Do you need some help?"

The goal was to beat your record at not cumming, which was 2 minutes and forty-five seconds, which had been extremely torturous. The prize was that you got to pick the next sexual activity, even if it meant that they were the ones submitting to you. But you only got four tries and you were on your last.

"What was the time on the last one?" Stephen asked mischievously, hands running down the sides of your body in a soothing motion.

"Two minutes, ten seconds." Tony said from behind you.

"Aw pet, you were so close." Loki teased.

"She has one more try." Tony smirked. "And then we win."

Ah yes, their bloody prize was absolute torture. You had to go a whole week, not allowed to cum at all, even if you were with other partners.

"You're- not- winning." You said through gasps, squeezing your walls around his fingers in an attempt to not cum.

"It looks like it to me pet." Loki drawled while Tony threw his head back as Loki's hand jerked up and down.

Tony's ministrations started to slow as he was thrown into the pleasure of Loki's hand so Stephen pulled you away, lifting your hips so that he could feast on your cunt. His long tongue delved into your quivering hole and he did his damned hardest to bring you to an orgasm.

You thrashed in his arms, attempting to get away from the ferociousness of his attack. Your thighs shaking hard as you tried to keep your orgasm from approaching.

Tony's moans grew louder and you squeezed your eyes shut, immediately trying to make a list in your head of farm chores.

1. Get up with the sun way to early in the morning.

2. Go and milk the cows.

"C'mon pet, you can cum now." Loki teased, knowing perfectly well what would happen if you did.

3. . . . 3. Right, put the milk in the special container for purifying the milk.

4. 4! Go out to the- the chicken coop and you had to get the eggs.

Stephen sucked your clit between his teeth, his tongue lavishing the tiny nub, rubbing patterns into it.

FIVE!!! Go to the Sheep pasture and collect any loose wool. Perhaps you might even shear one that day.

SIX. GO TO THE PIGS AND FILL UP THE TROUGHS!

"Two minutes forty-six seconds." Loki said in disappointment.

You shattered against Stephen's mouth and he licked up every drop of juice you gave him before gently lowering your legs back to the bed.

Tony looked as dazed as you felt, white cum splattered across his chest with some still on Loki's fingers, which Loki was sucking up.

"That's a good girl." Stephen said warmly, washcloth suddenly in hand to take care of you. "Rest kitten, and you can get ready for the ball later."

"Yep." You mumbled, slumping into the soft pillows, and was asleep once more.

⬅️➡️

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sjsmith56 · 1 year ago

Text

First Date

Summary: A misdirected mail mishap results in a young woman, recently moved to New York City meeting the Avenger, Bucky Barnes. With Sam’s help Bucky asks her out then spends the week trying to come up with the perfect first date.

Length: 5K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, named OFC (Holly), unnamed OFC (sister).

Warnings: Both sisters are mostly not physically described, they’re single, slightly plus sized, nervous Bucky, some slightly impure thoughts from OFC, otherwise this is a pretty fluffy piece.

Author notes: Alternating first person POV between OFC and Bucky. Right now it’s a one shot but it could become more if I get enough feedback. Takes place in a slightly AU MCU, after the events of Endgame and FATWS (one where Bucky and Sam tackled the Flag Smashers themselves as the other Avengers were dealing with other things). There is a tease for a double date with Steve Rogers and Holly’s sister (Coney Island?) so if you would like to see another instalment please comment.

Second date Third date

📦

Holly

I stepped out of the elevator and stopped as soon as I saw the box leaning on my door. Another package. Great. This made four packages delivered to my address instead of the other address which was printed on the shipping label. Another package I had to physically take to the post office to deliver to the correct address. Another hour out of my day standing in line then having to explain that James Barnes didn’t live at my address, was unknown to me, and that he had an unlisted phone number so I couldn’t phone him to pick up his mail. Looking at my watch I sighed. It was already too late to take the package in if I was going to make it to my evening dance class. That meant I would have to take the package to work with me tomorrow then drop it off on my way home.

“Why don’t you just keep it?” my sister suggested when I mentioned it to her at the dance studio. “Obviously the guy keeps putting something wrong on the shipping information whenever he orders whatever he’s buying.”

“You know I can’t do that,” I replied as I started in first position. “If it was my package being misdirected, I would hope that whoever received it would be honest enough to return it. They don’t come back so they obviously make it to him eventually.”

“Or he cancels his order,” said my sister as she mimicked my actions.

“Ladies, less talk, more focus,” said Madame Elise, the ballet mistress.

We both made a face at her when she turned, then both tried to stifle our giggles after. For being in our early thirties we both had our juvenile moments. After class we dried off the perspiration before pulling our sweats on. We never showered at the studio as the facilities bordered on disgusting plus there was a core group of women there with perfect dancer bodies that made us feel inadequate. I’m not into body shaming and although they never said anything out loud it wasn’t hard to see their opinions about our figures in their eyes. Neither of us needed that kind of judgement especially when we were in between boyfriends. On our way out we stopped and picked up an iced cappuccino at the coffee shop then walked to the subway. Finishing our drinks just before the train arrived, we boarded.

When it came to my sister’s stop, she stood up, did a little pirouette and performed a jeté out the door onto the platform. Grinning at her I waved then settled back into the seat ready to get off at my stop, the next one. Joining the others who were also getting off we walked up the stairs towards the exit. I had to stop at the bodega as I was out of milk so by the time I was walking up the steps of the apartment building, it was already dark. Pressing the button for the elevator I waited and waited but it didn’t come, and I groaned as I really didn’t want to walk up five flights of stairs. It had been working well when I left. One of my neighbours came down the stairs with their garbage bag for the dumpster out back.

“It was working earlier,” I stated, gesturing to the elevator.

“Yeah, it was but someone pressed all the buttons as a joke, and it got stuck on four,” he said. “It’s sitting there with an open door. The super called a repairman, but they won’t be in until tomorrow.” He headed towards the door to the alley. “You have someone waiting for you at your door. A big guy. I think he used to live there before you. Something about his mail still being redirected to your address.”

With a sigh I began the long climb up to the fifth floor. There was a man leaning against the wall outside my door. He must have heard me coming up the stairs as he looked in my direction as I exited the stairwell. Even from that distance I was aware of his size, tall and broad shouldered. His dark hair, just long enough to kiss the collar of his jacket, framed a very handsome face highlighted by a pair of incredible blue eyes.

“Hi,” he said casually, with a slight wave of his hand, before he put his phone back in his jacket pocket. “I’m sorry to bother you but the post office screwed up the redirection of my old mail, most of it anyways. They’ve been sending things with my new address on the shipping label back to here.”

“That explains it I guess.” I smiled at him. “Mr. Barnes, is it? I tried to find a way to call but there was no listing for your name. I would have dropped the packages off, but the other address is so far away, and I don’t have a car.”

“Call me Bucky.” His eyes lit up as he smiled. “Not a problem. I’ll leave you my number so if any more mail shows up here, I can pick it up at your convenience.”

Between the time I unlocked my door, and I went inside to retrieve his package I realized who he was. He was still waiting in the hallway, which struck me as odd, until I recalled that I hadn’t invited him in. Looking towards the open door I could see him waiting there patiently.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” I stammered. “Would you like to come in?”

“Sure,” he answered, stepping just inside, looking a little uncomfortable. “I didn’t want to presume anything.”

“Did you get the other packages that I returned?” I asked, holding the most recent package in my hands. “I would have brought them over but it’s quite the train ride from here to Midtown.”

“Yes, they did arrive, not that it fixed things.” His smile was warm. “I wouldn’t have expected you to do the Post Office’s job.” He looked a little more at the small flat. “You fixed it up nice here, much nicer than I had it.”

“You lived here for how long?” I asked. “I’ve been here two months.”

“Almost a year,” he replied. “After I got some legal matters cleared up, I had to live in the New York area. This was affordable and it wasn’t far from where I grew up.”

There was an awkward silence, so I stepped forward at the same time he did, intending to give him his package. In the light of my apartment, he was even more handsome, and I tried desperately to think of something to say to him, but my mind went blank, and I smiled politely instead. He took the package and nodded, then turned around, walking out.

“Wait, your phone number!” I called, running to the doorway.

He was at the top of the stairs and sheepishly came back. I unlocked my phone and offered it to him, to enter his information in. Looking at it I sent him a text, then watched as he took his phone out, seeing my name, Holly, which in my blank state of mind had forgotten to give him earlier.

“That’s a pretty name,” he said, as my attention was focused on those beautiful eyes. “I won’t forget who it belongs to.”

“Thank you, it’s been nice meeting you,” I replied.

He headed back down the stairs, and I closed the door, setting the deadbolt in place. I had just met an Avenger. 🔹

Bucky

Sam was still sitting in the driver’s seat, checking his phone when I stepped out of Holly’s building and up to the truck.

“That took you long enough,” he said.

“She wasn’t home, and I wasn’t leaving without my package,” I replied. “You must have seen her coming in. Tall, dark haired, wearing sweats.”

He shrugged. “Pretty?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I got so tongue tied. Said I would leave her my phone number then I almost left without giving it to her.”

“You get her number? Did you ask her out?”

“What, already?” I sighed again. “That’s a bit quick, isn’t it?”

“What would old Bucky have done?” he asked. “Would he have asked her out right away?”

“Yeah, but I’m not him anymore.”

“Give me your phone.”

Sam held his hand out. With a third sigh I handed it to him. He tapped out a message and sent it then handed my phone back so I could read what he sent.

Me: Are you free Friday night? I understand if you have other plans. Just thought we could meet for drinks, or I could pick you up. You don’t have to feel obligated or anything.

I couldn’t believe he did that, and I almost started texting to take it back when I got a reply.

Her: I am free on Friday night. We could meet somewhere, or you could pick me up. I’m good either way. Nothing too fancy. I’m not into that.

Staring at my phone screen I tried to think of what to say, not wanting to sound desperate or needy.

Me: Okay! I’ll pick you up at 7:30. You okay with riding a motorcycle?

Her: Sure, that means jeans and a jacket, right? I don’t have a helmet.

Me: I have a spare. Looking forward to it. See you then.

I had a date, an actual date, with a nice-looking girl … woman. Bad habit. I showed Sam and he grinned.

“See, old Bucky is still there. Where are you going?”

I looked at him and swallowed. Old Bucky would have taken a girl out in style, dinner, then dancing, then whatever came from that. But I had already told her that I was picking her up by motorcycle, which meant casual, which meant something outdoors, or a movie, or sightseeing. He started the truck up to drive back to Avengers Tower, making suggestions along the way.

“Empire State Building.”

“Heights, you know how I am about heights,” I answered.

He nodded. “Yankees are in town. You could take her to a ball game.”

I glared at him. Never, ever would I go see the Yankees play. Mets, maybe, but I had hated the Yankees since I was a boy, and I wasn’t about to change that. Sam didn’t say anything more until we got back to the Tower and up to the common room area where the others were gathered, watching Jeopardy. I held up my package, which brought some half-hearted cheers.

“Someone has a date Friday night,” announced Sam. “He’s picking her up on his motorcycle at 7:30 and needs some suggestions.”

“Empire State Building,” said Tony.

“He doesn’t like heights,” stated Steve. “Ball game?”

“Only the Yankees are in town,” replied Sam. “He nearly bit my head off when I suggested it.”

Steve grinned and shook his head, picturing that. He knew how I felt about the Yankees because he felt the same.

“The museum,” he countered. “There’s a new art exhibit.”

I shook my head. “That’s your thing, not mine. It’s okay. I’ll come up with something before Friday.”

Using my phone, I looked up all sorts of things to do in New York but kept finding something wrong with them. Either they were too formal, which I really didn’t want, or they were too noisy and crowded, which I really didn’t need. Some of them appealed to me but started and ended early, meaning the date could be over by 9 pm which didn’t appeal to the old Bucky in me. By Friday morning I was ready to cancel the date then Tony Stark turned to me in the elevator.

“I sent you an email,” he said. “Two suggestions. Take them or leave them. But the first part might be interesting for both of you and the second might be a bit nostalgic for you. The best part is that they’re not far apart and you might be able to do both, if it’s going well.” The elevator doors opened on the lab floor, and he stopped in the elevator doorway, seemingly choosing his words carefully. “I hope you have a good time no matter what you end up doing. You deserve that much.”

When I read the email, I smiled. This might not be so bad. 🔹

Holly

After Bucky left, I called my sister to tell her I had a date with the Avenger, Bucky Barnes, and that he was the one whose packages were being redirected back to his old address, now my apartment. She said something about me having all the luck as she thought Steve Rogers was absolutely dreamy. I didn’t rub it in. The next day she sent me a text.

Her: Empire State Building. He’s taking you to the top, to view all of New York. It’s right out of Sleepless in Seattle.

Me: I’ve read he’s not big on heights, due to surviving that big fall in World War II.

A few hours later she sent another text.

Her: Yankees ball game. They’re hosting the Red Sox.

The answer to that was obvious to me.

Me: He’s a Brooklyn Dodgers fan. No self-respecting Dodgers fan would ever cheer for the Yankees.

On Thursday, she texted again.

Her: Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art.

Me: 🫤

That meant I wasn’t into it. On Friday morning, after several days of sending more suggestions she texted another.

Her: Harbour cruise.

That actually wasn’t a bad idea. Wearing jeans and a jacket would keep me warm out on the water. A harbour cruise would start and end at the same pier and a motorcycle would be easier to park in the crowded area. I looked up the cruises then texted my sister back. They all started at 7:00 and he was picking me up at 7:30 so it couldn’t be a cruise. Then Bucky sent me a text.

Him: We’re still on for tonight, right? We’re going to be taking a walking tour in Greenwich Village so wear good shoes. Then we can have a late dinner at a 24-hour diner near the East Village.

Me: Absolutely. That sounds like fun. Hopefully, it doesn’t rain.

Why did I say that about the rain? Now I had introduced the thought that rain could potentially ruin our date. He sent me a reply.

Him: No rain in the forecast. I’ll see you at 7:30.

I smiled. Obviously, he had already thought of the possibility. When I texted my sister with the itinerary, she sent me a thumbs up emoji. It was looking to be a fun date, with no pressure. At 7:25 there was a knock on my door. When I looked through the peephole, I saw that it was Bucky, and opened the door.

“Hi,” I said. “Come on in.”

He brought his hand out from behind his back, producing a bouquet of mixed flowers. “These are for you.” He seemed a little embarrassed. “I always brought flowers on the first date back in the day.”

I was touched as it was a very sweet gesture. “Thank you, I’ll just put them in some water. Make yourself comfortable.”

He wiped his feet on the doormat and stepped in further, sitting down on the sofa. As he stretched his long legs out, I found a vase and filled it with water. Smiling politely, he watched me then stood up and came over to the small kitchen island.

“Everything alright?” I asked.

“I’m nervous,” he admitted. “I had a date a while ago and messed it up when I had a bit of an anxiety attack partway through. She wouldn’t talk to me after that. Can’t say I blame her.” He breathed out noticeably.

“You feeling nervous now?”

“A little.” He fixed those gorgeous eyes on me. “I’m 106 years old, haven’t really dated since the 1940s and some days I feel so old and out of place. I used to be quite the ladies' man before the war.” He breathed out again. “My friend Sam sent the original text as I didn’t think a nice-looking girl like you would go out with me.”

“I haven’t had a date in a few months,” I told him. “Before then I had a boyfriend who told me that I would be prettier if I lost 20 pounds or so. He wasn’t my boyfriend after that. I know I’m not perfect, but I like who I am. Do you want to go out with me still?” He nodded, then smiled and said yes. “Then we’ll go out. I think you’re a gentleman first, and I liked that you brought me flowers, and I liked hearing you call me a nice-looking girl.”

When I brought my jacket out, he helped me on with it, then waited patiently as I locked the door. Down at the sidewalk was his motorcycle, one of those classic ones that usually cost an arm and a leg. He unlocked the security compartment, bringing out a helmet for me. Making sure it fit properly he put his on, zipped up his leather jacket, and straddled the seat, gesturing for me to get on behind him.

“Hold on tight,” he said. “If it’s too much for you, pat my front two times and I’ll pull over. I’m a safe driver and I won’t let you fall. I promise.”

Placing my purse crossways over my body I got on behind him and wrapped my arms around his middle. Even through his jacket I could feel how firm his abdomen was. For a brief moment I pictured him shirtless (yes, it was nice) and giggled then put the thought out of my head as I leaned against his back. The rumble of the motorcycle was loud, even inside my helmet but as soon as he put it into gear it lessened slightly. The motorcycle proved to be the perfect vehicle as he could easily get out of any traffic snarl quickly and just over 20 minutes later, we arrived at Washington Square Park. After locking our helmets back inside the security compartment, he held his right hand out to me and guided me to where a small group of people were waiting. We checked in and waited for the rest of the people to arrive.

🔹

Bucky

Even though I was recognized by the tour guide I kept my attention on Holly, making sure that she didn’t feel ignored. She took my hand again as we waited for the rest of the people. When they arrived, our tour began with a history of Washington Square Park, including the fact that it was a native burial ground as well as a cemetery used to bury the dead of the American Revolution. Apparently, they still occasionally found human remains whenever an excavation had to be done on repairing utilities. We also went to what was called the Pirate’s Den, connected to a notorious woman, named Vivian Gordon, murdered in late February 1931.

“I was 12, almost 13 years old,” I blurted out. “I think I remember that. Wasn’t the mayor of New York implicated in that murder?”

The tour guide looked at me, smiling. “I can safely say that this is the first time I’ve had a participant who was around for one of the older historical events in this tour.”

It got everyone laughing and Holly squeezed my hand, smiling at me. From there we were shown where Mark Twain lived, and where his ghost apparently made appearances. The tour guide had a device that supposedly could show the presence of a ghost electronically, but it didn’t show anything there, although it did on other places that we stopped at, specifically the Brown Building, where the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire occurred, killing over 140 women. After an hour of walking and stopping at various landmarks the tour ended back at Washington Square Park. I slipped the tour guide an extra $20 and mentally thanked Tony Stark for suggesting the activity. It had been interesting, and I think Holly liked it as well. She looked over my arm as I checked the address of the diner.

“It’s close enough to walk, about twenty minutes,” I said. “Would you mind if we left the motorcycle here, so I don’t have to find another parking spot?”

“Not at all,” she responded, taking my hand again.

Making sure I was walking between Holly and the street we strolled along without speaking, not that we needed to fill the silence with anything. Instead, we just enjoyed each other's presence. We did have to dodge a guy on a skateboard that zipped towards us, but Holly just casually turned towards me as he passed.

“Sorry,” she said, as her other hand reached for my chest, and I put my other arm around her. “He came out of nowhere.”

“It was worth it,” I said, without thinking.

It was something old Bucky would say. Her face lit up as she smiled at my reply. Patting my chest with her hand, she looked up in a way that brought back memories of previous dates. I almost kissed her then she dropped her hand and returned to walking beside me, her hand firmly in mine. When we arrived at the diner Holly’s face seemed pleased.

“I didn’t know about this place!”

“Tony Stark suggested it,” I replied, holding the door open for her.

It was bright inside, considered retro for the 21st century with its checkerboard flooring, booths with padded seats, and the older lighting fixtures. In the 1940s it would have been seen as futuristic with its many curved lines in the finishings. We were seated in a booth where our knees touched. I was about to ask to be moved but she just smiled and said it didn’t bother her. It reminded me of when Sam and I first started working together during the Flag Smashers, and we had the impromptu therapy session inside the Baltimore police station. Before I could tell Holly about it, the waitress arrived to take our drink orders. Not wanting to give her the wrong impression I ordered a coffee. She ordered a chocolate milkshake and asked for a starter of mozzarella sticks. Quietly, we looked at the menu, although I tried to look at her some more. When our drinks arrived Holly ordered a chicken wrap and salad. I ordered the meatloaf special, and a bacon cheddar burger with fries on the side. Before I could explain she looked at me with some amusement.

“So, it’s true?” she asked, her eyes bright. “Super soldiers have to eat a lot of food to keep their energy up. I envy you. I wish I could eat like that.”

“It’s true but it’s not always enjoyable,” I replied. “After really heavy missions that take a lot out of us, I barely have enough energy to eat at all, but I have to force myself. Bruce … Bruce Banner, invented a supplement for me and Steve to boost our calorie intake and give us instant energy, but it’s not the best tasting and the texture is kind of awful.”

“I guess that would be a downside,” she offered. “My sister has a crush on him, on Steve.” She clarified. “She’s my best friend and we would have lived together but she got here a year before I did, found a place to share and co-signed the lease. When I decided to move here, I had to find my own place because she was locked into the lease with her roommate. We’re only one stop away from each other and we see each other a lot.”

“Does she have a boyfriend?”

I was asking because I knew Holly would appeal to Steve and if her sister was like her, perhaps she would be good to double date with. That would be something, a double date with Steve that might actually work in his favour as he was still as hopeless now with the ladies as he was in the 1940s.

“She’s between boyfriends right now.” A smile crossed Holly’s face that lit her up from inside. “You thinking of fixing her up with Steve Rogers?”

I shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time I tried. Even though he is more handsome now he’s still the same shy guy he was when we were younger. Takes him weeks just to get up the courage to say hi to a girl.”

She was leaning towards me with her chin resting on her hand. “I like how you call me a girl. It’s supposed to be a put down in these times, but I guess to someone of your age, someone my age is a girl. I’m not offended by it, although I guess some are.”

Just like that Holly put me even more at ease. Our mozzarella sticks arrived, and she took the first one dipping it into the sauce. Tentatively I bit into one, then smiled as the cheese stretched out from my mouth to the stick. Holly giggled a little as we grappled with the strings of cheese. Our main food arrived just as we finished the last of the appetizer. Holly stole some of my fries which didn’t bother me at all. For dessert I had apple pie à la mode, while she had chocolate cake.

Tony had good instincts referring me to this place. It was informal enough that neither one of us tried to impress the other. We talked more about all sorts of things, my love of books, her love of dancing, our shared interest in science and technology. After I paid the bill, I opened the door to the outside and we stepped out into the night, which had cooled down a little since our tour. We headed back towards the park where my motorcycle was parked. As we got closer, we could hear the sounds of music and applause.

“Street performers!” exclaimed Holly. “Please, can we watch?”

How could I say no?

🔹

Holly

Watching the street performers with Bucky was something else. He had never seen buskers like this before. Jugglers with fire sticks, catchy music and clever repartee were just the beginning. There were some aerial gymnasts doing all sorts of tricks that displayed their acrobatic abilities. A pair of guys with tap shoes danced to hip hop in ways that successfully melded the two forms of entertainment. Another guy with a bmx bicycle did all sorts of twists, turns and jumps including some on an obviously home-made ramp that defied gravity. It was an explosion of sight, sound, and colour that intrigued him, making him so much fun to be with, not to mention even more gorgeous. I gave some money to the hats that were passed around, explaining this was probably how many of the buskers made a living. He added some of his own. When we finally pulled away and began the walk to his motorcycle Bucky couldn’t stop talking about how entertaining it all was.

“Does this happen all the time here?” he asked. “Tony never said anything about it but if it does, then I owe him. That was amazing, just amazing.”

We were holding hands and he stopped at the motorcycle, pulling me closer. It was like we were in a movie as he looked so softly at me, making me feel all sorts of things, both good and kind of scary because I had never been this close to someone like him. Most of my dates were of the nerdy kind, nice but slightly socially inept. This was Bucky Barnes, handsome, notorious, and an absolute dreamboat. When our lips met, I swear there was music. Of course, we were only a block away from the park where the entertainment was still going on, but the sounds from there just seemed to add to the romance in our little moment of kissing. He could really kiss … I guess that’s something a guy doesn’t forget, no matter what kind of hell he’s been through.

“I should have asked first,” he murmured when we stopped. “I suppose I got caught up in the moment.”

“Why don’t you ask then?” I replied, looking up at him.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.”

The second kiss was even better as it was accompanied by his arms wrapping themselves around me and mine wrapping themselves around him, bringing thoughts of him shirtless and more, to my mind again. This kiss also lasted a lot longer before we stopped, and he looked at me.

“I should get you home,” he said, not sounding completely convinced by his own words.

We got back onto the motorcycle, pulling up in front of my building a short time later. After dismounting I took my helmet off then handed it to him.

“I had a really good time,” I said. “Would you like to come up?”

Even in the dim light I could tell he was blushing. “If this was the 1940s, I would have said yes, but I’m not that Bucky anymore. I kind of played the field then and I want something more than that now.”

He really was something else and I looked at him with my heart racing a little. “So, you want a second date?”

“Yes, do you?” I replied yes and we kissed again, a really nice and sweet kiss. “Then I’ll call you soon. I promise.”

I went inside the door of the building and up the now working elevator. When I got inside the small flat, I looked out the window and smiled to see that Bucky was still waiting beside his motorcycle, apparently watching for me to appear. He waved to me, then put his helmet on and started up the motorcycle before pulling away. It might have been just a first date, but it was one of the best dates I had ever been on, and I hope Bucky felt the same.

If you read this one shot and enjoyed it please like, comment and reblog.

#buckybarnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #sam wilson #steve rogers #tony stark #first date #dating in New York #nervous bucky #what is there to do in nyc on a Friday night?

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crazydoughnutlady · 2 years ago

Text

I'm bored, take some sci-fi found-family

I was trying to write something but I got bored and distracted so I decided to write this as a way to say f-you to writing block enjoy!

***

The Terran were new to the greater Galaxy. odd beings are small and had large round faces with big eyes. Instantly making them desired pets as are from a new strange planet and are a lower life-form. As for the space-faring group known as Vinlik, which is Featherdeten for close-knit-family. Terrans had little consequence to the crew, they had heard those who would try to keep me adorable species as pets had been horribly ripped to shreds and killed as apparently, Terrans were vicious. The crew of Vinlik consisting of 4 members, Never thought that they would encounter a Terran. They were wrong...

After an incredibly odd raid, they had a human on board. It had a few things with it a strange instrument likely from its home world and of course the fabric they were so they were known for being so protective of.

Captain Lilen, a tall Featherdeten and owner of the ship and considered the mother of the motley family, Decided to keep the being as they tended to look at least somewhat similar to the Featherdetens. Just lacking the titular win, feathered faces, or the slender legs that made landing from a flight so easy for the species.

Borek, a Snoutrump one of the strongest known species in the galaxy had argued that it was dangerous to keep but the captain always won out over the security guard/weapons professional.

Whimper a Phasmon, the ship scientist/medical professor stated how most Terrans about 89% killed their masters Within 30-day Cycles The other 19% killed their masters not long after. Keeping a Terran on board results usually in a 4% survival rate.

The youngest of the ship a Buzzkin, not even a proportional adult in his species. An excited genius prodigy who made his way onto the ship by being an engineer. He was curious, Terrans were unique next to nothing was known about them and maybe they only acted that way because they were scared. There was just so much unknown about this new species. Tolvin wanted to know more…

***

Three cycles, three cycles, and I broke my promise. I told the captain that he would not interact with the Terra, but I couldn't help myself. I was curious and it was kind of interesting seeing such a tiny featherless Featherdeten-like being. So I found myself standing in front of the door where the Terran was being kept I shifted the door from opaque to translucent, still strong just now I could see the Terran. It looked up at me noticing the different time as it was not its scheduled meal time it wouldn't be for a little while. “Hello, there you probably can't understand me b-but I wanted to say hello! It is proper etiquette to introduce oneself to all members of the crew… your species interesting did you know that?”

I stood there for a moment before the Terran begin to bark back at me it was strange yapping noises but there was somewhat of a pattern to them almost like it was speaking but that's silly Terrans didn't have a language, they weren't a sentient species. The Galaxy Bureau of Investigation of New Species (GBINS) already tested, too violent. I sat down and began to talk about meaningless things with the Terran just to hear the odd pattern of its barks we ‘chatted’ with each other for a while. Eventually, I had to leave as he would get caught talking to the Terran the one thing I was strictly told not to do. “I have to go now but we'll talk next cycle promise,” I kept my promise returning to the Terran every day.

“Hello, Featherless!” I decided to call it Featherless deciding it shouldn't go without a name. “Hado!” “Did you just say hello?” “Hado! Hado!” it repeated. Terrans could mimic. No one else has ever documented to this it’s a fascinating discovery, Terrans can mimic others! “That's so cool Featherless! what if you said my name?” Then pointed I pointed at myself and said in a slow but clear voice, “Tolvin.” “Toe-van” “Tolvin.” “Toe-van.” “What close enough you're faster on the uptake than most mimics.” It then pointed to itself and made a barking noise, “Sarah” “What?” It just shook its head from left to right, “Sarah” “Sarla?” “Sarah” “Sarla” Featherless - no Sarla released a breath and moved its eyes in a circle before refocusing on me.

“Well, it's nice to meet you then wait if you have a name that means you have a sense of self which is only present in sentient beings but that doesn't make sense the GBINS had proclaimed that humans were too violent to be sentient which doesn't make sense because it has a sense of help self! we-we've been keeping things that were- that is- oh no, I've been calling it, an it! They are a sentient being and I've been treating them like a pet-” “Toe-van” Sarla's front appendages were pressed against the force field their eyes were blown wide (wider than they usually were) and they were staring at me intently. “Sorry… I had a bit of a freak-out. I should go.” Turning the door opaque, I turn down the hall and ran back to the engine room.

The engine room is my favorite place in all of the ship no one bothers me here free to tinker. To busy myself with the mundane things that keep the ship running.

It takes me three recycles to return to Sarla’s room. The other members of the crew are still debating on what to do with the human. Earlier that cycle Borek come by with a faulty communicator he has a backup, but he prefers his main one. However, I couldn't just get the right kind of focus in the engine room (Something that's never happened before) so before I knew it I found myself wandering back to Sarla. Turning the door translucent I began to fix the communicator one of my proudest works simple AI that analyzed language and then translated it. Sarla was returning conversation in that odd barking ‘language’ of theirs and I would often say a few things back. Suddenly silent barked a few things and the translator buzzed to life “…you gotta understand how lonely I was! You are the only nice person I've met in space!” They quieted as they saw me jump at the translation. We sat in silence for a few seconds before it began to bark again, “The [thing] you're fixing is it okay? it's not going to ---- right?” I stared at them then the communicator then back at them, “What? why are you looking at me? What is that thing doing?” Turning on the two-way communication feature I slowly began to speak, “It's a way for different species to communicate with each other it's for one of my crewmates but it started translating your language.” “Wow, I can understand you! Wait you understand what I'm saying now! This is amazing so can you take me home?” “I don't think so it is really hard to get to your home planet. With how hard the government mandates what goes through airspace there… I don't know if you've noticed but we're not very legal. The captain is planning to just give you to someone as a pet once we find somewhere cheap to drop you off. “I'm sorry, please tell me the [communicator] got what you were saying wrong, my people are considered pets!?!” Their voice begin to get louder and the communicator began to register the emotion as possibly angry. “Yes…?” Sarla out a string of words that the communicator could not translate, but I felt they were curses.

Just then I heard a strangled noise coming from just down the hall turning I lock eyes with none other than Whimper. “What are you doing?” The scientist said showing the typical Phasmon signs of confusion and fear. “Toe-van who's there? That's a different voice of the communicator. what are you looking at?” “Is it translating the non-sentient being?” I click my mandibles (a sign for yes among my people), "I believe they're actually… a sentient species... and the GBINS incorrectly labeled them as non-sentient.” “Wait! A bunch of letters said that my people were non-sentient!?!” “I think that was an incorrect translation we were referring to an acronym.” I clarified for Sarla. “Didn't catch the last word sorry.” “It's okay the more you talk the communicator will be better at translating your language.” “Oh cool!” the Terran flashed their teeth something I have something they do a lot around me, I think it's a sign of friendliness among Terrans. It usually isn't put with other aggressive behaviors such as tensing muscles, which are common among predator species.

“How many how long have you been spending time with it?” Whimper asked exasperated. “Didn't last more than three days before I said hi…” “Oh, you're hopeless!” “Why is that bad?” Sarla trying to get a glimpse of Whimper. “Your species are Infamous for being incredibly dangerous.” “Can you repeat that with small words? the communicator is not that good.” “You're dangerous.” “Try again.” “You cause pain?” “You saying I'm [Dangerous/violent/harmful]” The communicator listed the possible words that Sarla could have been saying. “I think so but the communicator is not very clear.” “They're friendly to me! they've done nothing that is then possibly threatening to me yet.” Whimper shook his head up and down a sign of frustration among his people, “yet did you forget that it bit Borek?” “I would like to not be referred to as an ‘it’ anymore I'm not an object I prefer to be referred to as [she/her/referring to a female].” “Sorry!” I say as I twitch my antennas in a sign of apologies and happiness. “Why are you apologizing you're not the one I was referring to me as an object.” “Well, I was earlier before I knew you were sentient.” “[Acknowledgement/surprise/confused/stunned]” “We should probably tell Lilen about this she is the captain after all. She'll want to meet her new crewmate properly -as long as you promise not to hurt us” He said gesturing to Sarla “you get that Communicator up and running,” he gestured to me. “it'll be lovely to talk and study the ins and outs of humans and I can ask you medical questions how fascinating!” He said Clapping (a common sign of joy happiness or excitement for Phasmons) before turning down the hallway in excitement.

70 Cycles later and Sarah (as her name was actually pronounced) was an integral part of our crew-of our family. She was able to go toe-to-toe with Borek in a fight. Could eat a lot of things in higher dosages than anyone else could, making her an effective poison tester. The strange instrument she had brought along with her? It was a common device humans used to make music called a ge-tar. Although she did many things with the different members of the crew, most of the time we could be found in the engine room. For the first time in a very long time, I wasn't bothered by someone else in my space.

#i was bored #tell me if you want more #I may make art of the crew #if people are interested #sci fy #humans are deathworlders #humans are cute #humans are terrifying #humans are dangerous #found family #my wrtitng #Grammarly was my editor #spaceship #not my usual content

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