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undercoverpena · 2 days

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10. cranberry cocktail

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter ten of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3k chapter warnings: SMUT. 18+. jo's bad use and knowledge of DIY. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: this one is called jo made herself horny. see author note at the end.

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It’s difficult not to smile as you approach.

His voice, mid-singing—almost competing with the radio that lingers under his voice—had been travelling out as you walked up to the building. Louder when you pulled open the door, sliding the sunglasses from your face.

A few blinks and your eyes capture his, singing dying out, leaving the original artist blaring around in the background.

Still, you're unable to stifle the smile. Not as you walk closer or as he puts down the tool in hand; least of all when you realise he's looking only half as abashed as you would be if he caught you mid-rendition, watching him dial down the volume on the radio as the door closes behind you.

Frankie had shown you this place once before. Your voice, light, teasing, hand in his: “You’re showing me where the magic happens?”

“I’ve shown you where that happens.”

“Not that magic—or, well, I hope you’re not about to tell me there are even more videos on a different site I need to watch. I’ve been forced to rewatch things lately.”

He’d explained, with a soft smile and a twinkle in his eye, how he’d turned the garage into a workshop. The hours, the pieces he’d started with and the things he’s managed to build, find or bargain for along the way. Even lingered his thumb over the height chart for Luca, the one he told you he began when he first bought the run-down house he made a home.

It was impressive then, but you hadn’t appreciated it as much as you do stepping in today.

You'd been too busy then, watching, studying him. Spotting the way he trailed his thumb across his bottom lip, eyes widening as they tried to smile before his lips as he pointed out highlights he knew you’d have seen from certain videos you’d mentioned.

Now, it's all lit by soft, mid-morning sunlight, looking homely, loved, worn in and appreciated—everything you’d expect from him.

Even if things are out, such as plasterboard and wood leaning against odd edges, everything else has a place. Just like the scent that wanders around and flows as if there’s a constant candle burning, one which includes notes of freshly applied paint, the essence of sawdust and leather. A blended aroma that subtlety clings to his clothes—and then lingers inside your own. A thing which brings comfort, until it seeps in sadness upon the realisation that it's faded from a sweater, bedsheets or your throw after a few days of not seeing him in person.

"Hi, handsome."

He grins, a hello escaping out as his knuckle tips your chin up, your smile back presses to his mouth. Tasting his lips, how they’re tinged with coffee. Frankie planting it more intently as your hands find their way around his waist, heightening it, fingers grasping your cheek.

You swear you could kiss him forever. A thought you know you have continuously, almost every time his mouth finds yours. But you mean it.

Completely. Utterly.

Your palms sliding around, fingers brushing over dry, hard paint specks buried into the soft, beloved cotton of his tee.

“So,” you say when you pull away, teeth biting your lip—finding yourself staring at him, as though his face alone answers everything.

In some ways, you're adamant it does. In others, you know it will.

A feeling that thrums more and more intensely as weeks rack up into months, as your heart flutters in your chest when his eyes hold yours for a second longer than normal.

“What has prompted this little requested visit?”

Grinning, he traces his thumb along your jaw. “Thought you could drill some holes—for your cupboards?”

Smirking, dragging your tongue in a sweeping motion across your lip, you tap your fingers on his waist. “Drill, ay? I didn’t… exactly come dressed to be in your workshop.”

“Wait,” he says, eyes widening, mouth pulled into a line as he brushes his fingers down the fabric of your summer dress that rests along your collarbone. “This isn’t an everyday DIY outfit?”

Grinning, you nudge into him, head shaking—hand grasping a handful of his tee. “No.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, voice dropping, charm encasing each letter as his hands find a home on your hips, “I’ll make sure you don’t get messy.”

A soft laugh escapes you, feeling the way his thumb continues its gentle circling on your cheekbone.

“You on cleanup duty, then?” you reply, the words muffled against his lips. He hums in response, a sound of agreement that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Without pulling away, he gently guides you towards the bench—hands on your side as his chin rests on your shoulder.

One glance at him, and he offers you a comforting smile. Before it comes over him, that voice—the one from the videos. All lightly, but sternly instructing you. Talking you through the steps, before he tells you to pick up the black and orange drill from in front of you.

A lick of warmth slides up your spine, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you press closer to him, your body beginning to buzz from the way he’s pressed against you—his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your waist.

“We’re going to begin with drilling the holes for the handles.”

Rolling your lips, you rest your head against his. “Okay.”

“What you’re gonna do is lightly ease the drill in.”

“Is that so?”

Clearing his throat, you swear you hear your name, it followed quickly by a “Stop.”

“Stop what, Frankie?”

It’s a grunt. A thing buried in his throat before he takes a measured sigh. His hand rises, gripping the top of the power tool before lining the drill bit with the marked wood.

“Being a tease—now, lightly pull the trigger.”

Blanking your face, staring at him with confusion. “So, push it in and out?”

You watch it hit him—slowly. It washes over him in a few blinks, your hips wiggling against his before he groans again. “You’re killing me.”

“I’m very innocent, Morales.”

“Mierda. You’re the opposite of innocent. And no, it’s straight down. Not in and out—we’re not… we’re not fucking it.”

Giggling, you bite the inside of your cheek, adjusting your stance as you swear his groin pushes into your ass on purpose. Finding a way to mumble an okay, you shift your shoulders in preparation. Asking, finger hovering over the trigger of the drill, if you squeeze it lightly as you feel him nod.

Swallowing, you give it a test. A little click. Hearing it, before you see thin crinkles of wood coming away from the pressure.

“Like that?”

Somehow, all beyond you, you manage to keep your voice steady. It all unwilling to tremble—even though his breath is dancing over your neck. Even though his hold on your hip is tightening.

Then there’s the heat pulsating through your dress—the warmth settling into your bones, skin and muscle from his touch. Your body remembering, recalling—able to know just from his presence what he can do, what he has done, how he can unravel you and make you become a mess all from his fingers, mouth and—

“Bit more pressure this time, baby.”

“You can’t say that.”

Snorting, the air dances over your skin as you swear you feel him smirk. “Oh, Rainy. I can.”

You swear his voice drops an octave.

Sweeping the words over you, making your body tense, muscles twisting in on themselves as you try to focus on the drill in your hand. Stare down at the piece of wood he’s set up for you until it’s a blur. Nodding. Finger over the button, knowing you just need to squeeze—

Perfect, he whispers.

And fuck it makes your thighs press together. Makes something rumble inside of you at the same time as the drill fires to life.

The noise is all loud, alarming—deafening. A hole deepening in the wood.

“That's it, just like that. Perfecto, hermosa.”

Even with how loud it is, you can only hear him.

How he layers so much emphasis on the P, the letter is still skating over your skin by the time the rest that follows it has left his tongue.

You can only swallow. Remaining aware, and yet focused in, on how his hand slides down, fingers teasing the end of your dress—a quickly thrown-on thing, an easy option that meant you could arrive here sooner.

“You’re perfect,” he says, kissing it against your neck as his hand slides under your dress, palm flat to your thigh, dragging it up, and up.

Some part of you, all distant, feels him take the drill, hears a click, before it’s out of sight, out of fucking mind.

Then it’s just thick fingers you focus on, how they slide, rub, torture over your underwear—feeling like minutes, hours, days before he manoeuvres. Before he’s forcing elastic to cut into your skin, before you feel him trace along the places you need him desperately.

“Frankie…”

He drags his nose against the side of your face, feeling the exhale flutter against your jaw before he makes you gasp before it grows into a shameless whine.

“This not what you wanted?”

Swallowing, your eyelids quiver. Some part of you, a present part of you that isn’t lost in the way he’s stroking up and down your slick folds, occasionally catching your clit, that he isn’t going to let you come like this.

Even if he's told you he likes the way you sound, has confessed that he likes watching you unravel; his favourite pastime, his favourite movie and soundtrack.

“Need to hear you, Rainy?”

“Want you,” you pant, breathless.

He fans hot breath on your skin. “Want me to fuck you here, baby? On my bench. Hmm?”

You’re fluttering, desperately to squeeze him—fingers or cock, you’re not in a frame of mind to be fussy.

Mind changing, singing, practically bellowing: please, please, fucking, please. Body thrumming, vibrating, legs desperate to shake—if not for the fact they’re keeping you upright. Your fingers find a place on his bench, digging, barely making a mark against the rest on his workbench. But it’s stable, rigid.

“Tell me, baby,” he says, softer, dripping it into your ear like honey—all encased in air that seeps inside of you and makes you forced to chase his lips.

It’s against them you say please. Kissing a y, an e and a s against his mouth, licking past his teeth, hips rocking into his fingers as he circles and circles and circles—

Then, nothing.

Retraction, emptiness. A desperate whine emerges, rising from the back of your throat until it fuses with the air.

An explanation almost demanded, but his belt buckle undoing silences you. His clothed cock presses against you, feeling how hard he is, the size of him making you clench your thighs as cool air kisses the back of your legs when he grabs a fist full of your dress.

“Gonna get rid of these.”

It’s deft, his finger—hooking in the band of your panties as he drags the soaked fabric down your thighs, letting it fall the rest of the way as the fabric finds a home around your ankles. For a moment they just remain there, not entirely confident you can step out of them until he holds you steady, talks you through it:

One foot, then the other. That's it, baby.

Because your body is on auto-pilot, doing things for you, for him. Like parting your thighs as his hand rests on your back as he softly urges you down. Your forearms find the bench, hingeing at the waist, lying your chest flat on his bench, sawdust filling your nose and stitching itself into the upper part of your dress as you turn your head, flakes sticking to your cheek.

And for a moment, an expanse of time, you forget how to breathe, how to be, where you are as you stare at him.

This man, this person who one day you didn’t know and the next you did—is now yours, all yours. Mine, he’d said in bedsheets after the conversation in the kitchen. Like that you’re mine, Rainy. A man you trust, like, lov—

Frankie, who is all handsome, broad and fucking kind, is now looking at you as if you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted to devour in his life. Do it, you silently plead, beg, metaphorically getting on your knees as he washes you in almond-brown eyes.

He’s a sight you couldn’t have ever made up, least of all this one. Fingers, thick—one wrapped in a bandaid—pulling down on the brim of his hat, hiding his eyes, casting half of him in a shadow that makes you almost moan. There’s just the tip of his nose, just his mouth on show, lips spread and curled into a smirk as he lines his cock at your entrance.

You sure? He asks, fingers brushing over your hip, keeping the fabric back, as you smile, nod, and whisper for him to make you feel good before he eases the head of his cock in. It's then your mouth parts around a silent cry of his name, pussy welcoming each inch of him, opening, as you let him slide all he wants to give.

“Know you can take me,” he hushes, “I’m good at measurements, calculations—“

“Fuck.”

“Fuck, you like that.”

Whining his name, he smirks. Because both the feel of him and the act is something you couldn’t have ever concocted. Fuck, a year ago you wouldn’t believe the person you are either. Not this confident being almost laid down on his workbench, feeling this good, this attractive, all bold—asking for this, for what you want. No flicker of shyness or nervousness.

Then there’s him. A sight your mind is struggling to process. Frankie with his teeth glistening with spit as he stares down at you, as he sweeps that burning gaze over you and grunts at the feel of you. One hand, large, slightly calloused, finding meaning on your waist, the other holding your dress up your spine, pressing down, light, but firm—don’t move, baby, stay still.

As if you ever would.

The stretch is welcomed, a dull ache answered, all buried to the hilt. Remaining there, still.

“Move, please—fuck, Frankie, I beg of you.”

He chuckles. A low laugh.

But he does, pulling out before driving back in, making your vision swim, blur. It all overwhelming. Both the sensation and everything else—scents, sounds and touch. His hips slowly moving, his belt buckle clanging and it’s easier to find yourself draped over the bench, cheeks on the wood, inhaling it—the scent that lives in his clothes, in his fingers and aura.

Frankie, just Frankie. Your Frankie—

“So g—fuck—good for me.”

Your fingers dig, grasp—his cock kissing that spot inside of you that forces your toes to curl in your shoes, your mouth managing half of his name before it fades to a moan. All breathy, doused in whimpers and yes’s falling in a verse that leads to a chorus.

“Feel so—oh, good, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

“Perfect. Feel perfect.”

He moans—low, tinged in a grunt, a hiss, your name etched somewhere in the sound—as he pulls almost all the way out, drawn out, an emptiness beginning to register before he thrusts in. Somehow deeper, somehow filling you more perfectly as you squeeze your grip on the bench.

And you’re close, all light and boneless—but heavy and alive, so alive you feel like fire courses in your veins and you could become more flame than a person.

“Come for me, baby. Right on my bench—fuck, you feel good, so tight—need y’to come. Right here.”

And it crashes against you, all of it. Suddenly unable to smell a thing, hear a thing—you just feel. Feel the sensation of just him and the tip of him hitting that spot which makes you arch as pleasure, all blinding and molten lava rushes through your blood, and flows into your muscles.

All numb and yet tingly.

It takes a moment, but your senses come back one by one, panting, breathless—muscles tired and depleted—as you feel his hips stuttering, the strained noises from behind forcing your eyes open.

He’s a picture, a work of art—a statue that should be carved by someone with talent. Sun streaks in and basks him in a golden hue, illuminating that heart patch on his jaw—the way his tongue is pinned between pearly white teeth, and the vein in his neck throbs angrily as he reaches his own climax.

You clench, aware of it, ogling and admiring pushing him over the edge as he curses, tensing, rigid, pace lost as he spills inside of you, happily taking it all, wishing to wring him dry and ensure he’s empty. Greedy, desperate and fucking needy.

Before his body finds refuge on top of yours, heart hammering against your spine—hat falling, tumbling off onto the floor as the two of you catch your breaths. His hand finds your cheek, stroking his thumb against it.

“Never… I’ve never done that before.”

Smiling, you gaze at him as best as you can. “I like how you drill,” you say, playfully, feeling his laugh rumble through him before he kisses your hairline.

It’s light—perfect.

Feeling the laugh bounce from bone to bone inside of you before he turns and eases you up, chest to chest, murmuring against your lips about a shower, about cleaning you up. And you keep smiling, even more so when he checks your chin and cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing over and over.

“You promised me I wouldn’t get messy.”

Thumb pausing on your cheek, he smirks. “I can clean you up, baby?”

Smirking, you shake your head, heat flooding your cheeks. “How are you planning on doing that?”

He tilts his head, before slowly grasping the bench, descending to his knees. Your mouth unable to stop itself from falling open, all wide, surprised as he presses a kiss to your knee.

“Might want to hold onto something, baby,” he says, writing it against your inner thigh. “Might take me a minute to make sure you’re all cleaned up.”

NEXT CHAPTER ->

an: while we still have some more chapters of these two, I've been experimenting with a few things and while it won't have any bearing on the main series, there will be some smutty-one-shots that can be read as and when, and if so people wish. they won't require reading of the series, but rather allow anyone to enjoy two people who are becoming comfortable with one another, exploring a few different things. i'm not sure on when the first will be out, but it won't replace normal uploads for them. but rather just be small little things i'd love to include but would feel shoe-horned into my plan. also if there's anything you'd love a bit more of, whether it's a bit more on rainy/frankie or their relationship, my inbox is always open. thank you for letting these pair into your heart.

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales smut #francisco morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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quokkawritesarchive · 3 days

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BLUE SUNRISE — JISUNG.

pairing: jisung x reader(afab) genre: smut, NSFW warnings: sub!jisung, noona!reader, age gap, slight degrading, face sitting, handjob, praising, use of “good boy” a/n: reposting this because my haters reported the original post LOL. also fyi jisung had blue hair for MAMA 2018 awards (december 10th). and he turned 18 in september. so respectfully get a life and fuck off my page

blue hair, a guitar over the shoulder, an earring in the lip and the eyebrow, big scared eyes — that’s what the guy looked like on your doorstep.

“this is jisung.” your younger brother said, pointing behind him.

it was a month ago, in the middle of july.

your brother had just returned from college for the summer holidays and decided to bring a friend with him. why he had to be introduced to the whole family, you still couldn’t understand. but your first thought was that he was going to come out and introduce jisung as his boyfriend.

contrary to the slutty look, jisung behaved very shyly. he hadn’t addressed you directly all evening, stood awkwardly in places, but continued to throw quick glances at you, probably thinking that you didn't notice anything.

inadvertently, you looked at him too, when he turned away. everything about him made you want to watch. sharp jawline that you thought you’d get cut if you touch it, eyebrow piercing with a large earring, vibrant blue hair, dark eyeshadow, but at the same time a beaming smile — the contrast was killing you.

fortunately or not, this was not your last meeting. your brother ignored your initial complaints and gradually you've started seeing jisung almost every day — watching him eat your family's supply of chips, play video game with your brother, stay for dinner and then overnight because it's "too late to go home". you gradually got used to seeing him in your field of vision so often.

but that didn't help the feelings you were fighting. jisung was the same age as your brother, which meant he was four years younger than you. it didn't seem right to think of him that way, but looking at the piercing in his lip, all you wanted was to know what it’d be like to kiss him.

no matter how hard you tried, it was impossible to ignore his presence. especially when he was walking around your house in his swimming trunks and calling you “noona”. you couldn't stop those butterflies in your stomach, and the desire to pinch him under you, make him moan your name. in the past month you realized how much you needed a dick. his dick.

but jisung either didn’t notice how flustered you were getting next to him, or was afraid to overstep the invisible boundaries. he never looked at you longer than he was “supposed to”, didn't come into your room without knocking, didn't even touch you, and barely spoke to you.

it was a game with fire. with such an age difference, if you were caught, you would get beaten up not only by your parents, but also by your brother. that's why all you could do was watch him from the sidelines, memorize his habits and things he liked.

you didn't notice how you learned every little detail about him. his favorite food was chocolate cake, the anime he loved to rewatch was “howl's moving castle”. he could fall asleep in any place and position, but at the same time he liked to do something until the sunrise.

it was the middle of the night when you heard strange sounds coming from the garage. for a second you got scared, because your family used it only as a storage. that's why the last thing you expected to see in this musty part of the house was jisung, enthusiastically playing something on the guitar at three in the morning.

"i'm sorry... did I wake you up?" he let go of the strings, raising his head in your direction. strands of blue hair fell over his forehead and he casually brushed them aside without taking his eyes off you. it was unusual to see his bare face. without a heavy eyeshadow he looked even more like his age.

"no..." and you didn't lie. you really weren’t sleeping, jerking off at the thought of him fucking you raw. you were going to wash your hands, and finally fall asleep, but the noise brought you here. you awkwardly stumbled in the doorway, until jisung invited you in.

that night he sang you what he's been working on. he even showed his notebook — million of neatly written words on paper dedicated to someone. the intimacy of that moment was so unusual and strange for your relationship, it made you feel special. you will always remember it.

after reading a few lyrics, you realized that he was writing about a girl he couldn't get for some reason. the girl he fell in love with at first sight and now couldn’t get out of his head.

and it hurt you to think that somewhere out there, most likely in college, there was a girl he wanted so badly that he even dedicated a song to her. you tried to act casual while listening to him sing. it sounded magical, and you admitted once again how talented he was. even though deep inside you felt like you were ready to cry. why did you even check this stupid garage?

despite your inner pain, your curiosity and desire to get to know him better were stronger. that’s how your musical nights started.

at first you only listened to him, but then you asked him to teach you how to play. and soon the night concerts turned into night lessons.

the dim light of the floor lamp, dusty boxes and an old sofa in the corner, and the two of you in the center of the room — on chairs that should have been thrown away ten years ago. but even under those conditions, you were happy. you finally found an approach to jisung, found that point of contact, what unites you.

the interactions outside of night hours changed too. jisung started to act more calmly around you. the greatest indicator of the changes were his light touches. he’s never touched you before, even when he started teaching you. but now he would grab you by shoulders when passing by, could grab your hands to put them in the right position, and other light skin contact that was putting your body on fire.

jisung was peaceful and focused during lessons, unlike you. it was hard for you to keep cool, after seeing him in pajama pants and a tank top only. his arm muscles were so prominent, especially when he was playing. he also had a habit of licking his lips quite often and playing with his earring. at first you thought he was teasing you, but nevertheless, your eyes kept gluing there.

“bb-dm-c and repeat bb-dm-c.” jisung’s fingers plucked the strings with ease, while you struggled to simply get yours in the right position.

you sighed heavily and buried your hands in your palms. everything was going wrong tonight. it all began with your ruined orgasm, when, for some reason, jisung knocked on your door thirty minutes earlier than usual. so now you were sitting with a puddle of wetness in your panties, trying not to squirm too much. you tried to follow his words, but your wet pussy was making you lose all your focus. your body didn’t even need a light touch from him — his presence was enough to cause a reaction.

"it's okay, noona.” he patted you on the shoulder and gave a reassuring smile. "look at me and try to remember the movements of my fingers, okay?"

the melody of the chorus continued, followed by his soft hums. the truth was — you didn't exactly hear what he said. you only stared at his pretty lips moving, and the way he clamped the earring between his teeth, starting to play. you were so so down bad for someone you’ve only known for a month. he was your brothers friend for fuck’s sake. and still you couldn’t help but stare at his bare face like a lovesick fool, study how his biceps strained when he changed chords, notice his adam’s apple bobbing when he sang.

“got it?” jisung stopped, a bit of shyness still remained in his voice.

“y-yes…” you gulped and instantly nodded to save your ass.

god, why was he making you shutter like this?

“okay.” he put his guitar aside. “then show me what you’ve learned.”

“w-what?! no! we just started on the chorus!” you wished you could scream louder, but it was already past two in the morning.

“sorry-sorry!” jisung immediately surrendered, his cheeks getting all puffy out of embarrassment. his tongue ran over his lower lip and stopped at the piercing, sucking on the metal.

you felt your pussy starting to throb even harder, and clenched your legs, not taking your eyes off his lips.

“i know.” not even a second of thinking jisung loudly sighed and stood up, now looking at you from atop.

your heart started racing as you saw him towering over you. what was he doing? you were ready to apologize for being such a bad student and for wasting his time. guilt quickly took over your body and you gave him a sympathetic look.

“hey, i think we can continue tomor-” you began, but got cut off by his hands on yours bringing you up.

“come here.” he said boldly, while leading you with him on the couch. “sit on my lap.”

“w-what?” your eyes were still on his hands, breathing becoming an impossible task as he shifted your body to where he wanted you to be.

he placed one hand on your waist, pressing you closer to his chest, as the other picked up the guitar and put it over your legs. then he grabbed your hands and placed them on the instrument, seemingly ignoring your flustered state. his breath was ticking your neck, and you could feel his chest rising and falling as he breathed. thankfully, he couldn’t see your red face from behind. a soft hum escaped his lips as he seemingly got satisfied with the position you were in.

“alright. try to remember where i place your fingers, ‘kay?” he said softly and you slightly jerked.

it was the first time you were that close to each other. the wetness between your legs became unbearable, your panties were absolutely drenched by now.

you thought you would be able to sit through it until he placed his chin on your shoulder for a better view and his chest got pressed impossibly close to your back. that was it for you. if you didn’t get out of his lap now, you would end up fucking him right here.

“jisung- stop…” you sighed loudly, trying to get up.

but your attempt was interrupted by his hands going on your waist again and holding you tightly in place.

“what’s wrong? i’m trying to help you.”

did he really not understand what he was doing or was he just pretending?

“can’t you see how flustered you make me?!” you nearly yelled in annoyance, finally turning at him.

“oh-“ jisung froze, blinking at you stupidly. “why?”

you were about to laugh in his face.

“because you are so fucking hot?” the annoyance in your voice mixed with embarrassment. “are you really that dumb that you can’t see how i’m always horny and wet around you?!”

“oh- i-i’m sorry…” he said carefully, looking shyly to the side. “i actually didn’t realize that- i’m sorry…”

his face turned completely red, but his hands hadn’t left your waist.

you weren’t even angry at him anymore, just insanely needy and turned on. the blush on his cheeks was so cute, and the way he avoided eye contact made you want him even more. you took him by chin and forcefully turned his head to face you. jisung gasped, still the most red you has even seen him be.

“not so bold now, huh?” you teased and leaned close to him, so he could feel your breath on his lips.

“i… uh- i-” it was unfair how he looked even cuter like that, all nervous under you.

you would lie if you said you didn’t fucking adore this side of him. it also made you want to tease him more, so you did.

“do you want me to kiss you?”

he stared at you dumbly for a second as if his brain stopped working.

“do i… noona… oh god-” his mouth hanged open as he gulped, and you smiled at his expression. fuck, how was he even real?

the room grew silent, nothing else other that the tense breathing from the two of you. jisung kept switching between your eyes and lips, while you were waiting, searching for a sign of discomfort, for him to say that he wasn’t thinking what you were thinking of right now.

but he didn’t. he was just as desperate for you, licking his lips in anticipation. you could see how nervous he got by he way he kept twitching his piercing again. god, you wanted to feel it so bad.

for the first time in your life, you weren’t afraid to make the first move. millimeters between your faces disappeared as you finally placed your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him impossibly closer to you. his blue hair were soft and he moaned quietly, when you tucked your fingers in them.

the sharp taste of metal mixed with his saliva and his scent, attacking your already throbbing pussy. it was unusual to feel something else other than tongue and lips, maybe even a little disgusting, but at the same time incredibly hot. as soon as you felt jisung’s body relax under you and he started stroking your hips, you ran your tongue over his lower lip and played with the piercing, just like he always did.

jisung’s eyes opened widely and he broke the kiss, groaning like an impatient puppy.

“noona, what are you…”

his shuttering only made you want act bolder with him.

“wanna continue or-”

“yes-yes! please, noona! please!” jisung mumbled, his doe eyes looking at you from below.

“you are so sweet, jisungie…” you chucked, leaning in again to leave a quick kiss on his neck.

jisung joilted under you and you finally felt his eagerness poking your thigh. that only made your realize how badly you wanted to touch him more and you instantly reached down to grab on his dick through the fabric.

and then something happened — jisung whimpered… whimpered! and his expression settled into a mix of pain and desperation. it was an entirely new look on him — the one that you could only imagine in your fantasies before — a vulnerable, desperate side. clearly, he’s never looked like a dominant guy, but still you never would’ve thought you’d hear him whimpering under you. the wave of arousal that rushed down to your pussy almost made you pass out.

“shit, shit!” he groaned, watching you with blown out pupils as you kept palming him through his pants. “ah, fuck! noona, that feels so good-“

“yeah?” you smiled cheekily, satisfied with a state you’ve gotten him into. “want me to touch you more?”

“mhm-“ he whimpered again.

“shh, be quiet or you’ll get us in trouble.” you couldn’t forget about the fact that your entire family was still in the house sleeping. “if you keep whimpering like a horny bitch, someone will surely wake up.”

jisung’s eyes widened at your words and he bit his lip to suppress the sound that crawled up his throat.

despite your rebuke, you didn’t hesitate to pull down his pants and boxers, revealing his painfully hard cock. jisung hissed at the cool air, but still blushed, averting his gaze. the corner of your lips curved into a smirk and you pressed on the tip, watching the precum glistening. jisung let his mouth fall open in a silent scream of pleasure, his eyebrows furrowed together as he kept adjusting to new sensations.

to his credit, he tried to listen, but only lasted for a few seconds. he thought he would actually be able to keep quiet, up until you wrapped your hand around his dick and started pumping him slowly.

it was so enticing; this pace was too slow compared to how much jisung was turned on. but he kept sitting like a good boy, letting you control his body entirely.

he was looking at you from under half-closed eyelids, sweaty bangs tousled over his face, and chest occasionally heaved as he let out the most pitiful sobs you've ever heard. you felt as another wave of arousal hit you and shifted slightly in place, trying to remove the tension between your legs.

you watched how the veins on his dick glisten with wetness, how the skin gathered at the head. the way you started to flick your wrist, with your palm sweeping over the leaking tip, made him cry out even more, moaning your name.

“shh, remember what i said?”

“s-sorry- you hand feels so good… c-can’t-“

his whimpers were too good to your ear, and you couldn’t care less about being caught anymore.

why did he have to sound so seductive saying that?

jisung was moaning and squirming, leaking so much precum that you could feel your entire wrist getting covered in his desire.

“i’ve wanted this for so long.” he suddenly confessed, voice low and breathy. “why did you have to be such a tease, noona?”

his words made you pause for a second, staring down at him with a semi-surprised look towards his confession, until the realization hit you. he really was playing dumb this whole time! this little shit!

you gripped the base of his cock just a little too tightly, and pulled away to snap at him. “i’m not the one who teased.”

“‘m sorry- i just didn’t have the courage to make the first move, you know? i-i’m sorry! don’t be mad at me!” he kept blurting out, his mouth betraying him faster than his mind could keep up. “you look so hot and confident all the time, noona. of course, every guy is afraid to approach you!”

“afraid?” you slowly asked, your hand hadn’t left the base of his cock, only wrapping harder around it. “are you afraid of me?”

jisung whimpered, bucking his hips up embarrassingly.

“n-no, no! i’m just saying that you always look so pretty, and gorgeous, and hot, and i fell in love with you the day i saw you for the first time.” he started babbling, making you smile fondly. “i only hesitated, because you are that much older than me, noona. i didn’t think you would be interested. i even wrote songs about you…”

as you were about to say you forgive him, he mumbled the last sentence in a quiet voice and looked at you with those doe eyes.

oh, you were so stupid! you were about to smack your own forehead. how could you not put two plus two together this whole time? “the girl he couldn’t get and fell in love with at first sight?” of course!

“now shut up or i’ll stop.” you replied shyly, trying to act cool, while a pink shade of blush covered your cheeks.

“no-no, don’t stop. please. i’ll shut up. just don’t leave me here like this.” he said, clearly not shutting up and grabbed your hand in his, thrusting his hips slightly to meet the movements, silently demanding you to continue.

obviously, you wouldn’t leave jisung like this, especially after his confession. he was so stupidly cute, pure and adorable. you also couldn’t wait to see how he looks when he cums. almost as much as he needed to see you naked. you were still fully clothed sitting on top of him.

besides, it would be great fodder for your nights of shameful masturbation at the thought of this boy.

“‘m close… aaghh! s-so close, noona!” the noises jisung let out were beautiful and breathtaking. in that moment you wished you could record some of it for yourself.

despite that, you immediately pulled away, forcing him to open his eyes and pleadingly ask you: “noona?”

“eat me out first like a good boy, ‘kay?” you whispered, sending a shiver down his spine with your words.

as you finally got off from his lap and started undressing you heard his husky voice saying: “fuck- that’s hot.”

you giggled, looking back at him. he was staring at you like a painting in the museum, watching carefully as your clothes flew on the floor, scared to miss any second of it. his breathing got heavier as he watched you reveal more and more skin, his mind flooding with thoughts that he shouldn’t be thinking. but it was too late. you looked so good to him, he could feel his dick twitching, aching for the attention it so badly craved.

“enjoying the view?” you teased as you got rid of last bits of clothing.

jisung blushed, but kept looking. his desire finally overcame his shyness.

a shiver went through your body at the hungry look in jisung’s half-lidded eyes, now focused on the curves of your body.

you pushed him on the chest, signalizing to lay on the back and he obeyed, watching you move up toward his face.

“fuck...” he breathed out in shock, pupils blown wide, lips parted before the corners pulled into a hungry grin. he couldn’t believe his luck.

you looked down at the hearts in his eyes as your thighs come to rest alongside his puffy cheeks. your pulse suddenly quickened at the realization — you were about to let your brother’s friend tongue fuck your dripping pussy.

“you are so hot, noona.” jisung speaked up once last time on the edge of a moan. his voice was rough, thick with arousal.

he wanted to be used by you so bad that he wasn’t sure he could handle holding back anymore. particularly, when your glistening pussy was just above his face.

abruptly, jisung’s palms cupped over your thighs and brought you down to his face. his movements started uncertain at first, almost unnoticeable, but after a few laps of the tongue, he adjusted the pace, making your mind already racing. you even nearly leaped off his face.

“hold still, noona.”

the way he still kept calling you that while being completely crushed under your body made your breath hitch.

his hands gripped your thighs harder, locking you tight onto his face. you were not going anywhere.

all you could focus on was his tongue flicking up across your slick folds. he was eating your pussy like he was starving, paying no mind to your flinching.

he circled his tongue up around your clit. your moans came out hot and breathy, and you grasped at his blue hair, feeling overwhelmed.

“jesus, jisung… what the fuck-“

you could see the smile in his eyes and he only pressed into your clit harder after the praise. he was so damn proud of himself and the reaction he was getting from you.

“you taste incredible.” he mumbled before thrusting his tongue right into your cunt.

“oh- god! holy- fuck, slow down!” your plea was quiet and not convincing at all, especially when you started grinding on his face yourself.

your eyes rolled back in satisfaction and moans were probably so loud, your whole family must’ve been behind the door already. but you couldn’t care less, when jisung was eating you out like this. he was just devouring you. your head fell back and you spread your knees to sink down further on his face. your worries about accidentally suffocating the poor guy have been dispelled as he adjusted his grip and wouldn’t let you back up.

his nose kept touching repeatedly on your swollen clit and you cried out at the pressure. you were starting to lose control, your body threatening to submit to an intense orgasm at any moment… and that’s when you stopped.

“jisung-jisung, wait.” you put all effort to get out of his intense grip.

“what?” the disappointed look on his face made you wanna coo at him. “did i do something wrong? you don’t like it?”

“no-no! of course not!” patting his cheek, you crawled to the bottom of the couch, right where his still hard cock was. “i wanna ride you.”

you could hear how jisung’s breath hitched once again and you put all your effort not to chuckle at him.

you looked at his dick, trying to ignore the way your own breath hitched too. all you wanted right now was to sit on him, feel him fucking you raw. the fantasy you’ve been replaying over and over in your mind.

“wait- before we start…” jisung interrupted you midway.

he propped himself up on the elbows and you watched him with a genuine confused look. but he didn’t stop, ending up with his face next to your breasts.

“didn’t have time to feel them…” he justified himself and you chuckled in embarrassment.

but that emotion left you quickly as he started kissing down your neck, pausing to nip at your collarbone. his hands followed the curve of your breasts and you panted loudly to catch your breath.

the way he looked up at you while sucking on your hard nipple and pinching the other between his fingers, added to the heartbeat thumping between your legs. you breathed out his name shakily and bit into your lip. it was harder and harder to keep quiet.

jisung raised an eyebrow at you and flashed the naughtiest little grin, while keeping on playing with your breasts. you could feel the metal circle touching your sensitive flesh and it made you even more impatient.

“stop looking at me like that and let me ride you…” you scoffed, lightly pushing him in his chest. he sighed disappointingly, but complied. how could he possible be oppose that?

you wrapped your hand around his swelling dick and pumped it a little, giggling at his puppy-like whimpers.

“wanna fuck me?” you teased him, enjoying the desperation painted on his face.

you were absolutely loving this.

“oh shit- yes-yes, noona.” he nodded as he bucked his dick into your grip.

you leaned up and whispered in his ear. “wanna stretch me open? make me scream? watch how my tits bounce while i ride you? is that what you wanna do, jisungie?”

his face flushed completely at your words and he brought his hands to cover his pink cheeks, groaning in frustration. “stop…”

“aww.” you cooed. “is jisungie embarrassed? this is what you get for playing with me for so long.”

“but i apologized…” he pouted.

“correct. this is exactly why i’m still gonna fuck you.” you said, smirking at the way his rosy cheeks darkened.

dick pulsated hard in your hand as you slid it between your wet folds. jisung must have been so sensitive, moaning loud at this simple action, hands gripping on your thighs again. you let yourself sink down slowly, to feel and remember every second, every vein of his dick. a muffled moan came out of you as you sinked down further, arching your back. your heart pounded.

slowly, your walls began to stretch around his thick head. the senses were overwhelmingly delicious.

“noona…”

you were distracted by jisung’s whimpering underneath you. you opened your eyes and looked at his face, which showed a mixture of satisfaction, lust and embarrassment.

“noona…”

“what, jisungie?”

“i-i don’t think i’ll last long, if you are this slow…” he swallowed, licking his lips. “i-i don’t wanna rush you, of course. b-but i’m so fucking close.”

“i’m not even halfway in, and you are ready to cum?” you forcefully raised your voice a little just to see his flush deepen.

“‘m sorry…” he whispered.

“fine.” you sank down on his cock in one motion.

it filled you to the brim, and you both gasped at the feeling. the look on his face was well worth it. his head fell back, bitten lips parted, cheeks flushed, brows furrowed. a ray of sunrise on his face. it was the first time you really noticed how beautiful he really was.

you started grinding your hips and groaning at the feeling of his cock stirring up your insides. his hands switched to your waist, helping you stay in place, and your grip switched from his chest to the arm of the couch as you kept working yourself up and down in his lap. he was so deep inside you.

“good boy, jisungie…”

another needy moan fell out of him and his face looked almost pained by your words.

he didn’t want this to stop. he didn’t want to cum so fast, trying his best to make you slow down, but all he could do was whimper and moan like crazy, which only fueled your desire to act rougher.

it was all just hot. you couldn’t even feel the cold air of the garage anymore, sweat forming on your skin. your head rolled back as you came, feeling the familiar pleasure spreading through your body. jisung came right after you, his cock throbbed painfully as he saw the fucked out look on your face. he came right inside you and you moaned in satisfaction, feeling the thick liquid spreading over the walls.

heavy breathing and hot moans filled the room. jisung grinned when you mouthed a silent “fuck“ at him.

with his dick still inside you, you leaned in, letting your lips connect. you played with his tongue, enjoying the filthy squelching sound. that only made his pretty face to flare up even more.

“you look so cute like this, pretty boy. you can keep going on for me just a little more, can't you?" you said with a sweet voice, looking on his pretty doe eyes, making him feel like he really was the most special.

he couldn’t help but mewl out a little “yes”, while another shade of blush spread across his puffy cheeks.

you still have some time before everyone wakes up.

-> reblog to support me, if you enjoyed reading this and please let me know your thoughts in the comments! ♡

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moonlightspencie · 3 days

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rewatched the update video, read some posts from both people who like and dislike the update, and just finished charlie’s (mo1stcr1tikal) video about watcher. here are my complete thoughts:

Video Execution

i appreciate that they seem to have consulted with a PR person, or at the very least really sat down and thought through their approach with the video.

they didn’t try to boo-hoo themselves.

they used a lot of positive “you language” for the fans (which i very much appreciate as a media and communication person myself)

they took accountability for their mistakes, and actually uttered the word “sorry”. low bar, i know, but many apology videos still somehow slip under the bar.

they very clearly put the focus on ryan and shane in the video. it sucks a bit that they probably felt they had to since much of that was probably due to the negative comments directed at steven, but it WAS a smart move. fans feel most betrayed by the two the majority connect with the most.

it. wasn’t. overproduced. (again, low bar, but it is what it is).

overall thoughts on execution? it was smart. they look uncomfortable, and whether that’s intentional or their true feelings, regardless of why they look so uncomfy, it makes it easier to watch. they don’t look pissed or smug. they look embarrassed. which, in an apology video, is a good thing. sorry to say

The Solution

i think they came up with the best alternative they could after royally fucking up with the majority of their fans.

the patreon solution… mixed feelings. i understand they don’t want to just go forward with one or the other: the patreon or the streamer. however, as ive seen some patrons say, it doesn’t make all that much sense to have both logistically. i think it’s only set up this way because they can’t go back entirely on watcher.tv now. good on them for giving a bit of a fix with the codes being sent to patrons.

i was still lost on how they weren’t “advertiser friendly”, and that’s where charlie’s video came in to affirm my suspicions. go watch his video for more information, but long story short: watcher is a GOLD MINE for advertisers. huge and loyal audience, engaging ads that make the viewer want to watch the ad, and an ever-growing channel.

on the back of the last point: how on earth were they struggling with money to begin with? it simply doesn’t make any sense. they had so many revenue streams & again, DO get sponsors and appear to be incredibly brand-friendly.

trust is still lost with most fans, and that will be hard as hell to regain. the ex-buzzfeed three-guys-on-a-couch model didn’t even work when the try guys were fucked over by their friend and brand trust was lost a little bit. and this loss of brand trust is fully on all three dudes on the couch this time

overall thoughts on the solution? it’s good for what they can do now that they obviously cannot just fully backtrack. that would arguably be a worse idea than the original idea for the streaming service itself. i think this would have worked much better and they would have retained integrity if they had done this from the beginning, and/or had a slow rollout instead of jumpscaring us like that. ghost files is supposed to spook us, not surprise paywalls.

Final Thoughts

a ton of trust was lost. the parasocial relationship that specifically shane and ryan fans had with them, that was the REASON for so much of the loyalty, is fractured, and for many it will never be the same as it was. i understand their fuck up when it came to the announcement was likely just them needing more self-awareness and a professional to guide them through it, but i still question how it got to that point where they felt like their fans would enjoy this to begin with. not to mention, again, how were they not making enough? why not try other options first?

i hope sincerely that watcher truly learns from this. that they remember their business isn’t about money or ambition (in a positive or negative way), but is built on the backs of their fans’ loyalty. without that fan loyalty, buzzfeed unsolved would have been the only thing we knew ryan and shane for. we wouldn’t have followed them to a new channel if we didn’t care about them and their work to certain degree.

it was a good apology video. genuinely. i’m glad they didn’t jump into it with a bandaid solution. i just wish they had the foresight to know their fans well enough to understand that there is NO way this would be well received by the majority. and there’s no going back on that now, obviously. what’s past is past. i hope moving forward that they gain a little self-awareness and that they gain some FAN-awareness. until/unless they start working on television and movies, they have to keep their fans happy. we are the consumer, not the employee, and it feels like they started somehow blurring those lines with the original video they posted. it felt like one of the corporate ‘training’ videos for my job when we start using a new system.

fans are important in online spaces, particularly. we provide free advertising for our favorite bloggers/youtubers/etc., and willingly give up money to support them through various streams (in watcher’s case: patreon, merch, live shows). you cannot exist as a creator online and think that you don’t need to keep your fans happy when it is your source of income. it’s simply how being a successful internet personality works, for better or worse.

good job to the watcher boys on how they went about the apology/fix. i hope things go better from here on out.

#watcher #shane madej #ryan bergara #steven lim #watcher entertainment

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celluloidbroomcloset · 2 days

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Hey there,

You’ve got a lot of insight into Ed and his whole journey from S1 to S2. Apologies if you’ve covered all this already (and I’m not the most articulate of people so also apologies for any confusion), but I’m interested in your thoughts…

I get the impression that a basic debate here is that either Ed is a psychopathic sadist (who basically ‘reigns in his sadistic tendencies’ until he loses Stede) or he’s someone struggling with his own self loathing and the toxic environment he’s had to live in (or maybe I’ve missed the mark entirely).

If it’s the latter, do you think he becomes at all vindictive in S2? Or is he more going through the motions of what he thinks is expected of ‘the pirate Blackbeard,’ because he’s somehow trying to cut off his emotions or is just tired of even trying to be anything else (ie himself) anymore? Or maybe it’s something else?

Also, to me personally it seems like Ed is stuck in… how to describe it… a depressive stasis at the beginning of S1, like at least resigned to death but doesn’t actively seek it until the end of S1/beginning of S2. I can’t decide though if in S2 Ed wants to take the crew with him (because that at least means not dying alone, like the mother and the cat in Crimes of the Heart), or if he doesn’t mind one way or the other what happens as long as he’s dead, or if the goal is to actively make the crew despise him because he thinks hatred and death are what he deserves?

Again, sorry if I’m beating a dead horse here…

Thanks!

So a lot of people have written a good bit about this. This is just what I think (and my thoughts may change—I'm planning on rewatching "Red Flags" today).

When we meet Ed, I think he is depressive and perhaps passively suicidal—he's talking about how the one thing he hasn't tried yet is death, but he doesn't seem to be really looking to die, and meeting Stede makes him re-evaluate the life he's been living and what he wants from it.

Stede and the space of the Revenge make Ed feel safe to express the parts of him that he’d concealed within Blackbeard in order to survive (the whole bringing out of his mother’s silk and Stede giving him the space to wear it openly on his heart). He tries to find this again with the crew after Stede leaves him, and it is Izzy who tells him that he is not safe unless he is Blackbeard (by directly threatening him and telling him that he would be better off dead than being the person he is).

I think a lot of what he’s doing at the end of Season 1 and into Season 2 is malicious compliance - “You wanted the caricature of Blackbeard, well HERE HE IS!” By the time we pick up with the Revenge in Season 2, he's moving from passive to active suicidality - he has been unable to correctly perform (Izzy invoking Stede and the fact that Ed's feelings are what have made the atmosphere on the ship toxic - quite literally his inability to conceal those feelings have poisoned everything around them, according to Izzy. Ed's feelings themselves are poisonous). Ed cannot reconcile his past with what he wants to be with who he is, and he has lost the safe space to be Ed.

I don’t think he wants to take the crew with him - his first move is to try to get Izzy to kill him; when that fails, he tries to get the crew to do it. If anyone actually just pulled a gun and shot him, he'd not try to stop them. He’s goading them until they’re forced into a space where they either have to die themselves or take the initiative and kill him (hence his “finally” right before his death).

Ed has been working to become all the monstrous/demoniacal stories about himself, the ones that have been told by the English and by his trio of monstrous fathers. He hates them but he also wants their approval, and he’s transforming himself into the monstrosity that others say he is. His love for Stede and the things that he was allowed to access via his relationship with Stede are the soft, genuine parts of himself that he has been told are not him but that he's also now incapable of concealing. He’s not worthy of that softness, he’s not worthy of love, and so he tries to kill it.

He’s going to die on Stede’s ship, with Stede’s cravat around his throat, murdered by Stede’s crew, as a final confirmation that all the things he wanted to be, and all the love he felt, he wasn’t really worthy of, that Stede was right to leave him because look at what he’s done, and that the people who loved him should never have loved him. He’s dying like all his monstrous fathers have died, murdered by people who once cared for him and whom he should have taken care of, but failed to because he's a monster.

#reply #ofmd #tw: abuse #tw: suicide #our flag means death #edward teach #ofmd meta

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wildpeachfarm · 1 day

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See the thing is with streaming its going to die regardless, yes companies handing out less contracts is killing it further but its already dying at a fast rate? I'm not a stream hater either btw I really enjoy them but like. For example. 2020, 2021? When school was remote and I only ever worked mornings because of covid hours? I was clocked into that Philza 8hr stream DAILY. I was scheduling my classes around those streams so I could do homework while listening/watching. Went as far as to use my monthly speaking privilge to ask Phil what date British Daylight Savings began so I could keep my schedule clear. The second everything was no longer remote, and store hours went back to normal, I maybe caught 2, 3, maybe 4 streams in that year before I decided enough was enough about QSMP and I LOVE hardcore content.

From a company standpoint I can see why YT may not be interested in handing out streamer contracts anymore. Like Dreamie and a few others they're recognizing the Covid Number Boom is over- but unlike Dreamie, because theyre a corporation, they can't just "stick it out" and "recelebrate milestones". They have a "bottom line" to protect and they're not getting that same sweet sweet ad revenue from streams because of decreased viewer counts. Esp bc people don't just go back and watch vods unless there's a REAAAALLY good reason to. So no ad viewership there either. They're going to go back to relying on videos (and unfortunately probably shorts as well, I hate the tiktok-ification of every socmed site) to keep their ad revenue up, especially with the battle of ad blockers. I see more ad and monitization deals being handed out.

With streams (bc vod watching is lowkey practically nonexistant) not being in high demand bc of time constraints (happening while busy, timezones issues) the demands for videos will be higher as videos are ALWAYS readily available. Someone uploads at midnight your timezone? I mean it'll be there when you wake up, you won't have "missed" anything like you would have a livestream. Get a video schedule set out and you're GOLDEN- the first thing I do when I get home from work is check if a handful of youtubers have uploaded to put on to watch. If not, I rewatch some of my fav vids.

Also psychologically I actually think this is for the better of all CCs as a whole. Streaming, esp for some of the hourly requirements some of these ppl either HAVE to hit to get paid or WILLINGLY put themselves through (Tubbo) you have to wear your persona the ENTIRE time. You have to make sure you don't slip up that ENTIRE time. You have to be entertaining the ENTIRE time. You have to filter yourself because it's all live. To me this just sounds like what I do on a daily basis masking my audHD and that shit is so tiring and it's why I could NEVER be a streamer. If you're recording videos you can control what goes out. You don't have to wear whatever persona you decide to put on for 8hrs for a stream, you can record 3 hours of footage and then be done for the day, and that can either be one video or multiple depending on a lot of factors. Accidentally say your mom's name? Cut the clip. Bit isn't funny? Cut the clip. They will still have to actively filter themselves yes but for a much less amount of time. In the end CCs will have a lot more mind power that they're not using up to take care of themselves. I genuinely think it's psychologically better for them all.

It's unfortunate that the streaming industry is going to collapse this way. But also seeing how the communities heavily affected by streaming are more drama filled than communities w/o streaming, I'm lowkey hoping it's for the best. Pulling the plug like this imo is a mercy kill.

And now I'm gonna wash my mouth out for all that corporate speak I just used. Sorry for the manifesto. And if someone wants to put this manifesto on reddit idc just crop/block any usernames IG

I appreciate the essay-andy-ing these are interesting thoughts! I don't think the streaming scene will collapse entirely but I do think that it will become more advantageous to be a youtuber because people have found that to be the most consistent for many years as a CC rather than streams which require a lot of additional things (like you mentioned)

And I feel like we are seeing quite a few people say they're going to prioritize youtube more in the future which seems to be the beginning of that transition

I am curious if twitch will ever try to keep certain big-viewer streamers on the platform with 'kick-style' ($$$$) contracts.

#ask

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laughhardrunfastbekindsblog · 19 hours

Text

A question of loyalty: an analysis of two perspectives in season 1

The past few years, I have loved rewatching season 1 with the context of the finale, because it has been so interesting to really see things from Crosshair's perspective.

Our first hint that maybe Crosshair's motives aren't what we first thought:

Hunter's (and our) perspectives on the issue are further challenged:

And then we reach the ultimate accusation:

So, let's take a look at both sides.

POINT #1: "Crosshair was the one who kept attacking the squad! How could he POSSIBLY accuse the squad of betraying him??"

COUNTERPOINT: Because from his perspective, they had. We as the audience know the whole plan was for the squad to get Crosshair back after they escaped the brig on Kamino - in fact, Hunter was prepping to go back for Crosshair at the same time Crosshair was coming for them - but Crosshair doesn't know that. He had been arguing with his squad ever since Order 66, trying to get them to understand how important it was for them to follow orders, and they had yet another disagreement right before he was singled out. His inhibitor chip gets intensified, he gets sent after his brothers (as if Tarkin needed to do anything else to thoroughly disgust me...), and he finds them in the hangar prepping the Marauder to leave. (Just to reiterate: from Crosshair's perspective, he had recently been arguing with his brothers, and now he finds them readying to leave.) Hunter never tells him that they were coming back for him; instead, they engage in some back-and-forth about surrendering and following orders before the shooting begins.

Having left him on that note, it would be all too easy for Crosshair to work himself up over the perceived abandonment - especially if he started feeling any sort of regret over his actions toward his squad (finding a way to blame the other party is, after all, a common defense mechanism).

And every time they cross paths thereafter, instead of his brothers apologizing or listening or trying to come with him, they keep running away from him after arguing with him about how he's being controlled and forced to obey orders. I can't help but imagine that any mention of "programming" only served to stoke Crosshair's ornery side: he and his squad are "superior," after all; he can't be controlled, he is being a good soldier and following orders because HE chose to, not because of some stupid chip. (Cue Crosshair claiming it "doesn't matter" when he got his chip removed: his ideology remains the same, thank you very much.)

And so, from Crosshair's standpoint: his brothers abandoned him, they won't even talk to him except to try to convince him he's wrong about everything, and they're ruining any chance they have of finding "purpose" by remaining soldiers and serving the Empire.

POINT #2: "Hunter and the others didn't try hard enough to get Crosshair back - actually, they didn't try at all."

COUNTERPOINT: I think we overestimate just how much time passed between the Batch escaping Kamino and the events on Bracca (unless the squad was just hanging around in open space for weeks at a time, which I doubt). Consider how quickly events occur in the first eight episodes:

The squad narrowly escapes Kamino

They try to lay low at Cut and Suu's, but that lasts maybe two days before they are on the run again

The Marauder crashes

It's necessary to find a way to scramble the ship's signature, so they have to make a quick landing on Pantora

Enter Fennec

Well, now they have to find out why a bounty hunter is after Omega

Enter Cid

Cid pretty much immediately starts blackmailing them

They have to do another job for Cid - we don't know exactly how much time passed, but Cid doesn't seem to be one to wait to order the Bad Batch around, especially as this next job reasserts her claim on them.

Rex reappears - we don't know exactly how much time passed here, either, but I would guess Rex sought them out as soon as he was tipped off about them.

(Lest anyone think Tech must have just given up on the chip scanner after the Marauder crashed, remember that he needed comparative data in order to properly use the scanner. I can only imagine how much it must have eaten at Tech to not have any way of finding a source with the necessary data to complete the scanner - especially considering everything else going on - until Rex miraculously showed up.)

So, until reuniting on Bracca, there is precious little time or opportunity for the squad to formulate a plan to get Crosshair back... And then Bracca happens. Here, they are confronted by Crosshair, who responds to genuine pleas to reconsider his stance by hitting them where it hurts: "Aim for the kid." Crosshair then sets things up to literally incinerate them, and they barely make it out alive before being attacked by Cad Bane.

Now, they had seen what the chip had done to Wrecker, true; but Wrecker had previously acknowledged that he understood the chip existed and was willing to have it removed, AND it was squad+Rex against Wrecker (and even then they barely managed to subdue him). Crosshair refused to acknowledge even the possibility of a chip influencing his actions, obviously wasn't willing to have it removed at that point, had never shown any inclination of wanting to rejoin them, and squad+Rex against Crosshair+vast Imperial resources would have been suicide - ESPECIALLY since Crosshair proves time and again that he can predict their moves. There's no way around that.

So what does the squad decide to do? They run. They can't take Crosshair with them, but they aren't going to try to kill him either.

Crosshair remains too well protected for the squad to go after him, but we can see on Hunter's face as the squad leaves Ryloth after peripherally tangling with Crosshair that the situation REALLY doesn't sit well with Hunter.

And yet... WHAT ELSE CAN THEY DO?

So, from Hunter+squad's perspective: as far as they are aware, Crosshair is refusing all offers of help, and trying to go after Crosshair would be suicide. Crosshair can't be rescued if the squad is all dead.

An impasse, then.

ANOTHER FACTOR TO CONSIDER:

But the accusation of disloyalty goes far beyond Crosshair believing the squad left him behind; he sees disloyalty in the fact that they apparently don't share the same views. It's not just a conversation about why/how Crosshair was left behind; it's also an argument over ideology, as Hunter tries to point out the Empire's flaws while Crosshair is determined to remain a soldier with the one purpose he has always known.

And then we reach the climactic revelation: Hunter is trying to convince Crosshair that maybe his views are being controlled by the chip - only for Crosshair to tell Hunter he already knows about it and the chip is gone, AND he won't even tell Hunter when it happened. We can make educated guesses as to when Crosshair's chip was removed, but Hunter has been spending all this time trying to keep everyone else on the squad safe from a fellow brother who is being controlled by an inhibitor chip... only to find out that maybe Crosshair was acting of his own volition for who knows how long. This, I believe, is the point where Hunter started to consider Crosshair as having actually betrayed the Batch.

And no matter when the chip was removed, Crosshair is still convinced that the Empire is the right side, and believes that anyone who won't join the Empire is against him.

So, before the confrontation on Kamino: Crosshair is convinced the squad has abandoned him. Hunter and the squad can't feasibly do anything about it.

During the confrontation on Kamino, we learn that unless the squad is willing to join Crosshair and the Empire, he's going to continue to believe they have disowned him. And the squad will not join the Empire, much as they love Crosshair.

CONCLUSION: Crosshair's and Hunter's perspectives are both equally valid, especially based on what they know and later learn of the other's stance. Hunter rightly points out that wanting different things doesn't mean they have to be enemies; but as long as the rest of the squad members aren't willing to support tyranny enforce order, Crosshair will consider them disloyal to him, since they are opposed to the views he stands by, the views that - at that moment - define him. It will take other perspectives, outside the squad, to shift Crosshair's views (but that's the topic of another essay 😉). In the meantime, having finally had the chance to hear the other's side - even if they don't agree - Crosshair and the Bad Batch separate on at least marginally civil - if strained - terms... Though both still consider the other to be guilty of betraying the ideals of Clone Force 99.

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars #star wars the bad batch #clone force 99 #this is longer than i intended it to be #sorry not sorry #from a certain point of view #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb analysis #just passing the time until the series finale #by (over)analyzing certain topics #still rooting for a full reunion #i love them all so much

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