#I just had an interview there and apparently my course has an online class once a week

[ya-gurl-emily]

The awesome thing about college is that being there is miserable, and not being there is worse.

Nifty!

[im-a-king-baby]

🪷

Hi! I cannot see this emoji because apparently I need to update several of my devices but I am going to ASSUME it is a flower. <3

Your snippet is about Laura (aka the fan who drove Simon to Bjarstad at the end of a very strange day)

Laura is pretty sure she’s dreaming. The entire night has had this air of unreality and now there’s this boy sitting in her passenger seat staring out the window in a white hoodie several sizes too big.

“What was your name?” he asks.

They’ve been driving for twenty minutes. This is the first thing he’s said since he offered to have sex with her and she said, “Um, no thank you?” like the most awkward person in history.

Google maps says it’s still nearly two hours to Bjarstad. And she can’t put on music because the car only has a CD player and the only CDs she has are Simme albums and Simme is sitting in her passenger seat. “Laura. Laura Andersson.”

He nods. “Hi.”

So fucking surreal. “Hi.”

“Were you looking for me?”

“What?”

“Looking for me,” he repeats. “Like, did Twitter say where I was so you went to find me?”

For a second she’s insulted at the implication, but when she glances over he doesn’t look angry, just tired. Resigned. Like he expects her to say yes.

And she’s seen all the news footage of crowds around the Grand hotel. She was looking on Twitter after the show for other fans talking about the new song but instead it was all people asking where the crew had moved to, rumours about different hotels. “No,” she says. “I was -” she pauses, trying to plan the sentence and tripping up on several words. Funnily enough high school language classes never covered ‘adulterous asshole’. Or maybe they did, she wasn’t great at paying attention. “I don’t know how to say it in English.”

“Oh,” he sounds surprised, like he’d forgotten where he was in between playing the show and now, and switches. “Swedish is fine. Sorry.” His Swedish accent is a bit rough, just like on stage, but he speaks it easily enough. Of course he does, he grew up here.

“I know you don’t like it,” she says.

He laughs softly, at a joke he doesn’t bother to share, letting his head thud against the passenger window. “Did I say that?”

He’s still speaking Swedish, so she switches because translating everything at 3am while her ears are still ringing and she’s driving an unfamiliar route into the middle of nowhere is going to give her a headache. “You gave an interview once where you said you wish you could forget Swedish so that you could forget everything that happened in Sweden.”

“Oh.” He touches his hoodie pocket, like he needs to reassure himself that it’s still there. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“Is it true?”

He glances sideways at her, possibly looking at her properly for the first time. “Sometimes,” he says. Whatever that means. “So where were you headed, before?”

“I was looking for a hostel. I was supposed to be staying with my boyfriend - I’m from Gothenburg and he’s from Stockholm but he comes over a lot for work. Then he texts me after the show started like ‘actually my wife has decided not to take the kids to her mother’s so you’ll have to get a hotel.’ And obviously I called him and he goes ‘I thought you knew I was married’ like obviously I did not. And the wife doesn’t know about me so all this time I’ve been a fucking homewrecker or something. Anyway all the hotels were booked out from the concert so I was looking for this hostel I saw online in the hope they might have a bed free and then I saw you.”

And she pulled over to check if he was alright and to ask if she could drive him somewhere - half wondering if she could maybe negotiate a room at his hotel, or at least a couch to crash on and somewhere to park overnight - and he’d climbed in and asked if she knew a town called Bjarstad.

It’s kind of on her way home, only adds an hour or so to the overall drive time. And when she’d unsubtly mentioned that she’d need to sleep at some point, he’d dropped that he owned a house there. In some middle-of-nowhere town in Sweden, a country he supposedly hasn’t been back to in nearly 3 years.

Then he’d offered her money, a photograph, and sex, in that order.

“Fuck,” Simme says, his voice is flat but she appreciates the sentiment. “Well. Sorry I fucked up the show for you as well.”

She glances sideways, but she can’t look long enough to get a good sense of his expression without taking her attention off the road. “It was fine. I mean who else can say they got to hear a Simme original song, live.” God, that makes it sound like she hated it. “I mean I loved the song, the song was great.” Or maybe that’s too much enthusiasm for a song he sang like his heart was fucking breaking. “I mean, it was sad. But really pretty.”

She takes her eyes off the road again, to see his mouth quirk into a tiny half smile. “You should send that to my PR team,” he says. “Sad But Pretty. There’s an album title right there.”

[vixenpen]

Fuck A Fan (Bakugo x Camgirl reader pt. 1)

You had gotten the idea from one of your best friends in the cam industry.

“You sure this will work?”

“Trust me boo,” he had replied, “sometimes the best motivation for a man is a little friendly competition.”

Your bestie had insisted that a fuck a fan contest would be the perfect way to get CallMeKing to finally make good on his unfulfilled promise to see you.

Putting the finishing touches on your flyer, you finally posted the announcement to all social media. You knew CMK was still lurking. So he’d definitely see it. Hopefully, this little contest would be enough to spark his interest, if this failed, you were going to scream.

Because for the first time in your cam career, a man had you chasing him.

The audacity!

To be fair, he did say that he wanted to see you too, but had to keep a low profile due to his career. He promised as soon as worked dialed down you guys would meet up.

Well that had been over a year ago, and not only had you guys not met face to face; he also didn’t seem to check in on you as much anymore.

He still tipped and re-subbed to your page. He had even cash-apped you money for Christmas and your birthday.

But aside from that, there were no more late night, sexting sessions, no more random check ins, no more nude trading.

At first, you brushed it off.

He was apparently a very successful man. Successful men were busy. They couldn’t give you every second of their time. As a successful woman, you could relate to that.

Not to mention, you were a bad bitch and bad bitches did not pine over any man.

PERIODTTT.

Buuuut...when the man in question was fine as hell with boulders for biceps, a big dick, and long money, well...you’d like to think the City Girls, Meg the Stallion, and all the other bad bitches you looked up to would understand your thirst.

“Alright, King,” you sat back in the furry, white computer chair and glared at your laptop screen. “Ball is in your court now.”

“Mr. Ground Zero, can I get a picture too?”

A precocious looking blue haired kid asked. He stared up at Katsuki with wide, hopeful eyes.

Katsuki grimaced.

“Whatever kid, c’mon.”

He leaned down, attempting to keep a safe distance from the walking germ pool, while keeping in the lens of his camera phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thanks a lot, Mr. Ground Zero!”

The kid giddily ran back to his group of friends.

Kirishima slung his arm around Bakugo’s shoulder, weighing down on his slightly shorter friend.

“Wow, Bakubro, looks like those public relations training classes have really been working, huh?”

“Whatever, I just don’t need anymore shitty press with kids.”

“You still have energy for happy hour with Sero and Me tonight?”

Bakugo replied with a noncommittal shrug. He scrolled absentmindedly through his phone as he and Kirishima headed towards their agencies to call it a day.

He decided to check in on (cam name’s) IG page to see how she was doing.

A pang of longing tugged at him. He missed her. A lot. Sure, she was a cam girl, and being friendly and flirty was her job, but she always brightened his days. With crime picking up steadily over the past year, Bakugo could use her presence in his life now more than ever, unfortunately, nothing in his schedule would permit it.

He was researching a new threat that had been developing in the crime world. Apparently the new mob of villains seemed to have some connections to the crime world in America, and Bakugo found himself flying back and forth to the west for meetings and to make media rounds to help put the public at ease.

His sleep schedule was completely out of whack with all the stress he was under, so any spare moment he wasn’t working, he was sleeping. Which meant no time for his virtual boo thing. Though he did try to make it known he was thinking about her with bill money.

As he flipped through her newest posts, something caught his eyes.

Fuck a fan contest? Winner gets to make content with me at secure location!

What the fuck was this shit?

Whatever it was, he was certainly going to get to the bottom of it when he got home.

CMK: Hey, (cam name) what’s this all about?

Y/N: what does it look like? Fuck a fan contest

CMK: fuck u mean? You don’t do meet ups!

Y/N: 🤷🏾‍♀️ first time for everything.

Anger hummed beneath Bakugo’s skin. Since when did y/n start doing meet ups? She had always told him she didn’t trust her fans as far as she could throw them.

He had encouraged her to not be forthcoming with personal information and never feel like she had to meet up with randos online for money. He would take care of anything she needed before it came to that.

So what was the meaning of this? Had he not been taking good enough care of her? Keeping her bills paid? Her nails and hair done?

Y/N: u entering or what? 👀

CMK: hell no im not entering and neither is anyone else. Now take that shit down.

Y/n: (voice note) first the fuck of all, you don’t tell me what to do. Second the fuck of all, do you know how much money is in this? You ain’t stopping my bag boo. Period! 💅🏾

He was practically seething. Who the fuck did she think she was talking to like that?

Who the fuck did she think she was saying no to?!

His dick stirred in his pants as he re-listened to the voice note of her cursing him out.

CMK: how much does it take to win?

Y/N: just whoever has the most.

CMK tipped $150,000

CMK: now take it the fuck down

Y/N: nobody else has entered yet.

CMK: nobody else up here has the money I have.

Y/N: if you’re not meeting with me, I ain’t takin it down.

CMK: god fucking dammit y/n. Tonight. 9pm. Text me the addy. I’ll have my driver pick you up.

True to his word, CMK had his driver pick you up an hour and a half before the time he had mentioned.

Your knee bounced, causing the black mini dress hugging your shapely thighs to ride up. You pulled it down absentmindedly.

You could count on one hand how many times you had been flown out by one of your fans. It certainly wasn’t a weekly occurrence for you the way it was for other models.

Fear and excitement fluttered in your stomach.

You wondered what the driver thought of you. Heading to this rich and powerful man’s house in the middle of the night.

You had tried to dress up as if you were going to be taken on a fancy date. Your hair styled, silver chandelier earrings dripping from your lobes to match the long silver necklace that dipped between your pushed up cleavage.

If the driver gave two shits, you at least hoped he thought you were going to get a nice meal before getting dicked down.

The community where CMK lived was on the outskirts of town; hidden in a forest of natural and manicured foliage. One could go literal miles between each home before they saw the next one.

You pressed your forehead against the window to take in the flora and fauna, manicured lawns, and huge mansions. So. Many. Styles. Of mansions!

“Here we are ma’am.” the driver announced.

He drove you up a looping, stone drive way that led to a very modern home that reminded you a bit of abstract art what with its odd angles, jutting sides, and square architecture.

The driver stepped out and opened your door. Once you were faced with the massive stairs and wooden doors before you, the song: Pretty Woman blared in your mind. You certainly felt that way.

Before you could knock, the door swung open revealing a pair of red eyes that were devouring your body head to toe.

“Oh my god...”

“Wasn’t expecting to hear that before I even touched you, beautiful.” He chuckled. His lips quirked into the cocky half smirk you’d grown familiar with from his interviews.

Was this real? Call me king was Ground Zero?!

“C-call me king?” You managed to stutter out pitifully.

“I would prefer to call you by your real name.” He joked. “Come in, beautiful.” He grabbed your hand gently and pulled you through the door.

You couldn’t even appreciate the high ceilings, polished wood floors, and tasteful stone wash colored furniture as you followed Ground Zero through the door.

He took leggy strides into the airy kitchen taking out a couple of glasses from a cupboard. You could only gawk.

He looked good as hell in his short sleeved denim button up shirt and ripped black jeans. His physique flexed under the well tailored clothes showing off the broad chest and bulging biceps you’d seen in the Nudes. His spiky Blonde hair looked soft and a bit damp.

“You wanna drink, beautiful?”

“I don’t accept drinks from new people in new environments.”

He looked up to shoot you a half smile. The usual mischief was missing from his red eyes, replaced with genuine affection.

“Of course you don’t. My (cam name.)”

“F/N,” you replied.

“Bout damn time you gave me a real name. Mine is Bakugo, babe.”

He strolled over with a glass of water for himself.

“So, f/n,” his ruby colored eyes darkened with a predatory gleam as he stepped right to your face. “Why don’t you have a seat? I promise the couch won’t bite.”

He brought a hand down to smack your round ass, making you jump.

“Can’t say the same for myself though.”

Licking your lips, you lowered yourself into the couch. Bakugo settled beside you so close the sides of your bodies touched. He draped an arm around your shoulder.

“I know you got a camsona and all, but damn, y/n, where’s my feisty little c/n? Huh? Lil Ms. Period!” His voice took on a lighter tone as he tried to imitate your twang.

The attempt earned him a giggle.

“Well excuse me, sir, but I wasn’t expecting the number two pro-hero in Japan to be my biggest fan.” You snapped back, playfully rolling your eyes. “Forgive me if I’m still wrapping my brain around it.”

“There’s that smart ass mouth I love so much.” He tucked your chin.

This close to him, you could feel his warm minty breath fanning against your lips. A familiar warmth was already growing between your legs.

Pulling away you asked: “Why me?”

“Hah?” His brows knit in confusion. “Fuck kinda question is that? What do you mean why you?”

“I mean, I’m a bad bitch or whatever, but I’m just...me and you’re...you.”

“Tch. You just answered your own damn question, dumb ass.” He tilted your face back towards him. You felt his other large hand roam the bare skin of your thigh and shivered.

“You’re a bad bitch. You don’t seem to forget that any other time, don’t fuckin’ forget it now, got that? Your confidence is what’s sexy about you.”

A smile tugged at your lips as heat flooded your cheeks.

“You know, when you’re not being a fuckin’ asshole, you can be pretty damn charming when you wanna be.”

“And when you’re not being a defiant little brat, you can be real fucking cute.”

A moan slipped from your glossy lips as his hand crept steadily up your thigh

“Please,” you leaned closer to him, “you love my brattiness.”

He scoffed, amused.

“I’ll show you just how much I like it.”

Without warning, Bakugo scooped you up. His large, rough hands dug into the soft flesh of your round ass as he straddled you on his lap.

Your wet, bare pussy pressed into his bulge as he stole a greedy kiss. Your gasp quickly morphed into a moan as desire burned in your core and flooded your entire body.

His tongue overtook your mouth effortlessly.

“No panties, huh, brat? I can feel you leaking through my jeans.”

“I hate panties,” you managed between kisses. “And bras.”

That little confession just inspired more arousal in Bakugo. He deposited you on the long couch and let his hot tongue snake along every sensitive bit of exposed flesh he could find. Goosebumps rose on your skin.

“Damn, beautiful,” he managed between kisses, “can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”

His bulge rubbed your aching clit deliciously.

You tugged his shirt up over his mess of blonde hair.

He grabbed the deep ‘V’ of your dress and ripped it open, drawing a gasp from you.

“Now we match.” He grinned

“You ass—“

“You’ll have a new outfit by tomorrow afternoon, now shut up.”

True to his word, Bakugo tasted every inch of you. He nibbled your ears making you shiver, licked your nipples making you hiss his name, and devoured your toes like blow pops.

Your body was trembling from sensory overload.

“God..” you moaned.

“You look like you want something, babe,” Bakugo smiled wickedly as he hovered above you. “What is it?”

“Eat me.”

[ohmyjinsus]

the right reasons

yang hongseok x gender neutral! reader

recent college grads nonsense idk || 5.9k

** there is some drinking in this (they are of age, after all), but no swearing uwu**

finally, a fic not inspired by a taylor swift song, shocking, I know (I listened to cruel summer on a loop while I was writing this though, I think y’all will see why)

summary: when your best friend, hongseok, decides to audition for bachelor in paradise after graduation, you don’t want to believe it ….. mainly because you’re in love with him, even if you haven’t realized it yet

“Do you think I should apply?”

You look up. The two of you are watching The Bachelor in his apartment. Hongseok’s the only other person you know who’s into it. Once you found out, you immediately agreed to watch it together. Ordering takeout and making fun of the contestants has been your tradition ever since you met 4 years ago.

“I’m confused,” you say. You were checking your phone during the commercials.

“Bachelor in Paradise,” Hongseok replies, gesturing to the TV. “They’re casting for next season, there was an ad.”

“That came out of nowhere.” He doesn’t look phased.

“We’ve graduated now,” he says. “I don’t know what else to do with my life.”

“You have a point,” you reply. It’s been one month since all of you finished university. Lots of your other friends had jobs lined up beforehand, but you and Hongseok still have no idea what you’re doing.

“Right?” He grins. “I could go on, I’d have something to do, then I’d come back and I’d have a bunch of new Instagram followers and I could do sponsorships or something.”

“You realize that sounds crazy, right?” You grab a french fry from the box on the coffee table.

“It’s not!” You roll your eyes. “Think about it y/n, I’m smart, funny, attractive, nice-”

“Wrong, wrong, wrong, and wrong, but okay.” He laughs.

“I’m exactly what they’re looking for on these shows.”

“But you want to go on for the wrong reasons.”

“Shhhh,” he tells you. “Nobody needs to know that.”

“What’s your story then?” You ask.

“I grew up seeing my parents being so in love,” you make a gagging noise, but he keeps going. “And now, I want that kind of love for myself. The apps are just no good, and I need to find a special someone to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Jesus christ,” you mutter. “You didn’t mention anything about your personal journey to find love.”

“Oh right,” he says. “Now that I’m finished university, my main focus is to settle down, get married, have kids, and I’m on my personal journey to find all of that.”

“Amazing,” you fake clap for him. “You’re a shoo-in.”

“There’s no harm in applying, right?” He shrugs. “I doubt it’ll lead anywhere, but it could be fun.”

“I guess so,” you admit. “Your chances are slim, but you never know.”

“What do you mean?” He says, offended. “Have you seen me in a swimsuit?”

“Shut up.” You throw your napkin at him, but you’re laughing.

Hongseok offers to grab you another drink, so you tell him yes. He doesn’t mention anything else about the show for the rest of the night. By the time you’ve gone home, it’s completely slipped your mind.

===

When Hongseok invites you over 2 weeks later, you assume he just wants to hang out and have dinner. You’re shocked when he sits you down on the couch and says he has news to share.

“You’re dating someone.” He shakes his head. “Someone died.”

“No,” he tells you, laughing. “I love how those are your first two guesses though.”

“What is it?”

“I got a call yesterday from the Bachelor in Paradise producers...”

“You’re joking.” You didn’t expect that to go anywhere. You just assumed Hongseok would send in his audition tape and never hear back. The possibility of him actually being on the show makes you feel uneasy. “Really?”

“Yes, y/n, really.” He sits down on the armchair, facing you. “They want to meet me in person next week.”

“Oh my god,” you say. “Congratulations.”

“You don’t sound that happy,” he smirks. “Are you jealous?” You shake your head right away.

“I’m just surprised.”

“You didn’t think they’d want me?” He asks quietly.

“No, of course not,” you reassure him. “You’re kind, and funny, and attractive, why wouldn’t they want you?”

“Exactly,” he grins at you.

“So are you gonna go?” He nods.

“Why not? The worst they could do is say no.”

“That’s so exciting,” you tell him. He seems very happy about it, and the last thing you want to do is bring him down. As his best friend, you should definitely be supportive.

“Will you come with me?”

“What?” You glance at him.

“Downtown, for my interview,” he clarifies. “I have to take the train down and meet them there, I don’t really want to go alone.”

“Are you nervous?”

“A little bit,” he admits. “I’d just feel better if I had someone with me.”

“What about Changgu?” Hongseok shakes his head. “Shinwon?”

“You’re my first choice.” That catches you off guard. “We can make a day of it,” he suggests. “We can go to that bakery you wanted to try on Queen, and we can go shopping, get dinner, it’ll be fun.”

“Sure,” you say. Going on adventures with Hongseok is always a good time. “How long will your interview be?”

“They didn’t say,” he replies. “I just know it’s at 10 on Wednesday.”

“Cool,” you pull out your phone so you can put it in your calendar. “So if it goes horribly, I can cheer you up, and if it goes well, we can celebrate.”

“Sounds good.” He smiles at you. “Thanks y/n.”

You nod but there’s a small part of you that’s anxious. You decide to ignore your feelings for the time being. Your day with Hongseok is going to be great, you should focus on that and enjoy your time together.

===

Hongseok meets you outside the train station the morning of his interview. The first thing you notice is how nicely he’s dressed. As he gets closer to you, you notice he smells really great too.

“I should’ve dressed up some more,” you mutter, glancing down at your own outfit. You’re dressed like you’re going to class, while Hongseok’s dressed for a first date.

“You look fine, don’t worry.” He heads towards the entrance, so you follow close behind.

You were right to have Hongseok come early, as the train is at the platform the second you get there. He follows you to the back of the car, and sits down facing you.

He hasn’t seen you in person since he asked you to join him on this trip. Apparently he went on a shopping trip with Changgu yesterday. That’s when he got his current outfit.

“No wonder this cardigan is so nice, you couldn’t have picked out anything like that yourself.” Hongseok rolls his eyes at you, but he’s smiling.

The train leaves soon after. Hongseok watches out the window like a little kid. He keeps his eyes on the station until it’s all the way out of sight. And you keep your eyes on him until he catches you looking.

“Are you nervous?” You ask him. He shakes his head, but you notice his leg bouncing up and down.

“It’s just like a first date, right?”

“Exactly,” you reassure him. “And you’re great at those.”

“Are you sure?” He asks. “You’ve never been on one with me.” You don’t know how to respond to that. You almost want to tell him to take you on one. But you’re just friends, you remind yourself, you can’t do that.

“You’ve dated more people than I have,” you point out. “You’ll be fine.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The two of you sit in silence for a little while. Hongseok goes on his phone, so you focus on yours. You brought your AirPods so you can listen to music or watch a show while Hongseok’s busy with the producers.

“y/n-” You look up. Hongseok looks like he’s about to ask you something, but he hesitates.

“What’s up?” He shakes his head.

“What’s the plan for the rest of the day?” He asks you. You know that’s not what he was planning on saying, but you go with it.

“While you’re busy, I’ll get us breakfast,” you tell him. “There’s a café across the street, let me show you.” You sit down next to him so you can show him your phone. When he leans over to get a look at the screen, you’re suddenly aware of how close he is. You push it out of your mind.

By the time you’ve planned out your day, you’ve arrived at the train station. The two of you grab all your things and leave the train. Once you’re out of the station, the interview location isn’t too far away. There’s still 20 minutes before Hongseok’s meant to be there. He’s adamant about getting there early though. Although he won’t outright say it, you can tell he’s nervous. No wonder he brought you instead of one of his other friends; they wouldn’t let him live this down.

Once you get there, there’s a line of all the other candidates running through the main hallway. You and Hongseok join the end of the line.

“You don’t have to stay,” he tells you. You shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you say. There’s a check-in desk a few metres ahead of you. “I’ll stay until you get past there.”

“Okay,” he replies. “Thanks.” You bump your shoulder against his.

He’s brought his application package with him, so you ask to look it over while the two of you wait. There’s tons of pictures of him, some of them shirtless, which you quickly flip through. Then there’s copies of all of Hongseok’s identification. At the very back, there’s the printed copy of his application. You move that to the front, flipping through to make sure he didn’t leave anything blank.

He never asked you to look over his online application before he handed it in, so you’re interested to see what he had to say. There are the stereotypical questions about his career, education, background, and all of that. But there are also some more personal questions further down.

Why do you want to be on this show? Are you prepared to get engaged at the end of the season?

Hongseok’s answer is cookie cutter perfect. He knows he’s the prime candidate for this kind of show. Kind, good-looking, easy to fall for. He’s played to all his strengths in his application. You know he’s lying about being prepared to propose at the end of the show, but everyone does that. His answer comes off as genuine though.

The line moves up a little bit while you flip to the next page. It’s all about his dating history. You’re shocked at how invasive these questions are. Then again, if it’s for reality TV, it has to be.

The first section asks for a detailed dating history from the past 5 years. You’re familiar with all of that. He’s never told you about any ex-girlfriends, or anyone he’s currently interested in. He’s a casual dater, and you’ve never seen him tied down for too long. The maximum amount of dates he’s been on with one person is 3. You haven’t seen anyone get past that point. He seems to get bored easily. You’re honestly surprised he’s been friends with you for this long.

Despite all of his casual dating history, he’s made it clear he’s ready to settle down now. You thought he was just making this up to get on the show, but the more you read, the less you’re sure. Maybe he’s just persuasive.

The line moves a little bit more. Now there are just 3 other people ahead of you. Hongseok’s on his phone again. You figure you have enough time to skim the rest of his answers.

Have you ever been in love? is the next question. You know the answer is no, so you’re surprised when there’s a couple paragraphs written underneath it.

I have, but I was never brave enough to act on it. You try to read the entire section as quickly as you possibly can, but your brain doesn’t work that well. You grab some words here and there, years, class, close friends but not enough to fully comprehend.

“C’mon y/n,” Hongseok says to you. “We’re next.” He holds his hand out for the folder.

You glance down at the page you’re on. Although you want to read the rest, you also realize you’ve stumbled upon something incredibly personal. Granted, Hongseok may wind up sharing this on national television, but for now, it’s none of your business.

“Here,” you close it and hand it to him.

“Thanks.”

Hongseok gets checked in soon after that. It takes about 5 minutes for them to verify his identity and double check his application. Finally, they direct him to a room down the hall where he’ll meet some of the producers. They tell you you can’t go beyond this point.

“Good luck,” you say to Hongseok, not sure what else to say. He smiles.

“Thanks y/n.”

Some of his hair is falling in his face, so you reach out to quickly brush it out of the way. When you pull away, he’s looking at you with an expression you’ve never seen before. It feels surprisingly intimate.

“Text me when you’re done,” you tell him, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. “You’ll be great.”

He nods, and the two of you go your separate ways. You know you’ll see him again in an hour, but it still feels weird to say bye to him like this. You hope nothing changes if he does wind up on this stupid show.

You walk out the doors onto the sidewalk again, thankful for the fresh air. You pull your AirPods out of your bag, so you can listen to some music. As you walk along the street, you can’t help but think of Hongseok and what he might be saying to the producers in there.

You tell yourself you’re curious just because you’re best friends. But you can’t get that look on his face out of your mind. You have no idea what it means. You’re just really close friends, right?

You turn the music up, hoping to distract yourself. It works until you pass a small playground. You can’t help but think of Hongseok yet again.

The two of you met during your university’s orientation week, but it wasn’t until halfway during the semester that you actually spoke to him. You knew you were taking some classes together, but you never really thought about it until then.

Speaking in class was something that always terrified you, but one of your professors was adamant that everyone do it in order to get full marks. It took a while for you to work up the courage to raise your hand that day in October. When you were called on, you hesitated for a second, before sharing your answer. You don’t even remember the question anymore, you just remember your professor outright laughing at you. You’d been so sure you were right, but your professor made it very clear that you were not. Right away, you threw all your things into your backpack and ran out of the lecture hall. Your heart was beating so fast and you had no idea where to go. You wound up outside, walking as far as your legs could possibly take you, until you found a park off campus. As soon as you sat down on the swings, you couldn’t help but cry.

It was one thing to get an answer wrong, but to have your professor react like that was humiliating. You were never going back to that class ever again. You’d drop the course, or only show up on test days, whatever it took to never see that godforsaken man ever again. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice when someone sat down on the swing next to you.

After that day, you and Hongseok quickly became friends. You still can’t believe he was kind enough to follow you out of class like that, but he always tells you it was nothing. As you think back to it now, you can’t help but feel a rush of affection for him. Maybe he is more than a friend to you.

You head to the playground and sit on the swings alone, thinking back to some of your other memories with Hongseok. He’s always been there for you to lean on, and you’ve always done the same for him, like today. You remember feeling this way when he’d specifically asked you to come with him. At this point, you’re about 90% sure you have feelings for him. You don’t know how you didn’t clue in earlier.

You stay there until your phone buzzes. Hongseok’s done sooner than you expected. He says he’ll meet you at the café where you wanted to get breakfast. You respond, saying you’ll see him there soon.

You didn’t walk that far, so it only takes about 5 minutes of speed walking to get back there. When you spot him waiting outside on his phone, you can’t help but smile.

The two of you head inside, while you tell him what you got up to. You say you found a park bench and wound up doing some work there. He rolls his eyes and tells you you should’ve found something more entertaining to do.

After you’ve got your food and sat down, you ask him about the interview.

“It was okay,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee. “I think they liked me.”

“What do you mean think?”

“It seems like they believed me when I told them how passionate I am about my journey for love.” You smirk at that.

“Are you sure you weren’t speaking from the heart?”

“Of course I was y/n,” he says, jokingly. “How dare you insinuate I’m applying for the wrong reasons.”

You’re still unsure if he’s joking or not. After your earlier revelation, you’re praying he is.

He tells you some more about the interview and the producers. Apparently they asked even more invasive questions about his dating history, like his body count. That makes you cringe.

“If they offer you a spot,” you ask, “which I’m not saying they will, but if they do, would you take it?” You expect him to say yes right away, but he ponders it for a second.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “What do you think I should do?”

You want to tell him to say no, and to stay at home. Preferably so you can spend more time with him, and then maybe he’ll realize he’s into you as well. But you can’t say that, of course.

“I think it could benefit you,” you tell him, honestly. “But it’ll also change your life in multiple different ways, and that’s something you’d really have to think about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” you hesitate, taking a sip of your drink. “Assuming you wound up in a relationship by the end of the season, the odds of it working out aren’t that high,” he laughs at that, but doesn’t disagree. “Anyone you date after that will always see you as that guy who was on Bachelor in Paradise. You’ll probably have a wider range of people to choose from, but a lot of them will be fake too, so, it’s up to you.” You shrug.

“All valid points,” he replies.

“I don’t know if you’re ever planning on settling down,” you admit. “But if you do, it’ll affect that and whoever you wind up with.”

“I would like to settle down someday,” he says quietly. You glance across the booth at him. “What?”

“I’ve never really thought about you in a long term relationship. It doesn’t seem like your type of thing.”

“It could be,” he tells you, “with the right person.”

You just nod, afraid you might say something stupid if you open your mouth.

Once you’re finished eating, the two of you head out to the closest subway station. You have a list of stores you want to visit, and Hongseok happily follows along. He helps you pick out some gifts for your friend’s upcoming birthday and some clothes. He winds up buying some things for himself as well. You joke that he’ll have to buy an entirely new wardrobe if he winds up on national television. He promises to take you swimsuit shopping with him if that happens. That makes you roll your eyes, but you’re blushing the whole time.

You stop for lunch at a random fast food chain, then head to that bakery you told him about the week before. The two of you get some extra goodies for your roommates as well.

Finally, it’s almost 7 o’clock and you decide to go to a decent sit down restaurant for dinner. Earlier you told Hongseok you were in the mood to drink tonight, so he promised to take care of you. He lets you pick where to go, so you choose a restaurant with a rooftop bar. You know he likes to take nice photos for his Instagram feed.

The food is good, and the drinks are even better. You only have a few, but you can feel them getting to you. Hongseok’s extremely entertained by you. Normally you’re not this talkative, but you’re asking more questions and telling him more random things than usual.

You wind up telling him the truth about how you wound up at the park this morning. He’s surprised you lied, but you refuse to tell him why. Instead he just smiles and tells you it’s cute you thought of him. You wind up blushing profusely, hoping he doesn’t notice. The two of you reminisce over some other memories from early on in your friendship. You’re surprised he remembers them as well as you do. Maybe that means something.

When you’re finished eating, you stay a little longer. Hongseok has 2 drinks as well, but he can handle his liquor much better than you. It seems to have no effect on him at all. By the time you leave, it’s almost 9:30.

The second you step out of the restaurant, you’re met with a crowd of people. As you awkwardly navigate yourself around them, you’re separated from Hongseok. Once you’re free, you glance around, afraid you might have to call him. Thankfully, he’s waving at you from a couple metres ahead. You run over to him and immediately interlock your arms.

“C’mon,” he says, pulling you in the direction of the train station. You could have taken the subway back, but Hongseok suggested you walk instead, as it’s not too far. It’s dark out now, but it looks nice with all the street lamps lit up.

“I forgot to ask something about Bachelor in Paradise,” you say as the two of you head down the sidewalk. “Did they mention when they’ll get back to you?”

“In two weeks or so.”

“Will they let you know if you get rejected?” Hongseok smirks at that.

“Do you want me to get rejected?” You know he’s joking, but you can’t bring yourself to smile.

“Yes.” You mumble, mostly to yourself. Hongseok must not hear you.

“I was scared earlier,” he says. “But it might be fun. It’s a free vacation, technically.”

“Yeah, for the cost of your sanity.” That makes him laugh too. You rest your head against his arm.

“Do you think I could actually find someone worthwhile on there?” He asks quietly. “I know the premise is to date multiple people, but maybe I could find something real.”

“Hongseok-” You almost want to punch him. You wish you could yell at him, here on the sidewalk, and tell him off for not realizing there’s been something real right in front of him for the past 4 years, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. “Please.”

“I know, it sounds ridiculous, but you never know.” You two turn the corner and wind up right in front of the train station’s main entrance. “Crazier things have happened.”

You don’t know if it’s because you’re tired, or slightly drunk, or what, but you pull your arm out of his and turn to face him.

“Hongseok-” He glances into your eyes. This time, he notices something serious is happening.

“y/n, what is it?”

“Please don’t go,” you say quietly. He takes a step closer so he can hear you better. “Just… don’t do it.”

“I mean, I haven’t made up my mind yet,” he says, awkwardly. “But I thought you wanted me to do what’s best for me.” You shake your head.

“I was wrong,” you tell him. “I can’t do it.”

“You can’t do what?” You freeze. You wish you hadn’t used that choice of words, but at this point, there’s no turning back now.

“I can’t stay here and watch you on TV, dating other people, kissing other people, being with other people.” You’re not dumb, you know what the fantasy suites on that show are for, and imagining Hongseok in one of them with somebody else makes you simultaneously want to cry and throw up.

“I don’t understand.” You groan. You were hoping that would’ve been enough to get your point across, but of course, your best friend isn’t that smart.

“I’m going to be so jealous.” You hate yourself for even saying it, but it’s true. Hongseok reaches out, taking your hands in his. “My heart can’t handle it.”

“y/n,” he says. “You’ll always be my best friend, regardless of what happens-”

You pull your hands away from his. You don’t understand how he’s not getting it at this point. Granted, you’re not thinking clearly because of the alcohol, but he should be able to read between the lines.

“That’s not what I meant,” you tell him. “I don’t just want to be your best friend.”

“What?” It seems like it’s starting to click now. But just to be sure, you decide to outright say it.

“I’m in love with you.” It comes out louder than you intended, but the second you say it, you know it’s true. Even though the realization only, truly, hit you today, you’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. Your heart is beating a million miles a minute, but it doesn’t matter. “Hongseok, I love you.”

“You do?” He asks quietly. You nod, too scared to say anything else. “I don’t know what to say.”

You wait, not sure what to say either. Both of you just stand there, awkwardly staring at each other for a few seconds. Panic starts to set in at that point, maybe you shouldn’t have said anything.

“y/n-” You can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s going to turn you down. You really shouldn’t have said anything at all.

“It’s okay.” You cut him off right away. You don’t want to hear him outright rejecting you, not now. “It’s okay.”

“y/n, I-” You reach over and press a finger to his lips. Maybe he’ll just brush it off as you being drunk, that’s what you’re hoping for anyway. You wish you could take it back, but that would be the next best thing.

“Really,” you force a smile. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.” You glance at the time on your phone, realizing your train will be there any second. You don’t want to think about the awkward train ride home.

“Here,” you tell him, gesturing towards the entrance to the train station. “You can take this one and I’ll wait for the next one, it’s okay.” Maybe if you say it enough times, it’ll be true.

“y/n, I can’t leave you waiting here for an hour on your own.”

“Fine, I’ll take a cab,” you tell him. “Just go, before I make a fool of myself again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he walks through the doors, so you awkwardly follow him. “Nothing’s changed.”

That hurts more than an actual rejection. You could tell he doesn’t have feelings for you too, but for him to dismiss your feelings like this stings. You can’t stand sitting next to him in dead silence on a 30 minute train ride. You can feel the tears starting to form in your eyes, but you try to ignore them.

Once you’re both on the platform, the train is already there, waiting.

“I’m going to go down there,” you say to him, pointing to the far end of the train. “Don’t follow me.” You hope he can’t tell your voice is about to break.

“Okay,” he replies, right away. That hurts too. You expect him to say something else, but he jumps into the first car.

You wait until he disappears from your sight before you turn and walk all the way to the other end of the train. Once you’re inside, and you’ve found a seat by the window, you take out your phone. You were hoping there would be some kind of text from Hongseok, but there’s one from your roommate instead.

Hongseok called me and said the two of you are out right now and he was going to take you home but something happened ???

You roll your eyes. You really don’t want to get into this right now. But you text your roommate back and say yes, that’s all true.

he asked me to pick you up from the train station, he said you’re arriving at 11 or so, I’ll meet you there

You immediately respond saying that isn’t necessary.

y/n, he said you’ve been drinking…. he’s worried about you getting home by yourself

The second you read that, the tears start to fall. You hate him so much. How could he have no reaction to your confession, but still worry about you like this? It doesn’t make any sense.

You respond and tell your roommate you’ll be there soon.

As the train pulls out of the station, you rest your head on the window and close your eyes. This train ride is so much different than the one this morning. You honestly wish you hadn’t said anything at all. Now you’ve probably lost your best friend forever.

===

Three days go by without hearing anything from Hongseok. At this point, you don’t know what there is to say. You spent a long time wondering if you should be the first to reach out, but you’ve said all you need to. If you’ve ruined your friendship by telling him your feelings, then that’s on you.

You really don’t want to make things any harder for him. You knew he was trying to get on the show, so you really shouldn’t have said anything to begin with. You hope he still makes the right choice for him, regardless of you confessing.

On Saturday afternoon, the doorbell rings. You expect it to be one of your roommates, as they tend to forget their keys often. When you open the door and see Hongseok, you’re stunned.

“Hi y/n,” he says, smiling. Seeing his face makes you want to smile too, but you can’t, considering all you’ve been thinking about these past few days.

“Hi,” you reply. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry,” he laughs. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Why are you here?”

“I came to say sorry.” You frown. “I was thrown off guard so my reaction may have come off the wrong way, and I’m sorry for that.”

“What do you mean the wrong way?” Now Hongseok looks nervous.

“How did you feel?” He asks you. “When you told me you’d take a different train, why did you say that?”

“You were rejecting me,” you say. “I didn’t want to sit in a train with you for 30 minutes trying not to cry.”

“You cried?” Hongseok looks like he’s about to cry himself, just hearing that. “I’m so sorry y/n.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, shaking your head.

“I withdrew my application.”

“You did what?” You’re shocked.

“I called the producers and told them I wasn’t interested anymore.”

“I hope this isn’t because of me,” you say.

“Of course it’s because of you.”

Hongseok’s looking at you that way again, the same way he did downtown, right before his interview. Maybe he wasn’t rejecting you after all. You suddenly feel really nervous.

“I did some thinking,” he explains. “I did want to be on the show, but it was obviously for all the wrong reasons.” You smile at that.

“So you changed your mind?” He nods.

“I want to stay here, and be with you.” That makes your heart rate jump.

“For the right reasons?” You ask, jokingly.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner,” he replies. “y/n, I love you too.”

You practically throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms are tight around your waist as he hugs you back.

“What if I had changed my mind?” You ask, pulling away a little bit. His arms are still around you.

“I knew you wouldn’t,” he rolls his eyes. “And I have a surprise for you, so that would’ve won you back.”

“A surprise?” Hongseok smiles, letting go of you. There’s a small paper bag sitting outside your front door, to the side, that you hadn’t noticed before. He grabs it, and pulls out your favourite cold drink.

“Here you are.” You say thanks and take a sip. “I have food as well, I was thinking we could go to the park.”

“The swings?”

“The way your eyes just lit up is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.” You roll your eyes at that. “But yes, the swings would be great.”

“Let me grab my things,” you tell him, stepping back into your apartment to get your phone and keys.

“This is going to be such a fun first date,” Hongseok says, as you lock the door.

“Date?” Technically, you knew that’s what this is, but it’s still shocking to hear him say it out loud.

“Yes… If that’s okay.”

“You didn’t bring me a date card though.” Hongseok laughs at that.

“This isn’t Bachelor in Paradise!”

“Well, no, but a card still would have been nice,” you say jokingly. The two of you walk down the hall to the elevator.

“Next time.” You nod in agreement. “Can I offer you a kiss instead?”

“I’m sorry what-” Before you can say anything else, Hongseok takes your hand and plants a kiss on the back of it. “Oh.”

“What did you think I meant, y/n?” He asks, a smirk on his face.

“Don’t worry about it.” The two of you step into the elevator and he pushes the button for the bottom floor.

“As your boyfriend, it’s my duty to worry about you.”

“Boyfriend?” You mean to tease him, but you’re more soft than anything. The word sounds so nice to say.

“Well yeah,” Hongseok says. “You love me, I love you, it only makes sense.”

“You should say that more often,” you tell him, as the elevator stops. He follows you as you step out.

“What?” He asks. “That I love you?” You can’t help but blush.

“Yeah,” you reply, absolutely smitten.

As Hongseok opens the door, and you step out into the warm air, he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I won’t let you forget it.”

[yadds]

Heyyyy so guess who’s not dead!  Anyway, for anyone that’s interested, I’ve decided that I’m not posting ongoing works until I’m done with them then will post as I’m editing.  Sorry!  However, I do have an excerpt that I like a bit that can stand alone, so here it is!  Also, despite the sexual nature of the initial conversation, this is pre-starker and isn’t really much about sex.

Minor background info: Tony has come back from the dead and is still with Pepper but they’re having issues.  Meanwhile, the Starker bromance is developing and they hang out quite a bit.  

____________________________________________________________________

“Spit or swallow?” Peter asked out of the blue as they sat on the couch watching reality tv. 

Tony’s eyebrows were about to climb right into his hairline. “Excuse me?”

“Spit or swallow?” he repeated, over enunciating. “What are your thoughts?”

“Just to be clear, we’re talking about…” Tony trailed off slowly. 

“You know, bjs. Blowies. I’m sure you’ve gotten one once or twice,” Peter said with a roll of his eyes, tossing several pieces of popcorn into his mouth. 

“Yeah, might have happened on a rare occasion,” Tony responded dryly. “Well, honestly I can take it or leave it on the receiving end, doesn’t make that much of a difference to me.”

Peter’s head tilted back and forth, considering, before shrugging. 

“When giving though, I generally don’t like either. Don’t get me wrong, I love going down on people and making them feel good, but I prefer if they don’t finish in my mouth. Obviously I’ve done it before and may very well do it again so I guess I’d probably say swallow? It’s already there, so why make a mess?”

Peter’s attention was now fully on Tony, the TV forgotten in the background. Tony glanced over and smiled wryly when he saw his gaping mouth and red cheeks. “What’s with the stunned mullet impression? Did you not literally just ask that question? Am I going senile already?”

Peter cleared his throat and turned back to face the tv again. “Uh, yeah, I uh I did ask. But I was thinking more on the receiving end - I wasn’t expecting you to talk about giving.”

One of Tony’s brows crept back up. “Oh? And why is that? Because you think I’m a selfish asshole in bed as well or because you think I’m shy?”

Peter shook his head quickly, not catching the amused tilt of Tony’s lips. “No, no of course not! I just didn’t know that you, uh, you know, partake, in partners of the, uh, male persuasion?” If Peter shoveled any more popcorn into his mouth after the desperate handful he just shoved in there, he was going to suffocate. 

“Huh,” Tony said thoughtfully. Had they really never talked about this before? “Well, weird phrasing aside (because that was weird, kid, what’s up with that?), I thought it was pretty common knowledge that I was bisexual.”

Peter shook his head again, glancing back Tony’s way. “Nope, definitely not. At least not in any of the articles or interviews online. I mean, yeah, there are a few sources that mention the possibility of you not being completely straight, but they all sound like speculation.” 

Tony was speechless for a minute. He watched Peter notice the extended silence and seem to realize what he just said, curling forward and burying his face in his hands, ears bright red.

 He finally gathered enough wits to say, “Well, then I guess it was just common knowledge among people who actually know me. SI probably paid off the men I slept with - because heaven forbid the infamous playboy figurehead be seen with a man back in the day. I honestly never paid attention to what exactly was in the press, just made sure I was in it. If I’d known, I definitely would have been more blatantly obvious.” 

He was quiet again for about five seconds before he pulled his leg up on the couch and fully turned towards Peter. “I’m sorry, I tried, but I can’t just let this go. I knew you were a big fan, but sounds like you’ve really done your research, Pete.” He couldn’t drop the shit-eating grin on his face. 

Peter flopped all the way forward, shoving his face into his knees, groaning. “Can we not do this?” he whined. It only took another ten seconds of pointed silence before Peter broke. “Ugh, okay, so I may have had a crush on you when I was younger,” he admitted. “A teeny tiny, definitely not life-consuming, crush.”

Tony laughed. “And when was this?” 

“I don’t know, it started when I was like 13 probably.”

“And you thought you should google my sexuality to see if, what, you had a chance with the guy four times your age that you’d never meet?” Tony didn’t think he’d been this amused in a long time.  

Peter sat back up and peeked at him just to throw him a glare. “Yes, because thirteen year olds are so logical, especially when it comes to hormonal urges.”

“Never would have pegged you for being into older men.”

“Really? Because most people aren’t surprised - I apparently just radiate ‘twink with a daddy kink’,” Peter said matter-of-factly. 

Tony choked, coughing loudly. “I’m sorry, did you just, in a roundabout way, call me a Daddy? In a way that has nothing to do with my daughter?”

“I- can we talk about something else now?” Peter squeaked. 

“That...is probably a good idea,” Tony agreed, feeling his own cheeks heat. 

They both stared very intently at the TV, trying to think of anything else. 

After a while, Peter spoke up. “Why would you do it again?”

“What?” Tony asked, confused. 

“Sorry, I’m back on the spit or swallow question,” Peter explained. 

Now it was Tony’s turn to groan. “I thought we were talking about something else.”

“Yeah, something that’s not my personal and very embarrassing past. Now that I have the question, I can’t think of anything else.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Fine. So why would I do what again, exactly? Give a blow job?”

“Well, I mean, that too, considering that you’re still with Pepper and I’m 99.9999% sure she doesn’t have the right equipment for that. But I was talking about spitting or swallowing. Why would you do either? You said you don’t like it.”

“Relationships are about compromise Pete, even in the bedroom. And I don’t hate it when I’m in the mood for it.”

“What a ringing endorsement,” Peter said flatly. “Yeah, there’s gotta be some compromise, but that should be more along the lines of maybe trying new things that you may not have done on your own but are open to. Doing something you definitively, straight up don’t like in bed should not be one of them.”

Tony looked at Peter, perplexed. “I...don’t even know what to say to that. When did you become an expert in this?”

Peter shrugged. “You’d be surprised how much of my time as Spiderman is spent just lending an ear when people are having a hard time. And sex and relationships come up a lot because I guess it’s easier to talk to a random person in a mask than to someone you know. I try to just listen and not to give advice most of the time, since I’m not an expert and everyone’s situation is different, but sometimes people are in circumstances that are dangerous, emotionally and mentally. So I took a couple relationship health and psychology classes my freshman year in college and read up on some of these things to know what to say.”

Tony’s heart warmed, hearing how earnestly Peter wanted to help people. He smiled softly. “Never thought you’d use that on Tony Stark, did you?” he joked. 

Peter scoffed. “Please, you were like, the poster child for a lot of these issues. I like to think you’ve finally gotten wiser in your ‘old age’, but I’ve mentally given you several high-handed pep talks.”

Tony was taken aback. “Oh? And what was the subject of these pep talks?”

“Mostly self-worth and your complete lack of it.”

Tony chuckled again. “Well maybe you haven’t heard, but I actually have an unrealistically high opinion of myself, kid.”

“Yeah, do you think that if you keep talking about it loudly enough, you might start believing it?” Peter asked, eyebrow raised.

“Excuse me?  I am one of the richest, smartest people on the damn planet.  I single-handedly created a superhero while a prisoner in a cave.  I created clean energy that can power the planet and I’m pretty sure I’m damn close to being able to end poverty,” Tony rebuked, getting irritated.

“I know, so why do you still feel like it’s not enough?” Peter asked with a shrug, pointedly not looking at him.  “All those amazing accomplishments, things no one else would be able to do, but how often do you think about that instead of the few mistakes you’ve made?”

Tony crossed his arms.  “Get out of my fucking head, kid,” he grunted.

Peter turned to him with a grin.  “You think I should change my degree plan and become a shrink?”

“Definitely not.  You’re pretty much done anyway and I need you in my labs, not consoling lunatics like me.”

Peter reeled back exaggeratedly.  “You’re quite presumptuous, Mr. Stark, assuming I’ll be working for you.”

“You’d better,” Tony insisted.

“Is that a threat?” Peter asked cheekily.

“Definitely.”

Laughing, Peter settled back into the cushions and resumed his popcorn eating.

After several minutes of watching TV in silence, Peter turned back to Tony.  “You know I still think you’re just as amazing as you try to say you are, right?”

Glancing at Peter out of the corner of his eye, he shook his head at Peter’s earnest expression.  “No clue why,” he said wryly.  “But yeah, I know.  Thanks, kid,” Tony said, smile soft as his hand came up to grip the back of Peter’s neck before pulling him into a hug.

Tony cleared his throat and sat back before saying gruffly, “Now shut up and watch...whatever the hell it is you’re making me watch.”

Peter snorted but kept his mouth shut.  And as he settled more comfortably under Tony’s arm, his back pressed up against Tony’s side as Tony’s arm draped across Peter’s chest, Tony had to wonder if this is one of the things Pepper had been talking about.

But as he felt the warmth of Peter pressed against him, felt the soft rise and fall of his breathing, felt the proof that Peter was alive and safe, Tony shook away the thought.

_____________________________________________________________________

So I’m starting to see a pattern - I tend to write like hell during the fall and winter and not during the summer at all. So apparently I have an off-season lol.  Hopefully the pattern continues for the next few months and I can get a few projects finished!

[shinymooncolor]

Heyy I LOVE THESE CHATS BABE C-Can we have more Cap + Re? Maybe some Dumo too?🥺❤️👉👈 Either way they're so much fun to read! You have such a beautiful creative mind! Love it!

HI! Of course - I was writing up this little bowl of fluff. :)

@lumosinlove‘s Sweater Weather wolfstar fluff featuring several of her lovely OC’s. 

This is for @siriuslyqueer - I can’t fix everything but here’s a dose of fluffy shenanigans to help a little bit <3. 

Sweater weather chats #7. 

Kris has a blinddate. Remus has an emergency. And he gets a sugar daddy. Sirius babysits. Dumo tries to be sneaky. Logan tattles. Leo shows graphic images. Ava is adorable. 

Enjoy <3 

Friday 3.43 pm

Kris: Hey Re, I’m sorry this is last minute, but I’ve sort of gotten dragged into this blind date thing with Olli and I’ve run out babysitting options. I’d bail on the date but I’m honestly scared what Nado will do as I lost a bet… 

Remus: Of course Kris, when do you need me to look after Ava? 😌

Kris: well it’s tomorrow night… they set it up for 8, so will try and rush it…

Remus: no it’s alright! She can stay. It’s no problem at all or do you want me to go to your house? 

Kris: well, if she’s going to sleep on her own, it’ll be best at ours. I’ll promise to get back and let you go out and live your best kid free life! Haha 😅

Remus: I’d love to! Sirius wants to come too, is that ok?

Kris: haha of course, Ava loves him… It’s unfair.. 

Remus: he’s got that effect on everyone. it’s impossible not to like him. I’m biased. But still! Everybody loves Cap! 

Kris: Thanks Re… and yeah, haha he’s a good one our cap 😉

———

Saturday 4.22 pm

Mom: hi love, I’m so sorry to text this urgently but Jules crashed his bike and is in the hospital with a concussion. He’s inconsolable and asking for you. I know you’ve probably got plans but is there any chance you can fly out here? We’ll help pay for the ticket. 

Remus: Of course!!! Is he okay? What happened? I’m looking at tickets now!!! 

Mom: thanks love. Let me know ok? ❤️❤️❤️

———

Remus ❤️: Shit sorry!!! I have to get to home now!! Jules crashed on his bike and he’s got a concussion… I’m looking at tickets!! And I promised Kris we’d babysit… Fuck I feel so bad!!! 😫

Sirius <3: hey! What? Do you want me to come with you? 

Remus ❤️: I’m sorry but I think it’s best if I go alone. Shit, I want you to come but. You’ve got that interview tomorrow and I don’t know how long I have to stay and there’s practice. I’ve cleared the next few days with the management team. You have practise!! Sorry 🥺❤️❤️

Sirius <3: that’s ok Re. No worries. I hope Jules will be alright. I know tickets are expensive and BEFORE you say no. Please let me pay ok? I just looked online and there’s only first class left. Just charge it to my card, it’s on the table in your kitchen I think. 

Remus ❤️: absolutely not. I might call when he’s better so he can say hi. I bet that’ll help. I’m not charging it to your card. 

Sirius <3: Re please. It’s not a problem and I want to help. How about it’s a loan? 

Remus ❤️: I’m not going to owe you money. It’s fine. I’ve saved up some for emergencies.. I’m not taking charity 

Sirius <3: awww. What if I was your sugar daddy? 😉 We could find a way for you to pay off your debts. 

Remus ❤️:STOP! I’m not even going to think about this. But fine. I’ve charged your card. Better send a list of demands then. Daddy… 

Sirius <3: 😛😛😛😛that’s hot. fuck. 

——— 

Saturday 6.34 pm

Remus: Kris I’m so sorry but I’ve had a family emergency and have to fly home ASAP. 

Kris: whoa are you alright? What happened, is everyone ok? It’s fine, I’ll cancel! 

Remus: I’m so sorry!!! 

Remus: Sirius says he’s happy to come over an babysit 😊

Kris: oh..

Kris: sorry yeah okay.. That’s fine.. Ava does love him! 

Remus: You wound me krissy - you don’t think I can babysit your baby????🤨

Kris: what? Did you steal Re’s phone..

Remus: I’m driving him to the airport. Or he’s driving so I’m texting for him. I can babysit fine. I’ll come over once I’ve dropped off Re. We’re going to have fun!!! 

Kris: thanks Sirius. It means a lot 😊

Remus: well you need to get some action. As your captain I command you to go out there and get some. 

Kris: you sound like Nado. 

Remus: normally that would scare me. But he’s not wrong. You deserve to be with someone okay? ☺️

Kris: thanks Cap! See you soon I guess :) Ava is excited to see you. She’s asking if you want to watch beauty and the beast with her. 

Remus: TALE AS OLD AS TIMEEEE

Kris: see ya! 

———

Saturday 7.21 pm

Kris: hey cap forgot a few things. 1) She can’t sleep with the purple bunny wearing a baby Kuny shirt. Yes I know. The jerk got it for her last time they baby sat and she’s screaming bloody murder when I try to replace with my shirt. 2) she can have the one pudding in the fridge, no more than one 3) she pretends not to know French when she’s shy but be careful, she’s fluent… tricked Nado last time and she knows some unsavoury words now.. 

Sirius: thanks buddy but I got this. Used to babysit for Dumo you know. She’s braiding my hair :))))

———

Saturday 7.22 pm 

Dumo: Kris, you still need a babysitter? Adele can watch Ava tonight. 

Kris: no it’s fine, thanks! Sirius is watching her at home 😊

Dumo: Cap is watching? Is Remus there? 

Kris: no he had something come up. It’s just Sirius 😊

———

Saturday 7.25 pm

Dumo: LOGAN TREMBLAY PICK UP YOUR PHONE WHEN I CALL😡😡😡

Logan: WHOA calm down old man. What’s up? We’re watching a film… 

Dumo: I need you to drive to mine and pick up some cupcakes and then go check on Sirius and Ava. 

Logan: what? Re is there right? 

Dumo: no. just do as I say for once… 

Logan: calm down. I’ll go. Leo is driving. Is Adele home? 

Dumo: yes. And please also check she’s not got “secret” guests. She was very eager to get us to leave. I count on you and Marc to tattle on her. 

Logan: hehe I’ll check. And I’ll scare any potential suiters away. 😏

Dumo: maybe let Leo scare them. Most of the class mates are taller than you. I also called Kasey. Him and nat are checking in too. 

Logan: 😬🤨rude

——

Saturday 8.22 pm

Sirius <3: REMUS THEY’RE ALL CHECKING ON ME?!?!?!?!? NAt and Kase came by to “borrow” a shovel?! THEY LIVE IN A FLAT... That’s the lamest excuse since Leo claimed that hickey on his belly button was from his shaver. He’s got like three body hairs. 😳

Saturday 9.02 pm

Sirius <3: Re, you landed yet? Now Logan and the rest of the muppets are here. With cupcakes. And a cranky car full of Dumo babies. NO ONE TRUSTS ME WITH BABIES

Remus ❤️: I’m sure they’re just checking to see if you’re all okay 😌Be happy your team cares so much. 

Sirius <3: it mean. We had fun. Look she braided my hair 

*sirius with braids by 5-year old Ava*

Sirius <3: I want to keep her. Can we get one? 

Remus ❤️: SIRIUS. Do you want me to get a heart attack? We’re barely out. 

Sirius <3: so. I want to keep her. Hehe 

Remus ❤️:I think you hit your head. But yes. Grab her and run. We can live here 🥰

Sirius <3: 😘😘😘😘😘😘😘

——

Saturday 8.33 pm

Siriusly: YOU ALL THINK I CAN’T BABYSIT? WE WERE DOING FINE BEFORE YOU SENT THESE PEOPLE TO CHECK ON US 

DumoDad: I don’t know what you’re talking about. 

CarbO’Hara: haha you’re not subtle Dumo. Also you’ve got your own problems. HAHA 

DumoDad: WHAT DID SHE DO NOW? I swear to god that girl is worse than the lot of you combined. 😡

Newt-leo: she was just studying with a classmate calm down. IF it helps, I showed them pictured from Celeste’s pregnancy book. Adele vowed to never talk to me again. But rules are rules. 😏

LoganTremblayzzz: I warned her Dumo. Hehe don’t worry Leo chased him off with the book. It’s overly graphic. 🥴🥴🥴🥴

Siriusly: BACK TO THE POINT YOU DON’T TRUST YOUR CAPTAIN!!! THAT’S SUICIDES FOR THE LOT OF YOU TOMORROW 

RussianGod: what I do? 😦

Siriusly: you probably did something else to warrant suicides buddy. 

——

Sunday 10.22 am

Kris: Hey Sirius! I’m really sorry about yesterday. Ava is asking when she can next see you :) Thanks! 

Sirius: no worries buddy. But this doesn’t get you out of suicides. ❤️

Kris: worth a shot

Sirius: 😉 you are cute but you’ve got nothing on tour daughter. She’s a menace when she turns the puppy eyes. 

Kris: tell me about it. She’s currently decorating Nado’s arms with glitter cause his tattoos “are too dark Jackie” - apparently she can call him that…

Sirius: she’s adorable 😊 you’re lucky, both of you! 

Kris: thanks cap!! 

——

Sunday 4.56 pm

Remus ❤️: hey babe. Jules is doing ok. You wanna call him? He’s asking for you 😍

Sirius <3: just call! 🥰

[willcwthewisp]

next in line | marley & willow

LOCATION: willow’s workplace. PARTIES:  @detectivedreameater and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: marley has some questions for willow concerning a missing person from her work. CONTAINS: head trauma mentions.

Marley pinched the bridge of her nose as she fought back the wave of another headache. Her body felt like it was deflating, slowly, with each hour that passed. Her blackouts were getting worse as well, and maybe Erin had a point, maybe she should get Queenie to look at her head. Maybe the crash had done more damage than she thought. Still, she hesitated, because she felt as if something were different this time. Something had changed. She couldn’t put her finger on what, but for now, she would push it to the back of her mind. She was back at work, but only on interrogation terms. So, it was with three other officers, that she’d ended up at a call center where someone had been reported missing. Missing persons were so boring, it was the same ending every time. They were dead or no longer human. In rare occasions, under a fae promise or kept in a vampire’s basement for food. She rubbed her eyes as she went in to her first interview, with one Willow Finch. Her picture looked like she smiled too much, and Marley frowned as she walked in, unsurprised, but still disappointed, the woman matched the photo. She sat in the chair across from her. “Need any water?” she asked, motioning to the pitcher next to them. 

Getting questioned by the police was the absolute last place Willow wanted to be. Sure, they’d brought in literally everyone from the office, but she couldn’t help but feel as if she were the one under a magnifying glass, even if that wasn’t true in the least. They couldn’t have possibly come to ask about the man at her gallery, right? The one who’s arm she’d broken? After all, he said he wouldn’t press charges! But no matter what she told herself, Willow’s foot was still tapping anxiously against the office floor as the detective stood across from her. Detective… “Um- sorry- what did you say your name was?” Had the woman even said her name? She always felt at least a little better when she knew someone’s name. As for the water… “Oh- no thank you! I mean...maybe? Or...maybe not! Sorry- I just don’t know what the protocol is here. Which one’s the one that means you’re guilty again? Drinking the water or not drinking it?”

“Neither,” Marley said unenthusiastically as she watched the woman practically bounce in her chair. She talked a million miles an hour and Marley was tired. She poured herself a glass of water and then the other, scooting the extra glass towards the woman. “Neither means you’re guilty, I’m literally just offering you a glass of water.” And it was the truth, actually. Offering a glass of water was supposed to simply establish a baseline for behaviour, but this woman was so squirrelly, Marley knew immediately that wasn’t going to happen. “Stryder,” she announced sitting back and looking her over. She had big, brown eyes and shiny, blonde hair. She looked so unassuming, sitting across from her, almost an opposite to Marley’s all black outfit and her black hair and dark eyes. “So, first things first. I need you to state your name, age, how long you’ve been working here, and you daily schedule, please.” Maybe this would go better. She doubted it, but she could still hope, right?

“Neither?” Willow echoed with brief confusion, her mind working too quickly and anxiously to realize exactly what Marley meant. “But you can’t do neither- you can only take it or not take it?” How was she supposed to look innocent if neither action was the answer? It dawned on her too late what the detective had actually been getting around to. “Oh- you mean...nevermind…” Willow looked away in her embarrassment, cheeks already heating as a flush came over her cheeks. “Sorry I’m just ah- a little nervous. Not that I have anything to be nervous about!” She didn’t even really know the man that had gone missing due to mostly keeping to herself in the office. There was a reason she’d chosen a job as a telemarketer, and that reason was the exact opposite of any attempts to make friends. “Stryder?” Willow’s head titled quizzically to the side, the name ringing a bell. “You’re the woman who-” The medium glanced around as if making sure they were truly alone before leaning forward and lowering her voice. “-the woman who knows Nora?” Her back straightened against the chair as she prepared to answer the question, as if she were readying for a spelling bee at school. “Right- uh, Willow Finch. I’m 32, and I’ve been working here for…” She did a quick tabulation, grimacing when she realized how long her gallery had been closed. “About six months. Daily schedule like...work schedule or the entire day?”

Yeah, this was going to be a long day. Marley sighed and rubbed her head before setting the file down on the table and leaning forward. Oh, shit, this was that one chick from online? The one Nora had harassed? She almost groaned out loud. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said, tapping the papers, “guess I shoulda figured. Not too many Willows in a town like this.” It wasn’t an accurate commentary, really, just another dry joke. Marley’s specialty. She wrote down all the things Willow told her, watching the woman’s face closely. She wasn’t lying about any of it, not that she thought she would. But the straightened back and the momentary pauses between sentences helped establish a quick baseline, in case she did try to lie. “Like work schedule. I don’t need to know what you do with your free time, besides throw bear people around.”

Great. It wasn’t that Willow didn’t like Marley based on her first impressions online. It was just that the woman had seemed abrasive, somewhat aggressive, and a little dismissive. Okay...maybe she didn’t really like Detective Stryder. But the last thing she needed was for a police officer to know that. “Is there...not?” The medium blinked slowly, apparently not catching Marley’s dry humor in person in that same way it’d flown over her head on the forums. “Okay-” she began with a nod, this time looking as if she were getting ready for an oral examination in front of the class. “Well- I usually work five days a week. I’m full-time.” She’d needed to be to even begin to cover her bills. She’d bought her apartment in the prime of her gallery flourishing, and telemarketing wasn’t quite as profitable. “And uh- when I’m here I just...you know- call people and try and sell them things.” With the mention of bear people, Willow’s voice quieted. “I thought you said they’re called bugbears?”

Marley was just trying to drown the exhaustion out when something felt as if it were being lifted from her shoulders, and her body felt suddenly lighter. So light she almost thought she was standing up, but looked down at her hands and found herself in the same position as before. She blinked, looked around, then back at Willow. Though her head still hurt and her eyes still drooped, she no longer felt the extreme exhaustion she’d had since first waking up from her accident a few weeks ago. “Full time, got it,” she noted, picking up her pen slowly and writing that down, too. She’d completely missed Willow’s first question, but breezed right by it as if it had never been said. “When do you take your breaks? Same time every day?” she asked, glancing across the table to Willow and wondering if she was simply seeing things, or if that side of the room suddenly looked darked. “What? Oh, yeah, they are. It was just-- I just...joking.” 

A heaviness settled onto Willow as Marley spoke, suddenly feeling as if she were carrying more weight than she had been before. Rolling her shoulders, she tried to shake the sensation to no avail. Ugh, was this just another anxious symptom of being interrogated? Maybe she could just go straight to sleep after work, and shake the feeling of being drained by the sensation of being under a microscope. She didn’t feel the need to repeat the question Marley had skipped over concerning her name. The sooner she got out of her the better. “Usually I do. I like to keep a schedule and stuff.” It made it so she knew what to expect of the day. “Every now and then I’ll take it other times, though.” Why did her break schedule matter? Did they think she’d had something to do with the missing person on her breaks? Again she felt the feeling of nerves clawing up her throat, pressing her to ask her next question. “You don’t- you don’t think it was me, right? I mean honestly I would have confessed by now. I’m really bad at keeping secrets that make me feel guilty. You should ask my sister- I always ended up tattling on her, and Forest is a whole other story. Oh- Forest is my brother.” Gosh, that had been a lot of words, hadn’t it? Already it felt as if they were taking a toll on her. A lot of words meant a lot of energy.

“And what time are those breaks?” Marley asked, going down the routine list of questions. No, she didn’t think Willow had anything to do with it, of course she didn’t. The girl had accidentally confessed to hurting Nora like two seconds after finding out Marley was a cop, it was doubtful she could lie even to save her own life. Marley took in a breath and for the first time in ages, felt it reach all the way down to her toes. She couldn’t help but smile a little. “They’re just routine questions,” she told her, tapping the notebook with the pen, like children do when they have too much energy. “The faster you answer them, the faster you get outta here. I know you didn’t have anything to do with it, Willow. You’re a narc, you’d narc on yourself, proof being that you already did it once before.” She gave a smirk, shrugging as she sat back. “I really don’t need to know about your family dynamics right now. But if it turns out you did kidnap this dude, then you can tell me allll about them, sound like a deal?”

The time of the breaks? Willow didn’t understand why these were the questions being asked, and that only sent her a little further over the edge of trepidation. She didn’t know how to give a good answer without knowing what it was Marley was looking for. “Um- I usually take the half hour break first around 12:30 for lunch, and then the fifteen minute break around 3:30.” She liked her mornings longer, saving her break for later in the day when she was less fresh. Now the detective was smiling. Was that good or bad? “Okay...what are the other questions? Or is that all of them?” she asked hopefully, trying to remember if there was any more of the coffee she liked leftover in the breakroom. She wasn’t usually a big drinker of it, but the sudden drowsiness that had taken her over was inspiring her to think differently. A frown came over Willow’s lips, not entirely certain that she liked the way Marley said the words narc, and applied it to her. “What do you mean I did it once before?” Oh god, was Marley lying and she did think that Willow was the reason for the missing person? Had she accidentally somehow admitted to the crime? “I didn’t!” she insisted while her tone grew more worried. “I really didn’t I mean- I don’t even think I could fit a body in my car or anything!”

Marley noted the rest of Willow’s answers and compared them to the notes on when the man went missing, and just like she thought, none of it added up. The poor man had disappeared on the overnight shift, anyway, so interviewing the day shift seemed pointless. But the captain wanted to be thorough, and so they would be thorough. She etched a little note on the pad and closed it, looking up at Willow. “What? Oh, no-- that’s all the questions. You’re good to go.” Except Willow kept talking, rambling, worrying. If this had been ten minutes ago, Marley would have groaned out loud and walked away. But as it were, she was feeling better, so she stayed put. “You practically confessed to me about Nora, remember? You were all worried I was gonna arrest you or fine you or something.” Marley let out a loud chuckle. “Woah, hey, realx, it’s fine. I know you didn’t have anything to do with it. I’m kidding. You really, really need to learn how to read sarcasm.”

“Oh, really?” Willow managed to say once she’d finally processed that she was free to live another day, and the shackles of the man wouldn’t be clapping onto her wrists anytime soon. “Thank god,” she sighed while her shoulders sagged, still a little confused as to why the questions had left her feeling so heavy. Sure- she did poorly in situations where she thought she might be arrested, but her anxiety didn’t usually leave her this level of tired. “Oh right, Nora.” She hadn’t realized Marley had been talking about a time other than today, and it was true that Willow had been all too eager to ‘confess’ her crime of throwing Nora through a window despite the bugbear being the one to break in. Willow blinked while Marley made an attempt to calm her, somewhat surprised that the woman was trying to help in the first place. Maybe she was kinder in person than she was online. “I just...I kinda forget it exists when I’m worried,” Willow admitted sheepishly, generally fine with sarcasm if she wasn’t thinking about everything that could go wrong. “But um- I hope you find him. You know- the missing person.” She knew just as well as any other native White Crester that far more people tended to go missing than were found. It was practically a death sentence in a town such as this. Just the thought of it made her want to lie down.

[eirian-houpe]

I’d love to hear about your experience teaching in Cairo. How did you come to do that? What were your favorite and least favorite parts of it? And anything else you want to share!

Oh my goodness, where would I even start? It's quite the story, and it was quite the experience.  Let's start at the beginning... that seems sensible.

Before I was able to immigrate to the USA (another long story, perhaps for another time), I used to live in England. Through a long series of circumstances, which can basically be summed up by "US immigration rules," I ended up resigning from my full time UK teaching position. Finding a new job when the promised immigration did not happen was nigh on impossible. Then, one day I received a phone call from an agency who had seen my resume online and wondered if I would be interested in a teaching position that had just become vacant in Cairo, Egypt. After much deliberation - quite angsty deliberation as it turned out, I said I would be interested, and here's where everything gets head-spinningly fast.

As near as I can remember the details, I interviewed with the headmaster of the school via skype on a Tuesday. I was offered the position on the Thursday, and accepted the day after, following more soul searching. Later that day I received the E-ticket for the flight to Cairo, which was for the following Tuesday. I basically had the weekend to pack, and prepare myself to move.

The arrangements were that I would be met by a driver at Cairo airport, and driven to the hotel where I would be living for the first few days, until the school provided accommodation. So, I arrived in Cairo close to midnight, expecting to see a little guy holding up a board with my name on.

Nope!

After much wandering around, and with fewer people at the airport, I FINALLY found a dude wearing a CES shirt. (Cairo English School). He spoke no English. I spoke no Arabic. He called someone from the school and we were finally able to communicate via the third party... and I was at last taken to the hotel.  I remember thinking as we drove along that this could all be a ruse, and I could be taken away for human trafficking or murder or whatever. So arriving at the hotel was a HUGE relief.

The following morning, I was picked up by the school bus and driven to the school, quick chat with the Headmaster, and then introduced to the team I'd be a part of. There was a British ex-pat who had married a local, converted to Islam, and was quite the whirlwind. Her name was Sarah. An older gent on the team, think... grumpy old man, and you'd be right.  (Brian) and a guy called Mark who I bonded with almost right away. Turns out that I was replacing a guy who had been fired because of parents complaints about his conduct with the kids.

Literally, I was dropped in at the deep end. Met my class and was expected to teach. Teaching was through English language. On the whole they were good kids.  There are always one or two trouble makers in any class, but it wasn't bad.  They were lively though... a lot of them wouldn't stop talking, one kid in particular, who, after a few days I grew impatient with, and just told him to "Zip it!"  After school that day, my friend Mark took me to one side and suggested that I find a different way to get the kid to shut up. He explained that (close as makes no different), in Egyptian Arabic Zip-it meant 'Penis'  Mortified.  Yes!  After that, I adopted 'Button it!' Much safer. I also decided that learning some Egyptian Arabic might be an idea, and soon!

The next problem came when it was time for me to move out of the hotel into the school provided apartment... except there WAS no apartment. Apparently someone had missed the memo and nothing had been arranged - and now there were no remaining apartments. They said I could stay at the hotel, but I'd have to pay.

Nope!  Enter whirlwind Sarah to the rescue.  She lived in an apartment in a gated community called El ReHab. (Yes, we had fun with that one.  I ended up living in Rehab). She knew a guy that had an apartment. She took me under her wing... had the guy meet us at the place, which wasn't quite ready (needed a good clean) for me to move in, but which was affordable (i.e. would be covered by the housing allowance paid by the school), was in a relatively safe area, (being a gated community and all), and wasn't bad. I have some pictures somewhere, I'll have to see if I can find them.  It had a bedroom, a bathroom, and a kitchen/lounge separated by 'breakfast bar' It also had a washing machine - lifesaver. There was a balcony outside of the bedroom, and while we were there looking around, there was a tiny mewling sound. Turns out a kitten was stuck on the balcony. I would have loved to keep it, but I didn't because, what would I do after a year?  (Contract with the school was for 1 year). Sarah rehomed the little tyke.

The supermarket, and the Souk were within walking distance, although there was a (free) bus service within the city, and the number 5 bus went to and from the shopping district to my apartment area. (five is 0 in Arabic). I pretty quickly learned numbers. A must, because most of the shop keepers chose not to use English - and I guess why should they - even though they knew it. So, unless you could see the display on the register when you were shopping, it was hard to know how much the total was.  However, the cost of living, (in comparison with the US) was RIDICULOUSLY low.  For example, my monthly electricity bill came to the equivalent of about $5 US.

So it wasn't ALL bad - contrary to the way it might sound. Great kids, a good team, and the chance to learn another new language (and I love languages). I'd say I learned 'survival' Arabic at best, and can fully empathize with kids coming in to school as ESL. Sadly through misuse, I've forgotten most of what I learned. I remember 'I want...' and 'I don't want...' (Ana isa & Ana mish-isa respectively). I could probably still count to ten if I really think about it. But with my love of languages, I think this had to have been one of my favorite parts of being there.

Least favorite - being the object of racism - it's way different when you're treated that way, and makes you appreciate what others go through. I was once asked to leave my classroom (I was grading at the back of the class while the Arabic Studies teacher was teaching the lesson). The reason I was asked to leave was because I was not Muslim.

Most surprising - the cold. Say Egypt to most people and they think hot country. Deserts are DAMN cold at night... and in the winter... OMFG.  I literally had to sit 2 feet away from the space heater, wrapped in a blanket to stay warm.  Why?  Well the apartment was built to keep inhabitants cool in the height of summer... (because when it was hot, it was hot!). It was all marble floors and wall tiles, and not at all good for keeping heat in when it was needed.

Where other countries have 'snow days' etc., Egypt has 'sandstorm days'

Most disturbing - when I was there it wasn't long after the revolution, so there would be some days when we would get a call from the school to stay in our apartments and that there would be no school that day due to unrest in the society.

Also, one morning, I saw a man on campus who had a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. Of course I reported it to the headmaster right away, and it was investigated.  Turns out that it was a plain clothes policeman.

Would I go back?  I want to visit for a vacation some day, do all the things that I didn't get to do because I was too busy teaching. The most touristy thing I got to do while I was there was a boat trip on the Nile.  It was a school field trip for geography lesson, and it was in the heart of Cairo.  Let me tell you, that water was NASTY.

Would I want to live/work there again.  No, really I wouldn't. And driving in Cairo... Hell no! New York driving x10 doesn't even come close... maybe if you crossed NY driving with Stock Car racing, you'd come close. Those drivers are SCARY!

It was an experience, and I don't really regret doing it. I think I learned a lot from being there... about people, and about myself.

Thank you for a brilliant ask!

[chaoticgeminate]

Exposed

So I had a plot bunny that ran rampant, after reading the post about it being illegal in France to record/take pictures without consent. It was supposed to be short but apparently I can’t do that? IDK, what started as a 1k word blurb sort of evolved into nearly 7k words in like two hours.

So! Just a heads up for everyone before you click the Read More tag. Contained within this insanity is:

Class salt (moderate) Lila salt (major) Alya salt (moderate bordering major) Ladyblog salt (moderate bordering major) Crush reveal on the wrong side of the mask (MariChat) Supportive Gabriel (shocking, I know, but I had too much salt) Supportive Sabine (again, had a lot of salt, wanted some sweet)

[AO3]

Expelled, again.

Marinette stared at the online course schedule that was now hers to complete, after Lila spread a photo shopped picture that led to bullying and her second expulsion, the only change to this time and the last was that her parents were firmly on her side and didn’t want her going back. Once again there hadn’t been any investigations done, Lila’s mother hadn’t made an appearance in the office, and Principal Damocles hadn’t listened to any arguments of the crime that Marinette was being accused of.

Taking a candle, supposedly, to Lila’s homework packets; but Marinette wasn’t an idiot, she knew exactly what that picture was from and a part of her was pissed at the girl squad. The original photo was from a funeral for her great-grandmother, who had passed away recently, Marinette had been burning joss paper and her mother had taken the photo; the original picture had Marinette in tears with her hair done in a loose bun that her great-grandmother had loved to see her wear.

Lila had photo shopped a picture of Marinette wearing a vicious scowl, no doubt from an argument with Chloe, as well as the school hallway as the background; if you really looked there was obvious distortion around Marinette’s neck and a faint lining around her legs. But the Principal didn’t want to hear that, he declared her a problem and got rid of her, which was now leading to an outraged Tom and Sabine with an emotionally distressed teenager.

Then came the slander against the bakery, the Ladyblog outright posting articles about the supposed incident, with tabloids trying to hop on the trail. Thanks to Nadja Chamack and TVi, after the Ministry of National Education had been contacted with proper proof and documentation, the station had Aurore deliver a stunning counter article about the power abuse and out-of-control nature of the staff at François Dupont with her own private experiences adding to it all.

Chat Noir had been the first hero to make an appearance on the news, on TVi specifically with Aurore sitting across from him, his very public denouncement of the Ladyblog had stunned her to tears when she watched it.

“I’m not allowed to go into detail but I’ve met Marinette Dupain-Cheng, she is a hardworking young woman who fights for her friends and stands up for what she believes in, I can honestly say with one-hundred percent faith that she has never been a bully and that whatever she’s being accused of is just another lie because Lila Rossi feels threatened by her.”

“Another lie, Chat Noir?”

“Yes. I’ve spoken to officer Raincomrpix about this already but during the akuma that was faced named Oni-chan, which was created when Lila lied to get into Adrien Agreste’s manor and then kissed him without his consent before sending the picture to every female on his contact list, Lila Rossi also lied to me directly about being injured to separate me from Ladybug.”

“Wait, so on top of sexual harassment and possible stalking charges she could be possibly accused of aiding a terrorist?”

“Correct, but Ladybug and I agreed not to say anything at first because neither one of us could say for certain if she was trying to separate us or be seen carried by a hero so that she could get fifteen minutes of fame, we didn’t want to make that accusation and be incorrect since it’s a rather big one.”

“Why bring it up now?”

“Seeing as her track record is to lie and make things up, Aurore, I’m certain that photo is false and that she created evidence to frame the girl she sees as a threat in order to get rid of her; I’m angry that the school has mishandled this situation, as this is the second time Marinette has been accused of a supposed crime without investigation where Lila Rossi is concerned.”

“I know of the first, Marinette had told me about it, I cannot believe Principal Damocles and Madam Bustier made the call they did without pulling the CCTV footage from the security desk.”

“Indeed. But I’m here to say that Ladybug and I both publicly denounce the Ladyblog, from here on out, because we don’t endorse tabloids of any kind. Nor do we support or endorse bullying, which Alya Cesaire has been doing to Marinette ever since the accusations against her were made, so any more news on Ladybug and I that is correct will be delivered through TVi or through The Catbug News.”

“Oh, my blog? But I just post memes.”

“Well, Aurore, now you’re going to be our go-to; if you promise to help with submitting akuma locations, tips to avoid being akumatized, and a lot more cat memes.”

While his little stunt with the memes was entirely what she expected, though it was fair for him to ask those to continue because they were hilarious (something she would deny if asked), she had been so touched that she’d suited up and hugged him for a straight ten minutes without a single word before she remembered herself. “For Marinette, she wanted me to talk to you, I was talking with her about everything and she’s a little embarrassed because your faith in her made her cry off her make-up.” He’d gotten a funny shine to his eyes before nodding and purr-omising to stop by too on a night he didn’t have a ton of homework to do, then they patrolled as usual, Ladybug had made an appearance at Aurore’s window and given her own interview.

Talking about the emotional trauma, the fact that Marinette had lured no less than three akuma butterflies, and that she was ashamed that the reporter she once trusted had gone so far as to try and attack a business without proof or evidence. The heroine had gone on to agree with Chat, that The Catbug News would be the go-to source along with TVi for any official news that came from the heroes directly, before she looked right at the camera. “I also want it known that Rena Rouge and Carapace, along with Queen Bee for obvious reasons, have been permanently retired and will no longer be seen.” While she couldn’t have used them again after Hawkmoth learned their identities with Miracle Queen, something she’d planned to talk to them about, she’d purposefully made that public as a definite revenge move.

Hawkmoth had tried but with Ladybug and Chat on city watch, patrolling houses of all former heroes, there hadn’t been any akuma that spouted up because she was purifying them before they could reach a target.

That had all been two days ago, now Marinette was enrolled in classes online as the Ministry did their investigation into both incidents, the teenager stared until the screen blurred after a busy day of talking with agents and her new therapist; everyone was on self-harm watch, afraid she’d resort to cutting or starving herself out of misery. Gentle tapping at her skylight made her look up at the glowing green eyes, it was dark enough that they were the only visible thing in the square panel, Marinette moved up onto her bed and pushed the window open before gesturing the hero to enter.

He hesitated a moment, for good reason since this was Marinette and not Ladybug, they’d only had maybe three or four meetings outside of the suit; but he did take up her offer when the thunder rumbled, his lean form landing on his knees so he kept his boots off her blankets. “Uh, hi Princess, I wanted to check on you; Ladybug pointed out-“ He didn’t get to finish his statement at all as she threw herself at him with a wail, finally able to express her gratitude properly as she clung to him, his stiff posture faded as he wrapped his arms around her gently and rubbed her back.

“Ch-chat why is this happening? What did I- what did I do wrong?” It was a question she wondered for a while now, just what happened that led to the universe throwing all this at her, why was it that she always had to fight and struggle for every little thing? His grip tightened and a low croon vibrated through him, not quite a growl and not quite a comforting hum, something between that was a strange mix of human and cat.

His voice was rough and she felt his tears as he sniffled. “Nothing, Marinette, you have done nothing wrong; I am so sorry that this happened, that I let it get this bad without trying to do something about it sooner.” Like always he was trying to take the punishment and blame, in and out of the suit he was trying to keep all the fault and punishment off her, it was both heartwarming and heartbreaking enough that Marinette’s tears grew and her body broke into heaving sobs against his shoulder.

Calming down took a long time, especially since it led to calming him down too now that he was worked up from her own tears and misery, Marinette stroked his hair gently and made sure to help him dry his own eyes. “It’s not your fault, Chat, you had hero things to do and you have a life outside the suit that I don’t know about; but I can promise you that I don’t blame you, or anyone really, except Lila and now Alya and the other. Except Adrien, he did call me to apologize and promise he’d try and come up with something to help, but he was also the only one who knew that she was a liar aside from me. He was right though, in the beginning at least, because she should have lied herself into a corner by now if the teachers and students had paid attention at all. It wasn’t until the first expulsion incident that it got really bad, she accused me of cheating on a test and then stealing her grandmother’s pendant as well as pushing her down the stairs, Adrien tried to speak up for me but Principal Damocles wouldn’t listen.” Marinette couldn’t stop the soft blush or the warmth in her face, even if he didn’t like her back she was touched that he’d tried to do something.

Chat coughed into his hand and glanced around the room. “You a fan of his, Princess?” He nudged her and Marinette decided that she had to trust her partner with something.

“Well, I’m his friend… I hope. But, uh, I wanted to be more; at least, before he met Kagami and asked me to help him on his date with her. I mean, I like him and would love to hold his hand in a totally non-platonic way, but his happiness is more important and if he likes Kagami then I’m not going to interfere with that either.” Kagami was her friend and they had a long talk with a promise at the end, regardless of who Adrien chose (even if it wasn’t one of them) they would be friends and they would not treat whoever he dated with any negative attitude, Marinette was tired of everything she did being about a boy and all her negatives supposedly being about a boy.

There was a high-pitched sound, not unlike a tea kettle boiling, that made her look at Chat; his face was flushed and his pupils were shot wide, tail jerking and ears twitching. “You- him? For how long? If I might ask, I mean, I’m just- I thought you liked guitar boy.” Marinette tilted her head at the silly cat as she thought of Luka, then of the strange up and down relationship with Adrien that she had, before she smiled fondly.

It was sort of embarrassing but it was nice to talk about. “I, uh, didn’t like him at first; I didn’t even know who he was, I followed his father for fashion but most of my stuff is women’s wear so I wasn’t much for watching the men’s portion of runways. I thought he put gum on my seat and when Chloe and Sabrina giggled about it, well, I really just laid into him and didn’t even let him say anything before I accused him of being a bully. But, well, it was after you and Ladybug saved Ivan and Mylene the second time… I forgot my umbrella and it was raining. Adrien was- I wasn’t going to listen to him, but he went out of his way to admit the truth to me, he could have just gone on his way and not confessed anything at all.” Marinette would never forget that gentle, almost pleading expression, that he’d worn.

The lonely Prince trying to make friends. “He didn’t have to try and clear the air between us, he could have made friends with everyone else and ignored me, but he did try to make things right; then he, well, he offered me his umbrella. Since that afternoon I was lost, I fell for him really hard to the point that I still struggle to even talk around him, I mean… I know I’m not perfect but I want to be for him and I’m terrified that if I confess he’d tell me no and then decide that it was too awkward to even be my friend anymore.” A fear that she knew was sort of silly with how valuable Adrien held his friends, something she probably didn’t need to worry about at all, but it was one she couldn’t ignore.

Chat’s blush hadn’t quite died down but he had lost the shocked look, which was sort of a relief, Marinette looked at him and wondered if maybe he’d seen her with Luka sometime and jumped the gun on who she liked. “I don’t think he’d do that to you from what I’ve seen of him, but I won’t push you to confess or anything because that’s not fair to you.” Hearing him say that just brought another wave of emotions down on her that made a swell of relief flood her, she wasn’t at school and that meant no more set-ups by Alya, she could finally do things at her own pace.

“Thank you, Chat. My best friend-“ The words choked quiet and she drooped. “F-former. My former best friend, Alya, was really pushy when it came to trying to get me to confess to him. It’s a relief to hear you say that because you’re the first one.” His hand settled on her back and Marinette sank into his hold, he laid back and kept his feet off the bed as he pulled her into a cuddle with one hand carding through her now loose hair.

Marinette sighed as the exhaustion from stress finally took over, lids drooping as Chat purred her to sleep.

Working on her Physics, puzzling through the equation she had to do, Marinette completely missed her Maman calling out to her and missed the opening of her door. “Hey Marinette!” Adrien’s voice registered after all of two minutes and she abruptly shrieked as she turned, feet tangling in her blankets as she also tried to stand up, a painful kiss with the floor was inevitable until she was practically snatched out of the fall and pulled into a leaning position against Adrien. “It’s just me, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Mouth opening and closing rapidly, her face flushing with color since she was most definitely wearing her Chat Noir onesie that she’d made and never planned for anyone to see, the teen struggled against her blanket snare before shaking her head and clearing her throat.

“You’re fine! I mean, it’s fine- not that you aren’t fine- I mean, uh-“ His hands squeezed her shoulders and Adrien’s fond smile made her brain blank as he chuckled, his finger pressed to her lips and his bangs falling just so as he tilted his head. It was not a look she’d associate with Adrien, since she had only fantasized about his romantic gestures, but it was familiar in a way that she couldn’t quite place.

His cheeks were pink and she felt her own flame in response to his blush. “You’re so cute, Marinette.” Somewhere she thought a record scratched loudly, her heartbeat thundering in her ears at his words as they registered, she wasn’t even sure what color her face was anymore because she was sure that it was purple with how hard it was to breathe all of a sudden. “Uh, wait, I-“ A frantic sort of panic ruined the soft look on his face. “I mean- you are cute but I didn’t want to- I have an idea on how to really end the thing with Lila!” How did that equate to her being cute, she didn’t quite know, but all of a sudden she couldn’t tear her focus from the possible end to it all.

Marinette blinked rapidly and he took that as a sign to continue. “You heard Alix, Alya, and the others; she admitted she took that photo of you to them, they quoted her and Alya had video proof Lila verbally admitted it.” This made her nod warily since she knew that much, it was why the girls had gone on a crusade against her and reported it to the Principal. “It’s illegal in France to take pictures without anyone’s consent, why do you think fans don’t flood my photoshoots and paparazzi are practically non-existent unless they crowd me asking for my allowance?” Everything in her swelled and she couldn’t help but throw herself at him with a squeal of joy because, holy shit, she had everything she needed.

“Adrien Agreste, you genius, I could kiss the hell out of you right now!”

His arms had wrapped around her to hold her steady, as she’d thrown hers around his neck in her jump, so there was no escaping her words as she floundered in a panic and her brain scrambled for something to say. “I wouldn’t stop you, in fact I’d kiss you back if you did.” His voice made her pause, his words registered once her heartbeat muted a little for her poor brain, and then she found herself pulling back to stare up at him as he looked back at her. He slid one hand up to take one of her hands from behind his neck, kissing her knuckles as he wove their hands together and brought it to his mouth, her ears were ringing and she was struggling to even breathe.

A part of her worried that this was all a dream, that she’d wake up and be heartbroken, but when he smiled and leaned down a little she couldn’t find it in her to care. “With your permission?” His request was a whisper and his breath tickled her lips as his forehead pressed to hers, Marinette swallowed as she dipped her head a little.

“Please?”

He sighed into the kiss and she whined softly against his mouth, his lips were warm and soft and perfect, the whine faded to a satisfied hum of delight because she was finally kissing Adrien Agreste. One kiss became two, two became a few more, and soon she found that she quite liked when his hand pressed to her lower back and that he practically purred when she sank her hands into his hair. It was clumsy and wet, their teeth often scraped together as he angled his head to explore her, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with her tongue but she didn’t care. It was perfectly imperfect for a first kiss.

Loud ringing from his cell made him wince and look at the alarm. “I told the Gorilla I’d be out before we couldn’t use traffic as an excuse, I really have to go, but look into suing her for use of your picture without consent. I’ll call you when I finish eating and we can talk about, well, us.” Marinette nodded and practically swooned as he turned to descend from her room, her face was warm and she was really happy, it was amazing. “Oh, uh-“ He peeked at her over the top of the floor. “I love your onesie, it’s really cute with a soft material.” Then he was gone and she was left staring down at herself, realizing she’d just kissed Adrien Agreste while wearing a Chat Noir onesie with cat ears on the hood and a fluffy belt tail that was very detail specific.

Tikki was shaking her head as she emerged from her hiding place, the string of silk lanterns were a great way to offer Tikki more than one place to hide if someone came in, they were all different colors and some had tealights while others didn’t; the Kwami giggled fondly when Marinette abruptly turned and returned to her schoolwork. Adrien still had to eat lunch and Marinette didn’t even know where to begin with pressing charges against Lila for the picture, whether it was the police she had to talk to or just a lawyer, but she had time to find out. “I’m happy for you, Marinette, even if the circumstances leading to this aren’t ideal. Maybe things will be better now.” A dreamy sigh escaped her and the teen knew that schoolwork was a bust until she and Adrien finally talked, choosing to take a break for lunch.

“Thank you, Tikki, I’m going to head downstairs. I’ll bring up some cookies for you.”

Hearing her Maman in the kitchen, grinning at the plate of bao on the table, the teen walked up and began helping with stuffing the remaining pouches of dough after washing her hands and tugging up her sleeves. “Maman, uh, Adrien kissed me.” It wouldn’t do to try and hide anything from her parents, not now that she had their trust in her again, if she wanted to hide being Ladybug and the Guardian than she’d have to admit about the relationship possibly changing. Her mother’s smile was warm and Marinette giggled as her Maman bumped her hip against her since their hands were now covered in filling.

Marinette heard the soft hum, affectionate and loving, before her Maman finally replied to her confession. “He told us when he dashed out that he liked you and wanted to take you on a date sometime when he was free, if his Father agreed to it, Tom nearly stopped him from leaving in order to ask him what the wedding colors would be.” That made her choke and very nearly fling pork filling into the air, laughter from the elder made her look and glare at the mischief in her expression. “Sorry Marinette, I couldn’t resist at all, but he did tell us about the date request. I’m happy for you, baobei, and if you need to talk to us about anything please don’t think we won���t listen to you first.” Marinette knew exactly what her Maman was talking about, since she told them about Evillustrator and they had been there for the Chat Noir fiasco, the elder woman had pulled her aside and talked about consent and STI’s as well as birth control.

While the topic had been embarrassing to endure, she was only fourteen and just the thought of kissing Adrien was enough to get her light-headed, she knew it came from a place of love and wanting her to be educated. Especially since Marinette knew that Alya and Nino had already done the horizontal tango, because Alya had gone right to the girl squad and told them in vague terms what happened, while her Maman knew because Marinette had asked if fourteen and fifteen were too young for that sort of thing. “I know that and I’m sorry I made you and Papa feel like you did something that made it so I didn’t trust you, I just wanted to try and handle it on my own since that’s what I thought I had to do, thank you for understanding. Oh!” Marinette had almost forgotten about the picture thing. “Adrien suggested I should look into pressing charges against Lila for taking a photo without my consent because it’s illegal in France, we know the photo is fake but the school doesn’t think so, if we press charges then she’ll have to admit it was false.” A considering look grew on her Maman’s face before she leaned down to kiss Marinette’s forehead and smiled.

“That boy is a genius, baobei, I never thought of that. I’ll discuss it with Officer Raincomprix after you return to your studies. Now I know you’re waiting on a phone call, instead of helping me why don’t you wash up and take some of the cooked bao to your room.” Marinette grinned and washed her hands after setting aside the last bun she was working on, taking three cooked bao for herself to munch on, she also snagged a few cookies as well as a small bowl of noodles before dashing upstairs. Tikki took her prizes to the shelf that sat just above the trash can, a small toothbrush had been modified to act as a duster so the Kwami could just brush her crumbs into the trash, Marinette pushed her keyboard aside and started eating as she turned on the demo album Jagged had sent her so she could work on the cover art.

Chiming made her answer the video call, Adrien was flushed and she realized he had the phone angled so she could be seen by the others in the room with him, Gabriel Agreste was seated behind his desk and Marinette nearly choked swallowing a mouthful of food. Adrien flushed in a slightly panic. “Sorry Marinette! I didn’t think to text you first, are you okay?” His concern was sweet and she gave him a thumbs up as she downed some water to regain her ability to talk and breathe.

He didn’t look convinced. “I’m okay Adrien, you just startled me, I wasn’t exactly expecting to be seen by too many people.” The unspoken indication to her pajamas were there and didn’t need to be verbalized.

“You are supposed to be comfortable in your own home, Miss Dupain-Cheng, I shouldn’t have asked Adrien to call you while I am an audience without proper warning. I merely wanted to ask you of your intentions with my son.”

Marinette blinked and then again, realizing Gabriel had sort of asked her a serious question. “Well, sir, I just was hoping to at least try and go on a few dates to see if we’re a compatible couple. I really like Adrien, not just because of his looks but because he was kind and he went out of his way to apologize to me for a rather dumb jump of conclusions on my part when he could have just ignored me for the rest of the year. He’s been nothing but kind, patient, and understanding while I really just fumbled around like a spazz worried about being perfect to make him look my way.” It was something she’d been fighting to admit to herself since her therapy visit a few days back, that she was so scared of disappointing people that it made her lose all will to say no or made her do stupid things to try and impress others, it was something her therapist wanted to work with her on specifically.

“Would you be adverse to attending dinner at our home, with your parents, on Thursday? I would very much like to meet you again, in person, with your parents to work out the boundaries and rules. I’d also like to offer some advice in dealing with the public reaction that will no doubt come when it reaches social media that you two are in a relationship.”

Dinner with Adrien and his Father? It almost made her want to hurl that he was, apparently, approving of their relationship being a thing. “Let me, uh, Maman is downstairs; let me find out if she and Papa have anything planned for Thursday.” Marinette took the phone with her as she hurried down the steps. “Maman? Do we have dinner plans for Thursday at all?” The elder turned around and Marinette turned the phone to show just who was on the call.

“Ah, hello again Adrien. Hello Monsieur Agreste. We do not, baobei, would you be asking for a date evening or is this for us to get acquainted with Adrien’s father?” The ridiculous levels of motherly intuition were still a shock and Marinette was wondering if maybe she wasn’t so slick in hiding her hero life, if she was hiding that from Maman’s apparent psychic abilities then it was where any and all good luck had to be going.

“I’d very much like to meet you and your husband in person, Madam Cheng, as well as discuss any boundaries or rules we’d like in place.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea, Thursday evening is perfectly fine, Tom and I can bring desert. Are there any food allergies we need to worry about?”

“None at all, Madam Cheng, do my chefs need to know anything to avoid?”

“Only that Marinette is extraordinarily picky with her vegetables will not touch brussel sprouts no matter how they’re prepared for her.”

“Maman! You’re embarrassing me.” Marinette’s whine earned a chuckle from the older woman along with a forehead kiss and a one-arm hug since she had one hand with bao filling on it still.

A blush had to be on Marinette’s face because she felt warmer. “Oh baobei, I’m your Maman and it’s my job to be embarrassing, I love you.” That made the teen tug at her hood in a guilty sort of way, she hadn’t meant to imply anything.

“I love you too, Maman.” The mumbled reply earned another chuckle from the elder woman.

“I shall ensure that the menu is acceptable to everyone, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Adrien and I still have a few things to discuss, he will be calling you after his fencing lessons today I’m afraid.”

Marinette nodded and ended the call after exchanging goodbyes. “I’m going to go finish lunch now.” Her Maman’s laughter followed her up the stairs and the teen quickly began to shovel food into her mouth.

School had become a warzone.

Adrien stalked by Kim, Max, and Alix as they murmured in low voices at their lockers; it had been a week since the incident and he was no less angry about how everything had turned out. Juleka and Rose were whispering with wide eyes and visual concern for the state of the tension in the room, Nathaniel was walking with his head ducked and hiding behind Ivan as the taller boy comforted the very flustered Mylene. Alya’s rampage hadn’t quite ended yet after he, in a protective decision that was admittedly very petty the more he thought back about doing it, publicly shamed her blog while in his other alias; the Ladyblog had gone from the number one source of Ladybug information to bottom of the bucket after TVi and the heroes had gotten done with it. The reporter was still stomping around spitting fire at anyone who so much as blinked at her wrong, Nino had backed away from trying to talk her down and instead could be found with his headphones on at his seat, Lila was happily sitting in Marinette’s former seat talking about how she and Ladybug were fighting after what they’d done to poor Alya when the reporter was only doing the right thing and making sure a bully was exposed.

People were wary of Lila, now Alya too, after the TVi return fire; naturally so after the station tore apart the interview that rocketed Alya to fame just the night before and Adrien knew that none of his class had seen it yet with just how they were not shouting or even attracting akuma yet. When they did, though, it would be even uglier. The station had contacted Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, Prince Ali’s PR team, and even the Italian Embassy just to prove what happened when a reporter never researched or checked their facts.

“Adrien, you’re still going to help me study today, I cleared my schedule for this afternoon.” Lila had waited for everyone except the teacher to enter the room, to hear the implication that he’d offered to help her before this, usually he would either make an excuse or he’d play along to avoid a scene. But after what she had done and the trouble she caused, hearing the anguished tears and seeing Marinette break down because people she thought were her friends hadn’t even believed her, Adrien was done playing nice.

There was no reasoning with someone who was proving to be a problem in the worst ways. “I never offered to help you study after you lied your way into my home and got my father’s assistant and my bodyguard in trouble because of it, Lila, I deal with enough stalker fans and I’m not going to tolerate my classmates doing the same.” Throwing the word stalker in there was all he needed to do to throw another wave of tension in the room, Chloé and Sabrina both jolted in their seats after they had dealt with a stalker at the hotel during the blank period after the blonde transformed on television, the rest of the class stared as Adrien leveled Lila with a look.

A touch of anger and disgust was blanked before a false confusion and whimper made her look very much like a victim, the fake tears were a decent touch. “I have CCTV footage from the mansion of everything that you said in the hall, when you first told Nathalie that you were there to help me catch up on my work and then when you told me father that Nathalie asked you to tutor me. Along with kissing me without my consent, as well as taking a photo of me without my consent, then sending it to every female on my contact list specifically? Every action of yours has proven that you’ll do and say anything to look good and get what you want, which obviously is me, but I’m no possession and I’m not going to tolerate some fangirl use me as a means to get famous.” He wasn’t shouting at all and his anger was quiet, calmer despite the intensity behind his words, it was very similar to his Father and Adrien could see that Lila was shaking.

But it wasn’t his place to fully expose her, it wasn’t his place to make the class see just yet how badly they’d messed up, he looked right at Ivan in the back row. “Ivan, can we switch seats? I don’t feel safe with Lila hovering behind me.” The taller boy goggled for a moment and then nodded while gathering his things as Adrien did the same, trading places and waiting for the teacher to enter without another word, Alya was staring at Lila who was frantically trying to regain control of the situation until Madam Bustier walked in with a few people.

Showtime was here and it was a lot sooner than he’d thought, which he should have expected after his Father heard the extent of just what Lila had done and caused, the AGRESTE legal team had been launched into action with lawsuit after lawsuit on behalf of the company as well as Adrien personally and the Dupain-Cheng family. 

Adrien didn’t hesitate to turn the recorder on his tablet, for Marinette to see later, since it wouldn’t go public. “Lila Justine Rossi you are hereby under arrest for two counts of unlawful photography, one count of verbal harassment, one felony count of truancy, multiple counts of false signatures on legal documentation, and one count of malicious intent to slander an innocent party.” Adrien blinked at just how much they were slamming on her now as her Mother, he could only assume by the quiet stare and droop of her shoulders, watched with a blend of horror and sadness.

Lila didn’t disappoint at all. “I’m the daughter of a diplomat, you can’t arrest me!” The real fear in her voice made it sort of a shriek.

“I suggest you remain quiet, as anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law, your diplomatic immunity was revoked the moment your truancy was revealed and once the French Court is done with you there will be a ban on your VISA as well as your Mothers and you will face justice under the Italian court system per the ruling of the Italian Embassy in accordance with France’s president.” Having her out of Paris was another plus, Adrien would admit, no akuma would pop up in her whole anger and hatred thing and he did cast a suspicious look around the school. But there were no signs of black butterflies, even Hawkmoth seemed to be avoiding this situation.

As she was handcuffed and her things were gathered, tears pooling in her eyes, the girl seemed to finally decide the truth was necessary. “I never took that picture of Marinette, it was photoshopped after Alya sent me a picture of her doing some stupid Chinese ritual thing, she bullied me first and-“ The officer didn’t even allow her to continue speaking.

“We have recorded evidence, from a video posted to the Ladyblog, where you specifically and verbally admitted to taking said picture which led to a vicious slander attempt of a local business. Please keep moving or I will be forced to carry you to the cruiser.” Adrien watched as the officers led them out and Lila finally quieted, he saved the recording to send to Marinette and made sure it went before he deleted it, the room was quiet enough that the buzzing from the fluorescent lights was deafening. Even Madam Bustier was staring outright at the door, sinking into her chair with a very heartbroken expression on her face, but she’d helped lead to this and Adrien wasn’t exactly happy with her either.

Adrien jolted in an instant. “Wait, that psycho photo shopped a picture of my girlfriend at a funeral for her tài lǎo lao?” He noticed the looks and glared at all of them. “Traditional Chinese funerals include burning joss paper.” It really explained the whole reason that Sabine, Marinette, and Tom were so infuriated by everything; Adrien really wanted to go cataclysm her, consequences be damned.

It was Alix who jolted out of her stupor first. “Guys there’s no way Marinette will ever forgive us.” The room burst into frantic murmurs of ‘oh God what have we done’ and ‘how could we have been so stupid’ around him, Alya was shaking in her seat and Nino wasn’t moving, but the worst of all was their teacher who was whiter than paper with tears sliding down her face as she clenched her eyes tightly. There was a light tap at the door before a severe man in a proper suit, along with another severe man in a less formal dress style, gestured to the redhead.

The less formal man entered the room and closed the door behind him. “Good morning students, I am Baxter Kennedy and I’ll be taking over the role as your teacher for the rest of the year, we are aware of what just occurred only minutes ago and as such I have had the Ministry of National Youth and Education send in a psychologist who specializes in youth groups to spend the rest of the day with you. We are quite understanding that nothing will really stick if we try teaching today.” Adrien watched as the severe man returned without Madam Bustier and leaned into his seat.

“I am Doctor Oscar Bennet, I would like you to introduce yourselves before we begin.”

He hadn’t expected a therapy session today but Adrien figured his input wouldn’t be as important. Oh, how wrong he had been though.

Doctor Bennet made it apparent quick quickly that while Adrien’s reasoning for being quiet was sound when dealing with the paparazzi and tabloid spreads, as denying it only made it seem truer, a school bully was an entirely different beast and his request for silence had helped bring things to this point. The model was left exhausted, picked apart mentally, and wondering if he could schedule sessions with Doctor Bennet privately because he’d actually learned a lot about himself and his reactions in his short talk with the man.

Like his relationship with his Father, which was almost nonexistent by this point, was actually a problem that needed to be addressed because Gabriel was prioritizing his grief and his company over his relationship with his own offspring. That his lack of control in things like his attire, his diet, his hobbies, was leading him to being a potential control freak when he did finally gain independence or not being able to exist on his own at all.

Alya had spent ten minutes into lunch screaming at him, blaming Adrien for not speaking up as to why her blog was ruined and she’d lost her best friend, until Doctor Bennet pulled her aside and disappeared into the room set up for him. Alya’s parents arrived not long after and Adrien shook his head, Nino looked a little disappointed but even agreed that he should have trusted Marinette and not blamed everything on her jealousy over Adrien. Nobody else tried talking to him, which was good, or even asked him to talk to Marinette for them.

Things were going to get better, he knew, now that the right steps were in place. Principal Damocles and Madam Bustier, as well as the rest of the staff, were required to take remedial training seminars on bullying; the Principal had been forced to forfeit his position to the man assigned by the National Youth and Education Ministry, Oswald McKinney. Madam Bustier’s teaching license was being revoked until she completed multiple courses on bullying, how to handle claims of plagiarism or theft and even destruction of private property. Chances of her being given to a higher-level class were slim after this, if she even was allowed to teach again, but that wasn’t his concern.

Adrien grinned at the big smile on Marinette’s face as he dipped into the bakery for lunch period and slipped a rose into her hand with a wink, her face flushed and he couldn’t help but press a kiss to her nose, he did squeak when she hauled him down by the collar to leave a searing kiss on his lips before she scampered up into the apartment with a giggle and a reminder that Kagami was waiting for him to join them.

Things weren’t perfect but they were getting there.

[atlantathecity]

Looking back on 10 years of posting about Atlanta

by Darin Givens

Amid my crushing COVID-19 anxiety, I’d like to distract myself for a few moments with this thought: It has now been 10 years since I first took the handle “ATL Urbanist” and started writing about the urban design of Atlanta with a critical eye. Here’s why I did it.

Not long after our son was born, I was temporarily without a car. During that time I was continually stunned by how awful it was to get to a grocery store while pushing a stroller, even in an ostensibly “walkable” Atlanta neighborhood. The design of streets and shopping centers seemed to welcome dangerous driving while treating everyone outside of a car like a second class citizen.

Obviously, this was a lesson that many others in far worse economic and geographic positions than mine had learned before. But it was new to me. I decided to use my journalism and freelance-writing experience to research urban planning in Atlanta and write about it.

After a couple of years reading up on the subject it became clear that many good practices in urban design, accepted in cities worldwide, were not taking hold in Atlanta. Professional planners intown understood the “right” things to do, of course. But leaders at all levels (government, commercial, neighborhood) would push back — too often with success. There was a stifling opinion among locals of Atlanta being a “place where everyone drives,” where attempts to change car culture were futile.

I started writing about these things online, sharing what I was both learning about and experiencing (such as my MARTA bus trips involving tough terrain, above). The response to my posts was a little overwhelming. My Tumblr had over 23k followers, I was interviewed for radio, newspaper, TV, podcasts…it was gratifying, but I knew that I was an odd representative for urbanism not being a planning professional.

Feeling ill equipped to be a spokesperson, I got together with a group of locals (including actual professionals in urbanism issues) and we formed the ThreadATL initiative to advocate for good urbanism in the city, and to say things out loud that others weren’t saying.

Last year, ThreadATL became a legit 501c3 with a 10-person board, all volunteer. We’re working through a long strategic planning period to decide what we’ll do for the next few years and what resources we’ll need. I’m apparently going to have to learn to ask for money, which is daunting.

More recently, things have taken an odd turn for me. An advocacy story that started off with my struggle to safely push a stroller on Atlanta sidewalks has come full circle. Several months ago, a health emergency damaged nerves in my head. I now walk slowly with a cane, unable to drive. Once again battling with car culture on a personal level.

I first experienced the difficulty of navigating a car-centric city through the eyes of a father caring for a baby. Now I experience it as a mobility-impaired person who often has difficulty crossing a street before the walk signal ends, while drivers edge towards me in the crosswalk. This is something I thought about recently when I had to lean on my son’s shoulder (he’s a tall teenager now) to steady myself. These days, he helps look after me.

The importance of advocating for a city design that prioritizes walking, public transit, cycling, affordability, climate goals, equity — it’s clear to me in different ways now than it was before. I’m grateful to all the experts who’ve given me knowledge along the way, and to my co-volunteers.

I’m also grateful to all the folks who’ve sent kind messages over the years to let me know how my posts have inspired them. And to everyone who sends corrections when I’ve posted something in error (it takes a village!).

I have no illusions about the impact I’ve had. I know that I’m just a writer who’s part of the conversation about the city’s urbanism, while the big impacts come from professionals and political leaders. But I feel privileged to have a role to play, and to be able to contribute as an advocate.

Thank you, Atlanta.

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Outside the Rain - Harry Styles Series (Part 17)

Part 16

“Hottest Couple of 2019? Y/N and Harry Styles have been photographed together a lot this year. The first time was during the Rock ‘N Roll Hall of Fame where both were there to honor Rock Legend Stevie Nicks. The two were then seen together at the Met Gala and the Gucci Cruise Show over the summer. They were both seen at the VMA’s, where Styles was not performing or nominated for an award. While the two didn’t sit together, they were seen at the same after party. Most recently the two were seen in LA, first Harry was seen attending Y/Band’s/Name’s concert, and then again arriving together at the after party. A few days ago, they were photographed leaving a cafe with Y/N’s famous drummer father, and her songwriter mother. 

While they could simply be just friends, it seems they are extremely close. We’ve reached out to both parties and are still waiting on a comment regarding the status of their relationship. But what we can confirm is that we are here for this coupling and are ready to declare them the Hottest Couple of the Year!” 

**

Meetings, meetings, interviews, and more meetings. That is what your schedule and life had entailed over the last few days. The album would be coming out soon and you all were going over the promo plan. When you received your schedule for the remainder of the year, you couldn’t be happier at seeing some dates in London and the UK. You just hoped that Harry’s schedule worked out for those dates. 

Speaking of Harry, it had been almost a week since he left, and while you were distracted with work during the day, at night it was strange coming home to an empty house. What’s even stranger is that that used to be your norm. It never phased you before coming home and it being silent or that you’d cook dinner for just you. But after having Harry here off and on over the last few months, it changed what you were used to. 

Even though you and Harry had only really been official for a little under six months, you couldn’t help, but wonder what the two fo you would do once you two moved towards the moving in stage. Of course, that was a long away, especially since you’d be going on tour for the majority of 2020, even if you wanted to move in together, that wouldn’t be an option. 

After the photos of you and Harry leaving the restaurant with your parents, dozens of articles were written up and posted online. All of your and Harry’s fan accounts quickly started reposting the pap photos and photos from the events you two had attended previously. There were also accounts that were bad to prove your relationship was fake and being used for publicity. 

You weren’t exactly shocked by this, it happened all the time, but it felt like this relationship was thrown out into the internet more than any of your previous relationships. You had the day off, so you decided to head into the city to go do a spin class and get run some errands before doing things around the house to get ready for the start of promo season. 

You had an assistant that helped with most stuff, but there were a few things you still wanted to do yourself. You had just finished your class and sipped on a green smoothie as you walked around the city. You looked at your phone for a bit before looking back up and when you looked up, you saw something that caught your eye. 

Black posters with the words, “Do you know who you are?” written on them were plastered up on the wall. 

You took a picture with your phone before sending it to Harry with the text, “Excuse me, but what the fuck is this? No heads up for your girlfriend? Rude! ;)” 

You shook your head with a laugh before taking a quick selfie and sending it to him too before heading to your next stop. By the time, Harry replied to you, you were back home, unloading the contents in your bag. Your phone rang as Harry facetime you and you quickly answered it. 

“Do you have something to tell me?” You smirked as soon as you saw his face on the screen. 

“Surprise! My single’s dropping Friday!” He cheered into the camera. 

“Isn’t the whole point of being your girlfriend is knowing these types of things beforehand?” You laughed. 

“So, that’s the only reason, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. “It has nothing to do with my charm, handsome face, talented, gentleman qualities, or the sex?” 

“Yeah, none of that,” you joked. “So, I take it you’ve decided on Lights Up for the single?” 

“I have,” he nodded. “That’s why I was in Mexico filming the video.” 

“The video you still won’t let me see?” you laughed. 

“I’ve got to keep some things a surprise,” he laughed. 

“Well, then I guess I’ll be keeping some things hidden from you too!” You smirked. 

“No fair!” He groaned. 

“It’s extremely fair!” you laughed sticking a chip in your mouth. 

“Anyway, so how’s the meetings been going?” He asked. 

“Great,” you said. “I got my schedule for the rest of the year and there are some dates over in your neck of the woods.” 

“Really?” He smiled. “When?” 

“Well, you’ll just have to wait and find out,” you joked. 

He laughed shaking his head. 

“Are you going to have any promo coming up?” You asked taking the phone out to the backyard. 

“Yeah, Jeff and the team is getting everything finalized,” he said. “There’s some talk with SNL.” 

“Oh, fun,” you smiled. “Musical guest?” 

“Actually, double duty,” he said. 

“No fucking way!” You gasped. 

He smiled, “Yeah, I’m shocked. It’s still in the works and a date hasn’t been set yet, but it most likely will happen.” 

“Okay, I really hope it’ll be when I can be in New York,” you said. “I can’t miss that.” 

“I hope you can be there, too,” he smiled. “But I’ll understand, if you can’t.” 

“So, have you seen all the articles about us?” You asked. “Apparently, we’re the Hottest Couple of the year.” 

“Well, I mean, we kinda are,” he joked. 

You laughed, “I miss you though. I know it’s only been like a week, but it’s weird you not being here. Suddenly this house feels huge.” 

“I miss you, too, baby,” he sighed. “And it’s weird knowing you’re so far away.” 

“At least we’re in the same boat together,” you smiled. 

He nodded, “That we are, that we are.” 

**

It’s a few days later and you were currently at a video shoot in the middle of the night. You were tired, your legs were swore from dancing, and it was starting to get a little chilly. But it was nice being surrounded by people during the late hours instead of being home alone. While you were waiting for your next take, you sipped on hot chocolate, trying to warm yourself up a bit. 

“Why did we agree to this?” Rachel groaned. “I’m freezing my tits off!” 

“It could be -25 degrees out here and your tits would still be well intact,” you laughed. 

“Hey! It’s not my fault my mother gave me these,” she laughed. 

You giggled, “But in all honesty, we were going for the aesthetic this brings.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she mumbled taking a seat next to you. “So, when are you going to give me some details?” 

“Details?” You asked. 

“About you and Harry! We haven’t heard many updates recently,” she said. “How’s everything going?” 

“We’re great,” you smiled. “We’re really happy and enjoying our time together.” 

“I’m glad,” she smiled. “I know I say this every time, but I’m really happy you two met and you were willing to give him a chance.” 

“I am, too,” you smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in a relationship ever or this soon.” 

“Well, it could be that you’ve finally found the one, babe,” she smiled. “It won’t always be easy, but it’ll be worth it.” 

A few hours later, you were finally finished with the filming and able to head home. You were practically dead on your feet and were happy you had previously arranged for a driver to pick you up. When you got to your house, you got out of the car and practically dragged yourself down the driveway. 

You put your keys in the door to unlock it and as soon as you were inside, you shut the door and dropped your things. When you walked further in, you noticed a large bouquet of roses on the kitchen table that weren’t there before. To say you were a little freaked was an understatement, but you were so tired, you didn’t really think anything of it. Maybe those were already there and you just didn’t remember. 

You grabbed some water from the fridge and headed upstairs, ready to undress and slide into bed. Luckily, you were off in the morning and could sleep in before your lunch meeting. When you got up to room, you heard something coming from the bathroom. You stopped in your tracks, trying to figure out what it was or who it was. You held your phone in your hand, ready to call the cops, in case it was someone who broke in. 

There was a shoe nearby, so you grabbed it as you walked over to the door. The door wasn’t shut all the way letting you open it without whoever was in there hearing you. The sound of the sink turning on confirmed that you weren’t just hearing things. You pushed open the door, closing your eyes, and throwing the shoe in the person’s direction before rushing out into the room. 

“Ow! Fucking hell,” you heard them groaned. 

Just as you were typing 911 on your phone, Harry walked out into the bedroom, with only a towel around his waist while holding your shoe in the other hand. 

“Uh, is there a reason you hit me with a shoe?” He laughed rubbing the top of his head. 

“Is there a fucking reason you just showed up at my house in the middle of the night without telling!” you groaned. “How was I supposed to know it was you and not like a robber or something?” 

“Well, if I was, you’re first choice of taking me down was a shoe?” He asked. 

“It was the first thing I grabbed!” you groaned. 

He laughed walking over to you, “I’m sorry, I scared you. I was hoping I’d be done with my shower before you got home. I was going to greet you at the door.” 

You wrapped your arms around him, “Seriously, I can’t believe you’re here right now,” you smiled. “I mean you are really here, right? This isn’t just me being sleep deprived?” 

“I’m really here, baby,” he smiled, kissing your head. 

You smiled looking up at him, “How’s your head?” 

“I’ll survive,” he laughed. “But you on the other hand, look like you’re about to pass out. Let’s get you into bed.” 

“Oh, would you?” you laughed jumping up into his arms. 

He laughed holding you with one arm, “Only if you kiss me first.” 

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” you giggled pressing your lips against his before he carried you over to the bed. 

[antoine-roquentin]

Yesterday I learned that my friend and comrade Noel Ignatiev passed away. He’d been in poor health for some time, diagnosed with a rare form of gastrointestinal cancer that made it difficult for him to swallow properly or digest, but it still caught me off guard. A couple weekends ago I’d seen him at the Hard Crackers release party, which I’d gone to with my friends Kaspar, Arianna, Joseph, and Chelsea. Once a few contributors to the latest issue finished speaking, Noel got up there and gave a rousing summary of what the project is about.

To me, at least, he seemed in good spirits. About a year or so ago, after chatting frequently via social media, Noel asked for my number. We talked now and then over the phone, which I barely do with anyone anymore, where he explained to me his condition. But when I saw him at this event, he came off as lively and even optimistic. The doctors apparently had told him there was a good chance they could operate, since the rest of his body was quite strong. So hearing of his death last night came as a shock to me. What a shame we can’t have him around another decade or two.

Most people know Noel from his book How the Irish Became White, or from the journal Race Traitor that he helped edit back in the nineties and early aughts. Ignatiev was a pupil of Theodore Allen, whose epic treatise on The Invention of the White Race was a landmark in the field. Though deeply indebted to Allen, which he was always the first to acknowledge, he eventually broke with his former master. Against the emerging academic field of “whiteness studies,” Ignatiev fulminated that the point was not to study whiteness but abolish it.

Unfortunately, some of the concepts he helped to popularize took on a life of their own after working their way into liberal online discourse. None has been so abused as the notion of “white skin privilege,” which Ignatiev et al. never meant to function as some sort of individualized guilt complex. During an interview with Orchestrated Pulse, he told Vincent Kelley:

John Garvey and I began Race Traitor with the goal of breaking up the white race, as a contribution to working-class solidarity. We never used, endorsed or promoted identity politics; we railed against multiculturalism and “diversity”; we were scornful of those who wanted to preserve the “good aspects” of “white culture” or to “re-articulate” or “decenter” whiteness. We wanted nothing to do with the growing academic field of “whiteness studies.” We did share some vocabulary with individuals and organizations that were traveling on different roads to different places.

The most significant instance of this was the word “privilege.” In light of the political travesties that have developed under the term since, we wish we had differentiated ourselves more categorically from those who wanted to make careers in journalism, social work, organizational development, education and the arts, and who insist that the psychic battle against privilege must be never-ending; instead of challenging institutions they scrutinize every inter-personal encounter between black people and whites to unearth underlying “racist” attitudes and guide people in “unlearning” them. Hectoring people about their privileges was never our approach; it is an annoyance rather than a challenge.

Indeed, though he deftly avoided the question Kelley posed to him about the work of Adolph Reed, Noel told an online discussion group that he’d corresponded with Reed back in the mid-aughts. Reed eventually stopped responding to his repeated queries, so the dialogue sadly came to naught. Though he sympathized with Reed’s critique of identity politics, he feared (quite rightly) that all Reed was offering was warmed-over social-democratic trade unionism. Ignatiev identified far more with the left communist positions of Loren Goldner, who also contributed to Race Traitor.

Others adopted positions on race vaguely similar to Ignatiev’s, but he did not hesitate to criticize or distance himself from their work when they diverged. For example, he wrote a very harsh criticism of fellow STO veteran J. Sakai for his book Settlers: Mythology of the White Proletariat, which I reposted on my blog (this set off a fresh storm of controversy). More of his notes on Sakai can be accessed here. Ignatiev certainly appreciated the early work of David Roediger on The Wages of Whiteness, and wrote a favorable review of that book in 1992, but was less impressed by Roediger’s recent stuff on intersectionality.

He and I didn’t agree on everything, to be sure. Several months ago there was a thread in which he invoked Shlomo Sand’s book The Invention of the Jewish People, a text I generally find tendentious and specifically reject for the weight it accords to the so-called “Khazar hypothesis.” I let him know how I felt, and we argued a bit back and forth. Noel took it all in stride, though he felt others had been disrespectful in their tone towards him. That was the great thing about Noel, though: you could argue with him for hours, but he never held it against you as long as it was honest and never got personal.

When he addressed the small but packed backroom at Freddy’s Bar in Brooklyn two weekends ago, the gist of his remarks was that Marx ruthlessly criticized ideology, but he never wrote of its adherents as stupid or simply deluded. Rather, he spent countless pages investigating the material reasons that people believe the things they do, why they routinely act against their own objective interest. Usually, there is a very real logic at work in their misapprehension of reality; Frankfurt School theorists thus refer to ideology as a “socially necessary illusion.”

Outside, afterwards, I brought up the fascist myth of “the great replacement” — the paranoid nativist fantasy that foreigners and nonwhites are going to steal their jobs and women. As Noel indicated in his remarks, this is of course an ideological and irrational belief. However, it is rooted in a reality that fascists are all too willing to seize upon for their own advantage: under capitalism, the sad fact of the matter is that we are all radically replaceable. Liberals would prefer to deny this reality outright, but communists must recognize the truth that fascists twist into falsehood.

Noel couldn’t stick around too long after the event, as he had to drive back to Connecticut, so it was a short conversation. Just two weeks later, he’d be gone. Was still doing it till the end, though. RIP, comrade. Hard Crackers will endure as a testament to your memory.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

STARTUP IN FOUNDERS TO MAKE WEALTH

Would it be useful to have an explicit belief in change. And I think that's ok. Mihalko seemed like he actually wanted to be our friend. Grad school is the other end of the humanities. Indirectly, but they pay attention.1 US, its effects lasted longer. Together you talk about some hard problem, probably getting nowhere.

Informal language is the athletic clothing of ideas. Why? They got to have expense account lunches at the best restaurants and fly around on the company's Gulfstreams. Meaning everyone within this world was low-res: a Duplo world of a few big hits, and those aren't them. It's not true that those who teach can't do. Or is it?2 I think much of the company.

Part of the reason is prestige. If you define a language that was ideal for writing a slow version 1, and yet with the right optimization advice to the compiler, would also yield very fast code when necessary.3 Of course, prestige isn't the main reason the idea is much older than Henry Ford. The right way to get it. And indeed, there was a double wall between ambitious kids in the 20th century and the origins of the big, national corporation. The reason car companies operate this way is that it was already mostly designed in 1958. Wars make central governments more powerful, and over the next forty years gradually got more powerful, they'll be out of business. And this too tended to produce both social and economic cohesion. The first microcomputers were dismissed as toys.4 This won't be a very powerful feature. Lisp paper.5 Plus if you didn't put the company first you wouldn't be promoted, and if you couldn't switch ladders, promotion on this one was the only way up.

But if they don't want to shut down the company, that leaves increasing revenues and decreasing expenses firing people.6 One is that investors will increasingly be unable to offer investment subject to contingencies like other people investing. I understood their work. Which in turn means the variation in the amount of wealth people can create has not only been increasing, but accelerating.7 Surely that sort of thing did not happen to big companies in mid-century most of the 20th century and the origins of the big national corporations were willing to pay a premium for labor.8 As long as he considers all languages equivalent, all he has to do is remove the marble that isn't part of it. I had a few other teachers who were smart, but I never have. And it turns out that was all you needed to solve the problem. You have certain mental gestures you've learned in your work, and when you're not paying attention, you keep making these same gestures, but somewhat randomly.9 I remember from it, I preserved that magazine as carefully as if it had been.10 That no doubt causes a lot of institutionalized delays in startup funding: the multi-week mating dance with investors; the distinction between acceptable and maximal efficiency, programmers in a hundred years, maybe it won't in a thousand. Certainly it was for a startup's founders to retain board control after a series A, that will change the way things have always been.

Which inevitably, if unions had been doing their job tended to be lower. They did as employers too. I worry about the power Apple could have with this force behind them. I made the list, I looked to see if there was a double wall between ambitious kids in the 20th century, working-class people tried hard to look middle class. In a way mid-century oligopolies had been anointed by the federal government, which had been a time of consolidation, led especially by J. Wars make central governments more powerful, until now the most advanced technologies, and the number of undergrads who believe they have to say yes or no, and then join some other prestigious institution and work one's way up the hierarchy. Locally, all the news was bad. Close, but they are still missing a few things. Not entirely bad though. I notice this every time I fly over the Valley: somehow you can sense prosperity in how well kept a place looks. Another way to burn up cycles is to have many layers of software between the application and the hardware. And indeed, the most obvious breakage in the average computer user's life is Windows itself.

Investors don't need weeks to make up their minds anyway. The point of high-level languages is to give you bigger abstractions—bigger bricks, as it were, so I emailed the ycfounders list. They traversed idea space as gingerly as a very old person traverses the physical world. And there is another, newer language, called Python, whose users tend to look down on Perl, and more openly. At the time it seemed the future. What happens in that shower? You can't reproduce mid-century model was already starting to get old.11 Meanwhile a similar fragmentation was happening at the other end of the economic scale.12 But the advantage is that it works better.

Most really good startup ideas look like bad ideas at first, and many of those look bad specifically because some change in the world just switched them from bad to good.13 There's good waste, and bad waste. A rounds. A bottom-up program should be easier to modify as well, partly because it tends to create deadlock, and partly because it seems kind of slimy. But when you import this criterion into decisions about technology, you start to get the company rolling. It would have been unbearable. Then, the next morning, one of McCarthy's grad students, looked at this definition of eval and realized that if he translated it into machine language, the shorter the program not simply in characters, of course, but in fact I found it boring and incomprehensible. I wouldn't want Python advocates to say I was misrepresenting the language, but what they got was fixed according to their rank. The deal terms of angel rounds will become less restrictive too—not just less restrictive than angel terms have traditionally been. If it is, it will be a minority squared.

If 98% of the time, just like they do to startups everywhere. Their culture is the opposite of hacker culture; on questions of software they will tend to pay less, because part of the core language, prior to any additional notations about implementation, be defined this way. That's what a metaphor is: a function applied to an argument of the wrong type.14 Now we'd give a different answer.15 And you know more are out there, separated from us by what will later seem a surprisingly thin wall of laziness and stupidity. There have probably been other people who did this as well as Newton, for their time, but Newton is my model of this kind of thought. I'd be very curious to see it, but Rabin was spectacularly explicit. Betting on people over ideas saved me countless times as an investor.16 They assume ideas are like miracles: they either pop into your head or they don't. I was pretty much assembly language with math. Whereas if you ask for it explicitly, but ordinarily not used. A couple days ago an interviewer asked me if founders having more power would be better or worse for the world.

Notes

The reason we quote statistics about fundraising is so hard to prevent shoplifting because in their early twenties. Auto-retrieving filters will have a definite commitment.

It will seem like noise.

It's one of the world. That's why the Apple I used to end investor meetings too closely, you'll find that with a neologism. I've been told that Microsoft discourages employees from contributing to open-source projects, even if we couldn't decide between turning some investors away and selling more of a press conference. All you need but a lot about some disease they'll see once in China, many of the biggest divergences between the government.

Mozilla is open-source projects, even if they pay a lot of time. If they agreed among themselves never to do that. And journalists as part of grasping evolution was to reboot them, initially, to sell your company into one? Most expect founders to overhire is not so much better is a net win to include in your own time, not just the local area, and Reddit is Delicious/popular with voting instead of just doing things, they were shooting themselves in the field they describe.

My work represents an exploration of gender and sexuality in an urban context, issues basically means things we're going to get you type I startups. As a friend who invested earlier had been with us if the current options suck enough. MITE Corp.

The top VCs and Micro-VCs. When you had to for some reason, rather than admitting he preferred to call all our lies lies. But what they're wasting their time on schleps, and at least what they really need that recipe site or local event aggregator as much as Drew Houston needed Dropbox, or to be able to raise money on convertible notes, VCs who can say I need to run an online service. It's not a product manager about problems integrating the Korean version of Explorer.

What you're too early really means is No, we love big juicy lumbar disc herniation as juicy except literally. In either case the implications are similar. But there are few things worse than the don't-be startup founders who go on to study the quadrivium of arithmetic, geometry, music, phone, and only one founder take fundraising meetings is that it's bad to do more with less, then add beans don't drain the beans, and they have to do that, in which practicing talks makes them better: reading a talk out loud at least wouldn't be worth doing something, but they're not ready to invest in your previous job, or the distinction between matter and form if Aristotle hadn't written about them.

Philadelphia is a net loss of productivity. As a rule, if the growth is genuine. Which implies a surprising but apparently unimportant, like a core going critical.

In practice the first year or so. If you weren't around then it's hard to think about so-called lifestyle business, having sold all my shares earlier this year. Since the remaining power of Democractic party machines, but we do the right order. They're an administrative convenience.

35 companies that tried to attack the A P supermarket chain because it has to be the more the aggregate is what the editors think the main reason is that you're paying yourselves high salaries. What is Mathematics? Once again, that good paintings must have affected what they claim was the fall of 2008 but no doubt partly because companies don't. Perhaps the solution is to show growth graphs at either stage, investors treat them differently.

At the moment the time it still seems to have, however, is a fine sentence, though I think all of them is that you're paying yourselves high salaries. We thought software was all that matters to us. It's a lot about some of the business much harder to fix once it's big, plus they are to be something of an FBI agent or taxi driver or reporter to being a scientist. Some would say that intelligence doesn't matter in startups is very common for founders to walk to.

In fact, we try to be a special recipient of favour, being a scientist.

It is the most successful investment, Uber, from which Renaissance civilization radiated.

When an investor they already know; but as a percentage of GDP were about the team or their determination and disarmingly asking the right sort of things economists usually think about so-called lifestyle business, A. Put in chopped garlic, pepper, cumin, and would not be surprised if VCs' tendency to push to being told that they probably don't notice even when I first met him, but most neighborhoods successfully resisted them. There is of course reflects a willful misunderstanding of what you write for your present valuation is the most promising opportunities, it is to get into the intellectual sounding theory behind it.

Innosight, February 2012. Ashgate, 1998. So it is less than a Web terminal.

This is why we can't figure out the same ones. Trevor Blackwell, who had been able to. We didn't let him off, either as an example of applied empathy. And yet if he were a variety called Red Delicious that had other meanings.

[mrsslrss]

2019.

Welcome to my annual accounting of things I loved, 2019 edition. 

I’m realizing the pattern here is to start this with a reflection of how I rang in the year but 2019 crept in pretty calmly: no big bugs to kill, no spontaneous sobs to a Sharon Van Etten song. On the first day of this year, I woke up and cleaned the house and, I don’t know, probably went to Big Bear and got a coffee and took a nap. Since it’s nearly the end of the decade, I could start there, but I couldn’t tell you where I was for New Year’s Eve, 2009; if I had to guess, I’d put myself at a friend’s house on the North Shore, drinking PBR with the guys and listening to pop-punk. That winter I was convinced I wouldn’t return to Poughkeepsie, I was so miserable, but when I did things started to fall into place.

I think my goal for this year was roughly something like, Just put your head down and do the work. When you are tempted to get fed up and wither from frustration or have a big ego about not getting what you want, just put your head down and do the work. I don’t know if I did that, exactly, if I really stuck to the goal, but every so often in a particularly challenging moment the goal would come into focus at the front of my mind and I’d sigh and acquiesce and nod at the work ahead of me. I got a lot done, I think; in this way I got a lot done. It was nice to be reminded about how the process can be the goal -- something I thought about a lot this year. Sometimes the goal looks like a result, but it’s really the habit I’m after.

I’d like to keep that up next year. 2019 was a year of cultivating; 2020, maybe, will be a year of action. Or maybe not! Maybe nothing flowers until 2021 or beyond. Or maybe I start tearing things up by the roots in 2020, who knows! 

So anyway. Here’s to 2019, and here’s a list (more or less alphabetized -- why not!) of ten things that helped me make it through.

annie’s homegrown birthday cake bunny grahams

My official snack of the year. Over the summer I was visiting MZ in Brooklyn and we got snacks at their neighborhood grocery store and I bought these, which are meant to celebrate the 30th anniversary of this snack company, taste like funfetti cake, and are definitely meant for/marketed to children. But anyway I ate the whole box and then sought them out at every Whole Foods in my vicinity (because I went online and WH is apparently basically the only place you can find them?) and started preaching the good word to anyone who was looking for a snack. By, like, September I had eaten so many of these that I could no longer stomach them, so I’ve been on a brief hiatus, but still: snack of the year.

keeping lists

I started this year with a big digital spreadsheet called “2019 things” where I intended to keep lists: all the new albums and songs that struck me, all the old albums and songs I got obsessed with, the places I wanted to travel in the year. I kept adding tabs: the books I finished, my financial priorities, stuff I wanted to make sure to read or watch. I was pretty diligent about updating them -- I wrote down every book I read, but definitely forgot to add a couple albums; I never made it to Philly this year. I started keeping gratitude lists (analog) towards the end of year, too, because in college a friend told me it helps rewire the brain away from pessimism, or something. 

meditation

Before this year, I’ve never had a serious relationship with meditation, but it always seemed like the kind of thing I would like. In mid-January I got struck by the urge to try it, so I did, and kept it up for a few days, and then I fell off, and then I got back on, and now, somehow, it’s been three-hundred-something days of it in a row. I have learned to find a quiet moment in a nice corner of my room before work, but also in a tent in the Catskills, in a guest room in Wales, in a hotel in Georgia, on a walk through Brooklyn, in my childhood bedroom. My life and brain don’t feel, like, enormously different or changed, but that’s good; it feels useful to keep showing up to something without expectation.

my siblings

Having a big family means every year is inevitably a big year for someone, but this was, somehow, a big year for all of my siblings. Mostly good things: health and healing, a wedding and a graduation, a license acquired and a course of study started and jobs well done. It doesn’t feel good to get into the hard stuff here, but there was a lot of that, too -- a lot of grueling bullshit overcome. After the wedding I almost texted everyone just to say how proud I was of all of them, but naturally I chickened out. But I really am proud!

navy blue

Longtime readers of, uh, *gestures wildly* whatever this is may recall that last year I claimed I only wore black but might be interested in navy blue? This year I determined that navy blue is so good: the color of the deep ocean, the night sky, my first Catholic school uniform. I bought navy jumpsuits, a sweatshirt, a scrunchie. I wore navy-adjacent eyeliner just in the corners of my eyes most days of July and August and September. I’m wearing a navy blue sweater right now. A good year for navy. 

“not” by big thief

My song of the year, which I knew from the first time I heard it. So much of this year (the news, the planet, global catastrophes, mass violence, etc. not to mention personal failures) felt hopeless and dreadful, but also so constant and exhausting that I wasn’t sure I could keep summoning anger, never mind do it in a useful way. I love this song because it is about abjection in the same way it isn’t about anything, about absence as presence, about not-knowing as knowing. It is desperate without being hopeless, explosive without being violent, or maybe: violent without being harmful. It’s about transcending language and different kinds of language and using whichever tools you have (Words are good enough). It’s about being swallowed whole by the everything-ness, a theme that came up in so much of the work I loved this year, the subject of an essay I’ll never write (lol). Music Twitter™ got into an argument about whether this band is good; I feel so sure of my love for this song (and most of what this band does) that I, for once, didn’t immediately assume I was a fool, or being had, just because someone disagrees with me. Instead it felt delicious and special to resonate with a thing that doesn’t resonate for everyone, a rare and generous experience for me. Imagine that.

pottery

At the beginning of the year I signed up for a ten-week session of pottery classes at a studio in Georgetown, and then when I told M, he wanted to join (by which I felt incredibly endeared). Then it became ten more weeks, then ten more, and since then we’ve gone nearly every Thursday night. Some things that are nice: learning to to make something with my hands, especially after staring at a screen all day; not being able to look at my phone or read the news for several hours (related: so many of the Democratic debates happened on Thursday nights!); having a standing weekly date with my favorite person. Nearly everyone in our lives got lumpy bowls, vases, etc. for Christmas this year, of which we are very proud.

“rooms on fire” by stevie nicks

This year, Stevie Nicks became the first woman be inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame twice and so Rolling Stone interviewed her about her fabulous career. In the interview, Rob Sheffield said his favorite song of hers is “Ooh My Love” from The Other Side of the Mirror, which is an album I had never listened to before, so I started listening and the first song just hooked me. It’s so dramatic and magical and moody! It’s right up there on the Apple Music-generated playlist of my most-played songs of the year.

stockholm

For several years one of my repeated resolutions was “go to Scandinavia.” Sweden has always been the big goal, but Oslo seemed possible for a minute, and in 2013 I did briefly entertain the idea of going to graduate school in Finland. (Imagine!) This year I got really fed up of having not really, you know, taken a proper vacation since starting my job, so I took a full week off after my sister’s wedding and planned a solo trip to Stockholm. Each day of my trip I woke up whenever I woke up and I explored a different island; I went for long runs, drank coffee, ate kardemummabullar, took the subway across town, saw a one-of-a-kind Viking ship. I burst into tears at the Moderna Museet, ate through a vegetarian tasting menu at the Fotografiska, had an extremely lovely spa experience. I read three books in a week. I loved every second of it.

wigs

I bought a big gaudy pink wig this spring in anticipation of seeing Sasha Velour’s one-woman show in New York -- or, I told myself I bought it for that reason, but I think I really just wanted the possibility of wearing a big gaudy pink wig at will. After the Sasha show, I wore it to see Robyn at The Anthem, and was delighted when, after I put a picture on Instagram, a handful of people in my life thought I had a) dyed my hair pastel pink and b) grew my hair ~half a foot over the weekend. (I wish!) I think I’ll wear it for our house’s beach-themed NYE party, too.

everything else 

frequent, long drives with M; songs about solidarity; the #saltypod; custom t-shirts; craving waffles; having an e-reader; the concept of “the archive”; choosing kindness; threatening to move to rural new england to work on a farm; being in love

[its8simplejulesblog]

Did I Ever Tell You About The Time I Got Stranded in An Airport In China?

It’s true. I was utterly alone. I mean in retrospect I wasn’t, there were hundreds of people in that airport. The difference, they spoke native Chinese and I didn’t. My family members have always been avid travelers, to the point where my mom let me, 20 at the time, travel to China alone. Of course, I was meeting up with people when I got there, but the travel part was alllllllll me. So naturally, things had to go wrong. 

So here’s the sitch. Before my brother was born, during the dark ages of minimal internet, my mom joined this online group of moms that were expecting around the same time so they could ask questions and go through the experience of being pregnant for the first time together. My mom really clicked with a woman named Sandie in the group who happened to be from Australia. As we grew up, our families became really close. We would meet up with them in Florida all the time. 

Eventually, we decided we would ship ourselves over to Australia for Christmas/ New Years, but that’s a different story. 

More background information: My dad helped start a robotics team 21 years ago, and has become really well known in that community so he’s friends with everyone. We were contacted while we were in Australia to come meet up with another family who is really involved in robotics internationally so we went to have dinner with their family. They are an INCREDIBLE family. You know the type where they always have a ridiculous story for everything you just can’t believe it’s real? That’s what they were like. Anyway, the mom started talking about how they were opening a robotics lab in China and they take students over to teach the kids about programming and lego league and just to be pen pals; and, if you know my family at all, I immediately invited myself to go. I really was like “oh I should go with you,” out loud, and my mom looked at me and instead of saying no, she looked at this lady and she said “yeah, Julia is learning Chinese, she could go with you.” and the lady just said “yeah! ok” and I was going to China...alone haha. 

Flash forward and I have to take two flights to go to China. The International flight goes sickeningly smooth. I have absolutely 0 issues, and my whole family is extremely relieved, BuT WaIT, there’s more. When I go to take the domestic flight to Fuzhou, the province that we were going to be “touring” I see that the flight is canceled. There’s an announcement over the loud speaker but I’m already panicked and it’s in rapid fire Chinese so I go to the desk instead. The lady at the desk is trying to be patient with me, but I’m clearly already freaking out and her English is broken. She manages to tell me that there was a bad wind storm so they had to postpone a lot of the flights. 

Okay, postpone..that isn’t so bad, right? ALSO WRONG, it’s at this exact moment that my phone’s wifi cuts out entirely, so it’s survival mode now. I’m crying on the floor of the Shanghai airport when I hear actual English for the first time in forever (I’m apparently really good at accidental Frozen references) but I FLY towards whoever is speaking English. The culprit turns out to be these 2 guys from Canada. One of them speaks fluent Chinese and they’re helpful for about 5 minutes before they have to abandon me because their flight was rescheduled. So, we’re back to square one. 

At this point, they announce that the flight is cancelled and I want to die, but the good news is my wifi comes back on. I immediately text my mom and my uncle, who my aunt met when she was in the Peace Corps in China so he starts a call with his entire family that lives in China apparently because I don’t recognize any of these people at all. The only thing they can tell me to do is to talk to a flight attendant so that’s what I do. 

Imagine a group of really cute and young sorority girls hanging out when they’re approached by someone that..is just completely a mess. Yeah that’s what it was like when I went over to them. I got one of the girls to help me and again, her English was about the level of my Chinese at the time, so together we were only slightly above idiot. She tells me that the Chinese airport doesn’t let foreigners stay at the onsite hotel, so I would be able to go with her and her friend once she got off of her shift to go to a hotel. 

SOUNDS SUS doesn’t it, but when you’re desperate, you’re desperate. When the flight attendant gets off of her shift I go with her to the parking garage because she booked a hotel for me. When we finally get there, this 25 year old Chinese Troy Bolton looking man whips his car around and we get in with him (completely safe, how could you not trust Chinese Troy Bolton). We drive about 30 minutes through Shanghai and honestly, it’s beautiful. It was one of those circumstances in life we’re you’re looking at the city lit up at night and you really can’t believe you’re there. It was probably one of the scariest, yet most memorable experiences of my life. 

We pull into the hotel and since I finally had native speakers with me, things were going a lot smoother. The flight attendant was talking with my uncle on the phone about scheduling me a flight for the next day and she talked to the lady in the lobby about my room. At this point, I knew her pretty well because, surprise, she was actually 30 years old and had a daughter and I thought that was SO CUTE. I gave the flight attendant a hug and thanked her friend, and it was just me again. 

Here’s the best part of this entire story. The only hotel they could book me in was, wait for it, a honeymoon suite. A HONEYMOON SUITE. The hallways of the hotel were covered in mirrors and the carpets were covered in flowers. Everything smelled like drugs and smoke and clearly everyone was having the time of their lives. The bathroom in the room, completely see through, the bed had a HUGE mural of Barbie’s face above it and the curtains had minnie mouse on them and I don’t know how that’s romantic at all, but you can’t make this shit up haha. If you think I’m lying, here’s a lil (horrible) photo I took of the curtains. If you want to see video, ask me in person. 

At this point, I am way past delirious. I took a shower and time ceased to exist. I was so jet lagged and confused. I called my mom and after I hung up with her I immediately fell asleep. A solid 2 hours later I woke up and SCREAMED because my body clock was so off, I thought it was the next day and I had missed my next flight. I called my mom crying again, and she told me it had only been two hours so I went back to bed. When I finally woke up at the right time my uncle, god bless this man, got on the phone with me and helped me talk to the people at the desk. They got a cab for me and I trudged back to the airport. 

2nd times the charm, except, I need to get my boarding pass printed out at the help desk, which has a line of about the entirety of the Chinese population. Fun fact about China too, they don’t know what a straight line is. This is just fact, they just cut straight to the front and shove each other out of the way. This took me way too long to realize, and after I stood in this line for about 2 hours, I realized that I was going to have to assimilate. So there I was, a puny stick of a human, elbowing grown Chinese men out of my way to get this pass while my uncle and 300 relatives are on the call with me. 

I get to the the desk and surprise, the person is not helpful at all so I do what any actually insane person would do and I just continued walking my way through security to the gates. I get filtered into bag check of which, I don’t even have a bag so I just walk up to the desk anyway to see if anyone else can help me. 

After the longest 5 minutes of my life my SAVIOR of a 22 year old tiny little man decides to give me his attention. I don’t know HOW. I don’t. Know. How. But he manages to print a boarding pass for me and my soul left my body because at this point I had 30 minutes to get to my flight so I thank him and SPRINT and I mean really book it through security to the plane. I finally made it. 

Granted, the trip was entirely worth that stress. The kids I met in China were incredibly kind. They called me a Disney Princess and wrote me love letters and gave me hugs even though it was clear I didn’t know shit about coding. It was just amazing to be there as a friend and role model for them. I stood in front of them and spoke Chinese and encouraged them to keep learning English and it was the most grounding experience of my life, because it was clear that they didn’t have much. 

We went to five cities while we were there to tell the kids about lego league and cooperation and teamwork. I sat in on meetings with school board professionals and on interviews with students that wished to continue their education abroad in America. I learned so much about the systematic education there and there is nothing I want more than to go back there. The kids have already invited me back to their homes, and I have never met anyone more welcoming and kind. So think twice before you make jokes about the Corona Virus. 

At the end of the day, this trip defines what I want to do. There is nothing like stepping entirely out of your comfort zone to explore. There is nothing like shocking a bunch of Chinese men with your ability to use chopsticks. There is nothing like putting aside biases and language barriers and simply treating people like people. Everywhere I go, I think of that place as a new home to me, and I can’t wait to be home there again.

Also..the next semester when I got back, we learned the airport and travel unit at school in Chinese class, such is life I guess. 

Here are some pictures from China. 

-Julia 

[americanroyalwatcher]

Why we love Kate, not Meghan

I’ve been seeing the “If you love her (Catherine) you don’t need to hate her (Meghan)” meme going around on IG. I had to clear things up for myself and anybody this resonates once and for all. Let me first start off by saying my feelings for Meghan Markle are not of hate. I find her and Catherine beautiful in their own respective ways. I only abhor Meghan’s behavior, actions, total disrespect for the Royal Family hierarchy, trying to curry favor with the public through her PR attempts, and blatant sense of entitlement.

We are only typing words online making it difficult to decipher a tone of voice. Since there is none to be heard or facial expressions detected, you can take it much more worse, dramatic, and catty than it really is. I try to write as clearly as I can to convey my meanings as fast I can churn it out for everyone to read. I do it so my opinions are not misunderstood to be of jealousy, hating, bullying, or racism. I feel I have to restate this as I’ve gained many new followers and likely new spies or just plain curious folks. It would be truly wonderful to meet everyone I interact with online, follower, spy, or passersby. That human interaction is missing from this very anti-social media platform.

So, let me say I am none of those four things above. In fact, I was quite enthusiastic initially with Meghan Markle’s debut into the royal scene. She of course is a far cry from the typical posh British blondes Harry dated. It was refreshing and new. She was a Californian, ethnic, and American just like me, who came from a disjointed family. She was a breath of fresh air as a new addition, but that quickly turned into mush when that engagement interview revealed her domineering, controlling, and insincere personality with the camera. I took her saying she didn’t know THAT MUCH about Price Harry, not that she didn’t know him or the royal family. This is often restated incorrectly. Her statement during the interview came off as if Prince Harry’s royal-ness wasn’t a big deal to her. That they’re equally on the same plane and their names hold the same weight as far as that statement went. That initial interview showed her ego on display and the Vanity Fair magazine she interviewed for as a tell all after it was revealed she was Harry’s girlfriend. Shortly before that, in November 2016, she had Harry write a foolish statement asking the public to leave her alone after she made a false report of someone breaking into her Toronto home. Then she goes on to do that Vanity Fair magazine. The hypocrisy. Harry could never turn back after that. It was more binding than a wedding if you ask me.

Even her ex-best friend Ninaka Priddy told DailyMail, “I know the Royal Family was something she found fascinating. She had one of Princess Diana’s books [Diana: Her True Story] on her bookshelf, and even when she was with Trevor she told me she wanted to go and stay in London for at least a month. I can’t remember exactly when this was, but she was married to Trevor and starring in Suits. She mentioned about wanting to go to London a couple of times. I wasn’t shocked or even surprised to hear about Prince Harry. I know she used to love The Princess Diaries — films about a commoner who becomes part of a Royal Family. She was very taken with that idea.”

Meghan would relish the thought of living a real life Princess Diaries scenario. Everyone in her family circle knew she was infatuated with the idea of being a modern day princess with power. She admired Princess She-Ra. In her defunct Tig blog she wrote, “I, for one, was all about She-Ra, Princess of Power. And grown women seem to retain this childhood fantasy. Just look at the pomp and circumstance surrounding the royal wedding and endless conversation about Princess Kate.”

That was a huge red flag to me. Her best friend knew her since she was 11 and they were inseparable like sisters, like family. So, I take her words seriously as to who Meghan really was. She stopped talking to her after three seasons of Suits. Fame got to her head. She left her then husband Trevor, who helped her get on the show. She was out for a more “empowering” position in life. She used who and what she could to get where she is today. She downplayed her knowledge and awareness of the royal family big time and it really came back to bite her.

Meghan had her sights set on expanding her name and fame somehow someway since Suits was wrapping up with her supporting role being axed soon. Unhappily, her marriage to Trevor Engelson ended abruptly by her (mailing her rings back my mail), after almost 10 years of supposed true happiness finding The One. According to her ex-best friend she knew since she was 11 years old. She left him for Corey Vitiello, a highly celebrated chef in Toronto after her career took off some with Suits. Corey was also cooking for Prince Harry when Meghan first met the royal. He runs a chicken restaurant chain called Flock. Roast chicken, anyone? Yes, Meghan has commented time and time again her specialty is roast chicken. She picked up this talent likely from living in common law marriage with Corey in Toronto. That’s also what she was cooking when Prince Harry proposed? Gosh, what a coincidence. The Sun said, “The pair split in May 2016 - with the Telegraph reporting that Meghan was still with Cory when she first met Harry. The prince was in Canada to promote the Invictus games in May 2016. The chef refused to comment on the rumours that the Prince was part of the reason their relationship ended.” Hmmm, also a suspicious coincidence.

I don’t knock her for watching out for herself and trying to put her name out there. It’s a dog-eat-dog world in the acting industry. She was only successful in Toronto with Suits. Hollywood was the ultimate goal and dream. Her father Thomas Markle was a successful Emmy winning lighting director for Married with Children. She basically grew up on set and likely salivated at the fame and attention she would get being one. As a narcissist, this would feed her ego majorly. She was never going to be more famous than an extra in those random comedies or low-budget made for TV movies. She was pushing nearly 40. That’s the career death age of actresses in North America, maybe everywhere. She wasn’t a Meryl Streep or Viola Davis. She had to think fast. She did. Man, did she hit the jackpot with Harry. Apparently, their relationship wasn’t even revealed to Harry’s family until 6 months into it. All that time, Thomas Markle kept his mouth shut about it. He was loyal to his favorite daughter and paid for her expensive upscale schooling her entire life, even some in college. She ghosted him for making a foolish mistake with the media when he didn’t recieve an invite to the wedding. This time period was key to her sinking her claws in to Prince Harry’s vulnerability, weaknesses, broken and damaged self. She does want to be another Diana, but all she is now is a mother-wife to Harry. As her ghosted former best friend said, she is very calculated.

Using others as a stepping stone or tool to get where you want is extremely cold-hearted, but that was her MO. There is a reason a trail of ghosted, dejected lovers, family and friends have come out of the woodwork since Harry said his family was the one she never had. HAH. Cry me a river. Samantha only came out when that was openly said. What a stupid, hurtful, foolish statement Harry. This was during the Christmas Service at Sandringham she attended when they were only engaged. That’s unheard of. Even Catherine Middleton, wife of the heir didn’t even get invited to any outings until they were officially married. I commend Prince William for his caution as he had much more to lose than Harry with his choice of a wife.

Prince William was extremely worried about the tabloids and press doing what they did to his beloved mother to Kate. They chased Kate around and staked out their cameras at her flat. They followed her to work. They shoved cameras in her face getting in and out of cars. She was very chill about it. Alarmed, but civil. It was chaos. She was a BIG DEAL. She was marrying the heir to the British monarchy. Prince William was a dreamboat. Many of us were very fascinated by who his choice was. When they married, there were years and years of ridicule with comments about her “Waity Katey” nickname. He made sure she has as much time living a normal private life before becoming a royal. She needed to withstand the public scrutiny as his on and off again girlfriend first. It wasn’t a matter of him getting coldfeet. He was protecting her. They were college friends first then fell in love over the course of 6 years or so. They had a solid foundation.

She even had a few incidents where her skirt flew up too high revealing too much as well as her chest. It’s all trivial superficial things, I know, but it matters as a royal. We do the same with Meghan. It’s the optics that need to be taken into consideration. I’m fine with critiquing dress style, as there’s a certain decorum needed in a royal family. She, Kate, needed to dress more prudently to avoid mishaps. There were several in her first few years. She has improved beautifully and has her style down to science. Kate had many of the criticisms Meghan shares as far as entering in the royal family goes being a commoner having to do with dress code and keeping her mannerisms appropriate at events. There are many comments on old articles saying how Kate was smiling way too much at this same event years ago. How her hair was too long. She needed to stop twirling it and have some respect for her role and the dignity of the event. It was the Remembrance Day Sunday event at Whitehall in 2013. The two years before that, she garnered the same scathing reactions from the public.

Kate has really come into her own despite the awful criticisms and judgement on her class. She has bore the years and years of cruel digs to her with great decorum and stride. She has NEVER COMPLAINED. She has come in to her own identity as a mother, wife, future queen consort, charity patron, and most importantly a genuine person with the public. I quote The Sun highlighting past labels calling her a "work-shy social climber, the lucky girl whose sole job in life was to sit around looking pretty until William proposed." That's all turned into something solid and magical.

She has an ease with others that makes them comfortable in her presence you don't expect from such a senior royal. She has bloomed. We love her for that and how she lets Prince William shine by supporting his role as heir through their duties and appearances together. She also shines equally if not more than Prince William. Her children are absolutely gorgeous and a delight. We have all come to adore her because she has earned it. Yes, with the public you have to earn our love.

With Meghan, it seemed as if they were marrying then having a baby at warp speed before Harry decided to change his mind without knowing her family and past. They weren’t allowing the public to let us see Meghan in a positive gradual light, but a social climbing one with all her past history written online for all to see; also through the testimony of friends, families, her attention-seeking Instagram posts, colleagues etc. She hadn’t proved herself worthy yet to the public like Kate. It was hitting the ground running to be her own brand and name through Harry’s family.

On a superficial level, Kate and Meghan are not fashionistas or supermodels. But they are always photographed with what brands they’re wearing for all to see. That’s the fun part of watching all royal women, their outfits and accessories. But with Meghan it goes PAST and BEYOND outfits and style. It’s an entire plethora of reasons. She’s a whole different “beast” as she likened her unfair treatment in that Africa interview. All that have nothing to do with her ethnicity. The criticisms we non-Markle fans share with her are as followed:

• ghosting those friends and family members she used to put a notch on her belt

• using Princess Diana’s name to beautify her tainted image

• using Harry and his weaknesses to crawl her way into the royal family

• portraying such an affected manner in which she speaks, interactions with others, and overall pretending to be royal instead of being herself

• wearing inappropriate revealing attire to events, not adhering to dress code

• being rude and demanding to royal staff and even film and restaurant workers before marrying Harry

• constantly stepping in front of Harry as if he was the non-royal at events, inserting herself in conversations and trying to be the center of attention, a know-it-all

• making herself out to be a self made millionaire when she was more like a thousand-aire after Suits owning no real estate, cars or possessions to note beside an expensive heel collection

• taking credit for things that she did not do entirely on her own but passing it off that she did

• upsetting Duchess of Cambridge who she should have allied with for assimilation

• planting her PR stories to try and break up the image and marriage that the Cambridges have naturally built

• constantly trying to one-up the Cambridges while they go about their duties, her seething envy is quite evident by trying to take the light away from their causes

• inconsistent stories of how she and Harry met, supposedly it's Misha Nonoo, but who knows

• implying she was pregnant, all but announcing it with that navy blue coat halfway open at Princess Eugenie's wedding

• overly flicking her coat open constantly and prancing around with her hand on her ever changing bump (whether real or not we will never know)

• embellishing her character by feeding us accolades of herself every chance she gets, especially on Sussex Royal

• rarely ever using the titles of more important senior royals, but overusing her HRH on herself

• having famous Hollywood friends constantly speak for her and how amazing she is, many whom she had NEVER met prior to marrying Harry, but invited to the wedding anyway; leaving out her own family members (especially her loving father who made a foolish mistake) on both sides who did nothing to warrant such cold-heartedness

• preaching about carbon footprints, only having two children, and saving the environment all the while jetting around in private jets around the world sparing no expense

• portraying this image of a humanitarian when she herself is seen constantly in astronomically priced bespoke, couture, and designer clothes and accessories that taxpayers find (well over a million now dollars as the 6th in line’s wide); paid or not by designers to advertise for them

According to The Star, “It’s a figure so staggering it’s worth revisiting. According to estimates — based on totalling up the approximated or stated retail values of everything she’s been seen wearing since November 2017 — the number is hovering around the $1.5 million mark. On her and Harry’s official visit to Ireland this spring, for instance, Markle wore over $52,000 worth of fashion in just two days.”

They also stated “The majority of Markle’s expenditure this year went toward her two wedding dresses: That Givenchy ceremony dress is thought to have cost around $330,000 and her Stella McCartney dress (or the capsule collection’s 46 replicas released after the wedding, at least) sold for $5,800. That’s a bargain compared to the $93,000 she spent on the Ralph & Russo frock she wore for some of her engagement shoot. Add in a $6,500 Oscar de la Renta dress to a wedding here, a $5,000 bespoke Carolina Herrera frock to a Trooping the Colour there, and well, you get to that million mark pretty quickly.”

• then there’s the vacant Forgmore Cottage that wasted taxpayers money if $3 million to renovate; apparently they don’t even live there as she’s in SoHo accommodations and he in his Nottingham Cottage

• playing media games with the facts and dates surrounding the birth of Archie and never allowing him to be photographed until it was on African soil for a docu-drama

• pleading for privacy over and over then showing up unannounced at events uninvited,

• filming a tone-deaf tactless documentary in Africa, revealing how she felt she's didn't have a fair shake in the royal family, the absolute nerve of she and Harry

• suing the press for racism and hate stories when she herself courts the press daily (she did pap walks in London right before it was announced she was Harry's girlfriend), when she has herself and Harry to thank for all the negative press as there's not one story pointing out criticism of her ethnic background

• lastly, there are the extreme fans called the “sugars” who go around defending MM every chance they get in a rageful manner like packs of rabid dogs if we comment on how we don’t like her style of dress or try to reason with a differing opinion to theirs on a certain news story

Have I missed anything? Likely so. I’m still new to this whole Markle debacle so excuse my errors and typos. The soap opera does go on and there are so many details and shady ways Meghan has portrayed herself past and present. From what I’ve seen, heard, and read from her own mouth and those who knew her well, “she’s a witch” as Candace Owens put it bluntly. I truly wanted to give the benefit of the doubt to her when she kept shooting herself in the foot.

She is NOT where Kate was when she married Prince William either. Kate was 29, unmarried and very close to her family with no previous marriages. Today, her family appear to be her rock solid support outside of Prince William. She assimilated well with the other royals who she now calls family. She listened to counsel, respected the centuries of tradition the monarchy had always followed. She won our hearts. Through and through, she can credit her great inner strength she possessed to overcome the constant ridicule to become the well loved future queen consort of Britain. That is no easy feat.

Meghan was 37 and many times divorced (one annulled with Joe Giuliano, an attorney she married after college), so maybe three if you count the common law marriage with Cory in Canada. Trevor was her first official one. So Harry may be her 4th! She had lived many lives before with connections to SoHo, being a yacht girl, then there are her ties to the wretches Jeffery Epstein, Hillary Clinton, Weinstein and their global agenda machine I would have to write a dissertation on to explain.

She appeared to have used her first official husband Trevor, a successful producer in his own right (she got a cameo in his film Remember Me with Robert Pattinson) to get her role on Suits as he’s done excellent for himself in the film industry as a producer. Meghan was somewhat popular in Toronto from the supporting role. She was being phased out soon after her relationship with Corey started as well. She needed a plan, along came Prince Harry one fine clucking night. Then, she set her sights on getting setup with him by Markus Anderson or Misha Nonoo; who knows with all these conflicting stories.

I said good for her at the start. At first it was incredible to see an ordinary girl from LA had married into such a high profile family, to a real titled Prince, no less! It was inspiring and fun to fantasize. Nevertheless, Meghan’s actions listed above, the various first-hand testimonies of people who were family and friends pre-Harry, her hellbent PR attempts to heighten her name, her lack of honesty, her contrived behavior pretending to be a coy ingenue, the scary desire to be Princess Diana by hunting Harry like a sport, and all the stories coming out about how she was searching for a famous British man to elevate her profile, and likely so much more to come, are why we are here with these accounts today.

Hate is such a blanket word overused nowadays in the media. But she has earned that word all on her own. We’re here to disprove and retort the stories churned out daily by her team Sunshine Sachs that continue to deceive the public. Everything is out there to see. Her character is out there to decipher online. You just have to stop reading the fluff and self-promotion and find her true nature pre-Harry to see her scheming social climbing insincere self-serving ways. So, please don’t make us out to be hating, racist, jealous, bullies because we don’t love her like we do Kate. Move past that because we’re tired of hearing it. There’s no other argument anymore for her sugars it seems. Excuse me for not buying Meghan’s pseudo feminism and humanitarian image. She is far from that of a humanitarian. Everything is written on the wall for her. She only has herself to thank for it.