#Internet complaining helps with my sanity i think

[iamagodjkimcatholicicantsaythat]

I've decided to award myself at work when I finish a task by mercilessly bashing my boss on the Internet (It might seem that I don't like my boss, which I assure you, is not true. I do... Me complaining about him on the Internet in the long run will be beneficial to him lol)

[calliesmemes]

ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED QUOTES FROM TUMBLR TEXTPOSTS, X (formerly known as twitter) POSTS, TIKTOK, MEMES, AND OTHER SOURCES AROUND THE INTERNET

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   Currently considering becoming a bother and a nuisance, maybe even a menace or a rascal. ”

“   Hungry? Eat the government. ”

“   Yes, I wanna fuck after every argument. ”

“   Silence, you uneducated peanut! ”

“  They should invent a being alive that isn’t so difficult. ”

“   Women have to think I’m hot or none of this matters. ”

“   Due to personal reasons I will be named an enemy of the state. ”

“   Being overdressed is a myth made up by people who didn’t want you to have fun and be sexy. ”

“   What even are daddy issues? Just traumatize your father back. ”

“   I LOVE complaining! You can’t take that away from me! ”

“   I went to the silly goose convention and they all knew you. ”

“   I’m simultaneously ‘I’m tired of this grandpa’ and ‘that’s too damn bad!’ ”

“   The word ew coming out of a pretty girl’s mouth holds so much power … I think that it can tear apart nations. ”

“   Someone made fun of my shoes and the whole time I just thought of ways to push them out the window. ”

“   If you’re short, simply get taller. ”

“   I better think twice? Buddy I don’t even think once. ”

“   My off putting looks, awkward demeanor, and strange behavior have captivated you. ”

“   There’s something deeply, fundamentally wrong with you. Can we kiss? ”

“   You are a fool. When you walk, clown music plays. ”

“   I mean yeah he’s evil and all but what if I were his favorite? ”

“   I really do hate thinking. ”

“   In my defense, I simply do not vibe with the law. ”

“   I’ve done nothing wrong. Except all the atrocities. Besides that, I’m innocent. ”

“   Sorry I couldn’t hear you over my internal monologue. ”

“   Of course you have white hair and trauma. ”

“   So apparently the bad vibes I’ve been feeling are actually ‘severe psychological distress’. ”

“   Stop calling me a bad person just because I’m orchestrating your downfall! ”

“   The more lip gloss I collect the longer I live. ”

“   Sorry that I am obsessed with you in the unhealthiest way possible. As if it's my fault ”

“   The multiple failed assassination attempts against me have helped build both character and self esteem. ”

“   I could be your loser boyfriend. Do you ever think about that? ”

“   Accidentally went and got myself killed yesterday, but god wont let me die so I’m back ”

“   What do you mean napping isn't a good coping mechanism? What do you mean my problems are still here? ”

“   Academic validation is required for my sanity. ”

“   RIP to everyone killed by the gods for hubris but I’m different and better. Maybe even better than the gods. ”

“   Researching the stages of grief to see if I can get them finished in ten minutes tops. ”

“   My parents were like I’m gonna make a child that is so beyond help. ”

“   It’s not easy to admit when you’re wrong, and that’s why I won’t do it. ”

“   Why can’t this family ever have a funky good time? ”

“   How do I show people that I’m more than my unethical career choice? ”

“   I fucked my way into this mess, and I’ll fuck my way out. ”

“   You look so biteable today. ”

“   Why am I suffering? I have so many correct opinions and takes. ”

“   I AM HAUNTED BY A PAST THAT I CANNOT GO BACK TO! anyways ”

“   Challenging authority, angering gods. The family business. ”

“   Third base is me telling you about my father. ”

“   Hey girl. Plagued by terrifying visions? ”

“   Got caught giving a fuck. Embarrassing. ”

“   I didn’t ‘miss’ the red flags; I saw them and thought that they looked sexy. ”

“   Do my dark circles and deteriorating health make me look hot? ”

“   I get my news from the only reliable source, cryptic symbolism in my dreams. ”

“   Another day of being a bisexual disaster. ”

“   I’m going to let myself be a little unhinged today, as a treat. ”

“   Some of you act like murder is such a big deal. ”

“   You wanna hunt me for sport so bad that it makes you look stupid. ”

“   You’re not a girlboss unless you’ve killed someone. ”

“   It’s so weird how no one ever has correct opinions about things except for me. ”

“   Hello, my love — I mean, my rival ”

“   No one is calling me baby and it’s outrageous I can’t believe it. ”

“   No talking stage. Mutual obsession and you see god in my eyes or nothing. ”

“   I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOOKUP CULTURE DIE IN MY ARMS ”

“   Yes baby your emotional walls are high and impenetrable can we kiss now? ”

“   Affection is disgusting. Drown me in it. ”

“   I am gatekeeping my respect from you. ”

“   Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions. ”

“   I am equal parts fuck around and find out and please don’t yell at me I’ll cry. ”

“   Short legs, big butt. I’m a corgi. ”

“   Fuck being the bigger person; I’m going to start biting people. ”

“   Well that wasn’t very slay of you! ”

“   May I please get a crumb of affection? ”

“   I crave power! Please don’t yell, though; I’m sensitive. ”

“   You call it a near death experience; I call it a vibe check from God. ”

“   Here are some scissors. Now cut it out. ”

“   Might commit a little tomfoolery, maybe even some shenanigans. ”

“   All these flavors, and you choose to be salty. ”

“   How can I live, laugh, love in these conditions? ”

“   What if I said ‘to be honest’ but then lied? ”

“   I'm financially at a stage where I understand why people do fraud. ”

“   Yes I may be evil and morally corrupt, but I’m also incredibly beautiful and I think that makes up for it honestly. ”

“   Debates are stupid. Why would I want to sit down and argue with someone blatantly dumber than me? ”

“   I forget but I do NOT forgive.. I'm just walking around hating bitches can't remember why ”

“   Ding dong your opinion is wrong! ”

“   I’m coming for your kneecaps. ”

“   You dropped your nose you fucking clown. ”

“   Are you a fire alarm? ‘Cause you are really fucking loud and annoying. ”

“   Call me an escalator, because I let people down. ”

“   I love me a good lesbian scandal! ”

“   If you can’t run away from your problems, you’re not running fast enough. ”

“   Everything I want to do is illegal. ”

“   Don’t make me hit your ankle with my Barbie scooter! ”

“   I tell gay jokes because I am a gay joke. ”

“   Fuck! I dropped my mental stability! ”

[chippedaxe]

Title: Loyalty To The Egg

Warning(s): cursing, NSFW, sub reader, tentacles, weird slime shit, rope bunny content, tell me if I should add more warnings.

Pronouns: They/Them, non specific anatomy

Synopsis: The reader gets fucked by the Egg’s tentacles.

Pairing: c! The egg X Sub! Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Note: unedited*

- if you’re not a dsmp fan and you see “egg fucks reader with tentacles” I’m rlly fucking sorry

- There’s a good chance that I’ll take this down since it’s like rlly weird but I’ll leave it up for now ig

- This was also not my original idea! I literally tried to look for who came up w this idea so I could tag them but I just couldn’t find them ??? If anyone knows who came up w the idea than pls tell me or tag them or smth ^^

♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪

Tentacles curled around your legs and pulled you to the ground, you winced as you hit the floor. Your body curled up on itself as you tried to get away, another tendril reaching out to softly pat you and calm you down.

Your heart was racing and you weren’t too sure what was going on, the egg’s voice spoke to you and informed you of what was going on which was not only scary but disturbing. “Calm down, don’t you want to pledge your loyalty to me?” The egg asked in a kind of unintelligible voice.

It hurt your head and your ears to be listening to such a harsh voice, it pained you with how the sound rang and echoed around in your brain. You were starting to feel sick, you reached to hold onto your stomach.

Your head was heating up and you were starting to feel intensely dizzy, the feel of a slimy tentacle creeping up your leg bought you back to your senses. You slapped the tendril away and backed up against the wall, the egg hissed a bit at you but then quickly calmed down.

“Don’t you want to join me? Have all of your deepest wishes granted?” You shook your head, you knew the egg had a great influence on the people it came into contact with so you were trying to hold on to the last bit of sanity.

The tentacles slowly crept back up to you but you refused to move from your spot, shaking gently as they approached you and started to wrap around your feet. “Come on, I know what you really want..”

You sighed and lowered your head to stare at the ground, your eyes glancing up at the egg pitifully “and that is?” You asked “power.” The egg’s voice had distorted more as it answered your question.

It wasn’t wrong. You’ve had nothing but utter disrespect given to you since the moment you came to the Dream Smp, it’d be nice to gain some power and show these lambs who’s really in charge.

You crooked your head and glared at the egg “sounds intriguing, doesn’t it?” You were truly considering your options here. You could try to run and ultimately fail, running back to the world of people who hurt you or…

You could flee to the care of the egg, the thing that is promising you greatness. Looking at the two choices in front of you like this, seems like it’s not such a hard decision after all!

Your lips curled up into a slight smile “Fine. I’ll join you, what do you want from me?” You allowed the tentacles to fully wrap around the lower half of your body, your legs unable to move apart from each other.

The egg gently pulled you closer, dragging you across the floor until you’re sitting just beneath it. “I just need you to prove your loyalty” it didn’t sound like such a difficult task at first, you believed that you’d just be instructed to kill someone or recruit others but this task was a bit more complicated than that.

“Let me inside you..”

Your eyes widened “what??” You weren’t sure what you heard, you thought hoped it may have been a misunderstanding. “You need to willingly accept me into you..” the tentacles squeezed your legs tightly.

You gulled nervously and nodded “o- okay” you didn’t know what you were thinking at the time but you hoped this was a good choice. The egg seemed thrilled by your decision as it spawned my tentacles to engulf your body.

Your armour was tossed to the floor, a loud clacking noise echoing the halls. Your clothes were torn as well, most of the fabric still being attached to your body apart from the large holes that were created to expose your sensitive bits.

Your pants were ripped at and torn off, the thread loosening and falling to the ground along with the destroyed fabric. You whines when you started to feel the tentacles’ suction cups sucking on the soft skin on your thighs.

You moved your arms to push the sticky tentacles off your thighs but that only encouraged the egg to tie your hands behind your back, you gasped and tried to get them out of the egg’s grasp but to no avail.

“Let my hands go!” You complained, the egg ignoring you as it’s tentacles slid up your torso and started to gently toy around with your nipples. Your face grew hotter and a large lump appeared in your throat that you couldn’t swallow down in that moment.

The suction cups returned, pinching your nipples and suckling on them like a regular human would be able to. You cringed at the feeling of the tentacles starting to lactate a sticky slimy consistency, lathering your body in it as it touched you.

You had in fact agreed to this but it was still so weird to you!

Another pair of tentacles lunged at you and tore off your underwear, rubbing your crotch gently just to lather it up with the slimy lubricant before pushing into your hole gently “fuck!” You cursed out loud. You arched your back and clenched your eyes shut as you felt it penetrate you, it felt weird and you hated the feeling of the slime inside you.

You growled out loud “do you recruit all your followers like this?!” You shouted, getting no response in return. A gasp leaving your mouth as the tentacle dug a little deeper into your body, suction cups clinging to your tight fleshy walls.

You couldn’t help but start to enjoy the feeling of the tentacles fucking you, your face scrunched up and you tried to focus on your climax. The egg started to enter a second tentacle inside of you, both of the tentacles being quite the tight fit.

You screamed in pleasure and went to cover your mouth with your hand until you remembered your restraints, feeling embarrassed as your pleasurable noises left your mouth.

Your walls tightened around the tendrils, the pressure from your stomach bursting and leaving you a panting mess on the ground. Sweat dripped from your forehead onto the ground, a weird smell emitting from you now that you had just came.

The egg seemed satisfied as it pulled its tentacles out of you, a small but deep rumbling coming from the egg which shook the floor gently. You moved now that you were released, legs a bit too weak to be able to walk so you just stayed kneeling in front of the egg.

“You have proven your loyalty to me, thank you” you bowed your head down “what now, boss?” You asked.

———————-

*wrote this in my notes (copied and pasted) so it might be formatted/look different!

- also if no one could tell, I don’t rlly know the egg? I’m not 100% caught up with the dsmp so I got a lot of the info off the internet.

[alirhi]

Loki ranting

Okay. I had this thought in my head of like just compiling links of all the Loki shit I've posted/reblogged so far so that when I get into a conversation about the show and how it fucking disgusted me, I can just be like "here. here's this masterlist post, go read all this shit. This is my entire argument, and not only mine, but a lot of stuff posted by people far more intelligent and level-headed and eloquent than I am, whom I happen to agree with." Because the alternative is constantly getting fired up all over again, and that is exhausting.

BUT! I'm stupid and don't know how tumblr works. Apparently I can't just be like "give me all the Loki-tagged shit I've got" I can only search all the Loki-tagged shit on all of tumblr. And I'm not scrolling back through all of my posts. I talk too fucking much for that shit 😂

So, I'll try to remember all of my grievances with how the MCU has treated Loki, and all of the excellent posts made by other, equally upset fans, and put it all together here under this nice, neat little cut for everyone else's sanity and scrolling convenience...

For people who actually read my shit fairly regularly - bless you, you crazy, patient people. I love you! - this is going to be a lot of repetition of shit you've already read. Probably at least twice. I'm passionate and I have a terrible memory lol. Sorry.

Anyway, first, for those who don't know me and haven't been following my explosions of rage for the past couple of months, some quick background: I do not read comic books, so Loki's Marvel comic canon means nothing to me. I know almost nothing about it. The reason I'm so in love with the character in the MCU is because I am an eclectic witch and the deity I've actively loved and worshiped the longest in my life (literally for as long as I can remember) is Loki. So when he was mentioned in The Mask, I squeed. When they named Matt Damon's character after him in Dogma, I cheered.

When Thor came out in 2011, I just about died from happiness. I was hungry for any representation of this underappreciated god, no matter what it was. I didn't even bitch about how underpowered he was, because at least he was there. But I'm getting slightly ahead of myself.

I can hear anyone reading this going "Why Loki? Isn't he, like, evil? Like basically the Norse version of The Devil?" Because I heard all this shit irl all the fucking time. And no. So let me give you a quick rundown of who Loki actually is.

Loki is a Trickster God. He's often referred to as the God of Mischief. He is not and never was evil, simply chaotic and hedonistic. Loki Laufeyjarson was the son of Laufey (that's mama; they changed her to a man for some reason in the movie) and Fárbauti. Right from the start, from his name, we get a sign of how Loki goes against traditional norms of the time, because in Norse culture, families were patrilineal, and surnames were "son/daughter of father" (which would have made him Loki Fárbautitason), not the mother. But Loki's surname is matrilineal. Feminist icon woo! lol

Though he's a Jotunn, Loki is counted among the Gods (Aesir) in Norse tradition. Depending on his mood, he is alternately helpful or disruptive to the other Gods. I'm not gonna sit and teach a whole text class on him lol but I'll use my favorite example of Misunderstood Loki - the conception of Sleipnir!

So, get this shit. This is also part of why I DO NOT follow Odin and never fucking will (a very small part, but still part of the reason). So, the other Norse Gods are petty motherfuckers, and they wanted some shit built but didn't want to pay the dude doing the building. So they were like "okay, if you can get it done in X amount of time, we'll pay you, but if you can't manage it NO MATTER WHAT, this whole thing is free." And they made sure he had NO help, nothing but him, his materials, and his Very Good Horsey. And this guy and his horse were fucking BAMFs. So it was looking like he was definitely gonna get it done in time, and Odin was like "nah, fuck that shit. I'm cheap." and so he sent Loki to distract the work horse. Loki transformed into a mare and lured the horse away, got fucked, got pregnant, gave birth to the 8-legged (for some reason) horse Sleipnir. Odin rides Loki's son into battle. Um. Kay.

So Loki helped Odin be a petty mf, and Odin got himself a new pet out of the deal.

Oh, also, because he's smart af and a shapeshifter and a master magician and genderfluid, Loki "fails" to fit the super fucking toxic and narrow Norse/Aesir view of "a real man". He prefers intelligence and manipulation to solve problems rather than violence, he's not afraid to behave like a clown if it gets shit done, and that grosses the Aesir out, so they constantly ridicule him for being "less than a man".

Loki is the God of the outcast and the misunderstood. The marginalized people from all walks of life. He is the God of the LGBT community. In modern terms, he's pansexual, polyamorous (married to Sigyn and they are deeply in love, but boy gets around and I've never seen any indication that Sigyn gives a shit) and genderfluid.

Okay. Focus, Ali. This is part of why I usually post multiple rants instead of one big long one XD The longer I ramble, the more I get sidetracked and forget the original point.

So. Loki's awesome, and being a Trickster, is powerful as all fucking hell. There's not much he can't do.

And now we come to Thor (the movie, not the deity). Loki's there! 24-year-old Ali is spazzing! All is right with the world!

Oh lord, they've actually done him justice?! Amazing! He's complex and nuanced and emotional, just like the real Loki! I loved this movie. Loved. It. The climactic thing with trying to blow up Jotunheim never really made much sense to me until someone made an excellent point the other day about Loki being raised in a racist society that was racist against his own race, he just didn't know it yet, poor child. Baby Thor was never corrected when he pledged to commit mass genocide, so Baby Loki probably absorbed the lesson then that Jotunns=evil and killing them all will win his father's love. Anyway, 2011 Loki was a beautiful, heartbreaking portrayal of the God I've loved all my life and spent 24 years longing to see depicted on the big screen.

Then The Avengers happened. And I saw another Loki very close to Norse mythology - mainly, how he's treated. In the beginning of the movie, he's sick, exhausted, and in pain. He can hardly stand, he stumbles and needs help when he walks. He was very obviously tortured, and the sickly blue light of the scepter's control is in his eyes. That gets less and less pronounced as the movie goes on, showing Loki working his way free of it, but in the beginning, he's a mess. Because he was tortured and used by Thanos. Marvel directly confirmed this, and that he was under the scepter's/Mind Stone's control. Loki's actions are not his own in The Avengers. He's under both threat and Thanos' direct control. The movie actually shows The Other directly threatening him to keep him on task, because this is not Loki's plan. It is not what he wants. He's being used and villainized... Just like in real life. It hurt to see this done to him, but the accuracy was too beautiful to ignore.

Thor: The Dark World comes out. I've heard people complain that this movie is the weak link in the Thor trilogy. I disagree. I think that's Ragnarok, for a bunch of reasons, but we'll get there. (And for the record, I loved Ragnarok, too. It was a funny movie. Infinity War and the Disney+ series are the only portrayals of Loki in the MCU that I truly fucking hated.) Anyway, good, fun movie. Had its faults, as all movies do, but it still followed Loki's real-life arc in a way. How? By having Loki dragged back to Asgard in chains and imprisoned underground. Again, not super happy that this happened to my love, and having to see it on screen was painful, but at least in the MCU he's not chained to a rock with venom dripping on his face for eternity, so there's that. (poor Sigyn. how tired do her arms get, holding up that bowl? best wife ever, amirite?)

In TDW, we're shown Loki's love for Frigga, who favored him and taught him magic as a child. We see his bravado; his attempts to mask his true feelings, especially grief. We see him slowly coming back to himself after the events of The Avengers, and slowly mending his relationship with his brother. He accepts that Odin will likely never love him, but Thor just might, because they were close when they were young. "I didn't do it for him." No, no my sweet, you did it for your brother, and a little out of guilt for what happened to your mother.

At the end, Loki fakes his death and escapes, taking the throne, and I have mixed feelings about this. Not the writer's choices here; I love that completely! A natural progression in Loki's story. But my joy is tainted by how closely they're following the Eddas now. Because Loki's escape from his prison heralds the beginning of Ragnarok. And Loki will die in Ragnarok. I don't want to see that play out in front of my face. I won't be able to handle the grief (spoiler alert! IW broke me. I almost walked out of the theater. Loki's death was legitimately fucking traumatic for me. I don't even care how pathetic that is. That grief was real, it was intense, and I still shake and cry when I think about it.)

Marvel announces that Thor 3 will be called Ragnarok. The internet treats this as a shocking revelation. I roll my eyes and mumble "duh" to myself and move on XD

Then they say Ragnarok will be a buddy comedy. I throw up a little in my mouth and no longer want to live on this planet. If they're going to make something called Ragnarok, could they at least treat it with even a fraction of the respect they've shown these characters thusfar? Jfc. I mean, I'll see it anyway, because I'm a whore for Tom Hiddleston lol. But come on, people!

I hated that they made Hel the long-lost older sister and Fenrir her fucking pet/attack dog. Those are my favorites of Loki's children! Hel is such an incredible badass that the early Christians named their dimension of eternal torture after her! They were terrified of her, to the point of naming the place that terrified them most after her. That's awesome! And Fenrir's just the best. I love wolves. Those two details, and Odin's retcon of "we're not Gods! ...lol, except your sister. she's totally a Goddess. and def gonna kill literally everything, so... good luck! byyyeeeee" pissed me off royally.

The rest was great. I genuinely liked this movie. Still do. And they finally used The Immigrant Song! That was pretty cool. If they'd thrown in Bring the Hammer Down and Thunderstruck, I might've called this movie perfect. XD

I wasn't totally in love with their portrayal of Loki in Ragnarok. Yes, the falling for 30 minutes line was funny, as was "I have to get off this planet" and "YES! That's how it feels!" And "Get Help" was funny as hell. But also, like... There is no way Loki would have been the dumb one in that first encounter with Hela. Also, he can teleport and project copies of himself and shit, so... He would not have been that desperate to go straight back to Asgard and bring her right along with them. Loki's not stupid. But whatever. Movie's gotta movie.

What I did love was seeing the slow mending of his relationship with Thor continuing, and the badass fighting on the bridge. I also loved that, like Real Loki, Movie Loki helped when help was needed, was quick and clever, and while he was carrying out the main plan, he was also planning ahead and grabbing the Tesseract. Yes, that drew Thanos right to them, but that's a whole other thing. Loki never would have left that thing on Asgard to be destroyed or lost.

And now Infinity War. Hooooly fucking shit. You know what? No. I'm not going into this. He was killed, years of character growth were erased forever, my heart fucking shattered. The end.

Endgame. IW hurt me so bad I didn't see Endgame until this year. I actually watched Civil War first (for context: I had actively avoided all Cap movies until this year because I fucking hate Steve Rogers. I find him insufferable. Did not realize what I was denying myself until I watched CW and finally saw the charms of Bucky. When he appeared in IW, I was so lost. XD I was like "...who dis? Murder Jesus?" also I just... didn't care. I was numb by then from crying through most of the movie over Loki)

So, anyway. Endgame. Loki picks up the Tesseract in alternate 2012, escapes, fans go "yay! he didn't actually die!" I go "yes he fucking did. Five years of his life, gone. Five years of growth and change, erased. Loki is dead. This will not be the same."

I was more right than I could have predicted. Now we come to the point of this rant. Sorry it took so long, but you were warned lol.

The Loki series makes me so angry I actually get sick to my stomach. It was fucking TRASH. When I praised Marvel for following Norse mythology so faithfully earlier? Yeah. I DID NOT MEAN TREAT HIM THE WAY THE OTHER GODS DID. I did not mean paint him as a pitiful clown, a joke, a caricature of who he truly was, with his pain and suffering played for LAUGHS.

This is supposed to be 2012 Loki, newly freed from Thanos' control. The Loki we saw in the beginning of TDW - snarky, exhausted, nihilistic. The Loki who rolled his eyes and said "get on with it" expecting to be killed.

The bumbling clown flipping on a dime from posturing to calling himself weak is not 2012 Loki. That is not ANY Loki. That is Tom Hiddleston in a black wig doing what he's told by a shitty writer who had no fucking idea what he was doing and was salty about his (bad) original script (for something totally fucking unrelated) getting killed.

In Episode 1, Loki is mocked, imprisoned, stripped against his will, tormented, belittled, and given a flippant summary of all the trauma Actual MCU Loki suffered that this one skipped out on, with no context, no acknowledgement of the trauma he's already lived quite fucking recently, and with the narrative twisted to not only erase all the abuse he's suffered, but to make it all his fault. And this is supposed to make him want to help these people?

And worse, IT FUCKING WORKS. WHAT?! I CAN'T- FUCKING WHAT?! Remember when I said LOKI IS NOT FUCKING STUPID?! So why is he STUPID?

Episode 2, he's a child. Mentally, this Loki is a fucking child. Now we've erased all the growth and development of his entire adult life. He's dopey, impatient, impulsive, desperate for a pat on the back and actually shows it. Yes, abused and neglected children crave the positive attention we never received, and we often grow up to be a bit emotionally stunted. But not all of us, and not Loki. Not as we've seen him EVER in the rest of the MCU. Playful and a bit callous at times? Absolutely! But not a big dumb fucking puppy.

Episode 3, a ray of hope, despite Sylvie! (I hate Sylvie) Loki casually admits he's pan/bi; labels never come up, but he admits to being with both men and women! He sings! Not really relevant to whether I approve of his portrayal or not lol but Tom has a beautiful voice, Norwegian ("Asgardian" lol) is a gorgeous, entrancing language, and I could watch that one bit on loop for eternity and never get bored. And then, finally, we see a glimpse - a glimpse - of Loki's power! He stops a falling building and pushes it right back up! Are we finally getting to see what he can really do? Will the next episode bring us Loki in all his glory?

Nope. 4 and 5 we see him mocked and pushed around and utterly irrelevant. Again. We see tiny reflections of what he could maybe theoretically do in other random Loki variants, but the "main" (lawl. main. it was the Sylvie and Mobius show. Loki was never the main anything.) Loki? Nothing. He wears his heart on his sleeve for no reason, bonds with the man who imprisoned, taunted, and gaslit him, is killed, and continues to be a moron and a joke. Always the clown. Always the dumb one. The one with the bad ideas. The inferior Loki.

Don't even get me started on that finale. I can't. This already took so much out of me. Fuck Marvel. Fuck this fucking show. I just... I'm done.

[chattingwiththelightkeeper]

A Big Bang, Mr. Spock, A Vintage Toy, And The Newer Submissive...

After an insanely long day being a good worker bee, I was doing more work at home with the TV on as background noise. There was a Big Bang Theory marathon on and it was serving a great purpose of entertaining me during breaks in my work. Then suddenly found myself caught up in an episode where Penny purchased for Leonard and Sheldon new and mint in box Star Trek toys from the 1970s. To make a long story short, Sheldon gives in to his id, breaks open the box, and plays with his toy. This adventure turns tragic and humorous when the toy breaks and he goes to great lengths to hide this while attempting to exchange his broken toy with Leonard’s still mint inbox. Sheldon’s antics as well as the process he follows to admit what he has done provided a welcome break from my work crap-o-la. This pause in my work did spark a thought about kink and hopefully, over the next bit, you can see how Penny, Leonard, Sheldon, Mr. Spock, and a 1970’s Star Trek transporter toy made my brain think about what it is like to be newer to the lifestyle and submissive.

Sheldon’s broken transporter toy caused me to think back to my childhood and I think we all knew a kid who was always breaking their toys, on purpose and this child’s parents would simply buy them a new one to replace the broken toy. No matter how many times or the expense this spoiled youngster would just be given a new toy as a replacement. Sadly, some of these compulsive toy breakers did grow up and find their way into the world of D/S. However, now that they are all grown up the toys they are breaking are not G.I. Joes or smashing Ken and his car through Barbie’s dream house. They are preying upon and attempting to shatter something much worse, the new submissive.

I want to chat about how someone new to the lifestyle can potentially discover these toy breakers before learning this life lesson through experience. First, know these people are not dominants but are predators who are out looking to prey upon those who are new. If you have almost been or have been victimized by one of these creep-its do not blame yourself because they are very good at what they do.

I want to start by talking about an experience most people who are new have and they are hopping around Tumblr, FetLife, or the kink-friendly site of their choice on a dark, starry night and they stumble upon someone who has created an image that they are an expert. Now on many sites that are kinky-based or friendly, many people are amazing leaders within the community and they exist side by side with the faux expert and their evil spawn, the predator hunting new people. I can imagine that it can feel very challenging to try to figure out which is the wheat or the chaff, so I have some suggestions that my help identify those with bad intentions:

They will often be dismissive of others in the community. The thoughts and opinions of anyone who dissents from their views are dismissed and disparaged.

These people may use phrases like sub trainer or even scarier sub breaker. Remember, even though a person may be a new submissive, they are still unique and their likes/desires do not need to be trained and certainly not broken.

They will not want someone to seek opinions or ideas from others, especially if those thoughts vary from their own.

If they post writings and not just hardcore porn, their writings/thoughts may feature soft, sensual D/S images where the pictures are powerful, inviting while designed to mask what is hidden in the words. While not all who use words and images together are bad but it is imperative to focus on strictly the words by removing the visual from your mind.

Look for contradictions. For example, if a d-type says they are a feminist or they support women’s rights but when you carefully read their words phrases “like all women naturally desire a dominant partner” or “women were designed to serve their leader” appear.

Blog posts and their expressions will often contain references to taking, seizing, overpowering, or any other word/phrase that denotes submission is something that can be taken, captured, demanded, or simply expected. Submission can only be freely given by the submissive and I believe a dominant will never ask for or in any way attempt to coax it from an s-type.

Anything that implies a submissive is weak or not as powerful as a dominant. Submissives are not weak or in any way shape or form less than a d-type.

Do not fall for the old line that a real submissive will or will not do/act a certain way poppycock. It is up to you to decide what is real or not. Just because you want/enjoy something that someone else dislikes, does not diminish or take away from who you are or make you less submissive. If you see or hear this line of crap-o-la, know what it truly is, an attempt to bully you or someone else into doing as the dumbinant wants.

Relationships, kinky or vanilla, are still partnerships. People who are dismissive of this should be looked at with a wary eye.

Beware of fake news in writings and blog posts. Some of the more creative predators will appear to reference scholarly work to support their beliefs. Even though you see references to legitimate scholars, for example, Dr. So and So says, there never is any documentation. Writing a kinky blog post does not sound like a place for documentation, but if you are going to using other’s work to support a thesis or use a quote, documenting the source (right down to the page number) is imperative because it is the right thing to do (which speaks to the person’s honesty) but also so the reader can verify that the quote or information is not taken out of context or fabricated. Remember, “All quotes on the internet are true” - Abraham Lincoln.

Be wary of those who use dominance to hide their insecurities. No matter how accomplished an individual is, everyone has insecurities. Some claim dominance but will also deny having even a single insecurity.  Should you encounter this, channel your inner Robot, “Danger Will Robinson, Danger!” Robot, Lost In Space.

Never accept or allow someone to tell, imply or suggest that you should distance yourself from family and/or friends. Those that prey often look to break a submissive from their support system.

Build friendships with other dominants and submissives so you can seek advice from them. Even if they are casual, they can be a sounding board and second opinion.

Being dominant is not an excuse to not be respectful to others. Those who express that a dominant cannot be courteous or are so cocky that their behavior is asshatted, need to be stepped away from.

The only person who knows what you want and is YOU. Do not allow others to suggest they know better than you what your thoughts and desires are.

If you feel that you are being manipulated or if a dominant is making you question your sanity, RUN! Always trust yourself and your feelings.

We all have heard the expression that life is short, but also remember there is no reason to rush into things. Take your time, learn about yourself and what you want. You do not need to jump into any relationship or be pressured to do so. It may take you years before you feel comfortable in the lifestyle. There is no hurry. Life is a journey, enjoy it.

Always be careful with the information you share with someone online as predatory individuals can use this against you. Think of it as having your “rights” read to you. Anything you do, say, or share can be used against you, so always be conscious of what you are sharing.

Building trust is a great thing but when you are vetting someone, always verify.

If the conversation is led or focused on kinky play, sex, or both, this is a red flag that this is all the individual is seeking.

Always inquire about safe words and run faster than Forrest Gump from anyone who says they refuse to use/dislikes them. Being submissive does not in any way remove your right to say no for any reason and at any time.

There is no one true way to get your kink on and what works for you is amazing. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise.

Lastly, dating in the world of kink is a very complex process. Your vanilla friends may complain about the complexities they face but do not forget that kink relationships have to work as vanilla relationships while blending in D/S. Do not fall into the trap of trying to just match fetishes because the perfectly imperfect partner will fit both your traditional, vanilla relationship needs as well as your lifestyle needs.

Thank you for taking the time to read this as I know it is a bit on the long side and many people online seem to have the attention span of a nat, so I appreciate the investment of your time. I also hope that some of my thoughts will help keep a newer to the lifestyle person from having a bad experience while giving lifestyle veterans a pleasant reminder on safely getting to know others.

As with all of my writings, please see this disclaimer.

©TLK2021

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 18

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 18

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The akuma of the day turned out to be the editor-in-chief of the tabloid that tried to spin a story about Damian and Allegra. It might’ve had something to do with the fact that the Mayor’s office, Kane Industries, and Wayne Enterprises were going after his newspaper for libel and slander. The Printer was defeated by Pink Tigress, who was working with extreme prejudice that day. Ladybug arrived just in time to purify the akuma. 

After it was all sorted out, the group retreated to Wayne Manor, where they met Chloé waiting for them. 

“Good. You’re here. Now it’s time to plan a counter-attack.” 

“What?” Marinette asked, surprised.

“Counter-attack on Erica and Lila. They practically declared war with that stunt!” Chloé raved on.

“Huh?” Damian was equally confused.

“Apparently, ‘The Printer’ was paid a rather large sum to have this article published without checking credibility. He did these things before.” She explained.

“So they actually started to play dirty?” The bluenette asked

“They didn’t!” Tim ran inside the cave, panting. “How in a hundred treadmills can you run so fast?!” He stared at the blonde.

“Puh-lease! I just used a short-cut.” She huffed. “One could think you accuse me of… physical training.” She made a disgusted face, but she was smirking. 

“Tt. So did they attack us or not?” Damian scowled and started to sharpen his sword. Where he got the sword from was not important at that moment. Everyone long since gave up on trying to track all his hidden weapon stashes. 

“They couldn’t. Neither has that amount of money. I traced it to a foreign account registered on Emma Rose Blake.”

Marinette’s eyes widened and she stumbled back as if the name slapped her. “ Adrien… ” she whispered.

“What!?” Damian was on his feet in an instant.

Sabine grasped her dagger before her expression turned soft and she walked to hug her daughter. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’re not alone.”

“I… Adrien snuck out once. He wanted to watch that movie that starred his mother.  Solitude. ”

“I remember! That one threw a wrench in my search for a while.” Tim beamed.

“We stumbled upon each other and he took me with him…” She remembered and blushed lightly. “I only saw the intro, but from what I found out on the internet, his mother was the lead. Her character’s name was Emma. Rose. Blake.” She told each word separately, making sure they got the message.

“So that bastard thought he could get the two of you to break up?” Chloé asked. “Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! The two of you are the sweetest, most loyal couple in the whole of Gotham. And besides, the blasted spell wouldn’t let anything like that happen. We’ve seen the effects.”

“Tt. It does work both ways.” Damian’s face was twisted in a scowl. “And I reserve my right to skin the cat and feed him to sharks. I’m sure Penguin will let me borrow some.” 

“I’m… not sure if you’re joking…” Tim stared at his brother, worried about his sanity.

“I’m not.” The youngest Wayne cut him off. “That flea-ridden alley-cat is intruding on my bond. My marriage. The league… It’s the single most sacred relation for the members of the league. For me.” He grabbed Marinette’s hand. “And he will suffer for trying to separate us.”

For a moment, Marinette stared at him, taken by surprise by his revelation. Then, she cuddled into his side.

“I’m not leaving.”

“I know.”

“Also,” Chloé decided to interrupt the cute moment, “you’re trending.” She showed them a video.

Marinette and Damian were standing on the table in the cafeteria, holding hands.

“...I trust Damian with my life. I’m his and he’s mine!” She declared. There was steel determination in her eyes, but also flame that burned bright.

“I’m hers and she’s mine.” Damian echoed. He had an identical expression on his face. They raised their joint hands before turning to one another and sharing a quick kiss. In the background, many people cooed at the romanticism of the scene. Then, a black butterfly sneaked through the window. Marinette looked at it and grasped it from the air. When she opened her hand, it was a mess. 

“Not today, Hawkass Junior.” She seethed. Then, like a queen she was, she and two blondes by her side left the place among applause. 

“Someone recorded it?!” She started blushing profoundly. Damian’s cheeks were also red. 

“Tt. Who did that?” 

“Claude.” Chloé smiled. “But that’s not the important part.”

“Then what is?” Sabine asked. “Also, I want a copy of that video.” In response, her phone vibrated.

“Maman?!” Marinette moaned.

“The ‘Not today, Hawkass Junior’ is breaking the records on Twitter and Tumblr.” She smiled. “You’ve become a sort of a hero today. MDC is now  the  designer. Jagged Stone went live and he spent five minutes doing nothing but praise you!”

“Only five minutes?” Damian asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Penny found him and dragged him by the ear from the screen. After that, it was only Fang posing before the camera.”

“That’s… That’s Jagged alright…” Mari giggled. 

Damian only huffed. 

Chloé’s phone vibrated and she opened the link. She laughed for a good two minutes before she was able to speak. “Mayor Kane... just declared... ‘Not today, Hawkass Jr.’ to be the official motto... of the campaign against his terror.” 

“Can I make an MDC shirt with this?” The designer beamed. “I know! I’ll make a pillow! No! A…”

“You can make an entire collection, sweetie.” Sabine was grinning. “You’re the hero both in and out of the suit.” She cooed. “And you’re so cute! I’m totally sending this video to Sandra! And uncle Cheng! He’ll love it!”

“Maman!” Marinette moaned again, but she was smiling. She had people that wouldn’t abandon her. 

--------

Two days later it was finally Saturday, which meant a bit of freedom from the kids at school. In hindsight, Marinette preferred it when she was not that popular. Of course, Chloé did what Chloé did best and worked her crowd control magic. She wasn’t constantly accosted at school. At least not by most. Maps made her into a personal hero of sorts.

Now though, it was Saturday, which served as an excuse to stay late in bed, spend the whole day with Damian before spending the evening watching cheesy movies with Chloé and her mom. It would be a perfect Saturday. 

She got dressed in her favorite red dress, making sure to wrap the rope dart under the sash. It wouldn’t do to leave home without any means of self-defense. Not in Gotham at any rate. Her hair fell down her back and curled slightly. On her left wrist, she put a small gold bracelet with a single pearl. It was light and didn’t attract too much attention, but made her whole outfit stand out slightly. She paired it with high stockings and black ballet shoes with silver ribbons. After a thought, she picked a black glossy leather wristlet. Damian promised they would be going somewhere special. 

When she got downstairs, he was already waiting, dressed in a semi-formal outfit. His suit was of course MDC original. He had dark trousers, a white shirt with the topmost two buttons open and a jacket with sleeves rolled to his elbows. All in all, it gave a bit of a roguish vibe, different from what he wore on most occasions. Marinette made sure he wore nothing but her creations. He tried to protest that it was too much work, or at least pay her something for it. She threatened she would forbid him from paying for anything for her. Damian made a mistake, arguing that she was living under his roof. Her response was to start calculating rent. He relented and allowed her to dress him up to her heart’s desire.

“Hello, Habibti.” He smiled at her. 

“Damian! Will you tell me where  we are going?” She hugged him. 

“Not yet.” He said mysteriously. “We’re going somewhere special and I want to surprise you.”

“Daaaamiiii!” She tried again but to no avail.

“Tt. You hang out with Maps too much.” 

“She’s cool.” 

“She’s irritating.”

“That’s just because you’re not willing to give her a chance.”

“She thinks I’m Batman.” He huffed.

“Curious why.” Marinette retorted, smirking. “I’m sure the fact Robin led her for a gift hunt had nothing to do with it, am I right?”

“Tt. I admit nothing.” He tried, but a small smile made its way on his face. Curses! Why did she make him so mushy? 

“I knew there was a heart somewhere deep inside.” She continued, smirking triumphantly.

“Don’t be ridiculous. All people have hearts.”

“Even Erica?”

“She’s not a person. She is just walking irritation.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Marinette said. They were walking down the road, bantering to and fro.

They arrived at the gate, where a sports car was waiting for them. Damian took the driver’s seat and pointed her to the shotgun. The car radio was playing the song they danced to during their dance-off. It was full of life and brought back some fond memories. 

“Can I know where we are going now?” She begged. 

“Not. Yet.” He said with a confident smirk. “You’ll love it though.”

“Fine.” She relented and remained in her seat. Marinette decided to focus on the sights outside the window. 

They were driving through the city. She saw that the mayor wasted no time and ‘Not today, Hawkass jr.’ indeed became a city-wide slogan for the campaign about positive thinking. Marinette had a not-so-small suspicion that Chloé and Allegra had something to do with it. She wouldn’t put it past them to artificially boost the popularity until it exploded. Not that she complained that much. If it helped stop more akumas, she was all for it in fact.

Finally, the car pulled in front of the Gotham City History Museum. Or at least Marinette thought it was the museum, from the angle she couldn’t be sure. Before they got out, Damian handed her a blindfold. 

“You’re joking?” She stared at him. “It’s a museum.”

“How did… Nevermind. I have a surprise for you.”

“Why would… No way!” She connected the dots. “But… But we didn’t do that much!”

Damian looked at her with a mixture of amazement and mirth. “I’m surprised Bourgeois didn’t share the news with you.”

“She was too busy hanging out with Cass yesterday.” She then got a pensive expression. “The two of them hit off better than I thought.” 

“True. I’m disappointed with Cassandra, but alas.”

“No, you are not. You’re happy that she’s making friends.” Marinette countered with a smile. 

“You have no proof.” He dropped the blindfold and got out. “Come on or we’ll miss it.”

In response, Marinette put on her sunglasses and also got out. On both walls of the museum, there were giant posters of Ladybug and Black Cat in their heroic poses. He was standing straight on the dark background, with both hands on the baton that served him as a cane. He was looking left, toward the Ladybug poster. He looked serious and a bit intimidating. Ladybug on the other hand was smiling and overlooking all the passers-by. They’ve used her new suit, for which she was eternally grateful. Marinette would probably burn in shame if they decided to stick with the original. 

Inside, Damian led her through the entrance, showing the tickets. They went straight to the Superhero hall, which previously was called just Bat-hall. Marinette was feeling a whirlwind of emotions. She remembered the statue unveiling back in Paris, but it was after months of activity. Here, Gotham accepted two more heroes after a few weeks. Granted, Hawkmoth jr. was much more persistent and his akumas more destructive (plus they had even worse fashion sense), but Marinette still didn’t consider herself special enough.

Reporters from various newspapers crowded around the podium on which stood Mayor Kane. Allegra was by her side. When the young blonde spotted them, she winked at them and smirked. Marinette waved to her in response while Damian guided her toward the front row. He was a Wayne. He didn’t settle for anything else.

The ceremony was lovely and Mayor Kane spoke kindly about the new heroes. Not once she broached the subject of their age. The statue itself was tall, with all three Miraculous users standing side by side, Ladybug in the center, and slightly forward. After that was done and the mayor answered some questions, Damian prodded her slightly and the two snuck out unnoticed. He led her toward the back and onto the stairs that led to the rooftop and the couple was away from the prying eyes. They walked up and opened another set of doors that led them outside. 

The day was a bit chilly, but several heaters placed on the rooftop made it feel perfect for how they were dressed. In the center, there was a blanket with a picnic basket and a small heat-isolated container next to it. 

“Damian!” Marinette giggled when he hugged her from behind and nuzzled into her neck. 

“A surprise.” He whispered. 

“But… How… Why… And on the rooftop?” She gave him a questioning look.

“Heaters needed a power source.” He answered before leading her to the blanket. “And it was closest to the previous attraction.” 

When they sat, cuddled together, the boy pulled a small box of strawberries. Marinette immediately snatched it from him and tasted it first. She practically melted at the taste. Seeing the look of betrayal on his face, she smirked and picked another. 

“No.” He protested when she put it before his mouth.

“Come on Dami. A plane needs to land.” She kept smirking. Damian tried to keep his dignity, but ultimately he gave up and allowed her to feed him. “See? It wasn’t that hard.” 

“Not a word of this to anyone.” He grumbled. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Okay… Only Chloé and Allegra.” She giggled at the horrified look on her husband’s face. 

Deciding to change the subject as fast as possible, Damian asked “Did you like the statue?”

His wife beamed. “It was amazing. I showed you the one in Paris. I mean that one is okay too, but this was actually much better! It acknowledges not only me but all three of us. We are a team and I want us to be represented as such. And did you notice that they actually replicated the tail behind you fluttering?”

“It was indeed adequate work.” He replied, reserved as usual. 

They sat in peace for a bit more, with Marinette occasionally feeding Damian a strawberry. They didn’t really need to speak, instead just enjoying the monotonous sound of cars before the museum and relaxing with each other’s embrace. 

Feeling a bit mischievous, Marinette tapped Damian’s shoulder and made him turn to look at her. As soon as their eyes met, she leaned and fed him another strawberry. Except this time instead of holding it with her hand, she was holding half of it in her mouth. This, of course, led to two of them kissing. Both of their lips tasted like strawberries. 

It wasn’t a long or passionate kiss, but it was still full of love. 

When they broke, Damian had a funny expression on his face and Marinette giggled. He shrugged and pulled a thermos from the container, pouring both of them a cup of hot chocolate each (together with marshmallows). 

Damian regaled her of some of the tales about his great detective skills and how often he saved the day. She kept giggling and pointing out obvious mistakes, to which he huffed good-naturedly. He tried to stay away from subjects related to the League of Assassins and his childhood, but Marinette coaxed some stories out of him, careful not to prod too much. She respected his decision to leave it behind, but at the same time, she wanted to understand him. In the end, they just laid on the blanket cuddled together, with all the sweets consumed. 

“Damian… I love you.” She nuzzled into the crook of his neck. 

“Yes. You told me that at the airport. And several times after.” His logical brain responded before emotions took reins and he continued. “I love you too.”

“But I feel like it was always in response to something you said. I wanted to tell you that from myself. I love you.” She cuddled closer to him and he hugged her. 

“ Habibti, ” he whispered.

“ Mon chéri, ” she answered. 

After some more cuddling and looking at how the evening sun slowly set behind the monumental towers of central Gotham, Damian finally untangled himself from Marinette and got up. He helped her on her feet and turned the heaters off. 

“It’s time to go. We have two more places to visit.” He informed her and led her down to the museum proper. They snuck out of the staircase and joined one of the trips unnoticed, before leaving the building and avoiding anyone seeing them. It was fun to do teenage things sometimes. 

-----------

Their next stop was a small Italian restaurant that was out of the way and mostly empty. Damian had a table reserved there and made sure to pick one that was out of the way, in the corner that overlooked the whole place. What Marinette didn’t know was that he paid to have the tables next to them kept empty. 

They settled on a vegetarian lasagne with grilled swiss cheddar, spinach, and ricotta. Marinette wasn’t a vegetarian herself but after their little picnic, they wouldn’t fit two separate dishes. She enjoyed the tastes Damian introduced her to since they met each other. Especially (to Plagg’s delight and Tikki’s mirth), she loved the various cheeses that he exposed her to. While she sometimes still ate meat, it happened more and more seldom. Alfred’s cooking was on par with her uncle’s. 

Their discussion was much lighter now that they weren’t entirely alone. She smiled when he accidentally referenced Game of Thrones. He tried to deny it but in the end, he had to confess or people would think he knew what a ‘meme’ was. That was humiliation beyond what he could survive.

“...I’m just saying that if it’s a bit strange that Allegra and Claude always disappear together.” She finished her speech. 

“Tt. As if my cousin would lower herself to dating the clown.” He huffed. 

“I didn’t say they’re dating. It’s just that for at least two weeks now they kept slipping away.” 

“You’re imagining things, Habibti.” He dismissed her concern. 

“Okay, but what about Felix and Jon? They also run aw… ay…” She suddenly froze when a large group of people pushed their way into the restaurant. On the front, Lila and Alya were guiding them right to where the couple was sitting. 

Marinette heard Damian curse under his breath before suddenly everything was enveloped by thick, black smoke. She felt someone grab her wrist and pull her into a nearby door. They found themselves in the kitchen, Damian leading her between working cooks. Marinette saw how he pulled a phone from his pocket and texted the restaurant owner. He also paid double for the trouble with the smoke bomb. Luckily, the owner apparently understood the need for a quick getaway. The class on the other hand would be in for a rude awakening.

“That was close…” Marinette sighed in relief. 

“Tt. I should’ve challenged them to a duel for interrupting us.” Her husband scowled. 

“I told you no killing.”

“They would survive… probably.”

“Still. Now, where is that secret birthday party supposed to be?” She had a hard time keeping a straight face when he choked on his own saliva and stared at her with wide eyes. 

“It was Claude?” He asked harshly. 

“Of course not. Did you really think I would forget my birthday?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“You did forget Christmas.” He pointed out. This time, it was Damian’s turn to try and not show any reaction to how she started spluttering. 

“That… I… But… It… We… It was something completely different!” She finally shouted. 

“Whatever you say, Habibti. As for the party… Let’s go. They should be ready by now.” 

------

Chloé was running around the club they rented for the evening. She was doing at least seven things at once, but that wasn’t important. She needed the party to be perfect. She already made sure that all guests were in place and she was now fixing some of the decorations that were not to her liking. She had trouble balancing all the things she was holding and placing them one by one. Then, someone took the weight from her.

“Maybe I can help?”

“Thank you Maribear…” Then, Chloé’s brain registered. “Maribear!?”

“Surprise!” The bluenette cheered.

“How?!” The blonde jumped back, startled. 

“Tt. She blackmailed me.” Damian grumbled from behind his wife.

“Um… With what exactly?” Tim walked from his hiding place. The rest of the guests followed through. 

“Now. It wouldn’t be effective blackmail if I told you, right?” Mari turned and looked at him with a smirk on her face. 

“True. Happy birthday, sweetie!” Sabine was suddenly behind her daughter, Chloé, and Damian. She managed to startle all three of them. 

“Maman! Don’t scare us like that!”

“Payback’s nice.” Her mother and Chloé responded at the same time. 

“They got you there, Angel.” Damian decided to repay her for the blackmail. 

“Hey! You’re supposed to take my side!” She giggled. “Besides, it’s my birthday.”

“I’ll try to remember next time.”

With that, the party started.

-------

Masterlist // Next

[lovelyirony]

162. “They told me you died. And I screamed. I screamed until my lungs hurt too much to continue.” Pepperony? ty!!

When Pepper was twelve, her aunt introduced her into the world of romance books, movies, and television shows. Pepper generally liked them, although some of the historical-fiction-romance books were a bit too corny for her taste. 

Throughout all of these, there is one message that has been repeated: You Will Do Anything for Love. 

She thinks it’s...well. It’s not something that necessarily makes sense to her. Like sure, she would go to the grocery store at eleven at night to get ice cream for her partner, or she would help them with a project. 

But dying, sacrificing yourself? She can’t imagine that. She can’t imagine doing whatever you have to for love. 

Until Tony. 

A lot of people are under the impression that Pepper is “dealing” with Tony. That she has these long-suffering sighs, that Tony is a man-child who can only handle so much and she handles the majority. 

That is far from the truth, although he still doesn’t know his own social security number and forgets dates of things. 

But Tony is fun and he surprises her, and he’s so soft when he wants to be. He knows when she needs to have some sort of snappy commentary, when she just needs him to sign things and pour some nice wine for a night in. 

Iron Man is something that she’s afraid about. Because maybe she’s being selfish, but she hates how much Tony goes out and fights the good fights. She wants him to come home and not wince when she kisses the bridge of his nose, not grimace as he puts weight on a leg that got hit pretty badly. 

And being inside of a suit of armor doesn’t mean he’s safe. He doesn’t have super healing, he doesn’t have any of the advantage of the others. He’s human, and that’s all he is sometimes. It terrifies the shit out of her. 

-

It was supposed to be a routine mission. One he’s flown a thousand times, one that he always complains about as a “waste of time, honey, honestly. I would much rather be sleeping in with you-” 

- 

He’s lost, they say. Pepper wants to deny it, because how could you lose someone like him? 

But people have been asking that question for centuries about those they love. And she knows that you can lose anyone to anything, and you have to deal with it. 

It’s not quiet, at least not in the house. 

She screams and cries and barely eats anything until Jarvis has to remind her to eat anything, just something that will her up even halfway. 

Her voice is hoarse. She can barely use it and she hates the world for still turning, but it does. 

That’s a comfort to some people. That life still continues on, that people have continued on. But it is not a comfort to her, it is bitter. To see people find new love all the time, to have friends over, to still be living. 

It’s a curse, she thinks. 

She doesn’t come into the office for two months. She doesn’t have to, and most everyone is too scared of her to tell her to do anything. 

No one’s sure exactly how Stark Industries will do without Tony. God knows they’ve planned for it. Pepper had, ever since she discovered the suit of armor and Tony’s been planning since before that. 

He had told her once when they were both getting drunk on a patio on a late summer evening, and he told her that he wasn’t sure that he should have kids. 

“I’m the world’s biggest fuck-up,” he had said, laughing at himself. “Why would I subject anyone to another generation of that?” 

That was before they were together, and it was when Pepper was dating someone else who was very...safe. 

Pepper’s learned since then that she’ll never like safe. She tried to convince herself of that, but she can’t. Not since she loves Tony as much as she does, not since she can’t look away from the news. 

- 

Three months in. 

Three months in, and Pepper gets an ad. 

This isn’t necessarily suspicious. 

But the thing is, it’s one of Tony’s funny little things that he does; he makes little ads for her throughout the day so that her day doesn’t suck as bad. Usually it’s for outlandish tourist traps that they’ve never visited. 

This time, it’s for the largest ball of twine, somewhere in Kansas. 

Come unravel the truth for yourself! the ad blinks, flashing furiously fast for something that was made so recent. 

She would expect that ad in the early days of the internet, when everything was flashy and people thought that was the only way to grab your attention. 

The phrasing is...odd. Why would you go there to “verify” it for yourself if it was already something they thought? 

And why for somewhere so far away? 

She doesn’t want to be one of those desperate, sobbing partners who refuse to admit the truth, search frantically for something that might not be there, is literally almost guaranteed to not be there. 

But fuck it. What else does she have to lose? Her sanity? That’s not exactly something she’d miss. 

- 

She starts by having Jarvis look through her entire computer. 

He finds one anomaly. An anomaly that shouldn’t be there, because Tony is the one who everything-proofed her computer, and he’s the only one who should be able to send the questionably-sourced advertisements. 

Jarvis picks up a very faint signal. 

- 

Pepper finds out that she gets her own suit. 

She scolds herself inside her own head as she feels a thrill race up her spine. 

She’s bringing him back, her heart sings. 

The problem is that she hasn’t told anyone. She doesn’t want anyone to know, doesn’t want anyone to see him if he’s...gone. 

So she touches down at an abandoned warehouse and her heart thrums, and then she’s surrounded. 

“You know, I was told that he had new tech,” the man says, sneering. “I just wasn’t aware it came with such a pretty woman attached.” 

“It also comes with three different bullet varieties to test out,” Pepper says sweetly, the darts coming out of the shoulders. “Would you like to test out how well they cut through you?” 

“Oh, we’re about to have fun.” 

It’s not as much fun as this guy predicts. He’s an old colleague of SI, as it turns out. Got fired about five years before Pepper got hired for some “misconduct” that was quickly swept under about a million other press releases. 

He’s very good at underestimation. 

Pepper is blasting through any attack he might have had, and the system in place for the armor--Friday--is adapting quite well, considering the circumstances. 

Fighting still takes a considerably long time, however. She’s starting to get frustrating, and then she gets asked a question: 

“You currently have lasers at your disposal, Miss Potts. It would help the situation, although it can be a mess. Would you like to use it?” 

“...how bad of a mess?” 

“I can aim for nonlethal areas.” 

“Shoot for the stars, Fry.” 

“As you wish, Madam.” 

There is lots of screaming. She wishes there wasn’t. She wishes she could be a better person, but she can’t. Not when Tony is so, so close and not when she loves him as hard as she does. 

- 

He’s tied up, thin, and more bruised than he’s been since...since he came back from the desert. 

But he looks at her, and she knows that they’ll make it out. 

“Did you...you got the ad, right?” 

“I got the ad.” 

“Good. I wasn’t sure...” 

“Sh,” she says, putting her hand to his face. “We got it. We got it. Did they take your armor?” 

He thinks for a moment, and she feels terrible. But she knows how much it would help him, how much he cares for his creations. 

“In the briefcase. It needs a secondary DNA signature if I hit distress.” 

“Is Rhodey the secondary?” Pepper asks, panic rising in her voice, because she wants to get out of here, get to a safe place, fall together again. 

“No. You.” 

She visibly sighs in relief, and smiles. 

“I love you.” 

“The only piece of knowledge that got me through,” Tony says. “That, and the promise of pizza when we get back.” 

Pepper rolls her eyes affectionately. 

“We’ll debate when we reach home. Where’s the briefcase?” 

“Two rooms over, on the left. I think.” 

- 

The other people who are left in the building don’t put up a fight. They’re all untrained in combat, and one comment from Tony leaves them well-aware: 

“This is my partner. She’s pissed. Do with that information what you will.” 

-

His suit goes on, and Pepper can see stress bleed away from his body. 

“Go home,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to his helmet. “I’ll meet you there.” 

“I’m sorry if you didn’t want the suit,” Tony says. “I’m really, really sorry. But I figured it could make you safe, I didn’t want...I didn’t want you to ever have to use it.” 

“You know me better than that,” Pepper says. “And I...I don’t mind this, honestly.” 

“You don’t?” Tony asks, confused. “But the whole getting-rid-of-the-suits-on-Christmas?” 

“...I’ll make it up to you.” 

Tony smiles, and she’s missed that. 

- 

The flight home is much better. She can enjoy some of it, and Friday even puts on a bit of music for the trip home. 

Tony is already lying down, and people know the news. She lets the team run through, getting confirmation. So long as Tony allows it, so does she, although she does take a bit of liberty and cut off public visiting hours at nine p.m. 

He’s exhausted, already asleep. 

Pepper still sits, still looks at him with all the stars and promises that can be held by one earth in her eyes. 

"I’m happy you’re here,” she says. “Because I would’ve ended the earth to get you back again.” 

[griff-us]

Black Out Days | Chapter 2

Pairing: James Bucky Barnes/ Original Female Character.

Important Tags/Genre: AU-canon divergent, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Eventual Relationship, Depictions of Violence, Fluff, Angst.

Word Count: 2338

Summary: He is decommissioned; more out of a personal choice than from outside pressure. James wants nothing more than to live simply---considering the over complications and trauma of his one hundred and six years of existence. So, he leaves New York and settles in a small town off the coast of Maine.

And that’s when he meets her. An odd little bartender by the name of Honey. And that's when his life once again faces complications.

Authors Notes: I'm really just free-forming this from start to finish. Rather than writing about the events of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier I'm gonna focus on the in-between. The next chapter should be out in a week! Likes, reblogs are always appreciated, and if anyone wants to be on the tag list feel free to let me know! I'm also gonna make a master list before the next chapter comes out for my own sanity. Thank you all for the support so far!

Also on A03

84 Dive becomes a safe space for him--at least that’s what his therapist had informed him. James had admitted one day very casually over the phone that he didn’t understand why he kept going back. By all accounts the dingy dive bar was, well just that; graffiti scribbled all over the bathrooms---even the toilet seats. Stickers and posters from past bands and shows had begun to peel and wither away from the sickening, decades old paint that coated the walls. Not to mention the unruly regulars.

“You’re comfortable there, James. Just enjoy it.” That's what she had told him, and while he sits at the shoddy old bar he wonders briefly if it is the bar itself, or perhaps the scrappy little bartender that keeps him coming back.

“I smell smoke.” as if on cue, Honey appears, her many braids piled high on top of her head in something akin to a messy bun. James cocks his head, and she’s a keen one, having already picked up on his silent little quips. “You think too much, James.” she grins, hands busy hand drying the pint glasses that sit on top of the bar. He stays silent a moment, fingers flexing around his own glass. He can’t exactly get drunk anymore, but the act of having a beer or two after a long day feels---normal.

“Bucky.” he finally relents, and it's her turn to tilt her head. “Call me Bucky.” Honey beams at him, and nods.

“Alright, Bucky it is.” She tests the name against her tongue, and he finds himself wanting nothing more than to hear her repeat it. “M’ gonna be closing up soon, it’s a bit too slow to stay open. You’re welcome to hang around while I clean.”

He takes stock of the room and finds it empty--when had that happened? Flesh finger taps the cracked screen of his phone: 23:00. James doesn’t answer, but he stays put watching while she shuffles around behind the bar.

“You from this town?” shoulders roll while he leans back in his seat and Honey humms idly, as though she were debating on how to answer.

“No, I moved here about seven years ago.”

“Why?” the question slips out easily, suddenly. Honey pauses, and watches him from under long lashes while she hand washes the last of the shot glasses.

“You’re awfully talkative today.” James takes the moment to gulp down the rest of his beer. Lips smack, and he makes a point to unclench his jaw.

“My therapist told me I should talk more, make more friends while I’m here so--” he throws up a hand as if to say, and here I am.

“Bucky Barnes has a therapist?”

“Condition of my parole.”

She laughs, and it nearly knocks the breath out of him. It’s like wind chimes on a breezy summer day. And God damn if the way her entire face lights up, those dimples of hers making an appearance, doesn’t knock him down and out. James clears his throat, looks down at the chipped and cracked screen of his phone again.

“Sorry--” Honey simmers down, hands tuggin the white cloth from her back pocket to dry her hands. “--parole. Just, what a world we live in, yeah?”

“You’re telling me, doll.”

“Well, I’m all done here. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow night?” Honey skirts out from behind the bar, and he can’t help but watch as she rummages through the nearby supply closet to grab her backpack, and a change of shoes.

“Gonna be out of town for a little bit, actually.” James stands to follow her up the stairs and out the front door.

“A shame, who else will be around to keep me engrossed with such thrilling conversation?” he cocks a brow, eyes rolling briefly while she stifles another laugh.

“You say’n you’ll miss me?” Where the hell did that come from? He regrets the question as soon as it leaves his lips. Honey rolls her shoulders while she locks the door behind them.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” James calms his nerves and averts his eyes. There’s no one around, the street empty save for his bike, and then it hits him.

“How you getting home?”

“I walk usually.” Honey jerks a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of what he assumes to be her home. But he is having none of it. James tutts at her, and motions her toward his bike.

“It’s late, I’ll give you a ride.” gloved hands snag the helmet from his seat, holding it out to her. Honey looks him over, and then the bike.

“I don’t wanna take your helmet, what if you get hurt?” It’s his turn to bark out a laugh, and he notes the way her cheeks flush just so.

“Super soldier, doll--” he taps the side of his skull. “--remember?” Honey grins, and snags the helmet from his hands.

-----

“The hell are you looking at?” Sam’s voice yanks him back to reality, and irks him to no end all in one moment. James locks his phone screen, tucking the device in his pocket while shoulders press back further into the hard metal of the plane. Sam cocks a brow, as if to pester him further, and James is starting to regret forcing his way into this little operation.

“Don’t worry about it.” a beat of silence, and finally, he mumbles. “Look'n at instagram.”

He’d found her profile easy enough; people these days were easy to find on the internet, and always posting something. Her bio was simple: name, age, location, and the page itself was a few selfies, pictures of friends and food. It was cute, simple. Very---Honey. Her last post was what looked like a candid shot; as though someone had caught her mid laugh. She was at the bar, though not working; clad in jeans and a nice top, her hair split into two buns that sat perched on either side of her head. James could hear the sound of her laugh in the back of his head while he traced the curve of her cheeks with his eyes.

“Since when are you on Instagram?” Sam looks puzzled, and perplexed. Someone speaks over the intercom, a red light blares overhead. James stands and follows the other to the door.

“Shut up.”

-----------

“And you didn’t punch him?” she’s pours him another beer, and makes sure to set it down on the coaster provided. James had been gone nearly a week with Sam, and with the mess of everything that had happened he is more than happy to be back in his favorite dive bar.

“I figured I had probably broken enough laws already that day.” he plucks the glass from the bar top with gloved hands, and Honey shakes her head.

“Who would have thought John Walker would be such an ass.”

“Everyone.”

“And what kind of name is Battlestar?”

“Thank you!” James throws his hands in the air, still as irritated as he was when he first heard the ridiculous title. Honey chuckles some, surprised to see him so animated.

“Well, I’m glad you made it back in one piece.” James eyes flicker high, and she's staring at him so intently---the honesty in her tone is hard to miss. And he wonders, just for a second, if she had been worried while he was away.

“You never told me why you moved here.” he has to change the subject; brain moving a mile a minute with what ifs, and anxiety. He needs to ground himself in something other than his own mind. Honey quiets some, just as she had the last time, and as sigh slips past full lips.

“Oh you know. Moved out of my hometown to get away from my past. Wound up here, and just haven’t left.” James notes the way the honey in her eyes falters as she talks of home.

“I can relate to that.” a pause. “What happened?” Honey leans against the bar, elbow propped on top of it, pointed chin resting in the palm of her hand.

“A man.”

“Aren’t they the worst?” lips quirk into the smallest of smiles, as though he were trying to lighten the mood.

“You’re not so bad.” That throws him. Mouth opens as if to say something, anything, but his brain is blank and James is rushing to make sense of his cluttered thoughts. Honey watches him, a laugh bubbling forth and spilling from between parted lips. “Speaking of men, I need a strong one to help me with something tomorrow; think you're up for it?”

He’s thankful for the topic change, and James nods while he taps a finger against his glass.

“Sure can, doll, long as I can get another beer.” She plucks his glass from the bar top, a muted smile spread across her cheeks while she turns to pour him another.

------------

“Could you have found a heavier couch?” Of course she needed help moving something; James can’t imagine the woman needing to ask help for much else. Honey had pointed out the antique sitting out on a curb only a block from her house. Just need to get it up one flight of stairs, she had said. James thought it easy enough, but he forgot how heavy and awkward old furniture could be.

“Are you complaining, Mr. Super Soldier?” Her voice rings like bells from the top of the stairs of her apartment building, and James grunts some while he readjusts the couch against his shoulder.

“Not really. You better have beer up there for something as payment or else I’ll have to bill you.”

“Oh, so you plan on staying for a while, Buck?” Her tone is light, teasing, and he can’t help the grin that splits his face while he lands the last step. They have gotten more comfortable with one another; comfortable enough to tease, flirt, and jest. It’s nice. To be comfortable around someone again.

“I’ll stay around long as you need me to, Doll.” he catches the flush that graces her tanned cheeks, and a lopsided grin splits his face. They stand there a moment in silence, eyeing one another before James finally clears his throat. “So uh, where is this going?”

“Oh!” Honey zips down the hall, beckoning him to follow while hands busy themselves with the contents of her bag. “It’s a little messy-” James slips through the open door all the while easily maneuvering the musty old couch along with him. “Right here--” Honey motions to an empty spot just under two massive windows and he deposits the piece of furniture with a thunk. James takes stock of the apartment; bigger than he thought it would be. The space bosat a decent sized kitchen, separate living area, and small hall he assumes leads to the bedroom.

“Hope you’re not allergic to cats, there’s one kicking around here somewhere. She’s a bit of a drama queen, watch out.” Honey meanders through the kitchen, and James can hear the clatter of her keys hit the counter. He pokes around the living room, impressed with the plethora of healthy growing plants---all of them hung or tucked into clean shelving for maximum sun time. Books litter every flat surface, some crime thrillers, but mostly random subjects such as philosophy, poetry, and history. It’s very---her, he thinks.

“Got that beer for me, Doll?” she rounds the corner, handing him an amber bottle with a fancy looking label. Brow arches, and he pops the top to take a swig.

“It’s some local craft beer, not my favorite. I’d rather stick with liquor.” Honey chuckles lightly while flopping down into her new couch, and James watches while she seems to take stock of the new addition to her home. “Thanks for your help, Buck.” Honey lounges back into the sofa, her tiny frame sinking into old foam. An easy shrug rolls from his shoulders, and James moves to join her.

“S’no issue. No way you would have been able to lift that on your own.” James leans back along with her, legs spread slightly so that their knees touch. Honey hums idly to herself, chin creadled in the palm of her hand and he wants nothing more than to reach out and smooth the crease in her brow with the pad of his thumb.

“What are you thinking about over there?”

“Food.” he laughs some, gloved fingers picking away at the label of his bottle. “Lets get dinner, my treat?” Honey looks at him then, cheeks tinted a crips shade of pink and James grins.

“Are you asking me on a date, Doll?”

Full lips open to answer, and he watches as embarrassment creeps onto her face. But before she can answer his phone rings--a loud bleating noise that makes them both jump. James holds up a single finger as if to say, just a moment, and he answers without even checking who it might be.

“What?”

“Well hello to you too, princess.” James recognizes Sam’s voice right away. “We’ve got a lead, you in?”

“Yeah, send me the location.” Honey watches while James stands, his drink left on the side table and long forgotten; she chews her bottom lip while he finishes the last of his conversation.

“Sorry, Doll.” he gives her a sad sort of smile, and Honey waves a hand as if to imply there wasn’t any issue.

“Duty calls, I guess?” James nods and slips his phone into his back pocket.

“Yeah, not sure how long I’ll be gone this time.” Honey stands to follow him to the door, and he doesn’t miss the worry that fills her eyes, or the return of that crease between her brows.

“Just be safe.” Her voice is quiet, distant, and James leans forward to press cool lips to her cheek. Her skin is as soft as he’d imagine, and this close she smells of vanilla and lavender.

“Don’t worry about me, Doll.” too nervous to stay any longer, James pulls away quickly, and leaves while gently shutting the door behind him.

[lancearcherinrippedjeans]

Eternity - Chapter 2

**********

Starring - The wonderful OC's, Wardlow, WARHORSE, The Elite, Tony Khan and The Best Friends. (small appearances from Penelope Ford, Kip Sabian, Britt Baker, Dani Jordyn and 10 of the Dark Order)

Word Count - 5,612 (this took us a LONG time)

Category - Fluff, comedy, romance, friendship

Pairings - Wardlow/OC, Kenny Omega/OC

Part 2/?

Summary - It's Sawyer, Veronica and Nova's first day at Dynamite. They hope it's everything they dreamed of, is it?

Warnings - Drinking, swearing

other author's notes - make sure you follow @adriii-omega !!! she's the mvp for this chapter!!

**********

“Sawyer, Nova, wake up!” Veronica whispered, trying to shake her friends awake. “Mmm, five more minutes,” Sawyer mumbled, almost inaudibly. “C’mon! We’re here!” Nova cracked her eyes open, looking out the window of the plane, admiring the sunrise. Veronica finally managed to shake Sawyer fully awake, getting a low groan in return.

Sawyer looked out the window, hiding a mesmerized expression with a snarky comment, “I cannot believe you guys just woke me up to look at the sunrise.” Veronica rolled her eyes at her friend’s sarcastic response, turning to look out the window the rest of the flight. “Did you stay up all night?” Nova asked, stretching out the places she could. “No, I was asleep until about 5, then woke up because of the butterflies in my stomach,” Veronica replied, smiling right after it. Sawyer turned to look at her, “The flight attendant gave you coffee didn’t she?”

Veronica reached to hide the coffee cup that was given to her, “No, not at all.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are now landing in Jacksonville, Florida.”

Sawyer, Nova, and Veronica all got up and stretched their legs. They picked up their belongings and made their way out of the plane, meeting up with Warhorse in the lobby. “Are you ready for your big night?” Veronica asked. Sawyer was still half asleep so she walked slower than the rest of the group. “I got it all under control, but you guys have to do good- or you could never get a call from Tony Khan again.” “Well, thanks for the support, Jake,” Nova said with a bit of sarcasm. “Don’t worry you guys got this,” Jake assured them. They all waited for their uber, so they could get dropped off at their hotel near Daily’s Place.

Time Skip

“This bathroom is bigger than my apartment,” Veronica said as she admired the fancy room they were staying in.“These small shampoo bottles are going to only cover an inch of my hair - I’m going to the front desk to see if they got any more,” Sawyer complained, as she closed the hotel door and made her way into the elevator.

She pushed the first-floor button, and as the doors opened she was met with a muscular friend. “Sawyer? Is that you?” Wardlow asked, as he almost dropped the bottle of water he was holding. He just got done working out and was making his way back to his room. “Huh? OH- Hey…Michael.” Sawyer awkwardly shuffled around him, trying to avoid his stare. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Do you maybe want to go get lunch-” but the elevator doors closed cutting him off. Sawyer leaned onto the wall letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She wasn’t ready to fully start talking to Wardlow again like nothing happened.

Sawyer pulled out her phone to Nova, almost dropping it from shaking.

Dude, you will not believe who was just in the elevator

...Who? I’m not a mind reader.

-_-

Tell me!

Michael. Fucking. Wardlow.

What are the chances?

Omg! Did you say anything to him?

Barely! He tried saying something but the doors closed. GOSH, it was sooo awkward :(

HA! See what happens when you avoid your problems?

🖕🖕🖕

“You won’t believe what Sawyer just texted me.” Nova laughed as she handed Veronica her phone. Veronica came over to read the messages, also making her laugh. “I knew it would be sooner or later they saw each other.” Veronica jokes. “When did Tony and Kenny say we needed to head to the arena?” Nova asked. “At least by 5, Kenny had assured me last night before we got on the plane.”

“KENNY gave you his phone number!?” Nova asked, shocked. “Oh, yea. He did, I forgot to tell you guys before we got on the plane.” Veronica smiled, acting like this was nothing. “Oh my gosh! Oh my GOSH!” Nova started freaking out, and it didn’t even happen to her. “It’s not THAT big of a deal. He’s my boss.” She half lied.

“Boss huh...did you tell Sawyer then?” Nova queried, crossing her arms over her chest. Veronica looked back and forth from her phone to Nova, “Yeah, of course, I did...you think I wouldn’t tell her?” Veronica replied, before thinking, “You’re a liar. You’re a lying liar who lies.”

“Oh so you could tell her but not me?” Nova rolled her eyes.

“As I said, it's not a big deal. He is my boss, we’re professional athletes.” Veronica said.

“Watch you get all the opportunities for sleeping with the EVP of the company.” Nova joked. Veronica threw up a middle finger behind her back and lowered it before she could look. Soon an out of breath Sawyer appeared in their room.

“That was so embarrassing. I can never go out in public again.” Nova and Veronica laughed. “DON'T LAUGH- I almost made a complete fool out of myself, he was sweaty and his tight shirt was sticking to his body and…” “Ew, too much information.” Veronica faked gagging at the very detailed description.

“Seems like Mr. Mayhem still makes your knees weak.” Nova laughed. Veronica stifled her laughter and Sawyer groaned. “Get me when it’s time to leave. I’m taking a nap and hope I don’t wake up.” she marched to her room and slammed the door. Nova and Veronica jumped before busting out laughing.

Time Skip

“Sawyer, drag your feet one more time,” Nova complained, Sawyer was still walking slower than her friends. “I won't if you let me ride shotgun.” Veronica turned around to face the two, “Um, Sawyer, it’s your turn to drive.” “What why?” “Veronica and I have been the drivers for the past five shows. You set up the system.” Nova chimed in, happily walking to the back.

Sawyer groaned, walking to the driver’s side of the rental. They all closed the doors, Veronica reaching for the radio. Sawyer started to pull out the parking lot, following the GPS to Daily’s place. “When was the last time you talked to Micheal anyways?” Veronica asked, rolling down her window. Sawyer inhaled sharply, “Last time we talked was when I congratulated him on his debut.” “November?” Nova questioned, surprised. “Yeah...I mean we just kind of stopped communicating.” Sawyer said with a bit of sadness in her voice.

Veronica and Nova shifted uncomfortably in their seats, awkwardness filling the car. “Anyways, we need to focus on tonight. No distractions.” Sawyer prompted. Veronica laughed, “You’re telling me, that you will keep your sanity when you see Mr. Mayhem in that ring?” Sawyer opened her mouth to argue- but quickly shut it. “Worry about your problems.” Nova laughed in the backseat. “Nova, why are you laughing? You need to stick with one man.” Veronica shot back. Nova took offense to that, “Well then why don’t you tell us about your late-night talks with Kenny Omega?” Sawyer almost crashed the vehicle, “You’re talking to Kenny Omega, and you didn’t tell me?!”

Veronica slouched down in her chair trying to hide. “I thought you already told Sawyer?” Nova asked. “She didn’t tell me, but SHE TOLD YOU?” Sawyer squawked.

Nova and Sawyer started to quarrel, back and forth. “Guys! Guys! Stop, we can’t do this now! It’s our first night at AEW and we’re already arguing.” Veronica pleaded, making the friends stop. Sawyer turned back to the road, breathing heavily in and out. “Veronica you could’ve just been honest,” Nova said, pouting. Veronica sighed, looking out the window, “I know.”

“Yeah. Dinner’s therefore on you tonight.” Sawyer chimed in, trying to lighten up the situation. They pulled into the Daily’s Place parking lot with a brighter mood. “I can’t wait until we all get signed, so we don’t have to split the bill a thousand times,” Nova said. They found the closest parking spot and began to get out of the car. The argument in the car was long forgotten as they stared at Daily’s Place. Nova smiled the hardest she had in a long time, as she pulled her luggage behind her. Sawyer and Veronica tried hard not to get too emotional, but knowing them they would laugh and cry about it later on. They followed behind Nova and finally made their way in.

“This place is a lot bigger than a high school gym.” Veronica jokes. Nova was taking photos for her Instagram stories, and Sawyer tried not to bump into the thousands of people helping to set up the ring. “I never want to leave,” Nova said as she took another selfie. Sawyer noticed that a lot of the wrestlers were giving them looks. “Have you noticed everyone looking at us? I’m so close to saying something.” Sawyer mumbled in Nova’s ear. She lowered her phone and looked around. Veronica gave them a confused look.

“Hey? Are you the girls from that triple threat match?” They turned their heads and saw an interested Dustin Rhodes asking them that question. “Depends.'' Nova began. “That match was awesome. We’ve all seen clips on the internet. You three got something. Welcome to AEW.” Dustin let his hand fall for a handshake. Veronica was unsure at first, but then lowering hers as well.

Sawyer and Nova did the same as everyone else around them gave a light round of applause. Dustin had given them the heads up that they might want to stop into the EVP office before they got situated. They passed a lot of wrestlers on their way there. Running into almost the whole locker room.

Sawyer couldn’t help but feel a little down as she didn’t cross paths with Wardlow. Veronica on the other hand was starting to sweat at the thought of seeing Kenny Omega. It seemed like they had gotten comfortable with each other enough to call each other “friends.” After what seemed like forever, they finally found the words “The Elite'' on one of the doors. Sawyer raised her hand to knock before it opened revealing a lively Tony Khan.

“Sawyer! So glad you’re finally here. Come on in.” He moved over to let them in. Matt and Nick Jackson sat on a couch while Kenny sat across from them busy typing away on his phone. Veronica's stomach dropped as she saw Kenny not even look in her direction. “Young Bucks. This is Sawyer, Nova, and Veronica.” Kenny’s head popped up finally noticing they had entered the room. “Veronica? Hey…I’m so glad you’re here.” He lightly smiled, making her turn her head to her friends who were looking at her with blank expressions. “Hey Kenny, remember us?” Sawyer said which knocked Kenny out of his trance. “Of course, I was very surprised by your performances; from each one of you.”

“He’s not lying,” Matt spoke. “He wouldn’t stop talking about you.” Kenny blushed a shade of pink. “I know talent when I see it.” He shrugged. Tony agreed. “Really blew every other match that night out the water. I can’t wait to see what you guys bring to the table for AEW.” Tony had told them everything they needed to know including inviting them to go to a local bar after the show later tonight. He made sure to give them the minor and major details before having to go check on everything else for the show tonight. Nick was the first to speak up, “Well if you three are any good as Kenny claims you are, I’m excited to see you guys in action.” Matt nodded in agreement. “Your dressing rooms are just in the hall over,” Kenny added.

Nova and Sawyer tried to contain the grins coming from their face, “Three ACTUAL ROOMS right?” Sawyer asked. “We promise.” Matt crossed his heart. They rushed out of the EVP room while Veronica stayed back. Nick and Matt noticed as they cleared their throats. “We’re going to go check on the other talents. It was nice to meet you.” They smiled and sent a wink to Kenny. He ushered them out the door, before shutting it. “You never told me you talked so fondly of our match.” Veronica put her hand on her hip, as Kenny chuckled.

“I didn’t talk about the match that much.” He walked over to sit on the couch, with Veronica following him. “What do you mean? They said you loved our match.” He ran his hand down his face before fully looking over at her. “Oh, I did; you were incredible by the way, but,” Kenny hesitantly grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers. “I mostly talked about you.” Veronica tried to fight her grin, but couldn’t contain it. “They’re going to kill us.” she laughed.

“They’ll get used to it.” Kenny kissed her forehead before getting up. “You should go get settled in your locker room now. I’ll see you later tonight.” She nodded before making her way over. He opened the door for her making sure she didn’t look too skeptical as she left. Veronica didn’t look back, but she could feel his stare until she turned the corner.

Sawyer was just enjoying the space of her locker room before the rumbling of her stomach disturbed her peace. She rolled her eyes, “I’m fucking starving” she said to no one. She grabbed her phone before she made her way to find catering. She was laughing at something Nova had said in the group chat when she heard her name being called. Sawyer saw Warhorse flailing his arms around and she groaned.

She made her way over to him. “Could you make it any more obvious that I’m here?” He laughed, “Well you must have lost your hearing. I called you at least ten times.” “Just got a lot of things on my mind-” “Is it a thing or is it SOMEONE?” He cut her off with suspicion. Sawyer squinted at him. “That is none of your concern, Jake.” She huffed, crossing her arms. “Oh? Then I guess you don’t want to know what I heard from your special someone then.” He put his hands in his pockets, waiting for her to lose her cool any moment.

She huffed, “Don’t do that to me. Tell me RIGHT. NOW.” He acted like he was thinking it over before finally spilling the beans, “Alright, so you know-how at the end of each show the roster goes out for drinks, well he’s planning to finally man up and talk to you there.”

Sawyer’s eyes widened, keeping her jaw from falling to the floor. Jake laughed at her expression, Sawyer reached up and smacked his shoulder. He was about to mockingly cry out in pain before she spoke up, “That settles it! I’m not going.” Sawyer began to walk away, “Dude comes on. You can’t just avoid him forever.”

“Yes, I can. I’ve done it for almost a year, I can still do it.”

“Well then don’t look behind you,” Jake said, stifling laughter. Sawyer, not even bothering to look, leaped to the nearest hiding spot...under the serving table. She brought her knees to her chest, trying to look out from behind the cloth. She looked around but didn’t see anyone. Only the intense fit of laughter coming from Jake. “You should’ve,” he stopped to catch his breath, “You should’ve seen your face.”

Sawyer exhaled, “You better be glad I don’t powerbomb you onto the damn chips.” Sawyer stomped away, grabbing an orange on the way out. “For what it’s worth Nova wasn’t here to record it!” Jake called out, still laughing.

Veronica had decided to wait by the entrance tunnels and talk to everyone who passed by. Most recognize her from her match with Sawyer and Nova. She found herself in deep conversation with one of her opponents tonight - Penelope Ford and her fiancé, Kip Sabian until Nova and Sawyer came up from behind them. They began to make their way to ringside.

The opener match was over, and in just a matter of time - Warhorse will be facing Cody for his TNT Championship. Nova made sure to have her camera out and they all cheered loudly for their friend. There were many times where he was so close to winning that title, everyone could feel it. Unfortunately, with a figure four from Cody - he tapped out causing the match to end. Warhorse went over to Nova, Sawyer, and Veronica in the crowd and hugged them before making his way back through the tunnel.

Matches passed the whole night, the same topic came up. “I can’t believe he lost” “Why did Silver and Reynolds come out?” “Matt Cardona?”

“Sawyer cheer up. Please.” Veronica pleaded, shaking Sawyer’s arm. “No! That was so dumb. His moment was stolen.” Veronica sighed, knowing how Sawyer was feeling, “I know. But I’m sure they're gonna bring him back one of these days.” Sawyer huffed, turning towards the ring. “I wonder what they’re setting up,” Nova said, taking a break from recording. Veronica inspected the whole set, “Something tells me Sawyer isn’t gonna be too happy.”

Sawyer looked around, confused. She didn’t understand what the two thought was so funny until she heard the iconic and very familiar, “I’m Better Than You. And You Know It.” Nova and Veronica soon started to giggle at Sawyer’s terrified expression. Soon MJF walked out with the one person Sawyer did NOT wanna see, Wardlow. Sawyer then tried to switch her seats to one of the ones in the back, but Nova pulled her back. “Just sit. He probably won’t even look this way.” Sawyer gave her friend a threatening look, before sinking into her seat, trying not to be noticed.

They watched as MJF gave his very intense speech, Sawyer stood up just to whisper in her friend’s ears, “He’s gotten so much better at this since we last saw him.” Veronica leaned over, “Not when he was making heart eyes at Nova.” Nova rolled her eyes as Sawyer and Veronica made kissing faces at her.

When Sawyer turned back to the very comedic moment happening in the ring, to see Michael looking directly at her. Veronica looked over at her friend and laughed, “You look like a deer in headlights!” Sawyer finally broke away from his gaze to give a death stare to her current nuisance.

The speech was finally over, Sawyer’s heart rate finally going back to normal. “Are you done being a pussy?” Nova asked. “Shut. Up.” Sawyer shot back.

Veronica laughed at her friends before speaking up, “C’mon, we gotta go get ready.”

Nova and Veronica were set for a tag team match against Penelope Ford and Britt Baker. It was after Dynamite, and only a couple of people made their way to the bar early. Sawyer had decided she would watch their match next to the EVP’s. She had exited the locker room before hearing a laugh down the hallway. It was Wardlow having a conversation with 10 from the Dark Order. Sawyer froze and slowly backed up into her room, trying not to make any noise. She was almost there until she ran into the frame of the door making her head bounce with a thud. “Ow!” Sawyer shouted, quickly covering her mouth right after.

Wardlow looked back, and a sly grin crept on his face. “You alright Sawyer?” he asked, trying to contain his laughter. She rubbed the spot on her forehead and gave a thumbs up. 10 looked in confusion, “Who is she?” he whispered. “I'll tell you later,” Wardlow mumbled. He just nodded as she made her way back into her room. Wardlow let out a low breath before continuing his conversation, but in the back of his mind he still wanted to talk to Sawyer - he just had to find out how.

Nova was talking back and forth with Sawyer on the phone. “What do you mean you’re staying in your locker room?” Nova whispered-shouted. She rolled her eyes before hanging up. “Is she coming?” Veronica had only overheard so much. “No. Turns out she made a complete fool out of herself in front of Michael again.” They knew they would have to hear her complain later, but their main focus was on their match for now. They walked over to the face tunnel and made their entrance. Britt Baker and Penelope Ford came out shortly after not wasting any time to get started.

The match was an intense 10 minutes. It seemed to go by so fast because before they knew it Nova was in the lockjaw and had to tap out. Veronica helped Nova roll out, and back through the tunnel meeting a pleased Elite. “That wasn’t half bad; great job!” Nick complimented. Veronica smiled and Nova thanked them, before making their way to Sawyer’s locker room. She was pacing around the room in her gear. Veronica knocked before letting Nova and herself in. “Is it clear? Is he out there?” Sawyer asked. “We didn’t see him. Maybe he left to go to the bar.” Nova added. Veronica nodded which made Sawyer sigh with relief. “Alright. I’m going out. Wish me luck.”

Sawyer tied her boot and stood at the face tunnel. She seemed to push Wardlow to the back of her mind, and not let him affect the way she would wrestle tonight. Her entrance music played and she made her way out. A familiar voice started booing her, and she looked over and saw MJF. She almost rolled her eyes until she saw a smirking Wardlow behind him. She nearly broke her neck trying to make sure that was him in the front row. Dani Jordyn’s entrance music broke her back to reality. The bell finally rang and they began to lock up. After a lot of back and forth, action Sawyer hooked up Jordyn for the Canadian Destroyer. 1… 2… 3. Sawyer’s arm was raised, and she couldn’t help but look in Wardlow’s direction. A pleased smile appeared on his face as he bit his lip trying to stay in character. MJF just rolled his eyes as he left his seat to go backstage, with Wardlow following him.

Sawyer walked back up the stage, commentary acknowledging the match she had also won the previous night. As soon as she was in the tunnel, she was met with Veronica and Nova, squealing and congratulating her. “Great job out there Sawyer!” Tony Khan said from his headset. “We have got to have Kenny search for talent more often. You’re incredible.” Matt chimed. “Thank you, that means so much,” Sawyer said, trying to contain a giant grin.

Veronica and Nova led her away, walking towards the dressing rooms so they could get ready. Nova rushed inside, knowing she would need more time. Veronica turned to Sawyer before they went to their separate rooms, “Whatcha gonna wear?” Sawyer shrugged, “Jeans and a t-shirt.”

“No, you are not!” “But it’s my-” “Nope! No Jeff Hardy shirts for ONE. NIGHT. Please?” Sawyer groaned at those words, “Fine! But that means no red carpet dress for you either!”

Veronica giggled, the two going into their respective dressing rooms to get ready.

Time Skip

Sawyer sat outside in the parking lot, waiting for Nova and Veronica to finish getting ready, like usual. She took out her phone, snapping pics of her outfit. A merlot satin tank top tucked into her dark brown ribbed pants and finished with a black belt and matching heels. Veronica finally walked out, and the two started hyping each other up. Veronica looked glamorous in her one strapped black dress, a cutout at the stomach with nude pumps.

“I didn’t know you had THIS in your closet,” Veronica said, jokingly checking out Sawyer. “Okay but you,” Sawyer said, twirling Veronica, “When did you get the money to buy this?” Veronica ignored the question “Kenny definitely didn’t leave it as a gift in my dressing room.” She thought to herself.

“Where’s the party at bitches?” Nova called out, her friends cheering. “The life of the party has arrived!” Sawyer whooped. “And in a stunning outfit.” Veronica chimed it.

Of course, Nova being the most extravagant of the trio, had the most extravagant outfit. A lilac two-piece skirt set, with sparkles and straps all over, matched with the most gorgeous pair of five-inch heels. “Sawyer, are you still driving?” Veronica asked, dragging her bag towards the trunk. “Yes, and I won’t drink too much so I can still drive back.” “Then can we go now, I’ve been waiting for this.” Nova chimed in, dancing and trying to get the others to join. “Fine fine! Just get in the car so we aren’t the last ones.” Veronica said, walking up to the passengers' seat.

They all climbed in the car, Sawyer starting it and pulling out of the parking lot, their first night at Daily’s place complete.

The bar was only a couple of minutes away from the arena. They pulled into a parking spot and then got out. They showed the guy at the front their ID and made their way to where the rest of the roster was. They found a spot in the back and sat down for a minute. “I need a drink. ASAP,” Sawyer said as she looked around the room. “Three drinks coming right up.” Veronica chirped. She made her way through the crowd and to one of the bartenders. “Two Martinis and one Margarit please, no lime.” he began to pour her drinks when a familiar person sat next to her. “I didn’t think you were one to drink,” Kenny said, making her turn her head. “Sometimes. It just depends on the occasion.” she laughed. Kenny asked for a beer and then took a sip. He started to speak up before Veronica was handed her drinks and began to get off the stool almost tripping. He caught her before she could. “Where are you going?” Kenny asked, a bit disappointed. She wiped her hands and grabbed the two drinks from off the table, and left one sitting. “I have to give these to Sawyer and Nova, but I’ll be back,” she promised.

Nova and Sawyer were talking about their matches from the night when Veronica came with the drinks. “You do know we see everything,” Nova said with her arms crossed. Sawyer took her drink and took a huge sip. “It won’t belong. I just want to talk to him, and then I’ll come back and spend the rest of the night with you guys.” Veronica lied. “You better. Or we will drag you back to the hotel.” Nova said. Veronica rolled her eyes before going back with Kenny. “She is already ditching us for a man on the first day.” Sawyer complained. “He better be worth it.” Nova said as she sipped her drink for the first time. “Hey do you two want to play a game with us?” Trent from Best Friends had come up to them and asked. They looked over and saw Chuck Taylor leaning against the wall waiting for an answer. “Sure?” “Why not.” They said in unison. Trent led them over to the pool table and began to set it up.

On the other side of the bar was a smiling Veronica and half wasted Kenny Omega. “Why don’t we get out of here? It isn’t as fun as this place I know down the street.” Kenny whispered in her ear. They were sitting at two of the stools in the bar, his arm resting over her shoulders. She looked around and saw Nova and Sawyer playing a game of pool with Trent and Chuck Taylor. “They’ll be fine. If they get mad at you just tell them it was my idea.” he stood off his barstool and held his hand out for her to jump off hers. “Where exactly is this place Kenny…” she questioned him as he guided her to the doors of the bar. He smirked and let out a low chuckle, “You’ll see.”

“There is no way you have never played pool before,” Chuck said to Sawyer as she hit another ball in. The four were having fun hanging out for the first time. It was perfect… too perfect. As Sawyer took a swig at her drink she looked around for Veronica seeing Wardlow took her spot. She squinted a bit and also saw Lexy Nair rubbing her hand up and down his arm.

A sting of jealousy overcame her. Trent seemed to notice as he made his way over. “Are you two a thing?” he asked. Sawyer tried to think of the right words to say, “Not really; we used to be.” he nodded understanding. “Forget about him. Tonight just let loose, get wasted.” Trent took what was left of his drink and poured it into her glass. She looked over at Wardlow and Lexy one more time to see her twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Fuck it,” she said and leaned her head back to gulp the drink down. Trent smiled. “I’ll buy you another drink if you beat me.” he challenged. Sawyer tilted her head while she thought it over, “Challenge accepted.”

Fast Forward to Later in the Night

It was currently midnight. Most of the roster had gone home earlier, but a few still stuck around. Lots just chatted with their co-workers, staying close not wanting to cause a scene; Sawyer on the other hand was full-on drunk dancing on top of the pool table. Nova along with her. Technically, she wasn’t as drunk as Sawyer, but she wasn’t about to let her best friend make a fool out of herself alone. They swayed to a song they didn’t even know until they got dizzy and almost fell over. Wardlow sat in the same spot of the bar all night long. Ever since, Lexy had finally stopped bugging him a while ago. She was pretty, but he didn’t want her. The girl he wanted was poorly break dancing on top of a table and he couldn’t help but watch, hell everyone's attention was on her.

“He’s looking at you again.” Nova whispered in Sawyer’s ear. She turned around and was met with Michael’s stare. Sawyer flipped her hair over her shoulder and took one more sip before jumping from the table. Nova looked at her like she had grown a second head, “What the hell are you doing?!” “I’m going to see what he wants.” Nova was surprised. She was actually about to face her problem instead of running from them, she smiled in satisfaction before returning to Trent and Chuck at a booth.

Wardlow saw Sawyer approaching him making him sit up a little bit straighter. “W-why have you been watching me all night like a creep?” Her words slurred. He looked over and rolled his eyes, “She was full mode drunk right now and that was the only reason she came up to him.“

“Why have you been avoiding me all day?”

“I asked you first.”

Michael tensed. He thought over his words, “I don’t know. I was waiting for you to come over and say something...say anything-” She huffed, “You looked like you had enough company.” His brows twisted in confusion before suddenly realizing she was talking about Lexy earlier. He began to laugh as she looked at him with disgust. “You could just say you were jealous, love.” She opened her mouth to say something but decided against it, he was right. Wardlow cleared his throat, “You need to get home. Here take my uber to your hotel.” he offered. Shortly, Trent and Chuck came over carrying a sleeping Nova. “She passed out mid-conversation,” Chuck explained as she began to snore. Wardlow and Sawyer chuckled. “Their ride is outside already. Can you carry her out safely?” He asked as he made eye contact with Sawyer. Trent and Chuck nodded as they began to exit the bar. Sawyer began to follow before she was pulled back by Wardlow. “I just wanted to say… congratulations on finally getting the recognition you deserve.” He shifted around uncomfortably. “Thank you for putting a good word for us to the EVP’s and Tony.” “Without Wardlow would we really be in AEW?” Sawyer asked herself. “That was nothing, thank me when you win that AEW Women’s Championship.” He winked at her then gave her a soft smile. “Goodnight Sawyer.” He began to lean in as he was going in for a kiss, before pulling away and walking out the bar leaving her there dumbfounded. She drunkenly exited, and into the car Trent and Chuck were standing by. “Aren’t there supposed to be three of you?” Chuck asked confused. Sawyer thought about it before realizing “Oh shit- where's Veronica?” She pulled her phone out to text her. “She probably is waiting for you guys back at the hotel.” Trent shrugged. “I had a lot of fun tonight, we hope to see you guys back here next week.” Chuck added before shutting the door. Sawyer smiled to herself, before leaning her head on Nova’s shoulder and imagining having this type of life everyday.

“Shit.” Veronica cursed as she dropped her key card. Her night with Kenny went a whole different route than she was expecting. It was currently 3 in the morning, and she was sure Nova and Sawyer were fast asleep. She opened the door and slowly put down her purse to take off her shoes. A shuffle made Veronica freeze as a lamp turnt on, and Nova and Sawyer sat on the edge of her bed. “AHH!” Veronica screamed, causing her to jump. “You better explain RIGHT NOW.” Nova said annoyed while Sawyer got comfortable. Veronica groaned before sitting next to them.

“Well, it all started when….”

Thanks for reading Eternity - Chapter 2!! Like and reblogs are appreciated!

[kirstinmaldonado]

CHAPTER TWELVE 2.0

I started the last two chapters, happy to have something of substance to talk about, me being at home, improvements I was seeing, maybe even some rightful disappointment at some people’s lack of care in their actions…but like clockwork the beginning of the week brought in new developments and my mind drifted focus. My fingers lost the spark to write about feel-good situations when the chaos in the world seemed to extinguish the flame.

I was in Texas just two weeks ago but it honestly feels like forever, as if time is confused on what pace its on. The USA seems to be confused as well.

Theme parks across the nation are opening up. Some flights are back to full capacity. The world seems caught on a pendulum of thought: “Are we good enough to pretend and pass like we can go back to normal?”

Meanwhile, people are still getting sick. People are still dying. Protests are still happening, although it apparently doesn’t serve the media to still be airing that. Justice has still not been served for those we’ve lost: Breonna Taylor, Vanessa Guillen, Elijah McClain, and so many more. The media and internet is ablaze with people ridiculing, attacking, or making fun of each other, on top of everything going on.

I wonder if I’m a part of that sometimes. While I still think protesting for “bar lives” is unfathomable and tone deaf, while it was so easy to ridicule because it was so insanely insensitive to compare to the BLM movement, did I help to further a narrative full of spite? Did I egg on anger and divisiveness, did I unintentionally help create arguments online? Did I give a platform that I don’t agree with more attention by calling attention to it?

I’m all for the hard but important conversations. I love them, to be honest. My family and I had many thought-provoking conversations when I was home, about what they’ve experienced with racism, about our opinions on all sides. It was wonderful to expand our ways of thinking using past and present! I think we all walked away with more rounded backing to our opinions, me included, and I’m thankful to have a family that can be so open and willing to discuss.

Yet, those conversations can’t be condensed into however many characters can fit in to a tweet. The art of negotiating is not all about winning, it’s also about empathizing. It’s about explaining and getting the opponent to understand your side and school of thinking; if you just tear them apart for their lack of understanding or different opinion, how can they ever fully understand or want to, especially if you are the one trying to teach them something not in their wheelhouse?

Racism, of course, is non-negotiable.

Everything else, and it’s a lot, that we have encountered in the last few weeks (mainly dealing with COVID) feels like it’s cumulatively driven us to a breaking point, to a point where I don’t really feel like I live in the “United” States of America. I feel like we are now all pitted against each other, immediate to defend our point, and jumping to 10 because honestly we are tired of the bullshit.

I get it. I do. But in the last few days while I’ve watched coronavirus cases develop, “Karens” making a fool of themselves in public places and endangering people’s lives with their sense of entitlement, while watching Hamilton for the first time and seeing good and bad critiques, Kanye running for president, while I’ve cried over Vanessa and what happened to her only to have someone try to belittle my reaction compared to others we’ve lost, I realized something.

Chaos. All chaos.

How can we make real change when we are all just screaming? How can we move mountains when we are pushing from two opposing sides? And while we have made progress, will we have the sensibility to keep with it or will our boiling frustrations overrule and distract us from our end goal, lasting and transformative change for the betterment of BIPOCs and everyone?

I’m not hating on our progress. And I’m not vilifying people’s reactions to things not in your school of thought, albeit insanely frustrating things. I’ve been there and am there. The amount of Facebook posts I’ve written novels for, the shock I feel on a daily basis for some people, is all still there. Yet, my sadness for this world and how to heal it has crept in and bated me.

What can “I” do to make a difference?

Hating and bashing things is our new normal, our humor has become intertwined with it so much that we ridicule and make jokes out of everything. Click-bait headlines only stoke the flames. Coronavirus is still surging every day, and you know what, some people can’t pretend to go back to “normal” amongst it all.

The entertainment business, for example, won’t be back up and running for… who knows? I wouldn’t be surprised if Broadway was closed for longer than a year. We rescheduled our tour in hopes that we would be able to go, but with the way things are looking I can’t help but feel distressed about the outlook for the entertainment industry/shows all around. So many people’s “normal” won’t come back at all until we get a headway on this virus, and it’s gonna take us all coming together for that to work as well. We have to truly be THE UNITED states of america.

As a side-note, Pentatonix has never been this stationary since we started…and that’s bittersweet too. Never take anything for granted, guys.

So while I dissolved into a puddle over Vanessa and how I don’t even know how to help mediate the world anymore, with people at each others throats literally and figuratively all the time, with good people and bad people on every side, I returned to a very old school of thought for myself. 

Be kind. 

What can “I” do every day? 

Yes, use my platform as a strong voice of advocacy, try to filter through everything to make sure I’m posting facts and not scare-mongering or leading anyone astray from what they should be seeing.

I’ve protested. Signed petitions. Written emails. I tried to raise awareness and bring everyone along with me on my journey as I learned, which I thought was helpful.

But I forgot about the most important thing, the thing that’s been ingrained in my head since I was a child for better for worse, the one thing that even though practiced vehemently, never always comes back guaranteed.

Be kind.

I lost that somewhere along the way, a bit. I could feel my soul hardening at how cruel some people can be, I felt how easy it was to smite and bash people’s names who have done far worse. I felt my eyes cloud with hate.

For a long time I thought the battle was human vs earth and I was always so sad to see how easily we destroyed such a precious gift. 

Now I know at its core that the real problem is human vs human: how to one up each other, how to be more successful, how to win, how to be MORE all the time. That feeling has been slowly poisoning us and our empathy and compassion towards others. That feeling is not about bettering oneself, it’s about greed and it spreads like cancer. 

For a long time, I didn’t want to “be kind” like a Disney princess anymore. I was tired of trying to use kindness as a shield as if people’s actions did not hurt me. I was mad at my kindness for blinding me and letting me get hurt. I thought the phrase “kill them with kindness” was stupid, because I was the one that kept getting hurt.

But my kindness did not do that to me. I did not do that to me.

People did. Hurt people. Confused people. People that had problems within themselves that were in no way a reflection of me. People with opposing views. Those people are not my fault. Those people don’t get to have their anger bleed in to my life, they don’t get to poison my disposition with their greed and animosity.

What can I do?

Every day, I can make a point to not be divisive. To not so easily make fun of things, belittle, call names, etc.

I can tone down my “complaining” online. I can not get so upset and rush to attack people that would be hard to get my point across to anyway online, so I don’t work myself up for hours about one internet troll when I could be doing other more important things. Why lose sanity over someone only wanting to argue? Why revert to the name bashing, why invite more stress and anger in to my life, even though there’s enough anyway with what’s going on in the world?

As I uncovered more history, had more awakenings and understandings, and dealt with my own personal stresses, I felt my strength oscillating and now I know why. I was so hardened with hate and disbelief, I felt like a fool living in a world that said it was something else. And...I left my best ally behind in my own rush for MORE.

Kindness. 

Empathy. Understanding. Patience.

So for July, I’ve decided to take care of myself a little more. Take care of others. Make sure that I am not contributing to anyone’s pain, and only being an ally to amplify voices that need to be heard. 

There’s a kinder way to say everything. There’s a kinder way to live. Amongst all this chaos, maybe if we were all a bit kinder, we could ease the waves of tension and calm the storm. Maybe if we could see past ourselves, we could make a lasting change for us all.

I changed my bio the other day. We must be like the sunflowers, pulling toxicity from the ground and air. Nature’s helper. I said I would be like that.

They don’t contribute anything negative, they just stand tall and strong, a mediating force in a world that needs purifying. 

So, I will armor myself with my strength, knowledge, and kindness. 

And see about tomorrow. 

[mattzerella-sticks]

Supernatural Crack🩹tober

Day 11 - American Pie

           Cas worries over how he will broach the subject he completely misses when Sam and Dean arrive. Brothers striding through the front door, bickering. Arguing over their latest hunt, or maybe a passing distraction. Dean picking at it like a nasty scab until the two sniped at each other in a bloody mess. He barely followed their voices, still wrapping over the scene he happened upon in the kitchen hours ago. Mortified. At both what he saw and being the one to tell Dean.

           He won’t be happy.

           Dean claps him on the shoulder startling him from his thoughts. “Cas, man,” he says, frowning. Studying his expression. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

           “I’ve seen something all right…” As Dean’s brows furrowed together, Cas sighed. Gestures towards the nearby chairs. “There’s things we need to discuss.”

           Sam easily sinks into the seat, frowning. Listening for what Cas will say. Dean is a different issue. He hovers near the chair, looking like he might sit than aborting the action all together. Nerves clearly on display, hands wringing themselves into an angry, blotchy redness. “You’re finally hitting the trails, then,” he surmises, ruefully chuckling. Gaze dropped, avoiding Cas’s eyes. “Well… I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

           Cas blinks at him. “What?”

           “Just… thanks, I guess, for sticking around as long as you did,” he shrugs, lips quivering in a phony smile, “I… you probably didn’t have to, but –“

           “Dean, what are you talking about?”

           Dean glances at him, “This… isn’t you giving us the talk? The… the ‘I’ve found something better and am going to pursue it’ talk?”

           “What? No,” he says, reaching out and squeezing Dean’s clasped hands. “Never, Dean I… I’m not going anywhere. Except, maybe therapy… or to the woods, so I can bang my head against a tree for a few hours.” They concernedly stare, drawing a tired sigh from Cas. “Sit down, Dean, so I can explain myself.”

           While Dean follows Cas’s command, Sam leans on the map table. “What’s going on Cas?” he asks, “Why do you want therapy or a – or a tree?”

           “And where’s Jack?” Dean asks, looking about the room, “Kid was all antsy over the phone, asking when we’d be back. Figured he’d be waiting by the door.”

           There lies the crux of his problems. “Jack is…” he starts, edging around the truth. Not willing to dive in yet, toeing the waters of this chilling tale. “He’s grounded for the foreseeable future.”

           “Grounded?” Dean snorts, “Is that what this is about? Grounding’s normal, Cas.”

           “Not for what he did.”

           Sam takes this a fraction more seriously than his brother. “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

           Cas nods. Lips pursed, keeping the floodgates tight so a drop wouldn’t escape before the appropriate time. With the brothers here, it’s best he eases the locks. Share what he stumbled into. Then they can better understand his need for professional help and appreciate the grip on his sanity Cas maintained as long as he did.

           “Well… I was archiving some research materials that I uncovered for you, when you called the other day about your hunt,” Cas explains, fidgeting, thinking about how naïve and innocent he’d been hours earlier. “Biding my time until you returned. I’d already gone out for supplies, so you wouldn’t have to, and because I thought it was well deserved… I bought a pie –“

           “A pie?” Dean perks, grinning, “There’s pie? Why are we having this here when we could be talking about it over pie!”

           Cas grabs his arm as he rises, halting him. Eyes wide in fear, he shudders. “There’s no pie, Dean.”

           Dean’s expression flips, seriousness masking any other emotion. “No pie?” he parrots, “What do you mean no pie?” Then, “Did Jack eat the pie? Without me? …You were right to ground him for that, Cas!”

           “He wasn’t…” Cas mulls it over, wincing, “Eating wouldn’t be the right term. But, yes Jack’s punishment is about the pie.”

           “Cas,” Sam interrupts, “can you skip over the suspense and just… get to the point? What terrible thing could Jack have done with the pie?”

           Cas sighs, letting go of Dean so both hands could scrub across his face. “I walked in, and I saw – I saw Jack… standing there. His pants were… around his ankles, and he was –“ his voice hitches, cheeks aflame. Gaze focused on the map below, where a little island was bisected by the latitudinal plane. “He had stuck his… genitals… inside the pie.”

           At first Cas hadn’t know that’s what he walked in on. He caught sight of Jack’s pale ass, bouncing as he bent over the island and humped. Panting, moaning, oblivious of Cas’s disturbance. His skin crawled with every grunted curse. His voice, which left in the beginning, returned with a vengeance. Cas bellowed, shaking, “Jack! What are you doing?”

           Jack froze, and from the height of his shoulders and strength of his hiss, Cas realized the other boy orgasmed, too. Made obvious when Jack turned. Revealing the ruined and stained dessert, cherry filling everywhere. Dripping onto the tiled floors and staining Jack’s privates.

           “I… I made him throw it out, and then clean up the kitchen and – and – and now he’s in his room until I figure out what to do,” Cas sighed, tugging on his hair. Scalp burning from the force. “What do I do?”

           Sam and Dean gaped. Silence reigned. Neither looked comfortable or cognizant enough for a response. Exactly how Cas felt those few seconds when Jack spun around and his stuttered apology.

           But they recovered soon. Dean’s mask broke, anger surfacing. He flew out of his seat, slamming his fists down. “He fucked my pie!” Dean cries, “Who in their right mind fucks a pie?”

           “That’s what I asked,” Cas says, “You know what he told me? That he saw it in a movie! How ridiculous!”

           Sam hisses with a flinch. “Actually,” he says, “there’s one movie that… in it, a kid… does that with a pie.”

           “There is?” he scowls, “Where would he ever come across such a film?”

           Suddenly, Dean tenses. His dimples appearing for no reason. They fade a beat later, but the noticeable strangeness from Dean drew enough suspicion from Cas. Especially as he inches away from the table. “Who cares how he found it,” he says, indignation gratingly false to Cas’s ears, “let’s just punish him and make him never do this again!”

           He almost slips out. Almost.

           “Dean,” Cas calls. Dean freezes. “You wouldn’t happen to know how Jack saw this movie, would you?” Then, for good measure, he adds. “The truth, please. I’d hate to think how worse it’d be if you lied.”

           Sighing, Dean faces Cas. Guilt practically tattooed across his cherry-red cheeks. “We… might have stumbled across it, one night in the Dean Cave,” Dean admits, rubbing his neck. “And when that scene came on I – remembering only now, really – I might have said a few things that could, if you look at it the right way, could have made the kid curious enough to imitate what he saw… possibly.”

           Cas’s anger rockets so fiercely, he becomes numb. And in that state of unfeeling, Cas decides his punishment. “Okay,” he says, fingers steepled in front of him, “thank you for your honesty.”

           “Does that mean I’m off the hook?”

           “Not a chance in hell.” Cas stands, closing the distance between him and Dean. “You are going to Jack’s room, where you will not only explain why what he did was bad, but you will then give him the talk and apologize for egging him on.”

           “And that’s it?”

           “For the first part. When you’re done, let Jack know he’s grounded for a month – and so are you.”

           “Grounded?”

           “No hunts, no Internet access, no Sam,” Cas details, glaring at the younger Winchester. He nearly jumped into the fray, possibly defending Dean. Sam forfeits immediately. Bends under the pressure. Aware that in this situation there are no winners, just survivors. “The only things you will be allowed to do are eat and research. And if I hear you complain about that?” Dean and he are a breath apart, personal space trampled on. “Then the consequences will be severe. Any questions?”

           Dean struggles with words, green barely visible behind wide pupils. He licks his lips, roughly swallowing. “Can I still…” he waggles his brows suggestively, chuckling, “because I have to say… this is really hot, Cas.”

           “Dean!”

(Day 10 - PurGAYtory)

[c-ptsdrecovery]

Humiliation, negating, criticizing

These tactics are meant to undermine your self-esteem. The abuse is harsh and unrelenting in matters big and small.

Here are some examples:

Name-calling. They’ll blatantly call you “stupid,” “a loser,” or words too awful to repeat here.

Derogatory “pet names.” This is just more name-calling in not-so-subtle disguise. “My little knuckle dragger” or “My chubby pumpkin” aren’t terms of endearment.

Character assassination. This usually involves the word “always.” You’re always late, wrong, screwing up, disagreeable, and so on. Basically, they say you’re not a good person.

Yelling. Yelling, screaming, and swearing are meant to intimidate and make you feel small and inconsequential. It might be accompanied by fist-pounding or throwing things.

Patronizing. “Aw, sweetie, I know you try, but this is just beyond your understanding.”

Public embarrassment. They pick fights, expose your secrets, or make fun of your shortcomings in public.

Dismissiveness. You tell them about something that’s important to you and they say it’s nothing. Body language like eye-rolling, smirking, headshaking, and sighing help convey the same message.

“Joking.” The jokes might have a grain of truth to them or be a complete fabrication. Either way, they make you look foolish.

Sarcasm. Often just a dig in disguise. When you object, they claim to have been teasing and tell you to stop taking everything so seriously.

Insults of your appearance. They tell you, just before you go out, that your hair is ugly or your outfit is clownish.

Belittling your accomplishments. Your abuser might tell you that your achievements mean nothing, or they may even claim responsibility for your success. [Ignoring or refusing to celebrate your accomplishments may also be emotionally abusive/neglectful in a close relationship.]

Put-downs of your interests. They might tell you that your hobby is a childish waste of time or you’re out of your league when you play sports. Really, it’s that they’d rather you not participate in activities without them [or they’re jealous of your skill in this or some other area they don’t excel in].

Pushing your buttons. Once your abuser knows about something that annoys you, they’ll bring it up or do it every chance they get.

Control and shame

Trying to make you feel ashamed of your inadequacies is just another path to power. [These abusive behaviors can be harder to recognize in parents than in romantic partners, as parents generally exert some level of healthy control over young children’s lives. The issue is then with the degree of control, the age of the child, and the extent of the trauma caused.]

Tools of the shame and control game include:

Threats. Telling you they’ll take the kids and disappear, or saying “There’s no telling what I might do.” [From parents, threats that they’ll take your belongings or seriously and unjustly punish you]

Monitoring your whereabouts. They want to know where you are all the time and insist that you respond to calls or texts immediately. They might show up just to see if you’re where you’re supposed to be.

Digital spying. They might check your internet history, emails, texts, and call log. They might even demand your passwords.

Unilateral decision-making. They might close a joint bank account, cancel your doctor’s appointment, or speak with your boss without asking.

Financial control. They might keep bank accounts in their name only and make you ask for money. You might be expected to account for every penny you spend.

Lecturing. Belaboring your errors with long monologues makes it clear they think you’re beneath them.

Direct orders. From “Get my dinner on the table now” to “Stop taking the pill,” orders are expected to be followed despite your plans to the contrary.

Outbursts. You were told to cancel that outing with your friend or put the car in the garage, but didn’t, so now you have to put up with a red-faced tirade about how uncooperative you are.

Treating you like a child. They tell you what to wear, what and how much to eat, or which friends you can see.

Feigned helplessness. They may say they don’t know how to do something. Sometimes it’s easier to do it yourself than to explain it. They know this and take advantage of it.

Unpredictability. They’ll explode with rage out of nowhere, suddenly shower you with affection, or become dark and moody at the drop of a hat to keep you walking on eggshells.

They walk out. In a social situation, stomping out of the room leaves you holding the bag. At home, it’s a tool to keep the problem unresolved.

Using others. Abusers may tell you that “everybody” thinks you’re crazy or “they all say” you’re wrong.

Accusing, blaming, and denial

This behavior comes from an abuser’s insecurities. They want to create a hierarchy in which they’re at the top and you’re at the bottom.

Here are some examples:

Jealousy. They accuse you of flirting or cheating on them.

Turning the tables. They say you cause their rage and control issues by being such a pain.

Denying something you know is true. An abuser will deny that an argument or even an agreement took place. This is called gaslighting. It’s meant to make you question your own memory and sanity.

Using guilt. They might say something like, “You owe me this. Look at all I’ve done for you,” in an attempt to get their way.

Goading then blaming. Abusers know just how to upset you. But once the trouble starts, it’s your fault for creating it.

Denying their abuse. When you complain about their attacks, abusers will deny it, seemingly bewildered at the very thought of it.

Accusing you of abuse. They say you’re the one who has anger and control issues and they’re the helpless victim.

Trivializing. When you want to talk about your hurt feelings, they accuse you of overreacting and making mountains out of molehills.

Saying you have no sense of humor. Abusers make personal jokes about you. If you object, they’ll tell you to lighten up.

Blaming you for their problems. Whatever’s wrong in their life is all your fault. You’re not supportive enough, didn’t do enough, or stuck your nose where it didn’t belong.

Destroying and denying. They might crack your cell phone screen or “lose” your car keys, then deny it. [They also break your belongings when “in a rage” and “out of control”... and yet prove they ARE in control by never breaking THEIR belongings in similar circumstances.]

Emotional neglect and isolation

Abusers tend to place their own emotional needs ahead of yours. Many abusers will try to come between you and people who are supportive of you to make you more dependent on them.

They do this by:

Demanding respect. No perceived slight will go unpunished, and you’re expected to defer to them. But it’s a one-way street.

Shutting down communication. They’ll ignore your attempts at conversation in person, by text, or by phone.

Dehumanizing you. They’ll look away when you’re talking or stare at something else when they speak to you.

Keeping you from socializing. Whenever you have plans to go out, they come up with a distraction or beg you not to go.

Trying to come between you and your family. They’ll tell family members that you don’t want to see them or make excuses why you can’t attend family functions.

Withholding affection. They won’t touch you, not even to hold your hand or pat you on the shoulder. They may refuse sexual relations to punish you or to get you to do something.

Tuning you out. They’ll wave you off, change the subject, or just plain ignore you when you want to talk about your relationship.

Actively working to turn others against you. They’ll tell co-workers, friends, and even your family that you’re unstable and prone to hysterics.

Calling you needy. When you’re really down and out and reach out for support, they’ll tell you you’re too needy or the world can’t stop turning for your little problems.

Interrupting. You’re on the phone or texting and they get in your face to let you know your attention should be on them.

Indifference. They see you hurt or crying and do nothing.

Disputing your feelings. Whatever you feel, they’ll say you’re wrong to feel that way or that’s not really what you feel at all.

Codependence

A codependent relationship is when everything you do is in reaction to your abuser’s behavior. And they need you just as much to boost their own self-esteem. You’ve forgotten how to be any other way. It’s a vicious circle of unhealthy behavior. [It is generally caused by poor boundaries. The good news is that you can LEARN to create healthy boundaries!]

You might be codependent if you:

are unhappy in the relationship, but fear alternatives

consistently neglect your own needs for the sake of theirs

ditch friends and sideline your family to please your partner

frequently seek out your partner’s approval

critique yourself through your abuser’s eyes, ignoring your own instincts

make a lot of sacrifices to please the other person, but it’s not reciprocated

would rather live in the current state of chaos than be alone

bite your tongue and repress your feelings to keep the peace

feel responsible and take the blame for something they did

defend your abuser when others point out what’s happening

try to “rescue” them from themselves

feel guilty when you stand up for yourself

think you deserve this treatment

believe that nobody else could ever want to be with you

change your behavior in response to guilt; [for example,] your abuser says, “I can’t live without you,” so you stay

[lennydaisy]

EPIPHANY SERIES // OUTER BANKS // CHAPTER THREE.

(n.) a moment when you suddenly feel that you understand. or suddenly become conscious of something that is very important to you.

              “Care to seize the day, my friend?”

Outer Banks                                                                                                                  Season 1-                                                                                                                      FEM OC! and ?

Here’s the link to Chapter Two in case you haven’t read it already <3 Check it out!!

Babysitting isn't for everybody. And at the beginning, I didn't think I was for me either. They say every child is different and this job has proved that couldn't be more true. Call it delusion, but I thought babysitting would be the easiest job on the planet.  Getting paid to look after someone's kid for a few hours whilst they run for the hills for a sliver of free time.  Sounds easy enough right?

Wrong!

You need to have thick skin when it comes to babysitting. No matter how much the parents reassure and praise their kid for being a literal angel on earth. That said angel will call you a do-do head at least once whilst simultaneously having a tantrum because you told them no, despite how much they promised that their parents allow them to climb onto of the refrigerator.

The first time I babysat it was actually a baby I was watching. The mom wanted to get out of the house and away from the responsibility of her 6-month-old. She had graciously written up any and every scenario that could play out in the few hours she was gone. And I was feeling confident. Until I wasn't.

They wouldn't stop crying. And their special lamb, that the board told me to give to the baby when they were upset, ran out of batteries, and I couldn't find new ones anywhere.

They refused to eat, just spitting the pureed food back in my face. They also wouldn't keep their socks on and that was the last straw for my sanity. I understood now why the mom had been quick to run out the door.

I ended up calling Kie, begging for her to come and help. I don't know how she understood a word I said, I was practically hyperventilating over the line, staring at the baby who was crawling around in a fit of rage.

Kie was truly a godsend. She somehow fed the baby and managed to get them to sleep before the mom came back. It did result in me splitting my first wage with Kie, but I wasn't complaining, I was just happy that I made it out of that house with just a headache and not an external crisis. Though that did come later.

I've babysat an 8-year-old boy, who ran away from me in the park. I did find him eventually. After giving myself a hairline fracture in my right wrist from climbing the tree he got stuck in.

I've babysat animals before. That wasn't part of my non-existing contract, but the way they spoke about their pets was very humanlike. It didn't end well for me, it never does. It resulted in me holding four leashes of four overly excited Komodo Dragons. Just kidding. The refused to move and lacked any type of emotion.

'I took you guys to the beach, be grateful.'

Now, I know what you're thinking, Komodo Dragons? Aren't those Illegal to have as pets? The answer to that question is yes! But I didn't know that. Just imagine Shoupe's face when he saw me practically dragging not one, but four, exotic animals across the boneyard. It looked suspicious is all I'm going to say.

Turns out the two guys who asked me to babysit their dragons for them we're smugglers who purchased and sold exotic animals. Not good. Apparently, they were already under the police departments radar and the pair planned on legging it to the in-country hoping to change and clear their names.

That worked out well for them, I think? Nothing else was really mentioned of it after my dad collected me from the police station. They're still on the radar, I hope. If not then there are two brawny men out there that could come and kill me in my sleep for ruining their very illegal business. Look, If you are up to some suspect things, my dumbass is the last person you'd want to be involved. I will unironically get you caught.

That's how Ward Cameron had heard about my very pristine babysitting service. Noticing the little bit of trouble that always seemed to shadow me, he offered to hire me permanently as his youngest daughter's babysitter.

That was three years ago, and here I am still babysitting Wheezie.

"This is stupid," Wheezie complains, trudging behind me, pushing forward the shopping cart filled with lost items that we found on the beach.

Since there is no internet in Kookland, in other words, Wheezie's heart line is currently in critical care. I decided to venture outdoors with her for a change. Instead of just sitting around her three-storey clubhouse or in her four-acre backyard, I thought it would be nice to comb the beach of any debris that the hurricane brought along.  

There was a lot of personal items that washed up on the beach too. Wallets, bags, photographs, books, clothes, wine bottles, footballs, toys, you get the gist. Most of them were ruined, either waterlogged or just completely useless. However, somethings just needed a good clean, and that's what we are going to spend our day doing. There is no way of telling what belongs to who, so we'll just turn them into the lost and found and hope they'll check there if it was important enough to them.

Our two trollies worth didn't even make a dent in the rubble that litters the beach, but it was a start. Say hello to a summer of hard labour.

"There was a hurricane Wheezie, have some sympathy" I roll my eyes at the girl who was less than thrilled about today's plans.

"I do have sympathy," she claims defensively, "It's just pointless.  No one's gonna come looking for this junk," eyes flickering through the findings in her trolley.

What we found isn't pointless. They belong to someone. I think about it the same way I did as a kid when I wanted every single teddy bear in my bed at night so none got left out, so I didn't hurt their feelings. A ragged old soccer ball might look worse for wear, but it has a home and I going to get it back there.

"It's not junk," I object, stopping momentarily, waiting for the stroppy pre-teen to catch up. "Say you lost your phone and someone found it, and returned it too you. You wouldn't be grateful?" I theorize in terms that I know she would understand.

"My dad would just get me a new one," she shrugs nonchalantly, not missing a beat.

"Well, not everyone's fortunate that way," I remind her, blinking suddenly as the sun shines on something reflective in the cart, blinding me.

Reaching towards the sparkling object, I realise that it appears to be quite expensive. It's a glass ashtray. Rubbing the damp sand off the surface, my thumb feels an engraving. In swirly calligraphy, reads the initials:

'S.G'

"I'm sorry," Wheezie apologizes, wincing when she heard my comment, "I didn't think-"

"-It's okay," I smile at the girl. It's not like I don't understand my current life situation. It's pretty shitty, I know, but I live with it. I was born a Pogue for a reason. I wasn't supposed to be born with a silver spoon in my mouth, though that doesn't mean I hate those who are. They have it easier than me and my family, sure, but that's just how it is in the Outer Banks. Some are more fortunate than others. It does, however, leave a sour taste in my mouth that Kook parents will just throw money at there children to get them to shut up, but that's just a Pogue's opinion.

The generators haven't kicked in yet, seeing as though the Camerons security code gate is bouncing loosely against its unlocked hinges. Holding the gate open for Wheezie to push by with her cart, I catch a glimpse of their usually perfectly mowed lawn. Instead, I see plenty of fallen trees and scattered branches, broken plant pots, and ruined garden monuments. It’s not a good look, especially for the high-class Camerons.

That just goes to show, hurricane's don't show mercy on anyone, Kook or not.

As a wise man once said; 'Thanks Agatha, ya batch.'

Parking our carts beside the Cameron's private pool, away from the workers who are just trying to do their jobs. I turn to Wheezie saying, "You go get some soapy water and gloves and I'll empty the carts."

Nodding her head, she rushes into her house, leaving me slightly confused, 'Where did the sudden enthusiasm come from?'

Emptying the carts, I lay out what needs to be cleaned the most: from a bronze candlestick holder to a old, yet unique, shoe buckle, and everything in between. And of course, the ashtray. 

Holding it gently in my palms, legs crossed against the cold slabs, I couldn't help but feel hypnotised by the intricate marks that littered the tray. It truly was a lost treasure.

"I'll take that," announces a voice from behind my hunched figure, jumping when a hand snatches the tray from my grip.

Coming to my feet, I'm ready to snatch the tray back from the sudden thief, but I stop when I realise who it is. Why am I not surprised, I am on their turf.

If it isn't dumb, dumber and dumbest.

Throwing the delicate glass from hand to hand, Rafe lets out a low whistle, "Check the weight on that," he tosses it to Kelce who was standing tall behind him. Kelce nods his head in approval, of course agreeing with what Rafe has to say.

"Who did you steal that from Pogue?" Rafe smirks thinking he has me sussed out. Not wanting to give the satisfaction that him lobbing around the ashtray is causing me heart amputations, I stare him in the eye, "I didn't steal it. I found it."

"You did, did you," he utters pushing past me, his head low with a sick smile, taking in the view of the tressures that I had laid out, "And what about all this? Did you just find that too?"

I say nothing. He knows the answer to that question. I already told him. I don't need to explain myself, especially not to Rafe Cameron.

His eyes flicker over Wheezie and I's findings, taking in each and everyone with a curious eye,  before he cracked, "Bunch of junk," kicking some of the items into the pool.

All I could do was stare. Stare as someone's possessions sunk to the bottom of the marble pool, clashing and crumbling at the foot of Rafe. I fell sick.

His friend just laughs, egging him on. Kelce patting him proudly on the back, handing him back the ashtray. Rafe turns to face me, that smirk never leaving his face, but I can't look at him. I refuse to.

"-Hey Rafe, dad's looking for you," a soft voice breaks the harsh glare that Rafe was sending my way. Nodding his head at the voice, he holds the ashtray out for me to take.

It was too good to be true.

Gullible enough, I reach out for it, only to have it slip through my fingertips. Unable to hear the shattering of the glass as it hits the red slab, my brain refuses to accept fate as I stare down at the shards.

Laughing lightly, I bite my lip, nodding my head understandingly, not expecting anything less from Rafe. A sharp grip on my wrist snaps up my damp eyes, "See you later, Pogue," he hisses in my numb ear, before marching away as though nothing happened.

Sensing a presence, I meet eyes with the 3rd and final member of Rafe's crowd.

Topper.

Smiling lopsidedly at the well put together boy who hasn't moved or spoken since showing up, "Nice friends you've got there Topper," I say monotoned, watching as the boy snaps out of his trance-like state before following Rafe with a blank expression and his tail between his legs.

Shuddering out a breath, I unclip my waist bag and begin to pick up the chunks of glass. Pausing when a pair of clean, white shoes entre my line of sight, "Careful," she crounches down, picking up a shard, placing it into my bag.

A few minutes of picking up the sizable pieces, all that was left on the slabs was a glittering shimmer. Satisfied with what was salvaged, we stand back up to our full height. It was silent. Awkwardly silent.

"Thank you," I shyly say, not at all pleased that the Cameron girl had caught me in a moment of weakness, but at least she didn't mock me for it.

"Your welcome," she smiles before reaching for the tennis rackets she had thrown on the ground before coming to help me. Certain that was the end of the exchange, I turned back to the pool where pieces of metal and loose book pages float carelessly on the surface.

It was just a bunch of junk anyway.

"Hey," Sarah turns, rubbing the back of her head subconsciously, "I'm going to save mice from the birds," she says, pointing out to the bottom of her garden where the surge has blown over, waterlogging the grass.

I just blink at the girl, confused as to why she is even telling me this. Letting out a gentle huff, "I have a spare racket," she offers, holding out one of the two rackets she has in her hands.

Finally catching what she's throwing, I look anywhere but her direction, "I can't," hoping to find a legit excuse as to why I don't want to help her be a hero for mice. Then it hit me, "I'm supposed to be babysitting Wheezie."

My triumphant smile fell as fast as it came when Sarah says, "The powers back on, Wheezie will not willingly come outside again," still holding out the bat for me to take, "Also, my dad's back, so your shift ended about 20 minutes ago."

The more reasons she adds, the more difficult she is making it to say no, and she knows it as well. Her eyebrows dancing lightly as she waves the racket around like a tempting treat.

Giving in, seeing as though I have run out of excuses to give, I grudgingly accept the racket. Maybe her being the sworn enemy of my best friend would have been a good excuse, but I didn't think of that at the time. And what would I of said:

'Oh, I can't help you, even though you selflessly helped me, because my best friend hates your guts.'

What are we, middleschoolers?

I can't help but feel wrong about it though. Like I'm betraying my role as a pogue, as a best friend. But if I feel that way about just being near the kook princess, that doesn't make me any better than her brother. A judgmental prick.

Let's call it paying back a debt. She helped me, now I'll help her. Tit for tat. Anything to make my mind feel at ease.

Walking behind the women who seemed to be on a mission, I'm met by the shrieking flock of overhead seagulls, each nosediving into the burrows, hoping to catch their next meal.

"Operation ‘Save The Mice’ is a go," she announces, holding out her racket waiting for me to tap mines against hers, declaring our battle. I couldn't help but wonder aloud, "Why does this concern us?" tapping my racket unsurely against hers.

Nodding her head in confirmation, she takes her stance, eyes now set on the sky. "You have about as much compassion as a rock," she focusses her swing, untimely missing by a long shot. It was entertaining to watch, I'm not going to lie.

"Tell me something I don't know," I reply, leaping back as the girl swings her racket with vigour and fury at the diving gulls. I can't help but laugh at her attempts.

Having enough of my laughter she turns around, a challenging look flaring in her eyes, "Think you can do any better?"

I just shrug my shoulders, twirling the racket around my fingers, smirking at my trick, but Sarah just looks unimpressed. Watching as a flock of gulls take their position to dive,  I jump as high as possible hoping to swat them away.

At that moment I learned something about human capability. Humans shouldn't jump. Like ever. It's embarrassing. What do we expect? To touch the stars? It's nice to dream and imagine that when we push both legs of the ground, arms reaching high, that we are close to flying. Let's just say my non-existing dream to become an Olympic long jumper has just flushed down the toilet.

Another thing I learned is that when you swing a racket, with force, at a cluster of hungry Seagulls, you will get attacked. The only thing between them and they're next meal is me, and they didn't hesitate to remove me from the situation.

Letting out a shriek, I run away from the burrows, hands protecting my head as the birds swoop at me. Without a second thought, I run behind Sarah, using her as a shield to protect my crouching figure from the diving gulls.

After two minutes of fearing for my life, I can't help but chuckle at myself. And Sarah joins in, shoving my arm lightly, pushing me away from hiding behind her. The sudden shove causes me to stumble over my own feet, falling back on the grass. I couldn't help but laugh more, seeing stars as my stomach cramps in pain.

Sarah holds out her hand, trying her best to keep her balance from laughing, offering to help me up. I accept without a second thought, allowing her to pull me to my feet. Both smiling widely at our stupidity.

"Let's get these birds," I smirked at the girl who nodded her head in agreement. Both of us taking a battle stance, ready to defend our people. Or well Mice. They attack us, we attack them.

A cold shadow suddenly covers the setting sun that was shining against us. We let out another shriek, holding each other as we attempt to duck from the relentless gulls, running away from the burrows.

"Sarah!" I hear someone shout over our screams. Too busy protecting ourselves, we didn't even register the voice, "Mason?!" They ask in confusion.

Finally feeling safe enough from the killer birds, I look up to see Mr Cameron making his way towards us with Lana Grubbs at his side. 'Why is she here?'

"We're busy!" Sarah exclaims, picking up and tossing me the racket I had dropped when I fell, going back to swinging at the birds. She takes one side of the burrows and I take the other, waving around my racket. At this point I don't even care about the mice, those birds attacked me! So, I'm attacking them!

"What are you two doing?" Mr Cameron asks, not understanding why his daughter and his hired babysitter are running around like headless chickens.

"Saving mice," I reply, flashing my eyes over to the man, who stands with an ever so slightly amused look. "The birds are having a field day," Sarah adds, pulling me with her, chasing after the devils in the sky.

"Girls, the birds have to eat too," He implies, but we didn't hear any of it, still aimlessly swinging. "No, it's a mouse genocide out here," Sarah states breathlessly.

"It's the circle of life," Mr Cameron's patience was running thinner, "Now come on, I have a human being-" finally introducing the other presence in the garden. This pauses our attack, both looking apologetically at the lady, "-I'm so sorry. I'm Sarah."

Shaking the ladies hand, "This is Lana Grubbs, Scooter's wife," Mr Cameron introduces, "You were storm prepping with him, right?" he asks his daughter.

"Yeah," she answers, still breathless, "He helped me latch the cabin to the Druthers," nodding her head in the direction of the docked boat at the end of the pier.

'It's a nice boat,' I thought taking in the beauty of the three-story yacht, 'You can't hide money, huh.'

"Last night?"

"Yeah."

"And did he go out after that?"

"From here?"

"Yeah."

"No. Are you crazy? There was a hurricane," Sarah laughs lightly at the thought of someone willingly going out during a storm.'I could think of a few people,'  bringing my attention back to the two adults in front of me.

"Well, did he say where he was going?" Miss Lana asks, her eyes erratic, "Get a phone call or mention anything?" The desperation lacing her voice makes my heart stop with sympathy for the woman.

"He didn't say anything to me," Sarah shakes her head, her tone not hiding her pity for the lady.

"What about you Mason?" Mr Cameron asks me, "Have you seen Scooter recently?" his questions sparking Miss Lana to look my way, her eyes glistening with withering hope.

"The last I saw of him was when Pope and I delivered to your house," regret instantly hit me, as I had to be the bearer of bad news. It was true though. The last time I saw Scooter was earlier this week when he opened the door for his groceries. I've seen him at Save-A-Lot a few times, but that was months ago when I had to tell him to leave because other customers were complaining that he was bothering them for money.

"I'm sorry," I apologise to the lady who just shakes her head, looking at the ground.

"Is he okay?" Sarah asks her dad who just nods, wrapping an arm around Miss Lana, "He's absolutely fine," he reassures Sarah, before guiding the dazed woman back towards the house.

"Oh!" I hear Mr Cameron exclaim, spinning round to face me, digging through his pockets, "Thank you for watching Wheezie today," he says, placing a brown envelope in my hand.

"Thank you, sir," I smile with gratitude as he makes his leave again.

Sighing, I slap the envelope a few times in my hand, turn back to a Sarah. I go to snap her out of her daydream, but get interrupted by a distant voice, "Hey Sarah!"

At the top of the disarranged lawn stood a scornful Topper, hands in his pockets as he looks down on us, making his way over at a snail pace.

"You better go," I flick my head in the direction of her boyfriend whose eyes are slitted with distaste. Holding out the racket for her to take, she nods her head and makes her way over to Topper, not even sparing me a glance.

I get it.

"I want you to stay away from that pogue, alright?" I hear him utter not so quietly under his breath, knowing fine well that I'm still able to hear him. I pay him no mind, finding my own way out. That's what he wants. Attention. That's always been what Toppers wants. And I'm not going to give him that satisfaction. Not anymore.

Humming a gentle tune under my breath as I make my way towards the gate. I double-take when I spot a hunched figure sitting by the pool, "Wheezie?"

My sudden appearance spooking her as she ripped the earphones out from her ears, the buds projecting a catchy pop beat. The girl sat on the cold slabs, clad in yellow rubber gloves and safety goggles, surrounded my various cleaning tools: a basin of soapy water, a toothbrush, a blow torch?

"What are you doing?" I ask sceptically, making my way towards her as she stuttered over her words before giving up with a sigh.

"I heard what Rafe said," she admits, her voice low as though afraid to speak out against her brother. That's the Rafe effect. He gets off on it. Knowing that everyone around him, his family included, is too scared to tell him he's a mess with even messier opinions. "And it not true," she adds.

Wheezie walks over, holding out the shoe buckle that we found on the beach. The once rusted and unrecognisable buckle now sparkled a blinding silver, and despite its eroded corners, it was still in great condition, "Pretty, right?" she notices my expression, "That's not the best part," she claims, turning over the buckle,  holding it out of me to take.

Engraved on the silver base scribed, 'Made in Occupied Japan.'

"I couldn't save everything, like books and stuff, but I tried my best. I even made a box and everything," She rambles, rushing over to pick up the homemade box that read, "Lost and Found," painted in bold, pink lettering. In the box sat: a polished pin, the candlestick holder, a handful of leather wallets and all the other salvageable treasure that we found. And now the shoe buckle.

"It's not junk," she says, passing me the box, "They belong to someone and I hope they find them," she says, rubbing the back of her tinted red neck, finally understanding why I had her help me in the first place.

It's not junk.

I'm not great when it comes to other peoples emotions. They make me want to shrivel up and go invisible, but I can't help but admire the girls change of heart, but I'm still awkward so, I just ruffle her hair, hoping the annoying act conveys my gratitude.

Having enough of me for one day, Wheezie pushes me toward the gate, practically kicking me out. "See you next time kid," I shout over my shoulder, smiling as her face grovels at the word 'kid'.

Basking at my long journey home, I give up attempting to balance the light box in my arms. I place it on the sidewalk, unzipping my waist bag wanting to tuck the brown envelope, that I was struggling to hold, away. 

The clattering of glass pauses my actions. Reaching in, I pick out a small piece, watching as the setting sun danced across the surface, shining every colour of the rainbow onto the tarmac.

'S.G'

Chapter Three: FIN!

I really enjoyed writing this chapter, even though it’s kind of filler. Kie would be proud of Mason for beach combing, her tendencies are rubbing off on her.

I choose for Mason not to go to the motel because that’s just what I choose, I don’t really have a reason why. Well I do, but I can’t tell you yet. You’ll find out eventually, if my idea goes to plan...

So we learned about Mason very perfessional babysitting service. Also I know that Rafe is, y’know bad, but I’m excited to explore Mason’s relationship with him. It will be interesting to write!

What did you think?

I’m really excited to write the next chapter. Mason is going to get buzzed.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter <3

Also, if anyone would like to be tagged in future chapters, just let me know and I’ll for sure do that!

*TAGLIST*

@xshinytrashcanx​ @prejudic3​ @annoylinglyaries​

[fimflamfilosophy]

Characters: Tearing Each Other Together

After the world-sweeping success of my previous article (forty notes on Tumblr, wow!) and being driven out of my house due to mold for the second time in two months, I think the time is right to add another essay to the subject of character design and writing. But what’s left to say after having definitely solved the entire process of character writing the last time?

Well, suppose you can figure out the emotional state of one person. That’s well and good, and oddly harder for people than you might imagine. And I think the reason it’s so hard is because in virtually any show you’re not going to be given a character in a vacuum to learn that process from. They have some story, something they’re trying to overcome, and other characters they’re bouncing off of, and the actual process of conflict is more complicated than knowing who your characters are.

Hate, Love, or Indifference, It’s All A Struggle

So what’s the essence of a story? There’s some motive that’s trying to be achieved. A conflict. And I can’t stress this enough. Conflict. Because it’s one thing if you say your main character is a kid who wants to be the best Poke’mon trainer and completely another to have that be a concrete objective with a satisfying story and conclusion. Wanting to be the “best” isn’t actually conflict. It’s a dream. Being forced to travel the known world to acquire eight gaudy pins that probably cost twenty-five cents each to manufacture? That’s conflict.

And not only do you have to travel the world, you do so with a shrill red-head who explicitly hates you because you trashed her bike, and a sex-starved pervert whose life dream is to make Poke’mon mate with each other for a living. And that’s important. Without Misty and Brock, Ash’s journey is a lot less interesting for a lot of reasons. Misty calls Ash out every time he messes up, and aside from being on a watch list, Brock is a helpful older character who tells Ash, and therefore the audience, what’s what.

But let’s back up, because people understand the benefit of Brock and Misty at a basic level, but when you’re starting off, how do you know who those people should be? Well, every show, from sitcom, to comedy to drama, does its best to balance personalities against each other so there’s always some sort of conflict possible between them.

Now, “conflict” doesn’t mean they’re trying to kill each other. It could mean they’re falling in love with each other. Maybe it means they don’t have much in common but have to work together over long hours in isolation. The idea is simply that there’s something to overcome between these people. Misty thinks Ash is stupid - that’s a conflict which is often leveraged to push Ash forward. Brock, however, has a reactive role in the show, only functioning in conflict when a womanizer who grovels at the feet of ladies Ash is already helping anyway.

It’s odd because if Misty were older she would be set up very well as kind of an “opposites” romantic torture device with Brock. They’re even depicted as professional equals, which would have made their levels of expertise and experience more balanced. Had they been closer in apparent age, a “will they won’t they” romance would have fit adequately, with Brock’s constant hitting on other women serving as a major, hopeless, long-lasting roadblock to a serious relationship between them; it would work especially well because Misty is established to have an inferiority complex to her prettier sisters. It also might help explain why Brock hung around so long. But as it was, Brock’s main contribution to the inner dynamic was to act as a mediator, caretaker, and mentor.

But circling back to Brock’s dream of Poke’mon husbandry. Well, on the meta level that’s why he doesn’t leave. Because it’s not a motive, he’s not taking steps towards it, and it’s not going to happen, it’s just a dream. Until it does happen, anyway, and then they wrote him out of the show - but we’ll dig more into this later.

Balancing Imbalance

The best place to look to see good conflict set ups between characters are popular sitcoms. Consider the show “Frasier”: it ran for eleven seasons and revolved mainly around the personal spats of Frasier, his brother Niles, their dad, and the dad’s caretaker, Daphne. Frasier was arrogant, Niles was insecure, Dad was an earnest roughneck, and Daphne was well-meaning. Frasier and Niles were also elitist pricks at times so they couldn’t even always agree where to eat together, much less with their father who was happier having a burger with ketchup.

Every episode had some central motivator; an ice fishing trip, a joint investment, an awards ceremony - but these things were just catalysts to the main conflict, which was almost always something between characters. We’d seen it time and again, that Frasier and his Dad would come to blows over differences in taste. Niles would try to court Daphne while torn by his commitment to his failing marriage, over and over. But the pithy banter and the way they resolved it would always be new, so people watched this show, episode after episode, for over a decade.

And the simple beauty of it all was that each of the characters had something to do with each other. Whether it be filial obligation, lust, sibling rivalry, friction between introversion and extroversion, or taste in food, they always had some source of conflict to make a show out of. Niles and Frasier were both psychiatrists, but from different schools of thought and different working environments, so they even had chances to butt heads academically and professionally. It was rich with writing opportunities and it’s not any wonder it lasted so long.

Another sitcom, “New Girl”, which was about a group of roommates, had a good dynamic set-up between two characters, Schmidt and Nick. Nick is a messy slob and Schmidt’s a type A neat freak, creating a really obvious source of conflict to work with. But then they had a third character, Winston, who they lampshade as the token black guy. 

Now, the joke that Winston is the “black friend” has pretty much no legs, so in the early seasons you see him acting as kind of a third party mediator, or maybe a wild card, and it winds up being funnier when Winston is unhelpful. So as the seasons went on, Winston gradually lost his damn mind. He becomes a cop and meets a woman so that he’d have some character growth and dynamic, but also develops into a man who would burn a building down as a prank. The writers had no idea what they were doing with him and he gradually flew further and further off the handle.

Don’t get me wrong, I really liked Winston as a character. Aside from being funny in the show, watching the writers gradually unglue him from sanity was its own meta comedy above that. I knew they were doing it on accident, but having such a good time with it that it was just going to keep getting worse. In fact a major component of the finale for the whole show is an insane thing Winston does. They wrap the show on the note, “Winston is crazy”. And it all happened because they didn’t figure out what Winston’s conflict was at the start. He didn’t have a source of conflict with anyone, so the man became a living breathing embodiment of conflict in general.

Your Story Ends With the Conflict

Now, the catch is, in any type of fiction, whether a video game, a roleplaying session, or a sitcom, the story ends when the conflict does, because if the conflict is over there’s nothing more to tell! It used to frustrate me to no end back when “My Little Pony” was popular and the other nerds on the internet used to ask, “How many times must Fluttershy learn not to be shy, or that being shy is okay? When will she overcome all that she is and eliminate the core element that creates conflict for her?”

The answer should always be that the character will learn their damn lesson when the show ends or when they’re written off it. If you are sick of seeing a character and don’t want to see them any more, the best thing to do is close out their issues, because once they have no conflicts, they have no story, and there’s no point in doing a show about them. Asking Fluttershy to stop being shy is asking to say goodbye to her, because she's a cartoon and her job is to entertain kids by being neurotic and yellow.

People think they’re so smart when they say they’d solve all a character’s problems if it were them. In the finale to the first season of Poke’mon, for example, Ash decides to gamble his whole championship run on Charizard, who’s a self-absorbed bitch of a creature that ultimately throws the match and leaves it an open question whether Ash might have won if he’d left the team primadonna sitting on the bench.

Some viewers see that and complain it’s the dumbest possible thing Ash could have done, but it’s probably one of the single most brilliant things the Poke’mon writers did in the grand scheme, because think about where it left us. Ash didn’t achieve his goal of proving he’s “the best”, but it feels like a fluke and if he got another shot, he might make it all the way. This gave the show a gateway to more episodes with Ash still having something to prove and a dumb mistake indicating he still had a lot to learn. Because he didn’t win, his story hadn’t ended.

In some cases shows can end characters just by addressing some dream goal they’ve been expressing since the first season. In the case of Brock, they intentionally removed him from the show by introducing him to some girl who was willing to work with Brock in the animal husbandry business. He’d been traveling all this time, his dream opportunity fell into his lap, and he was gone. What reason would he have to refuse, and why would anyone stop him? And of course, Brock’s dream job was incompatible with the central plot elements of the rest of the show, so that was it!

The Format Informs the Conflict

If you want to write something but you aren’t sure when it’s going to end, you need a concrete, long-term conflict that’s not just going to go away. For example, in “Scooby Doo and the Thirteen Ghosts”, there were thirteen ghosts. By design, that show should have ended after Scooby Doo found all thirteen ghosts. It actually ended earlier than that because it was cancelled, but you get the idea. When you have a finite goal, your run time is going to be finite as well.

At least in theory. In “JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure” they establish at the beginning of one season that everyone’s magic powers were based on the Tarot. Now, I don’t know the Tarot off hand, but as the show went on I knew that sooner or later they’d run out of Tarot cards, and in my mind I assumed the season would be over when the Tarot ended. But then I got a good chuckle when a guy showed up and his powers were based on a totally different theme, because I knew the writer had realized he’d stumbled into something good and wasn’t ready to end it. He invented a cheap excuse to keep going! And I think if “Scooby Doo and the Thirteen Ghosts” had been successful they’d have managed to unleash a whole lot more than thirteen ghosts because Hannah Barbera was not exactly a studio with a lot of shame.

Character conflicts like those in sitcoms are a great way to have conflict perpetually, because people don’t really change that much and there’s no reason why most of the fundamental friction shouldn’t be there indefinitely. But of course, character-driven conflict is going to be secondary in an event-driven show. “Jojo” actually does have a lot of character conflict, but the plot is primarily about the battles and the journey - if all the fighting ended Jojo’s characters probably couldn’t carry a sitcom, at least not without some serious hard work, a little genius, and a touch of elbow grease.

For event-driven conflict, you’ll want to establish a target - a moving target if you don't know when the story ends, and that can be pretty difficult. Old action shows and comics used to do it by having a rotating cast of villains, so that after one was defeated another would show up tomorrow, and it was assumed these guys regularly broke out of prison, or they escaped in rocket pods, or whatever, and they’d be back later with a new goofy scheme. In these cases you tend to find reactive heroes; they patrol the streets until a lunatic in tights and a garden-themed hat shows up and transforms everyone into people-shaped topiaries somehow.

For active heroes, you need to establish something that requires a lot of structure, like Ash’s journey to win the Poke’mon League. In every country he visits, they all have this asinine rule that you have to go to eight unique locations and kick the ass of someone who disadvantages themselves with an easily-countered mono team that all have the same exact weakness. You can’t be accepted into the League if you haven’t proven you own a water Poke’mon to utterly flatten the fire gym! Let’s be real, this nonsense is probably designed intentionally as a money gate - most people run out of cash before they qualify. Either way, it ends when Ash wins the league, and he lost the league so the show could keep going.

For roleplaying games, the same rules apply. With your players, you’re either going to establish a reactive goal - an adventuring guild hires a bunch of colorful salarymen with silly accents to go to a dungeon as part of their nine to five job - or you need players to set an active goal for themselves and keep the realization of that goal beyond their reach until you’re ready to end the game.

The Active Hero Acts

In my younger years, I learned to roleplay in almost exclusively player-driven games where we were expected to come up with our own goals and pursue them ourselves, but I’ve discovered that is stunningly rare in most roleplaying circles. Your typical D&D player likes to play the salaryman with a funny accent who doesn’t have to worry about the venturous part of adventure. His boss told him to go to the Cave of Everlasting Wonders and Torturous Screams, recover the Sword of Bad Portent, and then hand it over to the department of magic items where they’ll file the paperwork to get it delivered to the patron that wanted the sword for some reason. No need to have your own motives.

But what if you want to play a crime fighter who actually, you know, busts up all the crime? Clearly you can’t just wait for crime to happen passively - you’ve got to go after people. Act instead of being reactive. Purse snatchers are small time and in a more grounded setting the guys you’ll catch by being passive are just grunts being hired out by someone - usually kids in a lot of cases. You have to seek out the bosses.

Making an active character to fit into any setting can be challenging, and I’ve seen quite a few pitfalls. I think one of the funniest motives is always “the guy who wants to go home” due to its obvious failure condition. A lot of stories are about everymen who just want to get out of trouble, but those stories end when they get out of trouble! In many books, movies, shows, or roleplaying games, you’re almost always going to find opportunities to send that guy home, and you’ll have to either conveniently ignore it, switch motives and decide not to go home, or end the whole story with going home. These characters only work where the story is happening to them and it's all out of their control.

I’ve also seen my share of the “quirky genius inventor/scientist”. When someone designs a character mistaking a dream for a motive. They dream of building a better mouse trap, you see. That’s their inner conflict. And while this is a real world conflict, it’s difficult to make it a good story because actual science and invention involves a lengthy quantity of controlled experiments. You breed hundreds of fruit flies, expose them to nicotine, and try to isolate the gene that causes nicotine resistance. It can be fascinating work at its level but sometimes the most exciting part of your day is when you give yourself a steam burn cooking the fly food. The “quirky scientist” in fiction is usually more of a mentor, and if he insists on staying in his lab doing his work then he’s not even a main character - he’s a guy who explains fruit flies to the audience and then is never heard from again. Other times he’s the asshole who invented the story’s whole problem.

I once played in a game with “the quirky scientist who wants to go home”, and man was that a frustrating ride. The game itself was about occult magic and demons, and for most of the game the scientist was experimenting with teleportation magic to go home and was focused on that above the goal of finding and eradicating demons (the game’s premise). And when he finally met a boss demon that could teleport him home to his lab, he went! We wound up retiring a character who, to be honest, was barely even interested in the main subject of the story. Had he been in a film or a show, they’d have cut the character after the first draft because he served no purpose and wasted screen time.

So how do you make sure your character has a working, proactive goal, in a nutshell? Establish a goal that can be achieved by the character within the framework of your story through action by leaving his house (or after burning his house down so he can’t go home), and then make sure the goal is big enough that it will take many broad steps to get there - those steps need to be concrete and visible, not things that would happen off-screen. Most importantly, tie that goal into the main premise of the story, so that reaching the end of the story generally may achieve what the character wants.

If You Aren’t Trying, It’s Not A Trial

Okay, I understand that last bit probably requires more unpacking. But think of it this way. There’s a writing structure referred to as the “Hero’s Journey”. Basically it goes like this: the hero is forced into adventure, he meets friends and goes through trials, he hits his lowest point, he is reborn into a better man, he ends the conflict, story over.

What I’m talking about specifically right now are the trials. The “wacky inventor” is usually presumed to do all his research off screen because most media likes to focus on the results of the invention and the conflict. But if you were to focus on the trials of a scientist, it’d actually be about procuring research grants and potentially materials. You wouldn’t watch a show about a man who checks gene A-235 for nicotine resistance in flies, then goes on to A-236, then A-237.

If I were to write a story about a researcher, here’s one thing I might do: the researcher fails to find what he’s looking for in gene A-235, and when he goes to seek a grant to look at A-236, he finds one of his colleagues has convinced the university that the protagonist’s research is a dead end. Hearing this, the researcher realizes he’s about to lose his lab, so he writes a bit of a lie into his report on A-235. He says it may prevent cancer.

Now, the protagonist is, deep down, a good man. He thinks this will generate some buzz at the university and get him more funding, but he’ll do a follow-up and show the data doesn’t hold up. After that he’ll ask for money for A-236 and everything goes back to normal. But disaster strikes. His article, which was only supposed to show up in an obscure research journal, gets picked up by a major news network and winds up being spread all over. Suddenly he’s “the man who cured cancer”.

And as he’s trying to figure out how to navigate the issue, another researcher comes out and says that under peer review, he was able to replicate the results. He too shows that A-235 cures cancer! Now the hero isn’t sure. He becomes a celebrity and simply lies about his research because he has no real data, but try desperately as he might, in private he just can’t get the results the peer review insisted were there.

He struggles and struggles, coming to blows with his colleague who’s scrutinizing his research notes. Throw in a love interest who’s impressed with what this guy did, and actually I think I’ve just described the plot of some movie I saw a long time ago about faking cold fusion. I think Albert Einstein was a supporting character in it. In my version the twist would be the peer reviewer was also trying to get a grant by lying. Point is, the central conflict of the film certainly isn’t the scientific process, it’s all the crazy crap that happened on the way from point A to point B.

The story is in the trials. If nothing changes, if the character doesn’t have to change their way of life or go through anything special, it’s either not a story or it’s not your typical story. There are plenty of experimental films or well-regarded books that can make a certain banality become interesting. Stories that explain the simple struggles of day to day living for people on hard times. But the trials, the palpable challenges, that’s really the meat of it all. When you think of what your character should be doing throughout the story, he should be going through these efforts, these steps, these trials, all in the name of whatever his broader goal is.

Where You Start Affects Where You End

It also matters quite a lot when and where characters are introduced. A lot of tales follow some basic notes, and one of the more common elements is “crossing the threshold”, which prevents your characters from going back to their life before the adventure. It’s used because it compels the characters forward, as they have no other direction they can go. It can be anything: the character’s home town is destroyed, the character commits a crime, he accepts a contract, his mother dies - so long as it prevents him from going back. It’s especially useful in roleplaying games where you really need everyone to be driving forward.

In one such roleplaying game, I got in a spat with the guy who wanted to run the game because I was trying to make a leader character, but the game master wanted to base his game around a movie he’d seen with a single main character. He’d elected another player to be that main character, and explained to me he’d be starting the game after that character had already crossed the threshold and had begun his journey. This meant that everyone else were supporting cast and could go back to their normal lives at any time, because they were coming willingly from where they were and not really facing any drastic changes to their personal status quo.

I eventually resolved not to play in that game at all, because none of the character dynamics I wanted were going to work. It was supposed to be a “wannabe” superhero game, with the premise that everyone wanted to be heroes, except one player had already started the journey and it turned out another had already reached the end of that arc and was going to play a character that had been a hero going on years before the story began. There was no plan to really reconcile the narrative clashes.

If that game were to work as it was, without me being present, then the person playing the pre-established hero would have needed to take the mentor role. The other players besides the main character would have needed to be comfortable in auxiliary roles, and the group would have to play as though they were part-way into the story. Still learning to be a team but well past the initial stages of a plot, and they’d all need to think up reasons to be in this group individually on their own, because the threshold had already been crossed and they didn’t cross it together.

The friend running the game was actually dismissive of my advice here, arguing that I was overcomplicating everything with a meta analysis of narrative and structure when all we need is a basic drive to play, and I don’t think he realized he’d set himself up with a much more complicated game and less cohesive premise by going about things as he had.

The already established hero couldn’t be the mentor because a mentor character had already been created as an NPC. The auxiliary players weren’t really informed at the outset they’d be auxiliaries - especially not me who’d wanted to play the team leader. The player who’d been designated as the central protagonist didn’t want to lead or be the central protagonist. It could have worked, but it would have taken a lot more planning and many more concessions than a typical game.

In a more recent game, I’ve got another bit of an issue with the start misleading the general goals of the players. It’s a sci-fi game, and first, one player is doing “the quirky inventor scientist”; his current stated dream is vaguely to create transhumanist technology. He also wants to play the leader, so he established himself as the most important man nobody has ever heard of. He has spies in every major institution in the known galaxy and is a genius beyond comparison. He’s currently based in a rusting pirate ship in the middle of the space boonies doing nothing with his life save being the most important man.

Meanwhile, I set up a disgraced military officer with a revenge quest against his own nation. But the pirate crew my character joined turned out to not believe in structure nor leadership and they killed their last commander to have a system of “democracy”. My structure-minded character has tried to take the lead and drive us forward, but he runs into general deconstructive resistance and the “quirky scientist” wants to be the leader, but hasn’t yet expressed self-motivated goals.

It’s not exactly my most harmonious game and there’s quite a lot going wrong here, but here’s how it could have worked: first, establishing that the crew of the pirates respects no leadership places the entire crew in the precarious position of being “chickenshit” at the outset. That kind of incohesiveness is why a band of rogues gets easily defeated; it’s not the behavior of scrappy men of action, but hopeless men of inaction. A corrupted “democracy” collectivises failure while awarding success to whoever actually has the most power in the group structure - it protects the weak leaders from responsibility and disincentivizes good work by allowing those same men to reap rewards while offloading the burdens to those lower on the ladder. In essence, “If things are screwed up, blame the democracy. If things are good, I did it.”

What should have happened was the “quirky scientist” should have been in charge to start with, because otherwise he has no reason to be on board the ship. He’s the most powerful man in the galaxy, after all. If it were because he was financing the pirates to go on raiding and salvage missions relevant to his research, then it would make sense. He’d have a purpose and a position of leadership just as the player wanted. It would also establish the pirates have some command structure and a level of respect for it that allows them to function.

And the power struggle between the disgraced officer and the scientist? Perfectly reasonable character conflict that would drive actual, meaningful roleplaying and story. The scientist may bankroll the operation but the officer is the tactical talent and the two pull in opposite directions, as power-hungry men often do.

However, the opportunity to start with a sensible and meaningful social dynamic has passed, and on top of that the “quirky scientist” keeps his galaxy-wide power a secret, so it’s all kind of messy and “badly written” in the sense that most audiences would be generally rooting for the crew to fail, and they’d find the grand reveal of the scientist’s galactic power to be frustrating and unrewarding because it’s more of a plot hole than anything. So close on so many counts and yet so very far, and the opportunity to pull it together eventually is present but a more challenging and uphill battle than getting it right at the outset.

In The End, Did We Even Learn Anything?

Creating a character is easy, in my opinion. Creating a working story with a group of self-driven characters can be a lot harder. This is especially true of roleplaying games or of cooperation with multiple writers, where you need to be on the same general page with a committee. It can help a lot to establish the exact conflicts at the beginning, but as can be seen with Winston from “New Girl” or the later seasons of “My Little Pony”, what you have can morph beyond your control as things go on.

Sometimes you never had control in the first place. Sometimes you lose control because you conclude the original conflict of your story and struggle to find a new one - the brand is too successful to let go. Maybe an executive comes in and injects an idea that throws the entire balance of everything totally out of whack and now nothing works. Sometimes your friend thinks story structure is overrated. It’s a difficult juggling act.

So at the end of this essay did we even learn anything? It depends a lot on what you’re trying to do and what you wanted to learn. If you’re the more typical Dungeons and Dragons group, you don’t need to think much about this. Just make your characters and passively react to activities handed out by Dungeons, Dungeons & Co - your conflict is event-driven. Are you writing a sitcom? Well, balance a tangled web of conflicting character habits and write the ensuing disaster. Want to make a complex film about a group of highly motivated, proactive people with sophisticated individual goals that ultimately converge while still respecting their rich, conflicting, inner politics, and do all that writing as part of a team? Well, good goddamn luck, but with the right start and enough care you can make it happen.

[phoenix]

So I mentioned this on Twitter, largely to force the issue and make myself write about it, but a few months ago my sister did something that shook me to my core.  (And as I’m writing these words, I am brainfarting and feel like I *DID* say this already, and haven’t kept it to myself, but I’mma redo it anyways.

Incoming cut for sanity.

So, we all might remember a few months ago, Tucker Carlson was under investigation for some sexual assault charges (And fair warning, I MIGHT munge up some of the details, I don’t reel like digging into this too much save for how it affects me), and as a possible distraction, he spoke during his program about a reporter who was supposedly working on an article that would reveal the address of where he and his family lived.

He said something to the affect of, “How would HE like it if SOMEONE out there found HIS address and spread it all over the internet??”

Turns out, this article did not exist (I mean, what could someone even be writing about to point out where Carlson lived, outside of abject cruelty? but I digress), or at the very least, had yet to be published.  BUT, Tucker’s little minions found that address, posted it on Facebook and the like, and all their followers blindly went and spread it around like the good little toadies.

Including my sister.

And to this day, it makes me absolutely SICK to think about.  I nearly threw up when I saw that, and it took me a good hour of sitting on the bathroom floor before I even felt well enough to move away.

Why did it affect me so?  Because it is so...disturbing, because it’s behaviour we’ve seen before.  It’s the exact behaviour seen in Nazi Germany where the leaders would ask where the dissenters were, and their loyal minions, or people seeking favour, or just those not wanting to be rounded up themselves, would point fingers.

It was in that moment I knew, I knew exactly, the person who would be the one to turn me in when/of this administration turns pure fascist.  And it’s my own family.  And I am feeling sick again just reliving it.

And there is, no question, zero excuse for it.

At best, there WAS an article that was written, and you could argue that the sudden threat of violence from being doxxed was enough to stop the article from coming out.  But that’s STILL disgusting, because two wrongs do not make a right.

And since there IS no article to say one way or another this is AT BEST a preemptive strike.  Which is bad enough in its own right.

At worst, this is Tucker Carlson pointing his mindless drones at a threat, snidely hinting at oh wouldn’t it be something if SOMEONE out there did what I was saying? and they did it.  And my sister helped.

What next?  Will she turn in the LGBT who secretly get married?  Will she point fingers at teachers who are teaching kids about the more accurate history, instead of the state approved Rah Rah America! 1776 Project history?  Will she call the Trumpstapo on me because of my obvious distaste and speaking out against her beloved leader?

Someone who will do that, follow someone so blindly, because they say “That person did a bad thing!” with zero evidence...terrifies me.  On a deeply personal level.

And that’s what I’ve been living with in my head for a few months, because I complain too much about my sister, and I didn’t want to trouble people with how bad it gets.  But I had to get this out because I need it out of me.

[mariamz11]

Quarantine – a manual for keeping your sanity

To be honest, what we’re going through is nothing compared to what our ancestors went through periods of war and famine. Yes, we do have all the necessities of food, hot water, electricity, television, even internet with endless entertainment at our fingertips.

However, it should be recognised that staying in quarantine at home is tough psychologically and denying there is an issue will probably leave you feeling even more depressed. Most of us at more than one point will probably feel hopeless and down and perhaps even like nothing depends on us.

As a result, I’ve decided to write this article for everyone affected but truth be told also for myself – I’ll keep re-reading it to serve as a reminder to keep myself going. I truly hope it helps you to manage your time better and feel better too.

Maintain regular sleep patterns

Just because you can sleep all you want doesn’t mean you should. Disrupting you regular sleep patterns will make it more difficult to return to normality once the quarantine period is over.

Stick to your normal routine as much as possible and don’t oversleep which can be tempting with too much time of your hands, as this will only cause grogginess throughout the day.

  Watch your food intake

Perhaps you’ve stocked up more than usual- that’s fine as long as you didn't go overboard and were selfish and left nothing for the rest, I cannot judge you there as myself I want to limit the amount of times go out shopping to minimise contact and risk of contagion and plan a week or two ahead.

However, too much stock at home are no excuse for overeating. Equally, you're likely feeling overwhelemed from time to time and can retort to eat comforting junk food. Not only will you gain weight especially with less exercise from sitting at home, but eating badly reflects negatively on your emotional and mental states. You are what you eat after all.

Plan your meals and shopping accordingly and ensure your meals are varied and rich in nutrients and vitamins. Don’t forget the fruits and veggies which will help to keep your immune system in check.

Pursue your hobbies/passions

If you’ve been delaying due to lack of time, now is the time when you must drop all the excuses.

Personally, I’ve been putting painting off for sometime now. Well I’ve ensured to set the time aside and moreover I’ve started working on a new project related to teaching, which is very exciting to say the least.

Doing things that are pleasant and equally challenging will lift your spirits and will make that much more tolerable if not somewhat pleasant to pass the quarantine time. So think about what you’ve dreamt of doing and do it now; if you haven’t got the materials, spend your time planning now and once the quarantine is over you can go out and purchase what you need and start a lot faster than without the prior planning.

Set a schedule

Having a lot of time on our hands doesn’t mean we cannot waste it; browsing the internet, watching the news etc can take up unlimited amounts of time and in the end you’ll feel like you’ve wasted the quarantine time “opportunity”.

Lack of normal structure can will likely make it harder not easier to organise your time effectively. Try and set some sort of a routine for yourself and if possible for your family, such as shower, exercise, work if you’re working from home, studying, research etc.

 Don’t forget to exercise

We take walking for granted – I personally don’t as I have a fitness watch to monitor my daily steps, but those who don’t , might simply not realise how much less moving around they’re doing so this needs to be compensated.

So do whatever you can, even without the gym equipment there are tons of floor work exercises, yoga and dancing. Even if following videos isn’t for you, just put the music on and move around in your own style as after all noone is watching you. Not only your body will thank you but so will your mind, as exercise will certainly boost your spirits.

Change your thinking

This is a personal battle for me as well that instead of being positive of what I’m blessed with, I find myself constantly complaining of not being able to go out. Well, complaining only puts you down and drains your energy and if you are to make productive use of the time, you need to stay positive. As hard as it may sound, try and see quarantine as an opportunity rather than punishment. Think of what you can do rather than of what you cannot.

Limit the news watching

As tempting as it is to try and keep abreast of all the news especially as you are inside not knowing what’s happening on the outside, limit this to a maximum of once a day. Continuous news watching sets panic, has highly contagious negativity and is energy draining, taking your time and life force away from doing something useful or pleasant.

To be honest, there are a lot of fake news, distorted news and also the news is designed to keep you scared to begin with.

Set boundaries with your family

I know they say you should be grateful for the opportunity to spend with your family and loved ones and appreciate every moment, but realistically speaking too much time together can drive everyone crazy and quarrels can ensue.

The sooner you realise this and act, the better it will be for everyone involved.Try and set boundaries, times not to be disturbed etc; respect each others need for privacy and space - something taken for granted outside of quarantine time.

Also, ensure to compromise and avoid conflict as staying together 24/7 in a conflictive situation will create a toxic environment for all, making an already emotionally difficult situation even worse. Support each other, not bring each other down.  

Look after yourself

Not going out is no excuse letting yourself go. Needless to say that you must maintain good hygiene, kempt hair and also try and look nice for yourself if not for your family, as wearing pyjamas all day will just leave you feeling sleepy, lazy and you’re unlikely to get anything productive done.

Wash your clothes regularly and put clothes on that are comfortable and make you feel good at the same time. Putting on make-up might be a tad excessive but using products that make hydrate your skin, hair and make you smell nice to yourself and others ( not too much perfiume!) shouldn't be abandoned.

The same goes without saying for maintaining a clean and orderly house.

Manage your emotions

As mentioned above, setting boundaries with those you share your home with, eating well, regular sleep patterns, positive way of thinking and doing regular exercise should help you manage when the going gets tough.

However, at times, you may be simply too overwhelmed and feel like no matter how much you try you simply cannot force yourself to do anything. Perhaps, this is when meditation and breathing exercises might help. Just type "anti-stress meditation" or "breathing relaxation techniques" into Youtube and select the video that appeals the most to you.

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Finally, remember that quarantine isn’t forever but only for a period of time, so stay strong and positive and make the most of it. Feel free to leave a comment with a  tip of your own or a comment.