#i get he's british and theres always going to be british press

[alwaysxyou]

.

[velociraptors-dont-lie]

Monsters, Marines...An archaeologist?

It is amazing how a life and death situation can bring people together... or tear them apart. Sally finds that piggybacking off Eric King's mission in Iraq bought her more than she bargained for. Death? Life? ...A Marine?

Part One

Jason Kolchek/OFC 

I changed her last name. (24/11/2021)

Technically not an xreader but theres so little fic for Jason yet that i thought people would wanna know. 

I added an image but its a bit big. shhh, idk how to make it smaller.

Posted here but will be continued on ao3 perhaps. 

''Right there! We'll have to lower the ladder! Havent got the time to wait for his highness to move!'' She yelled to her company as she moved to drop the ladder. ''Remember! Don't stray too far and stick to the story! We're technically not supposed to be here!''

With that, she grabbed her bags and descended the shaky ladder suspended mid-air by the hovering helicopter.  The wind force from both helo's made it difficult but she managed just fine enough to make it to the floor of the roof. Camp Slayer wasn't what she expected the camp to be, she expected tents and soldiers, not a whole ass palace that once belonged to Saddam.

''You're here! Great timing.'' Eric King greeted her, accepting his fate into the tight hug that was always usually accompanied with a lipstick mark on his cheek. Sure enough, just like every time, Eric lifted his hand to wipe off the lipstick as he turned to the Lieutenant he'd just met. ''Lieutenant, This is Sally Dane, Archaeologist. She'll be joining us on this mission.''

''First lieutenant Jason Kolchek, Pleasure to meet you.'' Said Lieutenant was confused. She shouldn't be here, departing into a warzone dressed in simple cargo trousers and a tank top. additionally, she was British, so why had the Colonel enlisted outside help from a British Archaeologist.

''Sir? An Archaeologist?'' Eric nodded as Clarice and Sally talked quietly to themselves, giving Kolchek the chance to continue trying to read the woman. ''Well, she is an Archaeologist but she's not here to be one. I'm not at liberty to discuss her business with you, Though. You'll have to ask her for those answers.''

A part of Kolchek wanted to argue, wanted to know right then and there, but he had just watched her climb down a ladder that was swinging wildly in the air. No normal Archaeologist would be able to do that without some visible struggling, Archaeologist his fucking ass, there was more to this woman...this beautiful woman.

Shit.

Merwin's gonna say something stupid, several times. Kolchek just knew it. Nevertheless, the briefing room was prepped already and it was time to go, there was no need to keep them waiting on the roof.

Kolchek opened the door for them, out of respect before taking the lead once more to show them the way to the briefing room. It was not long until they came to Merwin, working out on the bench press as you could usually find him doing in his downtime.

''I see you old man, keep busting out those reps.'' Kolchek quipped, hoping beyond god that he didn't say something stupid to the women.

''Come and join me, Maybe I'll teach you a thing or two.''

''Later. We have company.''

''Yeah, well, Maybe Missy here would like to watch me get my sweat on.'' From her hiding spot behind Eric, Sally tried not to laugh, grinning at Clarice when the woman looked over in annoyance; silently asking to be saved. ''Wanna spot me, little lady?''

''I can see you just fine from here, thanks.'' Clarice then turned to Sally with a shit-eating grin. ''Sally, You can spot him, right?''

''With a clean scope? For sure. Can't miss him.''

Kolchek glanced to Sally, 'Ignore Corporal Merwin. He lacks social skills.''

Sally leaned in towards Clarice to quietly add, ''And brain cells, evidently.''

''I guess every unit has its resident Jackass.'' Eric said as they walked on, only ending up coming into contact with another Soldier from the unit. Sally hoped this one was less woman-hungry.

''Sergeant Kay!'' Kolchek seemed excited to see this one, Sally noted, watching the small fist bump exchange. ''This is Lieutenant Colonel King. Just taking him down to the briefing room.''

''Yeah, gotta go get prepped.''

''I'll see you in there, Marine.'' Eric was trying far to hard to assimilate into the unit as a new Commanding officer. The Sergeant seemed off though, barely even managing and reply nod before walking off in a hurry.

''So what's his malfunction?''

''Nick ain't been himself lately. We got caught up in a shooting a few weeks back. Civilian ate a bullet. Nick took it hard.''

''Is he combat ready?''

''He's a big boy, sir. He's ready.''

Sally continued to look in the direction that the Sergeant had gone in, it wasn't like other marines she'd known of to linger too long on civilian casualties in a war. Then again, those of whom she'd known like that, didn't much have the heart to begin with.

''Where...Sally!'' She heard her name called, turning to find she'd been standing there for too long in her own thoughts like usual. ''Come back to the planet, I'm gonna need you.'' Sally gave a mock salute as she caught up to Eric, Clarice and Kolchek. Standing awkwardly to the side was the Lance corporal, Joey as known to the unit, Looking like a kicked puppy.  

''I'm telling you, when the queen bitch finds out about this. She's gonna flip her shit. ''Kolchek held up the paper that told everyone there was a new man in charge, glancing over to Sally in confusion as she swiped her hand back and forth over her neck.

Universal signal for shut the fuck up.

''That's my wife you're talking about.''

''I'm sorry, I had no idea.'' Kolchek was surprised, this was the first time he'd even heard of Rachel having a husband. she'd never so much as given any indication she was in a relationship. Sally

''He's real touchy about his wife. Queen bitch though, I like it. That makes him King bitch.'' luckily enough, this was the last room before the briefing room. So soon enough everyone can get to business. Sally wasnt here to listen to pointless conversations.

"Sir, I am so sorry. Rachel never said she was married." Kolchek apologised, trying not to aggravate Eric more. Rachel may not care about her little nickname but Eric sure did.

"We've been working apart this last year." Kolchek nodded with acceptation of the information, not quite knowing what else to say. "So she's the queen bitch now? She's gone up in the world.

"If it helps, we like to think of it as a term of endearment."

Sally walked past Eric, slapping him on the shoulder. "Come on, king bitch, let's set up."

Eric dropped his head, shaking but also chuckling at the same time. He looked up at Kolchek, giving an accusing finger. "I'm blaming you for that one. She's never letting that go." Kolchek didn't doubt it. The relationship between Eric and Sally seemed strong and if he hadn't witnessed his disgust at the lipstick covered kiss, he may have jumped to conclusions when seeing the stain on his hand.

"Right let's get you set up."

"I hope the bandwidth can cope with the data."

"I'll leave the techy stuff to you."

"And I'll leave the heavy lifting to Sally." Kolchek grinned over at Sally, who was standing with her own small laptop. She gave Clarice a wink without stopping the dance across the keyboard. "What is this place anyway? Looks like a ballroom. Sal, give us a show." Sally didn't reply, only giving a wave in recognition, Kolchek thought it rude but Clarice seemed like she knew the meaning of the action.

Sally briefly noted Rachel walking in, choosing to further herself from the room and focus on her screen until Eric was ready. Only when she saw Clarice waving at her did Sally rejoin them, noticing that the rest of the team for the mission had arrived. The TV screen was set up in place to cast Eric's presentation on it, Sally stood nearby but off to the side to view the plan.

"Fuck is that? Modern art or something?"

"This footage is from the highly classified Caelus program."

Merwin wouldn’t have understood, Sally could tell he was more a shoot first and questions never kind of guy. "That supposed to mean something to me?"

"It's a thermal satellite system that I personally pioneered."

"Ohh" Merwin was mocking, nontolerant and ignorant of the work the program required. " Well I'm impressed, please pioneer away."

"You behave like this in all your briefings, Corporal?"

"Boys are just eager to catch a break, sir. No harm meant." Jason Kolchek defended his team mate. Though Sally's obvious sigh of annoyance meant that he not cleared Merwin's bad impression with her.

Sally's worked over the screen as Eric explained that there should be a hidden silo with Saddams chemical weapons inside and yet... Sally couldn't help the foreboding that bubbled in her stomach.

The first lieutenant was cautious in his plans and advised Eric to grab further air support. Merwin disagreed and Sally saw both points, yet ultimately.

"As much as it pains me, Eric, I agree with Merwin. Air support would only garner more attention than we need. Any other situation and I'd firmly suggest taking Kolchek’s side, but not this time."

"Very well, we'll keep this small. If it goes south, I'll pull the plug and we'll bug out."

"With all due respect, sir. I think that's the wrong call." Kolchek was restraining himself, firmly believing that air support was needed. Not yet knowing how exactly Sally's advice was more credible than his own, as a first lieutenant.

"With all due respect, lieutenant Kolchek, its not your desicion to make." Sally looked down at her phone, clicking her tongue and turning to leave the room as Eric started to finish the briefing.

Honestly, between her team and this one, Sally was running tired already. Most of her social interactions were short and to the point if they weren't good friends or a business deal. Even her students tired her out, still, she pushed on and made use of the time.

Hunched over the laptop with the download ready, Clarice asked through the comm where she had gone only to find Sally furiously tapping away at buttons on her phone. Looking up only briefly to stare at the first lieutenant's rear end as he made way to board the helo.

"Nice view, Sal?"

Sally grinned at Clarice, snapping her phone shut and slipping her arm through the other strap of her backpack. "Wonderfully firm view, Clar." The girls shared a laugh, boarding the helo together, sitting across from one another.

Once more, Sally was reminded why her tolerance for the military was low. As Joey and Merwin cracked 'Yo mamma' jokes and other kind of filth on the journey further into Iraqi territory. Turning hypocritical when Kolchek stood slightly to talk to Sergeant Kay. Slightly leaning over and making eye contact with Clarice to give the woman a suggestive eyebrow wiggle towards the backside of the first lieutenant.

Watching Kolchek order his team to be cautious and hold fire when they landed and disembarked was points in Sally's good books. No need to be aggressive on such a small huddle of houses.

The Iraqi's were subdued without casualties and Sally was free to explore as Eric and Rachel left her alone. Merwin and Kay were stationed outside a house when she finally rounded into the more occupied spaces. Rachel was storming into another house with Jason following leisurely around behind her.

"What in God's name are you doing, lady?" Merwin was rightfully confused. Sally was crouched to the floor, shifting her hand throw the loose dust and rocks.

"I'd be wary with the floor. It seems... unstable in a way."

"This of any interest to you?" Kolchek called to Sally, having disappeared for a moment. "Was gonna ask Rachel what it meant but it seems more up your street." Sally stood from her crouched position and turned to Kolchek. Wiping her hands free of the dust from the ground as her eyes lit up at the sight of what he had.

"Oh! Kolchek, it's not even my birthday!" She gently swiped the stone tablet from his hand, marvelling at the masterful carving. Kolchek smiled in a way that said 'you're welcome but I'm so confused' as he followed Rachel's path into the other hut.

Sally deposited the tablet into a nearby truck, making sure it would be safe from enemy combatants that were sure to arrive. Preparing her own weapons, Sally fixed them to the harness around her waist before grabbing the standard automatic that the marines were using.

Not long did she praise herself for the decision as the enemy decided to show up. From somewhere over yonder she heard Joey had been hit, rounding a hut to see Kolchek vaulting over a short wall.

Aiming, her bullet ran true to a Iraqi that tried to pop out early to kill Kolchek. Kay had got to Joey but Sally didn't see the man writhing in pain like he should've been. Eric's voice lifted the radio silence in her comm as he asked for a sitrep moments before the ground beneath her feet rumbled.

"I swear, if one of you said 'can this get any worse' ill shoot you in the face. Eric, that seems like a you thing."

The ground continued to give periodic tremors until finally it gave in. The dirt cracked and fell inwards as easily as thin ice. Sally could could hear yells, call for her, calls for Rachel. Until the floor beneath opened up and swallowed her as well.

****

Sally, 1902 hours.

Sally groaned as she got up, holding onto her side that was now bleeding. Top ripped on the left at her waist and her legs aching like hell was all she needed right now. Using a quick medical kit she'd packed away, Sally bandaged her side and pulled the top over it, covering as much as she could to make sure none would know of her wound.

There was no need to be fussed over.

Looking around, she assumed the cavern she fell into was not going to be stable enough to climb out of. There didn't seem to be any firm looking walls and she didn't have her shoe grips or axes to climb the angles.

With no choice but to go forward, Sally started walking. Pistols at her hips, gun in hand and her backpack secure, Sally fell into a mode she hadn't gone into for a while. The caverns were silent but eerie, as though something was watching her from the shadows.

The recent cave ins disturbed the structural integrity of the area she'd fallen into and yet she was wary. Were the falling stones and disturbed dust from her...or something else?

She heard yells further into the caves maze of halls and dead ends. Along with a sound unlike what she had heard before. Clicking, somewhat like a dolphin and yet it was also hissing like a snake or cat. Together, the two sounds unnerved Sally as she hurried her steps , the sounds of inhuman noises getting louder, more angered and ravenous.

Gunshots.

There was an enemy but Sally didn't know what kind of enemy would make a sound that came right out of a horror movie. Coming to a room that had half collapsed on itself, Sally rounded the debris only to come face to face with a marine.

"Sally!" Kolchek barely had time to say as she gripped his tac vest and pulled him down behind the debris. Holding him against the large rock and shushing as Sergeant Nick kay appeared beside her and they all fell silent. Hiding.

Sally tensed and held her breath, ignoring her pain as she continued to grip his vest. Kolchek was amazed, more so convinced that she wasn't an Archaeologist by the look on her face. Stern, in control...waiting, she didn't seem scared in the slightest even when the creature came into view. Its black body was terrifying, elongated spikes on its back looked both sharp and dull simultaneously.

It's head was a distorted shape, it seemed to have gills that opened and moved in time with the clicking. Echolocation? Sally didn't know...but she wanted to. Kolchek himself didn't want to look at it, a small glance was enough for him to turn back and focus simply on Sally. She was staring blatantly at the thing, green eyes darting over its different features as he did the same to her.

She had her hair in a pony tail, bits that didn't reach the band were falling free. She was covered in dirt and she had a small cut on her forehead. All things considered he had been right back at camp, she was beautiful, even if she was far too interested in the strange creature trying to kill them.

Then as soon as it had come, the creature was gone...for the moment at least.

"Move." Kolchek said, getting up when Sally moved away. The three ran until they reached another fork, stopping just a second to decide the path when Kolchek was engaged.

The giant black blur swiped at him and tried to bite him. Sally and Nick raised their guns as Kolchek stabbed it, the triple assault overwhelmed it enough for it to flee, but hardly any damage was done to it.

"Fuck I hate this place." Sally pulled Kolchek up from the ground, keeping her eyes on where the creature had vanished into the darkness. Sally counted herself lucky that running was nearly a daily occurrence for her, otherwise she'd have run out of breath by now.

The cavern walls blended together, looking the same with each turn and yet, Sally thought they were going deeper into the creatures territory. She skidded to a stop as Nick and Kolchek turned to cover where they had just been.

"The hell's going on?!"

Sally rolled her eyes at Nick, choosing to say silent for the stupid question. "I don't know man. It was not supposed to play out like this."

"Any call signs, this is King! Contact! Contact! Taking fire! Does anyone copy, over."

"That's Rachel!" Sally's eyes narrowed at the emotion in Nicks voice after hearing the voice over the comm.

"King, this is mailman two-one actual. Say again, Over."  Kolchek repeated the words when he got no answer. Angrily ordering for the two to move as they had occupied the one spot too long, they didn't need monsters falling upon them because they kept stopping.

After a while of running, the sounds of inhuman clicking grew quiet. Sally slowed to a jog and lowered her gun, raising a hand to her lips when Nick opened his mouth to ask why she was slowing down.

The quiet noises drew to a close, silence fell over the space and the three of simply existed for a calm moment. Nick let out a breath, shoulders clearing of tension and his eyes filling with guilt.

"I killed him, man. I fucking killed, Merwin!" Sally's eyebrows raised at the information. She had heard yelling, perhaps that was Merwin before he'd gone.

"It was an accident!"

Nick didn't listen to Kolchek’s defence, continuing with his pity party of one. "Just like the woman at the checkpoint."

"Don't make this shit weirder than it is. Clear your fucking mind!"

Sally clapped the boys on their shoulders, giving a firm nod to Nick in agreement. "Kolchek's right. Shitty that Merwin's gone but there's point in dwelling on it or you'll end up just as dead. We should regroup with Eric and Rachel."

‘‘Right,’‘ Nick nodded, trying to calm himself but to little avail, ’‘You’re right.’’

‘’I’m hardly ever wrong.’’ Easing the tension more was easier with that. Nick managed a quiet laugh but none of them dared to speak to loudly after they just lost the monsters. 

Hopefully, Eric and Rachel weren’t too far ahead. 

[brelione]

Marvel Movies (Rafe,Topper,Kelce X Reader)

This takes place about a month after this.

Mentions of choking,fighting,Captain America Spoilers,Kelce being a Disney Hoe

Series Masterlist

You could hear the sound of “Lost In The Woods” from frozen two along with the sound of a car door shutting.You grinned,looking outside your window to see Kelce walking up to your front door.He had been obsessed with the sound track since you,Rafe,Topper and him had watched it last weekend.He swung open your door,pointing at you. “DONT YOU KNOW THERES PART OF ME THAT LONGS TO GO INTO THE UNKNOWN!”He sang,swinging his arms to the tune of the song that was now playing from his earbuds.

You smiled,taking out your phone to record him. “Kel,what are you singing?”You giggled,zooming in on his face. “Bitch,you already know!!!”He said it to the same tune,making you bite your lip to hold back a snort as you saved the video to your snap chat memories.He sat down nexto to you on the couch,pulling out his earbuds. “Rafe and Top are late?”He asked.You shrugged,checking the groupchat to check what time Rafe had left his house. “Kind of but like its fine.Its my night anyways.”You reminded him.Kelce nodded,pulling his legs onto the couch and resting them across your lap. “What are we watching?”He asked,looking up to see nickelodeon on the TV.

You smiled,telling him it was a surprise before throwing his legs off you and going into the kitchen to snack prep.He followed you,not wanting to watch nickelodeon. “Hey,do you remember those brownies we ate when we were little?Like the ones with the colorful chocolate things?”You asked,opening a bag of doritos and pouring the chips into a large bowl.His eyebrows furrowed as he thought about it,grabbing a capri sun from your fridge. “Debby Ryan brownies?”He asked.You turned to look at him,the empty chip bag in your hand. “Do you know who Debby Ryan is?”You asked,laughing at him.

The realization hit him,making him laugh too. “The girl from tik tok!The meme one!”He answered.You nodded,throwing the empty red bag away.You grabbed the bag of sharable m and m’s,pouring the colorful candies into a bowl as well before bringing them both into the living room and setting them down on the table.He somehow ended up laying down half on top of you,the back of his head resting on your stomach.You didnt even hear Rafe pull up,the door opening with him standing with a paper bag in his hand.You missed the way his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed at the sight of Kelce laying on you,he quickly covered it with a smile.

Topper was right behind him,you turned your head to look at the blonde.You immediately burst into laughter upon seeing the pink,purple,yellow and green striped shirt he was wearing. “That’s gotta be the ugliest shirt ive ever seen.”You grinned,running your hand over Kelce’s curly hair.He rolled his eyes,sitting on the floor while Rafe put the paper bag down on the table next to the M and M’s,pulling out the contents.Sour gummy worms,dark chocolate chips,werthers caramels and a can of your favorite soda.He held the can,sitting at the end of the couch by your head so you could rest your head on his lap.He held the cool can to your forehead,knowing that you liked the feeling of the coolness.

You removed your hand from Kelce’s hair,putting on Disney Plus. “OOH-are we watching Winnie the Pooh?”Topper asked.You laughed,shaking your head as you went down to the row of Marvel Movies.Rafe had only ever seen Iron Man 2 so he wasnt very familiar with the films.Kelce preferred DC and Topper just sucked.You eventually came to The First Avenger,pressing on it.You squealed as the movie started,excited to annoy your friends.

 “I have a husband in this one too.”You smiled,remembering your huge Bucky phase in sixth grade that Rafe couldnt quite understand.He had only seen your Winter Soldier hoodie so he didnt really have a good idea of who Bucky actually was besides the fact that you loved 

him.During the scene where Steve received the Serum Topper had sat up,glancing between Steve and Rafe. “Am I the only one that sees a resemblance?”He asked.You sat up slightly,Kelce moving off of you so you could turn and look at Rafe properly.

He blushed,turning his head and looking away so you had to cup his face and get him to look at you.He bit his lip slightly,looking down at you.Topper rolled his eyes,regretting bringing it up in the first place. “Steve is more handsome.”You grinned,returning to your place on his lap.Kelce broke into laughter along with Topper,Rafe just a red mess as you continued watching the TV. “Isnt Spencer your husband?And 10K?”Kelce asked.You nodded,still watching the movie. “I thought Spencer was the love of your life?”He waited for your answer.You rolled your eyes. “I can have multiple loves of my life.”You answered,still watching the movie. “Can you pause this?”Topper asked,looking up at you from the floor.

You paused it,a bit annoyed. “What?”You asked.He opened a bag of sour gummy worms,popping one in his mouth. “How many husbands do you have?”He asked.You bit the inside of your cheek,thinking about it.Spencer Reid,Newt,Draco,Percy Jackson,Jack Frost,Peter Pan,Zuko,Prince Eric,Kristoff,Aladdin,T’Challa,Killmonger,Dallas Winston. “Uh...16.”You answered.Rafe laughed,fingers brushing against his chin as Kelce just looked up at you with wide eyes. “Who?”He asked.You blushed,counting off on your fingers. “Spencer,Newt-”Topper interrupted you. “Who is Newt?”He asked.You glared at him. “Do you not pay attention on Movie Nights?Eight months ago we watched The Maze Runner,the handsome blonde boy with the british accent.”You explained.He tried not to laugh at your passion for the topic.

 “Draco Malfoy,Percy Jackson,Jack Frost-”You were interrupted again,this time by Kelce. “The animated dude?The albino one?”He asked.You sighed,nodding.Rafe’s eyebrows knit together,frowning down at you. “You have a crush on an animated albino?”He asked.You sat up,looking between the boys. “You’re gonna tell me hes not cute as hell?Dont even act like you’re not a simp for Meg,Rafe.You too,Kelce,I saw the way you looked at Elsa when she let her hair down!”You reminded the boy.Topper laughed,forgetting that you knew all his secrets. “Dude,you were in love with Ariel when you were 10!”You exclaimed,making the boy shut up. “Who else?”Rafe asked,still curious. “Um...Peter Pan,Zuko-”You were cut off once again. 

“Birth mark dude from Avatar?”Rafe asked.You huffed loudly,stealing the bag of gummies from Topper and eating one. “ITS A BURN!”You nearly shouted. “You have such terrible taste in men.”Topper rolled his eyes.You glared at him,biting hard on your lip. “Get out.”You told him.He bit back a smile,looking up at you. “What?”He laughed.You pouted. “Go stand in the rain for two minutes.”You told him.He shook his head until you got off the couch,grabbing his hand and dragging him to the door. “You’re being mean so you have to stand in the rain.”You told him,opening the door.

He blushed,stepping outside and into the rain.He would never do this for anyone else but the smile on your face was worth it.Rafe looked outside the window,recording Topper standing in a T pose as water drenched his ugly shirt and hair.Once the two minutes was up you opened the door again,letting the wet boy come inside.He smirked before hugging you tightly,getting you completely wet. “TOPPER!”You shouted,pulling off your wet t shirt. “Dammit.”You huffed,pulling off your wet shorts and leaving yourself in just your bra and underwear. Dancing in bikinis multiple times so it wasn't that big of a deal but you didn't notice their wandering eyes. You turned to walk upstairs to change into new into new pants while top or just stood a blushing mess. 

At this point you'd forgotten about the movie and you were more focused on annoying your friends.Topper  knew better than to sit on your couch in wet clothes but unfortunately he hadn't brought a new pair to change into. So when you return downstairs in a tank top and pajama bottoms you saw topper in just his boxers sitting on your couch watching the movie.You went to sit on the couch,being pulled into Topper’s lap.When the scene of Bucky falling off the train came along Kelce had become attached,standing up to shout at the tv while you started crying a bit,Topper kissing your forehead lightly. “WHERES THE NEXT ONE?”Kelce asked.You grinned,grabbing the remote and moving on to Winter Soldier. 

“Theres like a ton of movies between these two but like we can watch those eventually.”You shrugged,ending up wedged between Rafe and Topper,Rafe’s fingers twisting your hair and tracing figure eights along the back of your neck. “On your left!”You spoke at the same time as Sam,grinning.Kelce grinned. “So thats why you always say that!”He put the puzzle pieces together.When Nat pulled up you saw the way Topper’s jaw dropped,you smiled. “I know,right?Shes like really fucking pretty.”You grinned,head against Rafe’s chest.Topper had began to doze off when Bucky came on with his metal arm,waking up fully again when he heard you whisper “He could literally choke me with his metal arm.”under your breath.He burst out laughing for a reason that Rafe nor Kelce could understand,plotting to use it against you in the future.

Somehow Topper had managed to fall asleep against your leg while Rafe had gotten you onto his lap,your head in the crook of his neck as you watched Steve get the living shit beat out of him.Kelce was on the edge of his seat,completely invested in the story. “Can we watch the next one?”He asked.You smiled,pleased with his excitement. “Tomorrow morning,okay?”You asked.He huffed but nodded,grabbing the blanket he usually used.Rafe pulled a blanket over the two of you,allowing you to sleep on top of him.The four of you must’ve slept in pretty late,waking up to your 1 P.M alarm that told you to take your daily vitamins.You groaned,attempting to move but being held by Rafe.

You yawned,seeing Topper in his deep,drooling double-chin sleep.You flicked Rafe across the head so he’d wake up,the brunette waking with a grumble. “Rafe,you gotta let go.”You smiled,kissing his nose tiredly.He grinned,letting you off his lap.You shook Kelce’s shoulder as you walked by,your shorts riding up.Kelce got up with a groan,the blanket rolling around his body like a burrito as he stumbled into the kitchen.You got yourself a glass of water,putting your four vitamin pills into your palm.He watched as you took them,grinning at you. “Good girl.You want breakfast?”He asked.You shrugged,still tired.Topper walked into the kitchen,wiping his face of drool and carrying the bowl of m and ms.

 “Hey,do you still have those frozen strawberries?”He asked.You nodded,watching as he grabbed the bag of fruit from your freezer along with almond milk,whipper cream,hot fudge and banana. “Where’s Rafe?”Kelce asked,his question being answered by the universe when the Steve Rogers look alike walked in,turning on the keurig.Kelce put some bread in the toaster,taking out the eggs and a frying pan and starting to make some scrambled for Rafe,some fried for you and an m and m omlet for Topper.Speaking of the blonde,he was pouring frozen strawberries,fudge,banana slices and almond milk into the blender,switching it on and dancing to the sounds of the strawberries being crushed.As the eggs began to cook Kelce quickly handed Rafe his mug before grabbing a glass,putting a layer of m and ms and whipped cream at the bottom,adding two spoon fulls of sugar,some milk and mixing it all together until it was a colorful slop,pouring ice in the cup before brewing some italian coffee to top it off.

As it brewed he rushed to flip the eggs,cursing when he realised the edges were burnt.He tossed it onto a plate,sprinkling some italian seasoning on it and taking the toast out of the toaster for you.He grabbed a jar of your favorite jelly,spreading a thin layer on both slices,reaching over Rafe’s head to hand you the plate.You thanked him,ripping the slice of toast in half.Topper turned off the blender,pouring its contents into a glass and making a huge mountain of whipped cream before sitting across from you.You smirked,reaching your fork over to get some whipped cream.He gasped,jaw dropping as he stared at you. “So you’re gonna put me in the rain for two minutes and now youre taking away my whipped cream?Do you wanna fight?”He asked,leaning forward.

You used your fork,knocking over the mountain of whipped cream before getting up and running down the hall.He ran after you,grabbing you by your wrist and pinning you against the wall of the guest room,panting.You two stared at eachother for a while,his bare chest pressed against you.His eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips,leaning down so his forehead was pressed against yours.So much was happening at once,you couldnt even comprehend it.But then from the kitchen you heard an argument starting,Topper letting go of your wrists as they two of you went back to the kitchen. “The third one is the best!” “FUCK YOU IN THE ASS,BITCH!”You walked in,looking between the two boys. 

“What is going on?”You asked.Kelce looked over at you,spatula in hand. “Which Descendants film is better?Two or Three?”He asked.You shook your head,sitting back down to eat your toast. “Fuck-dammit,Topper!You made my toast untoast!”You exclaimed,waving the uncrunchy bread.Kelce frowned,eyes softening. “Do you want me to make you more?”He asked.You shook your head. “No,its fine,Kelce.”You grinned,taking a sip of your coffee.It was sweet and creamy and pretty good,somehow Kelce always made the best coffee no matter what he put in it.Rafe looked between you and Topper,sensing that something had happened in the room.He hoped that Topper wouldnt intentionally hurt him like that,hoping Kelce wouldnt either.A plate of scrambled eggs was put in front of Rafe along with a bottle of barbecue sauce,making you stare at him in disgust. “I cant believe you put barbecue sauce on your eggs.”You shook your head,taking a bite of the toast and getting excited when you heard a crunch. “Oh-hey,dont worry!It didnt untoast”You grinned,enjoying it.

@sexytholland​ @28cnn​  @popcrone818​ @fttayla​ @cherryobx​ @n1ghtsh4d3-67​ @drewstarkeyobx​ @poguestyleskye​ @judayyyw​ @jjtheangel​  @outerbongs​  @copper-boom​ 

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[pochapal]

I hate doctor 11 but ive never been able to explain why in like words lmao. He feels like such a mary sue character imo and like theres something about his characterisation that was always just really ineffective (like the stuff about fishfingers and custard or whatever it was). Imo i'd love to hear you give top 5 worst things about the 11 era because i rlly just love when it gets torn apart

i hold nothing but a seething contempt and loathing for that man. every time he appeared on screen i felt ready to snap like a riled up chimpanzee in my enclosure. i am frothing at the mouth and overcome with a desire to start flinging heavy objects. this might be incoherent and inconsistent but i started this rewatch in feb 2020 and only finished this week so i got through 11′s episodes last august/september time and i refuse to revisit it to jog my memory or fact check anything i’m saying here because this man does not deserve the space in my mind for that.

the first thing is i can’t fucking STAND the quirky whimsy timey wimey bit he has going on all of the time. i can’t even say this is because this is a kids show and i was a teen and then adult when i first properly watched him but actually!! when i was eleven years old i’d sleep over at a friend’s house most weekends and it always coincided with the airing of a new season 5 episode and i remember we watched the finale with the dumb time hopping to get out of the box prison that was never explained and didn’t make sense and i thought at the time “this is really stupid”. and before that my only other doctor who exposure was watching the david tennant christmas specials with another friend and throughout childhood my only opinion on doctor who was “this is a tv show that is not for me but is one that all the boys i am friends with like so i will put up with it to maintain our friendships” but at least those episodes were both suspenseful and engaging enough to keep me watching all the way through. like who the fuck does an end of the world sci fi plot and approaches it with an “oopsy woopsy i am a funny little alien man who is going to stop you all by making you do a hecking silly” like it’s unneeded and self-parodies an already cheesy show to the point where it becomes unwatchable and makes it impossible to ever take this man seriously.

next thing that downright sucks ass so badly is the stupid fucking overwritten constantly escalating plotlines. like everything from season 5 up until his regeneration at the end of season 7 is meant to be this grand interconnected cosmic plot about how...the doctor trying to bring back his planet will end the universe or something so all the top powers across all of reality tried again and again to stop him from doing that except he doesn’t know what’s going on so he keeps thwarting these people who supposedly mean good?? i mean i sure don’t fucking know what they were trying to say!! like for some reason we never get the doctor suddenly becomes this superdemon that threatens everything so these people (whoever they are) decide to, in sequence: suck him through a time rift to erase him from existence, trap him in a prison and remake a universe without him, take his companion’s baby and turn her into a perfectly trained doctor killer, form two(!!) secret societies to hunt him throughout history that are only stopped by his companion splintering herself across his personal timeline to protect him, and repeatedly cause reality collapsing events because it’s a kinder outcome for the universe than what he will do. this grand and terrible event turns out to be...he spends a few hundred years chilling by a rift that leads to his home planet and protects a few generations of children from monsters which convinces them to give him infinite regeneration power then fuck off back to their pocket universe. and it’s like!! what is the point of anything that happens in this man’s era when everything is always “the darkest moment” or whatever the fuck!! i don’t care!! we never get a compelling reason to believe this bumbling clown of a man could ever be a universal threat!! the whole thing is so dumb i hate it!!!

thing number three i hate is how the eleventh doctor is ALSO characterised as this abrasive egotistic male supergenius to the point where he becomes genuinely indistinguishable from bbc sherlock. genuinely who enjoyed seeing this guy constantly tell people their tiny human minds can’t comprehend what he’s doing and then basically just wave his magic wand to solve whatever problem each episode is facing. 2012 is the year of human sin because this fucking shitsmear character archetype somehow became both a redditor role model AND a tumblr sexyman and it’s like!! nobody is enjoying this stop making this seem cool! him saying timey wimey thing any time he does anything is frustrating and dumb and locks the viewer out of giving a fuck about anything that is happening! smartest man in the room syndrome is a disease and the eleventh doctor is terminal with it. like remember how they established river as an accomplished scientist (when she wasn’t being a child soldier or a time paradox or whatever the fuck) and every time that came up mr doctor eleven man was like “oh this thing is obvious because i’m a genius and you didn’t realise because your brain is tiny so get out of the way and let the grownups think” or that time it turned out amy had been replaced with a slime clone for half the season and the doctor chewed rory (audience surrogate) out for somehow not realising this fact we didn’t know right from the start and like. this served no purpose other than to draw into severe question why the doctor is also this super beloved magical figure implicitly trusted by all children everywhere like. mr steven moffat is totally allergic to writing and solving mysteries in his tv show and fuck you for wanting to figure things out as you go along based on the new evidence you uncover at strategic plot intervals just let this asshole man use magical thinking to reveal he knew the answer all along and you’re a fucking idiot for not also realising this thing which had no basis or precedent anywhere else in the show.

speaking of dumb things let us not forget the absolute shitshow that was minority representation in this era. i’m not even talking about the low hanging fruit of how genuinely unironically sexist amy and clara were written where each episode moffat either seemed to loathe them or was incredibly horny over them and they had no character growth or arc or fucking anything. i’m talking about how fucking shit terrible the incidental representation was. god remember how every single fucking gay person who appeared in this era was written as one incredibly fucking stupid joke and how the women were all either sexy dominatrix, feeble girl in love, or Mother (or all three in some really terrible cases) and i’m not qualified to talk about this but also how incredibly white this era was and how on two separate occasions we had monarchs reimagined as sexy girlbosses with a gun played by black women who the doctor leched over. nothing about any of this was good ESPECIALLY coming off the back of rtd who was surprisingly forward thinking for 2005 and did a really good job of positing travel with the doctor as queer allegory. in comparison moffat gave us THE MOST heterosexual shlock i’ve ever had to endure. amy and rory could have been interesting characters were they not hemmed into this domestic bickering young straight married couple bullshit that was in no way changed or altered by traveling with the doctor except for the quasi incestuous river song reveal that was dumb and bad and stupid.

the last major mega gripe i have with the series is moffat’s fucking jingoistic boner for british military aesthetics. this carried over throughout his entire tenure as showrunner but was super terrible vomit inducing in eleven’s era. the unironic admiration for ww2 britain and winston churchill is downright wretched. are you incapable of telling a second world war story outside of churchill’s london and plucky blitz fighters. shit gives me hives so badly. and then!!! that weird church owned army that features in the future that end up being bad not for the concept of what basically amounts to an imperialistic intergalactic rendition of the fucking crusades but because they’re part of the nonsense go nowhere puzzlebox narrative that says the doctor is a not good man who will do bad things to the universe :(. remember how rtd’s doctor was a freshly traumatised man hot off the war criminal press who time and time again vehemently refuses to engage in military violence, but who tragically inadvertently turns every one of his companions into soldiers in his own personal army, and he has this moment of complete horror at the realisation and it is this which causes the downward spiral that ends in 10′s regeneration. and then how there’s this cringe line about how there’s a force of people who are “the doctor’s army, always ready to fight his battles when he’s not around” or some shit and then it turns out this is actually massive literal military operation and we’re meant to celebrate this. fuck off.

bonus round because this needs to be said but i have never hated anything like i hated that fucking human tardis episode. everything about it induced violent anger in me from the sickening overindulgence of that softgoth dark whimsy helena bonham carter tim burton aesthetic to the bafflingly terrible evil carny stereotype of those junk scavengers to the overblown sudden tragic shipbait romance of human tardis and the doctor. every word out of her mouth was trite shit and the fact that the death of her body was presented as this super emotional dramatic scene despite there being no buy in or incentive to care and the fact that every single person on tumblr in 2012 ate that shit up like it was fucking gourmet. i loathe every single thing about that episode so much.

[voidselfshipp]

Late night cuddle calls

Cw:mentions of f*od and ab*sive m*ther.

Ok to rb

The moon was hid by the dark stormy clouds, the savage wind ran amok the city Howling like a wolf, hitting the window of every appartment it went around,thunder strikes the Sky with a roar, smaller,lightins follow suit Briefly illumating the heavens now darkened.

Its late already.

Jerico turns and tosses around her sheets unable to fall asleep,resting on her back, hands behind her neck, she sighs hesitantly looking at her phone charging right besides her on her bed.

Would he still be awake?

She grabs it,turning it on,unlocking it and going to her most recent chat.

The contact reads "my sunflower🌻🖤" she smiles looking at the profile picture.

"Hey, you up?" She types.

Miles' phone rings as he drinks from his tea, hed be pulling an all nighter to finish some homework.

Checking his phone his expression turns into worry, its already so late, why was she up?

"Yeah I am, whats up?"

"I cant sleep,ive been trying for two hours....can you come?"

He hesitated looking that he was half way through his assigment, he sighed "yeah, be there in ten, ill go get us some snacks, not like I nees them cause youre the only snack I need" he then thinks it again deleting the last part.

"Ill be waiting, ill leave the Window Open"

He grabbed his backpack, putting his phone charger, some money and an extra pair of clothes just in case the rain caught him outside.

So he jumped out his Window,jumping around buildings to get some tea, snacks and maybe even a small plushie if he got lucky.

Exhausted, jeri sighed closing her eyes for a bit.

Her cat, Canela,sat on her chest purring. She chuckles slightly opening her eyes to pet her.

The rain had started to fall, in small harmless droplets, to then transform into a full blown storm.

Miles had just finished getting the last thing he needed, a small plushie of a dragon with intentional patches of different shades of red.

He knew shed like it.

A soft tap on the Window let jerico know miles had arrived, he enters taking off his jacket, he was drenched.

--hey babe-- he says leaving his backpack--hand me a towel?

--Heh sure--jeri gets out of bed walking sluggishly to a chair with folded towels.

--hey is that my hoodie?--he asked.

--it was your hoodie nows mine!

--you little thief!--He said playfully-- ill catch you!--He runs up to her lifting her up.

--oh noo Spiderman has caught me ohhh--both start to laugh--ill tell you what,If you have another set of clothes you go take a bath,I dont want you to get sick

--aw youre always takin care of me!--miles said kissing her--okay, ill go take a bath, mom--jeri rolls her eyes--oh I got you tea and your favourite snack, and a little gift okay babe?

Jers eyes are sparkling with joy running to his backpack.

He then proceeds to go to the bathroom in jericos room.

The girl opens the backpack to find the little plushie dragon.

She coos hugging It.

Miles just finished taking his drenched shirt off when his girlfriend Came to hug him from behind, she was warm-- thanks babe!!

--Ah its nothing...a bit of privacy tho?-- she nodds kissing his cheek and leaving closing the door behind her.

As she sits on the bed drinking her still somehow warm tea something catches her attention.

--needless to say I Keep her in check--miles sang followed by mutters of the parts he didnt quite know-- she was all bad bad never the less...

And so she sat there absolutely enamored, listening to her boyfriend sing.

Ten minutes later she handed him his fresh set of clothes and miles came out the bathroom in an oversized shirt, sweatpants and with red fluffy Slippers.

Jeri giggles making grabby hands.

--Im coming im coming--he said playfully grabbing his own tea and cookies sitting behind jerico,who then presses her body against his as he hugs her--whats been worrying you baby? Youve seem...off

Jer shrugged looking away-- nothing that I havent told you before..

He sighed hiding his face on her hair--theres not much i can do about it...but ill be here as long as you need me, and even then ill stick around...te amo jerico

--yo también miles

Both kiss, and spend the night drinking their warm drinks and listening to music.

Suddenly someone knocks on the door.

Miles climbs up the walls to a dark corner.

Jeris auntcle,vica enters the room--jerico?you okay?-They say in their british accent--heard noise from downstairs--vica looked up-- oh,hello miles

Miles sigh unsticking from the ceiling, falling on his feet hands on the pockets of his jackey-- oh hey vica, thought you were jericos mother

The brit scowls--after what she did the last time that...--they made a pause stopping themself from cursing-- shes no longer allowed around here, but anyway ill let ya ankle biters alone...

They closed the door and miles went back where he was hugging jerico tighter.

--What did your mom do last time she was here?

Jeri hid her face on his chest--awful stuff..she made this huge deal about some of my clothes, she even tried to forbid me from using those thigh hig boots

--the shiny black ones?

--yeah those!

--But those look so good in you!-miles said--what else?

Jer took a long sip from her tea-- her usual...awfull stuff, and also, do you remember how I said I was going to visit you after mom went back home, I couldnt go cause she got mad at me, just because I defended myself from her...,vica kicked her out and I didnt have the energy to go,im so sorry miles...

He hugged her tighter--you dont need to apologize, right now its you and me amor,no one else...

He lifted her face up by the chin and kissed her, she kissed back pressing her forehead against his.

After finishing their food they went to sleep.

Calming music playing in the background, contrasting And complimenting the chaotic stormy enviroment of the outside, as miles hugged jerico from behind protecting her from any danger.

Hed always be there to make her feel better, an smile appeared on his face as he heard the soft calming breaths that lured Him also in a peacefull sleep.

[calumcest]

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter one

[ao3]

have i ever mentioned my britpop au? i don’t think i have :) this is quite literally the definition of self-indulgence like genuinely this is so self-indulgent that it probably counts as a deadly sin and i have literally no justifications for it 

before anybody comes for me for starting another chaptered fic: i have 50k of this lined up and i’m still going at the speed of light (as sam can attest to) fear not we’re going to get there with this one i promise also for anyone still waiting for the soulmate au thats going to get finished too once this is out of my system 

i have an inordinate number of people to thank for putting up with me/this fic so let us begin: @tirednotflirting​ deserves every single ounce of praise and love i have to offer for reading this whole thing, listening to me talk about it, bouncing ideas with me, being so patient and kind about it, coming up with such brilliant ideas and for just generally being an all-round sweetheart. @calumftduke​ also deserves excessive praise and thanks for reading a big old chunk of this and being so sweet about it. @killingangels​ genuinely breathed life into this fic and cheered it on to the place it is today thank u for diving into a britpop phase with me. @ashesonthefloor​ and @clumsyclifford​ listened to me whine about this fic even though neither of them care and i truly owe them for that. @kaleidoscopeminds lets me thirst over the gallaghers but keeps me in my place about it which is truly the vibe check i need and also listened to me talk about this fic over the past few weeks and is just generally such a joy to speak to. i’m certain i’ve forgotten someone my brain has not been switched on in weeks now but anyone who’s listened to me talk about this over the past few weeks deserves a ticket straight to heaven honestly 

quick bit of vocab: our kid is a term used by siblings in manchester. not sure why i don’t understand mancunian culture myself but the gallaghers are always saying it in interviews and my mancunian friend concurred that it is correct so idk what goes on up there 

warnings: heavy drug use (its oasis and blur in the ‘90s theres a lot of coke/weed/alcohol) and lots of swearing (including the c word because they’re british)

-

He’s here, in England, not in Sydney, and he’s twenty, not seventeen. That was then, and this is now.

But for a moment - just for a few seconds - he could have sworn that then and now were the same thing. Just for one moment, he could have sworn he’d seen Michael Clifford.

-

or: calum's in oasis and michael's in blur and it's the height of the 1990s britpop war

Liam had once asked Calum if he believed in fate. 

“D’you think it’s all real?” he’d said one day, out of the fucking blue. Calum, though, used to Liam beginning conversations in the middle after two long years of knowing him, had just looked at him. 

“Do I think what’s all real?” he’d asked. Liam had indicated up at the sky with his eyes and cigarette. 

“Fate, and all that,” he’d said, lifting the cigarette back to his lips. Calum had watched as his cheeks hollowed around it, turning potential answers over and over in his mind. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he’d said eventually, and Liam had raised his eyebrows and nodded as he’d exhaled a cloud of grey smoke that had blended in with the sky and the council houses. 

Calum thinks he probably should have known then. Maybe Liam had been trying to make a point, in that strange way he sometimes does - what are the odds you’d end up here, with us? Calum hadn’t given it a second thought at the time, just rolled his eyes and nudged Liam’s foot with his own and said Noel’s going to do his fucking nut if we’re not there in ten, and that had been that. The conversation never even crossed his mind again until it was too late, until fate had already had her way with Calum. 

In Calum’s defence, though, fate never showed her hand. She never threw him any hints, no flashing neon signs that said Calum, your destiny is this way. Fate came piecemeal, came in short snippets of conversations or flashes of familiar faces or, on occasion, Liam and Noel swearing loudly at each other as they stomp up the stairs in Calum’s house.

“I’m arsed,” Liam’s saying loudly, when he barges into Calum’s room. Noel’s hot on his heels, midway through a spiel he’s clearly prepared which Liam’s having none of, and he turns to Calum when they get through the door, an annoyed expression on his face. 

“Tell him he’s a prick,” he says. 

“Why?” Calum says, setting his magazine aside, because he needs to know what he’s supposed to be endorsing before he picks a side in an argument between the Gallagher brothers. 

“Our kid wants us to miss the match tonight and go to some fucking gig,” Liam grumbles, throwing himself down on Calum’s bed and picking up his magazine. 

“It’s not ‘some fucking gig’, Liam,” Noel says irritably. “It’s the fucking Boardwalk. We’ve got to hear what else is out there right now.” 

“I told you, I’m fucking arsed what else is out there right now,” Liam says, flicking about five pages on from the article Calum had been in the middle of reading. “I don’t write the fucking songs, do I? Go on your fucking own. You’re a big boy, aren’t you?” Noel rolls his eyes and opens his mouth, and Calum’s Gallagher Explosion Incoming senses start tingling, followed swiftly by his Peacekeeping Skill Set activating. 

“Look,” he says hurriedly, before Noel can say something that’ll lead to a couple of black eyes, mostly because neither of the brothers have ever cared much about collateral damage and Calum values his bruiseless skin. “What if we start the match, and if City look like they’re going to lose, we go to the gig?” Noel closes his mouth, and then opens it again, and then closes it again. 

“Fucking whatever,” Liam grumbles, which is the closest they’re going to get to acquiescence from him. Calum stares at Noel beseechingly, because this is the best idea he’s got and pretty much the only one he thinks Liam’ll agree to, and Noel rolls his eyes, sighs dramatically, but then nods reluctantly. 

“City won’t fucking lose,” he mutters, as he sits down in the chair at Calum’s desk. “Not to a bunch of Scousers.” 

“Lost to Liverpool not four weeks ago,” Calum reminds him, and Noel scowls. 

“That second goal was fucking offside,” he says. 

“Ref was a fucking wanker,” Liam chimes in, from where he’s lying on Calum’s bed, still thumbing through the magazine. “‘Ere, what’s this, then?” he adds, with a grin, and turns the magazine around, tapping on the page. It’s a picture of a (very pretty) boy spread across a motorbike, and Calum rolls his eyes, snatching the magazine out of Liam’s hands. 

“Fuck off,” he says, but Liam’s just laughing, head tipped back on the bed, all full lips and bright blue eyes and long, dark lashes. If Calum hadn’t been doing lines with Liam for half of last night, he could almost believe the angelic innocence the boy gives off. 

“Looks like our kid,” Noel says, sitting down on the chair at Calum’s desk. Liam raises his head far enough to give Noel a two-fingered salute, but he’s still grinning, and Noel’s grinning too when he flips Liam off in return. 

Fucking hell, Calum thinks. It’ll take more than his three O Levels to fucking understand those two. 

 -------

 City end up conceding three goals in the first twenty-five minutes, and Liam’s the one who stands up, voice already hoarse from screaming at the TV, and demands they go out. Noel, never one to resist pressing buttons that only he can find on Liam, makes a snide comment about it, and Calum, to keep the peace, makes a comment about United, giving both brothers something to spend the entire bus journey to the Boardwalk ranting about. 

Noel gets them in for free, because he knows someone who knows someone who’d been a roadie with a band who had been on tour with the Inspiral Carpets for like, half a second, or something. Calum doesn’t really care how they get in for free, whether Noel gets them in by knowing someone who knows someone or by hiring a hitman on the bouncer, as long as they do get in for free, because he’d rather save his money for weed. 

The band that’s playing are immediately declared to be boring little fuckers by Liam, who beelines for the bar and only has to flutter his lashes twice before the pretty girl behind the bar sidles up to him with a coy look on her face. To his credit, though, he doesn’t linger after getting the drinks, weaving through the crowd to Noel and Calum with a mixture of shouted insults and threats at anyone in his path, three overfull pints balanced precariously in his hands. 

“You’re paying me back for these,” is how he greets them again, taking a sip from Noel’s before handing it to him. Noel just rolls his eyes, turning back to the stage and raising the pint to his lips. 

“Am I fuck,” Calum says, taking the other beer out of Liam’s outstretched hand. Liam scowls, but lets him take it, taking a sip from his own glass. 

“I’ll just smoke your weed, then,” he says, like he doesn’t do that anyway. Calum just shakes his head and turns back to the stage, where a new band are setting up, fiddling with their amps and mic stands. 

“D’you even know who these pricks are?” Liam asks Noel. 

“Don’t even know if they’re worth knowing yet,” Noel says. Liam shrugs, like that’s a fair point, and then a squeal of feedback makes all three of them (and the rest of the crowd) jump, causing loud swearing from at least eight people in the vicinity as their drinks slosh over them. 

“Fucking hell,” Noel mutters, shaking his hands off. 

“Evening,” the lead singer says, voice deep and rich. “We’re Blur, and this is Popscene.” They immediately launch into something that’s all guitars and overdrive and beat, and Noel’s soon tapping his foot along in interest, spilled beer forgotten, as the singer starts jumping around enthusiastically. They’re not standing anywhere near the stage, and the distance and bright lights combined with the movement are making the singer look more translucent than opaque, which is making Calum’s head hurt. He chooses to focus on the bassist instead, because Noel’s kind of got a point that they should be listening to what else is around, although he’s probably just looking for more people to nick ideas off. 

By the third song, though, Calum realises he’s really stood far too far away to get any benefit from watching the bassist - he can’t even tell whether he’s using a plectrum or not, and his eyes are already starting to hurt from squinting - and lets his gaze wander across the stage. There’s a guitarist wearing glasses, which Calum’s pretty sure Liam’s going to have a comment about that’ll involve the words ‘fucking’ ‘not’ and ‘rock ‘n’ roll’, with maybe ‘cunt’ chucked in for good measure. The drummer’s so far back that all Calum can make out is a shadowy figure behind the kit, and when the singer stands still long enough for Calum to see more than just a hazy figure all he can vaguely make out is what looks like very pretty features and blonde hair. 

It’s the other guitarist, though, that makes Calum stop, his heart stilling in his chest for the briefest of moments. 

He looks so familiar, messy blonde hair sticking up at all sorts of angles that Calum’s only ever seen on one other person, that it makes Calum’s stomach lurch. He’s got his face down, focusing on whatever they’re playing, so Calum can’t really see - not that he’d be able to tell from this distance, anyway - but there’s something that’s so achingly known to Calum that it makes him swallow, mouth suddenly dry. Even the guitarist’s posture is familiar, a little tense, a lot focused, with an edge of something cool and relaxed. 

Calum’s so mesmerised by the guitarist, heart hammering in his chest, that he barely even realises three more songs have come to an end until the band all stop, gather together at the front of the stage and do an awkward half-bow-half-wave to the crowd. There’s a smattering of applause as they straighten up, and the lights are too bright for Calum to see properly, but he sees a flash of a smile that looks so much like one he hasn’t seen in almost four years that it makes something electric shoot through him before he’s even processed it, and then they’re turning around and heading off the stage. 

“Fucking shite,” Liam says, over the sound of the crowd’s growing murmurs. “Would’ve rather watched City fucking lose.” They all know he’s lying. Liam’d probably rather cut off his limbs one at a time than sit at home to watch City get thrashed. 

It reminds Calum where he is, though, as he takes a sip of his beer with slightly shaky hands. He’s in fucking Manchester, in a dingy bar with two of the biggest pricks he’s ever met in his life, watching shitty bands play mediocre songs to avoid having to watch his football team get massacred by Everton. It grounds him, shakes him out of it, makes him remember that he’s here, in England, not in Sydney, and he’s twenty, not seventeen. That was then, and this is now. 

But for a moment - just for a few seconds - he could have sworn that then and now were the same thing. Just for one moment, he could have sworn he’d seen Michael Clifford. 

 -------

 They stay to watch three more bands, and then Liam’s in a fucking mood and even Noel’s had enough of the music, so they head back to Noel’s flat to drink and get high. Liam and Noel bicker the whole way there, first about whether or not Liam should be paying for all the weed Noel buys that he smokes, then about whether or not Liam had actually slept over last night or whether he’d been at home, then about whether or not the shirt their mam had bought Noel for Christmas had been green or blue. Calum offers his input on all of them, siding with Noel twice and Liam once, but gets snapped at to shut the fuck up by the both of them each time, making him roll his eyes as he kicks stones along the pavement. 

(“Noel’s a fucking cunt,” Liam had said to him once, fuming, after a particularly nasty argument that had ended in every bag of frozen peas being dug out of the freezer. 

“Yeah,” Calum had said. “So are you, though, mate.” 

“Don’t call my brother a cunt,” Liam had said, and Calum had rolled his eyes, picking up the now-defrosted bag of peas on the table and taking them back into the kitchen, where Noel was nursing his own black eye. 

“What the fuck is his problem?” Noel had said furiously. 

“You’re both twats,” Calum had said with a shrug, tossing the peas back in the freezer.

“Hey,” Noel had said sharply. “That’s my fucking brother.” 

Calum’ll never pretend to understand them.) 

They spend the night lying on Noel’s living room floor, pleasantly drunk and so stoned that Liam and Noel forget to argue for about three hours. Calum drifts in and out of sleep, listening to Liam and Noel mumbling to each other and remembering to speak once every twenty minutes or so, until Noel nudges him at what must be about five in the morning. 

“What’d you reckon?” he says, looking thoughtful. 

“About what?” 

“That band, tonight.” They saw five bands, so Calum would be well within his rights to ask which one, but somehow, he knows. 

“Good,” he says. “Interesting. Sounded new, y’know?” 

“Yeah,” Noel says, rolling on his side to face Calum. He hums, like he’s thinking Calum’s words over. “Liam reckons they’re not rock ‘n’ roll enough.” Calum rolls his eyes. 

“Liam reckons the fucking Stones aren’t rock ‘n’ roll enough,” he says, and Noel snorts, and it sounds so fucking ridiculous that Calum giggles, which makes Noel burst out laughing, and soon they’re cackling on the floor, tears streaming down their faces as they gasp for breath and clutch at their stitches. Liam, who’s been sleeping soundly, looking peaceful and tranquil and not at all like the guy who’d threatened to knock Calum’s teeth out for suggesting City should have played a different formation not six hours ago, stirs and opens his eyes, blinking blearily. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he mumbles, and then rolls over, and goes back to sleep. Noel glances at Calum, flushed and panting from laughing, eyes bright and gleaming, and that one look is enough to make the both of them collapse in laughter again, cheeks and sides and throats hurting. 

The next morning, when Liam wakes Calum up by nudging him in the ribs and saying get up, lazy bugger, we’re late for work, that’s what Calum remembers from the night before. He remembers laughter, Noel’s living room going blurry around the edges, and the pleasant buzz of alcohol, weed and two of his best mates thrumming through his veins. He doesn’t remember the boy on guitar in the Boardwalk.

 ------- 

 The next time fate has her way with Calum is a good year and a half later. 

They’re recording their first album, which Noel seems to think means he’s recording his first album and everyone else is just there to complement his fucking genius. He’s not managed to stop being a cunt for about six months now, and, not one to let Noel beat him in anything, Liam’s getting equally insufferable. The studio is a fucking battleground, and Bonehead always takes Liam’s side and Tony’s just fucking useless, and Calum thinks to himself at least twice a day: is this really worth it? Maybe I should’ve just stuck with construction. 

They’re getting there, though, and when it’s good, it’s fucking good. They can all sense that there’s something there, something new and bold and, as Noel in all his endless humility declares it one night, groundbreaking. They’ve recorded Supersonic, a song that Noel somehow wrote in about half an hour, recorded a video for it on the roof of some warehouse in London, and there’s something about it that none of them can quite put their finger on, something that feels almost overwhelming, feels like it’s bigger than them. They’ve even been on the radio a few times, been playing bigger and bigger venues, got a contract and management and all that nonsense, and for all the flaws that combine to make up the Gallagher brothers, Noel’s got a fucking knack for songwriting and Liam’s voice is unlike anything Calum’s heard before. 

The problem is that lately, it’s been bad more than it’s been good. They’d done sessions at Monnow Valley which had sounded like absolute shit, too clean and thin, and with every day that passed and every track that couldn’t be used Noel got more and more frantic, snapping at everyone who dared speak to him. Liam, never one to resist a fight with his brother, had risen to the challenge, and the fallout had been messier and dirtier and involved more collateral damage than even Calum had expected. It had culminated in a trip to Amsterdam which had ended before it even began after a fight broke out on the ferry. Calum remembers seeing Liam zooming past, a happy grin on his face, heading right for the middle of the action, and then twenty minutes later zooming past again, bruised and bloody, still grinning, being chased by a policeman. It had ended in Liam being deported, handcuffs and all, and a screaming match between the brothers in which both of them quit and were fired by the other at least twenty-three times. 

Since that, though, things have got a little better. They’ve started recording in Sawmills in Cornwall with Noel as a co-producer, and Noel and Liam have started talking again, and everyone had breathed out a collective sigh of relief when Noel had announced he was going to head to the shops and Liam had wordlessly got up to join him. Slowly but surely, things have started looking up. 

It’s in the middle of one of those sessions that everything changes. 

“Eeyar, Calum,” Noel calls, from the corridor outside. “Your mam’s on the phone.” Calum sighs - fucking hell, what does his mum not understand about we’re recording an album and I’m twenty-two years old, I’ll call you when I fucking call you - but puts his bass aside and gets up grudgingly, trotting outside to see Noel holding out the receiver for him. 

“I want you back in in ten,” he says warningly, like he’s Calum’s dad and they’re eating dinner soon, and Calum rolls his eyes and flips him off, which is as good of a yes as Noel’s going to get. Noel sticks his tongue out at him and heads back into the studio, probably to yell at Bonehead from the soundboard for being too loud, or maybe too quiet, or maybe too middling. He’ll find something. 

“What?” Calum says, a little irritably, lifting the receiver to his ear. 

“Hello to you too, Calum,” his mum says smartly. “I haven’t heard from you in over a week.” Calum rests his arm against the wall, and his forehead against his arm, and stares at his shoes. 

“I’m recording an album, mum,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound too annoyed. “We’re busy.” She makes a small hmm, a you should have stayed in a real job kind of hmm, but doesn’t push it. 

“Are you eating well?” she asks, a stern undertone to her voice, like she knows Calum’s diet right now is entirely liquid. 

“Yes,” Calum lies. He gets another disapproving hmm for his trouble which sounds like it might be the prelude to a speech about how he should stop wasting his time and come home and do a proper job and eat some vegetables, so he decides to change tack. “How’s home?” 

“Oh, home’s good,” his mum says. “Janet next door’s got a new man, invited us to the wedding next month - can you imagine? A wedding in March? I said to her, I said ‘you’ll be wanting to move it to May’, and she said ‘oh, we want an indoor wedding anyway’.” Calum hums noncommittally, because he has absolutely no idea what that’s supposed to mean. What the fuck’s wrong with an indoor wedding in March? “Anyway, your dad and I have decided to go. Janet extended the invitation to you, too, but I said I didn’t know if you’d be back from your recording session.” 

“I don’t know either,” Calum says. “Noel’s being a right cunt about the whole thing.”  

“Calum,” his mum says reprovingly, like she wasn’t the one he picked the word up from in the first place. “Well, regardless, you’ll be home by April, won’t you? I told your dad you’d help fix the wall in the garden.” Calum groans, because that’s pretty much the last thing on the list of things he wants to do, including having Noel claw his eyeballs out for fucking up the bass on Supersonic again, and his mum tuts. “You’ve got experience in construction, Calum. You should put those skills to good use.” 

“I’ve never fixed a fucking wall, mum,” he says. 

“Well, the wall needs fixing,” she says, like that’s that. The wall needs fixing, so Calum’s got to suddenly develop the skills to do it. 

(For her, though, Calum’ll do it.) 

“What’s wrong with it?” he says, already mentally ringing up the cost of the bricks and mortar he’s going to need. “Looked fine last time I was home.” 

“I think the ivy must have loosened the cement,” his mum says. “I was watching TV the other night - I saw Michael on Top of the Pops, actually - and then-”

“Hang on,” Calum interrupts, because he only knows two Michaels, and one of them’s here in Cornwall with him. “Michael who?” 

“Michael Clifford,” his mum says, like it’s obvious. “Anyway, then I heard a huge crash outside, and I told your dad to go and take a look, and he said the wall had caved in. Just a bit, you know, near the shed, but-” she’s still talking, something about foxes and de-weeding the garden, but Calum’s not listening. 

Michael Clifford, she’d said, like it was simple and obvious. Like it stood to reason that she saw him on Top of the fucking Pops. Like it made sense that Calum’s childhood best friend, his fucking everything from the age of seven to seventeen, was on a British music show. 

“Michael Clifford?” he repeats, in the middle of whatever his mum’s saying. 

“Yes,” she says, sounding a little annoyed that Calum’s not listening to her impassioned speech about ivy. “Anyway, your dad said he’d need some help with it, and that it can wait until you’re back. But I want it done as soon as you are, because I don’t like the idea of Janet being able to see into our garden. Oh, that’s the chicken done. Call me in a few days, let me know how things are. Give the others my best. Love you.” She doesn’t even wait for a response, just hangs up, leaving Calum staring at the floor with a dial tone ringing in his ear and a name bouncing around in his mind. 

It can’t be him. She must have been mistaken. What the fuck would Michael Clifford be doing on Top of the Pops? What the fuck would Michael Clifford even be doing in Britain? The last Calum had heard from him, about a year and a half after he’d left Sydney, Michael had been sure about becoming a policeman. He’d seemed so dead set on it, had signed himself up for the academy and everything. Calum might not have heard from him in almost half a decade, but he’s pretty sure nobody would stray so far from ‘policeman in Sydney’ to end up at ‘musician in Britain’. No, he thinks, shaking his head and pushing himself off the wall with his arm, his mum must have been wrong. She hasn’t seen Michael since they’d moved from Sydney five years ago either, so it’s understandable that she’d mixed him up with someone else. 

But, a little voice says, as he heads back into the studio and is greeted with the sight of Liam sprawled across the sofa, laughing at something Noel’s just said, both of them looking far too high-spirited for Gallaghers, she watched Michael grow up. She knew his face better than you ever did. 

“‘Ere,” Liam says, interrupting the voice in Calum’s mind as it’s about to start reeling off a list of times Calum’s mum had spotted Michael in a crowd or down the road or in a photo before Calum had. “Noel says he’ll sprint around the house naked if Tony doesn’t fuck up his drums on this take. What d’you reckon?” 

“I reckon it’s a good thing Tony can’t fucking play drums then, isn’t it?” Calum says, as Liam drops his feet to the floor to make room for Calum on the sofa. Liam snorts, and Noel scowls, but his eyes are still lit up with amusement. 

“Well, I reckon you’re both cunts,” Noel tells them, and Calum grins, hoping they don’t see the way it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and reaches over for Liam’s beer to try and calm his churning stomach. 

 -------

 Calum can’t sleep that night. 

He’s usually so drunk that Liam’s gentle snoring doesn’t even register to him as he throws himself down on his bed, often fully-dressed, and falls right asleep, only waking up to fumble around for paracetamol in the middle of the night when his throbbing headache overpowers his exhaustion. He’s not used to lying there, stomach still unsettled, mind racing, staring blankly up at the ceiling, growing more and more frustrated by the noise of Liam sleeping. 

Liam rolls over in his sleep, mutters something under his breath, and then his breathing evens out again, and Calum times the minutes passing by the way he breathes in, out, in, out. The moonlight’s getting brighter - or maybe it’s the sun rising, he’s not sure - and eventually, when Liam rolls over again and smacks his lips in his sleep, Calum’s had enough. He gets up, pads out of the room and down the stairs, heading in the direction of the kitchen for a drink. 

He’s surprised, though, when he pushes the door open, to find Noel sat at the breakfast bar, a sheet of paper in front of him, still wearing the same clothes from the day before. He turns around at the noise of the door opening and mumbles something that sounds vaguely like a greeting to Calum, who grunts back at him as he grabs a glass out of the cupboard and fills it with water. 

“Can’t sleep?” Noel asks, and Calum raises his eyebrows over the glass of water he’s gulping down. 

“No,” he says, setting the glass down on the counter. “You?” Noel shakes his head. 

“‘S Bonehead’s fucking snoring,” he says, by way of an explanation, but Calum’s known Noel for five years now, and knows him better than that. 

“And that’s why you’re still dressed?” Calum says shrewdly. 

“Fuck off,” Noel mutters, raising a can of beer to his lips so he won’t have to say anything else. Calum sighs and shakes his head, but chooses not to push him on it, hopping up on the counter and swinging his legs. 

“You writing?” he asks, and Noel looks down at the sheet of paper under his hand, and shrugs. 

“Trying,” he says. Calum hums, and the two of them lapse into a comfortable silence for a while. 

It helps, Calum finds, to be with Noel. He’s never been a man of many words - neither him nor Liam have ever been particularly gifted in that area - but Calum knows he’s always safe with Noel, thrives in the quiet comfort of Noel’s presence. Noel never asks, never pushes, but he’s always there if Calum ever needs anything, and even though they never speak about it, they both know the same is true vice versa. 

(Calum can count on one hand the number of times he’s needed Noel, and can count on one finger the number of times Noel’s needed him.)

That’s not to say Noel doesn’t have his moments, though. He’s obstinate, brash, loud, arrogant, thinks his opinion is worth at least twelve times as much as anyone else’s, and takes himself far too seriously half the time. Calum’s had some of his most memorable arguments with Noel, edged out only slightly by how spectacular his arguments with Liam have been. Both of those, however, are eclipsed by how fucking nuclear the arguments between Noel and Liam are. The two of them bring out both the worst and the best in each other, grating at each other’s virtues and soothing each other’s flaws. They don’t know how to be happy unless they’re dancing along the line between love and hate, and Calum’s not sure it’d work any other way. He’s seen them in their brief, private moments of peace - Liam’s head on Noel’s chest, Noel’s arm wrapped around him, Liam murmuring something about a song or a memory that makes Noel snort, which in turn makes Liam’s lips curve up in a proud smile - but neither of their ships could sail anywhere without a restless sea to guide them. They need the fighting, need the bickering, even need the punches, to keep the wheels turning. A conversation’s not really begun if Noel and Liam haven’t called each other cunts at least twice, Calum thinks, and if Calum’s not been called upon by both of them to call the other a cunt within ten seconds of the inevitable argument breaking out. 

It had been an argument like that a year or so ago that had led to them traipsing to the Boardwalk to watch that band play. Calum remembers the energy they had, raw and a little off-kilter but something there all the same, remembers the lyrical shouting of the singer and the way he’d bounced all over the stage, but not as much as he remembers the guitarist. 

He’d looked so familiar, blonde hair and posture combining to make Calum’s heart ache like no music had ever quite managed to. It couldn’t have been him, though, he’d told himself. There was absolutely no way that Michael Clifford could have been playing in the fucking Boardwalk. Michael was in Sydney, back home, probably sunning himself on Bondi Beach and laughing at something Ashton was saying as Luke grinned at Ashton with wide blue eyes. Michael wasn’t in Manchester. 

Except, a little voice in his head says, maybe he was. Maybe Calum’s mum hadn’t mistaken some guy in a band on Top of the Pops for Michael. Maybe it was Michael. 

“D’you know that band we saw, a few years ago?” Calum says, out of the blue, before the thought to say the words has even crossed his mind. Noel looks up at him, thick brows furrowed. 

“Seen a lot of fucking bands,” he says, a little slowly, like he’s trying to figure out what Calum’s actually asking. Calum half-considers dropping the subject entirely, but Noel’s been in the business far longer than he has, and if anyone’s going to know, it’s him.

“The one in the bar. After the City match.” Noel purses his lips, brows creasing further, before nodding thoughtfully. 

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah. They’re famous now, they are.” 

“Oh,” Calum says, and swallows. That’s not what he expected - or, he finds, wanted - to hear. 

“Yeah. Heard their first record. Or maybe it was their second, I don’t know. It wasn’t all that.” 

“What’re they called, again?” Calum asks, hoping the question sounds innocent, but Noel’s eyes narrow a fraction. 

“Blur,” he says. 

“Blur,” Calum repeats, testing the word out, letting it sit on his tongue. 

“Why?” 

“No reason,” Calum says. Noel looks at him for a moment, like he’s weighing up whether or not to say something, but then seems to let it go, shaking his head.

“You’re a fucking odd one, you are,” he says, which is the nicest thing he’s said to Calum in months. 

“Cheers,” Calum says, with a grin. “Good-looking, too.” 

“Don’t push it,” Noel warns, and Calum laughs, swinging his legs. 

“What’re you writing, then?” he asks. Noel looks back down at the sheet of paper. 

“Don’t know, really,” he says. “Just can’t seem to get it right.” 

“Want me to take a look?” Calum offers. 

“You?” Noel says sceptically. “You barely even play a fucking instrument.” 

“Bass is a fucking instrument, you prick,” Calum says, only half-incensed. 

“You’re up there with the fucking tambourine player,” Noel says, but there’s a smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

“Fuck off,” Calum says, and Noel leans back in the chair, grinning. “You’re the one who bought him that fucking tambourine, anyway.” 

“Little twat might as well do something worthwhile,” Noel says, like Liam’s voice isn’t one of the two indispensable elements they’ve got. 

“At least I can play guitar,” Calum counters. Noel raises an eyebrow.

“Playing?” he says. “Well. If that’s what you want to call it.” Calum scowls and flips him off, and Noel just laughs and gives him a two-fingered salute in return.

“Go on, then,” he says, shoving the piece of paper to the edge of the breakfast bar. “Let’s see how much damage can be done to my genius.” Calum rolls his eyes but reaches over to pull the piece of paper towards him. There’s barely anything on there, just two lines: I can’t tell you the way I feel/Because the way I feel is oh so new to me. Fucking hell. 

“I’m off to bed,” Noel says, like he can sense the questions bubbling under the surface of Calum’s frown, and pushes himself back from the breakfast bar. Calum looks up, catches the brief look of don’t you dare fucking ask me what that’s about that flits across Noel’s face, just the most fractional chink in his armour, and nods, hopping off the counter and tucking the sheet of paper into his pocket. He should probably try and get some sleep too, if only because he’s going to have to be in the best frame of mind possible to deal with how insufferable Noel’s going to be tomorrow on three hours’ sleep. 

“I’m going to smother your brother if he’s not stopped snoring,” he tells Noel, following him out of the room. Noel snorts as he starts up the stairs, that strange mixture of derisive and fond that the Gallaghers manage so well. 

“You’ve got more of a fucking chance of him waking up a bird than you do getting him to stop snoring,” he says. Calum sighs, all long-suffering, like this is news to him, even though he’s been sleeping in rooms with Liam since they were seventeen and sixteen respectively.

“Good thing the tambourine player’s expendable, then,” he says, and Noel laughs, soft and quiet in the stillness of the night. 

“You’d be doing the world a fucking favour,” he says, but there’s a strong edge of pride and fondness that Noel only ever gets when talking about Liam, and Liam only ever gets when talking about Noel, and they never get when talking to each other. Calum thinks they’d probably both rather switch to being United fans than ever admit any semblance of love exists between the two of them, but it hums lowly beneath the surface, visible for anyone who bothers to look beyond the black eyes and hurled insults and weeks of refusing to even look at each other. No one can deny that the two of them fucking hate each other half the time, but without the push and pull of their relationship, without the back and forth and the give and take, the band couldn’t work. If the two of them ever lost that, if one of them ever pulled or pushed too hard, that’d be it. It should probably concern Calum more than it does that his entire career is poised on the knife’s edge that is Liam and Noel’s endless tug-of-war, but he's yet to lose the strangely settled feeling in his stomach every time Noel quits or fires Liam that tells him they'll be alright. You'll be alright. There are still better things to come. 

“You’re just saying that because you want to sing,” Calum retorts. 

“Nah,” Noel says with a grin, hand hovering over the door handle of his and Bonehead’s room. “I’m saying it because I want more royalties.” Calum rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning too. 

“I’ll see what I can do for you,” he promises. 

 -------

 As Calum had predicted, Noel’s a fucking nightmare the next day. 

He snaps at everyone who dares come within a ten metre radius of him, and, when everyone stops going into the same room Noel’s in, he specifically goes out of his way to find Liam to start an argument that ends in Liam complaining that one of his teeth is loose. 

(“It’s not fucking loose,” Bonehead says, and then decides to leave the room, presumably because he doesn’t want to deal with Liam’s moaning and whining. Calum can’t really blame him, and starts to shift surreptitiously towards the door himself.

“Since when are you a fucking dentist, you cunt?” Liam shouts after him, and Bonehead flips him off as he walks away. “You’re coming with me to the dentist, you are.” He’s rounded on Calum now, blocking the path to the door, and Calum sighs. 

“If we get more beer on the way back,” he bargains, and Liam nods.) 

That’s how Calum’s ended up in some posh dental surgery, spread out across a leather sofa and looking very incongruous in his oversized shirt and baggy jeans amongst the glass and the fancy-looking plants, waiting for Liam to come out of his appointment. It’s taking far longer than he’d expected - he’d thought it’d be a quick your tooth’s not fucking loose, you knob, you’ve definitely had worse, like everyone else had told him, but Liam’s been in there for a good fifteen minutes now, and Calum’s getting bored. 

The receptionist keeps making eyes at him, and Calum can’t tell whether they’re I want to fuck you eyes or whether they’re you look like you’re going to try and rob this dental surgery eyes, so eventually he picks up the nearest magazine off the coffee table and flicks it open to a random page just for something to look at that isn’t her. 

There’s a very pretty guy staring back at him when he looks down, blonde and blue-eyed and grinning inanely at the camera, and the caption reads BLUR: the cocky rebels you’re allowed to love. 

Blur. That’s what Noel had called the band from that bar in Manchester last night. They’re famous now, they are, he’d said.  

Calum barely even notices the way his heart speeds up as his eyes fly across the page, scanning the article for any mention of Michael before he really realises what he’s looking for. The author and the singer - Damon, apparently - keep referring to a Mike, an Australian Mike, which puts Calum right on edge, but Michael had never gone by Mike. He fucking hated it, corrected anyone who called him anything other than Michael, refused to respond to any teachers who tried to call him Mike, threw glowers at any classmates who did the same. He’d barely even let Calum call him Mikey in his most vulnerable moments, rubbing small circles on his back soothingly as he coaxed him to throw up all the cheap booze they’d nicked from the corner shop. 

Calum’s fingers are slick with sweat as he’s turning the page and his eyes are starting to water from how little he’s blinking, and he’s not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing, whether he wants Mike to be Michael or not. When he reaches the bottom of the second page, however, Calum’s heart stops. 

There’s a picture of the whole band. Damon’s standing second from the left, right arm holding his left bicep, head tilted upwards, looking lazy and effortlessly beautiful, like he fucking knows he’s worth looking at. It reminds Calum of Liam a little bit, the way he plays into the camera, the way he knows that with a small tilt of his chin and a slight lowering of his lashes he’ll have half the fucking nation on their knees for him. Maybe that’s just the way singers need to be, Calum thinks, eyes flitting to the ginger guy to Damon’s left, who looks a little uncomfortable, and then to the guy directly on Damon’s right; tall, broody-looking, dark hair swept across his face. To his right is a shorter dark-haired man, looking tense and on edge, and to his right is-

Michael Clifford. 

There’s no mistaking him. He’s got the same blonde hair still sticking up at all sorts of angles, the same sleepy, sea green eyes, the same pretty lips slightly parted in a pout. He’s holding himself confidently, miles away from the slightly scrawny teenager Calum had left behind, staring into the lens of the camera like it’s a challenge. Come on, Calum. Tell yourself I ever stopped mattering to you, go on. 

Calum doesn’t need to read the caption to know it’s Michael, knows it from the way he’s clutching his right wrist with his left hand, but does it anyway, one final, desperate grasp at a straw - from left to right: David Rowntree, Damon Albarn, Alex James, Graham Coxon, Michael Clifford. 

Michael Clifford. 

The words seem to sort of swim in front of Calum’s eyes, like they’re not really there, like his mind’s superimposed them on the article somehow, but the picture’s still there, clear as day. Michael, a hint of stubble on his jaw, face more angled and figure fuller and shoulders broader and God, he looks so fucking good that Calum’s stomach flips and drops and flips again. 

“-fucking hell, Earth to fucking Cal,” Liam says, sounding sort of muffled, and Calum nearly drops the magazine in shock, yanked back into reality so suddenly and jarringly by the sound of his voice. 

“What?” he says, looking up to see Liam with an irritated expression on his face, cradling one cheek in his hand. 

“Let’s fucking go,” Liam says, already halfway to the door. Calum stares after him for a moment, mind trying to process Liam wants to leave over the tangled jumble of Michael Michael Michael currently winding its way through every cell in his brain, before he jumps up, magazine still in his hand. 

“Sir,” the receptionist calls immediately, like she’s had her eye on him the whole time. “You can’t take the magazine with you.” Calum looks down at the magazine, and Liam turns around from the door, a slight tension in his posture that Calum recognises as the one he gets when he’s spoiling for a fucking fight. Christ, he’s not about to deck the fucking receptionist, is he? 

“Or what?” Liam says, a little menacingly. “You gonna fucking stop him?” 

“I just-” 

“What the fuck do you want with the fucking magazine, eh? Fucking paid enough for the appointment, buy yourself another." 

“C’mon,” Calum mutters, rolling the magazine up and hurrying over to Liam, putting a hand on the small of his back. “Let’s go.” Liam hesitates for a moment, like he’s torn between going to get beer or shouting at a receptionist, but eventually the alcohol seems to win in his mind, because he settles for throwing her one final glare and letting Calum guide him out of the door. 

“What’d they say?” Calum asks as they walk out, his hand still on Liam’s back, because he knows Liam better than to trust he won’t just change his mind on a whim and go storming back in to give the receptionist a piece of his mind for not wanting Calum to take a fucking magazine. 

“Don’t fucking know,” Liam mutters, pushing open the door to outside. Calum shivers a little when the cool late-February air hits him, and decides that Liam’s probably safe now, letting go of him to wrap his arms around himself as they head back to the car that’s been waiting for them. “Sounded like he said something about my flaps.” Calum snorts. 

“Bit forward of him,” he says, and Liam grins. 

“Why’d you take that fucking magazine, then, eh?” he says, rounding the car without looking into the road and flipping off the car that has to screech to a halt to avoid running him over. 

“What?” Calum says, a touch shiftily. “Oh. Saw a good article in it. Wanted to finish reading it.” Liam throws him a look over the top of the car, a look that’s unnervingly shrewd, but then shakes his head and ducks into the car. Calum does the same, taking a moment to tuck the magazine into his pocket and feeling it weigh down one side of him, unbalancing him just slightly. It’s kind of apt, he thinks as he gets into the car. Michael had always made him feel a little unbalanced, too. 

“Let’s get some fucking beer,” Liam announces, and Calum grins, trying not to think about the way the magazine feels pressed between him and the seat. 

“Let’s get some fucking beer,” he agrees.

 -------

 Calum doesn’t look at the magazine again until a good week later. 

He’s drunk, and maybe still a little high, which is the driving force behind the whole evening. They all are, because Liam had scored some great coke off some guy called Neville, which Calum had declared to be the funniest dealer name in all of history, leading Bonehead to admit that his weed dealer used to be called Barnaby. Noel had sided with Calum, claiming Neville was far worse than Barnaby, and, predictably, Liam had jumped straight in on Bonehead’s side, and after about two minutes of shouting Tony had mumbled something about not being drunk enough for this and slipped out of the room. 

“Fucking useless,” Liam says derisively, as Tony walks out. “I should fire him.” 

“I fired you two days ago,” Noel says, pointing at Liam with the card he’s using to cut up the coke. “You can’t be firing anyone.” 

“It’s my fucking band,” Liam says, incensed, like it’s not actually Bonehead’s band that Liam had wheedled his way into. 

“Who writes the fucking songs?” Noel counters. “You just play the fucking tambourine and look mardy.” 

“Fucking greatest frontman in the world, I am,” Liam says indignantly. 

“You’re too fucking high to find the front of the stage half the time,” Noel says contemptuously. 

“I know where the front of the fucking stage is,” Liam says, pointing at Noel with one hand and Calum with the other. “‘S between knobheads numbers one and two.” Noel rolls his eyes, too busy cutting lines to flip him off, so Calum does it on both of their behalfs, and Liam grins, swigging from his beer. 

“Save us a fucking line,” Bonehead says to Noel, who’s just bent down to hoover up at least four of the thin white lines on the table. 

“Get your fucking own,” Noel grumbles, like he’s the one who’d scored it, not Liam, but he lets Bonehead push him aside, slumping back against the sofa. 

“Greedy cunt,” Bonehead mutters, and Noel swats him upside the head, handing him the card. 

“We should have a fucking celebration,” Liam declares grandly, gesturing widely with his beer bottle. 

“For what?” Noel says. “Album’s not even fucking finished yet.” 

“Sounds fucking great, though,” Liam says. 

“Well, you’ve clearly not heard it then, have you?” Calum says with a snort, accepting the card Bonehead holds out to him and leaning over towards the coke. There’s not much left, but Liam’ll fucking do one if he doesn’t leave any for him. “Fucking hell, Noel. You a fucking vacuum?” Noel just grins and shrugs at him, cocaine clearly starting to settle into his veins, and Calum rolls his eyes, cutting two thin lines for himself and leaving enough for the same for Liam. 

“It’ll sound great once it’s mixed,” Liam insists, as Calum bends down.  

“That’s what you said last time,” Bonehead points out. 

“No I fucking didn’t,” Liam says, even though he’d literally spent about a week bouncing around saying it’ll sound fucking great when it’s mixed, just you fucking wait. It’ll be fucking biblical. Calum straightens, wincing slightly and pinching the end of his nose, and throws Liam a look. 

“You fucking did,” he says. Liam scowls at him, and motions for the card. “Come over here. No way you’ll reach the coke from over there.” Liam rolls his eyes but complies, heaving himself up and then throwing himself down next to Calum, making a noise of outrage when he sees how little is left for him. 

“What the fuck, Noel?” he demands, and Noel just cackles. Christ, he’s blitzed out of his fucking mind already. 

“We should fucking celebrate,” Noel says, like he hadn’t shot down Liam saying it not two minutes ago. 

“Celebrate what, you prick?” Calum says, wrinkling his nose as the bitter cocaine drips down his throat. Fucking grim. At least his mouth will be too numb to taste it soon. 

“Fucking all of it,” Noel says. “Us. Recording an album. The fact that we’re going to be number fucking one.” Calum snorts, but he’s starting to feel a little giddy, a little warmer, and he leans back with a grin. 

“Number fucking one,” he repeats, and Liam nods solemnly next to him. 

“Fucking right,” he says, like it’s what they’re owed. Calum catches Bonehead’s eye and grins, knows he’s thinking exactly what Calum’s thinking - yeah, us two fucking deserve it for putting up with the both of you. 

“Just wait ‘til we release Supersonic,” Calum says, shuffling up a little to rest his head on Liam’s shoulder. Liam’s arm comes around him, warm and comforting, and he squeezes Calum absent-mindedly as he hums contentedly. Calum lets his eyes flutter shut, euphoric and a little overheated, grinning to himself as he lets himself fantasise. Number fucking one, he thinks to himself. Fucking imagine. 

“Knock those Blur cunts off the top,” Noel says, and Calum’s eyes fly open. 

“What?” he says. 

“Their new song,” Noel says scornfully. “Fucking, what’s it? Girls who like boys who like girls who like boys, something like. Fucking shite.” 

“New song?” Calum echoes, mind trying to work around the cocaine to process what he’s being told. 

“Am I the only one who fucking listens to the radio?” Noel demands. “That’s our fucking competition, that is. We’ve got to knock them off the top spot.” 

“Competition,” Calum says slowly. Competition. Michael Clifford is his competition. 

And, fucking hell. Does Michael even know Calum’s his competition? Does Michael even know Calum’s in Oasis - does Michael even remember Calum? It’s been what, four fucking years now since the letters had petered out, since Calum had got too caught up in his new life of Liam and Noel and drugs and music and Michael had been too busy with his family and friends and the fucking police academy. Michael might not even recognise Calum, might not even remember his name. 

(Something tells him, though, even through the haze of drugs and alcohol, that they could never forget each other. After all, it says, who forgets their first kiss? Who forgets their first fuck? Who, it says, a little too knowingly for Calum’s liking, forgets their first love?) 

Liam seems to have sensed something’s up because he’s frowning, waving a hand in Calum’s face, and Calum blinks, shakes his head abruptly and sits bolt upright. He stopped loving Michael. He fucking did, no matter what the churning in his stomach might be telling him. That’s just the fucking booze.

“What the fuck’s up with you?” Liam says, sounding annoyed.

“Don’t feel great,” Calum says, which isn’t entirely untrue. The high’s too high, and the alcohol’s making his stomach clench and contract, and he’s sweating a little too much, and his hands are clammy, and- 

“Oh, fucking hell,” he says, a little faintly, and lurches to his feet, crashing into the bathroom next door and only just making it to the toilet bowl before he’s throwing up everything he’d ingested in the previous twenty-four hours. He’s glad he’s still high because it means he can’t quite taste the bile in his throat, can’t entirely feel the way his stomach’s heaving that he distantly registers is going to absolutely fucking kill tomorrow. 

Halfway through his retching someone appears behind him, kneeling down beside him and rubbing small circles on his back comfortingly. Calum feels fucking pathetic, slumped over the toilet bowl with tears leaking out of his eyes, someone making quiet, soothing sounds behind him, all because of fucking Michael Clifford. 

(That thought makes him retch once again.)

“Waste of fucking coke, that is,” the person says mildly when he’s finished, leaning up and flushing for him, and it’s Liam. Of course it’s Liam. No one else would willingly spend their short high in a tiny, cramped bathroom watching Calum throw up. Noel would probably lock him in and turn off the water supply, maybe grab a camcorder for good measure. 

Calum huffs out something that’s supposed to be a laugh but sounds like more of a sob as he sits back, wipes his upper lip and forehead and rests his head against the cool tile wall. Liam sits down opposite him, legs pressed against Calum’s because they’re both too fucking big for the bathroom on their own let alone together, and blinks at him. 

“Fuck brought that on?” he says, more curious than anything. Calum’s stomach lurches again, images of Michael smiling at him sleepily on a Saturday morning, of Michael with his head tipped back in detention, laughing at something Calum had said, and the picture of him in the magazine, so much older and yet so fucking familiar, flashing through his mind in rapid succession. 

“Probably just overdid it,” he says weakly. Liam gives him a hard stare. 

“A fucking baby would’ve had a hard time getting high on what you snorted,” he says. 

“Baby wouldn’t’ve drunk five fucking beers beforehand, though,” Calum says, coughing slightly and wincing as he tastes the echo of acid at the back of his throat. 

“Depends whose baby it is,” Liam says. “Pretty sure mine would.” Calum snorts, and lets his eyes flutter shut as he starts to come back to himself a little, shivering and wrapping his arms around himself as he realises how cold he is. Fuck, he’s all clammy. Gross. 

Almost as though he can read Calum’s thoughts, Liam nudges Calum’s knee with his own. 

“You’re fucking rank,” he says. 

“Cheers,” Calum says, not opening his eyes. 

“Take a fucking shower.” Calum pulls a face. He’s not in the fucking mood to shower. 

“Tomorrow,” he says. It’s not like Liam’s never done the same. 

“You’re fucking rank, ” Liam tells him again, like he’d not thrown up in the sink two nights ago and left it there overnight, but he puts his hand on Calum’s shin and pats it, and Calum offers him a weak smile. 

“You don’t have to stay,” he says. 

“What, go back in there and listen to our kid break his neck sucking his own cock? Don’t fucking think so,” Liam scoffs. “I’ll be fucking sober in five minutes, anyway, given the amount of coke you pricks left me.” Calum smiles again, a little less wobbly this time. 

“Sober?” he says. “You drank twice as much as me.” 

“Not all of us are fucking Aussies, though, are we?” Liam says, and Calum can hear the grin in his voice. “Might as well be a fucking southerner, you.” That makes Calum open his eyes a fraction, enough to glare at Liam. 

“Piss off,” he says. “You and your fucking Irish blood. I’d drink anyone else under the fucking table.” 

“Fucking right,” Liam says proudly. “Never met anyone who could outdrink me, let alone an Aussie.”

“You’ve never met any except me, you prick,” Calum says, and Liam grins. 

“Well, most of you fuckers are smart enough to stay where it’s warm and sunny and the birds are fit, aren’t you?” he says. “Only the stupid ones end up here.” Calum scowls, and kicks at Liam’s leg half-heartedly. 

“Fuck off,” he says. “Didn’t choose to move here, did I? Got dragged kicking and screaming.” 

“But you’re still here,” Liam points out, and Calum finds he doesn’t have an answer to that. At least, he thinks, not one he’s willing to give Liam. 

“You must miss it,” Liam says when Calum doesn’t answer, a little surprised, like the thought’s only just crossed his mind after five fucking years of friendship. Which, knowing Liam, is probably the case. 

“Australia?” Liam hums his assent. “Dunno. I guess. I miss Vegemite.” He hesitates, before adding: “Mostly miss my mates, though.” 

“Oh?” Liam says, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You still talk to them?” Calum shrugs, a little uncomfortably. After all, it had been him that had ignored the last letter Michael had sent him. He’s the one who hadn’t written back. 

“No,” he says. “Phone calls are too expensive, and none of us are fucked writing letters.” 

“Ah, well,” Liam says, stretching out on the tiles and sighing contentedly. “Just you fucking wait ‘til we’re number one. You’ll see them then. We’ll be touring Australia three times a year, and that.” Calum can’t help but snort. 

“Three times a year?” he says. “There’s only five fucking cities worth playing in.” Liam grins. 

“And you’d better have friends in all of them, mate,” he says. “Not bloody paying for hotels if I can help it.” 

“My mates are all in Sydney,” Calum says, and there’s a little tug in his chest as he realises that actually, that might not be true anymore. He doesn’t know what happened to Ashton and Luke, either. If Michael can go from police cadet in Sydney to fucking famous musician in the UK then Ashton and Luke are probably, like, astronauts, or something. Maybe he should check with the ASA. 

“What?” Liam says curiously, clearly seeing the expression on Calum’s face, and Calum hesitates.

He’s not sure whether he should tell Liam. What the fuck would he even say? My ex, sort of, is in the band Noel’s lining up as our competition? You know Blur? Yeah, I fucked one of the guitarists. Liam wouldn’t get it. Great, he’d say, eyes gleaming. Eeyar, you must have some good stories about him. You can embarrass him in the press. Or maybe, get in, mate. Infiltrate them, eh? Fucking good thought. Oi, that Damon’s alright, isn’t he? Maybe I’ll have it on with him. He wouldn’t understand the weight behind it, what Michael meant to Calum. Means to Calum. Fuck, he doesn’t know anymore. 

“I think a mate of mine might have moved over here,” Calum says eventually, when Liam raises an expectant eyebrow. It feels fucking weird calling Michael a mate. The word doesn’t feel quite complete in his mouth, like maybe there should be a soul prefixing it. 

“Oh aye?” Liam says, raising his other eyebrow too, like he knows what Calum might mean by ‘mate’. “Where’s he living?” 

“I don’t know,” Calum admits. Liam hums, like he’s thinking it over. 

“D’you want to know?” he says, in that strangely perceptive way he sometimes does. Calum shrugs, and hopes Liam doesn’t catch the tension in his shoulders. 

“Maybe,” he says. “Dunno. Depends.” He doesn’t elaborate, and Liam doesn’t ask him to. Instead, his emotional capacity probably filled for the night, he claps his hand on Calum’s thigh. 

“Want to see if we can get Noel to piss himself?” he says, eyes bright, and Calum can’t help but snort. 

“‘Course I fucking do,” he says, getting to his feet. Liam braces himself on the sink as he pulls himself up, a little unsteady, and grins. 

“Ten quid says he does,” he says, and Calum snorts. Noel had pissed himself once, three years ago, and Liam can’t fucking let go of it. 

“You don’t fucking have ten quid,” he says, following Liam out of the room, still feeling a little light-headed and woozy, but no longer nauseous. 

“Neither do you,” Liam counters, pushing open the door to the living room, and Calum has to concede there.

“How about the loser sucks the other’s dick, then?” he says, grinning, and Liam throws his head back as he laughs. 

“You’re on,” he says over his shoulder, eyes twinkling. 

“Who’s getting who to suck their dick?” Noel demands. 

“You’re helping me get Calum to suck my dick,” Liam tells him, throwing himself down on the sofa next to Noel and resting his head on Noel’s chest. Almost instinctively, Noel’s arm comes around him, holding him close. Calum could almost be fooled into thinking they’re in some sort of a truce, that the booze and cocaine have broken down the barrier of hatred between them and left only the underlying love, until Liam reaches forwards, picks up a bottle of beer and holds it to Noel’s lips with a wicked grin. 

“Drink up.”

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chapter two

[voltagesmutter]

KBTBB x OC Prologue

Hello all! My first go at writing on here, no smut yet but just wanted to build a base background slightly different to the actual story! Ending with your choice of character, so please let me know if theres a preference! Enjoy and I’m super excited to build this, especially with a more strong held character, also much smut to come for all!

OC does smoke lightly in this, but its to gain slight connection whilst writing Mamoura’s part!

\\

Abit of difference and twist to the storyline, still being brought by the bidders but quitting you of your maid job, you are now confined server in the penthouse where you also reside. The MC is unlike the story as she’s feisty and not as submissive as the traits of the story, she has a fight in her along with other skills. 

 \\

 ‘So, you’re telling us, you get to live here, FOR FREE, with 5 beautifully stunning men and there’s no catch?” Your best friend Rachel asks you, still shocked at the news you just told her. Pressing yourself you move from the lavished cream couch and head over to the immaculately clean open-spaced kitchen.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no catch,” You reply, you certainty wasn’t going to them you was brought in black market auction and these men now (as they repeatedly liked you to remind you) owned you.

 The reality was you was a maid at the hotel, about 2 years into the job, you joined at the ripe age of 20. It was never meant to be a long-term thing but the pay cheque was nearly triple the other monthly wages in the city and you were desperate for the money. Taking all the overtime you were able to became a bad habit over yours, working your fingers in the hotel. But the cruelness of the other staff at times had tempted you more than once to leave your job, especially Erika and Rina and Kana (or as you often referred to them Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb).  The constant remarks and degrading attitude they had towards you brought you tears at times though a cruel word towards them never left your mouth. You were better than that. Not to mention the often statements and remarks you received from hotel guests, most days you were cat called by men staying at the hotel and many offered payment to spend a night with you. You had always declined.

 The attention you received you was mainly due to these pesky uniforms Mr Ichinomiya had stated mandatory for the staff. A tight white button up shirt clung to your chest which tucked into a skin-tight black skirt which settled mid-way down your thighs but had a strong tendency to rise when you walked and bending over in this was mere impossible. You wouldn’t say you wasn’t attractive, but you also wouldn’t say you was beautiful either. You were quite pale, with naturally thick straight blonde hair that cascaded half way down your back with light blue eyes to match. You blame your paleness of the fact you were British, moving from the country to Tokyo at the age of 18. 

 So how did you end up in this position of living in one of the city’s most expensive penthouses with five handsome men to keep you company? It started like a normal work day, running out of your apartment throwing your hair into a sleek high ponytail trying not to be late. That was getting harder since the new uniform came into place, tugging at your skirt trying to keep it down. You reached the end of the corridor to the staff elevator and spammed the button, waiting for the doors to open. Come on, come on you cried in your head watching the numbers slowly reach your floor. If you was late again Erika would have your head! When the doors finally reached and opened you ran into the lift and waited for it to take you to the lobby. You arrived with a minute to spare before your shift and let out a sigh of relief. Your shift manager, Mr Ren, was at the front desk waiting you.

“I’m not late” You say to him before he can even make a noise. He shook his head and chuckled.

“No, you are on time, but there’s some new changes I need to go over with you, since it’s a big weekend and you know you’re working on introducing guests and presenting them to their rooms, Mr Ichionmiya has requested another uniform change,” He said before reaching behind the desk. Shit, you forgot this was the big poker weekend for the casino in the hotel and that you was introducing guests. Your eyes light up when you saw what Ren had pulled from the desk, a beautifully stunning pair of black stilettos, you dare think how much they had cost most likely more than your weekly salary. 

 “Size 5?” Ren said seeing the twinkle in your eyes. You nodded and sighed kicking of your normal pumps and slipping your feet into them one at a time. You tried not to curse at the pinching sensation in your feet. Today was going to be long you thought to yourself.

“So, what’s the plan?” You asked Ren, trying to find a balance in your new added height. Pulling out several ID cards and sliding them to you, he replied “Mr. Oh, Mr. Baba, Mr Kisaki and Mr. Kishi, will all be arriving in the next hour. You need to greet them and bring them to Mr Ichinomiya penthouse suite where they will be residing, use this key in the elevator to take them to them their”. He slides along a gold-plated key card.  You nod and take all that has been passed to you. 

 “Oh, and these are here by Mr Ichinomiya special request, whatever they do, act or say to you, just remember these are the CEO’s friends. I heard rumours one is a high superior of a gang, just smile, be nice and don’t get fired,” Mr Rem added giving you a slight pat on the arm before turning away to maintain the rest of the hotel staff. 

 Taking a deep breath, you walked into the middle of the lobby and put on your best *fake* friendly smile and waited for you guests to arrive. It must be have been 10 minutes before the first two arrived together and from their appearance you guessed it Mr. Oh and Mr. Baba. You felt your eyes watching them checking to the front desk before being pointed in your direction. You gave a friendly smile and walked towards the men, the one had an unimpressed stern look whilst the other had a friendly smile.

“Mr. Oh and Mr. Baba, welcome I’m (YN) and I’ll be escorting you to Mr Ichinomiya suite,” You say sweetly holding our hand to be shaken. Mr. Oh tuts and ignores whilst the other bows, taking off his fedora hat and presses your hand to his mouth. You blush at the boldness of this stranger and try to brush it off.

“The pleasure is all mine princess,” Baba says before gently releasing your hand resulting in an eyeroll from his friend. You felt slightly flustered at the gestor and regain yourself.

“Um, is it just the two of you?” You ask before you see a young man, running and panting through the lobby.

“I just saw the cutest dog,” He said through pants before leaning on Mr. Oh who to say the least did not look impressed and tutted loudly pushing the younger man off him. The young man who entered was Ota Kisaki and you was trying extremely hard to have a fan-girl moment, he was a star in the arts world producing paintings that would sell for more than you could count. He finally caught his breathe and looked at your eyes wide open.

“Dear god, I didn’t get to pet the dog outside but the gods have gifted me with this,” He said quickly taking your hand. You were slightly star struck, mainly creeped out by the young man and his comments. You wanted to jerk your hand back and give him a good scolding but Ren’s words stayed in your head ‘just remember these are the CEO’s friends’. Giving a smile through gritted teeth you reply, “Mr Kisaki, pleasure to meet you, I’m (YN). I’ll be escorting you to the suite,”. He finally let’s go of your hand and you pass the ID badges you were given to all of the men in front of you.

“These are your ID’s, they grant you access to the casino event and must be worn at all times during the event,” You say. You realise you still have one pass left for Mr. Kishi. 

“Is Mr. Kishi with you gentlemen?” You ask, realising all three men have been looking you up and down whilst explaining to them. Typical men. 

“God damit, you didn’t say he was coming,” Oh said through gritted teeth turning to Baba, his eyes going a dark shade. Baba chuckled slightly behind patting his friend on the back, “It’s okay old friend, I’m sure you can get on for this time, is he coming but not with us so if we could go up,” he said turning his attention to you. 

“Of course, gentleman if you will follow me,” You said before turning your back to them and strutting towards the elevator. You didn’t hear them following so you stopped and turned your head over your shoulder. All three of them had been watching your ass sway, mesmerised and in a state like trance. 

“Boys?” You said watching them snap out of it and chase behind you. 

“She talks to me like that again, I put a bullet through her,’ You heard Mr. Oh whisper to one of them, making your heart almost stop. 

“I’ll put something in her, repeatedly,” You heard Mr.Kisaki reply earning a chuckle from Mr.Baba. Pigs you thought to yourself, but you bite your tongue and dared say anything in retaliation. One for the fear of one shooting you and two your job, you was being paid nearly double time for this weekend. 

‘Don’t be so crude to my beautiful princess!” Mr.Baba chimed in. Reaching the elevator, you inserted the gold key card into a slot and watched the three other men clamber in. It was a tight squeeze, 3 grown men, a woman, three full suitcases and an extra-large duffle bag which Mr.Oh kept extremely close to him. Scuffling around you ended up with your back being pressed into one of the chest of the men, your plump little behind pressing against their front. You felt a slight heat rising inside you, you hoped it was just the embracement of the situation. 

“Hey no fair! Mr, I hate women is getting her all to himself,” You heard Kiaski whine and pouting. 

“Shut up Kid,” Was stated, through gritted teeth behind you.

You flushed as the comment made you realise you was pressed up against Mr.Oh.

‘So, my pretty, where has Mr Ichinomiya been hiding you,” Mr. Baba said taking your chin in his hand and forcing you to look up at him. Your lips slightly parted and a blushing tint was rising on your cheeks.

“I…I’m just a maid,” You reply to him, his eyes glistening and burning into yours. Your gaze is broken by an abrupt stop and fall forward onto his chest. The lift had jolted to a stop before carrying on up the 52 floor of the hotel.

“Mother fucker,” You curse due to losing your balance from these heels before you gasp, realising you was pressed against Mr.Baba chest and your strong choice of words. Pushing yourself off him, you heard a chuckle from all three men.

“I’m so so sorry, the shoes are new,” You mutter, your face quickly rising in colour. I knew this would be a long day.

 “No worried princess, feel free to fall for me anytime,” Mr. Baba replied giving you a cheeky wink. You heard a few murmurs of protest from Mr.Kisaki, you was positive you heard the word pet escape from his mouth. The rest of the journey up is silent and as the elevator finally reaches it stop, it shunts forward again but rather sending you forward again into the welcome arms of Mr.Baba, a strong arm wraps around your waist keeping you in place. Surprised at the arm around you, you fall back ever so slightly pressing your behind strongly against the front of Mr.Oh and a quiet but deep growl escapes from his throat. Highly embarrassed by the situation you aim to get out of the elevator as fast as you can. Whispering a quiet thank you to Mr.Oh you race out of the elevator and wait for the men to follow. Walking forward a few steps you feel the gaze of the men burning into your backside once a again. 

 Reaching the marble coated double doors, you knock and wait for a response.

“Tsk,’ Mr. Oh says before opening the doors and allowing himself to enter, followed by the two other men. Unsure what to do, whether to leave them men or follow suit, you feel a wrist wrap around yours and tug you into the suite. It was beyond beautiful inside, coated in marble and gold with the most luxurious furnishing inside. It almost took your breath away. It was Mr. Kisaki who had pulled you in and let go before wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Eiiiiiisuke!” He yelled, his voice echoing through the suite, “We want to thank you for the gift,” he added. You wanted to protest, you wanted to leave but you couldn’t. You was normally a ruthless person, taking no shit from anyone but the fear insulting one of your CEO’s friends, in his suite, with him somewhere inside was more powerful. 

 “Well, well, well,” A voice said. You looked around and saw a deviously handsome man strutting down the marble staircase which lead down to the open plan kitchen. It was him, Eisuke Ichinomiya, the king. You almost stopped breathing, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. His long legs strutting down the stairs before making way over to you, ignoring his guests. As Mr.Baba had done earlier, he took your chin in his hands and pulled your face up to meet his gaze.

 “And who are you?” He said, his mouth forming a cheshire smile. You was lost for words gazing at your CEO.

 “Don’t make me ask twice girl,” He said in a harsh tone and gripped your chin tighter. 

‘I… (YN), I work here, I have the honour of greeting your guests sir,” You say. You wasn’t sure what you said but his face smirked and you felt the other men’s gaze burning at Mr Ichinomiya. 

 “Honour of greeting my guests? If you consider that an honour, what would you call being bedded by me?” He says smugly. What an asshole. What a unbearable smug git he was.

 “Hands off shes mine!” Mr. Kisaki whines pulling me away from Mr Ichinomiya’s grip.

“No way, this is my princess, I saw her first,” Mr Baba joins in, tugging me into arms. Dear god what is happening, am I dreaming?

 “Hands off the goods,” You hear Mr Oh say and feel the grip around you loosen. You met Mr.Ohs gaze and see  his pointing a gun at Mr Baba. Seriously, what the fuck is going on, like there is a gun. Being pointed. At another man’s head. And he’s joking around all calm. WHAT IS HAPPENING you cry in your head.

 “Well it seems Miss (YN) that you’ve had an extremely positive effect on my men here, if you affect them anymore I think I’ll have lock you away for only my eyes,” Mr Ichinomiya says holding his hand to Mr.Oh a signal to lower the gun which he does. He takes a step towards you, but you step back as he does. Forgetting about these sodding heels, you lose your balance slightly and feel your back collapse against the wall behind you. Taking advantage of the situation, Mr Ichinomiya presses a hand next to your face and learns forward pressing into you, you could feel his breath heavy on yours. The scent of him was intoxicating and made you feel slightly dizzy.

 “So tell me why I should let you go,’ He whispers into your ear. He was the most glorious sexy bastard you had had ever laid eyes on. Your face was burning hot and you were speechless. Unable for words, you tried to mutter something, anything but nothing came on.

 “Eisuke, don’t torture the poor girl, she still needs to collect that sloth you decided to bring for no reason,” Mr.Oh said but was meant with a daggering flare from Mr Ichinomiya. Seizing the opportunity of his attention being diverted from you, you duck under Mr Ichinomiya arm and scutter to the door.

   “I’ll be with back Mr. Kishi when he arrives,” You say quickly and dart to the elevator as fact as the heels will let you. You heard several remarks about your behind coming from the men you had just left. Escaping into the elevator, your mind raising about what had just happened and trying to piece together the events. Reaching the lobby floor you scan the room in case Mr.Kishi had appeared but he had not. Your cheeks were flushed and you felt the heat from within you rising.

 Seeing as your guest had not arrived yet, you head outside the hotel to try cool down and think about what really happened. The cool air hits you, leaving slight goose bumps on your skin and you inhale, breathing in the fresh air. Whilst outside a man in a long detective style coat had just sparked up a new cigarette and you couldn’t take your eyes off it. You use to smoke, not as a regular but you found it happened when you felt stressed or in uncomfortable situations. 

“It’s rude to stare kid,” You hear from the man who turns around and walks towards you. He had a roughed attire to him, his cigarette handing from his mouth. 

“I… I’m sorry!” You said, take back slightly from words, he wasn’t even facing you when you was staring. He stretched out his pack of cigarettes towards you, guesting.

“I… I shouldn’t,” You say looking at his out stretched arm.

 “Sweetheart, I can tell you need this,” He says and slowly takes one and puts it into your mouth. You inhaled as he hit lit the end.

 “Fuck,” You say slightly louder than hoped and the man chuckles. His eyes followed your hand and mouth inhaling and exhaling, moving the cigarette expertly in your hand. His eyes lit up as he watched your lips perfectly hold the cigarette between them and ever so softly suck the bottom of your lip when you exhaled.

 “Thank you, honestly I can’t begin to explain how much this is needed,” You say to your detective styled hero. His hair was slightly messy with a goatee stubble perfectly trimmed, he had a sleepy look in eyes. 

 “Rough day sweetheart? I find nothing beats that than a nap,” He said, the words nap seemed to make his eyes sparkle slightly.

 “Aha, I wish, I’m waiting for a guest to arrive for Mr Ichinomiya but after from up there, I don’t really want to go back up,” You say with a slight defeat in your voice. Before your mysterious stranger can say more, you stub out your cigarette, you’d be in such trouble if you had been caught.

 “Thank you again, true hero detective man,” You say with a slight chuckle and run back inside the hotel. Walking over to reception, you ask if your last guest had appeared but nothing so far. At least it meant you had longer without being in that room of men. 

 Your eyes flickered as you saw your humble stranger from outside enter into building and head to reception, maybe you would be seeing more of him you thought. Deciding to look at your final ID card, your face went pale slightly and you wanted to curse. Of couse the handsome stranger was Mr.Kishi. Fucking brilliant. You saw him chuckling as he headed over to you.

“Mr. Kishi, welcome, please forour brief encounter outside, I had no idea you was a guest of Mr Ichinomiya,” You said, your eyes slightly pleading to him. You felt so embarrassed by the situation from outside, you hoped to god he wouldn’t tell Mr Ichinomiya. 

“It’s okay darlin, I wont say anything if you don’t,” He said his eyes gazing into yours and gently strokes your face. Another one, dear god why. Handing him his ID card you guested towards the elevator. He keeps his distance slightly behind and as you enter the elevator you catch him in the reflection checking you out. This uniform was the worst thing to ever happen in this hotel. Slotting the key card in, you feel the lift begin its ascent to the suite, you felt dread slightly come over you.

 “Don’t worry sweetheart, I wont let them touch you,” Mr Kishsi says stepping forwards slightly towards you. You gave up at this point and smiled back. He didn’t seem like the pervy kind like the others, maybe he was nice. Learning from your previous mistakes, you hold tightly to the rail to keep your balance. You see the man opposite you leaning against the wall, his eyes shut, is he asleep? No, he can’t be possibly. As the lift comes to a stop, his eye don’t open but falls forward like I had in the previous time up. Not realising the flailing man in front of me I pulled my skirt down as much as I could before entering that wolf-stricken suite. He fell forward and his eyes flung open, his arms out forward to brace the fall. He fell onto me causing me to lose balance and tumbling to the floor with him ontop of me. You gasped with the man ontop of you and the doors to the elevator open for you to see on the other side three of the men who you previously left, smirks on their faces. Your face burned red, the man ontop of you floundered and got off you as fast as he could.

“If you seduce any more of my men, I’m going to lock you away where no-one can set eyes on you again,” Mr Ichinomiya says with a smug smirk on his face. The other men behind in chime in with comments and unfair whines of how close Mr Kishi was. I watched their gazes skimming over me, most of their gazes stopped as they saw the skirt had hitched higher and was barely coming yourself. You pulled it down as quickly as you could and saw a hand stretched out to you. You took with it without hesitation and was pulled to your feet by the man who had knocked you down. You mouthed thank you to him and slowly felt the heat rising down from your face. You stepped out the elevator brushing yourself off and avoiding the gaze of the men surrounding you.

“Mr Ichinomiya all your guests are here, I’ll leave them in your care,” You say turning to Mr Ichinomiya. His smirk turns to a serious face.

“Did I say you could leave?” He says. You look a little stunned.

“No but… I thought…” You said slightly confused.

“What happened to that obedient girl from before, has too much time with other men distracted you?” He questions, crossing his arms.

“Mamo, you brooooke her,” Whined Mr Kisaki with a wide pout.

“Shut up,” Mr Baba says through gritted teeth elbowing the young man in the ribs. You wasn’t sure what to say.

 “Go easy on the kid,” Kishi said placing another cigarette between his lips. Mr Ichinomiya is the only one not to react, his expression unchanged. He grabbed your arm and pulled you close.

“I told you once. I will not tell you again little girl, do not make me ask twice,” Mr Ichinomiya said still clutching your arm. You look slightly confused still, just wanting to escape. 

 “No Sir, I was only told to present the guests, I thought my dutys stopped there,” You whisper back. You were slightly terrified of what might come out of his mouth next, you felt the gaze of all men on you. Mr Ichinomiya let go and pushed you slightly in front of him and the other men, so that you was facing the doors to the suite.

 “Walk. Slow,” He muttered to you. Taking a deep breath you headed slowly towards the doors. You knew why, you felt all four of the men present staring at your ass once again. You felt slightly humiliated at what was happening but you was a big girl, you knew what men was like. You knew Mr Ichinomiya was known for his womanizing ways. You almost reached the doors when they burst open and Mr.Oh came flying out, the doors swinging wide open. Your eyes widened seeing the inside of the suite, masses of guns were lying about, with more poking out of the duffel bag he had brought out. So the rumour was true, he had some relation to a gang. He again had a gun in hand and it was pointing at you, his face stern.

“Eisuke, what are you playing at, you know what’s happening in here,” He hissed, keeping his posture. You didn’t know what to do, the men behind you had walked to your side whilst the man in front of you kept his gun pointed at you. 

“Don’t hurt my princess,” Baba said, wrapping his arms around you, almost trying to shield you.

 “Go. You forget what you saw here, you speak of this to no-one or we’ll come after you,” Mr Ichinomiya said stepping in front of you. Without hesitation, you free yourself from the grip of Mr Baba and scurry into the elevator trying to erase your memory of the last 10 minutes. You heard the whining at your lack of present and stating Mr Ichinomiya was a pure kill joy. Your breathing was frantic and you felt your heart in your stomach of the events. As you watched the numbers slowly descent, you realised the lift never stopped at the lobby, instead it went down future. You sighed and repeatedly pressed the lobby button but it kept going down. Dear god what now, you sighed and slumped against the elevator wall. Once it came to stop you didn’t see anyone outside the lift so you stepped out but as you did you bumped into a figure you never saw and heard a horrifying smash. You gasped and saw two figures who had been holding something that looked like a statue was smashed into pieces on the floor. Fuck sake.

 “Ohmygod Im so so sorry,” You cry unsure what to do. The figures grabbed your arms tight and pulled you down the corridor.

 “You idiot that was an irreplaceable statue!” One screamed. You tried to free yourself but it was no hope you were too weak against the men.

“I guess we’ll have to take her instead,” The other replied. You thrashed against them but to no use. You were shoved into a dark room and flinger into a small cage. They left you in the darkness and tears started streaming down your face. What was this day, what was happening? 

 You had no idea how much time passed before you felt like the cage you was in was moving and before your eyes you was left on a stage, thousands of masked people in the audience gazing at you. You wanted to scream for help but that was when you heard it.

“Sold for 20 million to you sir at the back”. You chocked. You was being sold like cattle at market, you’d just been sold in a black market auction. 

 The cage you was in was covered up and you felt it moving again, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling but you refused to let who was moving you hear you cry. Exhausted from your tears and slumped against the bars of your cage waiting for this nightmare to be over. You wasn’t sure you travelled far, but then again you had no idea where you was, until you heard a recognisable voice. No scrap that, five recognisable voices. Are. You. Serious.

The cover was removed and there you saw them. The five men you had encountered that morning standing on the outside of your cage.

 “I told you, I’d lock you away for only me,” Mr Ichinomiya said smirking. This was his doing?  “She’s not just yours, she’s all of ours!” Pouted Kisaki making puppy eyes.

“None of you touch my princess, please let us get her out of that cage,” Baba says looking innocently at you. 

 “She looks like a pet!” Chimed in again from Kisaki. This was the most degrading experience of your life. You finally mustered up the courage to say something.  “W…whats happening?” You say with more tears in your eyes looking hopelessly at the men around you. 

 “We brought you, we own you, us,” Mr Ichinomiya said, he emphasised own more than anything else. 

 “The five you…?” You whispered back, seeing each of their hungry eyes on you, eyeing you up like a piece of meat. 

“You belond to us, all five of us, we brought you for a share each and now you have to obey what we say,” Babe says with a devious smile. Your eyes meet the rugged detective styled man from earlier, once again a cigarette handing from his lips, his eyes focused on you. Your head ached and you felt cramped inside the cage you had been thrown into earlier.

“Can… can I please get out this,” You asked, your voice just above a whisper. You hear a small chuckle from some of the men, you don’t know who but you hope they heard your plea. You see Mr Ichinomiya learn forward and unlock the cage allowing you to be free. You don’t hesitate to spring from the cage, your legs slightly week and once free you fall a little unable to keep your balance only to be caught by several pairs of strong arms, each man had lunged to keep you from falling. Guiding you to one of the cream sofas you sat down, whilst the men placed themselves around you, Kishi sitting on one side of you.

“So… so you brought me? Why? I’m confused what’s happening,” You ask.

“Who could let such a thing of beauty go?” Kishi finally speaks, taking your face in your hand. You flustered at the movement. 

 “You need to decide a place to stay, one of us as your master,” Mr Ichinomiya said from a separate armchair, crossing his legs. You started to laugh. But none else did. 

“Wait, your serious…” You said, looking at all the men’s stern faces. Babe fell to the floor and crawled to you, placing his hands on your exposed knees.

“I’ll treat you like a princess, the princess you truly are,” He said burrowing his hazel eyes into yours and slowly moving his hands up your thighs. You feel your face turn in one powerful swift to face Kishi who was inches away from you, he smelt strongly of whisky and cigarettes. 

 “I’m a detective, I’ll keep you safe,” He whispers against your lips. Before you can register what’s happening your swept of your feet and held into an embrace by Kisaki. 

“Be my precious pet,” Kisaki said brushing your hair out of your face. You were once again whipped away by another strong pair of arms and held strongly against Mr.Oh’s chest. 

“Women are a waste of time, but for you I’ll make the acceptation” He spoke softly into your hair. Before finally, you pulled down onto the lap of the king , Mr Ichinomiya. Your back pressed firmly against his chest and he leaned against you snaking his hands over your waist.

 “Stay with the king and be treated like a queen,” He whispered into your neck. You felt dizzy, the staring of each men burning into you whilst the hot breath of Mr Ichinomiya tickled against your neck. 

“I… I have an apartment here, can’t I just st-“ You started but was cut off with a no from almost everyman. 

 “What if we propose a new deal then,” Baba said walking over and stroking your face. A rival growl from Mr Ichinomiya was stated from behind you. Almost like a look, don’t touch. 

“I’ll stay here,” You pipe up before any other men can stay anything. A chuckle comes from behind once again and he places a kiss against the back of your neck causing a slight shiver to run down your back.

 “Boss wins again,” Sighs a defeated Kishi .

“God damit” Oh mutters. You feel daggers staring at Mr Ichinomiya who’s still chuffed with the result. 

 “I said here, not him,” You state and try to stand up but the hands around tighten.

 “Don’t toy with me girl,” Mr Ichinomiya whispers into your ear. 

 “I… I’m serious, I don’t know you, any of you, if you own me I’ll be here, but I belong to all you not just one,” You say after mustering all you can. You was done, you was tired, no exhausted. Enough of this, enough of all of this.

 “I mean, I can share my princess here but if any of you touch her…” Baba starts.

 “I swear to god, I will shoot one of you if you break her,” Oh adds, his hand in his blazer. A deep sigh comes from behind you but there’s still a tight grip around your waist with one placed now placed on your thigh.

 “I’ll be here all the time, just more time to myself,” He says squeezing your thigh.

“I…um, I need to get back to work,” You say before pushing his hands off you and standing up pulling down your high risen skirt. 

“You don’t leave.” A stern voice said. You wasn’t sure who said it but you heard it.

“I… I have a job, I cant just-“ You start but was interrupted.

 “We’ll look after you, but as part of this you do not leave, not without one of us,” Kisaki says walking over to you and holding your wrists gently. You look over your shoulder to Mr Ichinomiya.

 “S…Sir?” You ask, regardless the others he was the CEO of where you worked. He smirked.

 “Look at me like that again and I will have you pinned against a wall faster than you can Sir, but yes. You live here, your life is here, you serve us now and if you leave you will be ended,” Mr Ichinomiya said his eyes glazing with a darkness. 

“O…okay,” You finally surrender and the men give me devilish smirks and smiles.

 The penthouse was exquisite, beautiful in every way. From the living area was joined with a open kitchen which had a marble staircase leading to a upstairs full of rooms. Each man had his own suite and bathroom, Mr Ichinomiya had his own office and you were finally taken to your room. It was bigger than the whole of your apartment you lived in and beautifully detailed in every way. You also had your own en-suite with a spa bat-tub and wall to floor shower. You gasped when you saw it, a smirk appeared on Mr.Oh’s face.  “Impressed by this? We have so much more to show you darlin,” Kishsi said gently wrapping his arms around you much to the protest of the fellow bidders.

 A few hours had passed and you spent them in your room still confused of the events that had happened today. You was owned by these five men, no choice, no escape, no home to go back too… You ended up passing out from exhaustion on the silk bed in your room. When you woke you found the stuff from your apartment had been placed inside and you realised this wasn’t a nightmare or a bad dream, it was all real and happening. Walking into the bathroom you looked at the state of you in the bathroom and sighed, you looked a mess. You skirt was hitched up from your slumber, barely covering your ass, your shirt was messy and untucked, your sleeked ponytail was messy and falling out and you still had the toe pinching heels on.  Stripping off, you stepped into the shower washing away the humiliation you faced from today away. You used the lotion already stacked in the shower, making your skill smell of vanilla. Drying yourself off and stepping into your room, you found your lounge wear in the pile of stuff brought to your room. Sliding into your lacey low-cut tank top with your black lace shorts, not your best clothing option by far but it’s all you had I mean you never expected to live with a group of five men. Grabbing the secret stash of cigarettes, you kept hidden in one of your coat pockets and retying your hair back up and slipping on your flower kimono you take a deep breath and exit your room.

 You was greeted to a cheerful sound of men and the mixed smell of alcohol and cigarettes greeted your nose. It was a smell you wasn’t use to but it’s a smell you finally get use to and call home. A round of whistles filled your ears when you stepped down the marble case gaining all of the bidder’s attention. This was something you would never get used to. 

“Well, look whos finally come to join us,” Mr Ichinomiya said sitting in the same chair as earlier, a whisky in hand and that smug smirk on his face. 

“Yes, yes enjoy the show,” You say and twirl before walking into the kitchen, all eyes on you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mr Ichinomiya says to you rising an eyebrow. Looking confused.

“Getting a drink…?” You respond. 

 “Did we give you permission?” He responds. You scoff and grab one of glass flutes before picking up the bottle of champagne and pouring a glass.

 “You can’t be serious,” You say shaking your head but the next minute your slammed up against the fridge Ichinomiya pressed inches away from your face. His hot breath pulsing against your next and your hands pinned to the side of your face.

 “Do not test me, you obey me, you answer to me with sir and if you don’t do what I say within 5 seconds, I will bend you over the nearest thing and fuck you there and then,” He says whilst pressing his lips against your neck. You cant help but let out a sweet moan at the sensation and without realising you respond, “Yes sir, sorry sir,”. You feel the smirk of his mouth pressing against your neck before he pulls away. Your face is slightly flustered and you feel the drink you previously poured pushed back into your hand. 

“Good girl,” He mumbles, watching you walk away. The men had moved to a poker table sitting around and you sat in the free chair next to Baba, which you didn’t know was the best option.

“So princess how are you.” He says and places his hand on thigh and squeezes it gently. You give a simple smile and look around the table feeling the gaze of the bidder either on your face or your chest. You sipped away at your drink whilst watching the men engage in their game of poker. Every time you found your glass empty, one of the bidders had filled your up glass up almost instantly. 

“So sweetheart you playin?” Kishi asked before popping a cigarette into his mouth whilst shuffling some cards. You licked your lips slightly watching him fondle the cigarette in his mouth before you took yours out to the gasps of the other men.

“If you like the look of his mouth, wait til you see what mine can do,’ Kisaki whispers into your ear, Baba’s hand still squeezing your thigh. It was like a competition of them for your attention…

 “Yeah, fuck it,” You replied, before placing the cigarette between your teeth and raising your eyebrows to Kishsi gesturing to his lighter. Instead he shifted from his chair and shoved Kiaski out of the way taking his place. He leaned in close to you placing the end of his lit cigarette to yours and mumbles for you to inhale which you comply. Your eyes lit up watching the end spark up. You rolled it between your lips and lean back in your chair and cross your legs with your drink in the other. You hear muttered curses and comments from the others.

“God, I wanna see what else you can do with them lips,” Oh says watching your every movement. 

“Let me put something better between those lips,” Ichinomiya says with a smirk. You wasn’t sure if it was the attention you was receiving, the drinks you’d had or a mix of both because you started to feel more confident. 

“So we playing boys or what,” You say leaning forward, before seductively sucking the end of your cigarette and slightly licking your lip. You heard a low grown from the bidders, unable to place the groans to each man. This could get interesting you think to yourself, inhaling, exhaling, your chest rising to each movement. You knew the men were watching anticipating your next move, but there was none. You leaned forward for Kishi’s ashtray and stubbed out your cigarette. 

 The cards were dealt and a round was played, losing within the first few minutes of the game. 

“Shall we make it more interesting?” Ichinomiya says smirking behind his cards. All eyes were on him, except for mine, I was far more interested in topping up my drink, since we started playing the men stopped catering for your needs.

 “For her.” He states shortly and quickly with the other bidders in unison. Realising what was said you almost chocked on your drink. You wasn’t dumb or naïve and you knew what that meant and by god was you going to let one of these men win you like a prize. Looking for an escape on this, you watched as Baba loosened his tie and it hit you.

 “Or…” You start and finishing your drink for courage, all eyes back to you.

“Strip poker, winner gets a kiss…” You breath out after a deep exhale. You hear Kisaki clap and rub his hands together, sitting opposite you in Kishi’s original chair. Oh winks at you before diverting your gaze and you feel Baba had snaked a hand around your waist giving you a tight squeeze. Kishi gently took your wrist before placing a small kiss to your palm sending a heat of excitement through you. Ichinomiya gets up and walks to you and pulls you back by your ponytail gently, he leans down and places a kiss against you neck, sending you slightly breathless.

“You better get that pretty mouth of yours ready to kiss me all over,” He whispers into your ear before releasing your hair and returning to your seat. Slightly intoxicated with the situation at hand you regain yourself and smile.

“Game on boys” You say. 

Surprise, surprise you lost the first round so you lost the kimono, leaving you in your tank top and shorts. 

 You didn’t lose the next few but you watched, Oh Baba and Kishi all lose an article of clothing, mainly ties and fedoras.  But then you lost again and you had to decide on what went. Sighing and mustering your courage, you slowly removed your tank top thankful you kept your white lace bra on but it left little to the imagination, your slight erect nipples poking through the material. Kisaki and Oh’s jaws dropped, Baba placed his hand back onto your waist before slowly tracing it up your side, Kishi who had nearly fell asleep was now wide awake and his eyes burning through your chest. A recognisable growl came from the king, the same kind you heard earlier when you was sat on his lap. This was the first moment you realised the full effect you were having on these men but also the effect they was having on you.

“Okay boys, pack it in,” You saw with a new confidence and throwing you shirt at the table. You play two more round, winning both and watching Ichinomiya lose his jacket and Kisaki his shirt, he was hiding a beautifully tone chest under there.

  It was the last round, a make or break for you. You lost the first half much to your disagreement but you sucked it and teased the men watching you. Standing up, your first traced your hands up your stomach but moved them down to your shorts meet with anticipated breath from the bidders. Slowly you tug your shorts down just a little reviling the hem of your lacy panties. Slowly you push them down, using your other hand to keep up your shorts. Met with gasps and you catch Kishi drop his cigarette his mouth gaping open. Sitting back down, you extend your leg out pulling your panties full off and placing them on the table. You was met with a stunned silence and felt extremely proud of your power move.

 The final cards were dealt and you could cut a tension with a knife, the bidder slowly revealed their cards, all but you and Mr Ichinomiya. He smirked and laid out his cards, “I want all them clothes gone for our kiss,” he says smugly. You look at your cards and give him a defeated look before sighing. He knew he had won, until you laid your cards out.

 “I call that a royal flush, sir,” Your purr, seeing his eyes widen and that cocky grin wiped off his face. You raise a brow at your defeated opposition and watch him slowly lose his lavender shirt. His chest was chiselled and you felt it hard to keep your cool.

 Regardless of his dick attitude, he was a sight to behold. You licked your slightly parted lips at the sight but a comment from Baba brought you back to reality.

“So winner…” He said leaning into you neck. You already knew who you wanted to kiss… right now it was all of them. Each one brought a sexual tension and with your confidence and high of winning you was ready to explore. 

“Since you all share me, I want a kiss of each of you, you know please all my masters,” You say with a cocky grin on your face.

No-one complained or whined infact they were rather submissive. Each kiss was different, Oh’s and Kiski were sweet and delicate, Kishi’s tasted like an ashtray (but you enjoyed the taste), Baba however was gentle with a tight grip on your waist and sucking delicately on your bottom lip. And Mr Ichinomiya, he pulled you into his lap and kissed your cheek before moving closer and kissed the corner of your lips, instantly you leaned to him but he pulled back and then you heard it, the words beg fell from his mouth and formed a declivous smile. You couldn’t believe this prick.

“Kiss me,” You muttered against his lips. He pulled back again.

“Kiss me who?” He said cocking an eyebow.

“Kiss me, sir,” you said and his lips came crashing onto yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth, showing his dominance. He pulled back leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips. Feeling heavily intoxicated with passion and lust, you bid the bidders fair well before retrieving your top and kimono and bounding upstairs.

“Aren’t we forgetting something?” One of them yells up, your panties still in the middle of the table.

“Keep them,” You respond, hearing an argument breaking out between them. You reached your room, shut the door and sighed, what had you got yourself into? 

“So what is the catch?” Your other friend Gemma asked, perking up from the sofa still marvelling at the fact she was in the penthouse of the Hotel Tres Spades. Grabbing a fresh bottle of champagne from the grey-metallic fridge you place it on the counter and lead forward pressing the palms of your hands flat against it.

Taking a deep sign, you reply, “I mean my freedom in a way, I’m a private maid for the penthouse, I’m not allowed to go freely out of the building without informing anyone of where I’m going, my apartment is gone I can only stay here, I guess I can kiss a love life goodbye, not that there really one,”.

“I mean the last time you last got laid was when you were 17 wasn’t it,” Rachel said, both her and Gemma giggling.

“Shut up!” You yelled, lobbing a bag of peanuts at her head and trying not to go the colour of the perfectly red apple sitting on the counter. She was right though, it had been five years since you last had any sexual connection with a man. Not that you hadn’t had the opportunity, but the first and last time you had sex, you were lied too, tricked into thinking you and he was in love but really all he wanted was your body. You never told or spoke to anyone about it because you felt embarrassed, ashamed of your naivety but you were young, you thought you was in love.

Pouring yourself and the two others a drink, you waltzed back across the room.

“To Miss (YN) new lavish lifestyle!” Gemma said raising her glass and waiting for us to join in.

“To no catches!” Rachel chimed in causing a giggle from all three of you.

 “So come on, what’s the real gossip, what are these men like?” Rachel ask you, wiggling her eyebrows. You took a sip of your champagne and though about your response. You knew no-one was in the penthouse, or you hoped at-least, you was still getting use to everyone’s schedules even though they never really stuck to them. You gave your friends a brief description to your friends of them ensuring to leave out details from the poker night, that only happened 2 nights ago.

“They all sound devious but come on, if you had, which one would you screw?” Gemma asked and you had to think.

The smug and demanding yet charming boss – Eisuke Ichinomiya

The mafia leader – Soryu Oh

The flirtatious thief – Mitsunari Baba

The young artist – Ota Kisaki

The ruggedly handsome detective – Mamoru Kishi

[benchgenderstudies]

An address of the similarities to Beauty Pageants and use of women as cultural capital.

Opening/

Introduction to Regulating of the Fashion (Model) and Casino/Luxury Industry

By Michael Bench, MEP WGSGC

Exercise Physiology Masters, Gender Anthropologist

Author of Native Supremacy.

In calling for the regulation of the fashion industry and fashion model sizes; there is a freakish pushback by the victims themselves:the models The models still believe they are indebt to a talent agency network. The talent agency has signed them on, sent them to events with a positive initial experience to remember.. and subsequently start charging them outrageous fees. Fees that ultimately keep a model quiet about the unhealthy conditions of the industry. She's mistaken that her earnings are somehow supposed to be diverted to the talent agency instead. The fashion industry borrows a common strategy used by Russian and illegal immigrant sexshops; confiscating their girls' passports and identity until they 'pay off' visa costs and other miscellaneous compounding expenses.

The talent agencies are further bold in their exploitation of the models that they would start sending her to unpaid events while holding substantial debt against her. They would send her to accused rapists and molesters in the photography/marketing industry for it is the photographer that holds the industry bottlenecked no matter what abuse he might choose to visit on his lesser known clients.

Very little research is conducted on measuring fashion model, porn actress, or pageant model intelligence. Definitions of intelligence are hotly debated to rid Science of once accepted credentials of the First World, the Third World and Civilization spheres as they were known to the Early British Empire. I will here address this debate in brevity: the pageant models and runway fashion models are a multiracial collective. Those who have previously experienced lives devoid of privilege tend to reward and guard their modeling experiences with higher levels of positivity than her Anglo coworkers. This does not mean (she) also regards modeling more positively than her coworkers. I propose across the board those with suspicious objective perspectives as underprivileged/oppressed races and ethnicities before new academic challenges will be much better educational prospects in quality learning environments.

In a Google Scholar search, no declared IQ research had been conducted on fashion models. I then searched for pageant model education levels with the same level of results. They appeal to girls working on a bachelors degree or younger. What material I could find revealed that one could not ask a fashion model or pageant model how smart she was. Her answer would reveal a skewed proposition that her model experience was a type of specialized skill This is first a paradox since females only enter pageants as temporary affirmations hoping to build from it. Some want to go to veterinary colleges, others still dont know. They just know they love the attention (Tonn) A Narcissist does love their attention. They make facts bend all around what they want to do.

The model and the abuser share this in common; In order to not sound foolish for justifying global attention at the expense of their health, safety and sans protection from financial crime and perverts.... she avoids admit the industry is a craven fraud scouting out young people to steal their commercial identity profits. Less so in the pageant environment where parents have a watchful eye on their children. In fashion modeling the parents try their hardest to avert their eyes from the quo sexualization of girls as young as ten. Thylane Blondeau's mother was already in modeling and celebrity culture. Its norms skewed her sense a photographer like Tom Ford could instruct her child to assume poses of actual adult erotica in posture and manner. The pictorial was displayed in Vogue.

The first pageants were meant to extend tourist season. Tourist season tends to revolve around hotels and casinos; the only venues large enough to have a pageant. Pageants like Most Beautiful Girl in Nigeria(MBGN) have a mission statement to be a competitive event on the global stage. Silverbird, the managing company of MBGN, admits it grooms female contestants in all aspects of the competition (Balogun). The grooming isnt only about the pageant competition but of contestants gender roles and sexual norms for conquest. “They are the virgins of newly found cultural capital”. Predators observe 'fresh (unrefined) meat” for their own; the casino's high rollers.

Mr. Oke, a staff member at Silverbird, commented, “I’m always scared of these girls. They are powerful. That’s why I’m always nice to them. They’re all going to dump their boyfriends after this is over. You’d be surprised, one of them might be the future wife to a minister [head of national ministries]; they might just be the one to make that phone call to make or destroy a deal.” Newly formed relationships with business leaders, celebrities, and politicians were touted as signs of emergence into new elite circles centered on transnational culture and capital to which most contestants would otherwise not have access. ( Balogun)

This quote simultaneously exposes the pageant staff starting the courting process of the upper class and defending the experience as an opportunity. The pageant presents celebrities as the appropriate bachelors to set them back in their traditional roles as housewives. Business executives, actors, and politicians are of the few occupations that can sustain a single earner household. If a pageant is the updraft for young females to bridge their social network with the social elite, then pageants are nothing more than a sterilized abonne meeting area along side the European ballet. Males of the aristocracy would solicit select ballerinas with sexual advances in return for funds to afford her ballet costumes, slippers , makeup ; her career. What makes anorexia such a common place norm in ballet is females of the aristocracy are not allowed in the backstage area of the ballet. Conclusively to shield ballerina mistresses from suspect infidelity with married men, her extreme thinness intends to stop her menstrual period and so too any chance of pregnancy. The waif is an invitation of sexual solicitation and harassment left over from European tradition.

Mr Oke is not the only pageant staff to approach contestants with sexual and relationship comments.Donald Trump is the target of many accusations. One, walking into his Miss America Pageant dressing rooms without concern to the contestants' privacy. Contestants were either naked or topless “ theres a man in here”. Again, intelligence lacks see the narcissistic pervert. Tasha Dixon reported that Trump's pageant staff were encouraging the girls to get Trumps attention.An all too common occurrence in fashion modeling photography sessions. Assistants normalize and enable the sexual/erotica/perversion repertoire of their boss while the models protest or question his professionalism. Male and female fashion models are expected to submit to photographers 'to get ahead in the industry”. This is covered in much better details with names named in the External Motivations of Anorexia Nervosa paper.

Dixon presumed Trump stayed in the pageant business because there was no one that could limit or prosecute his behaviours.(Revesz) On separate occasions Trump would approach 10-14year old girls telling them that he would one day be their boyfriend. (Zimmerman) He was so into himself that he wouldn't hesitate to tell the press he would be his then 16yo daughter's boyfriend too.(Winthall) Pageants/ couture designers feel they are the creator spectacle over models instead of aiding them. Mere contestants seem to require their favors and services to groom them and culture them. Toxic persons can't help temptations to elaborate the model's empty stock worth as a marionette puppets to their sexual lusts. What agencies are not coldly brothels exercise a minimizing collection of exercises.. including severe diets just to keep the models loyal and working for pennies. Alexia Palmer, a model from Jamaica sued Donald Trump's model agency for not finding her enough work and being underpaid. She “felt like a slave”. (Mosk et al) Allegedly dignified contests such as those run by Cory Quorino in the Philippines choose a role as what could be described surrogate philanthropy.”Beauty in Giving” The Models advertise charities and get credit for the sums of money they raise.(Alzaga) this is a clear difference between the two realms. Pageants value women as spokespeople while luxury fashion dismisses its models only by its choice not to advance the gender role of the model to be a brand spokesperson. This is partially out of a selfish spotlight hoarding by the head designer taking a lot too much credit in fear of sewing around curves of whatever plus size statures he feels are label relevant. Haute Couture is selfish of its credit toward the feminine by restricting it from the female.

Haute couture designers of the fashion industry don't register that their homosexual male preferences and recontexting 'phemininity' is not healthy for young women to sustain for themselves. Male and female couture models are said to equally oblige an androgynous look. The female is still required to be smaller than the male in order to be a suitable to simulate heterosexual relations in ads. In a true androgynous circumstance the females would be larger and butcher than the males. If Androgyny was truly nonbinary the females would be fortunately advantaged in muscling her earnings from the corrupt agency system overseen by the Council of Fashion Designers of America (Tom Ford ,president) and the New York Department of Labor. An agency system that wont protect the female employee force from norms of the waif and “Parisian Androgyny” is an agency that injures female consumers. Shaping the young female into a mold of frail vulnerability is the industry's asset of exploitation. Their return to tradition and nod to sexual coercion. A girl cant stand up for herself if her unfit legs snap in ankle breaker heels.

And lets not ignore even if Dolce & Gibbon’ah or Chanel could argue elite athletes are just as small as the runway waifs; same body mass index; their perspective is infantile at best. The elite athlete requires an offseason to recover. Athletics is not a form of health even if it provides some measure of ideal vanity. If a female distance runner chooses not to have an offseason, she does so at the expense of her bone density and emotional health. Both influence race day competition. If a ballet dancer chooses to maintain the same size from age 15 to age 27 , she is malnourished. Sport does not recontext the abuses to the body as 'fair'. Elite ballet is not a functional skillset for the real world. Flexibility can have a posterchild like yoga that doesnt require eating disorders for its practice.

Second, the paper mathematical Body Mass Index (BMI) chart comparing only height to weight is not a clinically relevant definition of body mass index or body composition; AT ALL. It should not be used by general physicians to deduce patient health statements. At the very minimum skin fold measurements and hydrostatic weighing are two representative standards of truly investigating what a persons real lean body mass is. New clinical means of deciding body composition also recruit specialized radiology. The only group that can be easily spotted are the underweight. A female underweight for her size has not adequately resistance trained her body for strength. Without strength her bones become weak without enough tension on the tendon insertions. Without enough muscle built (hypertrophy) her metabolism and immune system are damaged. The normalcy of the waif to females (models) is an abuse of their body whether they sign on for it or not. Ergo they are damaging the public to allow diet and sport supplements to broadly advertise the thin look as an all encompassing good thing. Its not. Disinformation hurts a nation. Eventually it leads to unnecessary antidepressant use; a spectacular racket also assaulting the female American public.

The homosexual male designer relies on his photographers to emphasize his clothes. His imprint on the Waif. .. the cult of personality around Dior and Balenciaga is body modifications (ie piercing,tattoos).. not merely shape. Christian Dior started his fashion fame trying to bring back the waspwaist. Body Modification , not merely body sculpting. Body abuse, not merely the pyramid of haves and havenots. Would an industry profiting on the most rare of female body types of its stars be so cruel numerous times to sexually abuse, verbally abuse, minimize, and ignore her safety? They dont care about the models image for she is a product of misery. Very young models of 14-17 are sent over oceans without any chaperones only knowing if they dont oblige the event or photo session they'll have to buy their own ticket home. They'll be stranded. Embassies should know of every contest involving Americans and make themselves available to the industry workers so they know all their rights.)(The contracts are not legit) .

Surprise limo rentals and clerical/courier fees are sprung on her. Services anyone would presume are complementary are actually extra charges and not optional. That alone is grounds to call on state and federal government to investigate the industry. Agency services operate as such: You order a single gift basket from Harry & David . Harry and David take your credit info and data mine your Facebook account and charge you for and send gift baskets to your whole friend list. This is not a Harry and David practice. All I'm saying is Harry and David's product push is unnecessary while ordering. Unlike the seasonal gift firm the fashion agency health negligence against its staff and its financial dealings are criminal and embezzling.

If the model is raped behind the scenes or dies from dieting the public asks the family and industry, why didnt you say anything? If a model is having all her earnings withheld by her agency the public asks “ Why didnt you report it to IRS or US LABOR?” The very short answer is... the fashion and pageant industry attract unsuitable examples of females who choose fame before substance. The temporary state of that transaction seems as cheap and unbecoming as the credit she must lack to stand against them. The short answer is, the pageant and fashion models are not intelligent, know very little about the business or her rights before she arrives to the business and see the pageant or modeling only as a temporary stepping stone. She should always have a lawyer and first read the contract for conflicts with state and federal law. If pageant contestants find themselves in as ruthless a pit as fashion.. they protect the pageant for short term humiliation for long term benefits of advancement. This also means models enable zero-integrity pageants, designers, and agents to prey on new entrants financially and sexually in their silence. But are they smart? Considering the sizable preparation and expense for a pageant contestant to be touring or out of school, the trueyoung  intelligencia would be at home studying knowing she was preparing for an academic future rather than get-rich/famous-quick scams that only selectively privilege the obedient marionettes of a pageants/genre's grooming.

I should not be misunderstood that any contestant in a beauty pageant represents the lowest of intelligence in the community. They are not all one demographic. Pageants tend to feature the middle class specimens of a society on the presumption they have some cultural capital appreciation and enough education to be spokespeople of the campaign. The middle class are prone to believe they can become the wealthy class in good circumstances. Being middle class is one most important stigmas the pageant models want to overcome.

What would separate this new model from her old middle-class origin?

Feeling they are respected/ envied.

Are a contribution of upward movement for her family(Alzaga)

“The wife should be both parent and supporter”(Wu)

“Goal Oriented, Independent , Committed to Individualism, Assertive (Larsen)

“(According to Williams) In this way women's bodies stand in for and manage difference in a nonthreatening way”(Crawford)

'(About Texas pageants) Big Hair, flashy jewelry, wry wit, shoulder pads, artificial fingernails, confidence, (Mosel-Talavera)

What I found tying most contestants together is the belief public speaking with poise and confidence (as the pageant trained her) is the equivalent of having intelligence. Its not all bad a belief. People are not good at public speaking. Most could tolerate the tasks of directing their child's birthday party, telling a story at a campfire or summarize a prewritten essay. Public speaking before a live TV audience or academics asking to be impressed by 20-40 minutes of supported keynote address is very difficult. It's objectifying but it's objectifying uniformly. The audience hears the word choices, speaking tone, the speakers body undulations, quirks , the moles his neck or chest hair peaking out of his polo shirt. Do his clothes fit well? does his scalp have a full fill of hair? Did he shave? Did he use teeth whiteners? Are his shoes cool? Do he have bow legs? Is his ass firm while he turns around explains the powerpoint graphic? The objectification of the male body is as unspoken of as the females is abundantly. My explanation for objectification and especially censorship of the breasts sits with the immaturity of male based community standards to still sexualize his relationships through his relationship with his mother. Freud didn’t get it. The Male regards the breasts as a service instrument the same way traditional females are called Betty Homemakers. He hasnt grown up even if there’s too damn many missing dish towels balled up in the house corners .. surprisingly holding their pleats and reeking of salt deposits.

Opponents of pageants believe that females are being sexually objectified by the swimsuit contest or the ball gown event or softball questions like “ Are cats soft? Support your answer with three points. ” I feel objectification happens to everyone especially in cases of academic keynote speaking. Simultaneously, there is nothing perverse about sexual evaluation. All good things face defilement and misuse by bad people. The confidence that pageant contestants correctly identify is that they are not victimized by the circumstances and spheres of objectification because they chose the event. They endured the experience because they were prepared to see and evaluate their attention instead of being blindsided. As for the Miss New York pageant contestant exclamation “ Its all so fulfilling. For the first time people were asking me for my ideas. I liked the attention.” Indeed. The attention included in the pageant entry fee,huh? Perhaps pageant contestants don't connect being in front of crowds as a test and more of a 'gathering for their attention. “Its so Pageanty” N.A.R.C.I.S.S.I.S.T.

Observers of pageants rely on the pageants mission statement to validate a so-called finest mix of brains and beauty. The observers and TV audience are the precultured hinterlands pageants hope to save their contestants from. When very young girls are imprinted with pageant themes, they mistake their own dreams of being a beauty queen as a long term event. Pageants and modeling are not a lifelong career. Strike Two: The intelligencia would be working toward a career directly and not be misdirected by shallow endeavors; especially ones with negative reviews, accusations of sexual harassment, and limitations on her speech.

In my Equal Employment Opportunity correspondence to the US Department of Justice during the Obama administration I addressed the problem in the Fashion industry. No real female could be hired because all woman exercising responsibility for their wellbeing would not diet herself to a size she was last at age 14. What females are hired are vulnerable to victimization because they already cast their lots for fame at any cost. The thinness standards in the fashion industry for international models are not a legitimate middle ground for anyone. Androgyny is not a middle ground between male and female when male can parade it as a fetish while females must oblige an abusive tactic to become perpetually young. Perpetually young is what couture is selling retail patrons. Buy our clothes and you will be young too.. Buy our face cream and you too will be ready for our dress. The face cream doesnt stop the aging nor does models diet to flat concave chests for the 'predeveloped' look suppressing the aging process. She's actually aiding deterioration. Is the fashion model smart? No. She's constructively ignorant to become famous.

My EEOE correspondence also relates to the clamp pageants have on women's behaviors and promotion of their personal beliefs. A Miss Michigan candidate was stripped of her title for defending then Vice President Mike Pence on Twitter. A tweet consisting of “ STOP KILLING BLACK PEOPLE!!!” directed at the Vice President caused Kathy Zhu to respond in kind “Did you know the majority of black deaths are caused by other blacks? Fix problems within your own community first before blaming others”.(McClaughlin) If this is a cause to dethrone a current pageant winner then the Miss Michigan pageant should probably spend more time in the interview section vetting the political biases and outburst potential of their contestants. Even if Zhu had promoted disinformation, it would be her lack of composure/delivery that made the tweets sub-beautyqueen-standard. “Dear Sir.Madam, The seriousness and sorrow for Black people's losses also must face their own in-race exploitations among many types of daily criminal victimization. I'd like to talk with you more about it. Sincerely Kathy Zhu. ,Miss Michigan. Tra la la deedah.” There's a difference in delivery here.

Zhu is not the first pageant winner to be stripped of her title and probably not the last. Vanessa Williams was crowned Miss America in 1994. Her title was removed when it was found the African American singer had nude unauthorized photos of her sent to and purchased by Penthouse magazine. The title was given to Miss New Jersey. A scandal like this in the pageant business is unsurprising. Allegations of sexually exploitive photography surround Terry Richardson. The fashion industry claimed Richardson was just being a scapegoat. If he is, that means of rigging pageants are as simple as which photographer the pageant staff send each contestant. The also-rans get sent to the molester so he can create a pool of unfit evidence for the smut mags or tabloids.

Compensatory beliefs motivate some contestants to enter pageants. One respondent said her interest in pageants is she was mocked by her family. She was treated as though not beautiful enough and instead nurtured to be a geek. She was sent to quiz bees instead of pageants(Alzaga) For youth attention has a quicker reward than good grades or college acceptance by her 4th-9th grade peers. Out of frustration she sought out pageants because their marketing supported her affirmations she was as beautiful as she was smart.

A detriMENTAL circumstance when the overly smart become attracted to pageants is they can be excessively competitive to destructive ends. Said destructive ends come of any competition being about narcissism which is not always 'nerds' strong suit in displaying, controlling or suppressing. This could well explain archetypes like the “librarian nymphomaniac.”

“Miss American represents the highest ideals. She is a real combination of beauty, grace, and intelligence, artistic, and refined. She is a type which the American Girl might well emulate”. (Larsen)

In the fashion world, the overly competitive female will choose to race to be the thinnest girl available for ad shoots. “Even if it kills her'. It will. So far its the model forced to take blame for her voluntary choice to be thin. But is it actually voluntary? No. The fashion industry welcomes the girl in the door, starves her down to size to get working (she is the industry while conforming to the industry) and then she is stolen from while in a dizzy state of malnourishment and physical fatigue. Fatigue: 16-20 hour work days without food/breaks so the photographers can snort oodles of cocaine, have a scone and yell at them “ You're not giving me enough!!”. In a month or so , the model is working on 15% of her real earnings holed up in a crusty apartment with either 10 more models or the agent himself as his live-in burlesque show; at best. At worst she might die of starvation a day before or after Elite Models Gerard Marie rapes a live in model next to his own sleeping daughter. And she might not even have the strength to report it let alone fight it off.

Is the pageant model smart? There's no sure answer but she is an opportunist. She an opportunist invited to a cultural framework where she is near or distant to the pageant industry's Caucasian tradition and norms. “I think this is a problem within European society because to make themselves fit, thin, and lean they take lots of medicine and so on which really does no good to the body. “ Said a Nepali resident of Kathmandu. (Crawford) . So without being Secretary of Health and Human Services Azar or US Labor secretary, or a George Washington University Professor in Public Health like David Michaels or a New York State Commissioner of Labor.. a Nepali adult living in a part of the world regarded “backward” finding transparent clothing hard to digest for ad consumption still identified drug related crash dieting and Western themes of thinness unhealthy.

Former US LABOR OIG legal counsel Howard Shapiro could not. He would not adopt the Body Mass Index as a health standard from the CDC/HHS because the 1970s document founding OSHA and NIOSH made no mention of regulation of industry by Body Mass Index. In fact the goal of OSHA is to accept and enforce all and any health standards arising from NIOSH and HHS so that the industry is made safe for all Americans of any status of employment. In the market today Americans are concealed from safety behind walls of contracts (or as nonemployee contractors) instead of employees. Employees privatized and subjected to informal harassment, threat, assault, exploitation and intimidation. This situation is illegal. Americans in any form of employment must be protected from illegal and unhealthy work environments. Former OSHA director Edwin Foulk Jr believed I should be calling the Council of Fashion Designers of America... as if I hadn't considered their lack of regulation wasn't a fit enough reason to ask them to start now. I called the government and the US government protected the ongoing abuse of women under George W Bush.

Another respondent from Nepal is quoted “ To get a good figure [some teenagers] go for starvation, thats anorexia as far as I know. I dont think it should be really promoted actually, yeah. Um if they want a good figure, they should really work hard, they could exercise instead of starving themselves. (Crawford) This Nepali has noticed that the sense of beauty is absent in the results of starvation and when people exercise and develop muscle tone with a healthy relationship with food; they look better. Amazing. So far Nepali peasants have more credible public health policy than the past three US Presidential Administrations, including Obama.

Locals observed the effects of the Kathmandu beauty pageant event in girls from 10-12. Suddenly they were very obsessed with their appearance. In other research about Pageants events in Chinatown, San Francisco and among Latin Americans came to identify some polarizing differences. Larsen raised an observation in the first thirty-five years of Miss America pageants nonwhites were banned from participating. “Latina characters in television and movies are lusty and hot-tempered objects of desire.” In this frame the pageant wants to downplay sexuality as a component of beauty.

“dressmakers modified the design of the Cheong-sam to emphasize the cleavage area, creating the “poured-in look” so high desired. Furthermore, the slit up the side of the dress was increased “to endow the basically simple Cheong-sam with a touch of intrigue..., a tantalizing suggestion about the beauty of its wearer. (Wu) The Chinese American researcher felt that beauty and sexuality are entwined correctly in race -tradition contexts. It seems objectified as the west's definition of beauty invaded the Chinese culture's traditional dress. In my valuation the Latina represents the intimidating female forceful of her will. She's obedience to misogyny. The Chinese female is profiled in western terms no greater than Vietnamese village teens/ preteens some of the US military took indulgence in raping between 1955 and 1975.

Cynthia Gouw investigated the pageant field with the intent to deconstruct and criticize it from a Leftist Feminist Viewpoint. ( Wu) Having entered the pageant as a contestant she remarked “I didnt feel exploited at all. I want to show people I can be very articulate and assertive as opposed to a stereotypical beauty pageant winner.. What I want to represent to the Asian population is that I am very concerned about the community. “One benefit pageant contestants have in events distant from western norms is they are protected by their community's unique priorities and cultural norms. Pageants in Nigeria had abusive staff that heavily enforced classism. If a contestant wasn't walking with the elegance per his commands they would accuse contestants of being mere “market women”. The Queen Nigeria pageant didn’t want their female contestants at all comparable to market women, a slur for rural laborers having stereotypes as 'rough and brash”. (Balogun)

I took a moment to type in “brash” to the Google search engine to see what definition it would offer.

Brash

self-assertive in a rude, noisy, or overbearing way.

“he could be brash, cocky and arrogant”,

Strange, the pageant believes it is helping young Nigerian girls to be empowered but suppressing and denouncing parts of the Nigerian culture that are already assertive. In the west we tend to understand this brash concept as 'a ratchet bitch” of low class. In the pageant's sense of empowerment , the female is empowered to simply be a better mate but kept from being so confident and wordsmithed that she could tell off a guy in terms on an even turf of vulgarity, insult, belittling, aggression and verbal abuse.

Chaperones affiliated to the Queen Nigeria pageant remarked of contestants”Each year she comes back cleaner and cleaner”. The comment was investigated for its inner meaning. “ Each time (contestant) returns to audition her skin looks fairer” and was to mean a physical change in the condition of the contestants skin from makeup treatments. (Balogun) Balogun found other research suggesting that this skin change was also a lightening to improve chances of upward mobility. I reference this quote especially because it is an absolute parallel to the arrogance haute couture designers and runway specialized model agencies have in objectifying their models as a property of creation rather than the individual within of blood, bone, estrogen and diet coke. Maybe the fashion model has never been an individual and why all the reason more she chases having a meaningful identity. She takes the pageants brand, is milked for her camera appeal, moos a few times for the question/answer bit and heads off to slaughter as an aged and spent heifer short of the aristocrats desires. The fashion industry has value because it attracted contestants in magazines and television to make it a goal in their lives; A superfluous goal too often.

The female icons in magazines like Vogue must then be empowering too. Said of a magazine with Emma Watson on the cover:”Like in Neon you have some inspiring series . But when I look through women's magazines I dont have a role model for my life (Informant A). (Put) Ellen Put's research on womens magazines revealed some other criticisms about the periodicals. Informants regarded them “flat and uninspiring”, “it was bullshit”, “it was boring when they say this is all about makeup and what to buy..”, “sometimes I read it just for fun just wondering what they are saying”, “Men are always dark, taller, though” . Ellen Put's article revealing these views was titled “ They Think We're Stupid”. We can dovetail the pageant social effects on Nepali teens, the magazine reactions, the whitening and sterilizing of the ethnicity from Ethnic specific beauty pageants and reveal a tame appealing factory of creating the ideal woman out of real women's dreams and then normalizing the ideal woman as a public health nightmare. By creating an international norm among pageants and modeling, the luxury market announces it is deaf to the anthropological heritage, biome, diet and geography that appreciates and carved out natural beauty of each continent's peoples and subgroups. There is no similar basis of lifestyle to normalize a common shape. Ever. The commonality is as the pageants product of “Female in a Can” nested on shelf among all other pageant's new talent.

What can be shown here is if the ideal female of poise and elegant, confident public address can also be trained to be shallow then she will be an ideal elite mate to be whisked away by a dominating male , possibly of a dark complexion. What could a dark complexion signal if the ideals of beauty are Caucasian-Western centric? Perhaps the fashion media have found a new way to wear Black face. I'd say they signal to ladies their obligation to the marketed Caucasian gender role rewards them with an ideal males lust and African Americans large..Luh-arge penis stereotypes. A proper pageant contestant, such as those in Nigeria, and frequenters of upperclass cultural norms are required to retire secondhand and counterfeit clothing/accessories that flood the market. Only authentic (Nigerian) couture is allowed while they are representing the pageant as winner or groomed contestant. (Balogun)

Winners of the Nepal Pageant were not allowed to marry for one year , the year representing the pageant in Miss World and at events ( Alzaga). For a pageant that allegedly“empowers women”, taking away her right to relationship seems a premium failure in respect of their freedom. (Crawford) A premium failure by contestants to oblige as well. Standards in Texas pageants also had stipulations against marriages, against having children, tolerance for annulments and further expectation that the contestants would be in high school.(Mosel-Talavera) Not all requirements related to the same pageant.

One author was also a Texas ex pageant model. She recounted her experience,.

“I am standing on stage in my highschool auditorium wearing the most expensive dress I have ever bought from Foleys, waiting for the announcer to call my name. Everyone told me I was a shoo-in to win the title. I was not even nervous as she called out the runners-up, still thinking my name would be next. “ And the winner is … What? Not Me?” Texas is also known for its biased education dept materials, being an origin of many christianity inspired sex cults and race supremacist camps. For a female to believe her high school preparation is the best source for speaking in any form to the intelligence of all women, especially here, is bald faced mockery.

A highschooler of a single mother saw pageants as a means to get money for college. Through her experience contacting attorneys and other professionals for sponsorships, building a website, and being visible to the public she was contacted by teachers to speak to their classes about her experience. “Emma” as the article infers her name.. said

“ Now I work for two different attorneys. I didn’t expect that you know. All kinds of things people messaged me about my platform and how they feel about my on-stage question, my website got a lot of people to notice it. So, I had teachers that went and saw my website and messaged me about coming and speaking to their classes and like I wish I knew all this stuff going into it. It was like I really set a foundation for myself for next year I think. It’s pretty cool. And I know that sounds cheesy or cliché but

it is honestly the truth and basically pushing myself because once I found

myself around other females who were just as ambitious as I was or as I am.” (Bowers)

The concept these females are experiencing is known as habitus. By meeting other contestants who have found meaning in pageants they too have a common vocabulary and ladder of goals neatly set before them. For women who feel baffled and smothered under the weight and anxiety of being objectified, pageants do have experiential benefits along with the potential among bad actors to be experientially sexually assaulted. That a female knows and can identify a ladder of goals may be a model of education that can be implemented elsewhere and more productively. If pageants have a credible impact on a females life, that impact is offset so severely with removing ethnic markings and norms. The pageants really just brand their contestants for events further up the hierarchy like Miss World, Miss Universe, Miss Infinity and beyond.

What I've concluded from these readings is that pageants reward the Grant Cardone proverb “ Best Known Beats Best”. A former pageant contestant working for an attorney makes the legal field seem beautiful. Wealth and fame is not just wealth , its vanity. If the lifestyles of the wealthy were papered over with ugly people, nobody would want it. Why is a good speaking 'broad' an appealing take for the Hollywood and Vegas bruno's? They need a good girl who'll manage a maid to clean the house good, sound intelligent in public, have some loyalty to criminal organizations, and announce her husbands name for all sorts of functions, awards and novelties her pride can glow alongside. Meanwhile the crowd can either respect her poise or be among the low classes remaining low class regarding the guest of honor's subtle associate. ' yeah , I'm banging her”. Perhaps its more the audience needing poise. Donald Trumps association with First Lady Melania spoke clearly of his personal codependence on her first as a White House nude centerfold. How pageants are accepted in a community is an age, state , local and national chaos of sexual maturity imbalances and education gaps.

On another angle I have captured the subtext of the pageants brand. Pageants are a measure of the females acquisition of themes from the community that are specifically dedicated to making her a good mother. “Critics from the political right, on the other hand, tend to focus on what they view as a loss of women’s purity, submissiveness, and modesty, virtues identified with nationalistic representations of ‘traditional’ cultures”(Crawford) The conservatives have made a complaint about their own side far behind the lines of rhetoric. The female is still submissive with shallow appreciations of her luxury stake. She is surely kept modest with abusive manners training and remaining under the thumb of pageant officials or talent agents for the remainder of her career. The rhetoric doesn't match the reality. Conservatives conceal that norms of oppression are not absent from the gender roles of rich couples either For each class a different type of submissive female for tradition.

Pageant and fashion event locations are hand in hand with the promotion of luxury and recreational items like sports cars, wine, cigars, yachts, boxing/mma fights, These items are considered to have high cultural capital relative to the western world. Wealth is often presumed to have high cultural capital.. Wealth is also presumed to have privileges.. like raping a girl and then threatening to humiliate her with a tabloid smear and a legal battle she couldn’t afford. Ask NFL lawyers what services their players require when police reports surface. Wealth has such cultural capital that the justice system allows criminals out of lockup based on their word to return to trial. The pageant is an advertisement of women inviting them to feel impressed by their changes when the most extensive modifications are still very above her awareness.

The only advantage a female has from the pageant developed microphone skill is to be free to say whatever wise viewpoint elevates her credibility and by whatever lengths she finds necessary to bring down anyone else.. Her voice of empowerment must be on her own terms and not under anyone elses by contract, marriage prenup or otherwise. Well, as long as she's making good decisions and prioritizing the public health ahead of her own vanity and fame. If she chooses to trade even the smallest of her rights of federally guaranteed self protection and safety then she has traded the entirety of her dignity and her own respect of being a female.

Citations

Alzaga R J B (2015. June) The Lucky One: A Constructivist Study on Pageant Women's Conceptualization of Empowerment. University of Philippines Manila.

Balogun O M Gender & SOCIETY, Vol. 26 No. 3, June 2012 357-381

Bowers E(2016) Social Stereotyping and Self-Esteem of Miss America Pageant Contestants. Walden University. Thesis

Crawford M, Khati D, Regmi A (2008.Feb)Globalizing Beauty:Attitudes Toward Beauty Pageants Among Nepali Women. Feminism & Psychology.xx

Fredrickson, B.L., Roberts, T. (1997). Objectification Theory. Psychology of Women Quarterly.,

U.S.A.

Larsen D (2011-2012.Winter Spring) Miss America Beauty Pageant. pg31-33

Concientización: A Journal of Chicano & Latino Experience and Thought Vol 7 (1 & 2)

Matthews, Brook. (2003). Miss America Contestants and the Self: Evidence for Empowerment. Ronai,

C.R., Zsembik, B., Feagin, J. (1997) Everyday Sexism in the Third Millenium.

Routledge, U.S.A

McLaughlin EC (2019.Jul 22) Ex-Miss Michigan says pageant dethroned her for conservative views.CNN

Mosel-Talavera KM(2006)Growing Up Female In Texas:The Importance of Beauty Pageants In Texas Communities.A Woman's Touch Folklore Kenneth L Untiedt. University of North Texas Press

Mosk M, Ross B, Kreider R(2016.Mar 10)Trump Model: Felt Like 'Slave' Working for Donald's Agency.

ABC News

.

https://abcnews.go.com/Politics/trump-model-felt-slave-working-donalds-agency/story?id=37313993

Put E(2017)”They Think We're Stupid”. Jonkoping University.Thesis

Revesz R(2016.Oct12)Donald Trump boasted about meeting semi-naked teenagers in beauty pageants.IndependentUK,https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/donald-trump-former-miss-arizona-tasha-dixon-naked-undressed-backstage-howard-stern-a7357866.html

Tonn M B(2003)Miss America Contesters and Contestants: Discourse About Social “Also-Rans”Rhetoric & Public Affairs6, no. 1 (2003): 150-60. doi:10.1353/rap.2003.0037.

Withnall A(2016.Oct 10)Donald Trump's unsettling record of comments about his daughter Ivanka.IndependentUK

https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/us-politics/donald-trump-ivanka-trump-creepiest-most-unsettling-comments-roundup-a7353876.html

Wu J T-C (1997.Autumn) "Loveliest Daughter of Our Ancient Cathay!": Representations of Ethnic and Gender Identity in the Miss Chinatown U.S.A. Beauty Pageant. Journal of Social History, Vol. 31, No. 1, , pp. 5-31

Zimmerman N (2016.Oct 13) Trump told 14-year-old girl he'd be dating her soon. The Hill. https://thehill.com/blogs/blog-briefing-room/news/300928-trump-told-14-year-old-girl-hell-be-dating-her-soon

[quitetommy]

a collection of us

this is NOT edited and im sorry whoops!! but i hope yall enjoy! theres no warnings for this bc its all fluff :’)

A collection of adorably soft moments from the Holland household (as seen by Y/N, Tom, and others)

[person A and person B pressing their faces together sleepily, not even kissing, just resting their foreheads together, noses brushing, breathing each other in.]

The day was no longer upon her, the sun was far away now. The window next to her was opened, the moonlight and wind creeping in. It was late, far too late for her. Normally, she’d be fast asleep dreaming about the day her pretty boy would be back. Why was she still up? Well, today was that day; today was the day her handsome boy would be coming back. She would finally smell his gorgeous smell again, hear his pretty laugh, look into those pretty brown eyes she loved so much. 

It was hell being without him, sure, she had her own things going on and she was able to live without him but that didn’t mean she wanted to. He was her boy and she’d do anything to be with him. She’d do anything for that boy. He could ask her to help him rob a bank and she’d be driving the getaway car, for whatever he wanted she was there. And fortunately, he was her ride or die, as well. She needed a buddy? He was there with laughs and sappy movies to watch. She needed a shoulder to cry on? He was there with his shoulder and tissues and many, many hugs. She needed an alibi? He was already thinking of all the things they were supposedly doing to save her from the many troubling things that would snatch her away from him. 

Point is they were each other’s one. You know, each other’s soulmate. The pair put the whole ‘red string of fate’ thing to shame. They were the ones that everyone wanted to be. He was the perfect boy that every girl wanted and she was the pretty girlfriend that everyone wanted on their team. They were it for each other, it was that simple. 

So, two-thirty in the morning, and here she was wide awake. Her hair was messily up in a bun, face free of any makeup and she had on one of his many hoodies purposely left behind. This was his favorite look, every time he saw her like this, he knew he knew he had made the right choice picking her. A cup of green tea was steaming on the side table (although Tom always made it better than she could- must be the British in him), and she had one of her many ratty old poetry books open on her lap. Her eyes and brain soaked up the perfectly strung together sentences while her ears tuned into the quiet music playing from the shitty speaker across the room. 

It was quiet for awhile, nothing disturbing the girl other than her music and page turning-- that was until she heard the familiar sound of keys being thrusted into the lock before unlocking. His pretty girl heard the door open and then shut, bags hitting the floor, before she heard his angelic voice call out. “Darlin’, you awake?” 

Jumping up and throwing her already read book somewhere, Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. His voice was everything- everything she missed, everything she loved, everything she wanted. She, of course, had heard it over the phone for the course of the past few months, but this was different. This was real. This was only right outside in the living room, this was a clear voice, no static following. This was her pretty boy. 

Squealing, she made her way out to him, arms opened wide. His arms were open, too, like he was waiting for her to occupy the space in them. Hell, of course he was. He hadn’t held his girl in months and he refused to go another second without feeling her. Once she was close enough, he closed his toned arms around her and spun around, pulling excited laughs out of his girl. 

“Hi pretty girl,” his voice was loud in her ear, but she didn’t care. He was right here, after months and months of being away.

“Hi, Tommy.”

Euphoric. That’s what he was feeling, god, he had missed his pretty girl. Her fingers curled into his hair, pulling his face down to hers, pressing a short series of kisses to his surprisingly soft lips (they were always so damn soft, and she wasn’t ever sure how, she had never seen him use any fucking chapstick). This went on for a few seconds longer, each putting trying to put all their love into said kisses, before their chests started to burn from lack of oxygen. Neither wanted to pull away, Tom whining when Y/N finally did. But after a quick breath, he dove back in, wanting to be close to her. Smiles came in between their kisses, eventually small gasps leaving them both. Their kisses were long and left the other wanting more. Both Tom and Y/N’s arms were pulling each other close, holding them there like they were going to disappear. 

Pushing herself on her toes, Y/N rested her head in the crook of her boy’s neck, breathing in his scent. “I missed you.”

He smiled, his heart warming his chest up. He was sure that she could hear his heartbeat. It was so loud, louder than he wished, but he couldn’t care any less because he could recall a time when Y/N had told him she loved hearing his heartbeat. 

In the most loving way, he pulled away from her, placing his forehead against hers, smiling. The tiredness only now hitting them. He giggled and placed a soft kiss to her nose after she yawned. Their noses were touching, eyes closed in content. “Missed you too, my love.”

 [person A and person B falling asleep together with their heads on the other’s shoulder/head in the backseat of the car while their friend is driving.]

Besides each other, the most important thing to both Tom and Y/N was family. And within family was friends, and they each tried to spend as much time as they could with said family. Which is why Tom and Y/N were both currently in the back of a cramped car. 

A car that was headed two hours away to a very pretty campsite with lots of outside activities. They were all taking a break from their busy schedules to have quality time together. In front was Tom’s best friend, Harrison, and his girlfriend Angel. 

Haz and Angel had been dating for a little over a year (a little short of Tom and Y/N’s long two years), and they were loved just as much as the couple in the back. 

The sun was just barely peeking over the distance, making the sky a pretty pink and orange collage. The radio clock read 6:43AM and Y/N was seriously reconsidering this trip. 

Music was softly playing from the car speakers and Y/N was very grateful for the stop for coffee they had made only twenty minutes earlier. The flavored drink was happily making its way down her throat when Harrison finally spoke. 

“So, I was looking at this place up online, Tom, and they recommended a course only ten minutes away!” Harrison’s free hand was on his pretty girlfriend's leg. Both girlfriends laughed, sharing the funny fact that they were in love with complete dorks. Tom’s eyes widened and a smile broke out onto his face, “Sick! We can go tonight when we’re settled?”

“Sure, man. What are you two planning on doing?” Harrison directed the second part of his response at his girl. Taking a sip of her iced drink, she shrugged looking at her friend in the backseat. 

“Probably just lay out,” the younger of the two suggested, she was silently hoping that Angel was content with that because all Y/N wanted to do was get tan. It had been so long since she tanned that her lovely boyfriend had started calling her casper. It was not fun. The girl desperately needed some sun. When Angel smiled and nodded, Y/N started to get excited at the thought of the warm sun touching her skin. 

It was then that Harrison had decided that had been enough conversation and he turned up the radio. The song that first played was one of the overplayed ones that everyone collectively hated but no one ever had the heart to change. It was extremely annoying, but Y/N found herself humming along and tapping her fingers to the beat on the back of Tom’s hand. They had been holding hands for awhile now and he had brought her hand up to his mouth to leave a soft kiss there, when she started singing. 

The sun was still rising and the couple up front was still quietly talking when Y/N felt Tom’s head fall onto her shoulder. Both of their coffees were long gone and they were not feeling the effects. Instead, they were growing increasingly sleepier, obviously Tom being the most tired seeing as how his eyes were closed and his baby snores were escaping his mouth. 

His pretty girl smiled upon seeing this. She was happy that he was sleeping, he never got enough. She quietly watched him sleep, the soft music that was playing soothing her nerves. Her heart warmed at the sleepy boy, he snuggled closer to her. Her eyes roamed over the small amount of freckles on his nose and the way that his long eyelashes curved over his cheekbones. She watched as his chest rose and fell with each breath, she watched as his fingers subconsciously tightened around hers. 

And unbeknownst to them, Harrison was watching them through the mirror, smiling as Y/N rested her head on her sleepy boy, falling asleep herself. 

[person B falls asleep in person A’s lap and person A is having a conversation with someone else while stroking person B’s hair.]

Long days were not something that was new to Tom and Y/N. They were both used to the long nights and the even longer nights. Tom’s job was not something that they took for granted but it wasn’t helpful when Tom barely got any sleep. Y/N, being the amazing girl she is, was constantly asking him if he was feeling alright, if he was getting enough sleep; eating enough. He loved that about her; how much she cared for those she loved. 

Tom loved his job, sure, but he hated how easily overworked he got. He sometimes just wished he could spend all day with his pretty girl. He wanted nothing more than to be with his girl and stay in bed all day. He would be happy just being with her, no matter what they were doing. As long as he was with his girl he would be perfect. 

Just like now, he was beyond tired and he missed his girl so, so fucking much. So here he was, laying in his girls arms, head in her lap. Harrison was over, happily talking to Y/N about everything and anything. The television was playing in the background at a low volume. Tom’s head was on Y/N’s leg and his body was stretched out on the rest of the couch. He was comfortably in an old hoodie and sweats, all matched up with some fuzzy socks his girl had bought him for his birthday. When he first pulled the spiderman covered socks out of the bag he laughed, a little confused on why he had received socks, but when he tried them out he was in heaven, gaining many “i told you so”s from his girlfriend. 

Tom’s hand was placed on Y/N’s exposed knee, thumb rubbing lovingly. Y/N’s and Harrison’s voice was melting together, blurring in his very tired mind. He felt his girl lean down, lips pressing on his temple before finding his ear and whispering, “It’s okay, pretty boy, go to sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up.” He hummed in response, letting sleep overtake him. He was so, so happy being there with his girl, while she rubbed his curls away from his face while she talked with their friend. He would be happy here with her for the rest of his life and he was completely content with this fact.

[person A helping person B dry and brush their hair after a shower.]

Long and hard days were not something that only Tom owned. They were something Y/N also occasionally had. When her long days came around, she was more whiny than her boy. She would stomp in and throw her things down before finding and latching herself to her pretty guy. She would moan and groan until he dropped everything and gave her the attention she wanted. She would giggle and smile as Tom kissed all over her face. She’d pull him to the couch and snuggle up against him, eyes closed tightly in hopes of shutting away the whole word. 

She’d frown and cry until Tom would push her hair away from her face, softly asking, “Wanna talk about it, darlin’?” 

She’d never want to. She would just shake her head and say, “Just want you.”

He’d smile and he’d feel his heart warm. God, he loved her. He would do anything to see her smile, even if that meant letting her attach herself to him like they were one person. “How ‘bout a shower? Hmm? Might make you feel better.” 

That’s all it took, a shower and she’d come to her senses and realize that everything was alright and that she was being a little ridiculous(not that Tom cared, though, he wouldn’t care if she was the biggest drama queen around, he’d still love her). During her shower, he would gather up her comfiest clothes, including one of his jumpers that she loved (he even would spray it with his cologne so it smelled like him even more) and he’d place them on the sink where she could easily grab them. Sometimes if it was a bad night, he’d help her into siad clothes, but without fail, every time one of these nights happened he would always brush out her knotted hair. This would calm her nerves and to be honest, he liked playing with her hair. She would sleepily stand in front of the bathroom mirror and he’d comb out her hair while whispering sweet nothings to her or singing softly to her. And without fail, every night, she’d turn on her heal and softly kiss her boy, mumbling a very, very cute “I love you.” and then everything was right in the world because he had her and she had him and that’s all they needed.

@laureharrier @spider-bitten @bi-writer-in-the-dark @marvelouspottering @quacksin @friendscallme-emily @smexylemony @tom-hollands-eyelash @tomblrholland @spidey-pal @lovelyh0lland @spideymood @positiveparker @procrastinatingparker @your-daily-dose-of-fangirl @Bodakcello @sleepybesson @spideyshcllands @its-the-unknownspidey @tomshufflepuff @aestheticgaybish @bellaamarvel87 @peterparker-glee-other @kisses-holland @peterparkersbodyguard @ghostofdrfluke @avengersmarvelsocials @musicgirl234 

crossed out means it wont tag ya

[piaritemun1985-blog]

In building wiring, the hot wire and the neutral wire never touch directly. The charge running through the circuit always passes through an appliance, which acts as a resistor. In this way, the electrical resistance in appliances limits how much charge can flow through a circuit (with a constant voltage and a constant resistance, the current must also be constant). In fact, i rarely had a pimple. Now however, I have a ton of small bumps on my forehead particularly on my t zone. I been thinking of implemeting a bha for it, I suspecting hard cc but i not entirely sure. I was recently able to find an original pressing of Funkadelic's Uncle Jam Wants You. Most of the listings Iv'e found were reissues (not that theres anything wrong with that I just wanted an original copy) with some scuff marks and scratches. This one has a small mark on the cover and some edge wear but the vinyl itself is near mint.. Supplied video obtained Wednesday, January 10, 2019 of a "fatberg", a mass of congealed waste in a sewer under the British seaside town of Sidmouth in the county of Devon. South West Water describes the mass as Devon's "largest fatberg" and has made an appeal to the public to stop pouring cooking oil, fat and grease down the sink and flushing wet wipes down the toilet. (AAP Video/Supplied/South West Water) NO ARCHIVING, EDITORIAL USE ONLYBut the sewerage equipment covered in wet wipes isn even the worst of its problems the organisation has reported finding live snakes, underwear, a finger, a doorstop and false teeth.. When Shourd was imprisoned in Iran, she was arguably among the least equipped people to cope, because her incarceration came out of the blue. People in her circumstances have their world suddenly inverted, and there is nothing in the manner of their taking no narrative of sacrifice, or enduring for a greater good to help them derive meaning from it. They must somehow find meaning in their predicament or mentally detach themselves from their day to day reality, 시흥출장샵 which is a monumental task when alone.. We might have multiple things going on. Only getting worse for me. Every mission or free roam I played yesterday had this bug. All the people in the comments who know sign language so they can pretend they are deaf. Someone teach me please. I don know what it is about me, but I get cornered by strangers who want 시흥출장샵 to have a conversation and it gives me such anxiety I avoid stores and public places. Usernames of non public figures (those who are NOT BGs, brand owners and reps, other influencers and social media personalities, or celebrities) must be obscured in screenshots. Fat or thin is relative to everybody else. There isn a generally agreed upon "standard" for the whole world. Age spots, for example, also known as liver spots, are a common sight on the skin of older people. These brown, gray or black flat spots are found on the parts of your body that have seen the most sun. Less sun equals less of a chance of age spots.. The EssentialsSo, yes I am definitely one of those women who dares not to step out of the house without makeup on. I am not a diva. Though I have heard I look pretty natural as well, I just love makeup! It's simple. O said the theft was terrifying for the young family.was just horrible they took the Xbox and the kid toys and they put everything in the family suitcases, which they would have seen at the open house, she said.we know that there are people out there who take advantage of anything and you just have to protect yourself as much as possible. McManus, principal of LJ Hooker Willoughby on Sydney affluent north shore, said open houses often posed a problem for vendors, with agents ensuring they arrive early to put away all valuables.would happen every open home if we didn take care and check everything before we opened, he said.He said the types of things that went missing included perfume and small items that weren easily missed.toys, hand bags and shoes, he said.advise vendors to stash away anything that can be put in hand bags or pockets.around the house before leaving and put everything away that can be carried out in a bag.always mention to my vendors to get the insurance company to cover them for the weeks of the campaign just in case something happens, as in someone falls or if something goes missing, then your covered, he said.make sure my clients are protected as best we can, then the insurance covers the rest if anything happens.haven had anything for some time now as we have three staff at all our opens and one that guards the door. TO PROTECTING YOUR BELONGINGS:Remove anything with identifying information bills, mail, or business documents which can be photographed or stolen.

[patriotsnet]

Why Is There Republicans And Democrats

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/why-is-there-republicans-and-democrats/

Why Is There Republicans And Democrats

How Things Got This Bad

Why Democrats and Republicans have different priorities on COVID relief

6) The Republican turn against democracy begins with race

Support for authoritarian ideas in America is closely tied to the countrys long-running racial conflicts.

This chart, from a September 2020 paper by Vanderbilt professor Larry Bartels, shows a statistical analysis of a survey of Republican voters, analyzing the link between respondents score on a measure of ethnic antagonism and their support for four anti-democratic statements .

The graphic shows a clear finding: The higher a voter scores on the ethnic antagonism scale, the more likely they are tosupport anti-democratic ideas. This held true even when Bartels used regression analyses to compare racial attitudes to other predictors, like support for Trump. The strongest predictor by far of these antidemocratic attitudes is ethnic antagonism, he writes.

For students of American history, this shouldnt be a surprise.

The 1964 Civil Rights Act and 1965 Voting Rights Act cemented Democrats as the party of racial equality, causing racially resentful Democrats in the South and elsewhere to defect to the Republican Party. This sorting process, which took place over the next few decades, is .

7) Partisanship causes Republicans to justify anti-democratic behavior

This chart is a little hard to parse, but it illustrates a crucial finding from one of the best recent papers on anti-democratic sentiment in America: how decades of rising partisanship made an anti-democratic GOP possible.

Taking The Perspective Of Others Proved To Be Really Hard

The divide in the United States is wide, and one indication of that is how difficult our question proved for many thoughtful citizens. A 77-year-old Republican woman from Pennsylvania was typical of the voters who struggled with this question, telling us, This is really hard for me to even try to think like a devilcrat!, I am sorry but I in all honesty cannot answer this question. I cannot even wrap my mind around any reason they would be good for this country.

Similarly, a 53-year-old Republican from Virginia said, I honestly cannot even pretend to be a Democrat and try to come up with anything positive at all, but, I guess they would vote Democrat because they are illegal immigrants and they are promised many benefits to voting for that party. Also, just to follow what others are doing. And third would be just because they hate Trump so much. The picture she paints of the typical Democratic voter being an immigrant, who goes along with their party or simply hates Trump will seem like a strange caricature to most Democratic voters. But her answer seems to lack the animus of many.  

Democrats struggled just as much as Republicans. A 33-year-old woman from California told said, i really am going to have a hard time doing this but then offered that Republicans are morally right as in values, going to protect us from terrorest and immigrants, going to create jobs.

Reality Check 3: The Democrats Legislative Fix Will Never Happenand Doesnt Even Touch The Real Threats

Its understandable why Democrats have ascribed a life-or-death quality to S. 1, the For the People bill that would impose a wide range of requirements on state voting procedures. The dozensor hundredsof provisions enacted by Republican state legislatures and governors represent a determination to ensure that the GOP thumb will be on the scale at every step of the voting process. The proposed law would roll that back on a national level by imposing a raft of requirements on statesno excuse absentee voting, more days and hours to votebut would also include public financing of campaigns, independent redistricting commissions and compulsory release of presidential candidates’ tax returns.

There are all sorts of Constitutional questions posed by these ideas. But theres a more fundamental issue here: The Constitutional clause on which the Democrats are relyingArticle I, Section 4, Clause 1gives Congress significant power over Congressional elections, but none over elections for state offices or the choosing of Presidential electors.

Vaccine Advocacy From Hannity And Mcconnell Gets The Media Off Republicans’ Backs But Won’t Shift Public Sentiment

Sean Hannity, Mitch McConnell and Tucker Carlson

Amid a rising media furor over the steady stream of vaccine disparagement from GOP politicians and Fox News talking heads, a number of prominent Republicans spoke up in favor of vaccines early this week.

On Tuesday, Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell told reporters, “shots need to get in everybody’s arm as rapidly as possible” and asked that people “ignore all of these other voices that are giving demonstrably bad advice.” House Minority Whip Rep. Steve Scalise of Louisiana, got the vaccine after months of delay and then publicly said, “there shouldn’t be any hesitancy over whether or not it’s safe and effective.” And Fox News host Sean Hannity, in a widely shared video, declared, it “absolutely makes sense for many Americans to get vaccinated.” This was treated in the press as an unequivocal endorsement, even though the use of the word “many” was clearly meant to let the Fox News viewers feel like he’s talking about other people getting vaccinated. 

Is this an exciting pivot among the GOP elites?  Are they abandoning the sociopathic strategy of sabotaging President Joe Biden’s anti-pandemic plan by encouraging their own followers to get sick? Are the millions of Republicans who keep telling pollsters they will never get that Democrat shot going to change their minds now? 

Ha ha ha, no.

Want more Amanda Marcotte on politics? Subscribe to her newsletter Standing Room Only.

Matthew Gertz July 20, 2021

Jefferson And Jeffersonian Principles

Jeffersonian democracy was not a one-man operation. It was a large political party with many local and state leaders and various factions, and they did not always agree with Jefferson or with each other.

Jefferson was accused of inconsistencies by his opponents. The “Old Republicans” said that he abandoned the Principles of 1798. He believed the national security concerns were so urgent that it was necessary to purchase Louisiana without waiting for a Constitutional amendment. He enlarged federal power through the intrusively-enforced . He idealized the “yeoman farmer” despite being himself a gentleman plantation owner. The disparities between Jefferson’s philosophy and practice have been noted by numerous historians. Staaloff proposed that it was due to his being a proto-; claimed that it was a manifestation of pure hypocrisy, or “pliability of principle”; and Bailyn asserts it simply represented a contradiction with Jefferson, that he was “simultaneously a radical utopian idealist and a hardheaded, adroit, at times cunning politician”. However, Jenkinson argued that Jefferson’s personal failings ought not to influence present day thinkers to disregard Jeffersonian ideals.

, a European nobleman who opposed democracy, argues that “Jeffersonian democracy” is a misnomer because Jefferson was not a democrat, but in fact believed in rule by an elite: “Jefferson actually was an Agrarian Romantic who dreamt of a republic governed by an elite of character and intellect”.

Reality Check #4: The Electoral College And The Senate Are Profoundly Undemocraticand Were Stuck With Them

Because the Constitution set up a state-by-state system for picking presidents, the massive Democratic majorities we now see in California and New York often mislead us about the partys national electoral prospects. In 2016, Hillary Clintons 3-million-vote plurality came entirely from California. In 2020, Bidens 7-million-vote edge came entirely from California and New York. These are largely what election experts call wasted votesDemocratic votes that dont, ultimately, help the Democrat to win. That imbalance explains why Trump won the Electoral College in 2016 and came within a handful of votes in three states from doing the same last November, despite his decisive popular-vote losses.

The response from aggrieved Democrats? Abolish the Electoral College! In practice, theyd need to get two-thirds of the House and Senate, and three-fourths of the state legislatures, to ditch the process that gives Republicans their only plausible chance these days to win the White House. Shortly after the 2016 election, Gallup found that Republican support for abolishing the electoral college had dropped to 19 percent. The National Popular Vote Interstate Compact, a state-by-state scheme to effectively abolish the Electoral College without changing the Constitution, hasnt seen support from a single red or purple state.

History Of The Democratic And Republican Parties

The Democratic Party traces its origins to the anti-federalist factions around the time of Americas independence from British rule. These factions were organized into the Democrat Republican party by Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and other influential opponents of the Federalists in 1792.

The Republican party is the younger of the two parties. Founded in 1854 by anti-slavery expansion activists and modernizers, the Republican Party rose to prominence with the election of Abraham Lincoln, the first Republican president. The party presided over the American Civil War and Reconstruction and was harried by internal factions and scandals towards the end of the 19th century.

Since the division of the Republican Party in the election of 1912, the Democratic party has consistently positioned itself to the left of the Republican Party in economic as well as social matters. The economically left-leaning activist philosophy of Franklin D. Roosevelt, which has strongly influenced American liberalism, has shaped much of the party’s economic agenda since 1932. Roosevelt’s New Deal coalition usually controlled the national government until 1964.

The Republican Party today supports a pro-business platform, with foundations in economic libertarianism, and fiscal and social conservatism.

Adams And The Revolution Of 1800

Shortly after Adams took office, he dispatched a group of envoys to seek peaceful relations with France, which had begun attacking American shipping after the ratification of the Jay Treaty. The failure of talks, and the French demand for bribes in what became known as the XYZ Affair, outraged the American public and led to the Quasi-War, an undeclared naval war between France and the United States. The Federalist-controlled Congress passed measures to expand the army and navy and also pushed through the Alien and Sedition Acts. The Alien and Sedition Acts restricted speech that was critical of the government, while also implementing stricter naturalization requirements. Numerous journalists and other individuals aligned with the Democratic-Republicans were prosecuted under the Sedition Act, sparking a backlash against the Federalists. Meanwhile, Jefferson and Madison drafted the Kentucky and Virginia Resolutions, which held that state legislatures could determine the constitutionality of federal laws.

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They go further than merely believing the 2020 election was stolen, a nearly unanimous view among the bunch. Over 90 percent oppose making it easier for people to vote; roughly 70 percent would support a hypothetical third term for Trump .

The MAGA movement, Blum and Parker write, is a clear and present danger to American democracy.

2) Republicans are embracing violence

The ultimate expression of anti-democratic politics is resorting to violence. More than twice as many Republicans as Democrats nearly two in five Republicans said in a January poll that force could be justified against their opponents.

It would be easy to dismiss this kind of finding as meaningless were it not for the January 6 attack on Capitol Hill and the survey was conducted about three weeks after the attack. Republicans recently saw what political violence in the United States looked like, and a large fraction of the party faithful seemed comfortable with more of it.

These attitudes are linked to the party elites rhetoric: The more party leaders like Trump attack the democratic political system as rigged against them, the more Republicans will believe it and conclude that extreme measures are justifiable. A separate study found that Republicans who believe Democrats cheated in the election were far likelier to endorse post-election violence.

Early Life And Career

John Quincy Adams entered the world at the same time that his maternal great-grandfather, John Quincy, for many years a prominent member of the Massachusettslegislature, was leaving ithence his name. He grew up as a child of the American Revolution. He watched the Battle of Bunker Hill from Penns Hill and heard the cannons roar across the Back Bay in Boston. His patriot father, John Adams, at that time a delegate to the Continental Congress, and his patriot mother, Abigail Smith Adams, had a strong molding influence on his education after the war had deprived Braintree of its only schoolmaster. In 1778 and again in 1780 the boy accompanied his father to Europe. He studied at a private school in Paris in 177879 and at the University of Leiden, Netherlands, in 1780. Thus, at an early age he acquired an excellent knowledge of the French language and a smattering of Dutch. In 1780, also, he began to keep regularly the diary that forms so conspicuous a record of his doings and those of his contemporaries through the next 60 years of American history. Self-appreciative, like most of the Adams clan, he once declared that, if his diary had been even richer, it might have become “next to the Holy Scriptures, the most precious and valuable book ever written by human hands.”

c.

Democratic View On Healthcare

Democrats have always been in favor of governmental involvement in the wellbeing of Americans, especially the most vulnerable among us. Healthcare reform has been a primary focus for the party since the middle of the Twentieth Century. Medicare, Medicaid, Childrens Health Insurance Program , and the ACA are all major reforms the Democrats fought for and got passed into law. During this election season, healthcare is arguably the hottest topic of debate, and Democrats are pushing for further expansion across the board. The key phrase to remember is quality, affordable health care for all Americans.

Obama And Trump Healthcare Policies Compared

There could not be a more radical divide between administrations than there is between these two. The Obama administration worked against almost insurmountable opposition from the GOP in order to pass the ACA. The Trump Administrations quest is to dismantle everything the Obama Administration has done. They even have court cases pending in order to do so.

When Was The Republican And Democratic Parties Formed

The Democratic Party was founded by Andrew Jackson Martin Van Buren on January 8, 1828, in Baltimore, Maryland, USA. He was the United States seventh president but the first democratic President.

The Democratic Partys shocking emergence can be linked to the countrys anti-federalist factions. It was during that time the United States of America gained independence from British colonial masters.

The anti-federalist factions, which democrats originated from, were also grouped into the Democrat-Republican party. This was done in 1792 by James Madison, Thomas Jefferson, and other federalists influential opponents.

On the other hand, the Republican Party is pretty much younger than the Democratic Party. It was formed in 1854 by anti-slavery modernizers and activists.

The republicans were against the expansion of slavery in Western territories. They fought hard to protect African Americans rights after the civil war.

The Republican Party is often known as GOP. The meaning is Grand Old Party. The first Republican President was Abraham Lincoln. From Lincolns emergence, Republican Party started gaining ground in America.

The Legal Fight Over Voting Rights During The Pandemic Is Getting Hotter

Or as former Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker, a Republican, told NPR, there are no “fair” maps in the discussion about how to draw voting districts because what Democrats call “fair” maps are those, he believes, that favor them.

No, say voting rights groups and many Democrats the only “fair” way to conduct an election is to admit as many voters as possible. Georgia Democrat Stacey Abrams, who has charged authorities in her home state with suppressing turnout, named her public interest group Fair Fight Action.

Access vs. security

The pandemic has added another layer of complexity with the new emphasis it has put on voting by mail. President Trump says he opposes expanding voting by mail, and his allies, including White House press secretary Kayleigh McEnany, call the process rife with opportunities for fraud.

Even so, Trump and McEnany both voted by mail this year in Florida, and Republican officials across the country have encouraged voting by mail.

Democrats, who have made election security and voting access a big part of their political brand for several years, argue that the pandemic might discourage people from going to old-fashioned polling sites.

Democrats Or Republicans: Who Has The Higher Income

In the end, many people assume Republicans are richer based on these figures. Although, this is only a look at the richest families and politicians in America though. In everyday American households, it seems that Democrats have a higher mean salary. Its true that many of the wealthiest families in the country are contributing to Republican campaigns. On the contrary, families registered as , statistically speaking.

These findings still have some loopholes in them, of course. For instance, the data was collected over the last 40 years or so. Moreover, it is only based on the most recently collected information. As you know, demographics are constantly changing. These figures may have been affected as well. There is also a margin of error with every type of data collection like this. So, what do you think? Who is richer? Democrats or Republicans?

Where Do Trump And Biden Stand On Key Issues

Reuters: Brian Snyder/AP: Julio Cortez

The key issues grappling the country can be broken down into five main categories: coronavirus, health care, foreign policy, immigration and criminal justice.

This year, a big focus of the election has been the coronavirus pandemic, which could be a deciding factor in how people vote, as the country’s contentious healthcare system struggles to cope.

The average healthcare costs for COVID-19 treatment is up to $US30,000 , an Americas Health Insurance Plans 2020 study has found.

Presidential Election Of 1808

This mayor joining the GOP says theres no Democratic Party anymore’

Speculation regarding Madison’s potential succession of Jefferson commenced early in Jefferson’s first term. Madison’s status in the party was damaged by his association with the embargo, which was unpopular throughout the country and especially in the Northeast. With the Federalists collapsing as a national party after 1800, the chief opposition to Madison’s candidacy came from other members of the Democratic-Republican Party. Madison became the target of attacks from Congressman , a leader of a faction of the party known as the . Randolph recruited James Monroe, who had felt betrayed by the administration’s rejection of the proposed with Britain, to challenge Madison for leadership of the party. Many Northerners, meanwhile, hoped that Vice President could unseat Madison as Jefferson’s successor. Despite this opposition, Madison won his party’s presidential nomination at the January 1808 . The Federalist Party mustered little strength outside New England, and Madison easily defeated Federalist candidate . At a height of only five feet, four inches , and never weighing more than 100 pounds , Madison became the most diminutive president.

What Is Thomas Jefferson Remembered For

Thomas Jefferson is remembered for being the primary writer of the Declaration of Independence and the third president of the United States. The fact that he owned over 600 enslaved people during his life while forcefully advocating for human freedom and equality made Jefferson one of Americas most problematic and paradoxical heroes.

Thomas Jefferson, , draftsman of the Declaration of Independence of the United States and the nations first secretary of state and second vice president and, as the third president , the statesman responsible for the Louisiana Purchase. An early advocate of total separation of church and state, he also was the founder and architect of the University of Virginia and the most eloquent American proponent of individual freedom as the core meaning of the American Revolution.

What Republican And Democrats Believe

Lets start with this example. There are one or more reasons why you chose that person to be your friend. It could be because of how he or she talks, sense of humor, intelligence, educational background, ideology, or other factors.

The bottom line is you made the individual your friend because of one or more factors you discovered in that person that pleases you. This explains why most people would prefer joining republicans than Democrats and vice versa.

Republicans and Democrats have diverse ideologies and beliefs. These beliefs or ideology is part of what draws people to join either political party.

Lets start with Republicans. What do Republicans believe in?

Republicans boast libertarian and centrist factions. But they primarily believe in social conservative policies. They abide by laws that help conserve their traditional values. These include opposition to abortion, marijuana use, and same-sex marriage.

So the Republican Partys platform is generally centered on American conservatism. It comprises establishment conservatives, Freedom Caucus, or Tea Party members, described as right-wing, populist, and far-right.

The Republican Partys position has changed over time. They now transcend beyond traditional values, which often includes Christian background. The Republicans evolved position now includes fiscal conservatism and foreign policy.

Heres a quick summary of what the Republican Party believes in:

Heres a quick look at what Democrats believe in:

Was The Donkey Originally A Jackass

Thomas Nast was an American cartoonist who joined the staff of Harpers Weekly in 1862. Nasts cartoons were very popular and his depiction of Santa Claus is still the most widely used version of the holiday icon we see today. During his career, Nast also drew many political cartoons that harshly criticized the policies of both parties.

Nast first used a donkey to represent the Democratic party as a whole in the 1870 cartoon A Live Jack-Ass Kicking a Lion in which Nast criticized the dominantly Democratic Southern newspaper industry as the Copperhead Press. While he did popularize the donkey, Nast wasnt the first person to use it in reference to the Democrats.

Over 40 years earlier during the presidential campaign of 1828, opponents of Democrat Andrew Jackson referred to him as a jackass. Jackson actually embraced the insult and used donkeys on several campaign posters. Nevertheless, cartoonist Anthony Imbert would use a Jackson-headed donkey to mock Jackson an 1833 political cartoon.

However, the donkey never really caught on after the end of Jacksons presidency, and Thomas Nast apparently had no knowledge that it ever was used to represent the Democrats.

Election Of 1796 And Vice Presidency

In the presidential campaign of 1796, Jefferson lost the electoral college vote to Federalist John Adams by 7168 and was thus elected vice president. As presiding officer of the Senate, he assumed a more passive role than his predecessor John Adams. He allowed the Senate to freely conduct debates and confined his participation to procedural issues, which he called an “honorable and easy” role. Jefferson had previously studied parliamentary law and procedure for 40 years, making him unusually well qualified to serve as presiding officer. In 1800, he published his assembled notes on Senate procedure as . Jefferson would cast only three in the Senate.

During the Adams presidency, the Federalists rebuilt the military, levied new taxes, and enacted the . Jefferson believed that these laws were intended to suppress Democratic-Republicans, rather than prosecute enemy aliens, and considered them unconstitutional. To rally opposition, he and James Madison anonymously wrote the , declaring that the federal government had no right to exercise powers not specifically delegated to it by the states. The resolutions followed the “” approach of Madison, in which states may shield their citizens from federal laws that they deem unconstitutional. Jefferson advocated , allowing states to invalidate federal laws altogether. Jefferson warned that, “unless arrested at the threshold”, the Alien and Sedition Acts would “necessarily drive these states into revolution and blood”.

[rennyji]

July 13th tweets...

July 13th tweets...

So I like all music that sounds good. From Rap to Becky G singing her song “Shower.”

Now, regarding Rap, some of the wording can make things awkward. I was blasting 99 problems remix from Jay Z feat Linkin Park. While listening, I’m at a red light in Tuckahoe. An elderly Caucasian woman walks across the street in front of my car, and Jay Z yells, “Ive got 99 problems but a b*tch ain’t one…” I can only imagine what goes through that old lady’s mind.

now from jay z’s perspective, in what older white men would call street language, when you think about it, from that one line, hes saying he has a slew of problems, but he’s so good or suave with women that, that part of his life is set…so in the spirit of expressions among some men like: “b*tches be trippin…” , it’s a crude way of referring to women for the sake of what is understood and accepted as cool.

Regardless,”99 problems” and the Linkin park remix really stimulate you or is invigorating. So it’s hard not to listen to it for the yelling and the tunes.

Then there’s DMX, God bless his soul.

While he sings”X Gon give it to ya” or even “Lord Give Me A Sign”,he also sings a song (I forget the name…oh yeah…it’s called “X is Coming” by DMX), where one of the lyrics is about how someone crossed him, pushes him, and how he lets his rage and anger manifest in threats. How does he express this? Well for one thing, he says he’ll shoot this guys wife…ummm ok. But then he says, if the guy who messed with him, has a daughter, and she’s 15 (he specifically mentions her as 15), DMX says, he, a grown man, will rape the 15 year old daughter. I mean WTF?! But maybe like poetry, you can’t take it literally, and you gotta see “what he means” or “where this hate?! Is coming from.” To rape a 15 year old daughter, words can’t express his hate for the dad or the offender, so he chooses those words.

“Hes basically saying, if you f*k with him, he won’t stop short of killing you. But he wants to take it a step further and say he is so spiteful, that he will screw you and ur entire family. Point being, don’t f*k with him.”

Even then, though I get where he’s going with lyrics, isn’t raping a 15 year old, pedophilia? Where there’s a Will, there’s a way, and there’s always more than one way to do something or say something. If he wants to express hate, why is this grown man talking that way about 15 year old girls?! I felt awkward with the elderly white woman walking in front of my car at Jay Z saying, I got 99 problems, but a b*tch ain’t one. It would be humiliating if that elderly white woman walked by my car while DMX expresses his hate toward haters, by talking about raping 15 year olds. I mean geez, WTF?! On a comical note, based on “what’s” said and “how” it’s said, theres the song “Last Night”by Diddy and Keyshia Cole. You gotta wonder how Keyshia Cole goes along with Diddy monologuing at the end of the song with :

“

Hello

Hey what's up?

I've been tryin' to reach you all night

That shit ain't funny not picking up the mutha fuckin' phone

Better stop fucking playing with a n*gga's feelings like that

You know how much I love you though right?

But for those couple of seconds though,

When I couldn't get in touch with you.

I'm ready to come over your house and shoot that mutha fucker up

You fuckin' dumb bitch

You better fuckin' not be there when I get over that house

[laughing]

That's really how it goes down right?”

Then there’s rap like from the artist, “Nas.” He has a song called “I can.” 

It’s inspirational, it has a message, the tune or background music just needs to be catchier. 

These rap songs need catchier, classier, diction along with trending or catchy tunes/music.

---

And then there’s Eminem, with “The Way I Am” song.

Part of the lyrics go:

“I don't know you, and no, I don't owe you a mothafuckin' thing

I'm not Mr. N'Sync, I'm not what your friends think

I'm not Mr. Friendly, I can be a prick if you tempt me

My tank is on empty, no patience is in me

And if you offend me, I'm lifting you ten feet in the air

I don't care who was there and who saw me just jaw you

Go call you a lawyer, file you a lawsuit

I'll smile in the courtroom and buy you a wardrobe

I'm tired of all you, I don't mean to be mean

But that's all I can be, it's just me

And I am whatever you say I am

If I wasn't, then why would I say I am?

In the paper, the news, every day I am

Radio won't even play my jam

'Cause I am whatever you say I am

If I wasn't, then why would I say I am?

In the paper, the news, every day I am, huh

I don't know, it's just the way I am”

While I’m about networking, by my core nature of a Libran (only inanimate object in the zodiac: the scales of justice), while I’m about people coming to me, talking to me, me talking to them, I hear this song and wonder about instances where the orchestrators filter what I’m saying or use it for their ends. I think about the instructions given to people under the delusion of “wtf?!” Assisting me?! Did anyone think of talking to me and telling me what’s going on, instead of the signs in a delusional scenario that is the definition of conspiracies and leaning toward what some doctors would see as paranoid schizophrenia?! I mean WTF?!  So there’s that part about not owing anything to anyone. If ur just a stranger randomly eavesdropping into my life, then until you speak to me, I don’t know you, I’m not ur friend NOR ur enemy- I mean that’s reality, that’s what the song gets at, that’s how human relationships start out.

I’m writing this, not because I’m presently mad, but because I’m relating to words in a rap song by, a somebody: Eminem. I’m nobody, minding his own business. They blame Eminem for being mean or aggressive with lyrics. But in my “situation” and adult years, I see a guy talking about dealings with human nature, while trying to fix things with his wife, and do everything he can for his daughter. Ive said before, anger can be a source of fuel for ur goals or to get a point across. I mean, under this retarded “make him a role model type hero cr*p, for the no culture or no British style class that is America”, the orchestrators like to press my buttons. The extent they go with pushing buttons is -I’m not just saying this- a type of evil that the mind just can’t digest or grasp.  That’s a bit of info my brain cannot process, grasp, or comprehend. There’s something worse than the teenage type sounds projected or whatever it is that others hear- I keep saying that.

But it’s like Gospel, they have eyes, but don’t see, ears: and don’t hear…

the orchestrators you know about, are so arrogant with thinking they control every aspect of my life, they need to consider where they’re not. They push me, and like Eminem’s rap, “push me/tempt me, then I’m lifting you ten feet in the air…”

I went for the path of computer science and engineering instead of being a doctor like my brother. I would joke to people ages ago, “I don’t have the ‘patience’ to deal with ‘patients.’ ” People are so complicated…language difficulties, talking to non native English speakers, cultural differences,filters they have in their heads/biases, stereotypes they believe in- I mean what a headache. The orchestrators have people believing I’m friendless loser, while they actively keep people away from me. But in the words of Eminem, whatever f*ers, “I am whatever you say I am…”

---

In “Gangstas paradise” by Coolio, there’s one part of the song that goes “you don’t know what’s going on in the kitchen…” it’s incredible what speaks to you in ur adult years…cuz clearly I’m thug…I mean even with all the mind cr*p and technology, not because of ego or arrogance or pride, you and the orchestrators don’t know what’s truly going on in my head, in my house, wherever.

Like rap, I am the meaning behind the lyrics.

---

From The original Hulk/1st ever version of the Hulk movie soundtrack, great themes or scores. Also a great song called “set me free”

“Hey Mama” - one of my favorite songs from Nicki Minaj to blast out while driving…

Great Running music - “Confident” - I think by Demi Lovato … another song of hers that I like “Really Don’t Care”: like that part of the song with the words and background music to “even if the stars and moon collide…”

I miss Beyoncé in Destiny’s Child with songs like “Survivor” … I feel it gets the same point across as DMX’s “X is Coming” without some of the questionable ideas in his lyrics…

---

Haiku Asian Bistro in Bronxville lets you eat a quality variety of East Asian food in a New York City feel…about the NYC feel, I dunno, sitting by the window, watching the traffic of people walk by, along with cars, through those windows, in that bar type low light setting: make you feel or made me feel like I’m in a restaurant in the city…going on a 2 month diet as I’m hideously obese, so while I miss and crave sesame chicken with fried rice, I hope you enjoy quality food as such…

Speaking of which…my family and me got used to sesame chicken over general Tsos chicken, when craving Chinese…I feel everyone in America, including my New York and Texas based cousins, always order General Tso Chicken over Sesame Chicken…I mean why?! Who started that trend?! Though essentially the same, I prefer and am an advocate of Sesame Chicken.

---

Though I’m obsessed with leaving the AC on all day/everyday because of the cool energizing air and the sound of the breeze type air blow, I recently found that my TaoTronics standing tower fan isn’t a bad alternative. I think I have the TaoTronics desk lamp too. I believe I have their standing tower heater but just didn’t have the motivation or energy to try it out…probably as awesome as the desk light and fan…I’m thinking, from my own experience, TaoTronics, and a lot of Asian made products are good stuff or sourced in great ideas. With some of the products I’ve run into recently, what I’m realizing is this:

China now has some great ideas and products, but sometimes you have to return or exchange those awesome ideas because some things were manufactured differently or as defective. Maybe they don’t have the money for better manufacturing plants…I think people should invest there. I mean they have some great ideas and technology for compression massagers for just about everywhere in your body.

Now proud Americans may not like this, as well as what I’ll say next: with the products I’ve encountered recently, America gives off the feel or notion that everything is manufactured identically and the places where things are manufactured are quality factories…but here’s the part probably not liked: from my searches on Amazon, it would seem America lacks the ideas , or innovation, or imagination, that the Chinese are indicating in their products and technology-I mean check out the head massager helmet from Breo. Helps with falling asleep. It’s from a Chinese manufacturer and looks futuristic and the concept works. My only complaint about it was, I had to go through 4 returns, before getting a helmet that was free of manufacturing defects (i.e. some you couldn’t see thru the helmet, some had a part moving inside when moving the helmet up and down, some overheated on one side of the heated helmet while the opposite side was left cold, etc.). It’s like Doc Browns attitude in Back to the Future. With respect to something not looking like it works, 1950s Doc Brown says “no wonder…it’s made in Japan.” Marty McFly responds, “watiya talking about Doc?!…all the best things are made in Japan.” People may feel like Doc Brown about Chinese products right now, but the hard work and imagination of the Chinese will find themselves in Marty’s way of seeing things. I mean these people, be it Chinese, Korean, all East Asian born Asians, tackle every nook and crannie in their hard work. They need opportunities. Not so sure about the ABC’s or the American born East Asians, but those born in Asia and immigrating here, at least people Ive bumped into (as I’m not gonna generalize), they really give their jobs 110%. (To my fellow ABC’s, by Indian standards, I’m an A-B-C-“D” or American Born Confused Desi, so nothing malicious intended, its just in admiration over our immigrant counterparts. They are the living definitions of the “immigrant work ethic.”). I recently went for a men’s pedicure after seeing Will Smith talk about it on an episode of the fresh prince of bel air. The woman who attended to me was Chinese and I just couldn’t help but notice how much detail and energy she puts into the task. I also once had a Chinese masseuse. I was sore all over and wanted to try the “firm” massage. Ive never experienced so much effort, force, and energy. It makes you want to friend people like that. Pride aside, I think a lot can be learned from their discipline, hard work, imagination, and ideas. 

But a thought…

---

So, in my search for non coffee based sources of energy that last long and don’t make you crash, I found things like “Kion Coffee,” Trader Joe’s “Well Rested Tea” (as it turns out Trader Joe’s sells its own interesting varieties of teas), the $4.99 or $3.99 “Rebbl”brand Plant  Based Energy and/or Protein Drinks, and the $2.99 version of Smart Water Renew. Smart Water Renew is composed of dandelions (yeah, freakin’ dandelions give energy!!!) and lemon flavor. But it is ridiculously expensive for one bottle and isn’t available at Shop Rite. I found it at Wegmans in - I think- Harrison, NY, through the InstaCart app. As dandelions seem to be the key, I typed dandelion in the Amazon app, and realize there is a dandelion tea…I hope it gives the same focus as the Smart Water Renew…I mean the tea you can buy in bulk…why are the healthy coffee alternatives expensive?!-I’m assuming it’s because people don’t know about these things and not enough people buy them…

---

Perhaps u’ve heard, “Why worry about tomorrow, when each day has its own concerns.” It’s said, look how God clothes the flowers of the field-that not even King Solomon, in all his splendor, was dressed so beautifully. Are we not more than flowers?!, as is asked. My grandmother would say, when career concerns were expressed, that if God made a person with a mouth, He will also give every mouth created, food to eat-to elaborate: everyone is provided for. I mean “Seek and you will find.” Put in some effort, however so, at least through a prayer or a hopeful/positive thought. I believe everyone, in life, gets what they need, for all that their respective lives throw at them.

Some people may have more things in appearance, but you may have less because you’re that much innately stronger and don’t require as much. While I’m no one, as a small example, since I was in Kindergarten, I could never sit comfortably with my legs folded. The position in yoga is called sukhasana. As a need grew, when I was older, to sit in that position for yoga and meditation, I feel life led me to find the “Alexia Meditation seat” and the means to buy that expensive seat, enabling me to sit long hours with my legs folded. I feel, if we have some faith and do our part, God or The Universe, will provide for us and take care of our needs/desires through direct means, or indirectly, by giving us the needed mental faculties and abilities to achieve our desires.

---

[fearofaherobrine]

Roleplay Server Log #278

“Sammn Goes Out, Cp Surges, Mb Aggravation”

-Le little bit of time passes-

[Sammn] - (dreaming) Is running, out of breath and terrified of something chasing her. A deep and disturbing echo of laughter urges her forward, blindly through the darkness. In front of her, a dark shape looms out, blocking her path and making her trip, trying to stop -

[VOICE] vos potest non currere a me – The shape starts moving toward her, the ground shaking with each step –

[Sammn] – scrambles back away –

[VOICE] citius dare, citius nos occidere potest, his nos oportet – The shape leans down toward her, reaching out –

[Sammn] – cowers, screaming –

[??] WAKE UP – NOW!!!

[Sammn] – wakes up screaming, only to find herself standing outside, once again -

[Doc] Was taking a break outside and runs to her with a roar, thinking she's in trouble - Sammn?

[Sammn] - falls down, gasping for breath -

[Doc] Regards her sadly- bad dreams again?

[Sammn] - nods, not quite able to speak yet -

[Doc] Loafs near her so she can lean on the dragon if she wants- just take it easy... You're safe

[Sammn] - Leans against hir - I ... am so...sick of this

[Doc] Puts the fluff of hir tail on on Sammn like a blanket- I'm sorry. I wish I could help you. I'm no good with dreams though. That's more Cps thing.

[Sammn] - shakes head - I have a horrible feeling these aren't just dreams. I keep hearing the same voices.

[Doc] Bad memories then perhaps? Your mind might have conciously blocked them out to protect your sanity.

[Sammn] Possibly, but... it feels .... worse than memories.

[Doc] I'm sorry Sammn, do you want to go over to Lies and grab a calming blossom? It might help you relax at least.

[Sammn] - shrugs - I have nothing else planned...can't hurt.

[Doc] just climb up, ill carry you

[Sammn] - climbs on -

[Doc] Trots gently over to Lies house and hunts around for her- Lie?

[Lie] Is replacing glass in the green house- Over here Doc!

[Doc] Can we trouble you for a calming blossom Lie?

[Lie] Forms one in her hands- It's no trouble at all, what's going on?

[Sammn] - reaches down to grab it - Thanks Lie.

[Doc] More nightmares, or flashbacks maybe? She was sleepwalking.

[Lie] - Do you want a dream flower then?  It might help you get a peaceful nights sleep...

[Sammn] - sighs - I don't know. I don't think there's are just dreams, but also not memories either.

[Doc] I mean it wouldn't hurt. If you don't need it, it's still a pretty flower. You can just stick it in your hair or something.

[Lie] Begins concentrating, working on making another dream flower-

[Sammn] If I could just get a decent night's sleep... It's getting hard to think some days. Even if I nap, I wake up elsewhere.

[Doc] Do you need to be locked up? Like just shut in someplace with a bed until you wake up?

[Sammn] - shrugs - I tried using a lead to tie my leg, but it failed. I woke up in a tree. Maybe if I'm locked somewhere... - yawns -

[Doc] I can help you if you need me.

 [Lie] Finishes the flower- Here, at least try this as well

[Sammn] - reaches for the flower - Pretty.

[Doc] Lovely as always. -sniffs the flower delicately-

-The mist like edges of the flower swirl around a little-

[Sammn] - stares at the flower, entranced -

[Doc] A little birdie told me Cp was in trouble. Well, kind of a big birdie actually.

[Lie] - Yes, he is

[Doc] Still?

[Lie] - He's not allowed in the house right now

[Doc] Ah.

[Doc] You okay Sammn? It really does make a nifty little mist, doesn't it?

[Sammn] - is still staring at the flower, not listening -

[Doc] Loafs, just letting her take her time.

[Lie] Gently touches Sammn's arm- You okay?

[Sammn] - jerks away, startled - Ah... What?

[Lie] - Are you okay?

[Sammn] - shakes herself, trying to chase away the fog that was filling her brain - I..am just tired.

[Lie] - I have a spare bed inside if you want to take a quick nap...

[Doc] You know... You could just sack out on me and I'll grab you if you start wandering.

[Sammn] I guess. I mean, I don't want to be a bother. You must have things planned, watching me sleep can't be one of them.

[Lie] - My schedules open

[Doc] Curls hirself into a rough circle. - I'm sure I can entertain myself if need be.

[Sammn] - looks between the two of them, then down to the flower - Alright. Maybe it will work.

[Lie] - Do you want some tea to help you relax?

[Doc] Gets comfy and offers Lie a paw to sit on.

[Lie] - Let me go get a book first

[Sammn] - shakes head and tries to find a comfy postion. As soon as her eyes close, she's out, relaxing -

[Doc] Puts hir tail fluff over Sammn like a lap blanket and pulls out hir computer. By the time Lie gets back xe's staring at it utterly fascinated and theres a comforting narration with a British accent coming from the box.

[Lie] Settles down on Doc's paw to read-  So what are you listening to Doc?

[Sammn] (dreaming) - is in darkness, surrounded by faint whispering. She strains, but can't make out what they are saying. Dread fills her as the voices seem to press in on her, circling like a wolf staking it's prey.

[Doc] Look at this Lie. It's so cool - On the screen is a small feathered dinosaur and someone talking about it.

[Lie] - Oh, I think I remember those

[Doc] Chuckles- You're not that old? Are you Lie?

[Lie] Gives Doc a little swat- No, but there were programs like this on tv pretty often

[Doc] The graphics they're using are pretty nice.

-The narrator switches to talking about larger dinosaurs and there's a bit about Spinosaurus-

[Doc] Hey! I know that one!

[Sammn] - twitches in her sleep, whimpering -

[Lie] - Yeah that's the one we tested my offensive pod on

[Doc] Feels her twitch and cranes hir neck around to check on her- A sucessful test. Quite funny too. Your face was so red!

[Lie] - That poor triceratops...

[Sammn] (dreaming) - The whispering grows in volume and now she can make out parts of words. She struggles to move, the dread turning into fear. -

[Doc] I wonder if it was a male or a female? At least it couldn't get pregnant.... Sammn?

[Lie] - No idea

[Sammn] (dreaming) "Run, rescape, flee!" The whispering is loud now, almost thunderous. Crawling, she screams back at the voices.

[Doc] Here, hop up Lie!

[Lie] Quickly jumps off the paw-

[Doc] Rolls sideways and holds Sammn in hir paws- It's okay... you're safe....

[Sammn] - kicks out, eyes snapping open. Her eyes are solid purple and glowing. She opens her mouth and a voice, not her own speaks - Debet evaders!

[Doc] Clutches her tightly, afraid she'll hurt herself. - Sammn!

[Lie] Spawns more calming flowers-

[Sammn] Ianuae magicae! - she disappears in a puff of purple sparkles.

[Lie] - Sammn!?

[Doc] Did she do an ender teleport?! Maybe that's why she's ending up in random places!

[Sammn] - a chunk away, she reappears up in the branches of a tree, falling limply. As soon as she lands, she 's awake and screaming.

[Doc] Snatches up Lie and the command block and runs towards the distant sound-

[Lie] Yelps in surprise-

[Sammn] - is in shock and curls up, crying -

[Doc] Runs to her- Sammn!

[Lie] Spawns even more calming flowers, not sure what else she can do-

[Doc] Tries to comfort her - At least now we know why she keeps waking in random places....

[Lie] - Yeah...

[Sammn] - slowly stops crying, but is shaking - What... happened?

[Doc] You teleported in your sleep-

[Lie] - It was a bit surprising

[Sammn] - stares - Teleported? They said to run... but...

[Doc] Do you want me to turn your tp ability off? I'm an admin, I can probably  block it that way.

[Sammn] - thinks for a second - Yes. I don't know how I'm doing this. This... Can't be good.

[Lie] - Do you have...  Any?  Idea as to what's causing this?

[Doc] Okay - xe starts typing in the chat and blocks Sammn's tp privledges specifically-

[Sammn] No... I don't have any memories of being able to do anything like this. - shivers and whispers - They said run.

[Lie] - Who said run Sammn?

[Sammn] - Shakes head - No clue, I heard voices. A lot of them, telling me to run, escape, flee.

[Lie] - Can I look?  I may be able to see something mentally...

[Sammn] - nods -

[Lie] - Just think about what you heard and saw- She begins concentrating and also projects it to Doc

[Doc] Is just listening intently-

[Sammn] - thinks about the dream. Darkness, sense of dread, and voices. 100's of them, taking over each other but all saying run.

[Lie] Although there are no visuals, they do hear all of the voices and Lie shudders a little-

[Doc] Well that's terrifying...

[Sammn] - hugs herself - These are different than the other ones.

[Doc] Different how?

[Lie] - So what exactly can we do to help?  I mean, maybe a hypnotist could do something...

[Sammn] One, is kind. It tells me to wake up, that is not real. The other... It... wants me to give in. I really don't know. - taps her temple - It's locked up in here.

[Doc] telling someone to wake up sounds very... Herobrine...

[Lie] Thinks of her husband- Yes...  It does...

[Sammn] Again, I don't know. I just know I trust that one. I get no... fear from it. Anger, yes, but nothing directed toward me.

[Doc] Do you think your brine is still, protecting you somehow?

[Sammn] Possible. If he was able to contact you,  he can reach out from where ever he is.

[Doc] I want to help him too, if it's even possible to find him.

[Lie] Places a reassuring hand on Doc-

[Doc] respectful and thoughtful silence, but a small smile at Lie.

[Sammn] - sighs - He had to have had a reason for asking you to get me. I just wish I had a clue why. I feel like this is... my fault.

[Sammn] There has to be some way to make me remember.

[Doc] Well nobody deserves to never get a good nights sleep no matter the circumstances.

[Lie] - So what do we do?

[Sammn] - yawns, suddenly exhausted as her adrenaline wears off - Maybe if I could sleep with no dreaming. For all I know, these dreams have been keeping me awake for awhile. If I could rest, maybe my head might be clearer.

[Doc] Apart from Cp, the only thing I can think of thats a guaranteed knockout is going irl for the first time. That's like a week of sleep, at least.

[Lie] - I'd rather not ask anything of my husband right now

[Sammn] At this point, I'm willing to try anything. I can't keep going like this.

[Doc] You said you wanted to go out there anyway? Didn't you? I mean it's painful and it sucks for a while, but it gives you more places to go.

[Sammn] - nods groggily -

[Doc] Taps out a quick note to Deerheart. - Lie? Do you need anything? I mean. If you want to keep me company.

[Lie] - Sure, I don't mind stepping out for awhile

[Doc] The tv is still set up in the one we used last time... I can always pop back here for any supplies we need. Or pull them out of the creative.

[Lie] - Then I think we're ready

[Doc] Got it- Xe rears hir head back and bangs it forward, smashing a decent-sized hole in reality. The darkened space is visible beyond and there's a bit of a musty smell laced with the flowers Lie left behind.

[Lie] - Come on Sammn, we'll be right here with you

[Doc] Shrinks down and walks into the hole, waiting to catch her on the other side-

[Sammn] - stumbles forward -

[Doc] reaches out to catch her-

[Sammn] - gives a surprised yelp as pain flares, basically everywhere, the worst centered in her skull. One half stumble step and she pitches forward -

This message has been removed.

[Lie] Goes and pulls the blankets off one of the beds, flapping it to get the dust off-

[Doc] Grabs her so she doesn't fall and helps her to the bed - Easy Sammn

[Sammn] - mumbles incoherently, unable to think past the pain in her head -

[Lie] Runs the blanket through her inventory real quick before putting it over Sammn- Just sleep Sammn, you'll be okay

[Sammn] - mumbles once more and passes out -

[Doc] Tucks her gently in-

[Lie] Sits on the other bed- Well good thing I still have my book

[CP] Perks as he see's Lie leaving the server, his emotions rolling out in waves-

-A small endermite scuttles up the trunk of the tree and buzzes at Cp from under a leaf block-

[CP] Punches downwards-

-There's a panicked POOF and TLOT appears next to him-

[TLOT] That was uncalled for...

[CP] - Where did they go?

[TLOT] They took Sammn irl...

[CP] Makes a whining noise-

[TLOT] I don't think it was specifically to punish you or anything.

[CP] - I'm not even allowed in the house right now!

[TLOT] Somehow I think that's on hold. I mean, you need to feed Hope at least.

[CP] - The kid is in there

[TLOT] Oh? He's not with Firebird? Well he probably wanted some space. He never did learn to fly. Shame really.

[CP] - I'm sorry, what?

[TLOT] Oh, Firebird caught him plucking his poor parrot. So I arranged for a suitible punishment.

[CP] - And nobody told me?

[TLOT] Well Firebird hustled him off to teach him how to bird. I didn't see him again until he came to me begging to be made human again.

[CP] Grumbles under his breath-

[TLOT] What? Did you want to chase the little birdie? Firebird was apparently throwing him out of trees trying to teach him to fly.

[CP] - That would have been entertaining to watch

[TLOT] I was just disappointed that he didn't get anything positive out of it. Well... he won't try to pluck anything living again at least. And he probably won't deliberatly piss me off either.

[CP] Is getting fidgety-

[TLOT] Watches him cautiously - I know you miss your mate Cp... but that's no reason to... wait. Where's your Honedge?

[CP] - Fuck if I know

[TLOT] That's not good. Can you... call it or something?

[CP] - No idea

[TLOT] Maybe we should go talk to Deerheart... I'm pretty sure Pokemon can call for one another. Maybe we can get her Shaymin or Mudsdale to summon your sword.

[CP] - I'm fine

[TLOT] I think that's not the case... - in chat- Deerheart? Can you please bring one of your Pokemon to Lie's house?

[Deer] - I don't think I can move right now

[TLOT] Why? Do you need help!?

[Deer] - No, I should be fine by tonight

[TLOT] Should we come to you?

[Deer] - Er, no, I'm good

[TLOT] I think I'll start heading your way all the same. This may become urgent quite quickly. - turns to Cp- Are you going to walk with me? Or do I have to force you?

[CP] Floats off a distance-

[TLOT] Got it. Hard way it is. - He steps back and swells into an ender dragon shape and darts towards Cp-

[CP] Darts away as quickly as he can-

[TLOT] Gives a mighty flap of his wings and tries to snag Cp's shirt in his jaws.

[CP] Is caught- Fuck!

[TLOT] Flaps some more, closing the distance between them and the castle easily-

[CP] - Let me go!

[TLOT] Muffled- No. I recognize that twitch. You need your sword.

[CP] Growls- I do not!

[TLOT] Lands on the porch and shoves Cp into the side door of the shrine before following him in- will you please just trust me? I'm psychic, I can see you're on edge.

[CP] - I will stab you in the face

[TLOT] Yes, yes. Very intimidating. - Is shoving Cp along-

[CP] Digs his heels into the ground-

[TLOT] Just keeps shoving. - Can you actually walk down the stairs? Or do I have to tp you for safety reasons?

[CP] - Just fuck off!

[TLOT] Is musing aloud. - I wonder if the Gastly eats energy? I know the Galvantula just likes electricity....

[CP] Tries to tp back to his tree-

-The tp fails because Doc missed a line and turned it off for everyone-

[CP] - THE FUCK!?

[TLOT] Stops - What now?

[CP] - I can't teleport!

[TLOT] Matter o-fact-ly - Then that's another reason to talk to Deerheart. With Lie and Doc out she's the only other admin. I hate resorting to this with you, but you're really annoying me right now.  - He leans backwards as if to do a flip and changes into a very large spider with glowing eyes. Deftly he grabs Cp and scuttles down the stairs with him, through the chrous hallway, the magma room and the kitchen, heading for the lab. Mentally he calls out for Deerheart- I'm sorry but this is kinda urgent... Cp might be close to another energy surge, he's lost his Honedge. Also he can't tp right now. - He plunks Cp down on the edge of the lava pool with his feet in it and tries to tp himself to Cp from a few feet away- Oh fuck... I can't tp either! Something is definetly wrong!

[CP] - Sucks to be you, now I'm leaving

[TLOT] You are not going anywhere until we find your sword! - he piles a bit of weight around Cps feet to hold them down in the lava and types out - Deerheart I really really need you right now.

[CP] Scowls and the lava around his feet starts getting hotter-

[TLOT] Stop that. Unless you want to be chest deep instead of just your feet in it - annoyed, he tries calling out for Lost Silver instead

[Silver] In chat- Yes?

[TLOT] Silver can you please come over by the slime cage and bring one of your Pokemon?

[Silver] - Oh, um sure- In a few moments he's there with Sylveon

[TLOT] Thank goodness! Just the man I need! Cp has lost his Honedge and he's building up energy fast. Is there a way for trainers or other Pokemon to call for a specific one?

[Silver] - Well yes, but sometimes a pokemon just wants to be alone for a bit

[TLOT] Yeeessss but Cp losing his shit could be really bad with Lie not here too. Do any of yours eat life energy?

[Silver] Shakes his head- Sorry, they don't.  You need a ghost type

[TLOT] What about the mama gastly? Can we lure her?

[Silver] - She might be able to take a little, but that one won't really take much energy until it's a Gengar

[CP] Is just waiting for TLOT's concentration to waver so he can move-

[TLOT] Dammit... I really doubt Doc wants her to evolve either.... She's kind of a pest.. What about the Banette? It's still in Lies house somewhere, right? Isn't it a ghost type?

[Silver] - Yeah, but it feeds off of negative emotions, Honedge feeds off of life energy

[TLOT] Gives Cp a slow look obviously thinking that Cps life energy IS mostly negative.

[CP] Is wondering if he can get the ground beneath the lava hot enough to melt and just slip through TLOT's nether energy-

[TLOT] Makes a really defeated face and calls out over the chat again, there's a bit of pregnant silence and then some tromping on the stairs-

[Mb] Comes down with Celine- what do you fuckers want?

[Celine] Hi!

[CP] Narrows his eyes at MB-

[TLOT] To offer you your favorite thing.

[Mb] Suspicious look-

[TLOT] Cp has too much energy and it's building up to a level where he could be a danger to anyone who comes near him.

[Mb] And I care why?

[CP] - I'm fine!  It hasn't happened yet!

[TLOT] I want you to take him somewhere and spar with him. I'll watch Celine.

[Mb] Actual genuine smile- gladly.

[Celine] lots of small peeping noises

[CP] - TLOT you are over reacting!

[TLOT] Cuts him loose from the weight- am I? I'm trying to help you. Go get some exercise.

[CP] - Fuck you!-  He tromps out of the lava

[Mb] givesTLOT a hard look. - take care of her, or else. [TLOT] You don't have to threaten me. Come on Celine, I'll read you a story. And Silver, thank you for the advice. [Celine] BOOK! BOOK!

[CP] Is growling-

[Mb] is just watching Cp, thinking he might bolt

[CP] Sits down, refusing to move-

[Mb] Aww, you're just gonna pout when we got the go ahead for some bloodshed at last?

[CP] - Only to prove TLOT wrong

[Mb] chuckles darkly- Petty motherfucker

[CP] - Besides, wouldn't you like to see the "love god"  proven wrong?

[Mb] Ha! I don't have a personal beef with him like you apparently do.

[CP] - Besides, if given the choice I'd rather fuck my wife

[Mb] Oh yeah... - his voice is oily- saw her go out... With Doc...

[CP] Grits his teeth a liitle-

[Mb] Also, it's more fun to grief you then TLOT, you actually have combat experience. He just tries to subdue everyone. It's lame.

[CP] - No shit!  The first time he just sat on me as a full grown dragon!

[Mb] Laughs- you seem to have a long history of being annoyed by dragons!

[CP] - You know, if you ever really want to fight TLOT, all you have to do is hurt Steve

[Mb] Why, what happens when you do that? He just has some kinda fit?

[CP] - He'll probably try to murder you

[Mb] Meh. Another pissed off Herobrine is nothing unique. I presume that fucking weight trick just has a crushing mode or something?

[CP] - Don't know, all he's ever done to me with it is immobilize.  But if you piss him off, he'll turn into a giant monster

[Mb] Floats up a bit and does a little roll in the air - Now that sounds unique! Do tell all the gory details!

[CP] - Where's the fun in that?  Wouldn't you prefer to find out yourself?

[Mb] Ha! You just want to see me get my ass kicked! Fine, be mysterious as you want fuckhead. I'll do it when you're not around.

[CP] - Oh I'll hear about it later because I'll probably get blamed for it.  You know Steve can be vicious for the absolute most ridiculous of reasons

[Mb] Now you're fucking with me! The 'lamb'? He's just a Steve. They all throw decent punches, but that's about it.

[CP] - Mess with his hair

[Mb] ...seriously? Why the fuck....? -Incredulous- Is it because TLOT brushes it perfect or something?!

[CP] - No idea, but go try it out

[Mb] Smarms- Not right now. - He floats close enough to give Cp an irritating poke in the head-

[CP] - Fuck off

[Mb] Come on... The kids are at the sitter, let's fucking rumble.

[CP] - Don't feel like it

[Mb] Keeps poking him-

[CP] - Stop it

[Mb] Nope

[CP] Stands up and just starts walking away-

[Mb] Pulls out a sword and makes a shallow jab at one of Cp's butt cheeks-

[CP] Turns with a snarl-

[Mb] Gives him an answering growl and a wicked smile-

[CP] He can feel his energy building and knows his two choices are always fight or fuck, and due to the massive lack of fucking in his lafe lately, that is the way he is leaning-

[Mb] Swishes his sword a little, just waiting.

[CP] - Don't wanna fight right now

[Mb] Suuure.

[CP] His breathing is becoming a bit harder as he starts walking off-

[Mb] Stalks him at a short distance.

[CP] Is heading for the outside-

[Silver] Is worried and backs away, retreating to his room with Sylveon-

[Mb] shrugs and follows-

[CP] Makes it outside and takes to flight-

[Mb] Spawns his two clones and flies after him at an unhurried pace.

[CP] Goes back to his pouting tree-

[Mb] Waits at the bottom for a few moments and then knocks a block of wood out of the trunk-

[CP] - Stop that

[Mb] Knocks out a few leaf blocks too.

[CP] - Fuck off

[Mb] Sends off one clone and theres some annoyed squawking as he dumps a pail of water in the chicken pen and gets them all wet and bunched up against one corner from the shallow current-

[CP] - Stop messing with my wife's animals!- His breathing is picking up even more now

[Mb] Why? They're all clean now. -Smirks-

[CP] - Just go away!

[Mb] No!

[CN] Comes outside- Where's Lie?

[CP] - Fuck off kid!

[Mb] She went someplace with Doc, pipsqueak.

[CN] - Without me?

[Mb] Sends one clone closer to talk to him, just floating over him - She went outside kid. Where you can't follow.

[CN] Starts tearing up- But...  But...

[Mbclone] What the fuck is your problem?

[CN] - I...  I wanted to tell her about the new thing I did that helped!

[Mbclone] Oh I gotta hear this. -Hovers over him- What did you do little NOTCH?

[Mbclone] Stops teasing the chickens and comes over too-

[CN] - I...  I talked to a...  To a programmer, and I was able to help her by giving her numbers...  And, and I talked on a phone!

[Mb] Comes over himself so Cn is basically surrounded. - What the fuck... You talked to a programmer? -eyes narrow- What kind of numbers?

[CN] A bit nervously- NOTCH numbers, they are programming new NOTCH's and trying to keep them relatively peaceful...

[CP] Is listening from the top of the tree-

[Mb] Looks unsettled- Why the fuck do they need new NOTCHs?

[CN] - So...  So when one dies they can be replaced...

[Mb] Makes a snarling noise, his sword is still out.

[CP] Darts down- Back off from the kid MB

[CN] Looks up at CP a bit surprised-

[Mb] Gives Cp a suprised look- Since when do you care? I thought you hated this little NOTCH?

[CP] - I do, but Lie cares about him and I don't think you want to get bit by one of her pods

[Mb] Yeah, but she aint here. -Uses his two clones to menace Cn a bit-

[CP] Punches the two clones in the face-

-Both clones pop and despawn-

[Mb] Smug-  Though you didn't want to fight?

[CP] - I don't

[CN] Moves a bit closer to CP-

[Mb] But you'll defend this teeny little NOTCH?

[CP] - Yes, because I prefer my mate be happy

[Mb] Feints towards Cn-

[CP] Blocks with his sword- CN, go to Notch's place, now

[Mb] Ugly laugh - Maybe I want him to stay here-

[CP] - Go

[CN] Darts off-

[Mb] Squares off with Cp and makes some small jabs towards his legs

[CP] - How about this, as soon as I lose control, you'll be the first to know

[Mb] Oh I'll know, because I'm staying right the fuck here.

[CP] - No, you're not

[Mb] You're gonna make me go away? That's never worked for anyone.

[CP] - Then I'll go somewhere you can't

[Mb] And that would be?

[CP] Creates an opening- The real world

[Mb] Hisses and backs down sullenly- That's cheating.

[CP] - Actually, it sounds like a wonderful idea

[Mb] mutters- asshole.

[CP] Starts going through, he's created an opening to the manor where he knows he's less likely to be followed to-

[Mb] Flips him off and leaves.

[CP] Enters his room and flops onto the bed, getting ready to ride this out-

[sin-n-city]

Ignited: Transpire

Ignited Chapter 3- Transpire

Pairing: Dan Howell/ Phil Lester and PJ Liguori/ Chris Kendall

Rating: M

Warnings: Swearing and eventual fluff/smutt

Word Count: 3,062

Summary: AU superpowers. The lights has been there for as long as Dan can remember. It’s apart of him and he can’t help but love the light. But sometimes the burning and itching under his skin won’t leave until it shines bright and illuminates the sky.

Dan’s life changes forever when he is trust into a world of magic and mystery inside the walls of the Nova Institute for the Exceptionally Gifted and Talented. Dan Howell/Phil Lester, PJ Liguori/ Chris Kendall.

Notes: I hope your all enjoying this as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it! 

Link to Chapter 2 Link to Chapter 1

Any possible sentence formation instantly disappears. It takes all of Dan’s willpower to stop his jaw actually opening in shock. He glances from Phil, to the right hand side where Chris has already been let in. He looks back at Phil, nerves filling him because this can not be happening.

Phil smile turns from something enthusiastic to something a little more mellow, assumably because he’s guessing Dan is nervous. Which he definitely is. As well of a whole lot of other emotions swirling around in his head.

“Want to come in?”

Phil moves to the side and Dan takes a few more moments before he follow the que, walking slightly past his roommate.

He’s momentarily distracted. The room is how he expected it, yet not quite. It’s relatively large, more so then he would expect a dorm at a regular school to be. He’s walked into a lounge, an L shaped dark gray couch occupying the space on the right hand side. Directly across from it is a TV, and further down is a small kitchenette, which to Dan’s knowledge appears to have a sink, a microwave, and a mini bar fridge. There’s two doors, one on the opposite wall of the entrance hall and next to a bookshelf, and another on the right hand side a bit past the couch.

He prays to whatever god will hear him that it’s two separate bedrooms. He’ll take a communal bathroom.  

“Better than expected?”

Dan glances back at Phil and offers him a small nod. Dread washes over him, because what if this guy’s ability is mind reading? He’s totally fucked.

“Maybe you’d like a tour?” Phil questions again and Dan just shrugs in response. However, his roommate continues as though Dan is not blatantly attempting to ignore him.

Phil takes it in his stride, accepting that as a yes and continuing on. “So obviously this is the lounge room, equipped with netflix. It’s actually my account but I’m happy to share it. Theres the kitchen, we don’t really have cooking facilities because all meals are provided by the cafeteria, but we are encouraged to bring drinks and extra food up for whenever we feel like it. It’s open access except for curfew hours. A lot of nova’s need additional food to compensate for the energy output, so there's always something around.”

The word nova’s being used so casually sort of freaks Dan out. It’s like he’s finally labeled, like he’s actually apart of something. He isn’t the only one. It’s oddly comforting, but at the same, time impossibly scary.

Phil walks towards one of the doors, the one to the right. He looks over his shoulder as though he is inviting Dan to follow. He does, and as Phil opens the door he realises his previous worries were correct.

It’s a bathroom, fully equipped with a decent sized shower and toilet. There are dark blue towels hanging on the towel rack, and an array of scented shower gels inside the shower mantel piece. Phil gives Dan a moment to take it all in before he is walking towards the next door.

Dan doesn’t have to guess. He know’s that him and Phil will be sharing a room together. Dan takes a step inside. The room, although decently sized, is still shared, with one bed pressed  horizontally against the corners of the right and front walls. The other one is on the far left, vertically facing towards the door. There are two sets of desks in the room, a large window that they face out to. The have matching bedside tables, and two wardrobes.

Fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, he tries to soak it all in. It isn’t even the fact that for some ungodly reason he got placed with Phil, but for the fact he will also have to share a room, when he has very little control over his abilities.

“I sort of had my stuff everywhere but I've moved it all to one side. If you find some sort of adapter or something that isn't yours by your desk or what not just move it. I’m pretty sure I got everything but I was in a bit of a rush when they told me we would be sharing. So there's a chance I've probably left a few things, actually.”

Phil laughs at the end, smiling widely and friendly. It should be comforting. And maybe it sort of is. But for the most part, it does not extinguish the nerves fluttering in Dan's stomach.

For the upmost time in the past few days, he feels his ability prinkle under his skin, reacting to his emotions as he tries to desperately to keep himself in check. He takes a few calm breaths, willing himself not to lose it just yet.

Phil’s bright blue eyes soften and he looks sympathetic.

“So, I guess this is all kind of overwhelming, and I know you don’t know me or, like- basically, this school is going to help. So don’t worry. There is nothing you could do here that hasn’t been done before.”

It does put Dan’s mind to ease a little, but he still doesn’t look at Phil. Instead, he looks over to his bed. He assumes the one with the green duvet cover is Phil’s and his is the pale gray one in the corner bed.

“I’ll let you get settled.” Phil comments, “All your stuff has already been brought up, just in the closet.”

He gives one final smile before he turns away, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Dan take a few steps, collapsing onto the bed.

Instead of unpacking, he just falls asleep.

--

He naps for probably a bit too long. It’s several hours after his fallen asleep. His things are still unpacked, and he should probably clean them, or at least hang his clothes up. Dan doesn’t though. He rubs the remaining sleep from his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

He trudges out of the room, opening the door slowly.

Phil’s nowhere in sight.

It puts his mind to rest a bit. He tells himself that it shouldn’t, that this is a school designed to handle people like him. But at the same time, they don’t know what he’s capable of. Phil surely doesn't either. They might be the same age, but he’s willing to bet that Phil doesn’t randomly explode when his emotions are too high, or that there is a constant ache under his skin.

He pushes those thoughts to the side.

It’s half past seven, on the later side and he’s practically starving. He doesn’t know what time dinner is - he should probably get around to reading that manual - but Phil mentioned that the kitchens were always open before curfew, so he’s going to take his word for it and head over there to find something to eat.

It’s only a few more moments before he is out in the unfamiliar halls, trekking back through what he thinks is the correct way towards the dining wing.

It feels less weird as he enters the courtyard. There are others here now. Not too many, but enough, socialising. There's a girl blowing bubbles, literally flying out of her mouth and up into the air in different shapes. The two other girls around her laugh. The blonde one points her finger at them, a small bolt of electricity shooting out of it and hitting it dead in the center.

Dan almost stops in his tracks. He has to remind himself that this is normal.

That he can do that too.

Just like those girls, he’s a Nova.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

--

It’s long gone dark when Dan finally returns to his room. He unlocks the door, taking a few steps in before closing it behind him.

“Welcome back.”

Dan jumps a little at the voice, because even if he was expecting someone, it would have been Phil.

“Chris?” Dan asks. He walks a few more steps to find Chris lounging about on the couch, TV moved to his side, and a packet of half empty chips on his lap.

Chris just grins at him before shoving a few more chips into his mouth.

“How did you...get in?”

Glancing back at the TV, Chris replies. “It’s amazing what you can do when you can break the sound barrier.”

Dan raises his eyebrow, because that doesn’t make any sense. At all.

“I’m kidding,” Chris jokes. “Your roomie let me in.”

He can’t help it, he visibly frowns. Not so much at anything in particular, just the constant reminder that he needs to get himself under control, because his family’s not around to cover for him if he actually fucks up. “Where is he?”

“I think he went somewhere with Peej. They invited me but I said I’d wait for you here. Phil offered free Netflix. And junk food. No mortal soul could resist that.”

Dan laughs, shaking his head. “Who is Peej?”

“My overly attractive roommate. It’s like the universe loves me. Or hates me, I haven't really decided yet.”

Dan physically has to stop himself from letting out a groan. Because he kind of feels exactly the same. He’s not going to tell Chris that, however.

He shrugs, “Probably a bit of both.”

Chris just shoves a few more chips in his mouth, looking like he is contemplating something, no doubt to do with his roommate. It’s then Dan realises that he doesn’t exactly know why Chris has come round to see him. Or, what he is even doing in his room in the first place.

“Is there a reason you came round?” Dan asks, and to his surprise, Chris just shakes his head. He shrugs and pats a spot next to him on the couch.

“Fate Dan. We both started at the institution at the same time, and got put in parallel rooms. Romeo and Juliet. With less making out. That’s reserved for others, unfortunately,” Chris replies with something Dan would describe as a shit eating grin. He says it in a perfectly posh british accent as well, which he has no doubtedly picked up from someone he has heard before. His usual voice is much too northern for him to have picked it up naturally.

“Right,” Dan agrees, but there's a smile on his face, because Chris is definitely crazy, and despite everything, for the first time in his life, having someone to talk to is really refreshing. Even if it is sort of unwillingly, and even if it is making him a tad uncomfortable. He has no idea what to do with himself, and though part of him wants to bolt, he doesn’t. He just stands there, stock still and unsure of himself.

Chris looks at him questionably, and it occurs to Dan that he is waiting for him to quit awkwardly lingering in the doorway and actually take the seat that was offered to him. He does, somewhat hesitantly.

“Have you read the introduction book yet?” Chris asks, offering the chip packet to Dan. Dan shakes his head. He probably should have, but this is all a little overwhelming and he’s hoping that Chris is feeling the same way. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like it.

Chris laughs, his next words putting Dan to ease. “Me neither, actually. PJ gave me a tour of the school, which is fucking ginormous, by the way. You could actually hide dead bodies on the campus and it would probably take months to find.”

“Is this the part where you reveal that you lure people in with your impeccable accents and kill them while they sleep? Because I’m pretty sure someone on campus might notice if a student suddenly goes missing, just saying.”

Chris laughs, his next sentence the perfect imitation of Hannibal Lector. “Wouldn't you like to know.”

Dan’s tempted to chuck one of the decorative pillows at him.

“That’s fucking creepy.”

Smiling, the brunette beside him looks smug, and far too pleased with himself.

They settle together after that, Dan allowing Chris to hoard Phil’s Netflix account. He mostly plays hour long comedian shows, but Dan doesn’t mind. Despite everything, he’s enjoying Chris’ company. When was the last time he hung out with anybody that wasn’t his parents?

Dan doesn’t want to think about that, and he’s trying to convince himself that he’s safe, that this isn’t as terrible an idea as it seems.

But it still isn't a good idea. Not yet, not this soon. Not after everything that's happened. No, he isn’t going to be making any friends, no matter how funny Chris is and no matter how much it seems that they might get along. They can be acquaintances though, and if Chris wants to waste his time entertaining the silent Dan, then that will be fine, so long as Chris doesn’t push for anything Dan can’t give.

It’s safer if they reserve their time together to watching stupid Netflix shows anyway, maybe doing homework together in the library if Chris turns out to be that kind of guy. Yeah, that could be good, and it is a better friend-acquaintance-ship for Dan than if Phil tried to hang out with him anyway.

From Dan’s experiences, being around the people he finds attractive never turns out well for him.

“Hey, so, Peej was telling me about this cool party they throw on the last Saturday of every month. You maybe wanna go tomorrow?” Chris suddenly suggests. Dan glances over, and bites his lip.

“Nah. I’m cool.”

Chris eyes him for a minute, and then he shrugs. “Suit yourself, then.”

--

The only real bonus about having the ability to control light, is not having to worry about a lamp. Dan's hands skim the leather bound book, hands glowing against the page and illuminating the words he wants to read.

IV- students are prohibited from using their abilities upon other students, teachers or non-novas.*

He scoffs a bit. He would of thought this was basic knowledge. It makes him wonder though, what the students did who made this rule need to be written in the first place.

V- students are not allowed to speak or demonstrate their abilities to non-novas outside of their immediate family and/or guardians.

That point almost makes him laugh. Like he's had a choice. His life has been a constant battle to keep his abilities at bay, and unfortunately, some of the time he hasn't won, if the most recent events at his other school are anything to go buy, not to mention everything else that's happened.

It makes Dan wonder though, what would happen if the school didn't find out about him, if he hadn't accepted, if he’d chosen not to come here, and continued on like he had been for the past 17 years of his life. Part of him wants to know, another part of him doesn't.

VI- students are permitted to use their abilities within the designated school zones only.

At least that explains the girls using their abilities in the courtyard outside of class.

IX- students are expected to adhere to the school schedule. No student should be out of bed after 10pm between sunday-thursday (with the exception of public holidays). A curfew of no later than 12am on weekends is permitted. Students are not allowed out of there rooms post curfew.

It's not like Dan plans on being out and about past then, but to be honest, he doesn't have the best sleep schedule. He supposes that at least if he can stay up on tumblr to 3am even if he can't go get his usual 2am snack.

The asterisk at the bottom of the page states apart from within class training. But that's not what gets his attention. It's the final remark at the end of guide.

Students who disobey the rules will be punished accordingly.

Dan reads it a few times, because what does that even mean? How does someone with abilities punish someone? Let alone accordingly. It sends a small shiver down his spine. He has doubts that detention is the only method of use when it comes to breaking some of the major rules. He hopes that's not true, but then again, how do you deter a student from using their abilities on others without some sort of serious consequence?

He places the book on top of his bedside table. The words seeping in as the glow disappears. He wraps himself up in his duvet, curling against himself and tossing until he faces the wall.

Maybe, if he feels up to it, he will ask tomorrow. Maybe.

--

It’s dark when he wakes up. He’s a bit disorientated, and it takes Dan a few moments to register what’s going on. He can feel himself burning up, feel the heat under his skin sting in a way that he swears should seer. Pushing the covers up, he struggles to breathe, and wills himself to get a grip.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Phil sleeping, moonlight falling onto his face from the open window.

It’s the first night this has happened in a while, when his uncontrollable urge has woken him up in the middle of the night. Beads of sweat rolls down his face. His fists clench together, press against his chest. Words chant in his head. Not here, not now.

He can feel the tears prickle in his eyes. It’s his first night and his worst fear is already coming true. His abilities restlessly prickle under his skin, warmth flowing through his body relentlessly. He tries to take deep breaths, closing his eyes and concentrating. Pleading with himself. Forcing the heat away. His right palm lights up momentarily, and Dan practically chokes. He clenches his fist tighter, the light fading away almost as quickly as it shot through.

It’s several agonizing minutes before Dan can feel his control pushing through. He settles down, jagged breaths becoming more even as the heat dissipates. His head flops back against the bedframe, exhaustion rushing over his body. He can feel his energy slipping away, the internal struggle zapping all the fight from him.

He slinks down, sheets engulfing him once again. Darkness surrounds him, guiding him back to sleep. So quickly, that he doesn’t process the pair of blue eyes looking straight at him.

Link to chapter 4: Glow 

[kowlsy2]

y'all know that trope about two friends getting married at 35 bcs theyre still single? Heres my take on it w/ the dream team. Lets be real these three would get married for a meme. (posted on mobile if formatting is weird)

--

Okay, if Dream was being honest he barely remembered the conversation. Him and Sapnap were still using skype for god's sake, it happened a long time ago. Sapnap had gotten on, quiet, and just seemed out of it.

(or had it all been a joke? a stupid joke between middle schoolers??).

How it started didn't matter. The ending was the same. They were so young, but already Dream worried too much about looking cool- about looking 'right'. About not being the nerdy boy who didn't talk to girls and spent all day hutched over a computer in some dark room while his cooler classmates did all the stuff they talk about in books and movies, coming of age, whatever.

If they were both single, hopelessly single, when sapnap turned 25, they would get married.

"Ew dude dont be gay"

"I'm not gay!! I'm just saying if we got married then we could meet! and then like, I don't know help each other get girls. We wouldn't like, actually be married, it'd just be paperwork."

"Sure dude, whatever. Lets get married if we're still single in a decade and a half. theres no chance."

What a stupid meme.

--

It was a bit more of a big deal with George.

Dream never asked George about his love life-- it seemed insensitive honestly. He knew, or basically knew, that George had never really gotten close with girls. It wouldn't surprise him at all if George hadn't even had his first kiss yet. No girlfriend, no date to formals; nothing.

They were older now, Dream had been doing online school for a year at this point, George was going to uni, they were growing up. They spent more time talking then they didn't; but Dream never brought up his fumbling attempts at kissing, dating, even that ill fated attempt at 'more' at that one party.

But george brought it up, late at night, quiet as death.

"I think I'm going to die alone."

The words were funny. His tone was not.

"What are you talking about?"

"I think I'm never going to have a girlfriend."

"Did something happen? Dude that's ridiculous."

"Is it? I'm 20 and I've never had a girl even like me. I just don't think I'll ever find someone that likes me." A pause. "Nothing happened, in particular. I just was thinking about it. I'm just like- I don't know- I thought for a little that I was just going slowly, but now everyone I know, even people younger than me, everyone has had girlfriends, and sex and I'm just. Not. Doing that. No one wants to do that with me."

"I'm sure thats not true!"

"Yes it is! All the girls here, they want to date cool dudes, dudes with experience, who don't have fucking minecraft server staff meetings on friday nights instead of going out to clubs and whatever."

"Like you'd even want to date a girl who goes out and gets trashed on a friday night."

"I'd date anyone at this point. but no one would date me, much less like, marry me."

"Marry you? Dude what are you talking about, marriage is like, so far away from us"

"Not really Dream. My mum got married a year after she graduated uni, thats only a few years away. Most people get married in their 20s, and I can't even get a single date with a girl."

"Dude, worst comes to worst, if you're like, 29 and still single I'll marry you."

"Please don't joke about this"

"I'm not! If we are both single, and you're almost 30, and you still haven't found a girlfriend, I'll marry you, and they you can come live in the US, easy, and all the girls will love you for your accent if nothing else"

"ha ha ha"

"Oh, don't you be sarcasitc. I'd marry you and we could just like, be friends, and live together, and it'd be so much fun. I'd totally do it."

"oh yea, and our youtube channels will have 3 million subscribes each, and minecraft will be more popular than fortnite again."

"Georgeeee just say youllll marryyy mee"

"Fine. If I'm still single in 8 years lets get married Dream."

It was barely a meme this time. But it worked.

--

He never should have included the bit with the berries in the final video. Sapnap and George had just been so funny, it felt wrong to cut it out. Dream sometimes worried that viewers didn't understand George and Sapnaps relationship, thought that they were just both his friends, so they hung out together, but this clip finally showed that they had their own relationship, their own friendship outside of him.

Even as he was touching it up he knew he was letting them outshine him in his own video. Now it felt like the meme followed him everywhere, cutting him out of the punchline, even in his own streams.

"George! Thank you so much for grabing this bonemeal for me!"

"oH you're so welcome Sapnap! Anytime!"

"Wow george you're so kind and generous!"

"Sapnap you're so polite! and it's such a good job you're doing with the farm!"

"Thank you so much George! I'm so glad you've taken the time to let me know that I'm appreciated!"

Dream had to do something before the entire stream got derailed; he had a goal and he wasn't going to let his idiot best friends upset if.

"yes yes you're both wonderful people, so generous, ladies they are single."

Oh my god how didn't I notice! George, you're like, perfect husband material!"

"Sapnap youre also going to be amazing husband, so kind, and hardworking and-"

Chat was in shambles, Dream would need to act fast if he ever had a chance at getting them to stop.

"well if you're both such good husband material why don't you marry each other?"

That would stop them in their tracks.

"Oh Dream that's such a good idea! Sapnap, love of my life, will you marry me?"

Or not.

(Dream always forgot how much more confident George was when he wasn't the one streaming)

"Oh George! Yes! a million times yes! As soon as you come to the states!"

The meme was much funnnier this time.

--

It may have been a stupid idea. A face reveal, and a meet-and-greet and meeting George and Sapnap in person for the first time, all at the same time.

But hey, Dream wasn't famous for forthought. He was famous for cluches.

By this point (5 million subscribers oh my god) George and Sapnap getting married had been a well established meme.

Him and George hadn't ever talked about That Conversation again, but sometimes, he'd send george funny articles about people marrying to get green cards, or videos of american women swooning over British accents. (it still wasn't that much of a meme, but it seemed less likely now. They had all grown so much, become so much more sure in themselves), and sometimes George sent them to Dream as well.

He had forgotten about his conversation with Sapnap, years ago, before it all started.

But before leaving for vidcon he needed something soothing, something mindless, so he had been sorting through old accounts, deleting anything he hadn't used in years.

And he found his oldest skype account.

Of course all three of them had planned to get married to each other, like something out of a shitty fanfic.

But that didn't mean it wasn't funny.

So he bought them matching rings.

Sue him. He had the money.

Dream had planned to do it at his face reveal, but, it got much, much too chaotic fast, and he didn't think fake proposing to his two best friends would calm people down.

So he did it afterwards.

I mean he already had the rings.

"What is this?"

"Relax, dude, its a joke--mostly."

"What??"

Okay maybe it felt a little stupid when they were both looking at him.

"okay so basically-- I was looking at super old skype logs, and Sapnap, Nick, whatever, do you remember like, back in like 2014, we were both like, freaking out about not having girlfriends"

"oh wait-- yeah--"

"--so we said that if we were both single when we were 25 we would get married?"

"yeah, to like better be wingmen or whatever--"

"--so basically, here you go."

Dream slides the first box across the table. It has a ring in it, 2 rings of plain gold with a pressed ring of volcanic glass-- obsidian-- in the middle. He has a matching one on a chain around his neck, hidden, and a third in the box sitting in front of him.

He slides it over to George.

"and George I figured that all of our schemes about marrying so you could come live over here--"

"You guys were planning what?"

"-- and I think that you probably don't need to do that anymore, but I thought you might need this too. If you ever need a reason to stay in the states, well, there you go."

God he was awkward in real life.

"I don't know what to say--"

"God don't say anything-- Especially not on twitter-- But. Just. Thank you, so much. For being my friend. I can't marry both of you, and honestly, I'm pretty sure I should just wait and marry a girl for real, but. I'm so glad you both are in my life, and I hope you both stay in it for a long time. Like marriage or, something like that."

It's not a meme at all this time.

[daizybethea-blog]

So There’s Been Some Buzz About Legal Data Lately …

It seems that interest in legal data has reached such a level of hype that people have started asking me about it unprompted, which is an interesting development. I had assumed that when I spoke to people about this I was buttonholing them, and that they wanted to be anywhere else and talking about anything else (except of course for Tim Knight, but that’s part of the reason we’re friends). It does make sense that it’s happening now. Legal data is interesting: it describes rules and systems that affect all our lives, it is commercially valuable, and it hasn’t been analyzed as much as other similar datasets like medical information have been. Given this surge of interest I thought I would share a few thoughts on the matter here. One particular area of interest for research is applying artificial intelligence techniques to case law for various applications, especially predictive analytics. I have written about this before here: “Like Moneyball for Lawyers?” on October 17, 2016, and generally my opinions haven’t changed in the last year and a half. There is not enough data in court decisions to provide good analytics for individual judges in particular areas of law. To adequately assess a prospective professional ball player requires thousands of swings in an activity with relatively simple inputs and results. Most judges will not write more than several hundred decisions in a long and active career with complex inputs and outputs, only some of which are available for analysis, as many court activities don’t leave a readily available written record. It’s not impossible to quantify human interactions like this, but it leaves out important nuance. Aside from publicity materials and hype induced press coverage, I have not heard positive stories about the application of artificial intelligence in law. In fact what I hear from people trying to apply AI to legal materials is that they experience general frustration. Start-ups are pivoting away from legal analysis to subject areas that have more accessible datasets and less complicated source material, and those that haven’t frequently struggle to answer simple questions. There are many applications for automated analysis of legal documents, but as far as I can tell so far they tend toward extracting particular information such as judges’ names, and, as the field has moved on, this is no longer considered “AI”. Even something as simple as saying what a case is about turns out to take nuance that computer programs struggle with (in fairness on occasion I have struggled with that too). The application of AI to legal data also suffers from the paired issues of restricted access to raw data and access to the required computing power being generally available. In the first week of studies doing an MBA they teach that for a business to be successful long term there needs to be some kind of competitive advantage, and using third party resources to parse a dataset is readily replicable. I recently heard Geordie Rose speak, and what he said is that AI is hitting the limit of what can be accomplished with free text analysis, because the programs have no context for what they are analyzing, i.e. it has no frame of reference for what an apple is, only that it associated with “pie” and “tree” strings of text. He believes that the emergence of true artificial intelligence is imminent (and is quite alarming on the subject), but that this will likely require building robots for it to explore the world. Current AI systems are looking at a series of binary encoded text and trying to find patterns, but they have no conception of which of that text is significant or what any of the words mean. Legal documents are some of the most complex writing in English, and it is unlikely that the nuance of what they mean will be an easy target. “Binary Code”. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Binary_Code.jpg. David Runciman recently explained this rather well in the London Review of Books: Alpha-Zero may have overcome thousands of years of human civilisation in a few days, but those same thousands of years of civilisation have taught us to register in an instant forms of communication that no machine is close to being able to comprehend. Chess is a problem to be solved, but language is not and this kind of open-ended intelligence isn’t either. Nor is language simply a problem-solving mechanism. It is what enables us to model the world around us; it allows us to decide which problems are the ones worth solving. These are forms of intelligence that machines have yet to master. (Diary, 25 January 2018, https://www.lrb.co.uk/v40/n02/david-runciman/diary) Another area of interest in legal data is to look at statistical elements of the justice system. As an example, the question I’ve always wanted the answer to is how much more likely people accused in criminal cases are to plead guilty based on longer distances between their residences and the court point given the increased difficulty involved in traveling so far—in fact I would be thrilled to know the answer if anyone does the research. The problem is that this isn’t an easy thing to extract from published legal literature. Not all court decisions are published, especially in routine matters in lower levels of court. And this kind of data that would be interesting to social scientists is not generally recorded for analysis. In the cases that are published there is usually something unusual about them which makes them worth writing up. For the traditional practice of law this doesn’t matter, because the outlying cases define the range and that’s what practitioners and courts are looking for. There are several legal research tools that are based on this principle especially for sentencing and personal injury awards. This data is not suitable to predict actual rewards based on a statistical distribution because the majority of the data points are not included in the set. Most statistical tools assume normal distribution of the data with most of the data points grouped in the middle of the range, and either a random sample or complete set of data points. “A selection of Normal Distribution Probability Density Functions (PDFs). Both the mean, μ, and variance, σ², are varied. The key is given on the graph.” https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Normal_Distribution_PDF.svg. But court judgements aren’t a random sample. To get one would require manually compiling outcomes from court files. In British Columbia and Quebec this could be assisted by the online court document systems that are available for those provinces, but in other jurisdictions it would likely require physically traveling to a courthouse to access physical files or doing a live collection of data over a period of time. There is room to bring techniques from the social sciences into the legal system, but expect the data collection required to be onerous. For all those intrepid legal researchers, criminologists, and others who are trying to do this, I salute you and wish you well, but I think you should expect it to be difficult. That said it’s a good opportunity to look for insights no one else has had before. A notable exception to this lack of data is the First Nations Court in British Columbia, which has been collecting statistics on outcomes for their clients to better describe the value of their approach. I wrote about the First Nations Court here, but I’m sure there are better sources if you care to look for them. If there are others, I invite you to add them in the comments below. Just because it’s going to be difficult doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing. Consider John Snow’s manually compiled map of cholera deaths from 1854: “Original map made by John Snow in 1854. Cholera cases are highlighted in black”. 1854. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Snow-cholera-map-1.jpg. He saved millions of lives in his pioneering work on disease transmission by looking at the patterns of distribution. There is great work that can be done in law, but the ease of getting there has been overstated. http://www.slaw.ca/2018/03/29/so-theres-been-some-buzz-about-legal-data-lately/