#i get out all my bitchery over here so i can be trusted over there because my intentions are in fact good

[crimeronan]

i made a post on nextdoor not even asking for help -- just saying hey, covid is in the neighborhood, it sucks, please remember us sad waifish immunocompromised sods and schedule your boosters, i am indebted for everything everyone's done so far to manage the pandemic -- and within a few hours a lady i haven't spoken to before (but whose profile has a long legitimate posting/comment history) DMed me telling me she was sorry to hear i'm sick and she could drop off some groceries at my apartment if we need them in the next few days. wah 🥺

[amethyst-geek]

My theories on that scene from the Season 4 preview

When I saw the preview for 4, something that stood out to me (besides Shadow Moth’s hilarious look) is the scene where Alix, Alya, Mylene, Rose, and Juleka getting re-akuamatized. I have come up with several theories regarding the circumstances behind their akumatization, several of which I already shared in the form of asks @princess-of-the-corner and I would like to elaborate on them here (As u can only say so much in an ask), as well as provide some additional theories. 

1. Lila’s lies have successfully gotten the girls pissed at Marinette and/or Ladybug- admittedly, this one is the least likely from both a watsonian and doyelist standpoint. From a doylelist standpoint, I feel like the episode will be enough a re-hash of Felix and Ladybug without the whole “someone got the girls pissed at one of the heroes by framing one of the main characters” thing.  From a Watsonian standpoint, they probably already been informed of Lila’s ‘lying disease’ after the events of Ladybug, so Lila’s probably going to have a harder time getting people to believe her (because if someone told me that they had a lying disease that forces them to lie, I’d probably take any other claim with a grain of salt). 

2. The girls decided to have a meeting to discuss Lila’s disease and how they can help her, and when the girls started comparing notes regarding Lila’s stories (like saving Jagged Stone’s cat) and realized that even her claim about having a lying disease doesn't make sense (because if she was lying about Marinette stealing the test answers and necklace, then how did they wind up in her backpack and locker, and also shouldn't the faculty already been informed of Lila’s disease when she first came to school?). Their confusion regrading what’s true and what isn't, remorse for not listening to Marinette, and anger at Lila, draw an akuma which lands on them while they were holding hands as part of an attempt to comfort each other and calm down. Now unlike in Felix where Lady Wifi is the only akuma that makes sense in the context of “my friend sent us a mean message when we just trying to cheer him up,” most if not all of the returning akumas could easily be applied to the situation of the girls starting to see through Lila’s lies. I can practically hear Hawk Moth’s speech to them- “Timebreaker, you regret having trusted this liar over your own friend, so I‘m giving u the chance to go back in time to fix your mistake. Lady Wifi, I’m giving u back the power to expose her lies. Princess Fragrance, Lila Rossi used u and your friends as pawns, but now, you’ll be the one who controls her and everyone around her. Reflekta, this girl lied to make herself the center of attention, but it might be difficult for her to stand out if everyone looks the same. Horrificator, I’m giving you the power to make Lila feel as helpless as her past victims. In return, well you probably know the drill by now. Do we have a deal?” 

3. Verity Queen made them her knights- Mrs. Rossi runs into Marinette and Sabine and Lila’s lying disease is brought up and Mrs. Rossi is all “my daughter doesn't have a lying disease.” An argument ensues and draws an akuma, which lands on Sabine (who may have been taking the bullet for Marinette) and she becomes Verity Queen, who has a lasso of truth, She then uses her lasso of truth on Marinette (whom Sabine is most trusting of, but she felt Mrs. Rossi would only believe Marinette if she was under the influence of the lasso of truth), and Marinette confirms that she did not cheat or steal Lila’s necklace and that she Lila clammily walk down the stairs instead being pushed down. Verity Queen then asks Marinette why Lila would want to do this, Marinette replies that she was making good on her threat to turn everyone against her. Verity Queen is understandably pissed at Lila, so she leaves to go find Lila, taking Mrs. Rossi with her.  She can't find Lila, but she does manage to find Marinette’s friends, and after explaining to them what Marinette told her about Lila, turns them into her knights, which r their akumatized forms, and she sends them out to search for Lila. They manage to track Lila down and take her to the tv station, where Verity Queen is waiting and has already ‘knighted’ Nadja back into Prime Queen. Verity Queen then uses her lasso of truth to force Lila to admit all of her wrongdoings on live tv. 

4. Mrs. Rossi gets akumatized- Mrs. Rossi finally gets around to asking her colleagues what they should do about Ladybug’s incompetence. Mistaking this for a joke, the colleagues laugh their asses off. As they do so, Mrs. Rossi’s anger at not being taken seriously draws an akuma and here is Hawk Moth speech to her: “Red Queen, nobody but you cares about getting the akumas under control, so I’m giving u the power to do it yourself. In return, I ask that u bring me the miraculous of the heroes too incompetent to do it themselves. Do we have a deal.” The akumatized Mrs. Rossi replies “Time to show those how to do their jobs!” and becomes Red Queen who has the power to turn up to 16 people (I’m going for a chess motif here. Maybe I should call her White Queen instead) back into their akumatized forms (but she’s under the impression that they’re already in their akumatized forms) and control them. Among the people she turns back into akumas are Alix, Alya, Mylene, Rose, and Juleka. As for who the rest of the re-akuamitzed ‘pieces,’ hard to say (there r a lot to choose from). After de-akumatizing Mrs. Rossi, she explains what Lila told her, and the the heroes (which may include new ones, as in this scenario, Ladybug and Chat Noir are dealing with 16 villains, who will probably be more spread out throughout the city this time around) and former ‘chess pieces’ explain the truth  Mrs. Rossi, and one of the girls wonders if Lila’s ‘lying disease’ was acting up, and Mrs. Rossi is all like ‘what lying disease?” Yeah, Lila’s in big trouble. 

5. it’s just a stress-induced nightmare- it won't be the main focus of the episode, it will just be the opening scene to show how the pressure of being the new guardian is getting to her. This scenario is kinda boring.

6. Sandboy 2- Sandboy is back again, but similar to Gamer and Puppeteer, his powers have been modified. This time, instead of bringing people’s nightmares to life, he forces them into a deep sleep where they r forced to deal with nightmares they can’t wake up from (think the “Only a Dream” two-parter of Justice League, except that Sandboy can't enter anyone’s dreams). Among Sanboy’s victims is Marinette. Her nightmare (and possibly the episode, of the writer do that thing where they don't immediately reveal it’s a dream) begins with her friends disappointed with her for reason they refuse to explain and transform back into the akumatized forms and they go after her. In this nightmare, the re-akumtizations don't end with the ones seen the preview. One by one, everyone who has been akumatized turns back into their akuma form, ending with Chat Noir becoming Chat Blanc and then everyone screams at Ladybug/Marinette for falling them. She tries to summon her lucky charm, but it doesn't work. Then a nightmare version of Hawk Moth shows up and he sends an akuma Ladybug, who tries to dodge, only for Volpina to hold her down, and when Ladybug tries to resist the akumtization, all while letting out some of the most bloodcurdling screams in Christina Vee’s career. Meanwhile, in the real world, Tikki tries to wake up Marinette and when that fails, tries to remove her earrings so she can loan them to someone, but that fails too for whatever reason). So out of desperation, Tikki grabs one of the goat miraculous out of the miracle box and tracks down Marc. Tikki explains that Ladybug has been affected by Sandboy’s powers and need Marc’s help to save her). Marc then becomes the goat hero, whose power is astral projection (btw the idea of the goat’s power being astral projection was probably inspired by a fanfic called Capricorn by mico-j-ken, as Capricorn has similar powers. The fanfic in in fan fiction.net if anyone wants to read it). Goat! Marc then uses his powers to enter Marinette’s dreams, to let her know’s just a dream and also give her a much-needed pep talk. Marinette wakes up and transform into Ladybug, and defeats Sandboy. When Marc tries to give the goat miraculous back to Ladybug, she tell him to keep it, explaining that this experience made her realize that there will be situations that she won't be able to get out of with our help. As a sidenote, Marc may or may not have figured out Ladybug’s secret identity (depending on how careful Tikki, such as asking Goat! Marc to close his eyes while she lead Marc to Marinette) and may have found out about Lila’s bitchery via Nightmare!Lila monologging about making good on her threat against Marinette as Goat!Marc was entering Marinette nightmare. 

What do u guys think? Which scenario do think is the coolest and/or most likely? 

[the-voice-of-hell]

Rent is Theft, part 24

Read from the beginning here, read the previous chapter here.  Note:  My MC is a Filipina trans woman and I am not.  If you have notes on that or anything else, hit me up.

                                                      ***

      The air was thick with heat.  Was it my imagination, or was the ceiling softly glowing orange?  I felt like there was a wind coming from somewhere, like what you’d imagine the wind felt like in Mount Doom that was blowing Elijah Wood’s shag around.  I felt it in my ears and it made it hard to hear myself or Leimomi.

      But I persevered, running through any faerie tales I could remember, and making them as baroque with silly details as I could manage.  The little mermaid had a waterlogged beanie baby collection with individual names, Bluebeard’s bride stuck her sisters back together with novelty Hello Kitty duct tape stolen from his sex dungeon.  I couldn’t hear a word of it outside of my thoughts.  Was I making a sound?  Was I even breathing?

      A building ache finally forced me to face biological reality again.  I had to pee.  My skin was on fire, the world was on fire, but it was still an invisible flame - nothing smoking, nothing scorching, no yellow inferno roiling out of my ruined flesh.  It was just a feeling of dangerous, alarming heat, dancing over everything.  Were there actual heat waves coming off my skin?  I couldn’t tell.  Sweat rained over my eyes and I blinked it away, but I forced myself to stand up.

      I felt like a wooden skeleton.  No muscle, just clacking fake bones.  How was I moving?  I reached the bathroom, stumbled through the door and almost fell down.  Instinctively I reached for something to hold onto.  I grabbed a dangling hand towel.

      It immediately slipped out of its perch, causing a weird floppy piece of shiny garbage to double over and splatter to the ground.  It was my improvised *redacted*  How had I not noticed it sitting where I left it, at any point in the last few days?  Where it hit the floor, a spray of green trash slime splurted out of the midsection, onto the tiles and my feet.  It smelled like a dumpster.

      I was just glad I didn’t fall on the floor, either from the incident or from despair, because I knew I would have pissed myself where I lay.  I turned to the toilet and laboriously went through the necessary motions.  In my imagination, the flushing toilet would have blown miraculously cooled pisswater back in my face, granted a moment’s surcease from the invisible flames, but no.  This air wouldn’t take moisture, and that water was probably warm enough to slow boil eggs.

      I walked again, the burning wooden skeleton, clacking away.  In the bathroom door I was arrested by the scene before me.  There were our little beds, like funeral biers - mine empty and Leimomi’s occupied by a limpid melting Ophelia.  The upholstery glistened like the sweat on her body, drenched.  The lighting fixtures held a dull light as if the heat in the air was pure electricity half waking them from the slumber we’d induced.  Was that blackening along the walls, in the areas nearest the ceiling?  The ceiling itself was definitely glowing orange now.

      Leimomi lifted her head - clearly an agonizing thing to do - and tugged a pillow under it so she could more easily look at me.  Drops ran down her face, but were they sweat or tears?  She was too weary to make a facial expression that would tell.  “Courtney,” her voice was minute, distant, rippled the way light is rippled by heat waves.  “Tell another.”

      As I walked back to my bed, black curls of slow-burned posters crumbled in my wake and fell like dry leaves.  I surrendered to gravity carefully, one hand, one more, my hips, rolled over, feeling like dead weight.  “I love you,” I said, not hearing a word of it.  I took up my water bottle again, dribbling what I could past the lips, then told another story.

      Were these thoughts without sounds?  Could she hear them?  Could she hear them with her mind, our bodies burned away from our souls, free to listen without ears?  I didn’t know.

      Once upon a time there was a young gal with a bad family.  Maybe dad died, leaving her in the care of wicked stepmom, or maybe that was her real mom but she liked to pretend it wasn’t, due to the pain that somebody biologically obligated to care for you just doesn’t, a way to not feel like that was her fault - that she was inherently and uniquely horrible.  People called her Cinderella because she was covered in the ashes of rock star posters.

      Stepmom and three stepsisters made her do all the chores and such, but you know, that sort of thing isn’t usually like they say it is in stories.  It’s not like, do these chores or we cut you, you ugly slag.  It’s more like, “Oh I just can’t right now, could you please?  You’re so much better at that,” or malicious compliance where they do the chores so bad it makes the more responsible person stop asking.

      They’d make Cinderella do emotional labor too.  The girls would gab about their drama all day, say “You’re such a good listener,” but never afford a moment of reciprocation.  Stepmom would get home from work and need to take a shit, but had constipation so she’d be in there a long time.  At some point back when Cinderella was eleven, she invited her into the bathroom, so she could pass that time venting about coworkers she hated.  Cinderella was too young to realize this was a flavor of child abuse, putting worries onto someone who doesn’t deserve them, isn’t equipped to understand them - and also making it pretty likely she’d grow up into that “amirite ladies” culture of woe and bitchery, unable to have a conversation of her own about the nice things in life, only ever able to talk about who was a bitch to whom, or who’s getting fat, or whatever.

      And there she was, a young lady, still not out from under the shadow of that porcelain throne.  But somehow she hadn’t absorbed that particular type of damage - she still had the ability to dream, to think of things beautiful and interesting.  It was worn down every time her stepmom spoke, but it still remained.  She had a spark of life.

      One day prom was coming - man I’m like the five hundredth person to turn this into a modern high school thing aren’t I? - and Cinderella really wanted to go.  She just wanted a chance to feel beautiful, to maybe dance with somebody.  There was no dream she would be loved, but just that she could feel something glittering and sweet.  It went without saying then, that she was not going.  Nobody had specifically forbidden it, nobody made any mention of it, but all preparations and discussion revolved around stepsisters and their needs.

      The night of the prom came and those kids were out the door.  Cinderella knew it was coming, but somehow spaced out on it until the last minute, until there was no denying it.  As the door clicked shut, stepmom put up the legs on her recliner and turned up the volume on a commercial for the Kia Summer Sales Event.  Cinderella walked upstairs like a ghost, and fell down crying in the hall.

      The door to the linen closet opened, and a beautiful little figure in taffeta, purple,and rhinestones appeared, hair a beautifully piled coiff of glossy black ringlets, a pencil thin moustache on their lips.  She looked up in amazement, not able to see clearly through the tears, no idea if she could trust what she was seeing.

      “Prince?,” she asked.

      It was indeed Prince, and he was funky.  Perhaps in becoming a ghost he had lost a foot of height.  But why was he appearing to her, and not to Morris Day?  He said, “Yes, Cinderella. This is no dream.  I was sent to make your life beautiful - but only for one shining moment.”

      “Wow.  But aren’t you a total *redacted* hound?  How can you be a fairy godmother?”

      “I might be the crown champion of boy vs. girl ball, but do I look like someone afraid to be called a fairy?”

      “And you did that homophobic song about how a lesbian girl needs to learn to be straight.”

      “Like I told Lisa and Wendy, we don’t talk about the back catalogue, girl.”

      “Is this your punishment for something?”

      “Being a Jehovah’s Witness.  Turns out telling babies not to get crucial healthcare is a bad thing.  But let’s focus on your problems.  What is keeping you from the prom tonight?”

      “My stepmom and stepsisters don’t care about me, just want me to slave away for them forever, never have a time for myself.”

      “I will make them care about you, make them slaves to you, and make this time be only for yourself.”  He pulled out a magic guitar, spraying sparkles across the beige carpet.

      “No!  I don’t want any of that.”

      “But you want to go to prom, right girl?”

      “Yeah.  Yes, please, my lord.”

      “I love the respect, but I am not allowed to be addressed as such, at this stage in my career.  And so again, pray tell, what keeps you from this promenade?  If you would not have me remove your problems, perhaps there are boons that can be offered.”

      “Well, I don’t have a dress, or makeup, or nice hair, or a way to go to the school.”

      “Crucial.  I can work with this.  Come.”  He clapped twice above his head and led her into her bedroom.  While he was unusually small, his magic guitar was full size and dragged on the carpet behind him.

      In Cinderella’s room, under a silver shaft of moonlight, he did a little dance and grabbed his crotch.  It was part of the magic, completely justified.  Her room was basically a walk-in closet, and some of her cleaning stuff was jammed in there as well.  He pointed his finger at a mop with a spray of sparkles.  It transformed into a beautiful silver-white wig.  He spun his finger in the air and it flew onto her head.

      “Wow,” said Cinderella.

      He picked up the guitar, did a spin, then played a cool riff.  Her ratty sweats changed into a fuchsia ball gown with neon purple lace and a bodice covered in purple rhinestones.  “It’s so beautiful,” she cried.

      “You know it,” he said.  “Now let’s sort out this situation.”  He pointed the guitar’s head at her face like a gun and played a wild guitar solo.  She could feel the ashes sliding around her skin, changing shape.  Looking at a dingy mirror, she saw the carbon condense into eyeliner, eyeshadow, and glittering lipstick, leaving her skin clean and clear.

      “I’m gonna cry again, I’m sorry,” she said, hand on her heart.

      “Don’t ruin that makeup, girl.  There is one item left to attend to.  Thy conveyance.  Approach me.”  He turned his back to her and with a wave of his hand the window opened.

      She came near to the little man, not knowing what to expect.  As she drew near, he seemed to increase in size - no, the whole world was increasing in size, or she was shrinking!  He scooched forward on his guitar, leaving room for her to straddle it in the back, and then it started to fly.  She grabbed his little waist and they flew off into the night sky.

      Smoke then, curling around my body like tendrils from incense, rising to pool and eddy at the ceiling.  It intensified, white and opaque at the corners of my vision, but inverted to darkness as it reached the glowing orange expanse - a negative print of the ocean, the opposite of water.

      Prince flew her to school and daintily alit to the gymnasium roof.  “I’ll wait for you under the north bleachers of the baseball field.  If you aren’t there at midnight, I cannot help you get home.”

      “Thank you so much, Prince!  I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

      “All I really need is to know that U believe.”  He pointed at the sky and took a tiny bow.

      Cinderella found a hatch to get down from the roof.  There was a ladder to a catwalk high above the gym floor, and she could see the prom below.  A few people bustled to do the last minute preparations, but there was only one dim light on.

      She wandered around looking for a way down and found nothing.  What good was it to be at prom if you could only watch it from afar?  But at last she found a rope to climb down on - one of the ropes they’d use in PR class, with knots at regular intervals.  She tossed it down and started climbing.

      When she got to the bottom, she realized she was in the middle of the dance floor.  As party lights came on and the rest of the students came in, she was the center of attention.  “Who is she?”  “How did she get in here?”  They were impressed.

      She humbly demurred and headed to the punch bowls.  A chaperone was glaring at her and not noticing somebody else spiking the punch.  It was going to be one of those nights.  The DJ led off with “Fight for Your Right to Party,” which was ironic because fighting for your right to party is expressly against policy at school events.

      Phew, I thought.  Are we alive or dead?  Will this ever end?  I can’t stand it.  Christ.

      A kinda short dapper gentleman approached Cinderella and said, “Hey babe, I haven’t seen you around the school before.  Wanna cut a rug?”

      “There’s no rug, but I’ll dance.”

      “Let’s buff this basketball court wax to a high shine.”

      They danced and chatted softly between songs, and enjoyed each other’s company.  Occasionally people would congratulate the dapper gentleman on his fortune in monopolizing the attention of a radiant queen.  People would smile at them and ask questions, take pics of her dress on their cellphones.

      Her own stepsisters didn’t recognize her.  It was a magical and glittering moment.  But best of all, she was really starting to feel like a woman, like a person who could be sought after by a dashing suitor.  It was the dapper gentleman that was making her feel like that, with his smooth ways.  Maybe he felt the need to stay with her because he was insecure about his height, or maybe she was just that appealing to him, but he was gently affectionate and suave and cool, and he knew how to dance.

      I could see myself limned in blue and yellow flames like a gas stove burner.  The world above the orange glow of a furnace, the walls around cracking and blistering, the world below a whorl of charcoal and soot.  In between the flesh cooked with no end.

      Proms crown people, right?  That’s why people make Cinderella into a prom story on Nickelodeon or whatever, so they can get the prince in there.  So ceremony begins and they crown dapper gentleman and mystery girl!  They say come to the stage, so we can crown thee at the stroke of midnight.

      That reminds her that she’s about to lose her magic, miss her ride.  But will it be worth it?  No, if she was left in dingy sweats and a mop wig on stage, she’d never live it down.  This was supposed to be a glittering and magical moment, but now it would end in tragedy.

      She couldn’t resist, she kissed him one time, then said, “I’m sorry,” and bolted for the door.  People were too surprised to react fast, and she lost any pursuers on her way to the baseball field.  Would Prince be there?  Midnight was so close.

      At the stroke of midnight she was halfway to the field, when she saw him rise into the night sky, momentarily silhouetted by the moon - Prince, straddling a magic guitar.  And just like that, the mop head fell into her hands, the ashes spread over her skin, the dress became dirty sweats.

      A whirlwind of ashen scraps blew past my face and I choked on the burning trash.

      There’s more, there’s more.  I swear.  I can do it for you, Leimomi.  I can do it for what’s left of you.  She, um, she went home on foot, right?  Fuck, glass slippers.  There’s supposed to be slippers.  I forgot them.

      I know, facial recognition technology.  Yeah.  So dapper Deandre is going through the school after that, using the facial recognition software on his phone, comparing all the girls with the mystery lady on his phone.  The stepsisters are all like, me, me, but...  No, that doesn’t even make sense.

      She’s going to get found, like, maybe she’s the equivalent of a TA but for the janitor instead.  A JA, that’s our Cinderella, and he takes a pic of her face almost by accident and it matches and he’s like, baby it’s me.

      She can’t see that, doesn’t want to be known the way she is now, which the janitor thinks is lame because you shouldn’t be ashamed of your class, you know?  Patrick’s a janitor.  Ugh, where was I?  She like, um...

      Bursts of sparks and chunks of molten rock fell in random splashes around us.  If any of that touched our boiling meat, it would bore a hole straight through like industrial acid.  No escape was possible, only luck of the draw.  Who would survive and what would be left of them?, like the movie said.

      Cinderella!  Dapper Deandre prom king finds her and says, “It’s OK, sometimes your clothes and your hair and stuff are gonna suck, but you’re beautiful and cute and I will never forget our night together.  If you don’t wanna be with me, that’s cool, but I just hope, I dunno...”  And she kisses him   It’s romantic because she looks gross but he’s like.  Fuck.

      The world was coming apart into orbs of light raining into an abyss.  Nothing remained between what had once been the floor and ceiling, and no one.  There was only a heat too intense to even bother with becoming fire.  It had become another state of matter, or nothing at all.

      At last the light was consumed with black.

                                                        ***

  Read next chapter here.

[punkscowardschampions]

Nancy & Rio

Nancy: I know you're here Nancy: So wherever you're hiding, Ollie, Ollie Oxen Free Nancy: You can come out Rio: Okay Rio: Do I need to wave my white flag first? Nancy: Depends if you wanna see my brother or me Rio: I want to see you Rio: If you will Nancy: Sure? I think he'll need you after that convo, if he ever does Rio: Right Rio: Purpose of me not being there was so it could be just between you two but Rio: are you both okay? Nancy: I don't know how you want me to answer that Rio: Just honestly Nancy: I have no idea how Buster is Nancy: I don't know him very well these days Rio: I know Rio: Don't worry about him, how are you? Nancy: Do you actually care or are you just trying to feel better? Rio: Of course I care, Nance Rio: I wouldn't be here if I didn't Nancy: You'd be here for him Rio: Yes but we're here to tell you Rio: Because it matters what you think, to me and him Nancy: That may be true of you, but he's never cared what I think Nancy: That matters Nancy: You not knowing better what he's like Rio: I know he's done things, lots of things, that would make you think that Rio: and righly so Rio: but he does care Nancy: Maybe. But not enough not to do this Rio: We didn't mean for this to happen Nancy: He never means for anything to happen. That's the problem Nancy: He's hurt you and leave you and ruin everything, don't you know that? Rio: He could Rio: but if that happens, it happens and I'll deal with it, it doesn't need to change anything else Nancy: He will. And I'll be in the middle again Nancy: That's what he does Rio: That's not totally fair Rio: Chloe wasn't totally his fault, a lot of it was her Nancy: He still could've said no instead of thinking with his dick as per Nancy: And what about Erin. Look how long that lasted Rio: I know, and he knows too Rio: He regrets that for a lot of reasons now but he can't take it back Rio: He was trying to do the right thing with Erin, what he thought everyone wanted Rio: doesn't make it right but again, it wasn't just what it seems Nancy: She didn't deserve that. She was nice. Nancy: And you definitely don't deserve what he's gonna do to you Rio: True Rio: I trust him, and I don't want to not be with him on the chance that it'll end badly Nancy: Okay Nancy: He says you love each other. Do you? Rio: Yes Nancy: That's new for him Rio: That's what he told me too, yeah Nancy: Maybe I should be telling you not to hurt him Rio: You can Rio: I promise I'm not going to Nancy: How can you promise that? I'm not trying to be a bitch, I just don't understand Rio: No, its totally fair Rio: I know I've not got a spotless history, neither has he Rio: but no one can promise that and know without a doubt they won't Rio: but I love him, I only want what's best for him, to make him happy Nancy: Okay Nancy: I get that. Love, I mean Rio: Yeah Rio: You know this hasn't just come out of nowhere, right? Rio: Its been nearly 2 years, and we stopped ourselves from going there a long time before that Nancy: I know you're not me, pulling feelings out of thin air Nancy: He explained as best I'd let him Rio: I didn't mean it like that Nancy: It's fine, that's all over and done with Nancy: And nothing to do with this Rio: Okay Rio: I know its Rio: well Rio: unbelievable but Rio: it is the truth and it is happening Nancy: Yeah Nancy: Unbelievable things can happen, I know Nancy: I held onto it for a long time myself Nancy: And if he's willing to say out loud to me that he loves you it must be serious Rio: Yes, I think it is, know it is Rio: We truly wouldn't be putting this out there if we didn't need to Rio: and not just to save our own skin, I don't mean Rio: if it was just a fling, there would be no need Nancy: I understand Nancy: When it's serious, keeping it a secret, that hurts Nancy: I can't blame you for wanting to be honest, it'd make me a hypocrite Nancy: Chloe turned on me for being gay but I couldn't lie just to stay friends with her Nancy: Even if she'd been as good of a mate as I thought she was once Nancy: What happens next? He tells mum and dad and you tell yours but what then? Rio: That's how I was feeling, exactly Rio: it isn't the same thing, not saying it is Rio: but it was making me...sad and bad and just insane, keeping it in Rio: I think we're both better off for her attempts at bitchery, yeah? Rio: Hopefully, everyone is okay with it and we can be together properly Rio: That's all that's changing Nancy: It's essentially the same. People are gonna be judgmental as hell to you for it too Nancy: And nobody wants you to feel sad for something you can't help or change Nancy: Because it's like you told me when you were there for me about Sian, we don't get to decide who we love Nancy: But don't get me wrong, I'm not doing cartwheels that you acted on your feelings when you didn't have to, just like I didn't Nancy: That was a decision Rio: I'm just glad you get it Rio: I'm not expecting any more than that, honest Rio: Its harder to not act, when you know the other person feels it too Rio: Still a choice nonetheless Rio: One I can't regret, I'm afraid Nancy: I don't know, but I'll take your word for it Nancy: I know Buster when he wants something Rio: You don't hate us forever, then? Nancy: Nothing's ever that easy, just like nothing comes out of nowhere Nancy: I'm tried so often to hate him and I still don't Nancy: But if Jay gets hurt over this, we will have a problem, yeah? Rio: Could you tell him that? Not now, if you don't want Rio: and not even in so many words Rio: but I don't think he knows Rio: Trust me, I'll be the first to come for me if I let that happen Nancy: He's a straight man of course he doesn't have a clue. So oblivious Rio: Mhmm, its a fulltime occupation caring for 'em Nancy: I don't want to imagine Nancy: If you were going to fall for one of us, you could've made better decisions like Nancy: I'm a catch Rio: Duh, s'why I've gotta let an actual cute gay girl net you Rio: I like dick and the men attached to 'em, for my sins Nancy: Gross Rio: 😂 Nancy: Does that mean you don't wanna stay here with me for a while? Rio: I wish I could Rio: I don't think we can trust Chlo to let us enjoy some peace and quiet, though Nancy: Or trust yourselves to keep it PG so I don't throw up in my mouth Rio: I mean Rio: You brought it up Nancy: Disgusting Nancy: Do you want me to tell Billie? Nancy: Or June? Rio: Are you okay with that? Rio: Because if yes, then it'd be a help Rio: My plan is to tell my 'rents and let them tell all the sibs, let them know they can come to me if they want/need Nancy: Are you okay if I don't keep my heterophobia to a minimum? Nancy: Because I can't always control that Rio: Do what you must Rio: Lay it on thick with June, he doesn't need the deets there either Nancy: I will Nancy: He'll be shielded Nancy: Sweet boy Rio: Truly Rio: Do you think they'll all be okay? Nancy: I don't know Nancy: But they still need to know Nancy: If you're coming out there's no point keeping one foot in the closet Rio: I know you're right Rio: I don't want to fuck up things with them but Rio: I just have to hope they'll be okay with it, because I'd not turf them out over this if it was the over way 'round Nancy: And they'll know that Nancy: They love you and it's mutual Nancy: They may not throw you a party like we all want when we come out but they won't ever go too hard the other way Rio: It's okay Rio: Been partying hard enough for everyone Nancy: It's a relief though, isn't it? That someone finaly knows Nancy: And you can talk about it Rio: Absolutely Rio: and don't get me wrong, it'd be nice for people to be happy but I know I can't ask for that Rio: so I'm not gonna expect it Nancy: I'm happy for you Nancy: That you're happy, anyway Nancy: Maybe I wish it wasn't with my brother but I still want that for you Rio: Thanks, Nance Rio: Back at cha Rio: not that I think you and Junie are an item, I'm not that obliviously straight, don't worry Nancy: He is my love but Nancy: I'm so mad I didn't realise what was going on with you two Nancy: How dare Chloe figure something out before me Rio: You're such a stereotypical gay Rio: Wanting that tea before anyone else Rio: She's obsessed with your Brother, she probably knows when he shits, like Nancy: Before her, thank you Nancy: If I was a stereotypical gay I'd be trying to get you and Indie together Rio: Oh hell no Rio: that'd be so wrong Nancy: How is that wronger? Nancy: You love Buster Rio: I know how it sounds Rio: but she's a child! Nancy: I'll give you that Nancy: I'm not letting Jay date until she's like 35 Nancy: She might have taste which turns out the same as her mum's and yours Rio: Very Freudian Rio: Saying nothing *sips tea* Nancy: I'm saying no fuckboys allowed Nancy: That's all Nancy: Or girls Rio: We can but hope, babe Nancy: Whatever we have to do. It's a team effort now. You're in this Rio: I don't want to be too dramatic or presumptious Rio: but even as a pseudo auntie/whatever the hell I am Rio: I really care about Jay Rio: I'm going to look after her Nancy: She makes that happen Nancy: I tried really hard not to care about her before she was here but as soon as she was Nancy: I'll be dramatic and say I'll do anything for that girl Rio: Yeah, same as Buster really Rio: You can't not Rio: well, I don't see how Rio: People manage it Nancy: Don't tell him I'm still on his side Nancy: He's got a big enough head Rio: Secret's safe with me Rio: you know he just talks a big game though, yeah? Nancy: I do fucking hate him a lot of the time too, that's no secret Nancy: Don't we all Nancy: I could say I'm busy in answer to how I am and you're leave it there because it's true enough but it's not everything Rio: Do you wanna say more? Nancy: Now's not really the time Nancy: That'd be such a stereotypical gay move, make it all about me Rio: Trust, don't mind Rio: Not just 'cause anything to take the heat off, like Nancy: Just making my peace with dying alone, as standard, when even my prick of a brother won't Nancy: Casual angst Rio: I thought the NYC gay scene was poppin'? Nancy: It is Nancy: I'm not Rio: Babe Rio: Want to go hit the town before I have to go? Rio: I'm the best wingman Nancy: It'd take more than you Nancy: Oblivious hetero, remember? Rio: What would it take? Rio: You're a catch, remember? Nancy: But it's not about what I look like Nancy: I'm also an oblivious gay Nancy: I can't read signals. Or trust myself. Rio: Fear of straight girls Rio: Hit up the specific apps and put yourself out there Rio: Let them come to you first Rio: Then you can't make that mistake Nancy: Mhm I could Nancy: It's about me not them Nancy: Just because they want something doesn't mean it's the same as what I want Nancy: And anyway, all I want at the moment is to not get my heartbroken again Nancy: There's an easy solution there Rio: I feel you Rio: Some things not as easy to find as others Nancy: And when you want conflicting things, like not being lonely but also not getting hurt, it's just Nancy: Stupid Rio: You aren't alone on that one Rio: and I'd certainly be lying if I said I had any useful advice Nancy: How did you do it? Nancy: Put yourself out there with Buster of all people Rio: It didn't start like this, obviously Rio: Sometimes you put yourself out for less than you're after, or think you want Rio: and you still end up where you wanna be Rio: not saying that was my plan here but do you get me? sometimes you just have to see where shit takes you Rio: I know its hard to allow that when you've been burnt before Nancy: Sometimes that's so dangerous Nancy: Especially when you're an idiot like me Rio: Preaching to the choir, babe Rio: think, what's the worst that could happen? Rio: its probably happened, yeah? Rio: and like, arguably, this situation with me and Buster is really bad but Rio: doesn't feel it to us, so Nancy: I just don't think I can do it Nancy: It hurt so much losing someone who didn't love me back Nancy: If someone did and I messed it up Nancy: I think I'd die Rio: Yeah, its scary Rio: you know the old adage exists for a reason though Nancy: Does it? Rio: Definitely Rio: What's life without love? Rio: Not just romantic though, of course Nancy: True. Always got that fuckboy brother of mine Nancy: Like it or not Nancy: Teach him some respect would you please, lord knows I've tried Rio: And the rest of us Rio: I'll do my best Nancy: Jay's already helped, because he's that stereotypical straight man Nancy: And he's getting another daughter soon so Rio: He'll get there Rio: He's not as bad as he puts on Nancy: For your sake he better not be Rio: Come on Rio: I might be in love but I still have self-respect Nancy: Just checking, honey Nancy: Making sure you're still in there Rio: Please Rio: No man's changing me Nancy: Glad to hear it Nancy: Unless it's for the better, my mum vouches for that so often I wouldn't be surprised if that's why I'm gay Rio: 😂 Rio: Such a natural-born rebel, babe Nancy: Who can compete with a love that real? Best not to attempt Nancy: Or to look at it another way, I win, because I'll be the greatest without ever letting a man touch me. Sorry mum. No offence like Rio: That's the spirit Rio: Sure she'll be proud Nancy: We can only hope Rio: You don't think she is? Nancy: Maybe when I finish uni. I haven't done anything 'epic' yet Nancy: Haven't had two children though, so by degrees. Sorry Buster. No offence either Rio: Less black marks, for sure Nancy: We've both made it this far, she'll be happy with that Nancy: People have dropped out over less than what Buster's had to handle thanks to Chloe Nancy: So much drama Rio: Yeah, I'd bet on it Rio: She's no fool Rio: Some of us never even start, like 😜 Rio: Chlo must be fuelled by it, no other need to love it so very much Nancy: She is Nancy: I've never known anyone better at twisting things than that girl can Nancy: Hence I gave up punishing him fairly quick. She's better at it than I'd ever be Rio: Can't disagree Rio: She's got a knack for it Rio: and a lot of time on her hands to dish it out Rio: Bless her Nancy: How much did she see? Nancy: I don't want gross details I'm just trying to figure how she'll spin it Nancy: If she decides to Rio: Nothing like that, you're precious gay sensibilities are safe Rio: I don't know, obviously she was early and unannounced so we weren't on guard Rio: I clearly looked too comfortable for her liking? Nancy: God forbid you weren't hanging from the ceiling like the villain she thinks you are Nancy: And she'd be the type to bring your clothes into it, not being happy unless you were wearing a turtle neck or something Nancy: As if that can't still be sexy, excuse her Rio: Nail on the head, babe Rio: Your teacher fetish is showing shh Rio: but yeah, I'm basically a whore of Babylon here and she is taking the moral highground as a 'Mother' to act like that's why she's angry about it Nancy: Stop. I have to avoid the library and claim it's down to the dyslexia Nancy: Yeah Buster said she called you a prostitute Rio: Its chill, I've got hundreds Rio: and you're legal now, way more of a sexy grey area Rio: Not the first time I've heard that one Rio: Never from anyone I give a shit about though so, meh Nancy: Buster was so angry Nancy: Far from meh Nancy: I haven't seen him like that for a while Nancy: He must care Rio: I told you he's not that bad Nancy: Time will tell Nancy: The baby's due soon. How do you feel about that? Rio: I Rio: I don't know, to be honest Rio: Excited for him, glad Erin won't be as much of a nightmare about sharing as Chlo Rio: but I'd be lying if I said that didn't make me a tiny bit insecure, because she isn't as obviously not right for him, you know? Rio: He's done his best to make me not feel that but its still there, shh Nancy: I don't think she wants him back but it won't be easy having her on the doorstep Nancy: And newborns are harder work than one year olds so they really are gonna need each other Rio: She doesn't Rio: Yeah, I know Rio: I'll have to deal, like Nancy: She doesn't have the same family support as Chloe from what I've seen Nancy: I think there's just her mum Nancy: I don't know where she lives but it's not here, just Erin's uni is Nancy: I feel bad for her Rio: Yeah Rio: She hasn't done anything wrong, of course Rio: and I'm not going to begrudge her the help Rio: not that bitch Nancy: Get me saying here like I'm still a Dubliner Nancy: You're good, too good for him, but I can't stop you loving the prick Rio: Can't deny that heritage, ginge 🍀💛 Rio: Nah Rio: on both counts 🤷 Nancy: I really can't, everywhere I go in this city they go on about my accent Nancy: Well, I surrender. Just be happy, alright? Rio: Oh, Yanks Rio: How many of them have told you about their roots like you give a fuck? 🙄 Nancy: Honestly Rio: On it, you too, yeah? Nancy: I'll do my best Nancy: I can't help loving you, but it's platonic at least. No need to add to your drama Rio: The love triangle no one asked for Rio: I love you too, lots and lots Rio: Thanks for being you and decent about this Nancy: That or, Me, the librarian and the cat Nancy: Has a more lesbian phrase ever left my mouth? Nancy: Thanks for being you and not letting Buster turn you into a prick Rio: Never change Rio: and I won't either Nancy: Great Nancy: We can definitely go from there Rio: ✌💋 Rio: Lemme know when you fancy hitting up dem gay bars and I'll be back to party Nancy: I'm not bringing you, you'll turn every head Nancy: Especially if you borrow my clothes again Rio: N'awwh! Rio: I'll wear my own whorey attire, don't worry Nancy: That's not better Nancy: They'll all want you or think you're the stripper Rio: I can work with that 😏 Nancy: Face it you aren't coming and stealing my thunder if and when I decide I wanna bring it Rio: FINE Rio: Just tell me all about it yeah? And grace the 'gram with your beauty Nancy: The second part at least Rio: Boo! 😜 Nancy: Don't pretend you want all the ins and outs of whoever takes my virginity Rio: I am extremely nosy Rio: and caring, tah 😎 Nancy: And inappropriate but who am I to judge like Rio: Potayto potahto Nancy: That was beautiful Nancy: It made me homesick Rio: Not long 'til Christmas, babe Rio: or my Bday but not angling, like Nancy: I'll bring the finest of what NYC has to offer Nancy: When I decide what that is Rio: Who Rio: 😉 Nancy: 🙄 Nancy: Speaking of, go find Buster, sure I made him cry like Nancy: Standard Rio: On it Rio: Anything you wanna say to dry those tears, or cause more, not taking sides here Nancy: So neutral I felt it Nancy: You can tell him to expect a text when he gets home safe Nancy: You too Rio: That's me Rio: Cool Rio: Well, better free up my texting fingers for this drama Rio: Catch up soon? Nancy: Yeah Rio: 💞

[mllemusketeer]

Jazz and Groceries

Continuing the self-insert-verse! Because we all need some cheerful escapism right now. 

Or, the one in which Autobot over-protectiveness meets its match, and Jazz is embarassed in a parking lot.

There’s something about ordering at the butcher’s counter at a grocery store that makes you feel like a Real Adult, and plus, my local grocery store often has better prices at the butcher’s counter. Which is great, because one of my few sins is the amount I spend on food.

“Anything else?”

“A pound of the double-smoked bacon, please.” The guy behind the counter and I shared the grin of the unapologetic bacon lover.

“Great stuff.”

“God yes.” Okay, the double-smoked bacon wasn’t that economical but it was good. There’s no point in being unhealthy if you don’t really enjoy it.

Bee-deep.

I accepted the brown paper packages I’d ordered, gave the guy another grin and polite farewell, and went to look at the veggies. Again. I was making up my mind about the bok-choi, which were expensive, but the cheap ones were another 20 minutes of driving away, at the international market.

Bee-deep. I frowned down at my phone and pulled it out. Text from Jazz. How much longer u going to b in there?

I grinned at the texts, their mash-up of complete sentences and text speech typical of a Cybertronian texting. They tried text speech, couldn’t quite get the hang of it.

Bee-deep.

Seriously.

Bee-deep.

I am SO BORED.

“Serves you right,” I muttered to the phone. You see, Jazz had been getting over-protective lately. All the ‘bots had. There had been the annual report of causes of morbidity and mortality in the US last week, and unfortunately, I’d been the conduit through which it’d gotten to the ‘bots. Hey, I’m taking classes in policy on top of my ethics coursework. It’s all in a day’s work for me.

And had totally panicked Jazz and co. Because right there, right at the top of causes of accidental death? And near the top of overall causes of death?

Motor vehicle related incidents.

See, we all know, intellectually, that getting behind the wheel is the most dangerous thing we do on a daily basis. Hell, it’s one of the most dangerous things we do, period. We just sort of accept it, that yeah, sure, there’s a chance we could get ourselves killed or injured every time we go to the store, and then we ignore it, because going to the store needs to happen with the minimum of gibbering terror.

Which is why it took me until I was 21 to get my license, but that’s tangential to the whole issue.

So Jazz got ahold of my iPad, open to said report, and, because ‘head of special ops’ translates to ‘incurable fucking snoop’ in personal relationships, read it, and then he chirped it to Optimus, and Optimus, who goes around vacuuming up interesting information about humans like my dog sucks up spilled shredded cheese from the kitchen floor, hadn’t quite run across that tidbit yet, and freaked. In a very gentle and stately manner, of course, because he’s still Optimus Prime. But he freaked.

The reasoning went thus: the humans are risking themselves daily driving to work. It is probably the riskiest thing they do every day.

This includes the human researchers. Actually, it especially means the researchers, who are crossing town on a daily or weekly basis to get to the base.

And to go to the grocery store. And things like that.

Cybertronians are far better drivers than humans. It’s more like walking to them. Besides, they can always transform and save the human, right? Or just dodge.

So for all the ‘bots with human friends, Optimus suggested that they try to minimize our driving time.

Which why my name was mud on base just now. It’s all very well and good for Sam, because Bumblebee is his first and only car, and they have something worked out with driving, but for Captain Lennox suddenly dealing with a very protective Ironhide? Hoo boy. And of course it’s my fault, because I was the twit who left my tablet lying around where an incurable fucking snoop can find it.

Because of course the jerk’s figured out how to get past the fingerprint scanner. No boundaries.

So I was pissed too. Not only because of the lack of personal boundaries, not only because Jazz was trying to babysit me, but because I too had a car I’d brought with me to grad school, and I preferred to drive myself, thanks. Meant I didn’t have to wait to go shopping. There’s also just the simple fact of, yeah, I love my research, I love the ‘bots, but I want a life outside of that, too. Oh, and also, I’d like to be able to go to a party without coordinating with Jazz. Ya know, little unreasonable things like that.

Oh, and I liked my car. His name was Blur, which for some reason made Jazz laugh hysterically when I told him, and he was a Honda Fit, a nice little car that resembled nothing more than a fat, happy, blue tadpole. He could haul like a pickup truck if I needed to, and I’d gone camping in him repeatedly, and he got 40 mpg. Jazz was wonderful, but he had nowhere to put the fucking groceries. Let alone camping supplies. Or the dog crate.

Jazz had looked up the safety specs on Blur when he’d first realized I drove that thing. Blur’s tadpole-ness was not, Jazz felt, an endearing quality. Especially when the info on the 2013 Honda Fit came back, saying it scored top points in collisions from all directions save the front, which it tanked on. Probably because the snub-nosed design meant that in a front-end collision, the driver would receive a lapful of engine.

“Okay,” I’d said, “then I won’t run into anything with the front of the car.”

Jazz had made a gesture like a human tearing their hair, both hands on his sensory horns, and gone, “Arrrgh!”

Honestly, it wasn’t the best retort, I’ll admit that. But it lost me the argument. Jazz was taking me grocery shopping. Blur sat sadly in the driveway, and got sat on by the neighborhood cats.

But I had one final volley in my arsenal.

You see, grocery shopping is fun. I get to putter around and think about eating tasty things. I get to stare at all sorts of tasty things, and decide what I’ll get and what I’ll do with them, and it’s just plain nice.

Translation: I can and will spend an hour per grocery store, if I think I can get away with it.

Which brings us back to the bok-choi and my angrily bee-deeping cell phone.

I pondered the bok-choi, then decided to go to the international market. Now it was apple time. This store had an entire stand dedicated to apples, some of which I could only find in the farmers market back home. I decided to rub it in a little more. I pulled out the phone and took a picture, then texted it to Jazz. Look at all the apples, I said. Deciding on one variety this week’s going to be hard! Pink Lady is one of my favorite, but there’s definitely a new variety here I haven’t heard of…

You are EVIL, the response read.

Hey, I’m not even at TJ’s yet, I sent. We’ll hit that next.

ARRGH.

I snickered, and went back to the apples.

Bee-deep.

I looked at the phone, expecting more robot bitchery, and instead saw, Do not come out the front of the store.

“The fuck?” I said aloud, and then I heard it.

The crash.

The distinctive sound of a large robot fist hitting a large robot face. Or other body part. A sort of clanging thump. And then a screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech of metal on asphalt.

“Oh,” I said. Well, so much for the shopping. Apparently I was evacuating a grocery store today, if the manager didn’t get their act together right quick.

A tumultuous half hour later, involving a lot of speaking calmly in a loud voice and directing people out the back of the store and to a safe distance, and free groceries, I sat in the parking lot next to Jazz, who was picking bits of metal out of his fists and looking sheepish.

“Well,” he said.

“Well,” I said.

“I didn’t realize Barricade was around. He’s using some sort of cloaking technology we’re unfamiliar with,” said Jazz, looking, if possible, even more sheepish. “It wasn’t planned. I think he picked up my signature and took the opportunity.”

I looked around the parking lot. Jazz and Barricade had been hurling shopping carts for a bit there. There was one in a tree, looking oddly festive, surrounded by bright yellow palo verde blossoms. “I see,” I said.

“Clean up should be here soon.” Jazz stood, and winced as he did. Barricade had scratched his leg pretty good, though he assured me it was fine. Ratchet was on his way anyhow, because he couldn’t trust any of the Autobots to accurately report damage, slaggit. “Um.”

Pause.

“Maybe,” said Jazz, in the distinct tones of someone conceding a point they really, really didn’t want to concede, “maybe you are safer doing the shopping in that little blue death trap.”

I grinned. That was about as good as I was going to get.