#this is Valid Tourist Hate

[confinesofmy]

accidentally got drunk and came out toooo maybe 7 people? because my cousins were asking if i was gonna fuck a person at the party and someone said they heard i was a queer and i said nah i'm not really into any of that and my northern cousin asked if i was asexual and i said "how do you know that word?" and it all escalated from there 💀💀💀

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

too many teens whining for validation, this blog needs more weird and stupid so...

AITA for kidnapping my friend and trapping her in the cheesebarn?

Hear me out:

The story starts about a week before my (20 at the time ftm) 21st birthday. If you live in the US you know this isnt just some lame 7th birthday or 36th birthday, this is one of the big boy birthdays, the special ones. Its when you can legal buy alcohol and are therefore truly an adult in the eyes of the law.

Naturally my friends (20s) wanted to do something Big for our 21sts. So they asked me what i wanted to do and i said i didnt really care as long as I got a road trip somewhere with friends.

Everyone thought it was a fun idea but it was a little short notice for everyone to get time off from work, but my other friend we will call C also had her 21st exactly a month after mine to the day, and the two of us agreed to share our 21sts and not do much of anything on my actual birthday. This is important, bc it was a SHARED birthday road trip.

I agree to let C pick the destination and I provide the car. We didnt have much of a plan as we were going to meet up with C's old roommate who lives in the city we picked to show us a good time.

It was 5 of us total and about a 7 hour drive altogether there with not a whole lot on the way there. We get to the city she picked and meet the roommate and honestly the rest of this part is just standard 21st birthday shenanigans. Its when we start the drive home things really start.

Remember its a long drive with not much to see? Well that was a lie. On our way back we see it, the Real "Happiest Place on Earth" as far as places with a mouse for a mascot go:

Grandpa's.

Fuckin'.

Cheesebarn.

Obviously me and the other people on the trip want to stop and see the magic, but unfucking fortunately C happens to be the only Basic White Girl ™️ in the entire world who hates cheese and isnt even lactose intolerant. This girl is notorious for making "petty" and "I hate Cheese" her entire personality. She would constantly make faces and gagging noises and talk about how gross and nasty cheese is if you so much as eat a grilt cheese near her.

Clearly she made it known that she wasnt on board with it. "NO! FUCK YOU ALL IM NOT GOING TO A PLACE CALLED A CHEESEBARN ON MY BIRTHDAY!!" were her exact words.

But i remembered i was driving, it was my car, and it was supposed to be my birthday too. So I put it to a vote. "Raise your hand if you wanna go to Grandpa's Cheesebarn!"

All hands raise but one. With C out voted we head to the cheesebarn.

Guys. This place is amazing. Its obviously making cheese its main draw, but yhere's so much more, its every shitty midwest tourist trap rolled into one glorious place. There's even a chocolate shop. We even got C's roommate to ditch work and come meet us bc shr heard "Grandpa's Cheesebarn" and knew she had to drop everything.

All in all a good visit, C even seemed like she had fun once we got there (she sure spent $300 on candies and dip mixes anyway). We go home. Things seem fine.

Then C drops off the face of the earth.

She wont respond to our calls or texts and at first we thought maybe she was giing through a rough patch or something and try to just keep reaching out but give her space. But then we find out that not only is she still hanging our with our other friends who couldnt make the trip with us. So clearly she's just pissed at us about something.

Finally one day a few months later i catch her at her job and just tell her "I dont care if you hate us, we'll never speak to you again if you dont want us to, but what the hell did we do to you??"

And she just looked me over and says "Well. You kidnapped me."

lolwut

And she yells (bc this girl loves yelling at people) "YOU KIDNAPPED ME AND TRAPPED ME AT A CHEESEBARN ON. MY. BIRTHDAY!!!!!"

And i just said "Well it was my birthday too," and havent spoken to her since. Its been over a decade and "No ragrets" as we said back in the day, but uts baffled me for years that that was her reaction. "Im just over you guys" i can understand, and its not like she was shy about telling people she hates them and their out of her life ever before. And from what i ended up hearing from our other friends she kept talking with it really was about the cheesebarn and how we "ruined her birthday".

No but srsly AITA??? For making her go to a cheesebarn???

What are these acronyms?

[vixialuvs]

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ TXT HYUNG LINE REACTION TO WHEN YOU ARE INSECURE ABOUT BEING HISPANIC ! ⋄ 𓍯

୨୧ genre. angst w/comfort

୨୧ cw. insecurities, crying, cuddles, racism

୨୧ a/n. should i do a maknae line ver. of this?

✶ YEONJUN !

﹒ yeonjun would likely respond with understanding and reassurance. he might express empathy, acknowledging the validity of your feelings while gently reminding you that your heritage is an integral part of who you are and something to be proud of.

﹒ when he comes home one night to find you crying on the couch, picking at your skin, he immediately knows what’s up. he’d bring you into his arms, littering kisses across your skin, murmuring things like “you’re so perfect baby” and “i love everything about you and your heritage, don’t hate yourself.”

﹒when he finds out you’re crying about your skin because someone was being extremely racist to you at work, his grip tightens. he’s pissed now, not at you but at the idiot who had the nerve to say that about you. for the rest of the night, he worships your skin.

✶ SOOBIN !

﹒ he would def react with a gentle and caring demeanor. he would express understanding of your insecurities about your hair, taking note of the societal pressures and standards that can contribute to such feelings. he would offer words of reassurance, emphasizing the uniqueness and beauty of your curly hair.

﹒it’s another day of straightening your hair, since you despise your natural hair so much, all you do is take a flat iron to it. you know it hurts soobin, but you can’t help but hate the way it frizzes up and you can never get it to look the way curly hair looks on instagram. as you pick up the straightener to straighten the first strands, he pulls it away gently.

﹒“sweetheart, your natural hair is beautiful. i want you to embrace it. i can even help you style it, if you like?” he would whisper, looming over your figure in a non threatening way, before moving to sit beside you at your vanity. he would kiss your cheek and murmur all sorts of things about how much he loves your hair and how enamoring it is, as he helps you finger coil each and every one of your soaking wet strands.

✶ BEOMGYU !

﹒tell me this man is not in love with curly haired latinas. you can’t. that’s why he loves you so much, he thinks your utterly perfect in his eyes, and loves learning about your culture and what makes you you.

﹒he is constantly praising you about your hair and your skin, knowing how you can get insecure. he refuses to play with your hair when you style it natural because he doesn’t want to mess up all the hard work you put into it.

﹒when, one day, the odd looks of everyone in korea gets to you, the way everyone wants to take a picture with you like you’re a tourist or a statue, you break down in his arms as soon as you get home, your soft cries filling the apartment as he holds you. he rubs the nape of your neck comfortingly, kissing your cheeks and nose as he whispers words of endearment.

@vixialuvs ‘24. reblogs/likes appreciated!

[perfectsunlight]

(𝟏𝟑) - 𝐲𝐮𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞

𝗮𝗲𝗿𝗶 𝘂𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗴𝗮 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿, 𝗵𝘂𝗵 𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗷𝗶𝗻 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

part of the series: best friends

warnings: mentions of sexual relationships

word count: 2,340

after your conversation with your sister, you went back to the dorms feeling utterly worse than before. with the newfound knowledge of aeri asking seulgi for permission to take you out, it only made you feel even worse for your decision to continue sleeping with the le sserafim member.

it wasn’t like you were trying to hurt giselle, that couldn’t be further from the truth, but rather you were simply just protecting yourself. it was selfish, but how could you have known any better at the time?

“wonyoung,” you whispered as you slowly crept back into your room. the taller girl’s eyes glanced to look up at you. “when’s our next scheduled performance?”

your roommate hummed to herself before pulling her phone out to check the group calendar. “it says here we have a performance next week. why?” she inquired with furrowed brows.

truth be told, you had been thinking of numerous ways to possibly make it up to aeri ever since that fateful night. on top of that, her radio silence was not exactly a good sign either. you and your best friend had gotten into arguments before, as any normal friendship would have, but it was more than just two best friends arguing over something.

this was between two people who were no longer just best friends, but no more than that either.

with both your feelings and the rapper’s in mind, you had decided the best way to make it up to her was to show her just how much you felt the same way for her. you wanted to show her that, despite how her sleeping with yunjin may look, your heart only wanted her.

“i think i’m going to take a week off after the performance.” you poked the inside of your cheek before continuing. “i want to take aeri on a vacation, with just the two of us.” 

a small smile formed on your lips as you began to imagine all the fun things you two could do. maybe you could go to the beach and eat fresh mangos every morning together. perhaps you could take a trip to japan and visit her hometown, you knew she had been dying to go home for a while now. or maybe you two could just take a trip to LA or new york, that way you could just enjoy being tourists without having to worry about any other schedules.

“what if she says no?” wonyoung asked as your smile disappeared and a frown immediately formed. as much as you hated to admit it, but the taller girl had a decently valid point. aeri hadn’t even spoken to you for the past two weeks, and yet here you were, daydreaming about a perfect vacation with her.

“im sorry, y/n/n, but i’m just trying to make sure you know that’s still a pretty valid concern right now. she hasn’t talked to you at all.” she reasoned as she stood from her bed to give you a hug.

you gratefully accepted the comforting embrace from your friend. aside from yunjin, wonyoung had been a witness to all of the aeri situation from the very start. even though wonyoung was your friend, she was not ever afraid to give you a reality check here and there. 

truth be told, you needed it more now than ever before. wonyoung was always good at helping you see things for what they were, and not what you wanted to see them for.

“i know, thank you though. i’ll keep that in mind.” 

the next day you and your members began rehearsing some of your choreography for the upcoming performance. hours upon hours of repetitive motion and movement made your body ache in ways you had never felt before, but it was all a perfectly good distraction from the subliminal ache in your heart.

well, it would have been a good distraction had it done so, but much to your dismay, it did the opposite.

you kept spacing out every few moments, letting your mind continue brainstorming ideas as to how you were going to get giselle to speak with you. 

from showing up to her dorm to just asking her to meet you somewhere, you had thought of it all. many ideas traveling through your mind, each of them trying to be seemingly better than the last, but much to your dismay, none of them seemed to be good enough.

“yah! kang y/n! are you listening?”

yujin’s voice brought you out of your thoughts, making you realize that your water break had ended and the rest of the girls were already into position waiting for you. 

you scrambled to stand up, ditching the water bottle in the process as you hurried into your designated center position. muttering a few apologies, you moved your arms above your head and waited for the music to start.

fortunately, you all had decided to call it a day after running the last chorus a few more times. you all were confident in your abilities and were fairly certain that with only one more full run down, you would be 100% ready for your performance next week.

you were excited to go home and lay in your bed. who would have thought that spending your nights with yunjin would eventually make you miss your own bed. as you slung your bag over your shoulder, you stood and waited for your roommate before you started walking together back to the dorm.

“hey, everything okay?” wonyoung genuinely asked, being the first person to notice your lack of energy today. everyone has bad days, but for you to be so unfocused in just a simple choreography rehearsal? that practically never happened.  

looking over at her, you gave her a small smile. “yeah, i’m just thinking a lot more than lately.” 

your roommate slung an arm around your shoulder as the both of you walked down the hallway together. even though you know wonyoung had no idea how it truly felt to be in your shoes, you always felt grateful to have her by your side throughout all of this mess.

“don’t worry so much, everything will all work out.”

you opened your mouth to thank her for the advice, but a hand grabbed your other shoulder, making you turn around immediately.

you were met with stern eyes and raised brows that only meant nothing good. “yes, unnie?” you asked timidly, not liking the serious demeanor of your leader being directed towards you.

“let’s talk.” yujin stated, leaving no room for disagreement from either you or wonyoung. the younger girl let you go immediately, giving you a small wave before she left down the hall to catch up with the rest of the group.

your fingers twitched at your side, but you refused to start fidgeting since you knew yujin didn’t like it when people did that when she spoke to them. the older girl’s arms folded against her chest, causing you to immediately get more nervous. the last thing you wanted to do was have your leader upset with you.

“i’m sorry for being so out of it today, unnie. it won’t happen again, i promise.” you hurriedly got out, wanting to make sure you apologized to her before she got the chance to reprimand you for your mistakes. 

yujin’s gaze never wavered from your face, and truth be told, it made you a little more nervous. “what’s gotten into you?” she asked cooly, almost nonchalantly, her tone being the complete opposite of her current serious demeanor. 

“i just didn’t get enough sleep last night, that’s all.” you replied, earning a breathy chuckle from your leader. “and why is that?” yujin pressed, raising an eyebrow at you.

your shoulders immediately sagged, feeling foolish for thinking that you could keep your little secret away from your leader for any longer. you had to tell her everything, especially since everything was starting to affect your professional life as well.

“im just having,” you paused to think of the right word. “relationship issues? people problems?” you continued, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand before sighing. this was already a complicated situation, and even though you explained it to your sister just the day before, it felt entirely different trying to explain it to your leader.

“is it with aeri or yunjin?”

your jaw dropped and your eyes felt like they were going to explode out of their sockets. in a state of complete disbelief, you could only open and close your mouth in an attempt to come up with an answer. 

“what?” she chuckled lightly, the ghost of a smile forming on her lips as she spoke. “you really thought i didn’t notice where you went the night of the party?”

a faint blush appeared on your cheeks at just the mere thought of your leader knowing fully what happened between you and the le sserafim member that night. yujin took notice of your evident embarrassment. “it’s okay y/n, you don’t need to be embarrassed.” she shot you a small grin. 

“also, how do you know about everything with aeri?” you questioned, truly astonished that your leader knew about that other factor in this mess. yujin scoffed, “you’re not exactly quiet when you sneak back into the house. i also notice you limping after you see aeri, so it wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

the red on your cheeks only intensified, “unnie you’re like my boss! you’re not supposed to be knowing these things about my life!” you tried to reason.

yujin simply placed a hand around your shoulder, recalling a promise she made years ago to your older sister once you joined starship entertainment.

“take care of her, yujin. you’ll see her more than i will. please make sure you’re there for her since i can’t be.”

“i’m not your boss, stupid. think of me as just another older sister. now,” she released your shoulder and motioned for you to follow her towards the elevator. “you can tell me everything over dinner.”

the two of you eventually made your way to a local restaurant only a few blocks from the dorms. since it was a bit late, there weren’t a lot of people there, meaning the both of you could enjoy your meal without any interruptions.

you explained everything to yujin, watching as she listening intently to every word you spoke. your brief history recap eventually turned into a venting session once the two of you started drinking a little. 

“girls are confusing.” you groaned before taking another sip of your soju. yujin only laughed at the face you made, pointing out how stupid you looked.

“honestly y/n, i think you should just try one last time to talk to her.” she picked up some rice before shoving it in her mouth and swallowing. “if that doesn’t work, then you should just let her go.”

you rested your chin on your palm, groaning in annoyance. it wasn’t that it was a bad idea, but rather it was frustrating for you to hear out loud. you didn’t want to give up on aeri, especially not with everything being as complicated as it was. 

yujin could only smile at your state of aggravation, admiring how much you looked like your sister. seulgi was a good friend of hers, and when she was named as the leader of IVE, your sister had taken her out to dinner to have a talk with her. it was hard for her to leave you in the hands of someone else, permanently, but yujin knew that seulgi trusted her.

which was why she felt responsible for taking care of you in moments like these, where you needed your sister, or someone like her, to guide you in the right direction.

“you sound like seulgi, unnie.” you huffed before shooting her a playful glare. yujin only rolled her eyes and took another bite of her rice. “well, your sister is right.”

yujin pointed her chopsticks at you before continuing speaking. “you should call aeri, right now, and see if she answers. if she doesn’t, then i want to watch you delete her number.” 

your jaw dropped, but before you could argue against it, yujin added another quick comment. “that’s a leader's order, too.”

“yah! you can’t do that, unnie!” you groaned before hitting your head on the table. “this isn’t fair.” 

yujin rolled her eyes at your dramatic antics, knowing fully well that you knew she was right. she also knew you probably didn’t want to hear the hard truth, but she would gladly make sure someone told you straight up. 

“fine.” you grumbled and reached into your pocket to pull out your phone, but as you pulled it in front of you, you noticed the numerous texts from yunjin in your notifications.

from: jen :) y/n are u up? sent: 8:59 pm

from: jen :) im panicking rn pls answer sent: 9:12 pm

from: jen :) y/n pls its an emergency sent: 9:30 pm

from: jen :) call me ASAP sent: 9:47 pm

“hold on, unnie.” you murmured before standing up and walking towards the restaurant bathroom. you opened the door to the single restroom and shut it behind you before you called the le sserafim member. you were worried, whenever yunjin wanted to have sex, it consisted of lots of messages too. however, the text about her panicking is what caused you to be worried.

the dial tones rang for only a few beats before yunjin answered. from the other line, you could hear a lot of voices, and even what sounded like the sounds of sobs coming from someone.

“jen? what’s going on?” you asked, worry evident in your tone.

“y/n, it’s about chaewon.” 

your heart dropped at the mention of the other group’s leader. you could hear yunjin moving to another room since the commotion suddenly became muffled.

“what happened?” you heard yunjin inhale a shaky breath before finally answering you. 

“she might be pregnant.”

-

a/n: i warned you all...

[sturniolocoded]

I Hate Boston - 🧡 Chris Sturniolo

The memories cascade like falling leaves in autumn, each one tinged with a bittersweet hue, as if they were painted by a heart torn between love and resentment. Y/n sits alone in her dimly lit apartment, her fingers strumming the strings of her guitar, her voice soft yet laden with emotion as she pours her heart into the lyrics she's penning.

"I was just a tourist," she sings softly, her voice trembling with raw vulnerability. "You got to be a big hometown hero."

She pauses, memories of Chris flooding her mind like a relentless tide. Chris, with his brown hair and piercing blue eyes, the YouTuber whose smile could light up a room. The boy from Boston who swept her off her feet with promises of adventure and love.

But promises are fragile things, easily broken.

"Made you feel important," she continues, her voice growing stronger with each word. "Still stuck in your high-school yearbook."

Y/n remembers the way Chris would reminisce about his glory days, how he seemed trapped in a perpetual cycle of longing for the past instead of embracing the present. She was just a footnote in his story, a passing fancy to be discarded when the novelty wore off.

"Why'd we have to cover so much ground?" she sings, the ache in her voice palpable. "You showed me around."

Boston, once a city filled with promise and excitement, now holds painful memories for Y/n. Everywhere she turns, she sees traces of Chris, reminders of a love that was never meant to last.

"As far as I'm concerned, they should just burn the whole city down," she sings, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and sorrow.

Y/n's fingers falter on the strings of her guitar, tears blurring her vision as she struggles to continue. The pain of their breakup is still fresh, a wound that refuses to heal.

"How'd you make me hate Boston?" she sings, her voice breaking on the final note. "It's not its fault that you don't love me."

The words hang in the air like a heavy weight, the truth of them echoing in the hollow chambers of her heart. Boston was just a backdrop to their love story, innocent yet tainted by the ghosts of their past.

"Had its charm, but it lost it," she continues, her voice growing stronger with each word. "It's not its fault, just a casualty."

Y/n's fingers find their rhythm again, the melody a soothing balm to her wounded soul. Through her music, she finds solace, a way to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her.

"Mm, how'd you make me hate Boston?" she sings, her voice tinged with sadness. "The whole thing is haunted."

Haunted by memories of a love that was never meant to last, haunted by the ghost of Chris and the promises he couldn't keep.

"How do you sleep?" she sings, her voice trembling with anger. "Oh, when you held me hostage."

Y/n remembers the suffocating weight of Chris's expectations, how she felt like she was drowning in his need for validation. Their love was never equal, always lopsided, with Y/n giving more than she ever received.

"You must be exhausted," she continues, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Don't you miss me?"

But the question hangs in the air unanswered, lost in the silence of the empty room. Chris is gone, a casualty of their love, leaving Y/n to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart.

"And casual's the way you chose to leave," she sings, her voice soft yet defiant. "And you're all over every single street."

Chris may be gone, but his presence lingers like a shadow, haunting every corner of the city they once called home. But Y/n refuses to be defined by their failed love story, determined to forge a new path for herself, one free from the ghosts of the past.

As the final notes of her song fade into the night, Y/n sits alone in her apartment, the echoes of her music mingling with the whispered memories of a love that was never meant to last. But amidst the pain and heartache, there is a glimmer of hope, a promise of a future yet unwritten, waiting to be discovered. And as Y/n looks to the horizon, she knows that no matter where life may take her, she will always carry the music of her heart within her, a testament to the power of love, loss, and the strength to rise again.

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Hi there, first off I'm really sorry for deleting the comment! While I wish I could keep it up the private messages were too much. Sadly I don't think I can report whoever it was. Reddit has this weird thing where if you pay for it, you can privately send some messages without any username or something to be shown. So yeah some random person got really upset at the idea of PJO being in Greece and decided to pay money towards Reddit to let me know.

As for the xenophobic things that were said about Greeks. I have to rely off the top of my head since I deleted them pretty quick. It was a bunch of "nobody cares about you Greeks, the country's a shithole that has to rely on tourists, you can't even claim to own the mythology because you were a bunch of colonizers who took other POC myths and made them your own" stuff.

Barely nothing about why they hated the idea of having the series in Greece. I think it was just some xenophobic ass who pretends to be progressive. But man I did not expect the subreddit to hate the idea of a Greece setting so much. By the time I deleted the comment it was at -20 downvotes.

-🌟Anon

I planned on replying sooner but chronic illness is a bitch. I am outraged that people feel comfortable being such assholes for fucking nothing, and they have completely false arguments on top of that.

I am sorry that it was such an unpleasant experience, and I hope you are feeling better now. Those malakes should go fuck themselves, plain and clear. They are such stupid and incompetent bullies that they'll fart your dick and balls (Greek expression for "they don't have the guts to do shit to you"). They are cowards and their "progressiveness" is no more than a shitty excuse to make everything about them and bully people in the name of "justice". They probably got their friends to downvote the comment and did a small smear campaign. Cause I find it hard to believe that a whole subreddit actually hates Greece.

I am all for recognizing when Greeks have done and do something bad/wrong but the statement "you can't even claim to own the mythology because you were a bunch of colonizers who took other POC myths and made them your own" is just factually wrong in so many levels. Even the smidge of truth in that statement is so twisted that I cannot give them right. So, they're spreading misinformation on top of everything.

You are in charge of your actions and feelings, so if you feel the comment is best deleted, then that's okay. My humble suggestion - in general - is to not give these fuckers an inch. I had my fair share of them here, for years. When they realize their cyberbullying doesn't work anymore because people don't get intimidated, they just whine to their equally fanatic friends. The only power they have is whining online, and when people back down, they get encouraged and do the same thing to more people.

Unless you feel your safety is threatened, or you feel too unwell to engage (all valid!), then ignore them and just leave your opinions online where people will inevitably see them. Do it once, do it twice, and you'll see that nothing more than unpleasant messages (which you will just delete and block) will happen. Your comment was civil and completely harmless. You are on the right here.

Even if I agreed with their opinion, their approach of behaving like violent crybabies is simply inexcusable. Tolerance has its limits. Their behavior should not be tolerated, because it leads to the opposite of tolerance. (It's a famous paradox) The only thing that stops them from joining a nazi party is their life circumstances.

P.S. A friend of mine wants to comment on the subreddit with your (or a similar) message. Would you send me the link of the post with the Hot Takes so they can do that? (She's feeling a lil' silly - and no, it's not me :p)

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

Whistle Down the Wind, Chapter Seven

Word Count: 3234

TW:  Pining, unrequited love, angst.

AN:  Part of a series.  The series masterlist here.

Sonny dragged himself home to his empty apartment, and for the first time in a long while, he got drunk.  He worked his way through the remainder of a six-pack he had, and when that was gone, he helped himself to a few of Nicole’s alcoholic seltzer waters.  They were disgusting, but they did the trick.  Then he laid on the couch, one foot planted on the floor to stop the room from spinning.  He tried to think.

You had raised valid points, he admitted.  He did date traditionally beautiful women. He started to take umbrage to your claim that they were mean or boring, but when he thought about that – maybe you had a point there too. 

The middle school teaching aide you had mentioned?  She cheated on Sonny and likely had never been faithful at all.  The hedge fund manager absolutely hated children and had been offended when Sonny had casually mentioned that he was looking forward to fatherhood one day.  The girl he met at Fordham only had one passion – reality television – and that relationship fizzled when he got tired of trying to keep the plotlines of the various shows straight.  And now there was Nicole.

She was sweet sometimes.  That had been true, but your comment was also true.  What kind of girlfriend made her guy feel bad about his looks?  If the genders were swapped, would he be so blasé about the way she treated him?  If Tommy treated Bella that way, wouldn’t he beat the shit out of him?

He had a lot to consider, but the alcohol obliterated the final few functional brain cells and he passed out.

He woke up to Nicole coming into the apartment.  She had caught an earlier flight because she missed him, she said.  She took a note of the empty beer bottles and seltzer cans but didn’t say anything.  Instead, she made her way to the kitchen and made him breakfast.

The next few weeks passed, and Sonny waited for the next blow up with Nicole, but it never came.  She even helped him get the apartment ready for his nieces’ visit.  For the past few years, Sonny took a long weekend with the Morino girls:  they lived in Connecticut, and Christmas in New York could be magical.  They came to visit their uncle and do all the cheesy tourist stuff – skating at Rockefeller Center, hot chocolate at the Christmas Market, Radio City Music Hall.

Usually you joined him for that long weekend.  You would make the girls your patented gooey brownies and play board games with them and play little Christmas carols on your instruments.  This year, though, Nicole would be taking your place.  She seemed up to the task though.  She told him that she was looking forward to it. 

Maybe the sweetness in her would win out after all, he thought.

********

Sonny showing up on Thanksgiving evening completely ruined your comfortable high, and now you were too worked up to sleep.  You paced a bit and considered smoking a bit more, but you didn’t want to wake up still stoned.  You finally settled down in your workspace.  You opened up your songwriter software.

You wrote music for everyone you knew.  Everyone in your life – friends, family – had a theme song, a melody that flitted through your head when you were around them or thought about them.  Your bandmates, Alicia and Jen, each had their own themes.  Alicia’s was heavy on woodwinds; a low and mellow bassoon overlaid with flutes and piccolos.  Jen’s was a booming brassy piece like a Sousa march.  Bella’s theme was pure ‘80’s pop rock:  keyboard interlude and electric guitar and drum machine.

Sonny’s piece was a complicated weaving of piano and strings, the two happily playing off of each other.  You saved it on your computer…and started writing the reprise.  You pulled out your cello, and then your violin, and recorded new string sections.  The same theme, but sadder.  More minor chords. 

By the time the sun started to rise, you had rewritten Sonny’s theme.  You saved it as a reprise, then closed your laptop. 

Then you moved on.  You started going through your stuff, determining what you would keep for your move – and what you would leave behind.

You met up with Bella a week later for lunch.  She was finally starting to show, and you felt a pang of regret that you’d miss so many milestones in her life.

When you told her, Bella made it perfectly clear that she felt the same way:  she spent the first few minutes chewing you out about the inferiority of the west coast, then segued into ranting about how her brother was an idiot and that you shouldn’t leave because of him.

“I’m not leaving because of Sonny,” you replied with a sigh.  “My life has felt on hold for so long, and I want a fresh start.  You’re married now with a kid on the way.  Sonny is going to be engaged soon.”  You shook your head at her.  “I want all of that, but I don’t feel like I’ll get it here.”

“You’re not gonna find it in Los Angeles,” she snapped.  “You’ll be sitting in traffic too much to find a nice guy.”

“Well, I’m not gonna find it here,” you snapped back.  “Not when your damned brother acts like he’s not interested but then tries to kiss me when I say I’m leaving.”

The scowl on Bella’s face disappeared.  “He tried to kiss you?” 

You nodded.  “I told him that I was leaving New York, and he leaned in to kiss me.”  You scoffed.  “He’s just upset that his emotional crutch is leaving.”

Your friend looked thoughtful for a moment.  “Maybe he has feelings for you after all.”

“No.”  You pushed your plate aside, your lunch only half eaten.  Your appetite had vanished altogether. 

“But maybe,” Bella insisted.  She leaned forward, one hand placed across her growing stomach.  “He looked so sad at Thanksgiving when he realized you weren’t coming.  And he kept watching you at my reception.”  Her forehead crinkled in thought. 

“No,” you repeated.  “Nope.”

“Maybe yes though.”  Bella was gazing at some spot over your shoulder, and you could tell that she was deep in thought.  “Sonny never visited me at college until you became my roommate sophomore year.  And he was the one who suggested you could stay with us over the summer between semesters….”

“Bella, stop it,” you cut in.  “I’m not his type.”

“You don’t know that,” she replied.  “You know, he never was a cinephile before he met you – then he was suddenly into artsy movies.  That became your thing together.  Then you started hanging out together for other things…”

“Because Tommy was out of prison then, and the two of you paired off.”

“You had your movie nights, your dinners together.  You had those Christmas weekends with Theresa’s girls.”

You sighed.  “Key word being ‘had.’  Past tense, Bella.  I’m looking to the future now.”

********

The long weekend started poorly.  Theresa and her husband dropped the girls off on Thursday evening, and then they headed to LaGuardia for their own little couple’s retreat.  Their marriage was struggling, and they were taking advantage of some time away from the kids to rekindle the proverbial spark.

About a minute after their parents drove away, though, the girls started to act out.  Mia was openly hostile to Nicole, only giving monosyllabic answers to her questions.  Emma asked where you were at least three times after Sonny explained you weren’t coming.  And Sophia kept asking where the brownies were.

“No brownies here,” Nicole declared.  She reached out and poked Sophia in her round child’s belly.  “Brownies are nothing but carbs and sugar and fat.”

Sonny cleared his throat.  “We’ll order some dessert after dinner,” he promised. 

“But what are we even going to do today?” Emma whined.  “I’m bored.”

“Well, you know we usually stay in the first evening,” Sonny reminded her.  “We play games and make dinner…”

“What’s for dinner?” Sophia broke in.  Her eyes lit up at the possibilities.  “Nonna’s chicken parm?”

Nicole laughed lightly.  “I’m making dinner tonight,” she told the girls.  “Baked chicken and roasted butternut squash.  It’s paleo.”

Mia scrunched her nose at this, and Emma asked, “what’s paleo?”

It went downhill from there.

-----

It was Friday night, and everyone was miserable.  Mia spent so much time on her phone that she just kept it plugged in constantly.  Emma and Sophia were tired from skating at Rockefeller Center, and they were cranky because they had wanted hot chocolate after skating, but Nicole had made a comment about calories, so they decided against it. 

Then halfway home, Emma changed her mind and cried because it turned out she really did want the hot chocolate.  But then it was too late, and Emma wailed because apparently there was only one place in the entire city that had hot chocolate and the mix in Sonny’s apartment would never compare.

Then Nicole snapped at her.  She told her that crying was for babies, and Sophia got in on the act, calling Emma a baby until she cried so hard that she was gagging and choking on her own ramped up emotions.

Then Emma had hauled off and smacked Sophia hard enough to make her cry, and Nicole fled to the bathroom.  Sonny found her there half an hour later, perched on the edge of the tub and scrolling through her phone.

Then Liv called with an emergency – Amanda was home with Jesse, who was sick – so Sonny had to go in.  He got changed quickly and told Nicole to hold down the fort while he was out.  She only glared at him as he pulled on his coat and left.

********

You were knee deep in your vinyl collection, trying to figure out what to keep and what to take to L.A.  The problem was that even after three passes through the collection, you only had five albums you were willing to part with.  And two of those were duplicates of ones you were keeping.

Your phone chirped from somewhere behind you, and you groped blindly for it until you had it.  It was Bella’s niece, Mia.  You sighed and answered.

“Hi, Mia,” you said, but the teenager was already talking.  “Whoa, slow down,” you told her.

You got her calmed down enough to explain the situation.  The girls were in the city for the annual Christmas holiday trip.  Uncle Sonny got called out to work, and Nicole was left in charge.  But then Nicole left to go out for a drink with friends and left Mia in charge, which was fine at first.  But then it got later and no one was there and there were weird noises coming from the hallway and Emma swore that she saw a face looking in the window even though Sonny was on the eighth floor of his building.

“Okay, okay,” you replied.  “Let me call Sonny…” but Mia cut you off.

“Uncle Sonny isn’t picking up his phone,” she said.  You could hear how shaky her voice was and realized that despite her teenaged bravado, she was probably scared too.  The girls lived in a cozy suburb in Connecticut, so the city was obviously much more than they were used to.  “And neither is Aunt Bella.  And I don’t want to call mom and dad…”

“Okay,” you repeated.  You stood up from your place on the floor and made your way into the bedroom.  “Stay inside, and I’ll be there in ten minutes.  I’ll call you when I’m there.”  You hung up and changed out of your pajamas into a pair of jeans and a band t-shirt.  You grabbed your coat from the entryway and left your apartment. 

Sonny’s place was only a few blocks away, and even with the icy sidewalks, you made good time.  You dialed Mia when you were outside, and you walked her through how to ring you in.  When you reached Sonny’s door, you knocked lightly and listened as Mia undid all the locks.  She swung the door open, and both Sophia and Emma flew out and hugged you fiercely.

********

It was one in the morning when Sonny got home.  The case was a sexual assault on the subway, and he had spent hours lining up witness statements and talking with transit police.  He was exhausted when he slid his key in the lock, but at least everyone would be asleep.  He could have a beer on the couch and unwind.

The apartment was quiet, but when he made his way to his kitchen, he noticed that someone was asleep on the couch.  He looked closer, and in the weak light he saw you.  He felt his heart lurch at the sight of you, and for a moment, he didn’t even question why you were there.

You were curled up on your side with one of Sonny’s couch pillows underneath your head.  Your hands were drawn up by your head, and he could just make out one of them twitching.  It made him smile – how many times have you fallen asleep at his place, and how many times has he watched you play music in your sleep? 

He set down his coat and made his way over to perch on the edge of his coffee table, just watching you.  Your hair was loose, and your mouth was parted slightly as you breathed, slow and steady.  He watched your twitching hand and wondered what you were playing in your dreams.  Your cello, most likely.  You could play just about any instrument, but your cello was your favorite. 

He reached out and took your hand very carefully in his.  He didn’t want to wake you, and for a moment, he didn’t.  He felt your hand squeeze his, and he felt tears spring up in his eyes.  He couldn’t imagine his life without you in it. 

Your hand spasmed in his again, and he watched you wake up.  Your eyes opened slowly, and he watched as you looked at him, realization washing over you.

“Hi,” you said groggily.  You pulled your hand from his and sat up, running a hand over your hair and then rubbing your eyes.  “What time is it?”

“A little after one,” he replied.  “What are you doing here?”

You tugged your hands through your hair, finger-combing it and then pulled an elastic off of your wrist to put it up into a messy ponytail.  You looked him square in the eyes and gave him a bitter laugh.

“Interesting story,” you said.  “Your beautiful and ‘actually quite sweet’ girlfriend went out drinking with friends and left your nieces here.”  You stood up and stretched, and Sonny stood up too. 

“I saw that I missed calls from Mia,” he replied.  “She didn’t leave any messages though.”

“Yeah, well, they got a hold of me instead.”  You peered up at him.  “They were terrified, Sonny.  They aren’t used to the big city, you know.”

Sonny rubbed the back of his neck.  “I know.” 

You opened your mouth to say something else but thought better of it and snapped your jaw closed with an audible click.  Sonny felt exhausted and irritated. 

“Just say what you’re gonna say.”

You shook your head, and there was an awkward silence between you for a moment.  Then you gave that bitter laugh again.

“Why was Emma asking me if her Nonna’s cannoli are part of the paleo diet?  What kind of person tells little girls that they need to count calories, Sonny?  Who leaves little girls alone in an unfamiliar city?”  You looked up at him.  “People can’t help how they look, whether they’re born beautiful or talented or boring.  But being a dick to kids?  That’s a choice, Sonny.”  You turned and walked away, making your way to his entryway.  He followed you and watched as you pulled on your coat and slipped into your snow boots.

“Everyone has a choice.  You deserve better than this, Sonny,” you said sadly.  You nodded towards the guest bedroom.  “Your nieces deserve better too.”  You turned to leave, but Sonny reached out and took a hold of the hem of your coat, tugging you back.

“They missed their honorary auntie,” he said, not looking at you.  He focused on his hand on your coat, his long fingers holding fast on the heavy wool of your pea coat.  “I missed you too.”

Another awkward silence filled the room until it was pressing down on Sonny.  He felt like his chest was going to collapse under the pressure.  He felt like if he let you walk out that door, he’d never see you again.  He knew, from talking to Bella, that you were starting to pack and search for a place in L.A.  You reached down and tugged your coat out of his grasp.  He watched you reach for the doorknob, and so Sonny made a choice.

“Jailbait,” he blurted out.  You dropped your hand from his door and turned to face him, completely confused.

“That’s – that’s what my roommate used to call you,” he added.  “Remember Dave?”

You scrunched your face in thought and then nodded.  “You had that place in Brooklyn.”

Sonny nodded.  “We had just graduated, and you and Bella crashed with us a few times when you were in college.  When you had concerts in the city and stuff.”  You nodded at him, so he continued.

“Dave always called you ‘jailbait.’  He’d joke around with me that you were so much younger than me, and that you looked even younger than that.  It became a routine when he knew you were coming to visit.  ‘Sonny likes ‘em barely legal,’ all that.”  Sonny scrubbed his hands over his face, still not able to look you in the eye.

“It made me feel weird,” he admitted.  “You were this adorable kid the same age as my sister, and I liked you so much.  Dave figured it out and started calling you ‘jailbait,’ and it made me feel like a pervert.  And then I got to know you, and I liked you even more.  But I didn’t know what to do, and you were so supportive and nice, even when I was dating other women, that I thought, ‘at least she’s my friend.’  At least I had that.”  He looked up and saw you staring at him.  “But I don’t even have that anymore, do I?”

You started to answer, but there was a key in the lock at that moment, and Nicole pushed her way into the apartment.  Sonny could smell the alcohol wafting off of her, and he saw his girlfriend’s face as she took in the pair of you.

“What the f…” she started to slur, but you cut her off, catching the door before it slammed shut.

“Good luck with all this, Sonny,” you said, looking at him sadly.  Then you turned to face Nicole, who was glaring at you.

“And I hope you choke on a carb,” you told her before you slammed the door on them.

-----

Sonny broke up with Nicole that night, and then again in the morning, when she was sober and could remember it.  He tried calling and texting you a few times, but you didn’t respond.  He’d give it a few days.  Maybe he’d surprise you for Christmas.

[newsfrom-theworld]

Debunking/ roastin zionazis p1 ( of many I fear)

Lets start with this dude who asked this question to the genocide supporters: why they support the zionist entity?

Oh yeah sure: the zionist entity bombed Bethlehem on CHRISTMAS. And the Palestinian christian community is the ancient in the world soo die in delusion loser. He is also a Trump supporter so you understood the tipe.

Is better than I don't speak, I don't want my accaunt banned

Oh yeah.. and all the videos of '' Israeli'' tourists who arras local people who support Palestine, tell me about that. Also traslating from Hebrew is like reading the Mein Kampf. I don't envy Sinwar.

People hate '' Israelis'' because they are a bunch of psycos. I don't hate jews in any way don't worry

On Oct 7 I saw the zionist entity using the Hannibal directive againts the settlers..

What deamons live in this ''human's mind?

It took me one instant in Quds News Network and I found a very valid reason to loathe the entity: a baby torn in half by an airstrike.

I visited Auschwitz-Birkenau when I was 13 and I knew more things about that hell on earth than the guide and I read a thing like 20 books about Nazism so I'm pretty familiar. I believe in never again for ANYONE.

Support the palestinian resistance then

[team-frightfur]

Girag's design may be uncomfy racist trash but man is he kind of adorable.

I love the barely concealed implication that all the monster of the week bullshit is just a side gig to him as he tries out all the clubs in Yuma's school. Like he hit the open day and took every pamphlet with the giddy glee of a wealthy tourist in a local festival.

I fully believe that the reason he found the Numbers club in that one sports duel comedy ep (where Kotori gets brainwashed. For the THIRD TIME) was because they officiated it as a club and his club sensor Pinged.

I can also see how Alito is. Very gay. Still think Yudias is gayer tho.

Anyway, as funny and charming as it is, I am kinda disappointed in Zexal right now. Everyone on reddit screams that this is the best arc in all of Yugioh. "Zexal gets better after 70 episodes!" they say. Welp, I'm 12 episodes in and it's literally JUST monster of the week shenanigans. I think the plot drops soon because Mizael showed up, though. But also like, this is a big letdown.

They can't impress me with "The Galaxy Eyes Dragons are resonating and calling to each other!" Because I have seen it done BETTER!

Mizael showed up, like, yesterday. But they're tryna fabricate an entire rivalry btwn Kaito and Mizael on Zero Buildup because "Only one Galaxy Eyes User can exist". Like Kaito was Kaiba this whole time.

Kaito is not Kaiba. he has themes. He's a family man. He loves his bro. He feels guilty about his misdeeds but covers his guilt up in a sadistic face.

Mizael interacts with None of these themes. they're only linked because of resonating dragons.

How hard would it be to make Mizael buy the last caramel slice from the store and make Haruto cry. I'd buy them fighting over that.

Like, like let's talk Arc V, ok. In Arc V

Yugo doesn't hate Yuri because they both have Adjective Body Part Summoning Style Dragons, he hates Yuri because Yuri kidnapped Rin. Yuto hates him because he's Fusion. Yuya hates him because of the dad-killing and yandere stalking.

Yuto and Yuya resonate in the mid 30s episode wise. This is early enough to be valid.

Yuto is introduced in ep 7. Yuzu links him to Yuya immediately. There is a built-up connection between them (due to same face syndrome).

But the resonation in ep 30 isn't even the best analogue for Mizael vs Kaito. That would be episode 92. The one where they get all 4 dragons in the same subway station and start chanting Zarcisms.

I want you to imagine episode 92, but without Yuya, Yuto, Yugo or Yuri having ever met. I want you to imagine episode 92, but in an alternative universe where Yuto, Yuri, and Yugo were introduced THAT episode.

That is Mizael vs Kaito round 1 to me.

[wolfpants]

whisper

or

follow

Oh god, this has thrown up a dilemma - I definitely use the word 'whisper' too much 😂 Here's a little something from Everybody Hates a Tourist, my wireless 2023 entry:

“I’ve spent the past few months getting to know Malfoy,” he says quietly, poking at a fallen packet of sugar on the pristine white tablecloth. “And—” “And yet you still call him Malfoy,” Theo cuts in flatly. “Like you’re both fourteen.” “Valid point,” Harry whispers. He starts again. “I’ve spent the past few months getting to know Draco. And we’ve grown close to each other—” Theo laughs. Loud, essentially cutting Harry off again. He shakes his head, stares at Harry in disbelief. “Of course. I should have seen this coming! It’s all he ever wanted, isn’t it? And whatever Draco wants, he gets. The two of you…” Harry frowns, backpedalling, and— “No! No, no we’re not—we’re not…” His heart jumps into his throat.  It’s all he ever wanted. “We’re just friends.”

send me a word and I'll share an excerpt from a published or unpublished fic ✍🏻

[dargum]

001: First Impressions

PAIRING: hunter x OC

SYNOPSIS: where Zerith finds a strange boy in the forest while training and for some reason they keep meeting.

GENRE: slow burn, fluff, angst, crack

MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

Being the golden guard is not something simple, the job consumes me. Everyone needs my help or immediate presence everywhere. “Please me, and that way you will please the Titan, that is the priority of the golden guard”, “The Titan has big plans for you”, that’s what I constantly hear from Belos, those are the reasons that make me relevant, being an important part of the Titan’s plan. These are all the reasons why I always try to ace every task I am assigned, without any mistakes and always look for beating expectatives. I have to be useful. Even though i have all this responsibilities on me, being consumed by my job makes me not give my 100% to it, due to stress, so for work and only work related reasons, i find myself getting out of my room in my free hours to have time for relaxation, yes i may feel some guilt from it, but at the end of the day, it is an occasional -almost nonexistent- rest that helps me keep up the pace with my duties. For this very-important-for-my-duties-break I tend to go to “The Knee”.The cold weather and the snow offer a strange comfort, plus the silence that is only natural in a place like this helps even more with my relax duty.

Today the silence that tends to take over the place seems interrupted in a weird way, as I said; a place like this tends to not have tourists, and if there are they are never noisy, everybody knows that the Slither Beast lives here, fear is another of the reasons that keeps the Knee alone and peaceful. So the question here is, why does it sound like someone is trying to commit hate crimes against a tree?

I approach with caution towards the moving tree and now some screens come into the battle, against a tree? like seriously? That tree must be a criminal.

I have to make sure to keep a considerable distance to not get noticed by the tree slaughter, and get a good view of who it is. Against any prediction of mine, the tree fighter is actually a young lady, with a weird way of spelling, is definitely a completely different way of how I was trained to do. For her apparent age, she seems to be skilled.

Silence comebacks at my brain where i notice that my surrounding went back to it as well

And suddenly I feel my body strangely cold.

— Spying on people is pretty weird if you ask me — I try to look behind me, where the voice comes from, but I quickly realize that I'm trapped in some sort of ice rock, oh Titan please help me.

Kind of nervous i clear my throat to make sure that my most goldenish guard of the goldenish guardish voice comes out

— Who says that I'm spying on you? — Great, okay, lying is not exactly my greatest ability. I give up on trying to look over my shoulder, only to be met face to face with a girl hanging from a branch. Startled by this a not-so goldenish guardish squeal comes out from the depths of my soul. Titan why do you do this to me?

— Oh is that so?, cause i'm pretty sure that looking at someone from behind a tree without them knowing counts as spying, sir — Ok maybe that was not my best most smart move

— Actually it could count as stalking, so, do you have to say something in your defense?

I take a second to think about an answer, and when nothing comes to mind I just roll my eyes annoyed, because yes she is right, but why would she? — Don't you have something else to do?

Her smile only gets bigger — See?, i'm right — she gets down from the branch — Now give my a valid reason to ot let you trapped here for the rest of the day, maybe ill even use you for practice, who knows.

Now is my turn to smile as a clever enough answer comes to mind — Did you just admit that you want to use me? What kind of freak are you? — I give her a judging look but i am not able to hide my smile in front of her offended expression

— Its called torture

— So?, you like hurting people?, is that it?

— I don't do it cause i like it, It's a punish for being a total weirdo

— Punish?, oh yeah sure, keep hiding the fact that you want to see me suffer for your own satisfaction, freak. — I spit the last word, never dropping the same shit eating grin that she was giving me before, suddenly i lose all balance as i fall straight to the ground with an oof

— Oop, my bad, I have to work on durability— I take advantage of her distraction, reaching for my talisman. One strong swipe with it and I make her fall down onto her back, obviously a perfectly done move because I am just cool like that. Golden guard,  remember? I get up as quick as i can and point at her with my weapon

— So who will torture who now? i think i missed that —  I simply can’t help my smile teasing her like this, she gives me a dirty look as if something smells bad and an immature and frustrated hit to the ground, or that is what it looked like before that same punch raised a pilar from the ground i am standing on. After flying some meters back I manage to stand on my feet and before I can say anything she is already up and tidying her clothes.

— Nice reflexes.

— Nice spell — I run my hand on my cheek getting snow out of my face

— Well, it was nice meeting you but honestly, this isn't the weather to fight, you know?, doesn't the cold air burn your nose when you agitate?, weird right? — It is obvious how she walks back while making small talk.

— Why are you running away?, coward, only giving excuses

— Who are you calling a coward? stupid spy

— I wasn't spying on you! — I stomp my foot on the ground

— Yeah whatever Hunter

My expression drops to all seriousness, i look directly into her eyes with a slight frown

— How do you know my name?

 She shrugged with her shoulders — You have the face of a guy whose name would be Hunter

I blink in disbelief looking at her, there is absolutely no way she just guessed that.

Absolutely. No. Way. 

— Hey?, you okay?, i think i awake a weird trauma of yours, you know from your face, so i fell the responsibility of saying sorry, just in case you know

I blink awake — What are you saying?, i don't have traumas, is just weird that someone you never saw just guesses your name

— What can I say? i'm a genius

— Yeah, why not.

We stand in silence

— So are you gonna tell me your name?

— Hey, i guessed yours with honest effort you don't get to have me just tell you mine

I rolled my eyes at her childish argument

— Not even a clue?

— Nu uh

She started to walk away and eventually got onto her talisman. I waited until she got far enough to get onto mine and go to the palace. I sigh before taking off, surely a long day of work waits for me back there.

[deeplovelydark]

so, let he who is without sin... thoughts: there are valid questions to be asked about the damage that turning a whole planet into a tourist destination with homogenous climate may do to its natives, culture, economy and ecology. worf being a prude, judging jadzia and others for their (real or perceived) promiscuity seems to me to be quite in character. the existence of 'make the federation great again' 'everyone is a sissy now' attitudes also makes perfect sense. unfortunately the real damage of the tourism industry was completely ignored and what we actually got was worf becoming a puritan extremist which, despite me fully believing that he could, to a degree, sympathize with their views (especially in the context of jadzia and his disapproval of her behaviour), still seems soo out of character. imagine if his motivation for sabotaging the climate thingy was partly prudery and partly valid concerns about the damage of tourism. wow you just hate people having meaningless sex + want to control women but also you are right about the exploitation inherent to this form of tourism 🤔

[hazelnut-u-out]

Up Again

here's the ao3 link

after the finale, i couldn’t get the song 'up again' by typhoon out of my head.

it suits the boys so well, especially the arc we ended on, so i had to write a fic inspired by it, of course.

i think this kind of spiraled into its own thing, but what can i say? i just go where the fic leads me lol.

'Here you thought you’d put the past behind you Why does it all keep coming up again? Doubled over in the bathroom crying Why does it all keep coming up again?

Like a tourist coming home everything how you left it.'

-2912 words

-------

Morty hated puking. 

It was a fear that he often forgot about before he was saddled with the fact that– yes… he was going to puke. 

There were a lot of things that Morty tried to bury within himself. He’d always been the type of boy to prefer burying things. Himself, for instance. 

Twice. 

He didn’t like to trod the graves of the dead. He wasn’t an angry person. He wouldn’t be like– like… 

Rick.

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

So, Morty learned to love a shovel– to covet dirt. For all it covered, it was good. For all it buried, it was wanted. 

Morty didn’t like the smell of rot. So, if his flesh was fleeting, he’d rather be oblivious. 

He couldn’t shake the thought as he hoisted his boyish form over the toilet and inhaled. He willed himself to stop drooling– for that knot beneath his tongue to stop swelling– but spit ran freely from his lips, tethering him in a disgusting display to the toilet water. 

It was dark in the bathroom, and he closed his eyes. It was all too much to focus on– the way the room felt too hot; the bite of the porcelain into his fingers; the churning in his gut; the gentle whir of heated air hissing through the vent at his right. 

His head was spinning as he beckoned the darkness to surround him.

His knees hurt. 

It reminded Morty of the way they’d burned in his dream– the jagged concrete of the garage floor nipping at them; drawing blood. 

He couldn’t shake the way Rick’s face had contorted in a sinister display of sadism as he’d pulled back his foot to hurl it forward into Morty’s awaiting jaw. He’d watched as Rick’s eyes became wide and black, and something sweet and metallic had swept over his tongue as he’d sputtered. 

He felt guilty for thinking of Rick that way– for dreaming of him in a way that was… frightening. 

Morty’s stomach careened again, flipping over itself, and he swallowed thickly– barely containing the burning wetness lapping at his throat. 

It was an odd sort of longing, Morty mused. When he’d been younger, he’d had this childish faith in his mom. Never, in all the years he’d been alive, had Beth nurtured him. 

Don’t get him wrong, his mother had comforted him. Every now and then, when he’d fall or some kid at school had decided today was the day to call him some out-dated slur, she’d rush to his side; defend him. 

At first, Morty placed newfound hope in these brief moments of hostility that weren’t directed at the world, her marriage, his father, or… himself. 

Even now, Morty still wasn’t sure what allowed Beth’s light to shine through on these rare occasions other than validation from others. Beth supported her son in what made her look good, and, unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be an awful lot these days. 

It was just enough to keep him hooked.

Even so, every time Morty was sick, or injured, or had a nightmare, he just wanted his mom. 

He’d spent so long fantasizing about the concept of his mother doting over him that he could picture it in his head, even if he logically knew that she’d never actually put in the effort to make him feel… loved.

He could almost feel the sensation of her soft, warm hands along his sweat-trickled back. He knew mothers usually wiped away their children’s stray hairs– brought cool rags along their little ones’ skin; whispered comforting words to them and held them as they were sick. 

Tears cascaded down his cheeks as the vomit surged upward with such force that he could no longer contain it. 

God, he just wished he could love her. It was enough, wasn’t it? If he wanted to be loved, then shouldn’t he be able to love her? If he wanted her love for him to be unconditional, shouldn’t his heart treat her with the same benefit?

He hated himself for hating her. Shouldn’t the good outweigh the bad? 

He took her for granted– it all for granted. He was ungrateful, just as she’d said. 

He couldn’t get the pictures out of his head– all the lives he’d taken; the orders he’d blindly followed; his self-awareness that he was being corrupted. Corrupted and allowing it. 

Why did this all keep coming up again? Why? Why– after he’d tried so hard to force it beneath the earth? 

He coughed and whispered encouragements to himself when he had enough of a moment to draw air back into his aching lungs. 

Even now, he longed for his mother. 

Morty had only ever wanted to be enough to be loved. 

Something putrid plummeted in his gut, and he collapsed over the toilet. 

Why would anyone have a child just to leave them like this? 

Loved. Loved. Loved. Loved. Loved. 

He slammed his fists down into the tops of his legs as his damp cheek rested along the cool edge of the toilet seat. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

Dutifully, Morty filled his pattern, matching the blows to the order– finally able to think one thought at a time. He was able to breathe deeply through his nose. At long last, as he counted, the sensations and sounds around him gradually slowed to something manageable– processable. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Fuck– 

Another wretch.  

It was horrible.

Violent. 

A mixture of snot and vomit streamed from his nose as he fumbled fruitlessly in the dark for the toilet paper. 

Shivering as his fingers haphazardly clenched around a bundle of two or three squares, Morty tore it off in a frenzied tug and pushed the tissue harshly against his nose. 

It was as he was blowing his nose that the light of the bathroom flickered to life overhead.

Morty jumped, startling as he threw the tissue into the toilet. The boy pressed himself firmly against the edge of the bathtub, the cold surface kissing the bare skin of his back. 

His grandfather stood in the doorway– tall, sinuous, pallid. A looming, walking ghost that never failed to make Morty’s heart drop. 

Morty felt sick again as he blinked slowly, trying to squint as his eyes adjusted and assessed Rick’s state. 

Rick wore a loose indigo tee, the stench of booze wafting over to Morty from the man’s bewildered position near the sink. His lithe index finger still hovered over the switch, the other splayed along the neck of a bottle of cognac. The elder donned a pair of dark green plaid boxers– only a shade or two darker than Morty’s own– and disheveled ankle-length socks that his grandson assumed were originally intended to be white, but were now a sullied shade of dark gray at the toe. 

Rick’s brow quirked up on one side as he looked Morty over, his lips pressing into a tight line as he lumbered forward a few paces. He lowered his shoulders minutely, crouching down just enough to peer over the lip of the toilet, before reeling back just a bit. 

He didn’t seem to notice when Morty flinched at his sudden movement– or, if he did, he didn’t mention it. 

Placing one trembling hand on the edge of the sink to balance himself, Rick slumped forward slightly, looking in the mirror before turning the cold tap on with the end of his bottle. 

Morty recognized, now, what his grandfather’s appearance meant. 

His hair wild; his clothes sweaty; the skin of his face barely draped over his harsh bones; shadows teasing in the hollows of his visage; dried spittle accompanying his stubble. 

He’d had a nightmare. 

He’d vomited– somewhere in the house– and Beth would yell at Morty for it in the morning, as if he were his grandfather’s keeper. Babysitter. He’d have to clean it up. 

Rick leaned forward, and Morty watched his adam’s apple bob as he drank from the faucet as if he’d never be able to drink again. 

Finally, Rick turned to him, narrowing his eyes as something Morty could’ve mistaken for concern swept the elder’s features. 

“Jesus, man– are you… puking? Was it another nightmare? C’mere–” Rick’s half-hearted grumble was almost gentle as he made a too-sudden movement towards Morty, his fingers outstretched as if he were going to press them against the boy’s forehead. Morty jolted backward, his head bouncing off the tub with a distinct ‘pang,’ and he winced. “What the fuck, Morty?!”

Rick’s features twisted themselves into a combination of that lingering concern and shock as he withdrew his hand, stumbling and nearly toppling over. 

“J–Just… please, Rick… Please, don’t–don’t touch me…” Morty’s voice was small as he shimmied further away, into the corner. He almost felt guilty as he saw hurt flash briefly along Rick’s face, quickly replaced by poorly feigned disinterest.

“I just– I don’t get it,” Rick mumbled, waving one hand in the air mindlessly and taking another swig from his bottle. 

“What?” Morty croaked, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the lip of the tub. He tried to focus on qualming that torrent threatening to rise once again. 

“I–I–I don’t get it. This. I don’t get this. This attitude; the sulking. You won’t even tell me what the dreams are about, but you wanna pull this shit every other night, for what? Two weeks? It’s–It’s like… I know it’s tough, Buddy, but– but you wanted this, ya know?” Rick was nearly yelling now, but there was little cut to his words. “I bet you’ve got a fever.”

There was a shuffle of fabric, a ‘clink,’ and then Morty jolted as a rough palm gingerly caressed his temple. He brought his hands up in a frantic swipe, his chest threatening to cave in on itself, and swatted the hand away. 

“Don’t touch me!” Morty barked, lurching for the toilet and gripping the rim as he slouched over hopelessly. He willed himself to hold it in. Swallow it down. 

“Morty!” Rick exclaimed. Morty could see, now, that Rick had sat himself cross-legged on the floor opposite the younger, his glass bottle to his right and nuzzled snugly against the wall. 

“Just– Goddamnit, just fucking… leave it,” Morty whispered pathetically, waving one hand in fruitless dismissal. 

Morty knew he wouldn’t. 

Rick was the kind of person who couldn’t help digging up corpses where they rested. Rick was never someone who could let a sleeping dog lie, or the dead stay dead. 

He’d dig them up– and bury them. Dig them up– and bury them. Dig them up–

But there was one thing Rick could never seem to remember, and it killed a part of Morty every time:

Corpses rot. 

They bloat. Their skin sloughs away. They fill up with maggots. Their entrails liquify. 

There were only so many times you could wrench a dead body out of the ground without it falling apart in your hands. 

Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust. 

Just like always, Rick didn’t notice the final crest of putrefaction– that last surge of decay– tumbling from his tongue as he spoke again. 

He didn’t smell the rot that clung to Morty’s withering husk like a thirsty tick to a rawboned dog. 

He didn’t see the boy’s skin disintegrate– didn’t notice the larvae that wriggled their way out of his body.

Rick didn’t feel that sickening chill when Morty’s gut sloshed in one last sweep of corrosion. 

Morty felt like a corpse as the tile bit into his palms– his knees– and Rick’s soft voice rang in his ears. 

“The nightmares– What… What are they?” Rick gulped audibly after he spoke, his murmur rebounding off of the walls like a piece of downy velvet scrapped from a seamstress in a flurry of work. 

“It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. I taught you better than that.” Rick’s tone was so forebearing that Morty found it within himself to glance up and meet the old man’s gaze. His grandfather looked grave, something heavier than dread pulling on his brow.  “Li–Listen, Slugger. If you’re dreamin’ about–about that Prime fucker, I get it, you know? I mean… I do, too. I see him with Summer or–or… you. Actually, tonight, I–”

“It’s not Prime, Rick.” Morty cut Rick off with a hiss, but he softened his next utterance at seeing how quickly Rick relinquished control of the conversation back to his grandson– the elder’s lips snapping shut in considerate silence. “It’s… It’s you. They’re about you.”

Rick blinked, his expression deadpan as if he didn’t understand what Morty was saying. “W–What?”

“It’s been longer than two weeks. I think you just started to notice. It’s– When you were better– Well… when RickBot…” Morty swallowed, his voice wavering, before continuing. “It was only every now and then. Not every night. I’m– It’s getting worse, but it’s still better than at first… I guess. I think– I think maybe it’s been about a year now? Since they started, I mean.”

“Oh…” Rick lowered his head to look at his hands, picking absentmindedly at a stray piece of skin on his thumb. “I’m stupid, Morty, but you… you know I–I’d never… hurt you, right?”

No answer. 

“Right?” Rick asked again meekly, his eyes flickering back up to the limp body in front of him.

Morty’s tongue felt heavy– like a leaden deadweight swelling as his body quivered with the urge to wretch again. He sat with the inquiry. 

Was it genuine? Was it real? 

Was this even… Rick? Or–Or some robot he’d sent to comfort him when the lights went out? Some glorified security camera making sure he didn’t wander too far out of Grandpa’s manipulation?

Morty didn’t even know if he cared— but that doubt sticks with you. 

If you’ve ever been desperate enough for approval– for any ounce of fabricated worth– you’d understand why Morty was willing to push aside his care in exchange for that bittersweet… doubt. 

Morty realized… He didn’t know. 

Rick had hurt him. Not just the accidents and poor decisions.

Rick had slapped him– punched him; kicked him. Pushed him down stairs. Laughed at his pain. 

So why, now, did Morty accept this pained look of ‘not-quite-regret’ as apology enough? Why did he accept that being broken was enough of an excuse, even if he didn’t believe it did away with guilt? 

Morty thought, for a moment, that maybe he’d spent so long trying to make Beth into the hero and Rick into the villain that he’d forgotten that real life doesn’t work like that. 

Even if he were fictional, no character had ever gotten the pleasure of writing their own story. 

Like honey-soaked cyanide, the words bubbled out of him. 

“Yeah, Rick… I know.”

Morty watched as Rick’s face softened. Relieved. 

The elder reached behind him, long limbs allowing him the privilege of not shifting his bottom, and pulled open the cabinet beneath the sink. He rustled around for a moment, shoving things this way and that noisily before letting out a little huff of approval. There was the crinkling of plastic as he removed a small bag from beneath the sink, flicking the door closed with a light ‘thud.’

Rick’s fingers popped the seal on the bag, reaching in and pulling out a tiny powder-blue pill. He placed the baggie on the ground and scooted forward, bringing the pill up between his front teeth and cupping his hands beneath his jaw. He squinted, biting down until the pill broke in half, and he let the two halves fall into his awaiting palm. 

“Here,” Rick said tenderly, gesturing down and holding his hand out. “Take half. We–We’ll split it.”

Morty poked at one of the little semi-circles with a flaccid finger. 

“What is it?”

“Benzo,” Rick stated casually, but Morty made a face, withdrawing his hand. “Jesus, kid. I’m not makin’ a habit of it. J-Just… it’ll help. I usually start with three, but… you’re little, n’ you’ve got no tolerance. Just–Just half. Don’t be a pussy.”

He was slurring. 

Morty sighed, thinking it over and deciding anything– anything– was better than feeling like this. He plucked one half of the pill and rested it between his teeth as Rick threw back the other. Rick took one swift drawl from the cognac, then held it out in offering to Morty. 

Morty’s body begged him not to drink the molten liquid, but he used it to down the medication, anyway, and let it set a fire in his tummy with a wince. 

As the room spun, he fought every urge to pull away when blistering bile once again spurted past his teeth and calloused hands gently– so uncharacteristically, chillingly, foreignly gently– rubbed circles along his clammy back. Smoothed stray curls from their sweaty purchase on his forehead. Wet a cool rag and ran it along the edges of his cheeks. 

Every touch felt like acid– ten times worse than the vomit burning the inside of his nose– but Morty was okay with it. 

He’d grit his teeth and let Rick play the Grandpa. He’d accept the possibility that any affection here, too, could be nothing more than programming. Ones and zeroes. 

Because, for now, Morty was… loved. 

Maggots and all. 

Morty shook the hand of death. 

He could be ashes if Rick were dust. 

Powdery skeletons in their tile-lined tomb. 

He closed his eyes and welcomed a mother’s touch.

-----

[destinyc1020]

is this a safe space? I actually agree with anon about the impossible, I understand why it was so beloved particularly to white audiences when it was released but on a rewatch there are glaring issues particularly with perspectives and they way it upholds white supremacy and recapitualte the idea that white middle class tourists are stories are worth telling over the many indigenous, migrants, and working class perspetives, while I do understand its a true story, its a story thats still "white washed" that is designed to appeal to the masses who can easily sympathize with a white family while ignoring if not outright othering groups of people who were most effected by the diasaster, its emotional manipulation masterclass ( though some audiences like that- so its whatever) so I can seen why people might not like it, myself included. Sometimes I think films shouldnt diminish the politics if they are depicting certain events but again politics doesnt sell, sentimentality does.

Thanks for your input Anon.

I mean, that is a valid criticism about the film, so I won't argue with you.... But I think I would feel more strongly about it though if it were a piece of FICTION and not based on real historical events.

That family DOES very much exist, and if they were able to get their story told and out there and it was made into a Hollywood film, then I'm not mad at it. 🤷🏾‍♀️

It would be nice to one day see things more from the locals who actually lived there during that disaster and get their perspective on everything. But I'm not going to bash the "Impossible" film or hate it just because THIS particular film focused on a white British family that was vacationing in Indonesia during that 2004 quake and resulting tsunami. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Sometimes a film will simply introduce you to a piece of history, and it might spark an interest to do more research on what happened in real life.

Overall, it was still a good movie imo, but I can see if some didn't like it because it didn't focus on the poc.... where the earthquake actually took place.

[pokemonbiologyirlthetabletop]

Pyukumuku (#771)

Holothorunna parva

Pyukumuku, the Sea Cucumber Pokémon. This adorable Pokémon is capable of spitting out its organs, which can take different shapes such as a fist! Watch out! If you accidentally step on one of these guys, it will smack you with its fist-shaped organs!When it’s on land, its body is coated in a viscous fluid that allows it to remain on land without drying out. This same fluid is used in traditional medicines as a moisturizer.  

This tiny adorable menace averages at 1 ft tall (0.3 M) and 2.6 pounds (1.2 kg).

Habitat: They are mostly found in the warm, sunlit waters of the Pacific Ocean. Pyukumukus are often on land, either beaches or rocky outcroppings, and in shallow waters. Please note, that while they are definitely sea cucumbers, they are not a universal replacement for all sea cucumbers, and there are still going to be many other species of sea cucumbers.

Life Cycles: Pyukumukus mate fairly randomly with other Pokémon. There doesn’t seem to be any particular courtship rituals, just whichever mate that’s around that they tolerate enough to make babies with. When they do lay eggs, Pyukumukus will lay eggs into the 200s at a time, which is about once a year during the fall. These tiny eggs will hatch in the winter (when oxygen levels are at their highest in the water) as an equally tiny Pyukumuku. They reach sexual maturity when they are at level 15.

As indicated by their reproductive rates, Pyukumukus are eaten by a lot of things, which explains their quick tempers and willingness to punch things.

Pyukumukus are known to live up to 10 years in captivity!

Behavior: Pyukumukus are finicky little guys that don’t like their spikes or its mouth touched, and will probably punch you for this transgression. Which is valid of it, enforcing its boundaries like that. Outside of this, as long as you’re respectful of its boundaries, Pyukumuku are quite excellent critters to have around as pets and household companions.

Diet: Pyukumukus mostly eat sponges and algae. If you have one as a pet, be sure to get specialty Pyukumuku food available at your local pet store.

Conservation: Least Concern

Relationship with Humans: Often found on beaches in the pacific ocean, Pyukumuku can become a small hazard to beach-goers who aren’t looking where they walk. Inhabitants are familiar with their antics and know to toss Pyukumukus back into the ocean when they’re looking a bit thin (or immediately when they wash up on shore), but tourists tend not to like them, creating a need for part-time Pyukumuku-Chucking jobs during the height of tourist season.

Pyukumukus are very meme-able Pokémon in this world. They’re cute, they’ll punch you, and they’re a tiny menace to warm beaches everywhere. In the obligatory Beach Episode of an anime, there’s usually a Pyukumuku gag. At the beaches they inhabit, vendors often sell Pyukumuku merchandise, including the always popular “I was punched by a Pyukumuku!” t-shirts. They are quintessential to the Pacific Islands, and are often taken home as pets.

As trainer companions well, they can fight, but most folks with Pyukumukus aren’t using them for combat. They’re generally seen as seaside pets and tiny menaces, not battle companions. Still, folks have a love-hate relationship with them, and they’ve captured the hearts of many all over the globe.

Classification: Holothorunna parva. The genus name “Holothorunna” is a combination of “Holothuroidea” (the Class that is sea cucumbers) and “Jorunna” (the genus name for the “sea bunny”, an unrelated sea slug that Pyukumuku bears design resemblance to), and its species epithet “parva” means “small” and is also the species epithet for the sea bunny.

~~~~~~~~

Hey guess what, if you like my stuff, this is my website where you can find other Pokémon I've written on and more information about the game that I’m slowly making! Check it out! I write books sometimes too.

[merlin-wolfgang-trades-hale]

The McDanno looks of this posts reminded me of a scene of that ‘Danny gets a prince albert to not do anything stupid to spite Steve after he leaves bc of Shelbourne and they never really defined their relationship’ wip I have. So because I don’t at all know what the time table for it is, here’s a bit because I have no self control. 

 “So...this your game plan? Stalk me on my off time?” 

“Intervene, meddle, and crash every ‘date’. Yeah,” Steve nodded, using air quotes on the word date. “That guy was a loser! I did you a favor!”

“What if I just wanted a drink? Huh?”

“You can have a drink with the team, or at my place. Or yours. Cheaper. Better. This wasn’t because you were thirsty. If it were, you wouldn’t be going to an overpriced tourist trap.”

“Alright, maybe it’s not about the drink. Maybe it’s an escape from feeling like an unwanted outsider! Maybe I just wanted a night away from being reminded how far away from home I actually am! Maybe make a friend.” 

That cut deeper than he wanted it to, mostly because even if Danny was exaggerating to make a point, it was still a valid point to be made. Danny didn’t think of Hawaii as home and his leaving probably didn’t make it any better. He wasn’t here as Danny’s boss and only slightly here as Danny’s friend. He was in front of Danny as a remorseful lover who fucked up and wanted to fix what they had. But he’s never had a real relationship. Not one that mattered or that he thought he could be proud of. Or one he wanted to pursue.

He thought of Danny every free moment he had while he was away. Worried for a variety of reasons. About their relationship, first and foremost. About his safety without being there to watch his back, no matter how much he trusted the skills of the cousins. There was more to the job than what they did in the field. He accepted the Governor's offer and all that came with it, and he wasn’t blind that it was offered to him for his status and repertoire. He had no idea what him suddenly leaving would fully mean for the team and their perks once he was gone. 

He could just stand back. Let the pieces fall where they may. Well, he has! The thought of Danny with anyone else literally made him sick. He’ll deny it and have it back up his claim of needing to drive or he’ll get carsick. He even tried giving Catherine another chance in hopes he could go back to whatever he was doing during his time in the Navy to keep suspicion off of him not being straight. But that backfired and he hopes they won’t need help from her any time soon. Maybe in time he’ll forgive her for thinking about Danny and calling out his name when he reached climax with her going down on him but she’s blocked his number and he doesn’t blame her. His concern is still highly on getting Danny back so if it’s a wake up call for each of them at least they knew where they stand now. 

“If that’s all there is then they wouldn’t mind meeting your other friends,” Steve said stubbornly. He fought for what he believed in and after what they had, he had to fight for them. 

“And if I need a life outside of you?” 

Steve wished that would be more sarcastic, but the pain in Danny’s eyes was too real and he hates himself for causing it. 

“I’m not good at being away from you.”

Danny scoffed, “Really?” 

“I had to follow that lead. Maybe it’s pretentious to say I know you understand that, but you do. But I came back. And...it wasn’t because I was born here. Because I have a family legacy here. I came back...because you’re here. If you were to have found a way to get Grace back to Jersey, I’d go there.” 

“If Rachel did another bitch move and took Grace to England?” 

“Honestly? I’d call in some favors to keep her from doing it. But if she managed that bullshit, I got connections with guys who set up living arrangements for people anywhere, and I’d get us a place as close to Grace as possible.”     

“...and if I just want to fuck my way out of the feelings I have for you?” 

“Assuming they don’t run off because I’m looming by or with a black eye then...I’ll wait.”

“Wait?” 

“Until you get bored. Until you get tired. I fucked up, trust me, not a moment’s passed where I don’t remember that, but what we had doesn’t go away. It hasn’t. As angry as you are at me right now...you still care. You want ‘us’ as badly as I do.” 

His biggest fear is being wrong about that. That Danny didn’t care as much as he did, so as much as he hates not being able to automatically pick up where they left off, Danny’s anger at being left behind means he cares. More genuinely than anyone has cared about Steve in too long. Maybe even ever. 

“I need time, Steven...” 

“Good.” 

“Good?”

“Yeah, good. Means we’re not over. Just need to mend.” 

“Can we really be over when we never officially started?” 

“With loopholes like that...even if we go slow in the relationship part...if I invite you over for a beer. Will you come?” 

“...no.” 

“Oh...”

“I honestly didn’t come here to fuck anyone, you schmuck. I can’t right now anyway.” 

“What? Why not?” When Danny didn’t seem to want to answer, he prompted, “Danny, why not?”

“I’m still healing from my piercing...” 

“Piercing? What piercing will keep you fro-” his eyes zero in on Danny’s crotch. A jolt of arousal at the imagery in his mind went straight to his own cock, “You got pierced while I was away, Danno?” 

“Maybe. I got used to certain level of recklessness with you around. Suddenly, everything’s too orderly. And...I didn’t want to do anything stupid out of petty spite I’d regret later. This...ensured it.” 

“Can I see it?”

“You track me down, act all possessive and caveman like and made a show of personally returning the drink someone got for me, and now you’re asking to see me naked?” 

“You don’t have to get naked to show me your cock.” 

“You’re an animal, you know that?” 

“None of that has been a no. Come back to my place. Give me a show.” 

“You haven’t earned a show.”

------

they continue to banter, steve takes danny back to his place, doesn’t get a show but they at least know they want to work through their relationship-y things.