#we live in a two party state so of course the recordings would not be admissible without our permission

[therealcocoshady]

Hi, coco!

You could make a third part of Eminem x Young Actress Reader, where the reader accompanies him to a game in Detroit and the cameras can't stop focusing on them because Em has never been seen so smiling and affectionate with someone. For the rest you can add what you want. By the way, I love your work and I love that you write about Eminem since almost no one does.<3

Family Game

Eminem x Younger Actress Reader

Part 1 : Daddy’s Spaghetti

Part 2 : Red Carpet Appearance

AN : thank you for your request ! I hope you liked it. I added my own little twist to it 🥰

Ever since your remarked outing at the Oscars, everyone knew you and Marshall were dating, much to your delight. Sure, you would gladly do without the press coverage, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a tiny bit satisfying to have everyone know that Eminem, hip hop’s most eligible bachelor was spoken for, by yours truly, no less. After all, you were not the first (nor the last) public figure to thirst over him and it felt nice to have the “competition” know that they should back off. Especially when you were in a long distance relationship : him in Detroit, you in LA. Sure, you trusted each other and often traveled to make it work but, still, it’s easy to get jealous, especially when both parties are public figures. Marshall was well aware of your status as Hollywood’s rising star and, since he had been your crush for years, you knew for a fact that he has tons of ladies throwing themselves at him. 

In spite of the distance and a couple of jealousy episodes, the two of you managed to make your relationship work, however. Marshall frequently flew out to LA to record with Dr Dre and other artists and to visit you and, whenever you weren’t shooting a movie, you joined him in Michigan. Your relationship was now in the serious state of « we’re both hope at each other’s place ». Your living room table was full of CDs and notepads and his living room was made cozy with your favorite crystals (which he always made fun of), scented candles (which he secretly loved) and fuzzy blankets (which he stole whenever you weren’t around). The whole relationship, despite trials, felt cozy and domestic. And it was made even better by the fact that Marshall had finally managed to ease up. You tended to blame it on the good critical reception after the Oscars : as soon as the two of you had been spotted together, holding hands, Marshall happily gushing about you to the press, both your fans and his had showered you with love and showed nothing but support. Whenever you were positing, fans (most of the time, respectfully) asked about him and they seemed truly overjoyed by the relationship. From what you gathered in the social media comments, they were also dying for the two of you to be spotted together again. Marshall was pretty much an hermit and not the kind to go out and about when he knew he might be spotted but, on one occasion, he had to oblige the fans. 

His beloved Detroit Lions were playing your Los Angeles Rams at Detroit’s Ford Field Stadium and there was no way in hell you would miss the occasion to attend. Knowing how protective of your relationship he could be, you made plans to attend on your own, with a couple of friends who would fly in for the occasion, but Marshall surprised you by actually requesting your presence. 

Don’t you want to go with me ? He asked. 

You mean… on a date ? You clarified. 

I mean there would be other people around, like family, friends and shit but we could be together, he said with a smile. 

You mean you would agree to being spotted with me ?! You asked jokingly. You know I wouldn’t be caught dead in Lions apparel ! 

What I mean is that I’d be proud to hold your hand, even if you’re wearing that stupid Rams hoodie, he grinned. 

Ok, you giggled. As long as I’m not forced to cheer for your team ! 

You ended up attending the event in a private suite with a lot of other people. Of course, his children were in attendance, as well as a couple of D12 friends. You had met everyone previously. A couple of months into the relationship, Marshall had organized a dinner for you to officially meet his daughters and everything had gone smoothly. You absolutely loved them, and same went for the friends he had introduced to you on different occasions. At the game, you were also joined by a couple of your friends, that you not so secretly planned on setting up with some of his. In your mind, there was no doubt that Alicia and Porter were meant to be and the Game seemed like the perfect occasion. It was joyful and everyone was really happy to be here. You were donning your favorite Rams apparel, much to Marshall’s dismay, but that didn’t prevent him from casually holding your hand. 

For how much would you wear Lions apparel ? Your friend jokingly asked. 

Nobody in this room can afford it, you replied with a grin. 

Oh really ? Marshall asked with a smirk. 

How about if you guys get married ? Porter asked. Would you be willing to support the Lions ? 

That would require a HUGE rock, you giggled. But yeah, sure, if we ever get married, I’ll wear Lions gear for all games, except the ones against the Rams. 

Your friends erupted in « oooohs » and « aaaahs ». The rivalry between your two teams was enough to fuel a dozen of conversations but, other than that, everyone around you had to agree that you were kind of the perfect couple. Your best friends always pointed out that Marshall was good at keeping you grounded and reminding you of the things that mattered - besides all the LA glitz and glamour - and Marshall’s circle seemed happy that you encouraged him to go out of his comfort zone. 

He was usually stressed out whenever there were tons of cameras around. It was unsettling to you, at first, because it was part of the job, but as your relationship progressed and he came with you to some events, he seemed to ease up. Still, he wasn’t big on public displays of affection, but you didn’t mind. You enjoyed his company nonetheless and you didn’t need him to kiss you in public or even hold your hand to be happy to be with him. In settings like football games, though, he was himself - the man you knew and loved in everyday life. He could be seen clapping, shouting, cheering… a far cry from the stoic face he arbored on red carpets and magazine covers. And you absolutely loved to see him enjoy himself and have fun. You were enamored with his smile and happy demeanor and you didn’t care too much about the 60 000 other people, you only had eyes for him. Obviously, though, as a Detroit native and global superstar, he was one of the centres of attention when Lose Yourself started playing before the game and everyone started singing/rapping along to the lyrics. Everyone in your group watched Marshall, who was definitely in a good mood. So were you, to be honest, and you couldn’t help but rap along, this song being one of your favorites ever. As the song ended, you could see Marshall sitting right next to you, trying not to laugh. 

You’re adorable, he chuckled. 

What ? You asked with a giggle. It’s the ultimate stadium song ! And my boyfriend is the one who wrote it !!! 

I love you, he simply said before cupping your face and placing a chaste kiss on your lips. 

That was the last tender moment the two of you shared before the end of the game. When your two favorite teams played each other, there was no romantic involvement anymore. It was all betting, taunting and calling each other names. For the first two quarters, the Rams seemed to dominate, which you gladly shoved in your boyfriend’s face, but when the Lions ended up winning, you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Despite it all, and in spite of you being a sore loser, Marshall behaved like the perfect boyfriend and pecked you on the cheek, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you exited your suite. His team winning always put him in a celebratory mood and he was more affectionate than usual, not giving a damn what people would see or think. He even went so far as to kiss your lips. 

Of course, in the following hours, the Internet went absolutely crazy over the pictures of the two of you at the stadium. While some accounts were raving about your outfit (because you did put some effort into making that Sports apparel work !), most of them were gushing about Marshall’s display of affection and how in love the two of you looked. 

« Look at his smile 🥰 » commented one, or « Look how in love he looks when she’s rapping his song 😭❤️ » were a few of the comments you could see under the videos of the event. It was extremely cute and, in moments like these, you felt like the luckiest woman on earth. However, a swarm of other comments started to appear, focusing on… Marshall’s daughters. The three of them were sitting on the row just behind you and they could be seen laughing at your nonexistent rapping skills (all fair, really) and mocking their father’s display of affection. You didn’t take offense at all - you’d been there yourself and you knew how icky it could feel, seeing your parent being affectionate with someone in public, but the press and social media accounts seemed to turn it into a family feud. If the headlines were to be believed, neither Alaina, Stevie or Hailie approved of the relationship and thought you were too young for Marshall. They apparently despised you and saw you as the most evil and wicked stepmother who was more than likely after their Dad’s fortune. Of course, reality couldn’t be further from the truth. Whenever you were in Detroit, you spent a great deal of time with Marshall’s daughters and you considered as friends. So much so that you even made plans of your own, that did not include him. It wasn’t rare for the four of you to have dinner or go shopping. On occasion, they even visited you in California and you soon planned to go on a girls’ trip in Morocco. So, when Hailie showed you the headline on your phone, everyone burst out laughing. 

« Evil stepmother », Stevie chortled. That’s hilarious. 

Is that because of the face you made, Hailie ? When Y/N was rapping ? Alaina chimed in. 

I was making a face because they were corny ! She laughed. Look at Dad’s face on the video. He’s all cute and lovey dovey. Of course I wanted to puke ! 

Marshall rolled his eyes. He was no stranger to his kids making fun of how in love with you he was but, honestly, he didn’t care. For the first time in forever, he was happy and thriving in a relationship. A healthy one, at that. Whenever you were around, he could barely contain his joy and good mood and he often thought he would do anything to make you smile. He hated public attention but he simply loved showing you off and enjoying life with you. However, he had to admit he was a little annoyed by the comments involving your relationship with his daughters. He knew there was no truth to it whatsoever but that didn’t make it less annoying. First of all, he hated seeing his kids’ names in the media, especially if it was negative and, secondly, he hated the idea of lies involving all of you, the people he loved the most on this earth. However, the four of you were grown women and he knew better than to say something so he figured it would be best to wait for it to die down. 

Unfortunately, though, the rumors did not die down and the whole thing got blown out of proportion. It wasn’t only on social media : press and other media outlets got ahold of the story and even dug up some obscure social media posts and took them out of context. They really made it seem like there was hatred between the girls and you were a mean gold-digger who wanted to estrange Marshall from his children. Nothing could be further for the truth though, and you even celebrated the holidays together. After years spent in the public eye, you tried not to let it get to you but it was hard. Even if some of your past relationships had been publicized, this one was on a whole other level and you had a hard time dealing with the scrutiny. Especially when some people were starting to wish for the end of your career with comments like « What a b****. Hope no one casts her ever again 🙄 » or « Hope she enjoys her Oscar because she won’t last much longer in Hollywood 💀 ». You tried not to let your feelings show. Marshall was already annoyed and you didn’t want things to get worse. After all, you knew how overprotective he could get over the people he loved. 

A few weeks went by and the attention seemed to die down around the holidays. You had been with Marshall for a year and a half and it was your first time celebrating together. You would spend the days leading up to Christmas in Michigan, go back to your family in California for the holidays and then jet off to a private Island lent by a friend for some vacation time just the two of you. Marshall would even join you in LA to spend some time with your family who was definitely approving of him. They absolutely adored him and considered him a part of the family. 

In the week leading up to Christmas, you were on Christmas tree decoration duty with the girls while Marshall was letting you do your thing. Hailie had come up with some ornaments as merch for her podcast and you thought it would be cute and funny to take a selfie with one of them that said « Shady or Nice ». You posted it to your Instagram account with some cheesy caption and didn’t pay it too much attention. When you checked the comments, a day or so later, you were surprised at the reaction. What you thought would be a cute nod to your boyfriend and his daughter’s podcast ended up in a shitstorm, with people basically accusing you on sucking up to Hailie to get to Marshall. In their mind, you were a master manipulator. Of course, these were just a bunch of people commenting and the rest seemed rather supportive and happy to see you acknowledging your relationship, something you rarely did on your social media account. Still, you were a little bugged off when you went to bed. 

What’s up, babygirl ? Marshall asked as he laid next to you. 

Nothing, you shrugged. Just these mean trolls. 

What are they saying now ? 

That your daughters hate me, you summed up. And that I’m trying to suck up to them. 

That’s stupid, he scoffed. The girls love you and you know it. 

And I love them too, you know ? You replied. But I don’t know… I don’t like people getting the wrong idea. And I see people commenting about me in their posts and it breaks my heart. 

It’s not your fault, he said before kissing your forehead. Let’s not think about that, ok ? Just focus on the holidays and the great time we’re going to have. 

I’m going to miss you for Christmas, you pointed out. 

Three days, he chuckled. And then I’m joining you in California. And after that… you, me, a private island and your tiniest bikinis. 

You nuzzled his neck and enjoyed the warmth of his embrace, making you forget all of your worries. The next day, you were set to hop on the jet to go back to California and enjoy some family time with your brother and your parents. Before that, you enjoyed one last brunch at Marshall’s place, with his daughters. Hailie got everyone matching ugly Christmas sweaters and you were absolutely moved that she got one for you. You took corny pictures in front of the Christmas tree posing with your boyfriend’s daughters while he was rolling his eyes at your dumb poses. You even got Marshall to pose with you. He wasn’t big on taking pictures but he knew how important these were for you and the girls so he obliged with a smile on his face. A few hours later, you were on the jet, scrolling social media and noticed that Alaina had posted the picture of you, her and her sisters in front of the Christmas Tree with the caption : « Happy holidays from our FAMILY to yours 💕 ». You thought it was the sweetest thing ever that she considered you as family. Of course, trolls were still in the comments, but you tried to stay positive. A few hours later, Hailie updated her last podcast episode of the year, with Stevie as guest. 

So, before we begin this episode, we wanted to address something, she began. 

Family matters, Stevie specified. 

Right, Hailie nodded. You guys have been commenting a lot on last episode’s video and on my Instagram account…

All our accounts, her sister corrected.

Yes. Everyone’s account. It seems like Internet is going crazy about a certain video that was taken at the last Lions Game, so I thought… we thought we should clear things up, Hailie said. I understand that there are always going to be rumors about our family, and we can’t help it at this point, but it’s the Holidays and I don’t my mood to be ruined by negative attention and lies. So… Stevie, do you want to comment on the video ? 

Basically, we were at the game, enjoying some family time and people filmed our reaction to Y/N… our Dad’s girlfriend, rapping Lose Yourself, Stevie explained. And kissing afterwards. And what really sparked the whole thing is the face Hailie made. 

Yeah, I pretended to puke, Hailie giggled. And no, guys, it’s not because I hate Y/N or anything like that, it’s just… we’re a normal family, guys. Whenever you see your parents being cheesy and corny, you want to puke, right ? 

Right, Stevie giggled. So, let’s not dwell on this but for the record : we love Y/N and she is not what people make her to be. We see her as family, you know ? 

Yes ! It’s the Holidays, it’s a family time and we all know I love Shady stories but… nothing Shady here. It’s all love, Hailie chuckled. 

Too much love, Stevie joked. 

This warmed your heart even more. The girls absolutely didn’t have to jump to your defense but the fact that they did warmed your heart and you couldn’t wait to spend some time with them again. You sent texts to thank them and wished them happy holidays, saying you were looking forward to seeing them soon. You also texted your boyfriend, telling him how amazing his kids were and that you loved him and his family. 

MARSHALL’S POV 

Marshall was eating dinner with his daughters when he got a text from Y/N that immediately put a smile on his face. 

You girls are amazing, he said with a smile. 

No idea what you’re talking about, Alaina said with feigned innocence. 

I think you do, he replied with a grin. Seriously, you didn’t have to do that but… thank you. It means a lot to me. 

We weren’t going to let people think we hate her, Stevie said.

Not when she is actually about to become our stepmother, Hailie said with a smirk. 

Marshall immediately let his fork fall on his plate, a look of surprise on his face. 

I… erm… wanted to talk to you about it first, he said. How do you even know… ? 

I found the ring sketches in your office last time I went there, Stevie said. I was searching for one of your old CDs. 

And you had to go yapping to your sisters about that ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Are you really going to propose ? Hailie said with excitement. 

I mean… I’ve been thinking about it, yeah, he admitted. I wanted to make sure you girls were ok with it first but, if that’s fine with you, I’d like to propose to her over the holidays. 

The girls erupted in cheers and immediately gave their blessings, commenting on how they never thought this day would come. Of course, they quizzed him about his plans. 

Were spending a couple of days with her family before going on vacation for NYE, so I was planning on asking for her father’s blessing, he explained. 

Isn’t he like… almost your age, though ? Stevie chuckled. 

It’s a matter of respect, he shrugged. I appreciated when Matt and Evan asked for my blessing so I thought I’d do the same. Can’t hurt to have your future father-in-law on your side. 

And… as for the proposal ? Alaina asked. 

I know it’s not super original but I was thinking of doing it on the private island, over a nice dinner on the beach, at sunset or something like that, he said. 

It’s so cute ! Alaina said. I love it. 

I think my Dad’s gone corny, Hailie joked. 

You think it’s corny ? He asked with his eyebrows furrowed. 

Oh definitely. But she’s just as corny so she is going to love it ! 

One question though, Stevie said. If you guys get married, she’ll move to Detroit, right ? 

That’s sort of the plan, yeah, Marshall said. She’d move for work quite a bit, depending on where movies are shot, but she’d live with me. Why ? 

So… she’d have to turn into a Lions fan eventually, right ? 

I’m counting on it, he said with a smirk. 

Is that why you’re proposing ? Alaina joked. 

Maybe, he chuckled. I swear to God, I’m putting a ban on Rams apparel in the prenup. 

[winniethewife]

I call you when I need you, my heart's on fire (Marc Spector x F!reader)

Prompt: Heatwave

Words: 1080

It was a record high heatwave that summer. There had been a few power outages city wide.  Marc was half way done with a movie one night when the whole flat went dark.

“Fuck, Not again” He grumbles before standing up. He stretches and looks around, trying to figure out what he was going to do with his time waiting for the power to comeback on, just then Stevens Cell rings. Marc was slightly startled but as he picks it up notices the caller ID. “My Dove” he presses the green button to accept the call.

“Hey.” He keeps it cool, She was Steven’s girl, not his, He wasn’t sure he was ready to be in a relationship again, after letting go of Layla? He just wasn’t there yet.

“Oh! Hey Marc, Um…I could use some company do you think…you could come over?” She sounded freaked out, Marc looks in the nearest reflective surface searching for input from his alter but finds only himself staring back.

“Uh. I don’t know, Steven seems to be MIA at the moment.” He says with slight annoyance. Of course just when the Brit is needed is when he decides to disappear. She lets out a shakey sigh, Marc’s ears prick up at the sound, the familiar twinge of anxiety in her voice. “You okay?”

“N-Not exactly, um… I’m sorry I just…Is there any chance you can come over anyway I…I don’t want to be alone right now… with the power cut…” Her voice starts to crack slightly as she starts tearing up, these sorts of situations always gave her the worst anxiety attacks. Marc doesn’t let her finish her thought.

“I’m on my way. Just hang on for me. Okay?” He wouldn’t admit to himself how much he had grown to care for her but he was quickly throwing on a pair of sneakers and grabbing his things to leave with out a second thought.

“Thank you Marc I really appreciate it.” She hangs up the phone. She starts to pace her flat, the heat was nearly unbearable. She had every window in the place open, she wasn’t sure if it was helping or making it worse. It seemed to take forever and at the same time no time at all for Marc to show up at her door. When she opened the door, Marc quickly flushed bright red as in the light of his torch she is revealed to be in a tank top and short shorts, damp with sweat. She smiles at him oblivious to the situation he was in, deciding to give him a quick hug. “Thank you for coming.”

“No problem.” He quickly comes in to the flat, swallowing a lump in his throat as he looks around. He wipes the sweat from his brow as she walks with him to the living room. They both sit awkwardly apart from each other, when she suddenly looks up.

“OH shit!” She stands up quickly and heads for the kitchen, Marc follows behind her to find her opening the freezer and taking out two large tubs of ice cream. “My niece’s birthday party is tomorrow and I was supposed to bring these, but they’re going to go bad before then.” She puts them down on the counter and looks at him with a small smile. Marc breaks down laughing.

“Christ, with the way you reacted I thought something bad happened.” He manages to get out while laughing as he leaned on the counter, she started laughing along with him.

“Oh my Gods, I’m so sorry! I just realized…Oh that’s too funny.” She was giggling so hard she had a hard time standing up. After a few minutes of their unstoppable laughter she got out two spoons and they went to town on the ice cream. They started talking about whatever came to mind. Her family, the book series she was reading, how bad this heat wave was.

“I know I would rather be back in the US right now, at least we have AC.” Marc says before shoving another spoon full of slightly melted Ice cream in his house.

“Well, I’m glad you are here, I wouldn’t have met you if you were still in the states.” She comments as she slightly blushed.

“You mean you wouldn’t have met Steven.” He says with a smirk

“No, I mean yes, him too but…I meant you.” She softly answers. Marc stops, this was not a conversation he was sure he should have. She continues “Marc, I know why you won’t open up to me, I know…you might not be ready but…I can’t help it, the mornings I wake up when Steven has spent the night and you’re there, the way you hold me, the way you fixed my washing machine when it was broken, the way you care about Steven, I couldn’t help but fall for you, I’ve fallen in lo-” She couldn’t finish her sentence as his lip were on hers, taking her in his arms as his lips moved against hers, hungry, wanting, no needing to be close to her. The way he had moved so quickly to her and held her so close, it was so natural, so normal, It felt right. Her hands on his chest as she presses into him, their lips dancing together in sync, his large hands gripping her hips. He feels like he can’t let go, that the moment he pulls away she will vanish. As the passion heats up, so does the temperature, and it is quickly too much to bare, she pulls away and looks up at him. In the darkness she still manages to fins his eyes. Marc couldn’t find the words, he wasn’t sure how to follow up that moment. His head was spinning, he wanted to be hers, he wanted…so much more than he ever let himself have. She opened her mouth to say something and just then the lights flicker back on. They both wince from the sudden bright light in their eyes. As they take a moment to adjust Marc finally speaks up.

“I want the same thing. I’m Sorry I didn’t admit it sooner.” He looks into her eyes, his brow furrowed.

“Don’t apologize! It’s okay, you needed time and I’m more than willing to wait.” She smiles at him, reaching up to touch his face, he leans into the touch.

“I just hope it’s worth the wait.”

Bingo Masterlist

Tag: @moonknight-events @juneknight @spacecowboyhotch @silvernight-m

[drunkenskunk]

So, despite knowing that it's probably futile, I called the office of my senator once again, in the vain hope that the staffer I talked to will pass on the message and get her to see reason in regards to KOSA.

Trouble is: how? Catherine Cortez-Masto is a cosponsor of the bill. I couldn't appeal to her sense of morality, as she's a politician; she had her ethics surgically removed before coming into office. I couldn't appeal to the stated goal of the bill, protecting kids, because if she had spoken to a single cybersecurity professional, she would know that the bill is dangerous to kids, adults, and anyone wanting to use the internet. I couldn't appeal to the Constitution, because if she actually gave a shit about the US Constitution or the Bill of Rights, she would already know its a blatant, flagrant violation of both the 1st and 4th amendments, and be trying to kill the bill, not cosponsor it. And I probably couldn't appeal to the fact that the bill was dreamed up by the same republican think-tank that dreamed up Project 2025, the plan to turn what little remains of our democracy into a theocratic dictatorship run by evangelical christians; she probably believes she's wealthy and influential enough that it will insulate her from the worst effects, assuming she isn't already in on it anyway.

It was a puzzler. And then I had an idea. This is what I said:

"Do you know who Steve Sisolak is? You do? Good. Do you want to know why he's the former Nevada state governor, and not the current one? It's because Sisolak was, without exaggeration, the most unpopular politician I've ever come across. No one liked him. Democrats hated him, republicans REALLY hated him, libertarians hated him, and even people like me, who have never felt represented by any of the major political parties in the state but still vote in every single election because we consider it our civic duty as American citizens, didn't like him either. I can't think of a single person who ever had anything positive to say about his tenure as governor, and as a result? The voter base in Nevada was willing to do anything and vote for anyone just to get him out of office.

"I tell you this, because if Senator Cortez-Masto does not change course, and continues to cosponsor and vote yes on the incredibly unpopular, incredibly dangerous, blatantly unconstitutional KOSA bill, then she will make Steve Sisolak's year, as he will no longer be the most reviled politician in the state of Nevada. If she does not reverse course, she will be committing political suicide on a scale hithertofore unknown to science. If she votes yes, then she might as well pull a Mitch McConnell and announce her retirement right now, because any of her political aspirations for the future, at least among the Nevada voter base, will be dead in the water.

"Now, I don't know how many phone calls you've gotten about KOSA. But I suspect it's not as many as you should. Most people in this state don't have time to call their senators. Most people are working two or three jobs to make ends meet with stagnant wages among the rising cost of living and landlords finding any excuse to increase our rent. Hell, I'm calling you on my lunchbreak right now. But despite all that... people here still find time to vote. And if there is one thing I've learned about voters in this state in the 18 years I've been able to? It's that if you piss us off, the people in this state will absolutely vote entirely out of spite, just to burn everything down. KOSA is so incredibly unpopular among the voter base of this state, that when she's next up for reelection? She will find herself out of a job, mark my words.

"Make sure you tell the Senator that, word for word. And if you can't remember, just play her this phone call that I already know is being recorded."

Will this do any good?

I don't know.

Probably not.

But it made me feel a bit better, at least.

[rowanyx]

So in the Adventuring Party, Brennan asked Beardsley whether there is a world in which Kristen gives up being a Cleric.

Mechanics-wise, I understand why the response was a no. That kind of big change would have a lot of restructuring to do, from the character sheet to minis to even plot changes, which would be difficult mid-season like this. (See Riz's sub-class change from Inquisitor to Arcane Trickster happening now, rather than when we actually met Pok)

Story-wise, though, I respectfully disagree. In fact, I posit there is many a world in which Kristen could change her class.

The big one, I think, would be Paladin. Especially either Redemption or Oathbreaker. After all, you could easily argue that this whole situation (i.e. Cassandra seeing Kristen not putting her priesthood first, dying, and the new mysterious voice that taunted the party with the rotting corpse of the god Kristen already failed) cumulates into exactly the type of description for an Oathbreaker (going back on their word and then joining up with some evil entity instead). And, well, after two gods dying, one you've very much stated to want to be good for but can't get yourself to do so, sounds very much like the type of person that would seek Redemption. If not for themselves, at least for others.

And this could also work to show sort of backslide into the Applebee's family drama. After all, we know Bucky just started as a Paladin himself. He's probably not high enough leveled to have a sub-class of his own, but doesn't Redemption fit? The kid who was forced into Kristen's old role, who is already going around trying to save his classmates from Hell? If Kristen did switch to Paladin, they would most likely share classes (something like Gorgug's Artificier track, school-wise). A perfect opportunity to flesh out the relationship there, either to save Bucky from Mac and Donna or have him 'save' Kristen.

Of course, these are just two of the easier paths to see.

Porter did want another Bad Kid in his classes, didn't he?

Maybe Kristen finds she desires a guide and becomes a Totem Warrior Barbarian.

Maybe Kristen decides that just because her parents suck, doesn't mean the whole bloodline did. This causes her to delve into old records and come out of it as a Path of the Ancestral Guardian Barbarian.

Another idea, given the Buff Kristen movement, is a Fighter. Especially the training and power describing a Champion or the fighting spirit of a Samurai, to lose so many gods and keep going.

Or maybe she finds the issue is the evangelizing. That she cannot dedicate herself to bringing others into her path, but still desiring a higher being to help her. There are many to make a Warlock Contract with. She's even living with one, technically, by way of Fig's Archdevil job.

You could even argue for an Eloquence Bard, with all the speeches and now the Presidency campaign.

Or hey, Cassandra was a moon goddess, wasn't she? Maybe even a Lunar Sorcerer.

Unlikely but theoretically possible, she's just desperate to fix something and takes up Artificing. After all, how different can a Battle Smith really be? It's still healing and protecting, right?

Or, let's revisit an old topic. At the top of the game, Kristen was called the Chosen One. We saw that title following her even after leaving Helio. Sol treated her kindly for it, she invented YES! and even reinvented it into YES?. An argument can even be made that that's part of why Cassandra was fixed so easily after clinging to her. But what is that? Where is that power from? Perhaps some new magic awakens in Kristen. That of a Divine Soul Sorcerer.

Just, Kristen, taking a hard look at religion and Clericdom and deciding maybe it wasn't right for her.

[corawithfanfiction]

The Next Step Is Evolution & White Wolf And Polaris

When I get messed up at the party (Episode 4)

episode 3 - episode 5

The team regroups and prepares for a new mission. Logan begins to learn Lorna's true identity.

warnings: heartbreak, language, crying, anger issues, suicide planing

✗

Five years later, Lorna woke up to perhaps the most eventful morning at the Academy. There was a little hustle and bustle, and a little excitement at being together again.

When she came downstairs, she heard Raven's voice.

“Logan talked to Betsy. She'll take care of Jubilation. I'm going straight to Kitty as we discussed. There's no change to that plan,” Lorna saw Raven talking to her uncle when she walked in. “After I pick up Kitty, I'll stop by Bevery Hills, pick up Betsy and Jubilation and return to the Academy, I'm guessing Emma and I will be here at the same time.”

Charles nodded his head in satisfaction and said, “Be careful. In case something goes wrong,”

“It's going to be fine, Charles, rest assured. But if things don't go our way, don't worry, I'll call for backup without delay, as we discussed!” Raven interrupted. Charles nodded as if convinced.

“Is Legion the backup team or me?” said Lorna, leaning over to plant a kiss on her uncle's cheek.

“Too bad we didn't think of you two troublemakers as backup, honey!” Raven said with an exaggerated gesture, rolled her eyes and left the room, saying she was going to get ready.

“Let's go over it one last time!”

“Logan, if we go through this one more time, I'll kill you and go alone! For God's sake, enough!”

“You're already used to it Lorna!”

Lorna and Logan were to leave for the All - In Casino in the evening. Anna Marie was in trouble with Bella Donna. Lorna had an old acquaintance with Bella and had specifically asked to go on this mission. She had just stabilized her powers, but that didn't stop her from settling her score with Bella. On top of that, if Bella was there, Remy was there. And since the 'Avengers' had brought back half the universe, Lorna absolutely had to talk to Remy.

Besides, their destination was the All- In Casino where Lorna used to work and even live. Before her uncle found Lorna and took her in, it was the All-In Casino, not the Academy, that Lorna called home. Lorna had never been proud of what she had done there, but she had never denied it either. She was a young woman trying to survive. On top of that, her father was the very famous Magneto. This had never made things easy for Lorna.

When she went up to her room to rest, Lorna was studying the files in her hand. It was only ten in the evening. In two hours they would be on the road. After a forty-five minute drive, they would be at the All-In Casino. Lorna would then use a code to let Logan and herself in as if they were there to gamble. After a round or two in the casino and gathering enough information, they would request a meeting with Bella and leave with Anna.

Of course this was the most positive scenario. Lorna knew that things would definitely turn ugly and it wouldn't be that easy. She had spent years in that shithole. And the most dangerous, filthiest people in the world would come and hang out there like it was legal. It was a casino for so-called anti-heroes or just bad “guys”. But there was a lot more going on inside than that. That's the way it's always been. That's what it was set up for. In the so-called casino, people were sold, states were divided, who would win wars was decided. Who would be the next president or who would be the “new Captain America” was decided there. Absolutely nothing was recorded. No cameras or microphones. There would be no need for them.

Since she had two hours to kill, Lorna thought, I'll get some sleep and then take a shower and get ready. After taking a nap for about half an hour, she got up from her bed to get into the shower. As she walked to the door opposite her bed, she remembered what had happened a few weeks ago.

As her thoughts raced through her mind at the same speed as the water flowing through her body, she shuddered at the breath she felt on the back of her neck and quickly turned around. Her body still hadn't gotten used to such sudden movements and when she grimaced in pain, the huge body behind her enveloped her and waited for her to calm down.

“I didn't mean to scare you. I came to see how you were doing.” He stroked her hair and placed a small kiss on her left shoulder.

After a murmur of understanding, she turned her face fully to the man behind her and nuzzled between his broad shoulders.

They listened to the silence for a while.

There was only the sound of running water and the faint sound of breathing.

Only for the woman, of course.

He heard much more, but all he cared about was the sound of the heartbeat of the body in his arms.

Remembering his fear when he couldn't hear them and couldn't feel her breath, he hugged her tighter.

“I'm sorry.”

“What? Why?” he couldn't hide the surprise in his voice.

She kept her face buried and continued to speak in a hoarse voice.

“For hurting you.” He let out a deep breath and pulled his head back.

“Lorn-”

"And for getting you wet.” She looked into his eyes with a small smile on her face. Seeing pain in those eyes was the thing he hated most.

“I guess I shouldn't have hugged you while I washed, Logan.” As her smile grew a little wider, he took the towel off the hook and wrapped it around her body, turning off the water, then lifted her out of the tub and carried her to the bed.

“Get ready, I don't want you stuck in this room any longer and the next time you want to bathe, let Raven know, you haven't fully recovered yet, what if you had blacked out and fallen! God Lorna!” the man breathed angrily, but his voice was too calm. Not what one would expect from him.

She stood up from her seat and placed her hands on his face. With one hand she played with the hair on the back of his neck and with the other with his beard.

“First of all, I got out of bed on my own because I was sure I wasn't having a seizure anymore.” He lingered in the man's eyes for a few seconds and then continued. “I can't call Raven every time I want to take a bath, everyone has a ton of work to do and I'm fine and you were here and as you can see I'm completely fine.”

“I'm here because I wanted to check on you because I felt like you didn't have anyone with you.”

“You're the only one I need to be with me, Logan, like you're the only one I want to feel.”

The young woman left a small but juicy kiss on the lips of the man whose arms she had wrapped around her. She felt him relax as the arms around her waist loosened. She continued to hate herself for the painful moans that escaped his lips as he returned her kiss.

He couldn't help but wonder when all this had happened in between. It felt like centuries had passed. After taking a quick shower, she sat on her bed in her bathrobe. After carefully combing her hair, she applied care oils and moisturizers. After quickly putting on her black lace underwear, she put on the dress she had arranged beforehand. After carefully drying her hair without fluffing it, she made the bun she wanted. She carefully pulled her bangs out of her bun. It took some effort but she was happy with the result. She quickly put her watch on her left wrist without forgetting it. They couldn't bring any tech gadgets in, so she couldn't check the time on her phone. Accurate timing was crucial to keep the plan on track, so she congratulated herself a few times for wearing her watch without forgetting it. She sat in front of the mirror and looked at her makeup. Normally she didn't wear a lot of makeup when she was at the Academy, but if she was going to the All-in Casino, she thought, I might as well reminisce a little about the past. After carefully applying her eyeliner on her eyelids, she thought for a moment. And then she drew a thin line on her lower eyelid. After looking at it for a while, she was absolutely satisfied with the look.

She quickly applied her gloss and mascara as Logan's voice reached her ears. After putting on her boots, she put on her rings. As she put her glasses in her bag, she was about to leave the room when she realized she wasn't wearing her necklaces and quickly grabbed the chains from the busboy and put them around her neck. It was five minutes past twelve when he descended the stairs with small but quick steps.

“Be late-” Legion was about to rub the five-minute delay in his face,

“Is that how you're coming?” interrupted Logan.

“Wow, L. You look just like you do,” Legion couldn't hide his admiration. “What?!” Lorna giggled, raising one eyebrow questioningly.

“Like the old Lorna. You definitely look like the old Lorna.” She took a step towards her sister, took her by the hand and spun her around. Legion continued to praise his brother, making noises of approval.

Logan was obsessed with one thing, the old Lorna.

Inside, Charles read the report one last time before the two left. There was no means of communication inside. And if Lorna's prediction was correct, they wouldn't be able to talk to Charles telepathically either. So everything had to be manual.

“-grew up alone and spent his childhood on the streets of New Orleans. He made his living as a thief. Despite this hard life, he managed to survive. Remy, who played a trick on almost everyone he came across and knew no limits in theft, one day tried to rob Jean Buc Beau, the leader of the Thieves Guild of the city of New Orleans, and Jean Buc Beau was very impressed by the little boy's captivity and self-confidence, as he took this job, risking that this attempt would end in failure.”

Logan was putting all the necessary equipment in the car while Charles was meticulously reading the information. Legion's eyes were on his sister.

“Remy has suffered so much in his life,” Lorna interrupted her uncle.

With that outburst, Logan stopped what he was doing and focused on the woman standing in front of him. He was looking at the old Lorna.

“Jean Buc's adopted Remy and gave him her last name. With that, Remy is now under the protection of one of the most dangerous underworld gangs in New Orleans.”

Unable to understand why the woman across from him was describing the life of a thief with tears in her eyes, Logan broke his own silence and spoke. “And what does this little orphan thief have to do with Anna or Bella that we've been hearing about his painful life all morning?” Was Logan jealous of Lorna? Maybe. But the young woman was too engrossed in her memories to realize that right now.

“You would have known if you'd bothered to listen to me! They filled not only your skeleton but also your brain with that metal junk, didn't they! Oh God!” Lorna slammed the car door in anger and slammed her heels hard on the floor as she went inside to retrieve the last bag.

Charles picked up where he left off.

He was aware of what had happened between his daughter and Logan, but he had never said anything about it. He knew there was no mad love between them. Even though Logan was a dear friend and Lorna was his daughter, they were good for each other, so he kept quiet about this 'thing' between them. Even though they had spent more time together over time, they had never said they were together. Lorna even had other boyfriends from time to time. Logan was more of a safe haven, a safe arm. Or just a skin match.

“As Remy's life began to improve, he quickly rose through the ranks of the guild. In New Orleans, in order to keep the peace between the Thieves' Guild and the Assassins' Guild, the greatest rival of the Thieves' Guild, it was agreed that Remy would marry Bella Donna Boudreaux, the granddaughter of the leader of the Assassins' Guild. However, Bella Donna's brother Julien opposed the arranged marriage and challenged Remy to a duel. At the end of the duel, Remy, trying to defend himself, killed Julien,”

Logan frowned at what he was listening to. He hadn't expected Remy to turn out to be Bella's ex-fiancé. Still, he didn't understand what this had to do with Anna.

Lorna came in and responded as if she could read Logan's mind. His anger seemed to have passed. At least a little bit.

“As much as the Assassins Guild wants revenge on Remy, Bella is still in love with Remy. She agrees to spare his life in exchange for their marriage. But Remy has never loved Bella. Remy and I at the casino,” Lorna tried to make sure she was choosing the right words. As bad as things were between her and Logan, she didn't want to break his heart. On top of that, her uncle was here. Even though he could look into the darkest corners of her mind, she didn't want to talk about it in front of him.

“You're ex-lovers, you had a great and undying love between you. So much so that the whole casino was talking about the passion between you,” Legion interjected without letting Lorna speak, and there was a small silence.

Logan's mouth opened in surprise at first, then he clenched his jaw and tried to hide his anger. Why was he getting angry? Did he have the right?

Charles was disturbed by Legion's intrusion into Lorna's mind. Even though he knew about it, he didn't like to hear it. Lorna was still a little girl to him.

Lorna raised her right hand slightly and wiggled her middle and index finger. A very thin green light came out of her hand. The light first reached the chain around her neck and then, in the blink of an eye, it left her neck and enveloped Legion's neck. Lorna's necklace was wrapped around Legion's neck with a beam of green light around it.

“If you try to get inside my head again, you dung beetle, I'll blow your ugly head off! You hear me!”

“S-sorry! Oh, my God! It's definitely the old Lorna back! You crazy bitch!”

“Watch your mouth, Legion!” Charles warned his son. Normally he would have strongly objected to what Lorna had done, but it was okay for Legion to learn a little lesson.

As she and Logan got into the car and drove off, Lorna rolled down her window and called out to her brother standing behind the car, referring to his action earlier.

“You didn't see that coming, did you?”

Smiling slyly, he entered through the window and leaned back

As he reached for the radio, he gave Logan a look as if to ask if it was okay. He looked at Lorna for a brief moment, shook his head 'no' and then turned back to the road.

Lorna smiled and sang along with the song as it came on. As they walked out of the gates of the Academy, she began to make her way home, leaving her house behind.

Logan kept thinking about what the old Lorna had been like.

"Maybe I should count my blessings That you're just that type So call me masochistic But sometimes, I want to fight (rah)

Every time I leave, you pull me closer I hang up the phone, you call me back Why don't you mess me 'round like you're supposed to? You're turning me cruel 'cause I'm just wanting you to react"

TAG LIST:

[thecursivej]

SOTU - 2024

Well, I'm forcing myself to watch the State of the Union while I grade speeches, so I figured I'd record my reactions and thoughts here.

Do I hope for the words "Immediate Ceasefire"? Absolutely. Will we get them? Looking at the track record, probably not. But I remain optimistic because otherwise I'd be six feet under by now; ANYWHO here is a list of my reactions/thoughts/general feelings of the evening's watch.

I do want to give a point of clarity: I technically am identified as a democrat; truly, I'm a socialist, but seeing as how the U.S. is stuck in this godforsaken two-party-system, that is where I am. Though both sides have me feeling very french-revolutionary-esque.

Of course the first thing I see if MTG rifling through her purse on screen. I quite literally despise her.

AP is discussing Ukraine's need for weapons and funding; I would truly rather us align with Ukraine than Isr@el. I will stand unapologetically firm for Palestine and Ukraine.

Who is actually in the cabinet? I know Blinken, Garland, and Buttiegeg. Damn, wish he was running again. Would rather have him than Biden.

How insane is it that the Sec. of Defense didn't even let the White House know that he had to go in for surgery because of cancer. Like, that's just bonkers to me.

Republicans truly look like fucking robots right now. No warm greetings, no hellos, simple nods.

Republicans out here wasting fucking time with that impeachment of Mayorkas. Like how about we house the homeless populations with the money they wasted on this circus.

Oh funky fresh look at the Ultra-Mormon(TM) Mitt Romney.

MTG with that stupid fucking MAGA hat on is just... disgusting. Like this bitch is crazy.

Okay Joe, speed it up down the fucking aisle please. I got papers to grade.

Lowkey Joe looks like he might have had a five-hour energy drink with that big-ole look in his eyes.

I do appreciate that Joe still smiles and is kind to MTG. She truly doesn't deserve it.

Okay this is getting just a wee bit too monarchy for me.

MTG holds up a button saying "Laken Riley..." (couldn't read the rest). Riley was a 14 year old girl murdered by a man who was an illegal immigrant of venezuela, and instead of handling this situation with grace, empathy, and love; MTG and others seem to be capitalizing on her death to push their anti-immigration rhetoric.

Okay, cool selfie skills Joe, but let's get on with it.

ALSO HOW IS JOE BIDEN GONNA BE SO IN DEPTH WITH TECH AND "Savvy" WITH IT WHEN MOTHERFUCKER WANTS TO BAN TIKTOK!? Hello?!

BERNIE AND RAPHAEL! I feel like I haven't seen these guys in 10 million years.

Oh thank god we're starting.

Aww the little hand shake thingy he does with Kamala makes my heart happy.

Did Joe just yell "tony"?!

Wow, even got some republicans clapping for him (probs not a good thing but here we are)

Okay, good bit of humor at the top; and a throwback to the 40s. Funky fresh.

Yeah we ain't living in ordinary times for damn sure.

Interesting point of democracy being attacked here in the U.S. AND Internationally. (Mentions Ukraine and Putin; no word on Gaza yet).

Someone busted out a Ukrainian flag and shook it; rock on.

OH SHIT HE GOT MIKE JOHNSON TO CLAP!

Appreciate the insistance that the U.S. won't send troops to UKR.

Good use of Reagan to connect with the Repubs; and compare to the predecessor (aka Tr*mp).

Mike Johnson nodding instead of clapping about the predecessor comment, trying to save his ass in Orange Man's eyes.

Welcome to NATO, Sweden!

If there is one thing that should connect Democrats and Republicans; it's hatred for Putin. Yet there's a mix of Repubs standing in agreement and sitting to back up the predecessor's comment on Putin doing "whatever the hell he wants"

Talking about Jan 6. What breaks my heart? My parents still believe it wasn't an insurrection. Yikes on Bikes for me.

The line "You can't love your country only when you win" hits hard and even got Mike Johnson to applaud in agreement.

Foreign AND Domestic. Need a hefty focus on that with the right-wing republican group (@ MTG, Gaetz, Cruz, etc.)

Discussing IVF in Alabama; good connection to the overturning of Rowe v. Wade. It sucks that Republicans HAVE THE POWER to protect IVF nationally but shot the damn bill down not even a week ago.

ABORTION IS A HUMAN RIGHT. BODILY AUTONOMY IS A HUMAN. FUCKING. RIGHT. (@ The Missouri Senators who support taking away bodily autonomy).

WOMEN AREN'T WITHOUT ELECTORAL AND POLITICAL POWER; WE ABOUT TO TURN UP IN FORCE MOTHERFUCKERS!!! Bring back the strats from the 1900s; time to use our power and go bonkers.

Someone get Joe a glass of water please. Motherfucker looks a bit parched and keeps coughing. I get that when my throat goes dryyy

Can Biden not restore RvW? Can he not by an executive order make RvW the law of the land already?

Revisiting COVID's start from 2020 (Next week is the four year anniversary since the global pandemic).

PFFT idk who just yelled "LIES" but that was comical AF.

Well, the pandemic still controls a big part of our lives... so...don't agree with that shit.

Man, everyone sitting-and-standing must be getting a HELLA calf work out.

Sure, unemployment is down and new jobs are built; but corporate greed is quite literally killing us. Can Congress or Biden do something, damn it?!

Are we beginning to feel it, though? Are we feeling good economics? I doubt we are.

Good job pointing out how both parties have failed to buy american products, but how this admin has established that.

There's a good two rows of Republicans who stand in applause; but the rest just... sit there. Like robots. It's freaky as fuck.

Joe is actually doing pretty great with the flow of this speech. Only a couple of stumbles, but overall pretty gucci. (He'd get a 9/10 on delivery in my public speaking class).

God these fuckers are really gonna make me run for office at this damn point.

Removing poisonous lead pipes... but there's still a water crisis in Flint, Biden. Like, what the fuckeroni do you mean?

Yes, let's invest in family farms; lets stop selling our farmland (especially in Missouri) to foreign countries (@ China buying up TONS of Missouri Farmland).

I love that the UAW president is here, because he straight up is my kind of people. Dude wears eat-the-rich shirts and calls out the unethical-ness of billionaires.

UAW President pointing to Biden saying "It's you!"; nah dawg, it's you Sean.

MIDDLE CLASS DID BUILD THE COUNTRY AND UNIONS BUILT THE MIDDLE CLASS MOTHER FUCKERS!!!

Yes we get back up but right now...we might be getting more french revolutionary-esque if y'all don't stop PLAYING WITH OUR LIVES.

Oh jesus not the 4-more-years chants.

Oh now we talking about the future

YES PLEASE END TRICKLE DOWN ECONOMIES.

Says he's not anti-corp; but points out how trickle down economics has only helped the wealthy.

Yeah, how the fuck does it hurt the wealthy to pay just a weeee bit more in taxes? Like dawg, what are you gonna do with another million? What's the point?

Ooooh is Biden about to rope the repubs into some bipartisan shit? Please do.

What is Republicans huge issue with capping insulin? Truly? Who does it harm? Billionaires still get billions.

[theculturedmarxist]

[...]

By any reasonable measure, the jury of Manhattanites who yesterday found former president Donald Trump guilty on all 34 charges did its job, and did it well.

They took on a civic duty from which many others fled; during jury selection, when Judge Juan Merchan allowed potential jurors who did not want to serve essentially to walk out the door, over half the assembled pool headed straight for the exits. The jurors sat through six weeks of testimony, they were by all accounts attentive throughout the trial, and they asked precise, insightful questions of the judge during deliberations. Nobody’s truly in position to say if the jury got it right or wrong; they saw the evidence and we didn’t — most of us, that is, including those like me who followed every line of testimony as it happened; there’s no substitute for seeing it play out live. Reasonable minds could have come out either way, and this jury found that the prosecution carried its burden of proof beyond a reasonable doubt. The jury’s work, and their verdict, deserve respect.

But that doesn’t mean that every structural infirmity around the Manhattan district attorney’s case has evaporated. Both of these things can be true at once: The jury did its job, and this case was an ill-conceived, unjustified mess. Sure, victory is the great deodorant, but a guilty verdict doesn’t make it all pure and right. Plenty of prosecutors have won plenty of convictions in cases that shouldn’t have been brought in the first place. “But they won” is no defense to a strained, convoluted reach unless the goal is to “win,” now, by any means necessary and worry about the credibility of the case and the fallout later.

The following are all undeniable facts.

The judge donated money — a tiny amount, $35, but in plain violation of a rule prohibiting New York judges from making political donations of any kind — to a pro-Biden, anti-Trump political operation, including funds that the judge earmarked for “resisting the Republican Party and Donald Trump’s radical right-wing legacy.” Would folks have been just fine with the judge staying on the case if he had donated a couple bucks to “Re-elect Donald Trump, MAGA forever!”? Absolutely not.

District Attorney Alvin Bragg ran for office in an overwhelmingly Democratic county by touting his Trump-hunting prowess. He bizarrely (and falsely) boasted on the campaign trail, “It is a fact that I have sued Trump over 100 times.” (Disclosure: Both Bragg and Trump’s lead counsel, Todd Blanche, are friends and former colleagues of mine at the Southern District of New York.)

Most importantly, the DA’s charges against Trump push the outer boundaries of the law and due process. That’s not on the jury. That’s on the prosecutors who chose to bring the case and the judge who let it play out as it did.

The district attorney’s press office and its flaks often proclaim that falsification of business records charges are “commonplace” and, indeed, the office’s “bread and butter.” That’s true only if you draw definitional lines so broad as to render them meaningless. Of course the DA charges falsification quite frequently; virtually any fraud case involves some sort of fake documentation.

But when you impose meaningful search parameters, the truth emerges: The charges against Trump are obscure, and nearly entirely unprecedented. In fact, no state prosecutor — in New York, or Wyoming, or anywhere — has ever charged federal election laws as a direct or predicate state crime, against anyone, for anything. None. Ever. Even putting aside the specifics of election law, the Manhattan DA itself almost never brings any case in which falsification of business records is the only charge.

Standing alone, falsification charges would have been mere misdemeanors under New York law, which posed two problems for the DA. First, nobody cares about a misdemeanor, and it would be laughable to bring the first-ever charge against a former president for a trifling offense that falls within the same technical criminal classification as shoplifting a Snapple and a bag of Cheetos from a bodega. Second, the statute of limitations on a misdemeanor — two years — likely has long expired on Trump’s conduct, which dates to 2016 and 2017.

So, to inflate the charges up to the lowest-level felony (Class E, on a scale of Class A through E) — and to electroshock them back to life within the longer felony statute of limitations — the DA alleged that the falsification of business records was committed “with intent to commit another crime.” Here, according to prosecutors, the “another crime” is a New York State election-law violation, which in turn incorporates three separate “unlawful means”: federal campaign crimes, tax crimes, and falsification of still more documents. Inexcusably, the DA refused to specify what those unlawful means actually were — and the judge declined to force them to pony up — until right before closing arguments. So much for the constitutional obligation to provide notice to the defendant of the accusations against him in advance of trial. (This, folks, is what indictments are for.)

In these key respects, the charges against Trump aren’t just unusual. They’re bespoke, seemingly crafted individually for the former president and nobody else.

The Manhattan DA’s employees reportedly have called this the “Zombie Case” because of various legal infirmities, including its bizarre charging mechanism. But it’s better characterized as the Frankenstein Case, cobbled together with ill-fitting parts into an ugly, awkward, but more-or-less functioning contraption that just might ultimately turn on its creator.

Trump will appeal, as is his right, and he’s certain to contest the inventive charges constructed by the DA. I won’t go so far as to say an appeals court is likely to overturn a conviction — New York law is broad and hazy enough to (potentially) allow such machinations — but he’s going to have a decent shot at a reversal.

“No man is above the law.” It’s become cliché, but it’s an important point, and it’s worth pausing to reflect on the importance of this core principle. But it’s also meaningless pablum if we unquestioningly tolerate (or worse, celebrate) deviations from ordinary process and principle to get there. The jury’s word is indeed sacrosanct, as I learned long ago. But it can’t fix everything that preceded it. Here, prosecutors got their man, for now at least — but they also contorted the law in an unprecedented manner in their quest to snare their prey.

This article originally appeared in the free CAFE Brief newsletter. You can find more analysis of law and politics from Elie Honig, Preet Bharara, Joyce Vance, and other CAFE contributors at CAFE.com

[uglypastels]

For the spotify thing

Eddie Munson friends to lovers smut. I'm a sucker for idiots in love lol

Watermelon Sugar (or if that has been taken Carolina would also be great because who wouldn't swoon at Eddie calling them a good girl)

- @eddiesprincess86

ok so I got another request, "for the spotify wrapped event can you do carolina with eddie munson? 🫶🏻" so I guess I'm killing two birds with one stone doing this one. i had this idea and it turned into... I'm not sure what this is but I'm vibing and i hope its fun. (i know you requested smut, and I'm sorry I didn't include it, sorry </3)

no explicit warnings. reference to drugs and alcohol, no consumption tho

Spotify Wrapped Blurb event > send in a request! (masterlist)

You knew you were in trouble when his eyes met yours across the room. Trying not to pay him too much attention, putting your anxieties aside, you put all your focus on the people around you. Join in on the conversation. Pretend as if you belong. 

But no matter how well you merged in with the crowd, he could tell. After all, it was his album release party you were crashing. 

To your surprise, he didn’t call for security. Instead, he walked over to you, drink in hand. Leaning against the bar, he asked away from everyone else: ‘Now, how did you get in here, sweetheart?’ 

‘Sorry?’ you gave a shot at playing dumb, but it didn’t fool him. 

‘How did you get in?’ He asked a bit louder, not sternly or with anger, just to get his voice above the music. He was amused. ‘Bribed the guards, did we?’ 

‘I have my ways.’ Was all you said, looking up at him from above your crystal glass. At this point, you knew you were safe. He wasn’t going to do anything. 

‘What’s your name?’ he asked, so you told him. Then he tried to introduce himself: ‘I’m Eddie.’  

‘I know,’ you stated it. Of course, you knew him. Not even because you were a huge fan of his music. But everyone knew the lead singer of Corroded Coffin… whether they wanted to or not. 

You took another sip of your drink. Neat whisky. Eddie watched the liquid drain out of the glass, expecting you to flinch from the burn of it, yet being heavily disappointed. ‘Don’t worry,’ you assured him, ‘I can handle a bit of fun.’ And you certainly held up to that promise. 

Eddie barely left your side that night. To this day, he jokes about how it was for the sake of safety that he was just keeping an eye on you. “Damage control” or “making sure you didn’t steal anything”. 

Yes, years went by, and somehow your lives merged. Some would call it friendship. Any time you had the chance to see each other, which was a rare occurrence considering Eddie's busy rockstar lifestyle (that you constantly teased him about, naturally), you were at each other’s side. Most often, that meant that you would meet him at the studio when the band was recording. It was one of those days, but slightly different. 

You had never seen the guys be this distraught. The worst possible thing had happened— writer’s block. 

The instruments were left astray as all four band members were losing hope of their new record. Eddie still had his guitar on his lap but had stopped torturing himself by playing one failed riff after another. 

When they were in their “thinking zone”, you always made sure not to interrupt, not wanting to accidentally stop the creative juices from flowing, but seeing them torture themselves like this… you couldn’t do it. So, you got up and announced it was time for a break. 

‘We don’t need a break, we need ideas,’ Eddie groaned, spinning around in his chair, head hung back so he could stare up at the ceiling. 

‘Who knows, maybe some tacos will be the muse you have been looking for, now c’mon,’ you pulled his arm as hard as you could, but in the end, it was his own free will to get up that got Eddie moving. You dragged him to the kitchen, where the rest of the band had already assembled. ‘The tacos might have been a bad idea,’ you said once you realised there really was not enough food in the house to cook. ‘But– oh fuck,’ you opened a cupboard just to be greeted with an avalanche of pots. Before the stainless steel hit you in the face, Gareth caught the biggest pot just in time, stopping everything else from falling– minus one lid that made an incredible ruckus, possibly heard through the entire neighbourhood. 

‘Is it just me or did that sound kind of good,’ Gareth hit the lid again, looking up at the rest of the band. 

‘Did you take something? How many times did I tell you guys, don’t fucking trip before–’ 

‘No I’m not high, asshole,’ Gareth called Eddie out. ‘Just– wait.’ He searched around frantically through the other drawers before finding a large wooden spoon and banging it across the pan that almost knocked one of your teeth out a minute before. ‘Imagine this as, like, a backing track.’ It was a hollow metal sound. Not very melodic, but loud. Gareth kept on slamming the spoon on the pot like a maniac as the rest of the band looked at him as you watched them from the side. Seeing them at work was always fascinating, but this… well, this was one for the history books, especially when Gareth grabbed another pan and started to figure out how to use the different utensils to make different sounds. 

‘Fuck, man.’ Eddie sighed, his hand rubbing out the stress from his face, ‘i hate how good that sounds.’ Oh yeah, he was getting ideas. Or perhaps not, because the next thing you know, the lead of the band leaves the kitchen. There is an awkward pause where none of you know what to do until Eddie comes back, guitar on his shoulder. 

‘Do that shit again,’ he tells Gareth. 

‘Please, no need for such formalities.’ Gareth rolls his eyes but resumes his little kitchen orchestra. Eddie listens intently before strumming his first chord; slowly, he builds on it.  

And not just a melody. He’s humming. Words started to appear from the soft humming, and before you knew it, he sang a whole verse– more or less. It was still very much a work in progress, so most of the lyrics were half-mumbled as he still was figuring out the perfect phrasing.

‘Where did that come from?’ you asked, stunned at how easily the words came to him. The writer’s block from before seemed to have disappeared entirely. 

‘Just something I kept on the back log.’ He said, not fazed much. ‘Work in progress.’

‘I like it,’ you said. Not that it mattered much. You were merely an invited spectator in these sessions, but surely some praise could always be somewhat appreciated from time to time. Eddie seemed to think so, at least, as he smiled sheepishly, glancing down at his guitar. He never needed to look at the strings as he played anymore, and yet now he couldn’t look away from the instrument. 

‘Does this mean that we have to write all our songs in the kitchen from now on?’ Jeff quipped. 

‘Oh, god no, it smells here of old take-out.’ Eddie commented. ‘Just grab what you need, and we can finish this up… if you guys are into it.’ There were no objections to the plan, so you quickly helped Gareth bring all the pots and pans into the living room, where they had all their writing stuff set up. 

The next few hours were spent figuring out how to incorporate everything they wanted into something coherent, but unfortunately, nothing seemed to work anymore. Maybe the kitchen was the best place to work, after all? 

‘This isn’t working,’ Eddie was about to pull his hair out. ‘We can’t do it all at the same time.’ but at the same time, to remove any of the elements they had come up with would completely change the song, which they were not prepared to do. One thing you learned about the band: they were some of the most talented and most stubborn mutherfuckers in the industry. Once they had their mind set on something, there was no going back. So the damn pans would stay, and they would sound amazing. No matter the cost. 

There was a long silence, the longest that had occurred since the morning, as everyone in the room tried to think of some solution. It felt silly, but even you tried to think of something, just wanting to help out. 

Eddie called out your name almost as if he could read your mind. ‘Come here, sweetheart.’ You got up from your chair, awaiting further instructions, but those were directed at Gareth. ‘Show her how to hit the beat.’

‘What?’ you asked, confused. Last time you checked, you had no musical bone in your body, and you were just here for moral support and to make sure the guys didn’t kill each other or themselves out of frustration (let’s be honest, mostly Eddie. He could be quite a lot to handle sometimes). 

‘We need more hands on deck if we want to make this work now.’ 

And that’s how you played a very simple beat on the drums for the band. It was enough for now, as they got through the rest of the writing. It was pretty fun, but you did still manage to mess up a few times. No one gave you a hard time for it. All they focused on was the stuff you did manage to do. It was Eddie’s turn to praise you at one moment when you got through the entire song without any mistakes.

Taking a small break, he came up to you as the rest of the band had gone off to do their things for a moment. 

‘Thanks for helping us out.’ 

‘Pretty sure I’m doing more damage than good,’ you laughed. ‘Wouldn’t it be better for me to hit the pans?’ 

‘It’s Gareth’s vision, so unless you’re prepared to get into all that…’ he smiled, ‘but you’re doing great.’ 

‘True, just don’t get angry if I keep messing up.’ 

‘I would never.’ Eddie fake pouted, ‘not at my good girl.’ the words branded you from the inside, sparking up something that froze you for a moment. When you looked back up at him, Eddie had a wide smirk on his lips. Jeff had just walked back into the room carrying a beer, so Eddie leaned in closer to you to keep your conversation private. ‘Besides, seeing you hit it like that, it’s kind of hot.’ 

‘Shut up,’ you dug your elbow into his ribs playfully. 

‘That won’t be possible, I’m afraid.’ Eddie said, and he was right, since you still had a few hours of work ahead of you before the band called it a night. The house they were using to write at was rented, with enough rooms for all the band members to have their own, so once sleep called, they all disappeared behind their doors, leaving you and Eddie alone. 

‘Next time, I promise we’ll go somewhere. Just us.’ He huffed out, and sunk back into the couch. 

‘Oh, I had fun.’  You smiled, sitting down next to him. 

‘And I’m glad, but I would much rather spend my time with you and actually being with you.’ 

‘Next time then,’ you agreed to his earlier promise. ‘But I’m happy to see you guys managed to get out of that writer’s block.’ 

‘Yeah, it was… something. I’m still not sure about it all. What do you think?’ Eddie lazily pulled you into his lap, placing his chin on your shoulder. 

‘It’s great. Well, the pots and pans strategy is for sure…  interesting but I think you guys have something amazing brewing here. I just…’ you bit the inside of your cheek. 

‘What?’ He sounded so tired. The long day was finally draining him out. 

‘I just… can’t help but think some of it sounds a bit familiar.’ You quickly clarified: ‘some of the lyrics, especially the one about sneaking into parties, the drinking, the…. Other stuff.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ The little kiss he left on your arm sent a shock through your body. 

‘No, of course not. Maybe it’s just deja vu or something.’ 

‘Must be.’ 

‘Mhm,’ you agreed, and yet couldn’t help but giggle at the idea of Eddie having a song in his back pocket about the day you met. 

thank you so much for reading!! please let me know what you thought and don't be shy to comment and reblog <3 or leave an anonymous review behind here :)

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@spiderrrling @theglitterymess @dorianelizabeth @theletterhart @niyahwhoreworld @chatnoirfangirl1624 @fopdoodle1624 @pastel-abyss-x @ghoulsgraveyard @prettytoxix @lovesickollie @xbreezymeadowsx @ssanjuniperoo @nxrdamp @meaganjm @yourmommilf @mischiefmanagers @roseyykris @capybergara @brother-lauren @h0sh1verse @ghostlyreads @croweaterr @ladyapplejackdnd @bilesxbilinskixlahey @kbakery @sleeping-willlow @lizzylynch1 @liltimmyst @hellfire-state-of-mind @escape-in-time-blog @miscelaa @sweetpeapod @the-a-word-2214 @eddiemunsonbby @wh0re4munson @eddiesdingus @zoeyquinn94 @munsonmunchies @overthewhiteclouds @wroteclassicaly @groupies-do-it-better @stitchity @celestialsxturn @hoe4eddiemunson @inanausomewhere @witchyrivers @scoops-harrington @fluffyharrington

[beetlesau]

SoulBox

BakugoXreader

2.2k words, f!reader, ummmm, not proofread- not now not eva.

no warnings as of now other than I make this stuff up as I go and I am sorry. OH! so the quirk I've given reader is basically the dash from Hollow Knight, a really cute fun indie game. Just expanded on that it's a sort of fast travel, but not a warp quirk since those are really rare. Good stealth quirk.

---------------------------------------------------- Chapta 1 The Wrapper

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

When you were younger, you dreamed of meeting your soulmate and living happily ever after.

A girl in your class, Koya, who had just turned five, got her quirk one day and her SoulBox the very next.

Her parents threw her a party to celebrate the following weekend. Everyone in the class was there.

You anxiously waited to see what her box looked like after all the parents fawned over her flashy quirk.

A couple of other girls, thankfully, were also more interested in the box. Once your small group of girls could pull Koya away, you all huddled in her elaborate princess fort.

"Well? Can we see it?"

"Was it expensive?"

"HAVE YOU--"

"Shhh!"

"Sorry. Have you written a letter yet?"

The anticipation had you all bursting at the seams.

The SoulBox.

A trademarked name for the selling of *usually* a box. Of course, any hollow and closed vessel would do when it came to communication with your soulmate(s), but leave it to the money-hungry to find a way to sell love.

Boxes come in many shapes and sizes, different colors, different textures, boxes with screw-on lids or slide-on, boxes with locks, whatever your heart desired, there was likely a box for it.

What's the box about, you might ask?

Well, as stated, it's a way to communicate with your soulmate(s).

Someone takes a letter, a note, or a small trinket, and places it inside their vessel. The key to creating a SoulBox is intent. You desire to speak with your soulmate, you focus as you place your first letter inside your vessel, or box in this day and age, and tada! you have your communication device. A two-way street between you and the love of your life!

The fortunate thing for companies that specialize in sales of SoulBoxes is banking on the number of people who want a new box every year.

Why soulmate(s) you wonder? How can there be more than one? Why not keep the same box every year? What, people want holiday boxes? Limited edition?

(Well, yes. Some people DO obsess over the newest box design.)

But, you see, the idea of a soulmate is what's being sold. The REALITY is that there are a certain number of people throughout the world that can be your person.

There are no "perfect matches." There are only choices.

When someone buys a box and puts their intent into it, they get connected with one of the many picks the universe has provided just for them.

If they decide they are happy, they keep their box, and the two can meet and spend their lives together.

If not, well, that's where the money lies.

If you decide, for whatever reason, the person on the other end of your box does not meet your needs any longer. You simply need to destroy the box. Only then can you reclaim another one, and the universe connects you to a different match.

The highest record so far for most SoulBoxes bought is a whopping 82.

(He was a wealthy middle-aged man who never learned to be content and happy with what life's given him, but this isn't about him.)

No, this is about you.

You watched as Koya pulled out a little pink glittering box, her name embroidered on the side in purple letters. The way you could tell it was expensive had you swooning. An expensive pretty princess box to match her expensive pretty princess lifestyle. 

It wasn't exactly something you gave much thought to yourself, but you'd overheard your mother gossiping on one of your playdates. She said since Koya's father was a 'big wig' at the SoulBox corp. that that would mean she'd be in the media spotlight for the rest of her life, an example that the Box works. She also said that she felt sorry for her because of it, although to you, it sounded like the best thing in the world. The box would work for you, and you'd be delighted to have the world see you happy with the love of your life. 

Nothing in your life mattered until the day your quirk finally manifested a whopping forty-three days after your fifth birthday. Yes, you were counting. 

Your parents congratulated you on your ability to 'phase through walls' who cares. Your body's cells broke apart into their tiniest little forms in a haze of black as you could dash from one spot to another in less than a second. Had you been at all interested, you would have acknowledged the beauty and practicality of it. All you could think about was getting your first SoulBox.

Your mother assured you that just because you got your quirk did not mean you had to get your box, and that Koya's situation was not the standard. 

You can recall crying for three days straight after hearing that. 

Your parents debated one night, weighing the pros and cons of getting you a box so early in your life. 

An agreement was made if you promised to follow their rules for communicating with whoever you found on the other end of the box. 

One, NO personal information was to be shared. They didn't need to know where you lived and you didn't need to know that about them. 

Two, NO talking to your SoulMate for more than thirty mins a day. It wasn't healthy to obsess over someone at such a young age. (Or any age for that matter.)

Three, any and all conversation was to be monitored and supervised by a parent. 

You agreed vehemently to all conditions. 

At long last, on a Monday, at three-twenty-five in the afternoon, after she picked you up from work, your mother took you to the local SoulBox shop.

You could hardly breathe as you took in the sights around you. The month was coming up close to yet another holiday and the shop had just transitioned its decor to match. You found a display of every color box you could imagine stacked in a brilliant pyramid. Next to that were a dozen cubbies that held accessories to match. Glitter pens, scented paper, and keychains that could attach to your pen or box if you bought a specially made one. There were jelly box covers, furry and fuzzy ones, every little child's dream could be found in this shop you felt like. In another corner were the Hero-themed boxes. A cardboard cutout of All-Might stood front and center to entice little ones to check out the collection there. 

"Oh dear." your mother muttered under her breath. 

She didn't understand the appeal, she had never had a box. She met your father the old-fashioned way as she called it, and had never needed one. You fantasized that even if she had had a box, it would have led her to your father regardless. 

You picked up a box, one slightly larger than the one Koya had received for her birthday, and held it up to your mother. 

"I love this one! Please, mommy!?"

Your mother took the box and examined it. You watched as her eyes grew large and her mouth contorted into a pencil-thin line when she saw the price tag. 

"I'm so sorry sweety... Uh, perhaps you could look in the discount bin for mommy?" she looked down at you sadly.

You knew that look. A look that told you she was disappointed in herself for the things she could provide for you, or the lack thereof. 

You hated that look. 

You may have wanted a box more than anything in the world, but you never, not once, wanted your parents to feel like you were ungrateful for whatever they could provide to you. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat that yearned for the shiny new box, put on a smile, and nodded excitedly. "Okay!" you stated before running off the find said bin. 

Now, as a child, no one would have described you as quiet. You loved frilly fabrics and bright colors. You loved all that glowed and shined. Sure, you mostly grew out of that by the time we get to the present day, but in that store, you were all things soft and fuzzy. 

Which is why your mom was a bit shocked when you picked out the box you did. 

As you dug through the bin of disorganized boxes, many bent or dented, crooked and scuffed, some with the wrong lid or missing one altogether, your eyes caught something. 

You reached your short little arms to the max as your fingertips barely caught hold of it at the bottom of the bin. 

It was an off-white cream color. A box made cheaply enough that in a few years, it would turn an unappealing shade of faded yellow like parchment paper. You held it in your hands. It was small, barely larger than a rubix's cube. It even had a small dent in one of its corners. 

By all rights, it was hideous. 

But it was the only one in the bin that had that off-white color, and that meant something to you. 

Sure, it didn't matter what box you chose. Once you put intent in any container you get connected with a preordained Soul. But that didn't stop the gut feeling you had. The connection to the box. 

They say when you feel that connection to a box, your connected Soulmate is truly the one. (They say that to sell more boxes, but you believed it.)

The chosen runt of the litter box was so cheap the cashier slipped a keychain in the bag that was free after spending a certain higher amount in-store. 

"Might as well get something decent out of this purchase." she chuckled to your mom, waving you off and bidding you a wonderful day. 

Finally. At long last. You sat at your kitchen table, and your parents sat on either side of you, waiting for your first message to be sent. 

....

....

"I can't think of anything to say." you sighed, exasperated after a while. 

"Why not start with a simple, 'Hello'?" your father asked. 

"!!! Dad no! It's my Soulmate! It has to be perfect. The perfect message." you fussed at him like it was obvious.

He opened his mouth, brows furrowed, then let out a held breath. "Alright, suppose you're right." he gave up, shaking his head. There was no arguing with you, his little girl. 

After an eternity, your parents shared a look, then decided maybe they could relent on one of their rules, just this once. 

"Um, sweetie, I know we said you could only communicate with supervision, but mm it is getting kind of late. Maybe you could take the box with you to your room and that'll help you come up with the perfect thing to say, hm?"

After all, what amount of trouble could two children get into at this young age over a box? 

You held the box tightly in your hands as you stared up at the ceiling. 

You tried to imagine who would be on the other side. 

You wanted them to have dark hair. 

Kind eyes, like your dad's. You loved the freckles that your mom passed on to you, so you hoped they would have lots of them too. 

Without a doubt, they would be the kindest person you'd ever meet. 

Suddenly you got an idea. You bolted upright, turning to search your nightstand for the bag your box had come in. 

Inside was still the little keychain that was given to you. You examined it, turns out it was a little All-Might New Year Holiday Special Costume edition keychain. It wasn't rare by any means, but it had that year's date stamped on it in a way that made it look like the hero was holding it above his head. 

It was perfect. 

What better way to say hello than to send the nation's top hero? His popular video online was even him saying "I am here." which is exactly the message you wanted to send!

Proudly you placed the keychain in the box, elated by the way it fits perfectly inside. 

You then held the box to your chest and shut your eyes so tight you could see stars behind your eyelids. 

"Intent. Intent. Intent." you chanted under your breath. "I hope this finds you well," you repeated something your mom suggested to you earlier at the table to help the connection form. 

After several moments you finally relinquished your death grip on the box and opened it back up. 

The surprise and excitement hit you at once when you saw that the keychain was gone, and was instead replaced by a crumpled-up wad of chewing gum paper. 

Eagerly taking the paper you were sure there would be a note of great value written on what would normally be trash turned treasure. 

Confusion replaced excitement when you found it to be blank.

It was just... a wrapper. It was just trash? Maybe it was an accident. Maybe they were so excited they dropped their trash in by mistake and .... put the lid on their box... and.. sent... uh, SOMETHING happened by mistake. That was all. You would wait for another message. 

You hopped out of bed and pulled your little toy jewelry box from your messy closet, where inside you found a locket necklace your mom had let you borrow once. (You were still borrowing it, you told yourself)

You placed the gum wrapper inside the locket and put the necklace on. 

You slept with it around your neck. 

Maybe it was trash, but in your eyes, it was the first message of many to come.

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter II: Like A Lover, Not A Dancer

masterlist | playlist | chapter I

summary: Your album release show goes off without a hitch. For you, at least.

tags/warnings: rockstar!reader x rockstar!gn!afab!reader, mention of reader having boobs (feel free to skip that), slow burn, pining, angst, steve is impartial and the bestest best friend forever. mentions of blood/bruises/injury (non specific)

a/n: please don’t hate me i swore i’d make this one a Real slow burn but idk how imma do that without taunting us all. Please reblog to support the author!

Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated.

Eddie’s POV

Pacing the length of his living room, Eddie talks aloud, mostly to himself, while his band mates sit along the couch, unsure how to help him out of his spiral.

“How am I supposed to mentally prepare for this? This is the biggest tour of our lives, and it’s with the one person capable of throwing me off my game. The one person that knows all of my weaknesses, everything that makes me tick. How am I supposed to be the person everyone thinks I am? They’re gonna see right through that shit.” He pivots to face his friends, and none of them can make eye contact. “Suggestions would be super appreciated right now!”

Gareth speaks then, timidly, “Ed, man, they probably feel the same way. You know all there is to know about Y/n. You’re both gonna go to extreme lengths to avoid each other just to realize neither of you have anything to worry about.”

“Yeah, my bet is you’ll be talkin’ like old friends within the first week.” Jeff chimes in. The two chuckle, until they see the expression on Eddie’s face. His lips are pressed together in a thin line, his eye twitching slightly as he attempts to keep his composure. “It’s true!” Jeff throws his hands above his head in surrender.

“Don’t get my hopes up like that, man. They broke up with me, ‘member? ‘Course ya do, I slept on your couch for a month when it happened.” His words wipe the smile from his friends’ faces. “I can’t walk around hoping and praying they’ll want anything to do with me. That can’t be who I am.” Eddie flops into the recliner across from them, defeated.

-

Your POV

You land in LA at 2:00PM, and are immediately rushed into a rental car, courtesy of Elektra Records. You’d been to California only once before, when you and Eddie had hit a restless phase and took a road trip to visit Will and El.

Now, though, instead of a big, dirty van, you’re in a sleek town car, on your way to The fucking Roxy to attend your band’s album release party. It feels like every sacrifice you’d made in the last two years finally makes sense! The planets have aligned, and you’re on the right path, or whatever the fuck. So why does your heart still hurt?

Robin grabs your hand, yanking you from your inner monologue. “We’re in LA, baby!” She’s hand in hand with Lilith, and Sylvie’s tucked into your left side. Steve pivots from the front seat to address you. “The party starts at ten tonight, be ready by seven. Call my room if you guys need anything, I’ll call when you have an hour left.”

You have to commend him, he’s got the mom thing down. “Yessir.” You all nod in unison, stifling the very laughter that kids would bite back after a mother’s lecture. But you appreciate him, there’s a reason you wanted him taking care of you. “Your performance is scheduled for ten thirty, we probably have fifteen, twenty minutes of leeway there though.”

Your smile is practically smacked from your face. “Our what?”

Steve looks up from his itinerary, matching your expression. “Did- did no one tell you?”

“I figured you told them!” Sylvie accuses, and Robin nods. You can perform on a whim, far over your stage fright after the hell you’d gone through. Performing has become cathartic, and you love a big audience. But Eddie was going to be in that crowd, and for some reason that scared the shit out of you.

“You’ll be fine! It’s not a full set, just three from the new album, bing bang boom you’re cutting a cake with your face on it.” He slaps his hands together to emphasize his point. As if on cue, the car pulls up to the hotel you’ll be staying at, and the doorman approaches to help with your bags.

-

You and Robin are sharing a room, spending the afternoon letting all your stress out as you prepare for the night.

“I just don’t get it!” You say for what feels like the hundredth time that day. “Why wouldn’t they tell us sooner?”

“My only theory,” Robin begins before blowing on her freshly painted nails, “Is that they know your history, and knew you’d try to back out if they told you. But how would they?”

They wouldn’t, you think, not to your knowledge. You never mention Hawkins, but you know Eddie does. Has he brought you up? You shake your head, shooing the thought away. “Whatever, nothing we can do now!” You pick a few clothing articles out of your suitcase, turning to Robin. “Which one?”

She smirks. “You know Eddie’s gonna be there, right?”

You shrug. “So?”

“So!” She catapults herself off the bed, taking the tight black dress between her fingers. “These will drive him fucking nuts! And I know you know that.”

You feign ignorance. Of course you’d thought about that, but why should it matter? “We’re broken up, Robin. This isn’t about him. Now which one am I gonna ruin tonight?” You hold each one up to you in the full length mirror. “The red one seems like a little too much,” You mumble, “But the black one is super nice on the melons.” You gesture to your chest, snickering.

It pulls a giggle out of Robin. “Definitely the black one, then.” She nods feverishly, and you mimic her movements, a grin stretching your mouth open.

-

Eddie’s POV

The joint burns in his fingers, dangerously close to singeing his hair before he snuffs it out in the ashtray. The California breeze is warm, inviting, but Eddie’s mood can’t be lifted even by the nice weather. He reluctantly returns from the patio, slamming the screen door behind him, causing Gareth to wince. “You alright, man?”

Eddie glares at his friend, who huffs a response. “You gotta get over it, Ed. Be professional, all that shit.” Gareth shrugs his jacket over a red and black flannel. “It’s not a big deal. You’re coworkers.”

“I guess,” Eddie sighs, pulling his boots on, tying the laces tightly. He swipes his hotel key from the bedside table, and follows Gareth to the elevator.

When he reaches the lobby, he stops dead in his tracks. Ten feet in front of him, behind his band mates, you stand with your own. You’re wearing a black dress with a denim jacket layered over it, and heavy black boots. Your hair falls to your shoulders, the color bright and impossible to miss. It takes all of his strength not to turn and run, but somehow he manages to stay put.

Jeff approaches him slowly, slapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’re good, man.” His voice is tired, and it’s only the first night of a very long three months ahead. Eddie nods, ripping his eyes from the back of your head. You don’t turn around, but the tensing of your shoulders tells him you know he’s behind you. He follows behind his bandmates, stalking out of the hotel room and into the car behind the one you enter.

-

Your POV

You can feel his eyes on you even after you get in the car. Sylvie puts a comforting hand on your shoulder as Robin grasps your free hand. You’re so grateful for your support system, you just wish you didn’t need it so much.

You zone out for the drive, trying your best not to think about the events lined up for tonight. More so, you’re trying not to think about how you’ll avoid Eddie all night. At your own party. That he’s attending.

Your legs start to bounce as the driver pulls around the back of The Roxy. The stage manager greets you at the door as Corroded Coffin pulls up behind you. You don’t dare glance over your shoulder, ignoring every urge to look at Eddie, and immediately let your guard down.

Instead, you part ways to your separate green rooms. Even though CC isn’t performing tonight, you assume they need the space to get away from rabid fans. It makes you slightly bitter, watching them get special treatment on a night that’s supposed to belong to you.

Lilith throws herself onto the couch in the corner. “So, I took the liberty of inspecting Eddie’s demeanor so you didn’t have to.” She taunts, crossing one stockinged leg over the other.

You pivot to face your drummer, a look of what you hope is confusion written on your face. “What?” She asks innocently. “You know I’m nosey! Anyway, he was doing everything in his power not to look at you. He caught me once.”

You chuckle. “Maybe he’ll think you’re into him and move on.” You turn back to the mirror, reapplying your blood red lipstick.

“Oh, shut up!” Lilith chucks a bottle cap at you, but it lands short. “I know you’re still into him.”

“I am not!” You really aren’t sure. You haven’t spoken in two years, mostly to make sure you didn’t give back in to him. You didn’t trust your own willpower.

“Five minutes, ladies!” A stagehand peeks her head through the doorway. You and Sylvie exchange an eye roll at her assumption. It doesn’t shake you, or even offend you, being called a lady, or a woman. You know it’s not meant as an insult, but if people would just listen to your music, it’s not that hard to understand.

The DJ set ends, and he plays Sonic Youth’s Kool Thing as your walk out music, and you relish in the way the lyrics resonate: Kool Thing sittin' with a kitty / Now you know you're sure lookin' pretty / Like a lover not a dancer / Superboy take a little chance here / I don't want to, I don't think so / I don't want to, I don't think so. You peek around the corner from backstage, into a crowd of teens and young adults, some wearing your shirts, most of them already sweating.

When the song ends, the house lights dim, and the crowd gets impossibly louder. Robin throws her bass over her head, and gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Ready to knock ‘em dead?”

You smile at her, and extend it to the rest of your band. The four of you huddle together.

“Okay, guys. This is it. How we do tonight is an indication of how the tour is gonna go. Now, WHO ARE WE?”

“DEATH DANCE APPROXIMATELY!”

“I SAID, ‘WHO ARE WE?!’”

“DEATH DANCE APPROXIMATELY!”

You chant together, hyping yourselves up, building to an excited babble of voices overlapping. You grab your own guitar from a stagehand, and the four of you walk on to the stage to greet a screaming crowd.

-

Eddie’s POV

His eyes don’t leave you as you make your walk to your microphone. Your dress hugs every dip and curve of your body, leaving nothing to the imagination, not that Eddie has to imagine any of it. Your lips are dark, blood red, and your hair glows under the colorful lights. Your boots are thick, platform heels that lift you an extra three inches off the ground, giving the impression that you’d stomp out anyone that crosses you. Your skin is littered with tattoos, plenty more than the last time he saw you. They cover your arms and legs, heavy lines and bright colors. You look like an art piece, one Eddie could spend the rest of his life admiring.

He doesn’t recognize the song you open with, knowing it’s a new one off the album due to be released at midnight. Your voice hooks him in anyway; raspy, sounding angry, hurt, and like you’re singing right to him. Every fight you’d ever had with him, every night you’d wept in his arms, it’s all expelling from you on that stage, and he can’t help swimming in the pain it causes him.

Eddie gets it, the way a show can calm him in an instant, he can get every piece of aggression out of him without hurting anyone else. Watching you perform for the first time since breaking up is hypnotic, making his heart skip around erratically. He turns to the bartender. “Make it a double,” he calls over the music.

“What the fuck is up, LA?!” You scream when you finish your first song, and the crowd responds with shrieks. “We are Death Dance Approximately, and it’s lovely to meet you. Welcome to our album release show!” They scream again. “Please feel free to stick around until we unveil it. This is our first single, it came out last month. It’s called Pretty Boy.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. He never expected you to play the song again, let alone make it a single, but Pretty Boy had become such a staple song for both avid fans and casual listeners. Usually he can’t listen to it, but right now Eddie can’t bring himself to look away from you as you sing the song you wrote for him.

I hadn’t slept in several days, / I hadn’t been warm in weeks, / But after you had met my gaze, / I let my body breathe. / It felt less like a heart attack, / and more like coming home. / I let your body keep me warm, / so I don’t have to sleep alone. / Pretty boy, my heart is yours, / and I hope you’ll say the same, / Cause after all these lonely nights, / I just want to hear you say my name.

It’s crazy to hear the crowd sing with you, adding ambiance to your already angelic voice. Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat, and gulps his whiskey down to suffocate it. As you move into the third song, and Eddie’s about to call it a night, he’s approached by a group of what looks to be twenty somethings, girls about Dustin’s age now.

“Holy shit,” the short girl with spiky, purple hair squeaks, shouting over the music. “You’re Eddie Munson!” She covers her mouth, as if she’s spoken something forbidden.

Eddie scratches the back of his head and laughs. “Yeah, that’s me.” It’s a welcome distraction from the self torture of watching you.

“Would you sign my tits?!” a taller girl speaks, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders and her barely covered chest.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. It’s not the first time he’s been asked, but it never ceases to weird him out a little. “Uh, sure, got a marker?”

She hands Eddie a sharpie, and he signs her skin, leaning as far away from her as he can while doing so. They shout their thanks, and walk away squealing to each other. When he pivots back to the stage, you’re on your knees, singing right into the faces of the front row. What he’d do to have you that close to him again.

-

Your POV

You finish your third and final song of the night, leaving every ounce of your soul on the floor of The Roxy. When you’ve finished, you’re sweaty, smelly, and covered in glitter. Your makeup is smudged and running down your face, and your hair is tangled and sticking out every which way, but you’ve never felt better.

In the green room, Sylvie pops a bottle of celebratory champagne. “To our first sold out show!” You hold your glass up, and everyone clinks theirs together.

“Fucking awesome, you guys.” Steve praises, sipping his own bubbly. “I’m so proud of you guys.”

“Aw, you big sap.” Robin wraps an arm around his waist. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

You join the hug, and your bandmates follow. “Thank you, Steve.” You say, quietly enough that only he hears you.

“Any fuckin’ time.” He breaks the hug with some minor objections. “Feel free to relax before making an appearance.” He checks his watch. “Just be ready before midnight, you gotta be in there for the cover reveal.”

You feel your heart speed up. The cover. Shit.

-

December 1985

“Whoa, dude, lemme see!” Jonathan and Eddie are examining his wounded hand. Jonathan brings his camera to his face, pointing the lense at Eddie’s clenched fist. “I’ll definitely be sure to get you this pic, might make a sick album cover.”

-

Eddie never did, in fact, get a copy of that picture. You did, though, and you’d made it the album cover of your debut: Tighten Up. And now you had to unveil that album in front of the man whose hand is plastered on it. Fuck.

-

The Roxy is thumping with loud music, now playing Mind Riot from the overhead speakers as fans mingle with each other, drinks in hand. You walk to the long table set up in front of the stage, where plenty of DDA fans grip their tour posters, waiting for you to sign. You’re still not used to the sheer amount of people in front of you, all there because of your music, your words.

“Okay, everyone!” Steve grabs the mic and makes his “I’m In Charge” announcements. “The band will be doing some signings, and copies of the albums are available to purchase. Please, don’t take too much time, I know it’s all very exciting but we have a lot of people to get to. Patience is key! Now, I know Y/n wants to address you before revealing the cover, so lemme pass the mic.” He hands you the mic, and you take a step toward your audience.

“Hey, guys!” You greet, and they respond with their loud, disorganized whoops. “Thank you so much for coming out. We hope we see you again tomorrow for our show with the CORRODED COFFIN!” The name drop gets its own applause, and you’re satisfied with the taunting. “But right now, without further adieu,” You grab the sheet that covers the canvas holding a blown up picture of the album. “TIGHTEN UP IS OUT!” You shout, and yank the cloth. There, in all its glory, is Eddie’s bloodied hand, rings and all, with the album title plastered over it in your chicken scratch. The crowd screams, and you have no time to wonder what Eddie must be thinking right now.

-

Eddie’s POV

What the fuck. He’s not sure if he’s seeing it right. His own hand, clenched in a fist, covered in some jock’s blood, on the cover of your debut album. He catches Gareth’s eyes, and makes an “I don’t know” face, that Gareth only returns with confusion. Eddie isn’t sure how to feel. Will people recognize his rings? Are their fans that crazy?

Before his brain can stop him, he’s walking further into the crowd, towards you. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, if he’ll even say anything. Instead, he watches you for awhile, talking to your fans like they’re your closest friends as you scribble on their posters and CDs, and pose for pictures. You look comfortable, at peace, and there’s no way he’d want to ruin that. He takes a gulp of his new drink, feeling the effects of the alcohol in his bloodstream.

“Hey,” It’s Steve, with a beer in his hand. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t think it was my place. And to be fair, Y/n had no inkling you’d ever see it, especially like this.” He takes a sip, waiting for Eddie’s response.

He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the clenching in his gut. “Nah, it’s cool. Really cool, actually. Didn’t know they still thought about me that much.”

Steve hands him a copy of the album. “See for yourself.”

Eddie grips the jewel case in his hands, and opens the album. The disc has the same picture printed on it, and the jacket unfolds to reveal the other picture taken that night, the one of his hand on your throat, covered with lyrics to songs titled Indiana, and Underneath Hell. He can make decent guesses as to what they’re about.

“Go say hi.” Steve shoves him a little, more playful than aggressive.

“Are you serious? I don’t wanna ruin their night.”

“You won’t,” He takes another swig, “I think it might make you both feel better. Cut the shit, get it over with. You’re gonna be stuck with each other all spring, might as well.”

Eddie downs the rest of his whiskey, letting the liquid burn his throat as the buzz takes over. Steve offers his hand, and Eddie gives him the glass. “Here goes nothin.’” He huffs, and disappears into the mob of fans. Many turn their heads, giving double takes when they realize who he is. He ignores the shouts to get his attention, not wanting to draw it away from you. Steve is only steps behind, guarding him from being grabbed at as he snakes to the front. Steve reaches the mic stand, and announces that the band is going to take a break, and to enjoy the refreshments. Eddie watches as you look from your manager, to your bandmates, and then to him.

-

Your POV

Eddie doesn’t look away when you meet his eyes. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and he’s chewing on his lip nervously. You look to Steve again. “What’s happening right now?”

“Would you just go say hi? Act like you know the guy a little.” He shoulders you, causing you to stumble slightly. “C’mon, the rest of you,” Steve addresses the band, “Go take a break, sit down, have some water.” Steve looks back over his shoulder, and waves Eddie over. “You two, go catch up in the green room or something. I’m not letting you both be fucking weird this entire tour. Mingle.” He’s being serious. He ushers you backstage, and finally separates himself to join your friends, leaving you alone with the only person you probably shouldn’t be alone with.

You crack open a beer and take a large gulp. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

-

chapter III

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills | send a message to be added🫶

[pugetsoundsocialistrifle]

Puget Sound Socialist Rifle Association Statement on Washington State bills 1180 and 1240. (These bills are so-called “Assault Weapons Bans.”)

We sent a member to a public comment session on these bills but unfortunately they did not get a chance to speak. What follows is the statement we had prepared.

“The right to self-defense is a natural right, intuitive and "self-evident" to all rational beings. It is formalized in our state constitution (Art. 1 Sec. 24) and codified in our state laws (RCW 9A.16.20 Sec. 3). The incidence of hate crimes is increasing in Washington and elsewhere; victims of these crimes, primarily members of the BIPOC and LGBTQ+ communities, should not be hindered in their ability to exercise the right to self-defense.

In fact, the rhetoric around our trans citizens has become so toxic that none of our many trans members felt comfortable sharing their name and face in a space where many of the speakers today and at least one representative on this committee seek to deny them a peaceful existence. One member did provide a statement and I would like to share her words with you now.

‘I am a transgender woman living in a country that appears to be descending into a transphobic fever dream. I am a gun owner. It appears that the two-party system is now a choice between a party of predominant gun owners that wants my community dead and a party that wants to prevent my community from effectively defending itself. In recent years, my community has experienced a rise in hate towards us and thus we have participated in a rise in self-defense training and gun ownership. We are supposed to have a right to self-defense according to the Washington constitution and a right to own firearms according to the U.S. constitution. Arbitrary and restrictive laws on gun ownership violate those principles. In the absence of effective firearms, I do not trust the police to defend us in the case of a dire emergency or even in day-to day life. I have been threatened, sneered at, and physically hurt by police in Washington State. Two SPD officers participated in the storming of the US Capitol on January 6, 2021. More Americans were killed by police in 2022 than any previous year on record. So why is it that the police deserve to carry AR-15 rifles and I do not? Is my life less precious than theirs? I do not believe so.’

Now, the rationale of those supporting this bill and likely the thoughts of some committee members right now is that it is law enforcement's job to intervene in such instances. That is a fatally flawed assumption.

Federal courts up to and including the supreme court have ruled repeatedly that the police have no constitutional duty to protect citizens who are not in custody, (DeShaney vs. Winnebago, 1989[3]; Town of Castle Rock vs. Gonzales, 2004 [4]), and if you're a homicide victim, there's a 1 in 3 chance that police won't even identify a suspect[6], and as of 2020, about a 50% chance that your murderer will be convicted[7]. We're left to conclude that we must keep ourselves safe.

This bill claims this is a public health emergency but in 2022 in WA more people were killed by police than in mass shootings and despite being 13th in gun sales nationwide, WA was 39th in gun violence in 2022.The FBI notes that in 2019, about 2.5% of all murders were committed with rifles of any kind, less than 1/4 of what was committed with knives [8].

https://gunresponsibility.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/2022WA-GV.pdf Those numbers hardly constitute a public health crisis.

However, attempting to reduce gun violence is a worthwhile endeavor. Over the course of decades, study after study have concluded that the greatest indicator for violent crime and gun violence is economic circumstance. Poverty. This bill does not attempt to address the cause of gun violence. It is merely a misguided and ultimately ineffective attempt to address a symptom.

Passage of this bill would merely be a pyrrhic victory for democrats. Doing nothing to address the cause or symptoms of violent crime while providing ammunition for conservatives to campaign against vulnerable seats locally and nationwide. It would force more citizens to rely on ineffective and untrustworthy law enforcement while ignoring the scary but undeniable fact that ultimately, we keep us safe.”

[raymondshields]

Reading your meta about Gregory and his actions in Inherited Turnabout makes me want to hear more of your thoughts on that. He's presented in AAI2 as a shining paragon of justice, and he's genuinely livid at Von Karma for resorting to torture and forgery to get the verdict he wants. And my own impression is that what made Gregory such a great lawyer was the simple fact that he gave a shit about his clients and their loved ones; he got genuinely teary-eyed listening to the story of how Jeff adopted Kate, and he fought like hell for an entire year because he refused to let their lives be ruined for the sake of Von Karma's ego. Even if he did resort to arguably dirty tactics, it came from a place of caring about others, while Manfred and Blaise only cared about themselves. If they went low, he'd kick them in the face.

(Actually, typing that reminded me of Phoenix's monologue at the end of BttT; "What makes us human is that we fight for others.")

Pretty much! The key part here that we have to remember is that literally none of this is legal IRL. MvK could not have interrogated Jeff like that, whatsoever. There are three ways, legally, that it could have ever happened:

the police interrogate him, because police do illegal shit all the time. Gregory would point out in court that confessions made under pressure like that are illegal, it would have been struck from the record, and then Gregory would've sued the shit out of the LAPD on a breach of human rights because you can't just torture people! How well what would've gone would depend on racism mostly, talk to an actual lawyer, but it's still super illegal.

Gregory would have had to be there, the interrogator would have been a third party agreed upon between him, MvK, and the judge, and there would have been a full transcript that Gregory would have been given as a matter of course. You can't keep shit from the other side, any evidence has to be in the hands of both defense and prosecutor before anything goes to court. Remember the Alex Jones case with his cellphone? The prosecution had to wait two weeks and get confirmation from the defense that it wasn't given to them accidentally, and that they could use it, because of confidentiality between lawyer and client.

Or, most realistically, they would have put Jeff on the witness stand in court, and the court reporter would have transcribed. This is how it would actually go. You can't just threaten the defendant as a prosecutor. You can if you're their defense attorney and tell them how to plead, but the prosecution can't do that.

So with that in mind, you have to look at how AA's legal system works - it's fucked, by the way, and is less satire of the Japanese legal system and more the product of a guy who doesn't know how law works, seriously, Shu Takumi admitted he wasn't trying to make satire and was just bending the rules for the game to make sense - and then look at the position Gregory's in.

I'm not saying he's flawed for this, because a defense attorney in the AA system who only ever does things by-the-book and lets their hands be tied is a defense attorney who lets the system fuck them over. Yes, Miles got a lot of his ability to undercut the law from MvK, but Gregory also undercut the law when he needed to, because as AAI2's entire thesis states, the law as it stands fails people. Simon would not have gone to jail for anything he did right up until he dropped a hot air balloon on some guy. Nothing he did was illegal.

Gregory is presented as a paragon of justice, and the thing is... he is. In this situation, under IS-7, where AA law states they do not need Gregory there to torture and interrogate his client nor do they apparently need to inform him that this happened, undercutting them and getting a copy of the transcript was in fact the moral move. Illegal? I think so, probably, it's hard to say given that it's presented as a dirty trick to us when doing anything else is wildly illegal in real life. The literal best option? Yes, of course.

Gregory gave a shit enough that when MvK set the bar at actual torture and human rights violation, he played dirty. You see it all the time, where honourable people lose majorly because they're not willing to play dirty. Look at the USA's idea of politics. The Democrats would get a lot farther if they were willing to gerrymander right back, but they insist on playing 'fairly' even when no one else is, so they lose quite a bit.

When your opponent isn't playing fair, being honourable makes you a dead man, not a winning man. Gregory understood that, and he went for the option that wasn't legal, but was ethical, and actually in the name of justice.

Gregory understood that yes, sometimes the ends do justify the means, so long as you never forget that the means do still matter regardless of the ends. He was fully prepared to get Badd fired over this, and when his attempts failed, he was going to appeal it. (How that works in AA is never expanded upon, and I'm not gonna theorize, because trying to make AA's legal system make sense gives me more of a headache than reading actual case law.)

Gregory and Phoenix are pretty different characters. A lot of people think that Phoenix is Gregory's true successor, and I can't agree, because Phoenix is a wildly different type of lawyer than Gregory was. Raymond's a lot more like Gregory was, from what I can tell, because Gregory is presented more as like "your average lawyer, who unfortunately got shot in a case involving the chocolate guy" and Phoenix is more "that fucker who keeps stumbling into 15-year unsolved mystery cases on his quest to fuck a boy". Gregory's more down-to-earth about it, although I admit it could very well be because we only got to see him handle One Fucking Case, where's his prequel game, Capcom?

So there's some more thoughts on that? I can elaborate more if you prompt me into a direction about him, this is more a general ramble and analysis. I have way more thoughts (I love him, no one loves him more than I do save for maybe my systemmate Edgeworth, three guesses why) but not super sure what you're hoping for here, so prompt me and I shall answer. :p

[momo-de-avis]

On November 26, 1911, only one year after Portugal overthrew the monarchy and installed the First Republic, Lisbon was swept by a riot, and at the heart of it was two chinese healers.

Throughout the 19th century, it was actually not uncommon at all for "virtuous children" to become popular for their miracle-making abilities, allegedly healing cattle and humans alike with the simplest recipe: the child, with just one consultation, would advise scrubbing a specific type of dirt against the skin to heal it of some rash, or to dig until water was found and then clean your eyes with that water to heal them of blindness, and an assortment of herbs, often made into tea, to heal whatever else there was, asking other "mezinhas" (healing practices that mix paganism with Catholicism). It might sound bizarre but this is a phenomenon well known across europe of what is essentially neo-catholicism, heavily influenced by the rise of spiritism. The spiritism will be considered a tad much by the Vatican of course, but miraculous deeds were a common plot by the Vatican to attract new and younger followers into the catholic church. The climax of this plot is the insane amount of Our Lady appearances recorded across the century.

Now in Portugal, the latter half of the 19th century is exactly when efforts to separate church and state are first made. It is only in the 1880s that we begin seeing a Republican party, and newspapers talk of republican ideals, but the core idea for what will lead to the implantation of the republic appears here: hatred for the Catholic institution and the Vatican.

As these cases rose in popularity, of virtuous boys and their miracles, it was often found that the children were, unsurprisingly, being manipulated by their parents, but the public really did not perceive it as that. To them, this was proof that God had granted a special gift to these children. Famously, João, the virtuous boy of Montargil, when questioned about his miracles, if he was the one who performed them and conducted consultations, instead of replying, the boy remained silent. Outraged, a woman screamed at the journalist interviewing little João (approximate translation, as the phrase is very idiomatic): "You are the worst! You were the one who talked about this to the papers, and here you are because Our Lord God is punishing you with pains!"

(Funnily enough, the government issued a sentence to this child and his father: the boy had to be enrolled in school....)

Of course, among the rising anti-catholic sentiment, these children were seen as victims. The cases in question were often satirised into comedies performed in theatres; in Parliament, these were discussed as a matter of grave nature, for it showcased the problem with religious education; there were even public debates about these boys.

But then the Monarchy falls, the First Republic is installed, the Constitution of 1911 finally separates church and state, and Lisbon is suddenly shaken by the two chinese healers.

Known as Ajus and Joé, these two sisters became known in Lisbon for healing all eye ailments. Allegedly, they used sandalwood sticks to massage the eyelids and heal the eyes of blindness, and they healed you of other worse ailments by using small larvae. They also lived in Hotel Algarve in a rented room, where they set up office and welcomed their patients.

The sisters were known for not charging anything to their clients, and actually practiced their healing arts for free to the poor. Whatever they were paid, the client volunteered it.

For this alone, they were beloved. Lisbon absolutely loved these women. But the Republic had other ideas. It isn't just firmly anti-catholicism: it is anti spiritualism in many ways (which is ironic: the first elected Republican President was a spiritualist, and allegedly his election was announced in a spiritism session in 1882 by none other than King Sebastian...). And these women do what so many had done before, and would be charged for: practicing the healing arts without a proper medical license.

It was ordered for them to be arrested and deported, but the people were absolutely outraged about this. They pressured every branch of the government to overturn this decision, protested heavily for three days out on the streets, and even set up stake-outs to watch the hotel to make sure NOBODY got their hands on them.

Well, someone did. Apparently they were, per the people's account, kidnapped from the hotel by government officials and taken by train to the Spanish border so they could be deported.

The following morning, a crowd of thousands converged into Rossio Square, where topics were to be addressed by the government in a public forum. These ranged from actuality to politics, and at a given point, Machado dos Santos, the very leader of the revolution of the 4-5th of October and hero of the Republic, comes out to address the people. The subject of the chinese sisters comes along, and the enraged mob demands answers. Machado dos Santos tries to soothe the crowd but fails. In the riot that follows, he takes refuge in a café while the riot sweeps across downtown Lisbon. The people march up to Chiado, some taking refuge in A Brasileira café, others taking the streets to fight against the military that is eventually deployed. And as the fight escalates, the people look back on the tactics used by the Republicans, and use their very own successful weapon in the 5th of October Revolution: dynamite. They blow up an entire cavalry commando.

The following day it is announced that there were 18 deaths and hundreds of injured, but it seems it was just 2 deaths. Dozens of buildings are damaged by bullet holes and the bombings. Dozens more are arrested.

As for the chinese sisters? They reached Badajoz, but all the way there and even after that, they set up shop wherever they went (even in train stations!), now charging people for their consultations (and good money, too). Some time after that, news of their arrival in Brasil arrives in the country: there, they have set up permanent consultations, with accounts of their miraculous healings coming back to Portugal. One of the last accounts of a healed individual says: "My eyes are seeing like two telescopes! It's a miracle!"

[survivingtheaudacity]

It has been less than 30 days into 2024 and I am ready for it to be over. The audacity of some people.

Okay friends, I want you to ask you all to do me a favor; go to those closest to you and ask how often they are made to feel uncomfortable based solely on a comment; uncomfortable enough to be fearful of there safety?

*go ahead I’ll pause with you.*

•welcome back•

It’s shocking, how often it happens. Now I want you to think about what you would do if you heard a someone telling a complete stranger at midnight; “…to go into the woods up the street and go behind the trees pull there pants down and take care of business.”

I know exactly what you’re thinking excuse me what?!? Can we get some more details??? Of course you can; picture this….

It’s 12:15 I’m out with a friend headed home but I have to pee >bad< and we’re still 30+ minutes from home. Boom! My friend is driving and sees a 711 and parks while I run in. As soon as I enter the 711 (817 Baker Road Va Beach) I see two “gentleman”behind the counter and another guy waiting for his cooking {food} so I proceed to ask if they have a restroom I can use? He tells me •no• so I thank them and walkout, as the doors closing I hear him call for me, I turn around to see why he called for me. I then turned back around assuming I have yet again dropped something and didn’t realize it)

That is when this •middle aged stranger/711 employee• tells me “ I need to go up the street; find the area that has a bunch of big trees; go behind them pull my pants down and take care of business.” now this is a shortened version of this scary statement and conversation I found myself apart of in the middle of the night, already in the middle of a massive panic attack >thank god for panic disorder< while two grown men just stand there and laugh and agree with me when I remind them that If you are convicted of indecent exposure or obscene sexual display as a third or subsequent offense, there would be a mandatory requirement that you register as a sex offender on the Sex Offender Registry. As I quickly rushed out of the 711 back to my friend; physically shaking from the entire situation the worker who made the original comment tried to get me to come back inside by calling after me laughing.

Let me point out that this entire situation happened in VaBeach who was ranked as the #1 safest city in America in June of 2020. A store employee; you know the ones your supposed to ask for help; a complete stranger who I have never met before this moment; therefore he has no idea how old I am (if I’m even over the age of 18) before making comments about me pulling my pants down.

As we drove away; my heart became just a little bit heavier and as I cried.

I thought about teenagers stopping in late at night for snacks before they have to be home. I thought of those two adults who stayed quiet. I thought about the college students who come at all hours of the night because they are within walking distance. And I pray for there safety. I thought about the worker who was so comfortable that he could say whatever he wanted without having any consequences.

This is not okay, there is not a single person who deserves to fear for there safety while simply living, much less over a simple question.

No matter who you are where you are in the world stop look around you, safety starts in watching out for those around us, say something if you can, if you can’t call your local law enforcement agency immediately and record everything

(}FYI Va is one party consent state, meaning as long as you consent to the conversation being recorded the other party can not make you stop.{)

•who is your safe call•

{Do you have a someone in your life that you can call at any time and stay on the phone with you until you feel safe?}

[if you answered no and you need someone send me a message; no matter the situation I will be your safe call no matter when or how often.]

We are all humans;

We all deserve to feel safe;

People won’t change their toxic behavior if others continue to stay quiet and allow it to continue.

If you see something, say something.

•if at any point in time you are afraid to call 911 or speak to officers you can reach out to me and I will help you however possible•

We mold the future for our youth; let’s make sure it’s a safe one.

#SurvivingTheAudacity🖤

#IfYouSeeSomethingSaySomething

I’ll leave you with this finale question for those who watch or listen but who stay quiet or walk with there invisible blinders on; can you live with yourself if something happens to them simply because you kept quiet?

—Management/ownership/corporate of the 711 on 817 Baker road VaBeach; you may want to consider hiring some new employees, or additional training for the safety of your customers —

[enneamage]

hi i dont know how to start this so im just going to get right into it

i never understood why twitter got so mad at this clip ever since i saw it live i actually thought i was more good than bad? that might sound crazy but the fact as a 16 year old cis guy got called a lesbian and didnt go "ew im not a LESBIAN!??!" and actually thought about it for a second.

i think thats perfectly normal at that age to wonder that to wonder about your sexual and gender identity. hell i did and i think if i never did that as a teen i would have never accepted the idea of me being a trans guy.

now this brings me to the point of this essay. i think if twitter didnt have a shit party over that clip he would be more comfortable expressing himself femininity and accepting his bisexuality.

sure he doesnt have a problem flirting with guys as we've seen but they've always been less "masc" than his whole "big man" persona i think he finds it easier to flirt with guys (with the exception of ranboo of course) if he views them as more fem or even as a women perhaps

im not one to truthing him being trans or clem being real but im not against it. this also isnt me truthing him as being trans. i think cis people expressing femininity and masculinity is so important male or female (femininity and masculinity are ALWAYS put as things that go inherently together, but for some reason theyre never put as things that compliment eachother but thats a whole different topic)

but what do i really know? i dont have an audience of 12 million on youtube and 7 miliion on twitch i cant imagine that many eyes on you just waiting to judge you on your every move

Anon I admire the drive but I’m afraid you’ve sent this to the person who authored the “Tommy being Bi won’t fix him” post, so I must stick to my convictions on this one.

(As an aside, for those who don’t know, meet Clementine!)

I was not directly around for The Lesbian Moment, but I think I heard the gunshots down the street. I think it’s hugely under-emphasised how everyone was on the back of a world-changing mass death event spread out over the course of at least two years around that time, and the way that it (reasonably, all things considered) affected the way people handled stress. People were very sensitised to a lot of things, and it doesn’t surprise me that this would be a case where zooming out from what the problem was ‘supposed to be about’ would reveal a massive soup of situational stressors looking for a fracturing point to express themselves.

As thousands of people were all suddenly shoved online to share the same spaces, the social processes involved with creating norms and group standards had tons of gas thrown on them. It was going to be messy no matter what, people were electing scapegoats left and right to set social standards about what was and wasn’t acceptable. This is grim but important context (Tw), lockdown was horrific for rates of at-home physical and sexual abuse. Being a woman online in general is a state of psychological warfare against an objectifying culture. I remember talk about how his audience was divided even then, a group of lesbians were like “hell yeah we can let Tommy join /nsrs” and then another group were not even remotely okay with that even as a joke.

People were sensitised to feeling invaded in a time where lockdown had personal agency down to record lows, especially for teenagers and children. In a world where you have next to no agency or personal control over your circumstances, having a say in dominant moral narratives and the accepted behavior of people skyrockets in value, because you’re constantly in other people’s power. People were profoundly invested in the few square inches of control that they could/did have, so they were deeply reactive with it. A lot of pandemic reactivity was the behavior of people who felt over-activated and cornered, so while it’s possible to critique the outrage and take it apart on the terms that it presented itself on, it’s important to understand it as part of a whole as well.

👏 ON TO THE GAY SHIT

I feel like what goes into Tommy flirting with each of the men he’s flirted with in the past has been a little bit different. Tubbo seemed like possessive best friend claiming mushed into a straight lens with a side of teasing (I like girls, I like Tubbo, Tubbo is girl.) Ranboo was a fascinating intersection of girlfriend sublimation and flirtation to raise his self-esteem, also a bit of an apology for the not-so-passive-aggression from when it looked like Ranboo had “stolen” Tubbo. I wasn’t around for TimeDeo, but fuck it, that counts too. I don’t think that the majority of his homosocial flirting was to make himself seem more masc, especially with Ranboo. (I’ll spare you examples but that particular stretch has some moments.)

Tommy had a ‘playing toughguy’ problem when he was younger, and it contributed to some of his worst habits in terms of what came out of his mouth. I would have attributed a lot of this to his environment, the influences that he related to both positively (edgy youtubers) and negatively (macho schoolmates.) He was very teenage boy, but even then he had an off-beat streak that I impressionistically related to as more femme, even when he was being abrasive. Ever since being forcibly civilised through Wilbur and the forces of the internet he’s had much less of that, but his femme streak has stayed in some form or another, just evolving to fit what’s needed of him at a given time.

The rate at which Tommy being a cishet man comes up as a genuine issue that people feel compelled to try and see resolved is interesting, even as someone who occasionally feels it myself. Like there’s got to be something to unpack in that dynamic, that whatever behavioral issue he’s experiencing at a given time feels tied to his identity as a cishet male and something that can be revised if he had the right personal revelations. The issue is, I just don’t think it’s true, or at least wouldn’t make the difference that some people would want it to make. Some of his problems could even be tied up in his Englishness, and that’s straight up incurable. It’s hard for me to imagine that having a sexuality related revelation would make that big of a difference in the grand scheme of… him as a person. He’s got a lot of moving parts.

I do feel some frustration on behalf Tommy in terms of being a target of essentialist thought. He’s not allowed to be as camp as he probably wants to be because it comes off as offensive to gay culture, and he’s not allowed to be overtly femme because people are strict about policing gender expression right now if a given person doesn’t take on a certain label that corresponds with it. He’s assumed to have the worst intentions if he isn’t directly part of a certain group, and he really is clumsy with things that he doesn’t understand so he can be better off sometimes keeping his hands inside his box, but it’s still kind of sad to see the roundabout way that these binaries re-enforce themselves with someone like him. At the same time, try not to mourn over ‘what could have been’, because it’s still a form of essentialism to think that having traits more commonly associated with non-cishet identity would solve his problem-of-the-week, and there’s no guarantee that’s the case.

[randomvarious]

Appleseed - "Mile High Express" Big Beat Song released in 1997. Compilation released in 1998. Big Beat

Plays: N/A on Spotify // 10.5K+ on YouTube

Alright, folks, I really hope that I'm able to spark some shit into motion with this post here, because the way the general vibe is right now…well…things are feeling quite unprecedentedly fucked. So, I think it would just be in all of our best interests if we agreed that it was high time for us to immediately leap into our much-needed big beat revival era, because, I don't know about you all, but whenever I hear a quality big beat tune, my spirits seem to get raised pretty instantly 😎.

Now, I don't have nearly enough of this stuff myself, and because it took me such a long time to figure out exactly what this music was even called in the first place, I feel like I should briefly explain what it is and where it came from.

Big beat was a Brit-centered phenomenon that took place between the mid-90s and early 2000s and was a subgenre of breakbeat. Like breakbeat, it relied on a sampled drumbeat-or-break to form the base of its rhythm, but beyond the drums, the rest of it was also significantly sample-based too, incorporating all sorts of instrumental sounds off of 60s and 70s records, and often an old school hip hop lyric as well, to create dance tunes that just had this…rather big sound to them. The undisputed king of this stuff's always been Fatboy Slim, but Chemical Brothers and The Prodigy are definitely up there as well, and others have made significant contributions too, like The Wiseguys with "Ooh La La" and "Start the Commotion," Basement Jaxx with "Where's Your Head At," and Moby with "Bodyrock."

And the thing about this music is, even though not very much of it actually managed to chart all that highly Stateside, and you couldn't really even find much of it on radio or MTV either, it was still nevertheless pretty much everywhere else, coursing through countless videogame, film, and TV advertising soundtracks. Big beat's retro-present nature, as it lightheartedly revived fun and vintage sounds on top of drumbeats that still sounded modern enough, seemed to fit perfectly during such a sunny, 'end-of-history' time when people were genuinely and very naïvely excitedly awaiting a technologically advanced, Internet-dominated future that was inevitably going to only transform our society for the better 🥴. Optimism abounded for a period of new, democratic enlightenment that was fast-approaching and its mass-appealing party soundtrack seemed to be comprised of a whole lot of big beat flavor, a forward-looking genre in and of itself that showed what people were capable of creating by cleverly crafting their own groovy dance collages primarily out of various sonic bits that'd been recorded decades prior and largely discarded.

So, with that lengthy preamble out of the way, I've got a total fuckin' big beat banger for you all today from a little-known British trio called Appleseed, whose most popular song, "Mile High Express," was used in an Adidas ad in the States in 1998 because Adidas couldn't get the proper license to use Fatboy Slim's now-iconic "Right Here, Right Now" instead, which ended up being used for the ad overseas.

Appleseed first debuted in '95 with a 12-inch on a very short-lived London label called Naked, but then in '97, they were on the Middlesex-based Kingsize, who themselves were pretty new too, but seemed to have a better capacity to release stuff on a regular basis. And it was through them that Appleseed would put out their only album, Kick It Till It Breaks, which is where you could find "Mile High Express," before it was issued as its own 12-inch single in '98.

So, sounding like a Fatboy Slim track itself that would equally slay at any sun-shining outdoor gathering or breakdance exhibition, "Mile High Express" basically has five essential elements to it that make it dope. One, a punchy, boom bappy drumbeat; two, a short, killer, looped-up sample from an early 1970s French children's record that's responsible for the underlying piano sound; three, a large helping of squealingly lively and extensively freewheeling joy on a Hammond B3 organ; four, some bells; and five, a sampled, catchy line off of New Jersey rap group Lords of the Underground's 1993 song, "Lord Jazz Hit Me One Time (Make It Funky)":

Watch me scratch it in your brain!

Put all this together with a bassline that mimics the melody of the French children's sample, some radiating ambience, and a brief, little bridge, and you've got yourself quite an irresistibly sweet bop on your hands 👍.

Because Brits seemed to be far more accepting of instrumental music in the first place, a whole lot of dance material was able to commercially succeed there, providing a much more fertile ground for big beat itself to flourish too. On a mainstream level, we only caught a fraction of that wave here in the States, but given how inherently carefree and upbeat this music tended to be, I think we're due to force its comeback…right here, right now…in a way that eclipses the impact that it had originally left, so we can start to be spiritually lifted a mile high out of what's been feeling like a rapidly accelerating downward spiral into a pit of horror. Bring back this quintessential electronic dance sound of the turn-of-the-millennium summer!