#yes i am like recycling these gifs let me be

[johnbrand]

Recycling

I watched as the next employee entered the chamber. He appeared a bit confused, probably having expected a conference room rather than the dark space with mirrored walls. By the look of it, he had no idea that any one of the panes were one-sided, hesitantly fidgeting with his tie as he announced his presence with a timid “Hello?”

I leaned into the microphone, “Good afternoon.” The nervous boy’s eyes dashed around the room, trying to identify the person speaking to him. His physical characteristics and mannerisms resembled a mouse, small and skittish.

“Am I supposed to be here?” he eventually replied, choosing the speaker above my viewpoint as his receptor.

“Yes, this is the meeting to discuss your annual review.” I replied. “You're in the right place, Mr. Donson. Would you like for me to refer to you by your given name?”

The boy shuffled anxiously, “Drayton is fine.”

Habitually, I continued. “I’m sure you're wondering why your annual review this year is different from those in the past. Don’t worry Drayton, you are still one of our top performers, and your review reflects your incredible performance.”

Feeling a delicate surge of confidence, Drayton let a smile sneak up onto his lips. Being clean shaven and still holding some baby fat, it frankly was quite endearing. Cute even.

“As you are already aware, our company has been having some financial issues recently. And as a high-ranking official in our accounting department, I am sure that you are more than knowledgeable on the details of this subject.”

Drayton’s youthful glee faltered for a moment.

“Unfortunately, we do not have the funds available to keep you on board and give you a raise,” I started. “The company would like to offer you a deal: in exchange for accepting a substandard review and a 19% decrease in pay, we will offer you external benefits.”

Shock emerged from Drayton’s face, “What benefits would be worth a fifth of my paycheck?”

“Unfortunately I am liable to disclose that information,” I robotically replied. “You can either accept or tender a resignation.” 

Drayton took a moment to decide, just like all the other employees typically did. But eventually, they all convinced themselves that losing employment at the company was the worse of the two options.

“I’ll accept.”

“Stand by.” I followed procedure, locking the exits and airways into the chamber. Once that was done, I began flipping the switches. Steam mechanisms, followed by audio machines, followed by visual projectors. I did not even pay attention to the squabbling accountant, panicking as his chamber was bombarded with smoke, abrasive phonics, and commands that flashed against the walls and reflected into every corner of the room. 

Thanks to the padding in my control room, I absorbed none of it. I simply ignored Drayton’s screams and opened my laptop, getting back to my own duties as the process did its work. With all the vapors, I typically could not witness any of the changes that happened anyway–which also meant I could never attest to possible allegations if our company did ever come under some sort of legal fire in the future. But sometimes I did spot little things, flashes of commands that were being ingrained into the employee. MASCULINE, TRADITIONAL, ATTENTIVE. The small letters would pulse by an instant, although they were meaningless to me within my enclosed accommodations.

Eventually, my timer went off, and I closed out of the procedure. I exited the program and flipped the switches back over, shutting off all stimulatory mechanisms. It took a moment for the smoke to clear, presenting me with a new version of the employee. More muscular, more masculine, and more virile.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Donovan?”

"It’s Donson, boss." The man stood tall, stoic. His voice now held much more depth and presence.

"It’s Donovan, Drake Donovan,” I affirmed. “That's what's in our system."

I watched the man process this, the command’s installation literally visible behind his now less-intelligent eyes. 

“I see you were able to find part of your new uniform already.” I was referring to the briefs and sweatshorts that were covering the lower half of Drake’s much larger body. The remnants of the former business casual outfit were scattered across his large feet. “The closet behind you will contain the rest of your attire. Company fitness uniforms and approved footwear that will better fit your size and new position.”

“New position?” Drake inquired, his question curious rather than interrogative.

“The company has decided to reassign you as a security liaison, seeing as that will be a better fit for your paygrade.” I typed away at my reviewal report, adding in details of Drake’s benefits package. Increase in height, dramatic increase in musculature, increase in hair, increase in virility…

To save money, the company liked to recycle its employees. We would bring in fresh graduates to run our corporate operations, and then once they hit their pay ceiling, recycled them into more manual, less intellectually-driven roles. Naturally, no one ever filed any complaints about this procedure as no one realized it existed. And even if they did, they would no longer have the brains capable to file such a complaint.

“Sounds good, boss,” Drake replied, even though I had already known what his answer was going to be. With his dominating size and brutish stature, Drake had been remodeled into the standard male form that we needed for our team. And with this mind simplified to only focusing on traditional objectives (upholding masculinity, working out, fulfilling his role), Drake was now bound to solely focus on the company’s objectives. Thanks to the recycling process, our company would keep the profits high and the employee turnover low. And now, Drake would remain entertained without the extra money by merely following orders and enjoying the simpler things in life, like flexing his muscles.

[alpaca-clouds]

Can you help debunk what I have been told that solar panels are bad for the environment and cause more waste because they take a long time to decompose and wear out in a couple years?

Okay, let me try and answer this. Because yes, this is a more complicated issue, than a lot of people make it out to be.

So, let me start with the big thing that gets often overlooked: Without even looking into ressource use, big photovoltaic power plans have definitely a negative environmental impact. Not as a negative as anything fossil energy related, but negative never the less.

With power plants I mean those giant fields where we plaster photovoltaic panels over acres of land, to have a central power plant based around photovoltaic. And while we might not get around some of those big power plants, part of the energy revolution should be to move towards micro grids instead of current macro grids (so, decentralization), hence lowering the need of central powerplants.

Now, a lot of people who are anti-pv - mostly people who are from the fossil fuel lobby, but also some nuclear-lobby folks - tend to exaggerate those negative impacts... But they are still there. (Mostly having to do with depending on the type of pv panel used they can impact the ground temperature - and of course they just disrupt the environment.)

Sooo... Let's get to the raw materials. The important bit in photovoltaic is silicon. And this is one of the good old environmentalist "well actaully" things. Because when I was a kid I got told: "Oh, silicon is never a problem, because it is just sand! We have so much sand!" But of course I learned that it is not quite as easy. Because not all sand is created equal and not all can be used for stuff like concrete (which is shit either way), glass or photovoltaic.

Though still it is not as much of an issue as a lot of rare earth materials. Some of which are currently used in photovoltaic. But here is the other thing...

Photovoltaic is currently one of the fastest developing energy technologies. Basically anything I am gonna tell you here will be outdated next year. I guarantee.

But yes, in the creation of photovoltaic we currently use rare earth metals, that are at times sourced through bad means. Both in terms of it being mined through slave work and through the mining being done in a way that harms the environment. But... for one, we are currently working on reducing the need for rare earth metals in the creation of photovoltaic. And like with nuclear materials: We could mine the materials in a much more sustainable way - both on a social and ecological level. It is just that the current capitalist system has all the incentives to mine those materials wiht exploited workers or even slaves, and to not take care of the waste created in the mining operation.

And this gets us back to the recycling.

Short version: Yeah, we have ways to recycle about 65-80% of the materials in a photovoltaic panel. And like everything else: We are working on it and it will probably go up to 90%. But once again: Like with all recycling the issue is, that recycling materials is way more expensive than getting new materials. Which is why under capitalism all the things we could recycle often do not get recycled.

But it is possible.

tl;dr: Yes, there are drawbacks to photovoltaic, but it is not as bad as many make it seem. And a ton of the drawbacks are not inevitable but only exist because of capitalism.

[sgiandubh]

Have you noticed that people come to you in groups? Only kids, lurkers and now new shippers. Is it something that happens naturally or do you separate them by theme and things just happen?

Dear Group Anon,

An interesting question, again. The answer is no, I never noticed that.

By (ex-communist country) personal past experience and (French) education, I am always doing two things: question everything and treat everybody exactly the same way I would like to be treated by them. Because I am a unwavering shipper, this applies exclusively to our side of the spectrum.

But yes, I am aware our side has all the possible denominations you could think of and believe it or not, I think it's a very good thing. It is natural. It stimulates the debate. And above everything else, it is democratic. Let people believe what they want, as long as they don't force it down my throat and are gracious. I said it very early and I will say it every time: you do you. I do me.

The thing that keeps me going, in life, is finding that new angle and maybe it shows even in here. And I am aware that it might not be everyone's cup of tea. This is why I also thank each and every one of you who has a warm thought or whose day was made better by what I can write in here. It's not ass-kissing: you gave me your time, it's only fair I commend your generosity.

So no, instead of groups and lists and timelines, I prefer to see people. And to focus on the things that we have in common, not on the details that could divide us. I don't separate. The only Anons that see the recycling bin are the idiots who insist on the obvious and those who insult me: I could not care less. And the rest happens in DMs: the fabulous salon privé, where trade is brisk and talks are always damn interesting.

I take it as it is: an extraordinary sociological experience. Not an experiment. I often wondered how wonderful it would be to have some sort of a global shipper gathering somewhere (on neutral land, otherwise brains would explode, in Mordor).

I know I would take the first flight to Whatevershire, just to say hi and hug so many of you. You know who you are. You are spectacular and you shine bright, in my heart.

[trevorendeavors]

How much do you charge for commissions?

I charge $15 per hour!

I do digital art, fanart, book covers (yes, fanfic covers included), graphic design, logos, business cards, acrylic paint, watercolor paint, washi tape art, Minecraft skins, custom stickers, etc.

I accept PayPal, Venmo, CashApp, Zelle, and I'm working on a Stripe account.

"How many hours does it take to complete a comm?"

That depends on the nature of the comm. Here are some of mine from this year:

1 HOUR ($15) - These were commissioned by CrustySoap. These drawings took roughly an hour each. Generally speaking, scanned sketches and scanned sketches with flat colors are my quickest styles. If you're on a budget, this may be the style for you.

2. 2.48 HOURS ($37.20) - This one was commissioned by Ian. She wanted a self portrait based on one of her outfits. The background is made of a recycled filter made in one of my previous drawings.

3. Roughly 8.46 HOURS ($127~) - Commissioned by my good friend Nicole Straussman-Allen for her husband's bday. She approached me with the prompt of having Link from TTOK and Solid Snake from Metal Gear Solid shaking prosthetic hands. Since they have the hands on the same side, I suggested a fist bump instead, to which she heartily agreed. The result is something I'm very proud of.

However, these are not all the art styles I can do.

I was also commissioned by none other than Avi Roque this year! Their prompt was to create a physical painting/sketch of a scene from The Owl House. Disclaimer: I collected $50 + shipping for this painting - the prices listed on my website are approximately such, but as of this year they are currently out of date.

As with anything I make, $15/hour is the charge.

Here are other examples of my art!

Here's how I operate commissions:

Think of a character(s) you want me to draw and in what style. This can be a style I've already drawn in or one you'd like me to emulate. If you're not sure, I can give you recommendations based on your budget and aesthetic preferences. I can draw backgrounds as well, or even use a photo (either yours or mine) as a background.

From there, I'll give you a time estimate on how long it'll take. This varies greatly depending on the chosen art style and complexity of the comm.

Once we agree on the estimated price and style, that is when I begin timing myself as I work on your comm. I count strictly the hours I am working on the comm - not days between drawing sessions.

I'll send you work in progress photos/screenshots throughout. If you see something you'd like changed, it's better to let me know sooner rather than later so I can reduce the time needed to make adjustments.

Once you're satisfied with the final result, that's when payment is due. I take PayPal, Venmo, CashApp, and Zelle. I'm working on adding Stripe as well.

It is then that I'll email you the final result in high resolution and your preferred file format. NOTE: I also do painting commissions. If you would like a physical painting shipped to you, you will be responsible for shipping charges (thankfully my post office is relatively cheap, so depending on the size you're looking at an additional fee of $5-10, if that).

WILL DO / WON'T DO:

I will draw pretty much anything except for deliberately fetishistic art. For anything nsfw, I require proof of age. I reserve the right to terminate a comm for any reason.

That said, I look forward to working with you!

[marisoft-paint-adventures]

Pgs. 385 - 445

TG: skepticism is the crutch of cinematic troglodytes TG: like hey mom dad theres a dinosaur or a ghost or whatever in my room. "yeah right junior go back to bed" TG: fuck you mom and dad how many times are we going to watch this trope unfold it wasnt goddamn funny the first time i saw it TG: just once id like to see dad crap his pants when a kid says theres a vampire in his closet TG: "OH SHIT EVERYONE IN THE MINIVAN" TG: be fuckin dad of the year right there

so fucking true Dave, keep spitting.

EB: that's fine, you are entitled to your opinion, i am just saying that being a white guy who is a rapper with a ventriloquist doll is not cool by any stretch of the imagination or by any definition of word cool, ironic or otherwise. that's all i'm saying.

ULTIMATE WHITE BOY BRO STRIDER.

oh hey it’s the page I used to showcase Hussie’s affinity for slurs.

uh

still bad.

me when I fucking sTAB MY MOTHER.

I’m having rough flashbacks to HS^2 and I don’t like it.

also I just gotta say that Mom is the coolest looking person in this entire comic I mean just look at this fucking POSE.

it just screams “hello daughter you are going to get fuckin served.”

yes. the pony. beloved Maplehoof.

I’ve always seen this idea that the process of creating Earth, and by extension Universe B, involved taking the attributes and interests of the 12 trolls and morphing them into brand new instances and ideas, like how Gamzee’s Juggalo religion manifested as ICP on Earth.

I like to think that the entirety of the For Assholes book series exists through a recycling of Karkat’s personality.

also that fucking Asshole Note is comedy gold.

aw yeah time to fucking beat the shit out of an imp let’s

shit.

W magnet.

alright for real this time let’s kick the shit out of this imp.

goddammit.

also another White John can be found in this flash, collect all 7 to turn Super White.

also the Egbert Centipede I guess.

Tip: I am so fucking mad.

OK 1 MORE TIME.

he did it. he destroyed the fucker. John man.

YES.

DO THE THING.

YEEEAAAAAAH.

yeah.

fuck you cat I am about to revive.

IT’S HER, CLOWN GRANDMA.

HI NANNA.

TG: i mean dont get me wrong i think its cool and all TG: the semi-ironic puppet thing or whatever TG: or semi-semi ironic TG: man i dont even know TG: im just starting to think some of this shit is going a little far and its kind of fucked up TT: I've seen his websites. TT: I like them.

what did she mean by this.

what did she mean by this?

what did she mean by this?!

TG: oh man i wish lil cal wouldnt look at me like that TG: with those dead eyes jesus TG: sometimes i dream that hes real and hes talking to me and i wake up in a cold sweat and basically flip the fuck out

not saying it.

Page 422, titled “[S] GO ON. ==>” completely underrated flash, just listen to this fuckin song.

it captures the feeling of a big expository RPG cutscene so damn well I love it, it’s like I’m a kid again.

this is also just one of my favorite Sburb mechanics, I love the concept of basically deciding the abilities and aesthetics of the NPCs via prototyping, it’s such a cool little thing and opens up a lot of possibility for any fan-sessions.

JOHN: ok, i think i get it now! JOHN: so i guess the battle against good and evil is sort of irrelevant? well, i don't know, that all sounds kind of weird, but in any case, we build the house to get to these gates, and then i can save my dad! NANNASPRITE: Yes, John! JOHN: and then after that, we solve this ultimate riddle thing and save earth from destruction!!! NANNASPRITE: Oh no, I'm afraid not!

NANNASPRITE: Your planet is done for, dear! There is nothing you can do about that! JOHN: oh...

I fucking love this sequence because John activates the Cheery Protagonist Mode ready to assemble a team of teens with attitude in order to save the world from Dark Chess and whatever only to hear that the entire world will end and his response is just “aw..... :(”

I went on this entire shpeel about the potential of writing an isolationist John based off of willy nilly prose narration at the beginning but MAN do the early versions of the kids not give a SHIT about what’s going on.

“John Egbert, the Earth is doomed, it is going to explode, all life will die, you and your friends will be the last living things remaining.”

“:(”

AND THEN HE JUST MOVES ON.

this is a very weird moment that sticks out when looking at the comic as a whole because the weight of literally all life dying at once is nonexistent, but at the same time, this is fucking hilarious.

it makes think about a lot of rewrites I’ve seen where they try, emphasis on try, to give the fact that world ends more emotional relevance, and they basically kinda force this by introducing random background characters who are obviously going to die immediately.

like “oh hi my name is Huma Nfriend I’ve been besties with John Egbert since childhood we’re very close and cool and we’re gonna play a game called Sburb!!!” and then they just

I understand y’all want to make the characters actually feel something in regards to the entire home blowing the fuck up but there’s gotta be better ways than inventing some characters just to fridge.

also John does this.

uh, yeah. I don’t know.

he’s having a moment.

just give him some space.

ok now that’s just rude.

god Rose’s house during the winter is so pretty.

holy shit a Jade and Rose conversation, I hope we get plenty of these! (we do not.)

Jade knows about Sburb??? and it could bring Jaspers back to life???? what could it me- ok this joke already fucking sucks.

ah yeah it’s time to beat the shit out of the local whiteboy.

this shit is so fucking cool oh my god.

also there are literally meteors falling as Dave looks out and I guess he does give a shit.

[bcdrawsandwrites]

[ID: The first image Psychonauts fanfic banner on a black-to-gray gradient background. On the left in white text it says “Prompt #4: Rescue Mission” On the right is a pink animated figment of a thought bubble, inside which is a donut with frosting and sprinkles.

The second image is a Bad Things Happen Bingo card. Various prompts are marked with a half-brain (prompt requested but not filled) or full-brain (prompt requested and finished) symbol, while the “Rescue Mission” prompt specifically is marked with a full brain symbol. /end ID]

Okay so I hate the way Tumblr crops these so I’m putting the banner above the bingo card. I hope that’s okay, @badthingshappenbingo ​! (also I promise the figment in the banner makes sense for the fic)

I am currently NO LONGER OPEN FOR REQUESTS. I have enough to work on to get a bingo! I MAY decide to reopen prompts later if I want to keep going after finishing these fics, but for now, requests are closed!

This request comes from @echoing-interests​! Hope you liked my take on this. \o/; Thanks to @jaywings​ and @of-science-and-stars​ for beta-reading!

Prompt: Rescue Mission Characters: Sasha Nein, Milla Vodello, and Razputin Aquato Warnings: None

---~~~---

Status report. Dustpan?

Listening to conversations at the water coolers, darling.

Have you gathered the intel?

No, just gossip. It's quite juicy, but I'm keeping an ear out for our target. What about you, Shoehorn?

Searching the trash bins. Sasha flipped through another folder in the file cabinet. The Gastronauts are still terrible at... recycling, so this is taking longer than expected. Eggbeater?

I'm still wondering why we have to use our code names when we're talking through telepathy.

Because the devices Egg Carton gave us to counteract the disruptive waves the Gastronauts put around their base are still experimental, and we don't know that they aren't listening in.

...Are there really devices that can listen in on psychic thoughts?

We don't know yet, darling.

Do you not recall our briefing?

I uh... Raz's mental voice faltered. I... was kinda so excited that we were infiltrating an enemy base that I... forgot to listen.

Sasha's brow furrowed, and he let out a hum. It's a good thing this isn't a more serious mission, or you would be in danger.

Sorry.

Darling, do you at least remember our goal?

Oh! Yeah, got that one. Find the blue—wait! We weren't supposed to relay that over telepathy, were we?

Correct. Can you relay your position?

Affirmative. I'm still in the air vents and looking for the office, as instructed. Over.

Let's resume. Let me know if you find anything.

With that, Sasha TK'd another stack of papers out from the filing cabinet, quickly sorting through them, his eyes darting over the dates. Annoyingly they seemed to jump from January, to March, to November, to May of last year. Either they never referenced their files or they just didn't care how disorganized they were, and he wasn't sure which was worse. Frowning, he slid the papers back into their places and moved onto the next drawer. This went on for some time—there were a grand total of ten filing cabinets in this forsaken clerk's office with four drawers each. This combined with how awful the Gastronauts' bookkeeping was certainly did not make it easy for Sasha to find what he'd been looking for.

At the very least he had a bit of time—this clerk, he'd discovered, liked to take his sweet time with his lunch break, sometimes taking longer than the time allotted. Plus, if their telepathy was intercepted, then whoever tried to investigate them would be looking in the wrong places. Typically for something like this they would've used encrypted telepathy, but Raz had yet to learn it, and the agent that usually taught it was out on a lengthy mission, so they had to fall back on simpler methods. This, at least, was something Raz had no trouble with.

Eggbeater is quite enthusiastic, isn't he? came Milla's voice over telepathy. It was a message sent to him alone, a familiar psychic whisper.

Yes, but his enthusiasm can be a bit... misplaced at times. Finding this stack only had papers from three or four years ago, he sighed and moved on. He needs to pay attention during briefings.

He'll get the hang of things soon, Shoehorn.

I'm sure you're right. Stooping down, he opened the last drawer to find it only had one folder within. He TK'd out its contents, looking them over. Eyebrows raising, he put a hand to his temple. I've only found worthless things here.

That's terrible! We'll have to move on, then, Milla replied with an excitement that did not match her coded words.

Sasha smiled, waiting for Raz's equally-enthusiastic response. As he quickly folded the paper and shoved it into his jacket, however, no reply came. Eggbeater? he asked. Please confirm you received the message announcing my failure.

Perhaps he's forgetting things again, Milla suggested.

Frowning, Sasha sent a stronger signal. Eggbeater? Respond.

His telepathy was met with the almost-physical thud of psychic energy striking against a barrier. Sucking in a breath, Sasha straightened his back. Dustpan, send a message to Eggbeater immediately.

Several heartbeats later, Milla sent an uncharacteristically quiet response: His signal was... blocked.

Change mission objectives immediately. Retreat to base.

Instead of heading for the exit, however, Sasha scanned the darkened office he'd been sneaking around in. Its owner had been out to lunch, but... He hurried up to the desk, spotted a pen, and put his hand on it before shutting his eyes.

Immediately his view was replaced with that of a half-eaten plate of french fries and ranch dressing. (Eugh.) With a subtle suggestion he made the person look up, granting him a better view of what appeared to be a cafeteria. Several other workers were milling about, chatting with each other and eating food. With a few quick uses of clairvoyance, he jumped from person to person, taking a moment to listen to their thoughts.

Ugh, that report is due tonight, gonna have to work overtime.

Can't believe they caught that listening device! That took months to plant.

Man, why are the fries always cold?

While Sasha could feel the anxiety tugging at his mind at finding no information on Raz's whereabouts, at the very least none of these people were aware that there were intruders, meaning that perhaps only a few people had found Raz. The fewer people they had to deal with, the better.

Finally he caught someone that was heading out of the room, and CV'd into her. Meanwhile an encrypted message reached him, and he quickly untangled it: Sasha, have you found anything?

He replied with an encrypted message of his own: I'm currently employing use of clairvoyance to check around the base. A note on the listening device we found in the Motherlobe, but nothing on Razputin.

I'm searching for ripples as we speak. This shouldn't take long.

Yet even now it already felt like they were taking too long. The woman whose head he'd hopped into was walking to the restroom, so he moved from her to a man that was exiting the men's room and striding down another hallway. This one only had a stack of paperwork on his mind, so he jumped from him and over into a person lingering in the doorway of an office. There was nothing of note in there other than a very tired worker holding his head in his hands while the woman in the doorway rambled about the latest football game. The man at the desk finally raised his head. "Rhonda, I know, I know we lost. Man, I can't believe I stayed up to watch that mess." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm so tired I think I'm hearing things—I swear I heard a kid in here earlier."

Sasha gave a start.

Sasha, Milla's encrypted voice came over telepathy. I've got something.

I may have as well.

"Seriously, like, did Jakob bring his kid in again?"

"Nah, we would've heard from Morter if he did."

"True..."

Quickly Sasha compelled the woman in the doorway to glance out into the hall, and from there, jumped into a different person's head through another open door. Some people here may have heard Raz's voice, he replied quickly. I may be close to where he was taken. He took a moment to listen in on the worker's thoughts, and upon finding only an extreme longing for donuts, he jumped to the next worker he could spot. What have you found?

I may have pinpointed where Raz was taken. Raz's signal is blocked entirely, but I've found a man who's very intently focused on a child, in a storage room...

Sasha's stomach dropped, his mind racing to several different conclusions, none of them positive. Perhaps a secret interrogation room, he thought frantically, compelling the man he'd jumped into to glance around the hallway. Sure enough, he spotted a storage room, but the door was shut. Frustration gnawing at his astral consciousness, he tried to send a subliminal urge to the man to grab some files that had definitely been put in that particular storage room.

What? the man thought. Where'd that come from? That one doesn't even have files in it, that's in the one on the second floor.

Gritting his teeth, Sasha sent another subtle signal: Someone left a very important file in there and it will get lost if I do not grab it.

...Oh yeah, Elliot dropped his report in there last time. Ugh.

With a sigh, the man fished in his pocket for a key before moving to open the door.

"Uh-uuhhhh hang on, occupied!" a frantic voice came from inside, followed by a lot of scrambling and clanking.

"Wha'd'you mean, 'occupied'?" the man outside asked. "You're in the device storage, Morter, not the bathroom!"

"Look I'm—I'm conducting something in here, okay?"

"Conducting... what, exactly?"

"An... interview?"

The man outside groaned. "Man, why don't you interview applicants in your office? What've you got one for if you're just—"

"R-Rhonda wouldn't shut up."

"...Ah, got it." Sighing, he shook his head. "Look, did Elliot leave his report in there?"

"I... oh. Huh, he did."

"Just hand it to me, and I'll leave you and the new guy alone, okay?"

"R-right."

Sasha readied himself, and the second the door cracked open, he jumped into the man—Morter's, apparently—head. Sure enough, once the man turned around he found himself staring at a dimly-lit room with shelves and shelves of boxes and strange devices he didn't have time to analyze.

And in the middle of the room was a metal chair, with Raz sitting on it, bound and gagged, a look of fear and worry in his eyes. The counter-device Otto had provided him with was sitting on the floor a distance off, too far away to properly block the disruptive waves around the building. He jumped into Raz's head, taking a quick read of his thoughts.

Oh no, oh no, please don't come back here, this isn't good...!

He'd seen enough.

Don’t worry, Eggbeater, we’re on our way.

Without waiting for a response, Sasha yanked his consciousness back to his own body, shutting his eyes against the dizziness it brought. He pressed a hand to his temple, fingers digging in so hard they hurt. I've found him. He's in danger.

There was silence on Milla's end for a moment. When she replied, her mental voice was cold. We've known the Gastronauts could do questionable things... but placing a child in danger...

There's no time to waste.

Nothing more needed to be said. Sasha levitated up into the ceiling vent he'd initially come out of, closing it behind himself and crawling through. He'd come to this place a number of times for routine missions, but he was less familiar with the location of the device storage. He'd seen the cafeteria before, so if he could remember where that was from his current position, and build a mental map of where he'd gone to find the door to storage...

It wasn't the first time he'd had to do something like this, yet for once he was having trouble focusing; the longer he took to do this, the more likely it was that Raz could get hurt. How he was being hurt, he wasn't sure, and not knowing only worried him more.

A hand—one that wasn't truly there—gently rested on his shoulder before squeezing it. Sasha, Milla said, and he shook his head, bringing himself back into focus. Silently he crawled through the vents, heading in a direction just west of the cafeteria. Milla, meanwhile, was disguised as a Gastronaut herself, and navigating the building below him, moving over to where she'd felt the waves. Sasha could feel the frustration bubbling on her end when an actual Gastronauts agent stopped her to ask some questions, but he moved on, heading closer and closer to the storage room.

A wailing noise, distorted through the vents, made the hair on his neck stand on end.

It was coming in the direction of the storage.

Sasha was over the vent cover in moments, and with a single psi-blast knocked it off its screws and sent it crashing to the ground. He followed seconds later, landing a bit more roughly than usual, one hand to his temple. On the opposite side of the room, Milla slammed the door open, her presence filling the doorway.

Both of them stood partially crouched, one hand to their temple... until they took in the sight before them.

Raz was still sitting on the chair, no longer gagged, while the man that Sasha had caught a glimpse of earlier was now lying on the floor, hands covering his face as he sobbed. Between them sat Raz's Psycho-Portal. Upon seeing Sasha and Milla barging into the room, Raz whipped his head around, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Oh! Hi, guys!"

Slowly Sasha and Milla straightened their backs, lowering their hands as they both stared at him.

"...Razputin. What."

Raz shrugged sheepishly. "I felt your CV earlier, but I was kinda preoccupied with helping Morter, and I was also really worried that his coworker would come in here and see us. Which, speaking of—Milla, can you shut that door?"

Blinking, Milla stepped into the room and shut the door softly behind her. "Who's... Morter?"

"ME!" the man on the floor cried, scrubbing the snot and tears from his face.

"But don't worry! We've got it all settled now. D'you mind untying me, though? I was gonna ask Morter, but..." He lowered his voice to a stage whisper, "I think he's kinda having a moment right now."

Sasha felt oddly lightheaded as he stepped up to Raz, using telekinesis to untie the ropes that bound him. "So you're not hurt?"

"I feel a little stiff now that you mention it," Raz said as he hopped down. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his legs. "I think I can walk it off, though."

"We... may have caused a bit of commotion," Milla remarked, glancing back toward the door. "I think we should take our leave."

"Already?" Frowning, Raz snatched up his Psycho-Portal, hurried over to Morter, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, I gotta go. Sorry I couldn't stay longer. But you're gonna stand up to Jakob from now on, right?"

Morter raised himself up onto his knees, scrubbing at his face again. "Y-yes!" he sobbed. "I will!"

"Great! Glad to hear it." Giving him a positive thump on the back, Raz stood up straight and hurried over to Sasha. "Are we heading back through the vents?"

"...Yes."

"Okay, got it. See you later, Morter!" He paused. "Please don't rat us out to your bosses, okay?"

"I-I—I won't!"

"Thanks!" Grinning, Raz hopped up onto his levitation ball and bounced up into the vent. Sasha and Milla exchanged bewildered glances before following.

Once they were out of the building and heading back to where they'd arranged for Oleander to pick them up, Milla finally spoke up: "So... can you tell us what happened in there?"

With a wince, Raz ducked his head. "Yeah, so, I kinda got caught..." Then his head shot back up, and he held up his hands. "But it's okay! 'Cuz Morter took me into that storage room—he wanted to interrogate me, I think, but I saw he was all stressed out, and I asked him about what was wrong, and he talked about how he's this office worker and this one agent keeps bullying him and dumping all this work on him and making him watch his kid at work, and... I kinda... asked if he'd like me to take a look around in here." He tapped on his head. "He was actually kinda curious about how we do that kinda stuff, so he agreed, and... I... kinda helped him sort things out from there." Raz paused, then screwed up his face. "His mental world was a daycare."

Sasha laughed, quite a bit louder than he'd intended, and Milla and Raz stared at him. "That's... quite remarkable, Razputin."

"You think so?" Raz smiled, only for his face to fall as he glanced aside. "I was... kinda worried that I wasn't doing as well on this mission, especially since I missed so much of the briefing."

Milla stooped down closer to him to give him a grin. "You did amazing, darling!"

"Awesome! Man, for a bit there I was worried we weren't gonna pull that mission off."

"Well, about that..." Frowning, Sasha pulled the paperwork he'd found out of his jacket. "I did find the new employee paperwork, but we weren't able to secure the blueprints for their newest device."

"...Oh, yeah! Almost forgot. I did get taken to device storage, so at one point while Morter's back was turned..." Glancing over his shoulder, Raz TK'd a rolled-up sheet of paper out of his backpack.

Sasha and Milla exchanged glances, both of them giving a relieved smile as they looked back down at Raz.

"You really are something, Agent Aquato."

[eddiemunsonappreciationsociety]

MY WORD IS MY BOND

Part Eight: Your kiss rips through the shadows

reminder, this is Eddie Munson A/U

I tell Eddie to meet me in the park around the corner from my house the next morning. I end up getting up at 7 am feeling a little blurry around the edges.

I drink a large glass of lemon and rosemary water and feed Chance, before doing another protective shower. My butterflies are in overdrive as I pad to my bedroom. I select thick tights, a black mini skirt and an Adventure Time t-shirt. I layer on a cardigan and leather jacket along with some pink socks peeking over my black Docs.

Chance leaps about as I begin to ready what she recognises as her usual walking bits: poo bags, portable water bowl and bottle and finally her large black harness.

"Calm down little lamb," I giggle as I pet her with one hand and slide the harness over her head with the other. Once she's all snapped in I hook her lead and we leave the flat.

Elphaba spots us and walks with us for the first street and followed us for half a street before trotting off to go back to whatever shenanigans she was up to. Chance can sense my anxiety, stopping to look at me every few feet.

As I approach the gates of the park I spot Eddie right away. He's looking in the opposite direction, standing leaning against a brick pillar, dressed in skinny jeans, combat boots, a denim jacket and a Misfits t-shirt. A cigarette is dangling from his pouty mouth, eyes covered in dark wayfarers, and curly hair in an effortless shaggy cut, seemingly grown quite a bit overnight.

A breeze rushes past me towards Eddie and I see his nostrils flare and head snaps around to me. The grin that spreads across his face as he sees me, just like I'm his favourite person, literally makes me stop in my tracks. He saunters towards me, smile beaming, cupholder with two drinks balanced in one hand.

Chance is instantly interested in the man walking towards me, I watch as Eddie puts the coffee down, drops to his knees and puts his hand out as an offer to the dog. She sniffs him a few times before knocking his hand, her gesture to let him know she wants pets. He seems to know this and begins scratching her around the ears immediately.

"Do I get a hello like that?" I say after a minute.

He looks up at me with his goofy grin, both hands rapidly scratching the rolls around her neck.

"Wait your turn," he winks at me and I wish he wasn't playing around.

He stands up and brushes the knees of his jeans, picking up the drinks before leaning over and placing a kiss on my left cheek. Intense heat and electricity happen when his lips touch my skin. I see him jump back.

"Was that..." he pauses. "An electric shock?"

"No." I manage to gasp out, the feeling spreading through my body and I feel my face flush hard.

"Does that happen... often?"

"It's never happened to me before." My voice is embarrassingly squeaky.

"Interesting." I see Eddie mull over what is being said.

Chance pulls me towards the park, no time for romantic nonsense. I let her do so and we both fall into a nice place around the path. He hands me an iced latte from a coffee shop around the corner, I thank him and he takes his own espresso cup. I notice he waits until we walk past a recycling bin before discarding the cupholder. I must have been caught smirking because he nudges me with his elbow.

"Looking after the planet is punk rock." he nods at me.

"I obviously agree, nature is where my magic comes from."

We come to the clearing and I let Chance off her lead. She starts to zoom around us as I take a big drink of my coffee.

"So, you don't sparkle then?"

He snorts with laughter, and to my surprise, he leans over and takes my hand in his. The sparks happen, fireflies under skin, but neither of us pulls away.

"Is this ok?" he asks and gives my hand a little squeeze.

There is, what feels like, a steady stream of energy running between us.

"Yes," I say, so decisively I am taken aback by myself.

We stroll around the park for a while in silence, our hands swinging between us. I feel so... fresh and charged, being in nature and also being with Eddie. I feel like a silly teenager, absolutely thrilled to be holding hands and walking around.

"And no, I don't sparkle. The sun makes me tired and weak and hurts my eyes, but no burning or sparkling."

"I want to tell you about the incident your friend told you about." I sigh.

"Lily, you don't have to do that, you don't need to explain anything." he shakes his head at me, curls tumbling around his handsome face.

"We're being honest with each other, aren't we?"

"We are."

"So a few years back, witches were going missing, being found drained of blood. The worst spate of deaths for..."

"I remember, there were talks amongst our kind too," he says softly.

"It wasn't done subtly, I know amongst vampires, like witches, it's safer for us to keep hidden."

Our walk has slowed, Chance is keeping close now, sensing the change in tone.

"I found out who it was, tracked them down to the lair and we fought. Your friend's maker told him I nearly killed him - but the truth is we nearly killed each other. I don't even truly understand what happened. He came at me, super strength and speed and I saw him wielding my friend's powers and I saw red, literal red. The haze descended over me and this pulse of power leaves me."

I don't realise I've stopped, but Eddie pulls me gently to sit down on a bench and Chance lies down by my feet.

"And we were both knocked off our feet, I got up, and he didn't. I was so weak, I literally crawled outside, I was so sure I was going to die - I managed to call someone to come and get me, and then I called the only vampire I knew and he said he'd come and get him and then I passed out.

"I woke up in a coven house a week later, my hair went white from the power drain and the colour never came back. My magick took a long time to come back, we were concerned that it wasn't going to come back. It took months for me to recover, but eventually, everything

was restored, except for my red hair."

I keep my eyes fixed on the floor, hands wringing each other as my heart is racing. I haven't thought about that night for some time and even just relaying it I feel beads of sweat at the back of my neck and my breathing comes fast.

Eddie's hands suddenly grasp mine and I look at him, his dark eyes are so full of emotion. My eyes drop again and he gives my hands a squeeze. I feel a rush of energy and emotion run between us and my heart slows.

"Look at me," Eddie's voice is soft, crooning. I lift my eyes to his. "You're safe now."

His face is so close to mine, I am swimming in the pools of midnight that are his eyes. I take in his handsome face, the stubble on his chin, I can smell him, vanilla, leather and tobacco and something else... I can taste his breath on my lips... fuck.

He pulls back, still keeping his large hands around mine.

"I use blood banks to feed." Eddie begins and it's his turn to look away as he speaks. "I swap three bags of mine for a bag of whatever they have in surplus."

I am surprised at this, but I do suppose it makes sense. Vampire blood has a lot of different properties when infused into someone it heals, and makes your bones and muscles stronger. I also know that vampire blood, when drunk from the source, and when there's nothing to heal, the blood circulates in your body and leaves you feeling, from what I hear, pure euphoria.

"To make a vampire you have to drain a human's blood almost all the way, before getting them to drink vampire blood, or a human has to lose almost all their own blood and can be transfused and the change would start."

"I didn't know about the transfusion thing, for turning I mean." I cringe at my dumb response.

"Nor did the nurse who tried to save me."

I feel my eyes widen in response, eyebrows shooting up into my fringe.

"I was overdosing, in the back of someone's van in the eighties, and they crashed, and I Went through the window and lost a lot of blood. I needed a transfusion and the nurse had a deal with a vamp going on, but he never warned her about someone who had lost so much..."

"Eddie," I say quietly, and he finally looks at me. "Did you have to deal with everything on your own?"

"No, almost. But the nurse realised what was happening to me and got in contact with her vampire contact and he came and helped me. He had an inadvertent vampire child, but I was lucky, he was a good guy."

"Was?"

Eddie lets go of my hand, stands up and stretches his legs. He holds his hand out for me and I take it, allowing myself to be pulled up.

"Come on, I'll walk you home."

I sense the subject is not being blocked, but rather shelved for now. I put Chance back on her lead and we begin to head to the exit.

"You can't walk me home," I tell him as we approach the gates, still, hand in hand.

"Oh, ok, no I get it." he stops, rubbing his free hand through his curls.

"It's not like I don't want you to, it's that I genuinely don't think you'd make it through all the protections I have up."

He finds this absolutely hilarious.

"I love that, best excuse ever." he chuckles, shaking his head.

"I'll work on taking them down-" I begin.

"Nuhuh, keep them up. You take Chance home, and I'll send a cab when you're ready. We can go for some brunch."

"Yes sir," I giggle, fake saluting at him.

My words make his dark eyes grow darker and the look on his face makes my insides twist.

"You can't play with me like that," he grins devilishly as he leans in and places a lingering kiss on my cheek.

I close my eyes and savour the feeling of his lips on my skin.

"I'll see you soon," he murmurs against my cheek before turning on his heel and walking off in the opposite direction. 

Part One:

Part Two:

Part Three:

Part Four:

Part Five:

Part Six:

Part Seven:

[imsailorpluto]

Island - 아일랜드

thoughts pt xyz, pre-finale

It all started with a few cool gifs on suggested for you page. Then I found the show and watched the first part. Next thing you know, I was reading the old manhwa, it was like discovering oasis in the middle of a desert. At first I was ecstatic but then disappointment hit me and I tried to brush it off. I thought reading manhwa would give me some solid answers regarding drama. Despite the fact it didn't, reading this unfinished masterpiece was extremely enjoyable. There is a new remake of manhwa, which I'm not a big fan of and honestly doubt I'll be finishing it (but you never know, curiosity does wonders if applied constructively).

The thing is, I'm in love with the old graphics of Island. This is it for me. I don't want the reboot. I want the old manhwa to continue where it stopped. That's Island.

If you've meet Pan and Miho through manhwa, then watching the drama might be quite shocking. These two (four??) characters only resemble each other. As a matter of fact, atmospheres these two products bring are not comparable at all. The only consistency that keeps binding manhwa and drama seems to be Johan or John, whatever you want to call him, although even he was wrongfully neglected too many times. He isn't a weak boy who can easily be stopped by someone pulling on his hoodie, and although such depiction does contribute to his cute image, it also contributes to making him look weak. That, he most certainly is not, which is greatly covered by manhwa.

Liking Johan is as easy as breathing. He deserves the world. If that character came to life and asked for anything, my card would fall out of the wallet and start hitting the desk all by itself that instant. No questions asked. The end.

While this isn't an attempt to draw parallels between drama and manhwa, I can't help but think why the writers chose their approach of bringing many tremendous changes. There's so much potential in the story and character development, but that's all. It's just the potential. Miho is regressing as a character as drama continues in pt 2, and so is Pan. And all for the sake of recycling an overused love story.

Just don't mess with the original code if it works, ok?

I can't deal with this pairing. Yes, it was cute at first how Miho and Pan interacted in part 1. They made my heart flutter. It's something about Pan's lack of interest and Miho's character portrayal in part 1 along with her fascination with Pan in those very first episodes that made their dynamics charming. Their toxic interaction tickled my imagination, just like everyone else's. Anticipation of possible romance between these two fit in there perfectly. However, actually going a step further in a way it was executed (in ep 10) feels inconsistent with the previous events.

Can't we have yearning and bond as deep as the sea that isn't romantic? Because their bond was pretty special. She actually needed him to protect her from lust demons. She was desperate at this point. It was either she dies or she hires a "killer" to protect her.

What's wrong with "I'm a half-demon and would kill you but you pay me well so I'm not going to" or "I promised not to let those demons harm you and that alone is the reason I am there for you, don't be fooled". Can't we have a human falling for a half-demon who's been out of touch with his humanity for so long that he doesn't even take Miho's feelings (in development) seriously?

It didn't felt right when Pan pushed Miho's head into the desk in part 1, but something about Miho reaching out to him nonetheless makes all the difference here. That's the point. That's them.

Couldn't writers work more on that toxicity, since that's how their relationship started in the first place? Somehow we got damsel in distress and knight in a shining armor instead, even for a brief moment in ep 10. I love a good romance but the drastic shift from their original selves doesn't sit right with me. Characters went from 2.0 to beta-testing mode.

Appealing to the masses just doesn't seem like a suitable explanation anymore. Someone who is only getting familiar with Island through watching the drama will almost certainly get awfully confused before disappointment hits them, let's keep it real. Wrapping up is rather clumsy and episodes leave impression as if different crews worked separately on filming. Making one slow burner episode in a 12 episode challenge is something most would frown upon. Making more than one slow burner episode while not resolving so many important issues most definitely won't sit right with the audience. Well, it's done. Whether we like it or not.

Then there's Gungtan, a whole mess of a character. Beautiful. Tragic. Broken. Beyond repair. But only on the surface.

While the old manhwa has John in the position of writer's personal punching bag, in drama that special place is reserved for both Pan and Gungtan. Gungtan appears in the remake of manhwa for the first time and his purpose there is killing Pan, apparently. That's as far as I've got, which is really not even half-way through. In drama, however, writers put him through hell and back, for the sake of creating a generic super-villain. It's been implied that his purpose is killing Wonjeong/Miho, but something doesn't feel right about this. Again.

My what will be what now? Honey, can we talk about this? You know I want only what's best for you. Let's have some nice warm tea, I've even baked you your favourite cookies. Let's take a shower, put on some fresh clothes and then we can go to the park and have a little picnic out in the sun. Come on now.

Writers, why couldn't you make a choice on time and stick to it? Why would anyone appreciate this poor and hurried attempt of vilifying? Are we building a complex character who is also a villain? Are we adding some very realistic depths to his character and making him look more human? Or are we making a simple cold-blooded murderer without a proper backstory because there is simply no humanity in him to begin with and therefore this whole narration is useless? What the hell are we doing? We can't do both at once. Because I'm pretty sure accidentally turning him into an actual protagonist of the show in few easy steps cannot be "fixed" by a (useless/pointless) shocking mass murder, preceded by lovey-dovey fabrication pulled out of thin air. Only to bring him back to factory settings from part 1 all over again. I'm taking it as screenwriter's cry for help, nothing more and nothing less. Did that second mass murder even happen? Not in my head it didn't.

Fear of the audience favorizing Gungtan, murderer of the whole religious sect of child abusers, over a forced cliché beauty and a beast love story, between a damsel in distress and a morally enlightened demon-slayer who is half demon himself, is very real. God forbid that happens, of course. Well, it's happening anyways and no cheap trick will stop it. He stole the show, it's done.

We. Love. Gungtan.

May the babygirlification begin. Starting sequence in 3, 2, 1

Leaving manhwa aside, the series had a huge potential to go in so many different directions, without even following original plotline. That's exactly what happened, it went into too many different directions at the same time and ended up being a huge mess difficult to clean up and wrap up. The only thing that makes me cling to it is the genre it represents and what's left of main characters, as each of them has their own well distinguishable charm. I'm loving the series, despite what it turned into.

It's like putting on every piece of clothing you ever looked good in, all at once, at the same time, because, well, you think you'll look even better. And it doesn't work that way. Or buying all the finest ingredients you could find and thinking it will make the food taste heavenly but instead you've got served Rachel Green’s Thanksgiving Trifle, so what do we do now?

All in all, it's easy to conclude even writers got lost in redefining already well defined plotlines, so nobody truly knows what is going on and why. Formulas for success got mixed up pretty badly. Even without taking manhwa in consideration, there's that bitter-sweet taste. Nothing is clear and everything's been mushed. It takes some time for impressions to set, but as time goes by, the less I am happy with the final result.

It's gonna be better next time. Hwaiting!

Pluto's out

[realhousewives-fan]

The Sparkling Taglines of Beverly Hills

Better late than never. I love that they’re all dressed in red in their opening scene, and I think it’s because of the finale last season where they celebrated the Chinese New Year.

The color red brings good luck into the new year, so I thought either the women or the Bravo producers organized that.

Did they know that they needed good luck this season? Or was it just to celebrate it? It was just an interesting detail for me.

1) Crystal Kung Minkoff

Crystal has my favorite tagline this season. I loved her tagline. 

I don’t want her to get the baton from Kyle Richards of having taglines about “this town” or “in Beverly Hills” though. In season 11 her tagline was:

“Hollywood is full of pretenders, and I slay them all.”

But I like her taglines! I really do, I can’t help it.

But if you think about her season, it’s strange that her tagline talks about how “talk can cost you” when she alluded to Sutton Stracke saying something extremely damaging this season. 

It actually backfired on her, which makes this a self-dig, in a way.

But is it rather a dig at Erika Girardi? They had an argument where Erika refused to show empathy for the victims, which frustrated her.

No matter who or what Crystal had in mind for this tagline, I think it stands excellent on its own.

2) Garcelle Beauvais

At this point I might just genuinely love Garcelle and everything she says or does. This one is short and simple, but I like that statement from her.

I think it has something to do with Dorit Kemsley’s dig at her at the reunion where she accused Garcelle of doing things just to stay relevant.

“I don’t need the spotlight – I shine just fine.”

3) Sutton Stracke

Sutton is delightfully shady. I knew I loved her from the moment she mocked Teddi Mellencamp Arroyave’s outfit. 

Her tagline in season 11 was a mouthful, but it was true to her snobbiness.

With this tagline she plays with her feud with Lisa Rinna about the Elton John charity tickets, and I love her for it! This is how you do taglines!

4) Erika Girardi

This is controversial to me, that I like Erika’s tagline. It’s like an extension of her threat to Sutton in season 11. I think I like it, because it’s honest.

She also terrifies the hell out of me with this statement, and I can only imagine how the other women must feel about her.

I know that Kyle is afraid of her. I don’t know it for a fact, I just know that it’s true. 

But yeah, Erika is selfish, self-righteous, delusional and a bully. And I’ve no doubt that she’s dangerous too.

5) Lisa Rinna

Next up is Rinna… We’re midway of the list right now and this is where things are starting to decline for me.

“Hi, I’m Karma – and yes, I am a bitch.”

I didn’t really like it from the beginning, as Rinna’s bitchiness has gotten tiresome to me. 

But Rinna has been in rare form this season. Unreasonably bitchy!

It’s understandable that she’s struggling with the death of her mother but do to others as you want others to do to you. 

And it seems like Karma is sadly giving Rinna what she deserves right now.

6) Kyle Richards

Now, I can appreciate that Kyle has taken a break from talking about “Beverly Hills” and “this town”, but if she’s going to proclaim to be “the real deal”, then I’ll rather have another tired and recycled tagline from her. 

Is Kyle trying to make me believe that she’s not a pretender? Please… This one is laughable to me.

7) Dorit Kemsley

Dorit has had a tough season as she experienced a terrifying home invasion, and she alludes to that robbery in her tagline. 

But I’m sorry, I have to call bullshit on that one. Dorit is a materialistic girl, a fashionista. 

I understand that her things mean nothing compared to her family, but she cares about nice things. Let’s get real.

8) Diana Jenkins

Speaking of having nice things… I disliked this tagline from the moment I heard it. 

It’s the kind of nonsense that Dorit once had, and even Taylor Armstrong! Like this isn’t even original! Taylor’s said:

“It may look like I have it all – but I want more…”

They’re close to identical, and I didn’t like those either. We’re now at the bottom of the barrel and scrapping for relevance. 

Diana was a flop, and her tagline just proves what kind of mediocre nonsense we get with her.

[my-evil-brain]

I am so tired of all this bullshit. I'm starting to feel like an old Russian dude or some fkin shit.

Im tired of arbitrary bullshit rules (because of a lie). Recycle, but 95% goes to landfill anyway. You cant do this or that because of one idiot in (place state or city here). Cant say or talk about shit because it "COULD" offend. I'm sorry if you're offended suck it the fuck up. It's not my lifes ambition or job to give a shit about EVERYONE'S feelings.

I'm tired of not being able to trust ANYONE in this fucking world. I can trust maaaybe 4 people, 2 absolutely. Everyone else can suck it. People ask me why, and i ask them stuff like, "vote for trump?" If the answer is yes, i can't trust you. January sixth? "Didn't happen", equals Surprise, i cant trust you. Flat eather, nope. Christian "in todays market" nope. Republican? Then fuck no i cant trust you. Doctors? I cant trust them to know how to do their jobs with what ive seen n heard. By this i mean literally dr. saying things like "dont know what it is, if you find out let me know". Pertaining to? It was a fucking podiatrist looking at toenail fungus. Then theres trust the vaccine commercials right aftet pharma lawsuit compensation commercials.

The worlds on fire. Nobody in power gives a shit about the environment, doesn't matter their words n proclamations mean shit compared to actions n actual words spoken in meetings n hot mics about how it doesn't matter cutting back wont help so keep going as is. Everybody hates everyone right now. These idiots around here actually side with Putin because "trump liked him." Siding with Hitler (yes, actual hitler appologists) because of what's happening with Israel right now, "maybe Hitler was right with the genocide n all that.

Everything is getting so arbitrarily compartmentalized to such an ineffective way. That nobody knows whose job it is to do what job, for who n when , in government offices and organizations.

Then the whole "women afraid to have a child" for fear of ANYTHING needing immediate attention because of the lack of dr.s an doctors afraid to treat women for fear of legal troubles if anything they do happens around the womans miscarriage or causes it. Women can't even save their own lives or go to a Dr. in some places because the doctors won't see the women without a husband/mans approval.

This world, these people, the willful ignorance, the hatred on women and foriegners, and anyone that happens to be different. The out right "fuck you" from corporations openly admittedly screwing over people n nobody cares to do shit about it. Congressman n women, believing their constitutes shouldn't get what they (as a body) ask for, because would you (paraphrase) "give a child cake for breakfast if they asked? Sometimes they don't know whats good for them n you gotta just say NO. You cant just GIVE them what they (collectively) want." Politicians and private citizens with so much fking money n public persona that they're untouchable with their crimes and offences. Lets be real, to many i know personally say Bill clinton should be locked up for that blow job. But trump paying off porn stars after they sucked him off n continuously lying about a defamation case a woman brought against him n she won on rape allegations, while making fun of her and keeping up his lies about her. Even after getting slammed again right after for claiming the same lies against the woman, Trumpers believe and republicans that THATS ALLLL OK but Clinton must suffer legally for a bj. Uuuuug

[badbxarwrld]

My Rollercoaster Ride at Orlando Pride: A Day of Surprises and Decisions

Hey there, fellow adventurers! Buckle up as I take you on a whirlwind journey through my recent escapade at Orlando Pride.

Picture this: a road trip that involved a few hours of driving, a hotel reservation the night before the event, and an unexpected detour into the world of timeshares. Yes, you read that right – timeshares.

It all started when my significant other and I checked into our hotel, blissfully unaware of the twist fate had in store for us. As we strolled through the lobby, we stumbled upon an opportunity too tempting to resist – a timeshare proposal. They dangled a $150 gift card and the promise of 7 days at any resort in exchange for just 2.5 hours of our my precious time. How could we say no? Little did we know that this quirky encounter would set the tone for a day filled with surprises and dilemmas.

Fast forward to the main event – Orlando Pride. It was all sunshine and rainbows until we encountered the not-so-glamorous aspects of a public event for the local community. Yes, the inclusivity and community spirit were fantastic, but they came hand in hand with a few headaches – people expecting freebies left and right. After 12 long hours, we managed to break even, excluding our travel expenses.

Now, let's talk numbers. The cost of securing a snug 10x10 marked pavement for our booth was a tad over $400. Add to that the considerable amount of time I'd invested in painstakingly crafting products and creating a handmade recyclable display for our brand. Trust me, having my back arched over all day didn't do wonders for my mood.

Thankfully, my incredible partner stepped in to handle sales for the rest of the day, saving me from turning into a human pretzel. But as we wrapped up the event, I found myself in a contemplative mood. Was all this effort worth it for my brand and, more importantly, for my happiness?

Before I dive headfirst into an 8:30 AM timeshare presentation, I decided to pen down this blog post (UPDATED - I WAS UNLAWFULLY DISCRIMINATED AGAINST...so the presentation never happened. Click here to learn more about what to do in cases of unlawful discrimination). In it, we'll dissect the world of business expos, weighing the pros and cons to help you, dear reader, make an informed decision about whether they're worth your while. So, grab your coffee and join me as we explore the exciting universe of business expos and find out if they're the right fit for your brand and your happiness.

Navigating the World of Business Expos for Small Artists: Is It Worth the Canvas?

Hello fellow artists and entrepreneurs! Today, we're diving headfirst into the realm of business expos, but with a twist tailored specifically for small artists. We'll explore the ins and outs of these events, considering factors like cost, venue, weather, and how showcasing your curated crafts can truly impact your artistic journey.

Setting the Stage: What Are Business Expos for Small Artists?

Picture this: Business expos for small artists are like vibrant canvases where creative minds get to display their work to an eager and appreciative audience. These events offer a unique opportunity to showcase your artistry, connect with potential customers, and build your brand.

Brushing Up on the Pros of Business Expos for Small Artists

1. Exposure and Networking: Business expos provide a golden opportunity to expose your artwork to a diverse and enthusiastic audience. Plus, they offer the chance to network with potential buyers, collaborators, and fellow artists, expanding your artistic horizons.

2. Professional Presentation: Just like a carefully crafted piece of art, your booth at a business expo should be a masterpiece. These events offer a platform to meticulously design and present your crafts, leaving a lasting impression on attendees.

3. Streamlined Decision-Making: Business expos simplify the decision-making process for potential buyers. Your unique creations can stand out in the crowd, making it easier for art enthusiasts to fall in love with your work.

4. Cost-Efficiency: For small artists, sharing the costs of exhibiting at business expos can make this marketing opportunity financially feasible, especially when compared to more costly advertising options.

Considering the Artistic Challenges

1. Weather Woes: The elements can be a factor for outdoor expos. Rain, heat, or cold can affect your display and potential buyers' willingness to browse.

2. Venue Matters: The location of the expo can significantly impact your success. Assess if the venue aligns with your target audience and artistic style.

3. Costs Can Add Up: While sharing costs can be an advantage, expenses can still rise, especially with unforeseen costs and fees.

4. Captivating the Crowd: Drawing attention in a sea of artistic talent can be challenging. Your booth's design and your ability to engage with visitors are crucial.

Is It Worth It? Let's Unpack 5 Key Factors for Small Artists

1. Accommodations: Weigh the cost of participating in business expos, including booth fees, against the potential sales and exposure your artwork could gain.

2. Weather Watch: Consider how outdoor expos might be impacted by the weather. Prepare accordingly and choose the right season for your art.

3. Venue Selection: Ensure that the chosen venue aligns with your target audience and your art's style. Location can make all the difference.

4. Artistic Ownership: Think about whether owning a booth at a business expo fits your long-term artistic goals. It's a platform to showcase your talent, but it may come with its challenges.

5. Flexibility Factor: Assess the flexibility of business expo participation compared to alternative marketing strategies tailored to artists.

Exploring Artistic Alternatives

If business expos don't align with your artistic journey, there are alternative paths to consider:

1. Online Art Markets: Virtual art markets offer a cost-effective way to showcase and sell your creations to a global audience.

2. Artistic Communities: Joining artist communities and networking events can help you connect with fellow creatives and art enthusiasts.

3. Local Galleries: Exploring local galleries and exhibitions can provide another avenue to showcase your work and build your reputation.

4. Social Media Showcases: Leverage the power of social media platforms to display your art and engage with art lovers worldwide.

In conclusion, business expos tailored to small artists can be an exciting canvas for your artistic journey. However, the decision to participate should align with your artistic goals, budget, and the unique challenges you may face. While business expos offer a platform to shine, it's essential to explore alternative strategies that cater to your artistic vision and provide flexibility in the ever-evolving art world. Join me on this creative adventure, and let's uncover the truth about the world of business expos for small artists together!

[mtnkat3]

*Note= incomplete. Such a hard day! But needed to post it.

Su.10.2.2022 10.41am est.

Dear Lord,

I am having a terribly difficult morning!

I cannot calm down.

I am praying

But I think that needing to be outside, fresh air, away from this house, constant coughing, not being able to be still, high bp, blood sugar, & heart rate, heck hard to take my meds! Hard to think ..

Are all my symptoms.

My soul is struggling.

DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN HELP ME PLEASE!?!?!?!

I MUST GIVE IT ALL TO YOU LORD!!!

From why I am so anxious & out of control, which is foreign to me.

[Hard to even write this! Struggling to think!]

I'm listening to church svc.

Interesting that pastor is preaching on the Love Chapter [1 Corinthians 13], & Creation, of man & woman. Helpmeet.

[Biblegateway.com]

"

13 If I speak in the tongues[a] of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast,[b] but do not have love, I gain nothing.

4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 11 When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. 12 For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

"

Sanctification.

..?

Repentance.

Glorified.

11.41am

Finally got my meds in.

[I've been up since 8.30a, but bed at 2.20am

=not enough sleep, not drinking water enough.

12.03p

And Lord, You have given me some lightbulb moments. As taking out recycling.

[And as svc went off & turned on radio first song.. hard to love, Lee Brice. Then..

Slow Ride, Foghat. Hm.🤓🤔

My lightbulbs..💡

1- it's my body telling me this house is too much for me. Allergens, too much stuff!

[Ugh! Work this t! Work it!]

-a person [wh] that doesn't understand compassion.

[Sigh. Genius IQ isn't gonna help this.]

Yes I am slowly calming. Because I have been praying.

I lost some of my other points. Sigh.

It has been a difficult, harrowing morning.

I'm calmest outside.

Which is so telling!

Especially with all the ragweed.

My coughing too.

I think the main thing is this..

The adversary lead me astray.

And

I know that God wants my attention.

It's why He has let me struggle.

I need to learn this lesson.

~GOD COMES FIRST.~

[I've been writing as God gives me clear moments. It's why is taking me so long today.]

12.50p

&..

I need to be turning to God for comfort, solace, understanding.

Sigh.

I am SO sorry Lord!

Why am I having such difficulty with this?

Because MY daughter, the adversary knows you are scared, lonely, confused,... is using the tests with the Mate.../s ..

Lord?

Yes MY daughter.

There are answers to your questions.

TURN TO ~ME~!!!

AND YOU WILL BE STRENGTHENED, RESTORED, CALMED & FIND THE PATH I MEANT FOR YOU TO BE ON!

I'm afraid because of the unknown & everything happening at once???

YES DAUGHTER!

& because I've felt ... alone? In different ways than I understand & am use to?

YES, MY DAUGHTER! NO HUMAN CAN EVER COMPARE TO MY LOVE FOR YOU!!! I CREATED YOU AS I WANT YOU T!!!

*4.57pm

Couldn't eat at wendy's. Home depot was difficult. Wh. Ugh. Sigh.

God... I love You. Please forgive me.

And place me how & where You want me to be.

So that I am the best daughter to You I can be.

And I pray to earn & become worthy of the soul Mate... /s.. ?

Because I don't know..

That You Created me from the side of. To be with. To be for.

To be the Helpmeet of.

I need Your Help Lord.

I cannot live another day like this.

[My first counseling appt tomorrow @11am.]

I need to work on my sleep, eating better [at all!], drinking enough water/g0, journaling properly.

And going to You Lord!

Your scared, humbled, brokenness .. listening closely & carefully stepping.

Trying to figure this all out... daughter,

~Tijgeress kat Phoenix.

5.05pm

👩🤓☔😖😥⚓🙏🙇‍♀️🌂🔗⛓🧰⌚

⚡🌠🗝🔱⚜💝♾🌎🧭🕯

Diary & gifs. 5.17pm

[hellfirexhoe]

Thursdays | Eddie Munson x Bitchy Reader

summary: This follows the events of part 2 directly. Eddie and reader are enemies who hate fuck.

1,900+ words

warnings: 18+ only, minors dni, swearing, name calling, mention of drugs, reference to roofies, enemies to lovers fuck buddies, rough sex, p in v with a condom, sex in a semi-public place, ANGST, female reader

Series Masterlist

It had been less than 24 hours since you left Eddie's after a quick detour to the pharmacy. The usual routine goes something like screw Eddie until you're both exhausted, go home, shower and then continue to ignore his presence the following day.

So with these two things considered why has Eddie Munson been staring at you with his ridiculous baby cow eyes throughout the whole day? No one else had really noticed thankfully, except Chrissy.

"What did you do to that poor boy last night?" Chrissy asked as she followed Eddie's burning gaze across the canteen straight to the back of your head.

"I swear, I didn't do anything."

Chrissy shakes her head, "No, somethings up. Did you guys do butt stuff?!"

"Chrissy I am begging you to please shut the fuck up." You manage to speak through gritted teeth, pointedly looking at the rest of the table who are all in earshot of your conversation.

"Oh right. Sorry." Chrissy then speaks louder, "Hey, do you have that textbook I leant you last week?"

"What textbook? What are you talking about?"

"You know, the physics textbook that you said you would bring in for me today?" Chrissy's eyes are about to pop out of her skull as she gives you a stare so intense it rivals Eddie's.

"Ohh, yes I have the textbook, I think I left it in my car."

"Let's go for a walk."

Neither of your performances were particularly Oscar worthy but thankfully they were all discussing Jason's party on Saturday so no one paid much attention to you both leaving.

The parking lot was virtually empty so Chrissy rounds on you the second you were outside,

“Spill.”

“Nothing to spill Chrissy, nothing out of the ordinary happened. Just a small hiccup.”

“A hiccup?”

“Turns out he’s not so hot on date checking condoms.”

“And?”

“It split?”

Chrissy starts laughing, “Oh, my god. I can’t believe I’m going to be an auntie to a little Munson.”

“Fuck off, that’s not happening. Morning after pill.”

"If it works."

"So not funny, Chrissy."

"That doesn’t explain why he’s looking at you so weirdly.”

“I don’t know, maybe the freak is hoping I didn’t take it. He made a comment about wanting to see me with a small bump in the uniform.”

Chrissy is helpless with laughter as the bell rings, in fact your whole walk to Spanish is accompanied by a soundtrack of snickers.

Your usual desk mate is back so Eddie is forced to his normal seat at the back of the classroom, its not much of a reprieve since you can feel his stare burning a hole through your head. Determined to keep ignoring him, you don’t turn, you stay focused on your lesson. Until a balled up piece of paper smacks into the back of your head, you whip round, ready to speak but your teacher beats you to it, stooping down to pick up the ball of paper,

“Mr Munson, something you’d like to share with the class?” You hold your breath as the ball of paper is unraveled, your mind spirals as you contemplate all the incriminating things Eddie could have possibly written,

“Please focus on your work instead of distracting students who have a hope of passing this year.” The ball of paper is thrown into the recycling bin, evidently blank of any words. Eddie fidgets some but returns to his work. He’s first out of the door when the bell rings, and you begin to relax, thinking maybe he’s just been messing with you. You catch up with Chrissy in the hall and begin your walk to the next lesson, when you are suddenly yanked from the hall and into a closet.

“Okay you are seriously pissing me off now, what the fuck do you want Eddie?”

Eddie chews his cheek, “Hi?”

“You have not been staring at me like a psycho all day and grabbing me into a closet to just say hi. Is this about last night? I took the pill when I got home.”

“Uh, no not about that. Glad to hear it though, your body your choice, girl power.” Eddie is being infinitely more awkward than usual.

“What is it then? You’ve got like a minute before I’m late.”

“Are you going to Jason’s party this Saturday?”

“Please. Please tell me you are not about to fucking ask me to bring you to that party.”

“No, I was more wondering if I could convince you not to go.”

“And do what instead? Sit in on your fucking d&d game? Hang out in the trailer watching movies? Piss off. Why can’t I go?”

“Some of the guys were, uh, placing an order.”

“Okay?” Drugs were commonplace at Jason’s parties, it wasn’t exactly some huge secret.

“Some of that shit I’m not going to supply. But I know that there are some dealers who don’t exactly have any moral codes.”

“Eddie. Everyone knows there are drugs at parties, I’ve taken drugs at parties. I really don’t get why you’re freaking out about this. It’s not like I’m your girlfriend, we’re not even friends.”

“Okay fine, just. Watch your drinks ‘kay? Don’t let anyone get your drinks.” Eddie offers you a weak smile and you rolls your eyes,

“Do you think I’m stupid Eddie? Let me tell you someth-”

The second bill trills outside.

“Shit, now I’m late.”

“So ditch?”

“Its this attitude that’s the reason you’re going to miss graduating again.”

“You wound me. C’mon I’m sure the two of us can find something fun to do instead of going to those boring lessons.” Eddie steps closer to you,

“We’re not fucking on school property.” You open the door but Eddie easily shuts it against your strength.

“Okay, so what is your excuse going to be for being so late? Plus if people happen to look out of the window and see us leaving this closet together they’ll know. They’ll know that you’re my easy slut.” Eddie whispers the words you spoke last night against your ear, the darkness in his voice making you shiver.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“That’s a yes then.” Eddie picks you up, big hands cupping your thighs as he places you to sit on a cabinet. You go to start taking your uniform off and he shakes his head,

“No time for that.”

“Liar, you just want to fuck me in my cheerleader uniform.”

“Guilty.” As he speaks Eddie is undoing his jeans with one hand and teasing you through your underwear with the other, his skilled fingers tracing circles around your clit as you shut your eyes and lean back against the wall. You hiss at the sudden cold feeling as Eddie’s rings touch your sensitive skin when he pulls your underwear to the side, now teasing your bare pussy with his cock.

“You’d better have a condom with you.” 

“Hmm, what if I want to try bareback with you?” Eddie whispers in your ear,

“Absolutely fucking not.” You tense up and begin to push him away, closing your legs.

“Relax. I was kidding.” Eddie rolls his eyes at you as he rummages through his wallet to find a condom, before he can rip it open you snatch it from his hands and eye the date.

“We’re not having a repeat of last night.” You glare at him as you return the satisfactorily dated condom to him, “Also its bad to keep them in wallets.”

“Jesus christ, do you ever shut up?” Eddie grunts as he rolls the condom on and pulls your body flush against his, his cock immediately bottoming out in you, earning a quiet whimper from you in response to the sudden fullness. Eddie gives you a moment to adjust and places his hand over your mouth with a cheeky grin as he starts to roughly pound into you, making you moan loudly against his hand.

“Such a good little slut for me, taking this big cock instead of going to a boring lesson.” Eddie purrs at you quietly, eyes focused on how good his dick looks covered in your slick every time he withdraws. He looks away for a second just to admire how undone you’re becoming, he can feel your drool against his palm, hear your muffled cries. He takes his hand away from your mouth and shushes you,

“Naughty girl better be quiet, otherwise someone might come looking for those pretty little sounds you’re making and see you getting fucked by the freak in your uniform.” You bite your lip as he starts rubbing your clit with a smug smirk on his face, “Am I still bad at this?” His thrusts do not falter even for a second as he waits for your answer,

“ah, uh... fucking... awful.” You manage to pant out unconvincingly as Eddie laughs quietly,

“Aw, maybe I should stop if this is so terrible for you.”

You shake your head frantically, “n,no stop...ping. Practice.”

“If you weren’t such a bitch I’d say you look cute when you’re begging me not to stop fucking you.” Eddie is picking up the pace, feeling how close you’re getting by how tight your walls are around his cock, hands pulling up your top so he can watch your tits bounce with every thrust and he groans at the sports bra he uncovers,

“Hate these fucking things. Keeps you far too un-bouncy.” Eddie unclasps it with ease, not removing it just pulling it below your tits so he can get his favorite view, “You like being my little cock sleeve don’t you?”

“ ‘m not yours.”

“No?” Eddie slows his thrusts, a small smile on his face,

“N-no, I’ll never be yours. T-this is all there is.”

“So I really can’t make you not go to that stupid party on Saturday?”

You shake your head, “An’ you can’t stop me from fucking someone else at the party.”

Eddie grabs your jaw angrily, almost possessively,

“Then I’ll just have to fucking ruin you for anyone else then.” He pulls you off the cabinet and turns you around, forcing you to bend at the waist over the cabinet and wastes no time in slamming back into you, hands gripping your skirt so tight you faintly hear some threads breaking. You start to moan in spite of yourself, volume increasing the closer you get to finishing, everything around you starting to fade away,

“Fucking shit, shut up!” Eddie hisses as he sticks his fingers in your mouth, muffling the sounds elicited by you, with his other hand he’s rubbing your clit roughly, until finally your legs are shaking, you’re biting down on his fingers and clamping around his cock while your orgasm takes over, your still shaking slightly when Eddie lets off a string of curse words as he cums, his cock twitching violently against your sore walls. He pulls out slowly, determined to make you really feel the loss of him. Once he’s out, he tucks your underwear back over your sore and soaked pussy.

“Think you’ll be able to walk for the rest of the day?” He teases you as you straighten up and readjust your clothes.

“Fucker. You know I have practice after school today.”

“I do indeed.”

The bell chimes from the hallway and you step out into the wave of students that passes. Eddie waits a few more minutes, straightening his clothes, waiting for the chatter to quieten. Once he’s certain no one who saw you leave the closet would see him leaving the same closet he steps out.

[taliasburns]

the female brain is a wonderful place

[storiesforallfandoms]

you’re my best friend ~ pete davidson

word count: 2002

request?: yes!

“pete friends to lovers”

description: in which two best friends get super sappy while drunk

pairing: pete davidson x female!reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol and weed usage

masterlist (one, two)

You were already two glasses of wine deep when Pete showed up, two cases of beer in his hands. He had a look of excitement on his face, which slowly fell when he realized there was no one else in your apartment.

“Everyone else cancelled,” you answered his unasked question.

“Everyone?” Pete asked.

You nodded. “Prior commitments or just not wanting to come or some shit.”

Pete came over and plopped himself down on the couch next to you. The case of beer was at his feet and he popped it open, taking out a bottle and immediately chugging it. You looked at him in amusement as he did so. Once he was finished, you asked, “Aren’t they warm?”

“Room temperature,” he corrected.

“Isn’t that gross?”

“A little, but obviously I have to catch up with you so we can be on even playing fields all night.”

You smiled and poured yourself another glass of wine as Pete opened another beer and started to drink again.

Between the heavy amounts of alcohol and the joint that Pete had brought, the two of you had gotten fucked up in no time. At some point you couldn’t even get up off the couch for more drinks, or for water that you both knew you should be drinking. The hangover you were going to have the next day was going to be killer, but in the moment neither one of you really cared.

You were both laid back on the couch, legs intertwined as you laughed at something Pete had said. It probably wasn’t even that funny, but in your inebriated state, everything was hilarious.

“You’re, like, my bestest friend, Pete,” you slurred. “No one else even bothered the show up, but you did!”

“I’m sure everyone else had like...stuff happening,” Pete said. “Adult things like...I don’t know...kids and taxes.”

You retched at the thought. “Yeah, no, I’m good with not having those adult things to do. Having kids, while extremely cute, is also extremely exhausting. But I don’t think anyone would’ve shown. No one else really...hangs out with me anymore.”

You laid your head back so you were looking at the ceiling. You could feel a lump growing in your throat and didn’t want Pete to see if you started crying. You knew this sudden emotion was most likely caused by the alcohol and the weed, but you also knew it was something genuine, a concern you had deep down that you had never voiced to anyone before.

You could hear Pete move to sit up and immediately turned your head away so he couldn’t see your face, even though you knew that looked more suspicious than anything.

“Everyone is busy, (Y/N),” he said, his voice soft. “I’m sure they’ll be able to hang out soon enough.”

“They’re not too busy to miss out on work get togethers, or going out with one another.” You sighed. “I know people grow apart and that’s just what happens when you grow up, I just didn’t think it was going to be all of my friends growing up and drifting apart all at the one time.”

“What am I, chopped liver?”

You giggled and sat up. The room spun around you as you did so and it felt like your stomach lurched. You had to take a moment to steady yourself before focusing your attention on Pete.

“I told you, you’re my bestest friend,” you said.

Pete’s smile slowly faded as he looked at you. “(Y/N), don’t cry please.”

You had forgotten about your emotional moment entirely. You wiped your cheek to find a wet streak running from your eye to your chin. You looked away from Pete again, suddenly feeling ashamed by your needless emotions. You were glad that the two of you were so drunk in that moment and would likely forget all of this the next day.

Pete’s hand lightly touched your chin, lifting it so that you were looking at him again. You looked into his eyes as he used his thumb to wipe the tears from your other cheek. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized how closely the two of you were sat together.

“I’ll always be here,” he assured you. “No matter how much we grow up or grow apart, I’ll always be one phone call away.”

You nodded, unable to get the words to unstick from your throat. You believed him, you knew he’d always be here.

The smell of beer and weed was strong as Pete leaned forward more, and normally you’d hate the smell combination. But you were too distracted by Pete’s eyes to notice, and a moment later you were too distracted by his lips on yours.

You had never viewed Pete as anything more than a friend before. You had grown up together. You were partners in crime since the first day you met in middle school. Your friends, and even your family, often made jokes that the two of you would end up together, but you both laughed it off. You were best friends, two peas in a pod, nothing more.

But now, with his lips moving against yours and his arms pulling you as close to him as you could get, you weren’t so sure. It could’ve been the drunken state the two of you were in, mixed with the emotions you were feeling just moments before. When the two of you sobered up the next day you may have not even remembered what happened, but in the moment you wanted all of him. You wanted his lips, his hands, his body, his heart, and you wanted to give him all of you in return.

His tongue brushed against your lips and you gladly let it in. It was wet and tasted like beer, so not the most romantic thing in the world, but it felt good in the moment. You felt like nothing could ruin what was happening, until your stomach lurched again.

You quickly pulled away from Pete and rushed to the bathroom. You didn’t even have time to kick the door closed behind you before you collapsed next to the toilet and threw up everything you had eaten and drank the past few hours. Pete followed closely behind you, pulling your hair back and gently rubbing your back. When you stopped throwing up for long enough, he got up to get you some water and made you drink it all before he did anything else.

“I didn’t think I was that bad of a kisser,” he joked. You glared at him over your shoulder before throwing up again.

Once you felt steady enough, Pete helped you to your feet. You brushed your teeth and took a mouthful of mouthwash in order to get rid of the taste of vomit. Pete helped you to your bedroom, where he had another glass of water and an Aspirin waiting for you.

“You’ll need that in the morning,” he said. “I’ll let you get changed.”

“You’ll stay with me though, right?” you asked. Suddenly you hated the thought of Pete having to leave.

He smiled. “Of course I will. I just want to give you some privacy while you change. You’re not supposed to see a girl naked till, like, the third date.”

You smiled back at him, a fuzzy feeling building inside of you at the thought of actually going on a date with Pete.

You changed into a pair of comfy pajamas and downed the glass of water Pete had left for you. You ventured out of your room to the kitchen to pour up another glass. You found Pete putting the bottles of beer in the recycling container and putting your glass in the sink.

“Why aren’t you as fucked up as I am right now?” you questioned.

“I could always handle my booze better than you,” he teased. You scowled and stuck your tongue out at him. He chuckled and put an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

After some convincing, Pete agreed to join you in bed. At first he laid a respectable distance away from you, but you moved close to him and placed your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, running his hands through your hair as your eyes became too heavy to stay open.

“You’ll regret this in the morning,” he murmured. “Or forget it completely.”

“Maybe,” you said, “but let’s wait for the morning to decide that.”

~~~~~~

When you woke up the next morning you groaned in pain. Your head felt heavy and like it had been stabbed by multiple little needles. You opened your eyes but had to shut them again immediately, hissing at the pain that small action caused.

Why the fuck did I drink so much last night? you questioned as you braced yourself and opened your eyes again.

You found yourself alone in bed, which didn’t seem too unusual until you remembered that you hadn’t been alone when you fell asleep. Pete had been there, more specifically he had been cuddling you.

You’ll regret this in the morning, you recalled him saying before you drifted off to sleep. You wondered if he had left before you had the chance to decide how you felt about the events of the night before.

You popped two Aspirin pills into your mouth and swallows them with a mouthful of water. You pulled yourself out of bed and slowly walked out of your room, the only speed you could manage in this state. You were halfway to your kitchen when you realized you were smelling something; bacon. You wondered where the smell was coming from, and didn’t have to look far to get the answer.

Pete was stood by your stove, two plates full of eggs and toast already sat next to him. When he heard you enter, he turned and greeted you with a smile.

“Good morning sleeping beauty!” he said. His loud voice pierced your ears and you quickly covered them and groaned. He chuckled. “You poor thing, you’re gonna hate today.”

“I already do,” you said. “Is that for me?”

He looked down at the plate of breakfast. “One of them is, yeah. Do you think you can keep it down?”

“I can try.”

The two of you sat at your dining room table and began to eat. Although your stomach still didn’t feel right, the food was definitely soaking up whatever alcohol was left in your system and thus was making the splitting headache you had subside just a little bit.

There was an awkward silence looming over the two of you. Despite what you thought the night before, you could still remember every detail; the emotional conversation, the kiss, the cuddling, how you felt when the latter two things were happening. You knew Pete remembered because he certainly wasn’t as fucked up as you were.

“Do you regret it?” you found yourself suddenly asking.

Pete looked up from his breakfast, fake confusion on his face. “What do you mean?”

You gave him a look. “Pete, I remember last night. I remember what we did, and what you said before I fell asleep.”

He sighed, turning his attention back to his food. “I don’t know...do you regret it?”

“I don’t,” you admitted. “If anything, I...I feel whatever the opposite of regret is. The only thing I regret is getting so drunk I threw up after we kissed.”

He smiled. “Yeah, that’s not exactly great timing.”

You looked at him, still waiting for his answer. Finally, he looked up at you again and said, “I don’t regret it either.”

“So what do we do now?” you asked.

Pete thought for a moment before saying, “I take you out on a date, one where we’re both completely sober, and we decide if we really want to do this. How does that sound?”

You smiled brightly at him. “I think that sounds like a great plan.”

[internalsealpanic]

Sungka

summary: You and Tim play sungka before your match.   a/n: I love playing sungka and sports festivals. That is the whole point of this fic. I’m using the rules me and my friends used as kids.  warning: Filipino reader because I am home and very self-indulgent. 

 You lean against the concrete barrier, tapping the tip of your shoe against the floor, watching the volleyball hit the string of triangle flags made of recycled chip bags. The plastic reflects the sunlight into your eyes. You hiss and turn away and miss the shot. You hear the roar of the crowd. You blink the burning light of your eyes only to see Tim walking towards you, awkwardly fidgetting his hands because the Palaro jerseys this year didn't come with pockets. They skimped out and woe is Tim who is suffering for it. 

 You rub the light from your eyes and wave at him. 

 He huffs unsympathetically as he leans against the barrier, hooking the front of his shoe on the concrete vegetation decorating the barrier. Tim rests his cheek on the heel of his palm as he watches the ball fly back and forth. "Is Cassie winning?"

 "I think. The sun keeps shining in my eyes."

 "How rude," Tim scoffs.

 You roll your eyes. "We should go." You adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder, the shells in the pocket clacking.

 "You sure you wanna miss this?" 

 You shrug. "Sure, you wanna lose to Jaime?"

 Tim smiles at you lopsidedly. "As long as I don't lose to Bart."

 "Not a miracle worker, squirt. That's on you."

 "So supportive," he scoffs. 

 You nudge your shoulder against his. "I'm helping you strategize, aren't I? And for free." Tim’s shoulder is warm from the contact. 

 Tim side-eyes you. "You're not even broke," he says, knocking a bony shoulder against yours.  It makes you smile and Tim has to turn away when his lips start to mimic the shape of yours.

 "Library?" he suggests, looking at the leaves of the mango tree as if they're the most interesting thing in existence. 

 "Can't scrabble up there, Cantine?"You say, poking his shoulder.

 Tim pushes your hand against your face. You pull it away and raise your hands in surrender. He tilts to the side. "Too noisy."

 You hum in agreement. Tim sticks his tongue out and you tap your chin. 

 "Fire escape," you say. "It'll be safe to strategize there."

Tim taps his foot against the rusty fire escape. He's pretty sure it hasn't been up to code since before you were born. You share a look before he shoves you. 

 You scowl at him and slap him lightly with your bag, muttering a word you shouldn't say this close to the school chapel. Tim is about to say something when you slap him again. He rubs his shoulder, scrunching his nose. 

 He follows you gingerly, listening to the metal screech under his weight. You pat the spot in front of you causing a collection of minute tremors. Somehow the fire escape doesn't fall apart or give you tetanus. "Relax Tim, it's perfectly safe."

 "Burned houses or no?" you ask, taking the board out of the bag. The glossy wood rich, dark, and inlayed with flowers as you run your hand over the pits carved into its surface.

 "Last time I checked, official matches didn't have the burned houses rule," he says, plopping in front of you. You flinch this time feeling the rickety structure move. "Relax (Y/n), it's perfectly safe."

 You shove the pouch of shells into his hand as violently as you can. Tim responds with a genuine 'oof'.

"Anyway, I think cher Thelma would let you."

 Tim raises a brow at you. 

 "No, yes, maybe. C'mon, burned houses makes it so much more fun," you insist with a hitch of your shoulders. Tim has to agree. He prefers playing with extra constraints. It somehow lets you be more creative or— as Cassie helpfully points out— be pettier. Tim isn't petty. He definitely isn't, especially when it's a competitive game.

 Still for as not petty as Tim is, he needs to prepare. "We play by tournament rules. Also, don't let her hear you call her cher, she'll use your face as a new shoe rack," he says, something like mischief glinting in his eyes. 

 You shiver. "I just don't see why you're so serious about this. It's not graded and you can't even go overseas for sungka tournaments."

 "Why would I want to go overseas for tournaments?"

 "Free plane rides?"

 He stops filling a pit. "Athletes pay for their own rides unless they're sponsored."

 You stop counting the shells in your pit and gape at him. You try to twist the thought around and comprehend it. "Seriously?"

 "Mmhmm."

 "Ew."

 “How do you not know this?" He snorts, eyes immediately looking down and covering his mouth. He flickers his eyes up for a brief second gauging your response.

 "First of, only you would know that kind of thing." Tim doesn't correct you. "Second, our landline got cut during the last storm so it'll be about a week before I can be a weirdo like you look up stuff about athletes." You pout at him and hold up your hand, folding a finger from each reason.

 "Fair enough."

 You two finish setting up the board and start the game. Tim takes the pit (house) closest to your home base while you pick one of the middle houses. You start plunking one shell into each house counterclockwise until your drop your last shell into another house and pick those shells up.

 "You know I can beat Bart, right?" Tim asks, scooping up another set of shells. 

 "Sure," you hum, scooping up your own shells.

 He squints at you. "I'm helping, aren't I?" you huff, sliding your leg between the safety bars swinging it.

 Tim wonders if your fidgetting is what's gonna kill the both of you. He starts fidgeting with the shells in his hands. "Helping is a stretch," he says, dropping a shell onto a pile of shells. It bounces a bit then settles. You both let out a loud breath. 

 "Just don’t drop my shells I don’t wanna climb down to get them out of the gutter." 

  "Don’t want to or can’t."

 Said gutter radiates ominously. The gunk inside it looks like it's already housing some kind of alien ecosystem. You both shudder when a bug you can't name skitters about. 

 You raise your head to look at him. "Is that you volunteering to let me dangle you?"

 "Why are we dangling Tim and can I help?" Kon asks, adjusting the strap of his guitar case. 

 You beam up at him. "Definitely."

 "No."

 "Yes," Cassie says, handing each of you soda in a plastic bag. 

 "Your face is gonna stay like that if you keep doing that," you say, taking a 10 out of your wallet and handing it to Cassie. 

 "I don't have change."

 "I thought you said this would be a secret location," Tim says, picking another house. 

 "I said there would be less traffic," you answer, handing Kon your 10 and swiping the two fives in his palm.

 Cassie turns to him. "Pay up, Little Timmy."

 You and Kon snicker. Tim has never ever hated Dickens more.

 Tim looks at you. You sigh. He left his wallet. You hand Cassie your other five. 

 "Thank you. Aren’t you two gonna have a wager?"

 "Bragging rights?" you try. 

 Kon snorts derisively, "The loser has to tell cher Mavic that her kid is an asshole?"

 "I said wager not death sentence," Cassie laughs. 

 Tim seriously contemplates but then changes his mind when you scowl at him, hunching your shoulders menacingly. "Loser buys ice cream."

 You perk up. "Fancy."

 "For everyone," Kon adds.

 Cassie high-fives him. 

 You look at Tim to dispute but he's already analyzing his next move. Your wallet already hurts.

 You pick houses with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Tim's brow ticks up. "Are you even taking this seriously?"

 You look at him without raising your head. "Shush, you'll see."

 Cassie slurps her soda. "Tim, you should probably take the house next to yours so (Y/n) can't get it," she says in between very obnoxious slurps. She is definitely doing it on purpose. 

 "Stop helping him," you hiss as Tim snatches the shells Cassie suggested. 

 Kon side-eyes Cassie, specifically her jersey. "Shouldn't you be helping, Bart?"

 "After he ate my ice cream? He's getting burned."

 "Can we please stop making burn jokes while me and Tim are on the world's worst fire escape?"

 "No," Kon drawls, punctuating it with a strum of his dad's guitar. 

 Tim looks over to Cassie as you take a house. "What flavor?"

 "It was one of those fancy ones from the stalls downstairs. The one with caramel."

 "Cornetto?"

 "Cornetto doesn't cost 50. The other one."

 "Ah. Magnum," you hum, scooping another set of shells.

 Tim squints at your pattern then looks up at you with a sudden jolt. "Wait, you're mimicking Bart, aren't you?"

 "You are playing against him. Do you want me to switch to Jaime or Cissie?"

 Tim's face scrunches in confusion. "How do you even know how he plays?"

 "We were in the same section last year and because he has a brain he asked me to practice with him," you say, "cus you know, I'm an actual Sungka god." Laughter trails your words and Tim's heart skips a beat at the sound. "Now, shush and pick a house."

 He sighs and pretends that Cassie and Kon don't notice the faint flush coloring his skin.

Tim throws his hands up and you mourn your wallet while Kon and Cassie debate on which fancy ice cream they're gonna buy. 

 "What are you guys so happy about?" Bart asks in a tempo so fast you barely hear anything. 

 "(Y/n)'s gonna buy us ice cream."

 "I hate you people... wait, is it time?"

 "Uh no."

 You and Tim sigh in relief. 

 "We just finished. Cher Sally was looking for Tim," Bart explains. "Oh and I won."

 Your jaw drops while Tim writes his last will. Cher Sally is gonna kill him. 

 "How is it done?" You stammer out. 

 "The basketball game got cut short, so they moved it up," Bart shrugs. 

 Of fucking course.