#you’re just taking a cheap shot at someone over the internet because you can

[bisexualclarkkent]

I also think “some of y’all have never been to pride” is a shitty comeback because like a lot of people that haven’t been are literally just closeted

[flameoutfics]

We’re Only Young and Naive Still Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Nora was scratched against Detroit which wasn’t a surprise. She hadn’t had a stellar debut and she hadn’t curried favor with Sutter, but the press had taken her first game and run with it. Everyone had told her to stay off of the internet and to not read articles about herself, but it was hard to ignore the things that popped up on her Twitter feed. There were already some reporters who asked to interview her and there were even a few names that she recognized and wouldn’t mind interviewing with. She had listened to Steve Dangle’s podcast on her morning commute to college occasionally and thought he’d been fair in his assessments. She didn’t think that he’d take cheap shots at her or try to make her uncomfortable. 

She also knew though that the publicity that was being offered to her was something that some athletes worked their entire lives for. Maybe if it was different, if she was naturally talented in the way that Sidney Crosby or Connor McDavid were, the attention would be warranted, but she was just a novelty. So for the moment, Nora politely declined the interviews with the canned rejection that she wanted to focus on contributing to the team and that she would consider at a later time. 

She was on the practice squad for the scrimmage before the game clad in a white jersey with some of the other two-way players skating on the ice against the permanent Flames and halfway through practice, she was already exhausted and soaked in sweat. “Tired, Hallisay?” 

“I’m fine,” Nora said and skated back to the ice with renewed resolve. 

“Take the face off,” Sutter yelled and Nora paired off against Matthew Tkachuk. Off ice he was just aloof but on ice, he was ferocious. He was the type of player that teams hated playing against and everyone wanted on their team. He glared at her from across the face-off circle, his cold, blue eyes almost wild as their coach approached them with the puck. Nora reacted just a split second faster to pass the puck over to Jusso for the break-away. The play was called off and everyone reset with new players at the face-off.

“Lucky,” Matthew said.

“Had nothing to do with luck,” Nora replied. 

“It won’t happen again,” Matthew said, but there was a lightness in his voice. 

“We’ll see,” Nora said, knowing that the odds of her squaring off against Matthew would be few and far in between. She was a fourth-liner at best; he was on the first line. As practice wrapped up, Nora skated to the bench and grabbed some Gatorade. Some of the guys headed straight to the locker room, but Nora lingered rink side. 

“You coming?” one of the trainers asked.

“I’m going to stick around here a little longer,” Nora said, “I want to get in a little more practice.”

“They won’t let you stay too long,” the trainer warned.

“I’ll take what I can get,” Nora said. She skated back on the ice and worked on puck-handling drills. She wished she had the hands of Pavel Datsyuk, but she didn’t. It was never her strong suit on the ice. 

“Move your top hand more, it’ll give you better control” a voice called behind the bench. 

Nora stopped for a moment and glanced over to where the voice was coming from. A small group of players, already showered and changed, watched. 

“Move your hand more,” Matthew repeated, gesturing with his own hand.

Nora shifted her hands to match his, “Like this?”

“Yeah, that’s what they teach you when you’re eight,” Matthew said. 

Nora saw red. Matthew could fuck off. “Well, we don’t all have dads who can get us on the best junior teams.”

A couple of the guys chuckled, but Matthew’s jaw clenched and his face turned red. Nora felt her stomach sink as the barb landed exactly where she anticipated. If things were different, Nora would have been contrite and even as it was, she didn’t like to be the type of person that made other people feel bad, but she wasn’t just going to roll over and take it either. She knew she didn’t have the same hockey knowledge that the other players did. They had had some of the best coaches, had had the time to play for hours after school, and had had opportunities that she couldn’t have dreamed of. So yeah, they didn’t have the same background, but she had worked her way to where she was, and she deserved to be there no matter what anyone else said. 

After they left, she redid the drill following Matthew’s advice. It was better; he was right. Nora gritted her teeth and did it again and again, adjusting her grip when she noticed herself slipping into her old routine. “Fuck,” Nora murmured. 

“You have to go,” the zamboni driver said as he waited for her to get off the ice.  

“Sorry,” Nora said sheepishly and skated towards the locker room. Everyone was already gone by the time she was ready to leave the rink. 

She pulled out her phone and followed the map back to the hotel. A few blocks away from the hotel, a text message popped up on her phone. 

From Liam: Congrats on your debut. 

Nora smiled and pocketed her phone away to respond to him later. She made a mental note to text him back later. 

“A few of us are playing FIFA later, if you want to join?” Mikael said as he caught her coming out of the elevator.

Nora smiled slightly, grateful for the invitation, “Whose room?” 

“Don’t know yet, but it’ll be in the group chat.”

“I’ll be there,” Nora promised. She headed to her room, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled up the text that Liam had sent her. Thanks, you watched?

Liam’s response was almost immediate: I saw the highlights. How are things with the team? 

Nora wanted to tell him everything, she wanted to say how hard it was, how Sutter didn’t want her there, and the team didn’t want her there, and how all she wanted to do was go home. But she didn’t. Instead she typed out, I kind of fucked up with a teammate today. 

Liam wrote back, You’ll make the right decision, you always do.

Nora sighed. 

As promised, the open invitation in the group chat said they were planning on playing FIFA in Rasmus’s room in fifteen minutes and Nora showed up just a few minutes afterwards. 

“Are you any good?” Milan asked.

“I’m horrible at video games,” Nora said. 

“You’re on their team, then,” Milan said as he nodded over to the other half of the room.

Nora glanced over at Matthew who had been leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, still looking as pissed off as he had at the rink. 

“I think I’m gonna leave,” Matthew said, despite protests from their teammates. Nora couldn’t help but feel as though it was a reaction to her joining, a remnant from their fight at the rink. 

She remembered what Liam had sent her, “You’ll make the right decision, you always do,” and she knew what she’d have to do.  

After a few rounds of watching them play FIFA, Nora stood up to leave. 

“You know where Matthew’s room is?” she asked Elias as a new game was getting set up.

“I think he’s 219,” Elias replied. 

“Thanks.”

Nora talked herself into going over to Matthew’s room. She sighed and knocked on the door, hoping that he would already be asleep or in the shower. Instead, though, Matthew opened the door and glared at her. 

“Can we talk?” Nora asked. Matthew didn’t answer, but instead pushed the door open and made way for her to come in. 

“I’m sorry, for what I said at the rink. That wasn’t fair and it wasn’t true. You worked hard to be here and it wasn’t right for me to imply that it was because of who your father is or who your family is, so I’m sorry about it. And...you were right,” Nora said, “About my hands, it’s better your way.”

There was a long pause, “This is where you would usually apologize, too.”

“Why should I? I was just trying to help,” Matthew said. 

“No, you weren’t,” Nora said, “You were trying to humiliate me.”

“What’s your problem?” Matthew said, “Why do you think we’re all out to get you or something?”

Nora paused for a moment, “I know you don’t want me here. I know most of the guys don’t want me here, and that’s fine, but it’s hard not to think that way when you know otherwise.”

“What do you mean we don’t want you here?” Matthew asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “Did someone say something?” 

Nora pulled out her phone and scrolled through the group chat to the incriminating messages, “You did.” She held out the phone for Matthew to read the messages. 

His eyes widened in recognition and he went to apologize, but Nora held out her hand, “Don’t. It is what it is, but I know, so don’t play dumb. And I don’t expect us to be friends or even like each other, I don’t care about that, but I deserved better than that and I don’t deserve the type of comments that you made at practice either.”

Matthew didn’t say anything and to be honest, Nora wasn’t sure if there was anything left to clear the air, “See you tomorrow then.”

She headed back to her room and saw another message from Liam, Do you need to talk?

No, I’m good, but thanks, good night Li.

Nora had woken up before they were scheduled for breakfast and she looked on her phone for a local coffee shop to try before they were set to leave Detroit. She headed to a small, locally owned one just a few blocks from the hotel that they had passed in transit and ordered a vanilla latte. She grabbed a table towards the back and pulled up some of the NHL highlights 

“Can I join you?” A familiar voice asked and Nora glanced up to find Matthew Tkachuk awkwardly standing in front of her with a cup of coffee. 

“Were you following me?” Nora asked. 

“No, yes, but I was hoping we could talk,” Matthew said. 

“I don’t think there’s anything more to say,” Nora said, “I said everything I wanted to last night.”

“I didn’t,” Matthew said, “Can I?” he gestured to the empty chair across from her and Nora shrugged. 

“Is this a conversation that we should have here?” Nora asked.

“There aren’t too many people here and it’s better here than in the hotel, I guess,” Matthew said. 

“Okay,” Nora said. 

“I’m sorry for what I said at the rink yesterday and, more importantly, for what you saw in the group chat,” Matthew said, “You were right, you didn’t deserve that and we should have made more of an effort to make you feel welcome and to treat you like one of the guys.”

“I’m not one of ‘the guys’, though, and I’m not trying to be,” Nora said, “Things are different with me and I can’t help that.”

“I know, I didn’t mean it like that,” Matthew said. 

“I know how you meant it,” Nora said, “And I appreciate your apology.”

Matthew outstretched his hand, “Let’s start over?” 

Nora eyed up his hand, but shook it, “Sure. We better start heading back to the hotel anyways.” 

“What are you drinking by the way?” Matthew asked.

“A vanilla latte,” Nora said, “Why?” 

“In case I need to know for future apologies,” Matthew said. 

“Let’s hope not,” Nora said with a small smile.

[tosimplybe]

My safe hot drinks 🍁

In honour of fall / autumn 🍂 coming in for Americans (and my continual cold despite the weather) here’s some hot drinks!

Hot chocolate 🍫

Misery Hot Chocolate - 15 calories

Tastes like hot chocolate if you squint... I drink it before every school test for the energy and fullness it gives me! Honestly kind of a miracle

Ingredients

Hot water

Almond milk (unsweetened) - 7 cals

Teaspoon of unsweetened cocoa powder - 7 cals

Shit tonne of fake sweetener - 1 cal

Teaspoon instant coffee - 0 cals (optional)

(Half a teaspoon of cornflour / cornstarch - 10 cals COMPLETLY OPTIONAL but makes it so thick like a fancy cafe)

Method

Pour boiling water into a mug. Add cocoa, sweetener and coffee and stir because it’s gonna CLUMP. I mean you can stop here and not add milk but I’m assuming you’re not a psychopath so just splash in a tiny bit. Cry as you drink this abomination

Tea ☕️

Chai masala - 7 calories

If you can bear the weight of how culturally incorrect this is compared to the creamy delight that is actual chai masala, this is incredible! You can sub in honey, or my favourite sticky honey chai I don’t since honey has so many calories it terrifies me :/ sucks because I keep bees

Ingredients

Chai loose leaf black tea mixture - 0 cals

Almond milk (unsweetened) - 7 cals

Sweetener - 0 cals

Method

Fill your cup with a tiny bit of milk then up to the top with water. Pour this into a little saucepan, add the tea and put it on the stovetop. Boil it then simmer for ages like 7-10 minutes until it smells good. Strain into a cup, add your preferred sweetener (or don’t) and drink that creamy incredibleness

Matcha 🍵

Matcha latte - 10 calories

Genuinely my favourite drink. Allegedly good for the metabolism but honestly who trusts that. If you can froth your brand of almond milk do it’s so good

Ingredients

Matcha powder (don’t buy the weirdly cheap health supermarket one it’s a bad idea it’s so grainy and bitter honestly just buy like the second cheapest or it’s unbearably bad ok rant over) - 3 cals

Almond milk (unsweetened) - 7 cals

Sweetener - 0 cals

Method

Boil your water, then add a little tiny bit of cold so it’s not boiling. Idk I heard it on a podcast it stops it burning or something don’t ask me. Whisk in a tiny bit of matcha with a fork while wishing you owned a cool bamboo whisk. Drink it in a tiny bowl if u want to be fancy - bonus of warming up your hands!! Sweeten and pour in your almond milk (or drink without)

Coffee 🎃

Pumpkin spice latte but it’s really goddamn sad - 10 calories

I’m not American so I couldn’t drink a real one if I wanted to but according to the internet the high cal version is pretty similar to Starbucks. I get the feeling someone is lying. Either way it tastes good to me! Get into the Halloween spirit

Ingredients

Watered down shot of espresso - 0

Pumpkin pie spices (cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, cloves etc) - 0 (at least I don’t count it)

1 tsp pumpkin (you can use a purée but I just grab a chunk of cooked pumpkin) - 3 cals

Almond milk (unsweetened) - 7 cals

Method

You can use a blender but who has time to wash that. Take your pumpkin and add whatever spices and sweeteners and some hot water and MASH IT!!!!! Until it’s liquidy enough that it can dissolve. Add your coffee and almond milk and stir until you can just pretend it isn’t lumpy. I would Not recommend drinking the last few sips it will be sludge but the rest? Pretty good

Dirty tea 🧉

London smog (hear me out) - 7 calories

Ok so every time I mention this to someone they look at me like I’m crazy but I swear it’s good. Works really really well with chai too!!!

Ingredients

Earl gray / lady gray tea bag honestly just any flavour you have - 0 cals

Shot of espresso - 0 cals

Almond milk (unsweetened) - 7 cals

Sweetener - 0 cals

Method

Boil a kettle and brew your tea strong. Add it to a cup and sweeten as desired. Add a shot of espresso and some almond milk. Cross my heart it’s good

Tips:

Almond milk calculated as .2 of a glass of unsweetened! Feel free to use any amount of any milk if you don’t have a ridiculous fear of milk like I do :D

Honey will make most of these drinks 100 times better

If you have any sugar free / low calorie drink flavouring things add them and let me know how they go!!

You always deserve the full calorie version. If you are looking for permission to have a 300 calorie hot chocolate, this is it. Go ahead. You always deserve food. Never limit something you enjoy.

Send me pictures and let me know if you like these!!!(particularly the London Smog and pumpkin, my irls think I’ve lost my mind and I’d like some backup)

Enjoy and stay safe <3

[radiorenjun]

I just rewatched crazy rich asians and a sudden scenario popped up in my head lol. Can you do a nct dream reaction to you coming from an insanely rich fam but you did not tell them after years of being together (like they thought you were poor) I really like your fics uwuu💗luv youuu🥺

God now this is making me want to watch Crazy Rich Asians. Anyways.

Mark Lee

You both have been dating since your first year in college. The day you told him you were the daughter of one of the most successful people in the country, his jaw dropped. I mean, considering how you live in a small apartment back when you two were in your early years of dating.

He remembers the day your mother decided to visit the two of you to meet Mark for the first time. Your mother was a very famous and inspiring talk show host and your father was the owner of a very well known hospital. You could barely hold back your laughter when you saw him practically try to scoop his jaw back up when he watched your mother walk out of a Tesla X car.

"You're (Y/M/N)'s daughter? One of the richest people in the industry?!" Mark exclaimed exasperatedly a few minutes after your mother left. Your mother had brought over fancy seafood with some rare caviar and 24k gold pieces sprinkled on top for dinner. 'I wanted to make a good first impression' she said with a casual shrug as you all sat at your dining table.

"Uh... I wouldn't consider myself rich, persay" you laughed. "Oh my god, you're the daughter of one of the most famous talk shows in the industry." Mark dramatically collapsed on the couch, his hand came up to cup his mouth dramatically as if he just found out you were secretly an alien disguised as Michael Jackson.

"Oh come on, it's not that of a big deal, Mark." you whined, sitting beside him and shaking his arm. "Chenle is probably richer than me," you added as you placed a peck on his cheek as he sighed. "I guess you're right."

"Can I ask you something, though?" he muttered, leaning his head against yours as you leaned against his shoulder. You hummed in response, moving your hand to play with his fingers. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked in a small voice, a pout evident on his lips.

You pondered for a moment before shrugging, "I don't know, I wanted to tell you at first when we started dating but then I forgot bout it. I rarely call my parents since they're so busy," you smiled sheepishly at him.

"That explains the Rolex watch you gave me for Christmas," he uttered. "Okay, for the record, those were from my own savings!" you shot back defensively with a laugh, smacking his arm gently. "Oh so now you're bragging bout being rich," he teased.

Huang Renjun

You were both planned on going to a an art gallery date Renjun found on the internet for your two year anniversary. What you didn't know was that the gallery he was talking bout was actually one of your grandfather's art gallery. It was safe to say that the poor boy was practically trying to scoop his jaw back up when he saw the owner of the gallery he saw online giving you a big hug.

You were surprised his jaw was still intact with his face when you told him that the owner was your grandfather. He then remembered the time when you told him your grandfather really like to paint alot, hence your magnificent talent that landed you in a scholarship with one of the biggest art colleges in the country.

“So, your grandfather owns like, what, ten galleries all over the country?” Renjun gaped as you walked side by side down the halls filled with paintings after you introduced him to your grandfather. You shrugged sheepishly, staring up at one of the paintings, swinging your intertwined hands as you walked.”Does this mean you’re like rich? Crazy rich?” Renjun added.

“You’re blowing this out of proportion.” You chuckled, watching Renjun give you a blank stare. “I’m not! I’m just in shock that my girlfriend’s family are aristocrats and could end my life in a heartbeat!” he exclaimed, causing you to let out a soft laugh.

“I’m not necessarily rich like that. But I will inherit all this when my grandfather retires.” You shrugged. “Damn, I never thought I’d be dating a billionaire. This seems like an unexpected climax of a really weird movie” he muttered, running his thumb over your knuckles as you giggled.

“We’re not billionaires, you drama queen. Why does it matter to you anyways if my family’s kinda wealthy?” you raised your brow with a teasing grin, making your boyfriend let out a scoff. “It makes me seem like a peasant standing next to you, your highness,” he rolled his eyes in a sardonic tone. You laughed, smacking him lightly on his arm as you gave him a soft peck on his cheek.

“At least you’ll be my peasant.”

“That sounds like you bought me off of an auction for slavery. I didn’t know you were this kinky, Y/N.”

“Don’t make me dump you on our second anniversary in front of my grandfather, Huang.”

Lee Jeno

He really didn’t see this coming. One year and seven months ago, you seem like the average college student joining sororities to not spend as much money, like he did. You seemed like the average broke college student, spending your days eating cheap ramen from the supermarket, making chocolate truffles with a coffee maker and trying out those Buzzfeed videos where they make three full course meals using house hold items.

Hell, even your friends didn’t know bout this. Well, maybe they did. But nothing would prepare Lee Jeno the absolute shock he was bout to feel when he found out that you and your older sibling owned a really fancy five star hotel that seems only celebrities went to. Hell, you even had your own personal presidential suite and an infinity pool!

“How did you even get money to pay for all this?” Jeno gaped as he entered the room, putting his bag on the chair beside the door that looks as if it costed more than his own life. It probably did, though.”Uh...” you bit your lip as you heard a loud booming voice yell out your name.

“Baby sis!”

Jeno’s eyes were wide and filled with surprise as he saw someone who could’ve been mistaken as the president’s child come up and give you a big hug and a pinch on the cheeks. “Is this the Jeno you’ve been talking bout to mom and dad? Quite the charmer, I’d say,” your sibling grinned, as Jeno stretched his hand out and introduced himself, masking his confusion with a light smile.

Jeno politely asked who this person who had their arm slung over your shoulder and pinching your cheeks red, causing your sibling to laugh. “You really went all out with the broke college act to the point you just don’t mention your own family anymore, huh?” they laughed. Jeno was beyond astonished to find out that your parents were extremely loaded that they bought a really expensive hotel for vacation purposes just for you and your relatives to use.

Turns out you had a whole broke college student act to discover a new lifestyle out of the rich and easy one. Plus, you really liked interacting with people, hence why you joined a sorority. Jeno would eventually get over it after you explained everything, still baffled that his girlfriend had the money to pay child support for his great great grandchildren.

“Am I in heaven?” Jeno jokes as he ran his hand over his wet hair, watching you get into the tub with him, holding a fancy cup filled with wine. “Don’t get used to it, Lee. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Tomorrow it’ll be back to making poached salmon in a coffee maker.” You laughed, taking a sip of your wine as you snuggled closer to his chest.

“Good to know, nothing has changed. Despite having a girlfriend that could cover my future descendants expenses.”

“You’re really not letting this go, are you?”

“You can’t blame a man for overthinking. Oh god, the day I’ll be meeting your parents would probably be equivalent to meeting the King and Queen of England.”

Lee Donghyuck

Precious boy would be shocked but not that shocked. You get me?

He’s gonna act all dramatic at first, putting a hand on his chest how you just told him this big thing bout yourself after a year of dating. He found out through a really unexpected meetup with your parents, jaw gaping once he found out that both of your parents are rich ceo’s of really big insurance companies. 

Apparently, your parents decided to pick you up for a small vacation to Paris. Being the extras that they are, they made an extravagant dramatic entrance in your multimillion limo, offering Hyuck a ride home in the process. Lowkey the whole car ride was him just being so speechless that you, yourself was surprised to see your usually goofy and loud boyfriend so silent and speechless.

Low key he felt kinda insecure now that he’s met your parents. What if they don’t like him because they thought he wasn’t good enough to be a part of their family? Or rich enough to even be your boyfriend. Though the light conversation your mother had sparked up eased him, feeling relieved that at least your mom liked him, despite your dad being to busy with work to even spare him a glance instead of looking up from his laptop.

The next time you meet up was on a cafe date three days afterward. “I can’t believe I just met your richass parents.” was the first thing he said to you that day. You cackled at his horrified expression as he stares at you as if he had committed arson, chewing his muffin softly as he spoke.

“Relax you big baby, they like you already. They thought you were nice and polite, and quiet.” that last part sounds so wrong you instantly gulped down your milkshake. “If only they knew how much sorcery you have to make me still date you despite how you act like a worm on a heatstroke.” you shuddered.

He let out a sarcastic laugh in response, shoving what’s left in his pistachio muffin into your mouth to shut you up. You giggled, humming at the taste as your boyfriend chuckled.There was a brief moment of silence as you chewed the rest of his muffin before Donghyuck spoke up.

“I never thought my life would come to the day where I have a girlfriend who has a possible chance of being my Sugar Mommy.”

“LEE DONGHYUCK!”

Na Jaemin

He wouldn't be that surprised, really. Finding out that you’re the daughter of a famous k-drama director was quite unexpected considering he was the casted as the main character of this k-drama meaning he had to work harder to make your dad like him. He was beyond astonished to find you visiting the studio with your mother to celebrate your parent’s anniversary in a really expensive Korean Barbeque restaurant that seems even Lee Sooman couldn’t afford to get in.

After finding out Jaemin was THE Na Jaemin you were dating, your parents invited him to join you and your family for dinner. He was a nervous wreck in front of your parents. Not only they were successful and could get him kicked out of the role in a heartbeat if he didn’t make a good first impression, they were rich too. If he plans to marry you, he’s gonna have to be praying to God that this dinner goes smoothly.

Lowkey the thought of you being rich didn’t faze him that much but he was worried your parents might not approve of him considering he wasn’t as successful as they were. Of course, with the constant habit of bringing him up during family dinners that you had developed, they were quite happy to see such a sweet caring boy had the possibility of being their son-in-law.

Believe me, it was their words, not mine.

“MOM! You can’t say things like that!” you whined, burying your head in your hands as he giggled, his hold on your other hand tightening under the table. “What? You two are already in a committed relationship for fourteen months already, and you’re still in that honeymoon phase, unlike your father here who acts as if I was the bane of his existence.” your mother jokes.

“That’s because you are.” you father teased. “Jaemin is a nice boy, having him as a son in law would be great addition to the family.” he added as your face flushed red even more when you felt Jaemin squeeze your hand. Jaemin had a wide smile displayed on his face, his own cheeks flushed red at your parent’s words.

“Maybe one day,” he smiled to himself as he stared at your whole embarrassed being sitting in front of your millionaire parents.

Zhong Chenle

I need more Chenle gifs. Anyways

Most definitely will plan to buy the whole SM Entertainment with you to prevent mistreatment for his foreign hyungs and dongsaengs. Honestly it’s just gonna be so funny for him to find out that you were from a wealthy family as well. No wonder you could afford the latest Dior bag the moment it got released, and bought him the limited edition of the latest Kingdom Hearts game.

At some point of his life, he thought you were secretly stealing money from the bank or something. He found out when he visited your hometown for the first time for a Summer Tour. He didn’t think he’d be staying at a private mansion-like villa. Of course, you invited the other Dream members to stay over so their manager wouldn’t have to struggle with finding a super expensive hotel with high level security.

From then on, every special event is like a gift-giving competition to see either who bought the most items or the most expensive one to make the other feel guilty.

“No. You didn’t.” you gasped, glaring at your boyfriend who just grinned mischievously, despite the fact that he had bought so much stuff that he doesn’t even remember which gift that was. “I did,” he grinned proudly as he watched you pull out those aesthetic acrylic photos with a spotify link on the top from tiktok. “Dammit, you beat me to it.” you pouted, pulling a shopping bag from your side of gifts to pull out an acrylic stand of the two of you on your first date with your shared playlist link on spotify on it.

“That’s so sweet, y/n. I love it, even thought you practically lost this one.” he grinned cheekily. “Lost?” you raised your brows, questioningly. "Honestly, this feels more of a competition than an endearing moment to remember," you mused.

"Not my fault you spoiled me, it's only fair if I spoil you back." Chenle laughed. "What kind of girlfriend I would be if I didn't spoil my hard working boyfriend?" you grinned, letting out a small giggle afterwards as you pulled out another shopping bag from your side to give to your loving boyfriend.

"A rich one," Haechan muttered as he entered the room.

Park Jisung

The day he found out you were loaded was the day he finally got to sleepover at your house when he got a clear schedule. In your 8 months of dating, you two never got to hang out in your house as you both were too busy with your own things to even have a decent date without instant ramen and 6 other males involved.

He expected you to live in a normal minimalistic house. You've sent him hilarious pictures of yourself posing dramatically in your living room with the caption, 'paint me like one of your French girls' at the bottom. He knew you had some kind of minimalistic house with the beige couch and potted plants in the background.

But the picture on his phone was nothing compared to the reality of what your house actually looked like. He swore the entrance to your house was almost four times larger than his own size, and that's saying something. Poor boy was practically trying to scoop his jaw back up when he saw the gigantic chandelier hovering over the two of you in the living room.

"How are you not scared of being crushed by glorious diamonds every day?" was what he said when you dragged him to your room with his eyes lingering on the gigantic chandelier and your fingers wrapped around his wrist. You laughed, shrugging as you pulled him through the long hallway filled with gigantic frames of you and your family.

When he entered you bedroom, he practically dropped his dufflebag to the floor. "I brought my pillow for nothing then," Jisung gaped as he saw your king-sized bed that could fit three or possibly four people. "Are you sure you're not some aristocrat? You're basically living off of the We Boom era," Jisung chuckled incredulously as he watch you collapse on your bed.

"Excuse me, Mr. Idol At Thirteen. You're way more richer than I am," you giggled as Jisung walked over and slumped on the bed beside you, humming at the fluffiness of your freshly washed sheets. "That's clearly inaccurate, y/n. I feel offended you never told me that you're basically a billionaire," Jisung pouted jokingly.

You rolled your eyes, "shut up, Park. I live off of instant noodles and homemade omelettes, I'm no different from you." you booped Jisung's nose, causing him to scrunch up his face in an adorable manner. He looked up to see the paintings of baby angels on your ceiling, it was like some kind of museum.

"I bet you secretly have 60 credit cards in your wallet." he mumbled to himself, eyes still staring at you in disbelief as you gave him an incredulous expression. "Jisung. I'm not that rich, really." you deadpanned, "you saved me from going broke by refusing my offer to pay on dates." you joked.

Jisung laughed, "watch what you're saying, y/n. I don't think I'm ever paying for our dates ever again after this sleepover," he pointed a finger at you. You rolled your eyes, pushing his finger away from your face as you continued to bask in each others presence.

"Does this mean you're finally gonna let me pay though? I'm ordering pizza."

"Not happening, L/N."

A/n: IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I PROCRASTINATE ALOT IM SORRY THIS WAS SO BAD I-

[ravnicaforgoblins]

Ravnica for Goblins

One-Shots and Story Hooks

One thing Ravnica campaigns are rarely without is conflict. On a good day, somewhere between nine and ten of the Guilds will be having an issue with one another in some way, shape, or form. This is good for adventuring parties because it means there’s always something to do. While coming up with a session can literally be as simple as picking two Guilds and building off their general reasons for not liking each other (which is as easy as picking a fight on the internet), sometimes you need help. You need something to kickstart those creative ideas again.

Fortunately, the artists over at Wizards of the Coast have had over a dozen sets/releases to craft not just the main storyline of Ravnica, but unique little one-offs as well. They come with absolutely stellar artwork to help build the atmosphere of the City of Guilds, and wonderful bits of flavor text that are prime jumping-off points for your story ideas.

So here are four story hooks taken straight from Ravnica cards to incorporate into your campaign. You don’t have to follow these prompts exactly, but if they spark some ideas of your own, run with them.

Watchwolf

Ravnica can be lonely & intimidating for a Druid. With so much of the world made up of pavement and skyline, one’s connection with nature can feel like a long-distance relationship. You’d be hard-pressed to find a tree outside the Conclave without venturing into Rubblebelt territory. Furthermore, what animals do inhabit the big city have been almost unilaterally conscripted into service by one Guild or another. Azorius hawks, Boros hounds, Gruul boars, Selesnya cattle; to say nothing of the terrifying creations churned out from Guilds like the Simic, Orzhov, or Rakdos.

Even the rats seem to have loyalties.

I was browsing a Tin Street stall for watermelon seeds when I saw it. A wolf, staring right at me from a bridge nearby. I looked around but didn’t see anyone it seemed to belong to. Boros dogs wear armor, Ledev dire wolves are never without their rider, and if it was Gruul it would almost certainly have some sort of clan markings. Could it be a wild one?

Noticing my gaze, the wolf made its way over to me. It avoided the crowd with a comfort you don’t see in wild animals. This wolf definitely belonged to someone in the city.

A few of the merchants were staring at us. Even if it was trained, it was definitely making them nervous. The wolf nipped & tugged at my tunic with its mouth. Not with aggression, but with urgency. Spend enough time with animals, you learn to spot the difference. I bought my seeds, tipped the shopkeep generously, and brought the wolf to a quieter part of the city to speak with it.

Who are you?

Watcher

A watcher? Curious.

What do you need, Watcher?

Help

What help do you need?

Lost

You’re lost?

Watcher shook his muzzle.

Where’s your owner, Watcher?

Taken

Taken? Taken by whom?

Watcher told me.

A what?

Role Reversal

This was definitely one for the books. Even for the Senate, seeing a Sphinx up close is extremely rare. Seeing one at your desk filing a complaint about another Sphinx is unheard of.

“They are Uthlon the Wise. A model among their peers for stoicism, moderation, and sound judgement.”

“And you’re filing a complaint against Uthlon for....”

I checked my notebook.

“....Getting drunk and painting rude words on the temple of Azor.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll look into it.”

I expected a response. There’s always a response when people get angry enough to file a complaint. However, instead of shouting or threats, the Sphinx Agammemnos stepped back from my desk and perched down a few feet away. They were really going to wait there until I looked into this. My lunch was sitting an arm’s reach away. I sighed deeply. I hated this job sometimes.

Then, another Sphinx came in and approached my desk.

“I am here to file a complaint regarding Uthlon the Wise.”

I took my notebook back out.

“For the crime of shouting out ‘River’.”

I had to ask for that one again. Apparently, they were asking someone a riddle, as Sphinxes do, when Uthlon the Wise popped up and shouted the riddle’s answer. For that, I might seek out this Uthlon the Wise for the sole purpose of giving them a medal. No sooner had this thought crossed my mind when another Sphinx, this one rubbing their head and moving as though drunk, wandered in.

“I....am here to....file a complaint.”

“Regarding Uthlon the Wise?”

The Sphinx looked pleased. They do love when someone can guess what they’re thinking.

“Uthlon the Wise hit me over the head with a club.”

I’d just finished writing that down when more Sphinxes came strolling in. I’d never seen this many in one place, not even in Isperia’s court. Then I saw the strangest thing of all. A goblin came in, calmly walked up to my desk, and told me in the best Common I’ve ever heard from a goblin:

"My name is Uthlon the Wise.”

For the love of the Guildpact, what is going on here?

Mass Manipulation

There they are. I thought I made my instructions clear to dress the part. One way you can always spot a Dimir is by their shabby taste. They’re so concerned with being able to keep things hidden in their clothes that they can never wear anything that fits them properly. Orzhov assassins, by contrast, always dress to kill. We turn the art of killing into an actual art. And here this tit comes showing up at the finest diner in the Precinct wearing that awful trenchcoat. Ghosts, I should have hired that Ochran. At least they know not to be seen.

The only reason I’m resorting to this alley skulker is because I need the job done quickly and on the cheap. If this imbecile ruins my appetite, I’m docking the price of the meal from their pay. Then again, if I do that, I wouldn’t be paying them at all.

Seems fair to me.

“Dreadfully sorry I’m late.”

“If this is how you run your business, I may just take mine elsewhere.”

“Now, now, let’s not get hasty.”

The server came over to take our orders, but because of this idiot’s tardiness, my main course would have to wait while they ordered drinks.

“Would you like to see our wine list?”

“Water is fine, thank you.”

Ghosts, I should have hired the Rakdos. This whole day is already a loss and it’s only breakfast. Why did I ever think these fools could be trusted with something important?

The server poured water from the pitcher while I waited.

“So, what’s the job?”

“What’s the job? The job is everything! How you present yourself! How you treat your clients! How you behave in high society! How am I supposed to trust you with a contract when you can’t even show up on time for a breakfast?”

They just sat there, drinking their water. Not even the decency to look ashamed. I’m going to put a word in to the Judge for another purge, this is unacceptable. We shouldn’t have to put up with these dredges.

Finishing their water, they clinked their glass on the table.

The whole diner was suddenly quiet. Not the awkward, shocked quiet of society types pausing to listen. I’ve lived in this city for almost 70 years and I’ve never heard anything like this kind of silence. Every single person froze in their place, some halfway in the motion of eating or talking. Then, every single head turned in our direction at once.

“I was afraid it might come to this. I know you have things to do, so I’ll be brief. When I ask you for the job, I don’t need your background or history and especially not your personal take. I know how uptight you Syndicate types are about contracts & paperwork & details and all that nonsense. I just need the deed and the name of the person it’s being done to. That’s all.”

Every face stares at me with blank captivation. Not a single eye blinks. Not a single mouth draws breath. Including mine.

“But first, let’s talk about the pay. For starters, since the target is probably wealthy enough to afford protection, the rate will double. Second, since you clearly have trouble keeping your mouth shut, you’ll need to be kept under supervision until the job is done, so the rate will double again. Lastly, since the reason I was late was because I was debating whether or not to poison your drink, let’s double it again and call it a deal.”

I swallow hard. I should have never gotten involved with House Dimir.

“Seems fair to me.”

“Excellent. Now, what’s the job?”

Debtors’ Transport

This one will not be easy. This isn’t your standard smash & grab in the Bulwark where the Wojek are too busy busting Gruul skulls to chase after a gang of thieves. Everyone in the city has thought of it at least once; rob the Orzhov. The problem is, everyone knows what happens to anyone who tries; best case execution, worst case servitude. The air surrounding the Orzhov Guildhall is saturated with the ghosts of poor souls still paying off their debts to the Syndicate centuries after death. It’s not a fate you wish unto anyone, least of all yourself.

But still....the temptation is right there. An Orzhov transport, one of those big bloated ones that look like someone took a person, removed their bones, and then blew them up like a balloon. Walking right through the plaza. Every week, same time, same route, same cargo. An enormous sarcophagus filled with more coin than your average Ravnican citizen will see in a lifetime, and the moans of the latest poor soul who fell too far behind on their payments.

From the street separating the haves & have-nots of Precinct Two, around the Hall of the Guildpact in Precinct One, then a straight shot along Plaza Avenue to the Orzhova Church. Roughly one hour to walk five miles of city and deliver the cargo into the greedy hands of the Ghost Council.

They aren’t subtle about their business, but they aren’t subtle about security, either. At least four Advokists and Knights for a light haul, double that for a bigger one, and if they’re really hauling a score you can expect a trio of their fully-plated Giants as well. Not to mention the gargoyles they have perched on roofs for every single street along the route. And the transports themselves aren’t exactly known for being well-tempered when something agitates them.

But you rip off a score like that and your entire crew can afford to buy a mansion on a floating mountain.

Assuming you get away, of course. That’s always the rub. There are few things the Syndicate take more personally than being robbed. You rob a score like that, they don’t just send the Order of Sorrows after you, they send the Angels. The executors of Orzhov justice who don’t sleep, don’t stop for lunch, don’t stop for anything until they find you. At least when the Firemane kill someone it’s an exciting way to go. Better death by immolation than spending every night listening for the sound of feathered wings dropping a scythe down on you.

But if you did it right, made sure no one saw you, made sure no one could trace it back to you, it could be done. It can be done.

But who would be willing to take the risk?

[krsnlove]

Halloween Phases

A/N: An idea came to me one night about the different phases we go through in life and how holidays/important events and their associated activities can change. Also, I know we’re in November ...Don’t. Just don’t Lol. 

Pairing: Bryce x Casey

Rating: PG

SINGLE MAN

“Did you see Lahela’s costume?”

Casey scrolled through her patient’s chart, reading the results of the lab work drawn earlier, unbothered by Sienna’s question.

“Surprised he’s dressed as someone else other than his meathead self,” Jackie arched a single brow at the news.

“What’s he dressed as?,” Elijah asked as he straightened the plush E.T. doll of his Halloween costume.

“Oh, you’ll see. By the way,” Sienna adjusted the strings to her Red Riding Hood outfit, “the contest for Best Costume ends in an hour. I hope you all voted. The winner gets a $50 Visa gift card.”

“$50. Wow. The hospital sure is pulling out all the stops.”

“I’d be negative too if I lost,” Elijah gave Jackie a pitiful stare in her usual work attire. “Where’s your Halloween spirit?!”

“Right here,” she flashed her middle finger in his direction with a wide smile before walking away. “Byeeee!”

“She’ll be sorry when she sees what I’m going to buy with my winnings,” Elijah proudly smiled before wheeling himself away. “I’ll see you guys at home!”

Sienna watched him turn the corner down the hallway before turning her attention back to Casey.

“So, have you seen Bryce’s costume?”

Sienna made sure her question didn’t go unanswered as she tapped her pen on the computer screen, forcing Casey to look up from the screen.

“I haven’t,” she blinked a few times, surprised to see her still there.

“It’s pretty good,” Sienna’s cheeks color slightly. “I mean, it’s not too bad to look at. You should check it out.”

Casey studied her usual calm friend, nervously surveying the nurses station they were at.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine it’s just...it’s hot in here, isn’t it?” She closes her eyes for a brief moment as she begins to dab her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Weren’t you just complaining about it being cold earlier?”

“No. No. It’s hot now!,” Sienna begins to fan herself with one hand. “I wonder what...what do you think the temperature is in here?”

“Sien, it’s only--,” Casey’s sentence is cut off as a familiar voice comes from behind her.

“It’s one Lahela degrees!”

Casey turns to face the familiar voice. Bryce stood there, fully dressed in his Halloween costume: a firefighter. Or, Casey’s eyes slowly take in him being shirtless with suspenders holding up the yellow latex shorts, almost sort of fully dressed as a firefighter.

She can’t help the smile that comes to her as Bryce stands there beaming with pride.

“How long were you two working on that?,” she looked to Sienna who playfully shrugged her shoulders before walking away leaving you alone with Bryce.

“I owe you, Double Oh Tiny!”

Casey stands from her seat and sits on the edge of the desk, watching Bryce begin to greet each passerby.

“Quit shopping at the toy store for your clothes Lahela,” Zaid groaned before turning around and walking the opposite direction.

Ines is barely able to form a sentence when she looked up from her notes and saw Bryce in his costume. It was a wonder she didn’t walk into a wall when he escorted her to the safety of the elevators.

“Is it too much to ask to go a week without seeing you shirtless?,” Ethan shook his head as he walked past him with Rafael following close behind.

“Seriously Lahela. Do you even own shirts?”

“Okay Jealous #1 and Jealous #2. I’ll see you guys at tomorrow’s game,” Bryce called out after them before turning to face Casey once again.

“So…,” her head tilt slightly to the side, “big fan of Halloween I take it?”

“Not really,” he shrugged. “Why would I want to pretend to be someone else when my life is already great? Besides,” he took off his helmet and wiped at the smudge on the shield, “$50 is $50. I love a good contest.”

“Bryce Lahela, did you just share something personal with me? Be careful. We might become friends if you keep it up.”

A smug smile came to him as he put his helmet back on and looked at her determinedly.

“I’m counting on it, Valentine.”

MARRIED MAN

“Babe, please?!”

“Absolutely not Lahela!”

Bryce kept the laugh threatening to surface at watching his pregnant wife waddle away from him, signaling the end of their discussion. It had been weeks of scouring the internet for an idea and even longer for Amazon to deliver the costumes.

And after an extremely convincing argument, or so he thought, to his wife, Bryce was all too set to don the blue body paint and glossy pants like the Genie from Disney’s Aladdin.

“You’re not putting that thing on me!”

Casey’s adamant voice echoes from their bedroom down the hall.

“Have you talked to Sienna lately?,” he casually asked while picking up the genie lamp costume.

“No. Why?”

“They’re having another Best Dressed Costume Contest.”

The sound of Casey’s mocking laugh overpowered the sound of an episode of the Golden Girls; Her latest series binge.

“$50 will only cover my cravings for one night Lahela. You know that better than anyone.”

Bryce laughed out loud at that, thinking back on the last few nights of his 3AM food runs whenever a new inspiration struck for a strange food combination.

“It’s not $50.”

“$51?,” she scoffed.

“Not exactly,” he sat down at the kitchen table still holding onto her costume. “Winner this year doesn’t get any money.”

“Wasting my time Lahela.”

“You’re right. I mean who would be interested in a month's supply of chocolate?”

The familiar voices of Blanche Devereaux and Dorothy Zbornak lowered, just slightly, from the TV in the bedroom.

“Chocolate?”

Casey’s curious yet cautious tone brought a smirk to Bryce’s lips.

“Yeah,” he said regretfully, “And pickles. Can you believe that? What is anyone going to do with a bunch of chocolate and jars of pickles?!”

Bryce can hear her footsteps growing closer as he holds up the undesirable costume.

“Not a word Lahela,” Casey tells him just before snatching it from his hands.

FAMILY MAN

Jackie straightened the gold cuffs covering both her wrists. Never mind the sleeves of her doctor’s lab coat hid them once she put her arms back down. Or the fact that the majority of her Cleopatra costume is hidden if she didn’t purposely pull her doctor’s coat back.

“This is the year guys,” she announced to anyone within earshot.

Elijah, fully dressed as a Roman soldier with his wheelchair made up to look like a chariot, glanced up at her for a moment then back down at his phone.

“You said that last year.”

“Wasn’t Casey’s baby bump last year dressed as the genie’s lamp adorable?!,” Sienna chimed in.

“That was a cheap shot,” Jackie pointed out. “Anyone who uses their child, unborn or not, to win a contest isn’t afraid to hit below the belt.”

“And,” Rafael unenthusiastically added, “Big surprise. Lahela upped it last year by not only being shirtless but had blue body paint on too.”  

Sienna chuckled at the memory of Bryce smearing blue paint on her lab coat last year after announcing him and Casey as the winners. 

In an attempt to boost morale at the hospital, the costume contest was born. Watching her colleagues slowly participate each year was thrilling especially knowing they weren’t in it for the prize. Bryce’s winning streak was enough to bring the competitive spirit out of everyone.

“I’m going to knock him right into a v-neck shirt. He seems the type to wear one if....you know, he actually were to wear one,” a smug smile spread across Jackie’s lips.

“Hopefully with a sweater on too,” Ethan casually mentioned while walking by, perusing a file he had in his hand. Even the infamous diagnostician participated in this year’s contest with a Halloween-themed tie.

“Sienna, will you please announce the winner already?,” Aurora bit out. “If Elijah’s chariot run over my toes one more time…”.

He grimaces at the reminder and avoids her glare.  

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Bryce and Casey?”

Ines’s voice cut through the icy tension between Aurora and Elijah. A delightful expression crosses her motherly features as she took in the variety of costumes surrounding her. The boost of morale at the hospital around this time of year never fails to bring a smile to her face.

“They both know how to tell time. It’s not our fault they’re late,” Jackie stood with folded arms.

Just then the familiar sound of the elevator doors being opened caused everyone to face the same direction and out step Bryce and Casey in their Halloween costumes with their newest family member in Bryce’s arms.

“I know the both of you must be cold,” Aurora shook her head, eyeing Casey’s one-piece bathing suit and Bryce’s red lifeguard shorts.

“The winners,” Bryce’s voice is almost above a whisper as he motioned to his daughter fast asleep in his arms, “are here!”

Jackie points to their daughter, fully covered in a shark costume.

“Below. The. Belt!”

Casey gently folded back the material of the costume obstructing her daughter’s face. 

“Our little baby shark has had a long day. Scouring the ocean waters for her next victim and all,” she shot a playful wink at Jackie.  

Elijah begins to clap in total awe of the commitment the couple had in the contest.

“I vote for you guys. Mostly because of the cute baby shark in your arms but since you came with her…”.

“Weren’t you saying something about knocking a certain someone into a v-neck shirt?,” Rafael nudged a begrudging Jackie.

“Bite me.”

“Look out for your lab coat Sienna,” Jackie’s glare at Bryce and Casey softened once her eyes settled on her goddaughter.

“Looks like Lahela is going to get spray tan on it when he comes to hug you.”

Tagging: @alj4890 @vickypoochoices @anotherbeingsworld need more Bryce shippers LoL

[dreamnants]

(I wanted to say thanks for the folks who’ve been taking an interest in my dumb swap AU and helping me develop it more especially with Zuke!

For some reason, I forgot to mention my AU’s name is Chiaroscuro Reflections.

As a small thank you, I decided to sit down and try actually writing something set in the AU. This is my take on what happens after the auditions and leading into the DJSS. There are things I want to improve on, but if I don’t post it, I probably never will.

Hope you enjoy~)

"It was rigged, I tell you!"

"May, I was hoping we could discuss the audition after our meal?"

"But you agree with me, Nadia! It was complete bulldozer! BULLDOZER!" Mayday protested, ignoring the looks their table was getting from the few other customers from how loud Mayday was.

Nadia only sighed as she carefully cut another bite-sized piece of her half finished burger.

"Indeed I do, but..." Nadia waved her knife in Mayday's general direction."I wanted to enjoy a meal not being reminded what transpired an hour ago?"

"Yeah, yeah, but it just...NRGH!" With that, Mayday took a sip of her strawberry milkshake in a vain attempt to quell her frustration. At least it was soothing to her throat from her yelling.

As if knowing Mayday wasn't going to shut up about their disastrous audition result, Nadia shook her head and carefully put down her plastic cutlery to non-verbally show she was paying attention.

"Well, if I must say something to make you feel better, I heavily disagree with Tatiana's opinion about you having no future in show business. You are one of the most passionate artists I've ever met. Sure...I did call you pedestrian at one point, but...I have long changed my opinion on that."

Mayday managed to crack a small smile at that. "Awww, thanks, buddy."

Nadia rolled her eyes playfully as Mayday finished off her milkshake with a loud slurp.

"Come to think of it, have we taken a look at the footage of our audition?" The older woman pursed her lips slightly, a bit of her contained irritation slipping out before it returned to a neutral one. "Even if it is associated with a bitter memory, it still is our first appearance on television."

Mayday perked up in realization."Oh shoot! You're right. I think they might have uploaded it on the internet by now..." Mayday put down the empty cup to pull out her phone. After a few moment of scrolling around, Mayday smiled as she found the footage."And...here it is!"

Mayday lifted her arm with the phone up while Nadia carefully moved the tray to the side so she could lean her upper body to look at the small screen.

"Okay, so it was still unfair we got rejected, but man, at least they got some really good shots of us!"

"Indeed."

The good mood between them quickly faded when the shot changed angles to feature them from the front, giving them a good view of behind them. There, the Qwasa meter filled as they performed until the meter stopped at just below full capacity.

Both band mates stared, pausing the video at the blinking red light.

"Wait, what?!"

"That..."

"Nadia! We filled the Qwasa to almost full capacity!"

"Come to think of it, it was strange they did not tell us how well we powered the Qwasa before they gave us their judgement..."

"This was totally rigged! How could they scrap us when we outperformed all the other contestants!?"

"I cannot believe they got away with such...ignorance," The understatement of the words laced in Nadia's usually elegant tone was forced, as if she was trying hard to not let her anger slip."But what point would they have to reject us?"

As if the universe was conspiring against the two, a familiar voice caught their attention.

"People of Vinyl City, this is Tatiana.”

Through the speakers littering the city, the words echoed throughout that both could hear them from inside.”

"In light of the recent abysmal performance of a certain duo that we all had the unfortunate pleasure of having to sit through, I would like to announce that rock music is hereby banned from future Lights Up auditions."

The words cut through Mayday like a knife. She wasn’t sure what Nadia was thinking

"For a better prospect at winning, we suggest that you stick to what works: EDM."

"Remember, we strive through...ORDER. Order leads to progress in Vinyl City."

"That is all, have a pleasant evening."

The ordinary closing words contrasted the magnitude of Tatiana's decree, seeming as Tatiana was closing a traffic report, not banning an entire music genre.

Tatiana had just banned rock from Vinyl City.

As it dawned on Mayday on what exactly this meant in the light of their unanimous rejection, and the anger began to swell once the numb shock wore off, her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of something crumpling, followed by a splashing sound soon accompanied by a cold jolt on her neck. She turned to the source of the noise to discover it came from her band mate crushing the water cup in her hand. The twisted vessel of hollow paper and Nadia's right hand was dripping wet from the contents erupting from her death grip, but Nadia didn't seem to notice or even care she'd splashed water over their table and herself.

Her green eyes were glowing with burning fury that made them glow even in the cheap lighting of the burger joint, her lips twisted into a sneer that bared her teeth. Even though Mayday was not the target of her ire, she wouldn't deny being unnerved by the sight. This wasn't her first time being exposed to Nadia's unbridled anger, but it always caught her off guard when it happened.

As if the floodgates had opened and her true frustration finally exposed through the cracks, the best way to describe such a sight was Nadia simply erupted.

"THOSE....THOSE...PEDESTRIANS!" Yelling in a volume contrasting her usual calm and elegant one, she slammed the fist still gripping the unfortunate victim of her angry clenching on the table, causing the guitarist to jolt up in surprise and the tray to bounce slightly. "They had the gall to reject us under clear bias," Another pound on the table, catching the attention of the establishment. "...and NOW they decide to ban an entire genre of music on a whim based on their belief we played horribly?!" Nadia finally let go of the crushed cup, now twisted horribly into a shape that reminded Mayday of a banana. "They either are blind, deaf, or perhaps both to claim WE offended people with our music! If anything, THEY were the only ones offended by us wanting to play a supposedly outdated genre!"

Finally remembering she was also supposed to be angry, Mayday exploded herself. "I know?! Can you believe it?! We need to do something!"

"What do you propose we do about this then? Because I certainly have some suggestions if you do not!"  Her mouth was still in a scowl, her eyes still burning, face contorted with anger barely contained.

"I don't know right now, but I know there's always something you can-"

And for the second time tonight, Mayday's train of thought was promptly interrupted, this time by the lights suddenly flickering before completely shrouding the entire joint in darkness. From a quick look outside from their window, it was the same for the rest of Vinyl City.

"Mayday, do you sometimes wonder if the universe conspires against someone?"

"Maybe."

A minute later, the corner of Mayday's eye caught a sign outside flickering back to life. The NSR logo displaying among the relative darkness still covering the city. In fact, on closer look, the lights on in the darkness were all the NSR store signs.

"This..this can't right..." Mayday heard Nadia's voice, disbelief with a tint of indignation lingering in her words. "Are you saying...that NSR only supplies the backup power to their artists?"

Mayday only stared, a voice in her head screaming in anger. For the audition. The banning of rock. And now the blackout?

"May?"

Jolting to her feet, Mayday grabbed her guitar and slung it over her shoulder as she rushed outside. She vaguely registered Nadia calling out to her, but she wasn't listening, scrambling through the darkened Vinyl City.

The only other noise she eventually registered was the sound of Nadia's footsteps chasing after her.

[tysonrunningfox]

Crown Loyal: Part 5

It’s Princecup but it has a kitschy name now I will not be stopped (but I had to write the chapter in comic sans so if it’s bad it’s because I made a deal with the devil)

Ao3 

“Are you coming?”  Hiccup asks, and as much as she wants to impose Prince Haddock over him, especially in the ostentatious car after a day of him flashing a credit card in some shade of obsidian she hadn’t known existed until she saw Fishlegs pull one out one day to rent a tank for an exhibition, he’s still just Hiccup right now.

Dangerously Hiccup.  His hair ruffled from trying on a dozen stupid suits, sleeves rolled up his forearms, hand working anxiously on the stick shift.  The most princely thing about him is his expression, a placid, friendly one she recognizes from balls and galas where he’s playing a part, and that makes her more nervous than any security threat she’s ever heard. 

“Or, you know, you could just wait in the car and if there happens to be a kidnapper hiding inside and waiting to sell some royal body parts on the black market.” 

“We haven’t had any threats about that.” She rolls her eyes, and it’s worse because he’s right, and she’s never seen the hunting lodge before and that long buried royal curiosity is bubbling in her chest. 

He pauses, drumming his hands on the steering wheel, and she wishes she hadn’t put down her gun, because it’s comforting weight against her back helps her remember that she’s working. 

“Spit it out, what are we doing here?” 

“Can I take your gun to protect myself?”  He winces even as he asks, leaning over like he’s going to grab the weapon from where it rests by her feet, and she stops him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“No.” 

For the first time in their less than professional working relationship, that seems to be the answer he wants, and he leans a little closer, just close enough to remind her how tiny the cab of his sports car is. 

“Probably best, my dad would kill me if I shot one of his tapestries in self-defense.”  He laughs at his own unfunny joke and she shoves him back to his own side of the car, wincing when the buckle of her watch scrapes against the leather seat.  “Hey, sports cars and heirs can be replaced, but not medieval dragon hunting tapestries.” 

“Where’s your sweater?” She unbuckles her seatbelt, “I’ll just grab it for you.” 

“And leave me unprotected?”  He grins, predicting her answer and getting out of the car before he even hears her muttered ‘no’.  He gets the door open before she can make sense of the glossy handles, and offers her his hand, too hopeful for her to shove it away.  Plus, the car is really low to the ground and he did take her on a long enough ride for her to get stiff, and she hates her own excuses and the fact that she hasn’t quit, or something. 

But if she quit, who would protect him? 

No one she trusts as much as herself. 

The realization is a bitter inevitability as she reaches back for her radio, doing her best to ignore the all too recognizably impatient sound in his throat as he tries to stop her. 

“Fishlegs might need me.”  She tugs her hand from his, fingers immediately clammy, and gestures towards the front door with an hand uncertain under the lack of weight from its lack of weapons. 

“Not very good service up here.”  His bouncy shrug is as hollow as the rest of his expression and she hates how she wants to fill the space he’s missing.  She hates how sometimes he feels like a worthy crown and she’d be ok with being absorbed.  It makes her push back harder against everything he shouldn’t be. 

Much like the stories that allegedly take place within them, fairytale castles aren’t and never have been real. 

The confusion between castles and palaces has always infuriated Astrid, mostly because of her military history education.  Of course, some building with a giant, manicured lawn instead of a moat and rows upon rows of glistening first floor windows isn’t a defensive structure. Castles were damp stone on rocky hills, and while she did enjoy visiting some of Berk’s most famous ruins, it was from a historical, tactical standpoint.  Back when she was a private hoping to prove herself, she thought about what it would have been like to be at one of those battles up on those crags, to help.  What she could have done to sway the outcome. 

Private Hofferson would be wildly disappointed at how she’s faring in her current battle.  The battle she shouldn’t be fighting. 

When she first got her job at the palace, the concept of a fairy tale dropped even further from her realm of possibility.  The palace is, on the surface, glamorous and historic and royal, but its security system undercuts every part of that, weaving between the layers of tradition to supply a modern safety net.  Bullet proof glass carefully installed in windows framed by two-hundred-fifty year old plaster, steel shutters hidden under the ornate valences outside.  Modern electricity routed through ancient walls to cameras and outlets and wireless internet.  Wired connections to military involvement. 

A glossy bunker meant to keep relics safe, like a museum. 

A museum where Astrid is a display case. 

“The summer house,” Hiccup is awkward as he opens the front door with a sleek key on his sleek sports car keychain, completely at odds with the heavy, ancient door that creaks open with a poof of dust.  “Or hunting lodge, if your general frame has the heat capacity of a nuclear power plant.” 

He laughs, and it’s nasal until he steps inside, where the echo in the ancient foyer turns the sound regal. 

The room is rich, dusty wood, a fireplace at the opposite end closed off by a small but ornate cast gate.  The tapestry on the wall is covered by protective plastic, glazed with a season’s dust, but it’s still beautiful, hand-woven and ornate, a demonstration of devotion to power. 

But more than that, it’s real.  Protected, for when it will be useful, but real.  Real construction, real rugs that smell mothy, real paneling that smells like carved cedar.  Walls that dampen sound outside and make her believe that this is another world, a safer world, a world where she doesn’t have to think about what’s outside of the walls. 

Her radio gives a burst of static that threatens to ruin the moment. 

“None of the rooms have full power, of course, no internet in the whole place.  I used to hate coming here as a kid until…wait, I still kind of hate it because it’s me being shut in with nothing but my dad and Gobber—”

“Stop,” she says. 

Her voice echoes, a little too loud, the old walls absorbing it and shouting it back. 

If she were someone else, her fairy tale would look like this. 

She would stumble upon a royal residence and be accepted.  Or no, acclimated. 

This is a life that seems livable.  Old wooden walls, tapestries painting her countries history.  A life that feels more real than the glitz at the palace. 

She pauses in front of a painting of King Hiccup the Second with a handsome gray horse.  The resemblance is undeniable but more reminiscent of Hiccup’s prince-face than his actual expressions and she looks at him before she can help it. 

He’s staring at her, hesitant like princes aren’t, biting his lip, hand in his pocket. 

“What?”  She wishes she sounded harsher, but it’s hard when he’s so close and, as much as her patriotic pride doesn’t like to admit, vulnerable.  He feels like an emblem of this place, of Berk. 

And so much more. 

“I’m just here to get my sweater.”  He points down the hall, leading, and she says the word she never thought he’d want her to. 

“No.” 

“You get to tell me when I’m being stupid, not when I’m cold,” he laughs, grabbing her hand and trying to lead her down a hallway that might be cozy if it weren’t so dark. 

“Hiccup,” she says quietly as she jerks her hand free and he fumbles for her fingers again in the dangerous dark, “Prince Haddock.” 

He stops short, shoulders rigid enough that they tense the crisp fabric of his expensive shirt.  It fits him well, she notes, too well.  Or just well enough, given how far out of her depth she is, amidst all the old royalty haunting these halls.  

“Don’t.” 

“How—”

“Not now, not when I’m…” He exhales before facing her, face determined in the waning light through the ceiling length windows facing into the courtyard. 

Trusting windows. 

If anyone is in your courtyard, the battle is already over. 

“When you’re what?”  She knows the answer.  She knows the answer is easy for him and hard for her and more obvious for all of it.  She knows how much she likes his long warm fingers on her upper arms and she knows how alone they are and for the moment, in this ancient, storied castle, how dangerous it isn’t. 

This could be theirs for right now. 

“Not when I’m confessing.” 

“Isn’t the Chapel on the West side?” 

He kisses her.  Clumsy and urgent and determined to sweep her off of her feet and maybe she wants him to.  Here.  Where anyone would be willing to succumb to a prince. Where royalty feels real, between safe, heavy walls. 

“I’ve gotten everything I’ve ever asked for,” he whispers as he kisses down her neck, fingers curling around her arms as he pushes her back into a plastic covered tapestry that she wouldn’t shoot if her life depended on it. 

His though. 

“Charming.”  She goes to push him away but her fingers curl in his shirt, entirely out of sync with her determination to keep her job. 

“It’s not,” he pulls up, kissing her nose on the way and igniting a hot curl of something fond and real in her chest, “it’s obnoxious.” 

“Both.”  She consigns herself to it, for a second, her radio heavy on her hip as she pulls him closer to her, heel around his calf.  And he feels right, like he did the other times.  And she reaches for this to feel wrong, like it did before. 

The castle wall is cold and Hiccup’s hand are warm where they carefully untuck her shirt like its cheap fabric is anything like the priceless tapestry behind them. 

“No,” he whispers, peppering too sweet kisses across her cheek even as his hands clamp on her ribs, almost hard enough, “no.” 

“Ok,” she goes to shove him off, glad that for once he was the one to find his senses, but he rests his forehead on her shoulder, breathing hard, his hair tickling the side of her neck. 

“I wanted to talk to you.”  He laughs to himself over some joke that wasn’t worth telling, “but we—this is why—”

“You’re right.”  She disagrees with everything about his tone, pushing him away from her with trembling hands, attempting to dismiss everything comforting about the heavy stone walls around her.  “We shouldn’t.” 

They’re defensive, sure, but modernity is useful too.  No cameras.  No warnings.  Nothing to hide from.  Nowhere to hide. 

“I’m never right if it keeps you away from me,” he says it, all at once, like buying a sports car.  Like it means nothing and everything.  Like he doesn’t understand how impossible that is to respond to, especially when there’s no one listening. 

Astrid has thought about dying for Prince Haddock.  About taking a bullet.  About jumping in front of an attacker’s knife. 

But she’s never contemplated protecting his heart. 

As always, protecting herself wasn’t part of the equation, and she thinks of his portrait at the academy.  She thinks of him in the barn, hay in his hair.  Of him puffing out to fit shoes that don’t feel quite right and how it’s the only time that admitting doubt and fear has ever seemed brave. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking me for.”  She sticks to the truth, because it’s the only thing that could ever compete with heavy walls. 

“I do,” he nods, eyes bright in the darkness, hands softening against her, voice filling the room like it belongs in every corner, like he feels the walls as part of him. 

“Hiccup—”

“Everything,” his smile is wincing, like he just dealt a blow that he wishes he didn’t have to, “I know I’m asking for everything.” 

“You really are obnoxious,” she laughs under her breath, crumbling like a palace under siege as she hits his shoulder with the back of her hand, not bothering to push him away. 

It wouldn’t work.  She doesn’t want it to and she’s never been good at lying to herself. 

“Don’t forget horribly spoiled.”  His knee notches between hers as he bumps his nose against hers.  “Bratty is one I’ve heard a few times.  Uncompromising.”

“I did say I’d help with that,” she lets her arms wrap around his neck and her chest feels lighter even as her stomach churns under the lack of cameras to keep her in line. 

Influence should be added to the Haddock crest alongside honor and glory, because she never needed reminders of the rules before he came into her life. 

“Too late.”  He grins like he knows he’s won something, “I’m a lost cause.” 

“You know I don’t believe that, or I wouldn’t try so hard to keep you alive.” 

His jaw drops, faking offended, and she laughs even though there’s no going back now.  The door clicking shut doesn’t sound enough like a dungeon to make her pause, even though she’s seen the gilded cage snap shut across Hiccup’s expression more than enough times to respect it. 

“Here I thought you did that because you liked me.”  He seems to weigh the statement for a second, “and it’s your job.”  ‘Job’ is a dirty word surrounded by so much history and duty. 

“I could ask for a transfer.”  She lets her fingers tangle in the too long hair at the back of his neck.  “Snotlout can’t seem to keep a guard around for more than a few weeks, I’m sure Fishlegs would be glad for a break finding replacements.” 

“No,” he frowns, “I like that you’re obligated to spend so much time with me.” 

“There has to be a compromise here.” 

“I don’t trust anyone else.” 

“Someone else kept you alive for twenty four years.” 

“And look at me, a spoiled, uncompromising, obnoxious brat.”  He leans down to whisper in her ear like he’s keeping a secret from the walls, “you were committed to helping me with that, unless you’re a quitter, in which case—”

“Hiccup.”  She doesn’t want him to go there, to use that voice that makes everything sound so easy, like he can snap his fingers and summon the solution on a silver platter.  “We…have to be better about hiding it, ok?  No one can know, we can’t disappear together for hours on end—”

“I know I’m an embarrassment, but you can’t tour the crown jewel gallery if you’re too proud to be seen with me,” he nudges his hips against hers, missing the point with deft intention and she cups his chin, forcing him to look at her with stern fingers. 

“You can’t get everything you want.”  She lets her thumb brush across his lip and his tongue darts out after it as his eyes flick down. 

“Keeping a secret around the most highly monitored properties in Berk,” he kisses her, pulling back just far enough to murmur against her lips, “could be fun.” 

“Great.”  She grins, tugging on his hair just enough to stop him from distracting her further.  “We should get back.” 

“But we haven’t gotten my sweater yet,” he ignores her hold on his hair and kisses her jaw, “from my quarters…” His breath is warm on her neck as his hands migrate back to the buttons on her shirt, “my imaginary sweater that I made up so that we could finally talk.” 

“We’ve been gone for hours, I have to get back.” 

“We’ve already been gone for hours,” he pushes his birthright bundled luck, “what’s a couple more?”  He gets a button open and strokes her lower stomach, grinning against her cheek when she shivers.  “Plus, I feel so safe here.  More than normal.  You’re doing an excellent job—”

Her radio crackles to life with a shockingly loud burst of static before Fishlegs’ unusually panicked voice pours out into dark. 

“Rumblehorn has been compromised.  I repeat, Rumblehorn has been compromised.  All available units report immediately.” 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #334

"i dreamed i was missing  /  you were so scared  /  but no one would listen,  ‘cuz no one else cared”

Sunrise or sunset? Sunset has prettier colors, imo, but I enjoy the pastel nature of sunrises, too. Are you mentally ill? Oh brother. Are you physically ill? I don't have any serious physical health issues, no. Introvert or extrovert? I'm a very strong introvert. What do you think when you look at your body? That it's fucking disgusting. What have others said when they look at your body? When I was healthy, I was complimented every now and again. With the body I have now? I'm glad people keep their months shut. Do you have a particular song that you feel deeply? There's a good 'ole handful or two. Talk about a time in your life where you have felt most alive? It's weird, I'm not a city person at all, but possibly when I was walking the streets of Chicago with Sara and her dad one evening. There was just so much life, so many new sights, that it was impossible not to. Plus, I was at a very happy point in my life, so. I just enjoyed a lot. Are you confident wearing a bikini? FUCK NO. Have you ever been hurt physically or mentally by a family member? Mentally, obviously. Everyone has at some point. I've never been seriously physically hurt by family, but Mom did spank my sisters and me as kids if we did something wrong. Biggest lie you have told? I don't really know. I get really uncomfortable telling even minor lies, so making a big one would be excruciating. I'm not saying I've never said a biggie, I'm sure in 25 years of life I said something stupid at one point, I just don't remember it. Do you believe in the Illuminati? Nah; there's some compelling evidence, but I just think it's way too big of a secret to keep. Regrets in your life? Blaming the breakup entirely on Jason and saying just plain cruel things to him afterwards. Also sending an appallingly hateful letter to Dad to vent after the divorce. Flirting with my then-best friend's boyfriend at the time behind her back. Dating Tyler (it's a small one, but still a regret). There are others, those are just the only ones coming to me right now. Achievements in your life? Lots of academic success and awards (before college, anyway...), artistic accomplishments like having my work put in a museum, surviving a traumatic breakup, (mostly) recovering from massive depression... What did people say about you in school? Nothing, really. I was a quiet student who just did her work and tried hard. Is there something you have never told anyone? Yes. If you had two days to spend one million dollars how would you spend it? First, I'm paying off college debt. Then Mom gets a new car, followed by me getting new glasses and renewing my permit. I'm getting a good terrarium setup for Venus. Then, it's tattoo time, baby, haha. I can't really do the mental math on how much this all would cost, but those are the high-priority things I can think of. Describe your first kiss? Was it how you imagined? Jason and I were playfighting in bed, and he had me pinned. Our faces were close, and I decided to kiss him. It was a fairy tale moment, in my eyes. He looked so bashful for once (he's far from shy) but also really happy, and I was too. Growing up were you in a wealthy, average, or low income household? Low, I think. Or maybe average, when Dad was still around. Have you been raised by a solo parent? When I was around 17, my parents split, so kinda-sorta. Do you know both your parents? Thankfully, yes. Have you abused drugs or alcohol? No. Are you comfortable accepting compliments? Ehhhh, I really appreciate them and they can make my whole day, but I'm very awkward about it. I get shy. Are you comfortable giving compliments? Oh yes. I honestly love giving compliments; I know how happy they can make me, so why not share that with others? Is any mental illness hindering your life? Guess. (: Is any physical illness hindering your life? Well, it's not an "illness," but the muscles in my legs have severely atrophied from leading such a horribly sedentary lifestyle, and that has greatly affected my ability to work without the risk of just collapsing. Walking at all is painful. Are you preparing for an apocalypse? No. I'm not really one to worry about "prepping." If it happens, it happens, man. I'm not spending loads of money on a "maybe." Are you interested in cults? Not really, no. Are your parents good cooks? Mom is fine, but it's hard to really judge Dad's cooking since he barely ever did it, plus I haven't had his cooking in many, many years. I remember he was great at making breakfast, though. That was like a rare treat, him deciding to make breakfast for everyone. Have you ever been to a chiropractor? Did you like it? No. Do you know anyone who is an actor? No. Have your wisdom teeth come through yet? They never did. Have you ever used a public pay phone? No. Have you ever made an item of clothing? No. Have you taken someone's virginity? No. Is confidence cute? "Confidence, yes. But cockiness and arrogance, no. That’s a whole different area that’s definitely not cute." <<<< Nailed it. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh? Doubt it. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda? No; rather, I drink too much of it. I'm trying really hard to lay off of it, and I drink nowhere near as much as I used to (when oddly enough, I was healthy and fit), but I'm still not comfortable drinking a can and a half a day. Listening to? "Castle of Glass" by Linkin Park. Kinda obsessed. Ever used a bow and arrow? No, but archery is cool. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer? I don't think this has happened since my senior shot in HS. Take a vitamin daily? Daily, no, but I really should. I take a Vitamin D capsule every Sunday, though. Favorite Taylor Swift song? I only really like "Love Story" and "Picture to Burn." Have you ever cried because you were so happy? Yeah. Which are better: black or green olives? I don't like olives period, but I guess black. What’s your 3rd favourite animal? Huh, never thought of #3, just #1 and #2: meerkats and opossums. Maybe snakes? Do you like mushrooms? NO. NO NO NO. What dream do you remember most vividly? One I don't talk about. A childhood nickname? Mom called me "Twinkie" and still sometimes does. ;-; Does anyone in "real life" know that you take surveys? Would you be embarrassed if they found your blog? Just Sara. And yes, regarding some people. Who was the last person you blocked on social media? Did you have an argument that lead to that happening? I'm unsure, but probably. I don't tend to just like... randomly block people. What was the first social media account you remember signing up for? Are you still a member of that particular website, if it even still exists? Of course it was MySpace. It's still floating around somewhere in cyberspace. What website from your childhood/teen years do you wish still existed? I get nostalgic over the Animal Planet forums sometimes. Have you ever met up with anyone in real life that you first met via the internet? Did you get on as well as you thought you would? Yes, Sara. I felt like it would go just fine, but it went even better than I expected - I was oddly very comfortable around her and her family. Have you ever tried any of those meal replacement shakes? Are you a fan of things like that in general? Yeah; I tried many brands until I settled for Equate, surprisingly. Cheap does not equate to bad quality, my friends. We always have the chocolate ones in the house, and they're really not bad at all. Are you the kind of person to enjoy taking naps? I love me my daily nap, man. What's your favourite kind of cheese to have on a pizza? Idk, whatever cheese is normally used, lol. What's a hobby you loved when you were younger but no longer enjoy for whatever reason? I guess video editing. I can't say I'd no longer enjoy it at all, but now the idea sounds far more like a chore than fun. Is there a popular food/drink that you can't stand? What is it and why don't you like it? I could name five dozen, but here's just a few: coffee, pie, tea, fried chicken (or is that just a Southern thing to be obsessed with?), and... of course now that I'm asked this question, I'm blanking on the huge number I know exist. As for "why," that varies, but it's either just simply a taste or even a texture thing. How would your wedding boquet look like? I want a gothic-themed wedding, so imagine a mix of black and maroon roses... whew-wee. You’re at a bar, and you witness a man drugging some girl's drink. What do you do? No hesitation, I'm decking the motherfucker. Fuck my fear of men, he's getting knocked out, and I'm immediately alerting the staff, as well as of course the girl. Kids? How many? Why? Names? Boy or girl? Y'know, loads and loads of scaly and hairy ones. Got plenty of name ideas depending on what they are and how they look. The only baby whose gender matters to me is the tarantula because females live waaaay longer. Fuck them human babies, not for me. Are you an organ donor? Absolutely. I sure as hell ain't usin' 'em once I'm dead, so consider it my last act of selflessness. Whats the most you’ve ever lost gambling? I don't gamble. What is something you can never give up (that's not love or family)? My pebble from my "graduation" from my first partial hospitalization program. It's meant to symbolize how great pain and trials can file you into something beautiful. It was passed around group, everyone holding it in their hands as they wished me well and spoke their piece about me. I'm honestly just fighting back tears remembering it. Have you ever waited in line overnight for something? No, I'm way too impatient for that shit.. Do you think having an expensive phone is a good investment? Hm. I guess it depends on what you use it for. Have you ever witnessed a birth in person? A human birth, no fucking thank you. I've only ever seen pet cats give birth. Does anyone in your family smoke? My dad does, big time. He quit drinking, but never quite managed to stay away from cigarettes. Have you ever had a pet escape and run away? Seeing as I grew up with outdoor cats that we couldn't afford to fix, pretty much all of our tomcats left for roving once they came of a certain age. Do any of your exes know each other? Juan and Jason know each other, Jason and Girt know one another as well, and Sara and Girt have met. What’s an opinion you find impossible to take seriously? I simply cannot fathom the belief that "dinosaurs never existed." Explain the fucking fossils, like come the fuck on. It's absolute denial in the name of religion. What was the very first election you voted in? This one that just passed, actually. What is one random fact about you? I want like 20 tarantulas but Mom says no. :( Do you spend a lot of time outdoors in the summer? Fuck no, I will do anything to stay inside in summer. Do you wear band tees? if yes, which one is your favorite? I love band tees, yeah. My Ninja Sex Party shirt is the most comfortable, but comfort aside, it's hard to pick a favorite. Possibly my Otep one, 'cuz the design is dope. Do you ever re-arrange your room? No. What season do you want to get married in? Fall. What is the highest name-brand thing you own? Oh god, I don't own expensive brand stuff. I guess the only exclusion would be my Cloak shirt, but even that's not like, mad pricey. What color GameBoy did you have as a kid? Red. What was your favorite GameBoy game? Maybe that Catz game? Even though the music was the most fucking obnoxious meowing ever lmao. What was the last compliment you remember someone gave to you? Who was it? It was this guy in my PHP group; my therapist surprised the fuck out of me by sharing with everyone my most recent poem (I trust him a lot, and he urges me to send him my art, so I've done that twice), and I nearly fucking died from cardiac arrest. However, this Nick guy, who's a poetry major, told me it was better than stuff he reads in his Master's program. I almost cried. Have you ever personally been friends with a stripper or prostitute? No, not that I'm opposed though or anything. If you have tattoos, which one that you have was the most painful? The one on my inner forearm. Have you ever actually met and talked to someone who’s famous? No. When was the last time you got a parking ticket for anything at all? I never have. Do you have any pets who will bite anyone else out there, besides you? No; Roman won't even come close enough to a stranger TO bite, haha. It's funny, he's so goofy and you'd guess outgoing, but instead, he's terrified of people he doesn't recognize. What’s your favorite type of sushi? I don't eat sushi. What’s your favorite patriotic song? Don't have one. Have you ever read a book about a character in a psych ward? No, and I'd really prefer not to because it would just drag me back to dark times. Have you ever been in a mental hospital as a patient? ^ Have you ever had an ulcer? No. Do you like soy sauce? omfg no What’s your favorite store to browse around? Morph Market. @_@ It's a hub for reptiles for sale, and I have my days where I just browse the ball python morphs for like an hour or so, haha. What’s the name of the most recent baby a friend had? Christ, half my friends on Facebook are having babies, idr. I don't know who was the most recent. Do people normally say you’re a fast typer, or are you rather slow? I'm very fast. Have you ever been considered the "smartest person in school?" No; that was my friend Hannia. I'm pretty certain she would qualify as a genius. Her GPA was fucking incredible. Were you named after anyone famous or anyone on television? No.

[kc-anathema]

I’m so sorry I did another long post so soon...

So a long time ago, I received a flame on Spec Ops 98: Jazz's Interrogation at Soundwave's Pedes. I hadn’t received a flame in a long time, and I haven’t received one since (which is amazing, since this was on chapter 26 back in...dear heavens, 2015. This fic is officially an epic.)

In fact, I stopped reading the flame once I realized it was a flame, about four chunks in. 2015, five years ago, I was changing principals, changing schools, trying to figure out how to marry my Canadian then-fiance and figure out immigration. (Fun type--marry her in Vegas, wait a couple years, bring her over. Use a lawyer to make sure it’s all kosher.) So yeah, didn’t read.

And then a concerned reader mentioned to me that I didn’t deserve this awful flame and that they loved the story. And I thought...oh yeah, there was a flame on this. That was a couple months ago.

I finally decided to break the flame apart like I used to. This feels very nostalgic to me. I found out that this is really the flamer’s only claim to fame--they flame fics and troll writers. I’m not going to name them then, although you can find the easily on the ff.net review page for this fic.

My father once told me that, if anyone ever spraypainted slurs across my house...leave the slurs up. Don’t pay to remove them. Let the awful words stay up until everyone in the neighborhood is begging us to take them down again.

I think leaving the review there says more about her than me. And I’m going to enjoy clawing this apart, I think, like a cat scratching apart a lizard.

Flame begin:

We’ve got a problem if Soundwave is involved here and he’s not pulling his usual ‘Decepticons, Superior’ line. Add on a fic about perverts and we get this. Ah, well. What are you gonna do?

Remember the character Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory, and how he said “Bazinga” all the time? That kind of went from a joke to an overused character crutch. Like ‘dynomite!’ or ‘did I do that’? Is it really good to rely on a character line to the point where we can call it ‘usual’?

“I’ll take my pleasure and that sweet aft” – Sounds like a cheesy commercial for Robot Chicken. Fireflight is locked up in a dungeon and is about to be whipped by a BDSM Starscream. That’s not at all OOC. Basically it’s a fanfiction that talks about fanfiction.

I...um. Yes. Yes, it’s an OOC line modeled directly after pulp fiction zines and tijuana bibles. I literally looked up several of those on the Internet Archives and various old men’s magazines covers. It’s not fanfiction directly, although it’s certainly what fanfic evolved out of.

Do these look subtle? Low key? Classy? Tasteful? It’s cheap trash and it’s fun as hell. I don’t think readers at the time thought that these were in any way true. This is right along the lines of drawn hentai. So I think the flamer admitted despite themself that I did good.

“We’re stuck here in the middle of a war...we don’t have time for sex” – That’s right. But that fact doesn’t apply does it?

...reading trashy, porny magazines is not sex. It’s actually something you do when you can’t get sex for whatever reason. I would know. A lot of us would know. Apparently not the flamer. No one thinks that “hey, I got a chick/dude willing to bang right now...but the new issue of Men’s World is out! Can’t miss that!” Unless you have some serious fetishes that your partner is too weirded out by, I think this does indeed apply.

Then Jazz gets captured and lo and behold, Soundwave is revealed to be the Christian Grey of the story. I hope he has some maid outfits for Jazz.

...our flamer hits the sludgy bottom of the joke well and grabs their shovel. They do not try very hard for originality in their insults. And, while Grey was a jerk, Fifty Shades wasn’t quite a prisoner of war scenario. No, that was a cheap romance for chicks. I’m writing more akin to men’s...oh.

The flamer is a chick.

Their only bdsm or bad romance experience is with Fifty Shades.

I don’t think they read much.

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnd we have a shower scene. Damn if it’ll be Carrie!

Iiiiiiiiiiiii did not write a shower scene?

Dudette, did you even do the reading you say you did?

There’s no point in adding moral ambiguity, especially in regards to Soundwave. He won’t be swayed easily, or at all, by Jazz’s speech. He’s cold hearted for a reason. He serves the Decepticon cause until the very bitter end. He’s a lot like Shockwave that way. Highly doubtful he would find meaning or even the relevance of writing pornographic fanfiction, but eh, this was never meant to be serious, was it?

...no. It’s a humor fic. The flamer is criticizing a humor fic for being humorous. Kudos for identifying the genre? I mean, the flamer is also complaining that I did not write Soundwave as a one-dimensional factionalist without examining what that means for him and how the mission creep has left the original political crusade behind. It’s not like I took pieces of Soundwave from Gen1, IDW, and the comics and blend them all together.

This reminds me of the fanboys in the TMNT fandom who keep pushing for every iteration to simply rehash their nostalgia boner for the original toon. I feel like I’m getting the Transformers version of wanting less of this:

because it isn’t the familiar characterizations of this:

“So what’s the down low?” – You, Jazz. You’re going to give the down-low to Soundwave. I can’t wait to read how shiny his robo-vagina is.

...wow. Classy there, flamer. Also I really don’t think they read anything. This whole fic is plug n’ play. There’s exchanging of cables, talk of code and positronic souls and sparks and revving engines. There isn’t a drop of sticky, spike, or fluids.

Chapter 15’s sex scenes bore me. Nothing is worse than having a guy ask to remove every bit of clothing. Just do it already! And why is Jazz a virgin? Come on!

Look--the thing about sex and fetish and whatever revs your engine is that it’s not going to rev everyone’s engine. You don’t like the type of interfacing here? Fine. I don’t like those kind of sex scenes in my porn either. But I wasn’t write that scene for porn. I wanted write warbuild Jazz dealing with violent subroutines while interfacing with Prowl. I had fun with it.

Why is Jazz a virgin? The previous 15 chapters discuss that.

I really don’t think the flamer read the fic.They scanned for anything remotely sexual, so I don’t think I’m going to take anything they say about this fic being ooc for perversion’s sake.

“Everyone here is damn pervy” – In which a character talks about the author.

“We gotta get Soundwave to finish writing his story” – Why? I mean, what’s the point? It’s not doing anything for them, unless it’s to show how castrated Soundwave is. I’ve seen him act better in Mary-Sue fics.

There is a whole plot about Starscream and Skyfire, and I thought I could trust the readers to be intelligent enough to make the leap with the parallels between Soundwave and Jazz.

This is literally the only review that questions why Jazz said that.

The Mary Sue shot just echoes the Fifty Shades swipe. I think this flamer did most of their flames roughly ten years ago--the insults are pretty dated.

The Decepticons don’t know about Ratchet? Why? I mean, he’s one of the oldest dudes there. He has a reputation. When you have a reputation, people know about you. It’s inevitable. I think your inner logic slips a lot.

At this point, I literally have 21 previous chapters of world building.

I am not surprised that the story’s logic was slipping away from one of us.

It’s funny to read the forum responses in the story. It’s like the author is trying to make fun of detractors yet ends up making fun of herself.

Okay, this part is hilarious for a reason only briefly noted in the fic. I think that the only things this can refer to are the comments from the chapter titled Flames of the M4gn1f1c3ntSkyPr1nc3--because those are literally the first flames/comments I put in the fic. And I didn’t write them!

My wife wrote them! I don’t write Starscream well but she just poured those out like water--she’s seen more of the hysterical side of fandom, particularly the earlier TF fandom, and I snipped out pieces for the fic.

So...I mean, we’re pretty happily married, so I don’t think she counts as a detractor. ^___^ Ultimately I started writing this fic for her.

“Your optics make me crazy” – Not at all a cliché.

Good thing I didn’t write that, then. Here is that little section in the Prowl/Jazz section. (Took me a bit to find it since I plugged that into the Find and couldn’t bring it up.)

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

I like what you do to me. Jazz allowed him in, tilting his helm. I never really understood it, y'know? How mechs could lower their guard so much. Let someone this close.

And now? Prowl drew back, wanting to see Jazz for the answer. With a quiet ping, he warned the other mech even as he raised his hand, touching Jazz's visor.

I still think you're crazy always going on about my optics, Jazz said, venting even as he disengaged the locks and let Prowl gently remove the blue polycarbon.

Your optics are perfection, Prowl corrected him. And you let me see them. Hundreds of mechs wondering what's under that visor, but I get to see.

Still shy about letting someone else see them, Jazz turned his head, only for Prowl to touch his cheek and turn him back, coaxing his optics to open with a soft brush of his thumb.

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

Not bad for an asexual, I think. I mean, it’s not like I have a ton of hands on experience, being kinda broken that way. But I have read plenty of pulp magazines and pulp radio shows!

This didn’t take long. I skimmed through this work, because there was so little content. Lots of ridiculous shit, though. Soundwave writes fanfiction, the Autobots are weirded out/turned on, capture Soundwave, Soundwave realizes that his whole life was a life and decides to defect. Yeah, about that. He wouldn’t do it lickety split, let alone EVER. Hell, the reactions in the forum bits show what some would think of this, if they weren’t too busy fapping.

The funny thing is I don’t think the mechs can even fap. I don’t write them doing that. But yes, flamer, I do believe that you skimmed through the work. Particularly since you’ve recounted it backwards...Soundwave captures Jazz as the capstone to a long internal conflict within himself, but rather than go through chapters of internal monologue and Decepticon politics, I started the story as close to the inciting action as possible, not quite in media res.

I won’t hash out why Soundwave defects. I mean, I spent 22 chapters at that point explaining it. But it’s my fault the flamer skimmed, I guess?

Needless to say: the romance bored me senseless. It was poorly written, and overall there’s really no skill attached to this. You don’t grip the audience and Jazz’s virgin mode made me roll my eyes. Reads like a first-time waifu manga.

Nah.

I’ve been writing way too long and am more than self-aware enough of my own failings that I’m also pretty self-aware of my own strengths, too. And no. It’s not poorly written. I definitely feel I could improve the first few chapters a bit, but that’s because I wrote those over five years ago and I’ve improved since then, too.

Empty insults. Maybe if the flamer had gone so far as to give a critique beyond a couple of misquoted lines and their own headcanons, I might have listened, but there’s literally nothing of substance here beyond a child tantrumming that I’m stupid and bad and should feel bad.

As for the other pairings, booooooooooooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring.

Usually I have a fun time setting these fics on fire, but this one bored me senseless. Yes, it was stupid, but the author’s attempt to authenticate it are just as sloppy as anything else.

“Authenticate”?

Is this person talking about using fandom tropes as my setting?

There are 22 chapters at the time, and now 51 chapters, building up this world and using roughly 20 years of fandom background to inform the fic.

Maybe if they hadn’t skimmed, they might have found something interesting. But considering that they skimmed over anything character related and stopped for the sex scene--I don’t think that says anything about my writing and more about their own proclivities.

They were trying to read one-handed. A plug n play fic. A long meta look at fandom in war in a humor fic. And they came here for the sexy times.

I don’t have to draw the conclusion here, do I? Well, for the flamer, probably. And then they’d glance at it for a second, call it sloppy, and say I showed nothing, and what I showed was boring, and that boring stuff was ooc anyway.

One thing I am thankful for is the fact that it is not long.

51 chapters later and I’m still not done.

Nothing’s worth remembering in this and I don’t need to tell you that these characters either act like simpering imbeciles, or are virginal waifus. All I’m missing is a senpai in the bed, some tissues, and some high quality lotion.

...why do they keep referencing gay human sex? I mean, I get it, they’re saying that it’s similar to yaoi fics, but.

This is anti-yaoi with its last hurrah, isn’t it? The late 90s, early 2000s, rising from its sludgy well to try to shame the easily cowed and intimidated, the young writers easily startled by long lines of text. No wonder the citations used are so...15 years ago. I mean, who was talking about Sues even 5 years ago. That criticism kind of faded a long while ago, even then.

I think the sad thing is, even the badly written Sue sex fics end up being more interesting than this. If Ebony Darkness D’Mentia Raven Way were to come along, I think this story would get better. What with her ‘I shot him a gazillion times’ lines.

...and there’s the cherry on the top. Third cheap shot firing blanks. Sue + Fifty Shades +...shit, I can’t even remember the title for that infamous fic. It’s that old.

...this fanfic flamer is old.

Like, don’t get me wrong. We’ve got fandom moms and grandmoms who cut their teeth on fandom print zines in the earliest conventions. They’re not “old” in the same way.

This person has lost any joy, humor, or playfulness that fanfic comes from. No one should go into fanfic expecting fine art. I mean, sure, it happens sometimes, but this is a playground of pulp, experimentation and just plain childish fun.

All in all, not worth remembering. It’s makes me tired to read it. It’s not even stupid enough to make me laugh. You’ll still get a fail rating for me, especially with the shitty version of Soundwave here.

Yes, fanfic flamer. You are indeed tired.

He should be on Big Brother. He’d be great making soy lattés and purees.

Big Brother in 2015 was in its 17th season. There were roughly around 6 million viewers at the time. The demographics for the tv viewing audience were graying even by the 2000s, and by 2015-18, it was significantly older.

Granted, it’s a very tenuous conclusion to draw, but combined with the old fandom references, the anti-yaoi vibes I’m getting, and the fanboyish desire to curate their own headcanon of a character to the point of insulting writers on the internet...

Flamer grew from being a reader to a bitter, old person angry and the whipper snappers for writing stupid, trashy crap that they criticize with broad, unspecific insults.Flamer is the stereotypical mean adult in any 90s cartoon or heavy metal rock video.

A little depressing. Poor flamer. I do hope they found more creative, engaging, and positive things to do.

Me? I just wanna rock.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk on pulp fiction and bitter cultural creators.

[domesticsns]

More Izuna being a little shit please🙏🙏

Izuna being a little shit is becoming my bread and water (jk nobody pays me) 

Izuna was in the shower one evening while Sasuke and Naruto were doing grocery shopping so he was alone in the apartment. He heard the door of the bathroom and he figured it was Sasuke because the two knew each other pretty well when they were kids, i mean sure they hadn’t been this close anymore but he figured maybe Sasuke being a bit more open. So he didn’t think too much about it. That is when the curtains were pulled open and Izuna blinked a couple of times seeing Tobirama Senju. 

And he is looking him up and down and goes, “You’re not Sasuke.” 

“I am the upgraded version,” Izuna snaps back, folding his arms. 

“Yes, you’re so much more compact.” Tobirama says staring looking down at Izuna’s crotch zone. 

“How would you know?” 

“We have showers at the precinct.” Tobirama answered calmly, moving his eyes up to meet Izuna’s. 

“Sasuke doesn’t use those. He finds communal showers disgusting. He rather showers at home in a bathroom he cleans thoroughly twice a week.” 

“Fair enough. You got me, I have no idea how it looks like now” Tobirama admits. “So you’re not as dumb as you seem.” 

“I went to university....Before dropping out and touring with a band over europe. They were the opening band of this other band...I forgot the name it was years ago. Lots of groupies...I got an STD for the first time...Threatable of course. Made me a lot more cautious.” 

“Chlamydia?”

“No Gonorrhoea.” Izuna says. “Always better than aids.” 

“Congratulations you did not get aids during hoe-phase that is lasting till...How old are you 34? 35?” 

“At heart I am twenty-one.” Izuna says with a little smile on his face. 

“Right...” Tobirama says, “So where is Sasuke?” 

“Grocery shopping, probably banging in the car since he is too shy to have sex in the house with me around. But it was apparently okay to suck Naruto off just proof a point to me...Whatever sometimes I don’t even get him and I was basically his translator when he couldn’t talk.” 

“He couldn’t talk?” Tobirama asked. 

“Oh he didn’t tell you? I thought he told everyone. After my aunt shot herself through the head right in front of him he didn’t speak for years. At most he got a few words out and that was like the biggest progress he had until he went to middle school. Man he bugged the hell out of my uncle. He hated it. He spend so much money on these speeches coaches and therapist and counselors . He got so fed up. Man he locked him up in a closet for a whole day. My dad had to get him out and tell my uncle it was borderline abuse. Which was ironic because my dad had a short fuse himself and once threw me across the room as a child and I cracked my skull...You can still feel it, u wanna feel it?” 

“No thank you, but your behaviour is starting to more sense to me.” Tobirama says. 

“Hmmm, so what ya here for?” 

“I got a lead, I wanted to move on it but seems he’s not here.” 

“What’s the deal with you two anyway?” Izuna asks. 

“We’re having a whole conversation while you’re naked.” Tobirama notes. 

“I am comfortable in my body.” Izuna states. 

“I admire that.” 

“Tell me, what’s the deal? You into him? You wanna fuck him? You’re crushing?” Izuna gasped, “Are you in love?” 

“He is a co-worker. I despise slightly less because he carried my brother’s dead body to me instead of leaving it in a forest to be eaten by wolves and told me his words.” 

“How intense...What where they?” Izuna asked, a little overstepping.

Tobirama looked up from his thoughts and whispers, “That he loved me.” 

“Oh..That story sounds a little familiar...Oh my god...Oh I should not tell you this.” Izuna says, pulling the curtains back so he was hidden. 

Tobirama pulls the curtains away again. 

“What?” 

“No, I am not going to say that. This was told to me in confidence after i gave Sasuke like two pot brownies.” 

“Oh certainly don’t want to be tray that confidence. I admire that. However, he did tell you that your outfit today...Looked really bad. Like you were some cheap whore.” 

“Did he say that!?” Izuna looks angry. 

“Yeah, he said more awful things about not having your shit together and being a burden.” 

“What exact did he say about my outfit!?” Izuna insisted. 

“You looked like a cheap whore...that exactly.” Tobirama says. 

“Oh...Uhu...As if he is dressed nice with those suits and the ties and-” 

“To be fair it is mandatory clothing.” 

“Oh yea, are you in the right headspace to  receive the news that will probably make you feel like shit and want to punch Sasuke in the face?” 

“I always want to punch him in the face....Also kinda want to choke him. Go on.” 

“So he was high he told me about the first kid saw dying for the first time and how stomach was slashed open-” 

“That how my youngest brother died...” Tobirama said. 

“Yes he also told me he lied about his last words when his brother, I assume it is you,asked. He made it up. He told him..Oh well you...That his last words were that he loved you, but truly his last words were screams of agony and the disbelieve of seeing his bowels hanging out from his stomach. He just couldn’t bring himself to say the that.” 

Tobirama goes quiet. 

“I know, I know. He can be a bitch. What exactly about my outfit looked like a whore? Did he say something specific?” 

“Uh...No..No he did not.” Tobirama said. 

“Hey, you okay?” Izuna puts his hand on Tobirama’s shoulder. 

“You’re making me wet.” 

“I make a lot of people wet...” 

“Not me, my clothes, idiot.” Tobirama takes a step away. “Anyway if you see him tell him...You know what don’t tell him I was here at all. I’ll handle it myself.” 

“Or...Or..and hear me out...You join me in the shower, we fuck, and we can enjoy the sheer pleasure of the knowledge that we did it in his shower which will piss him off.” 

“Fucking in the shower? Or us fucking in his shower?” 

“Us fucking in the shower.” Izuna says.  “Come on, you won’t regret it I am pretty good. Most of Sasuke’s moves. I taught him.” 

“I doubt that.” Tobirama says, thinking of the time he accidently caught the show of Naruto and Sasuke doing.

“I did work in two porns, they’re on the internet. I still get money when somebody presses the add.” 

“You’re not afraid your family will find out?” Tobirama asks. 

“I am not stupid...I had a wig on. Short black...Spikes in the end. I even used an alias... I said my name was Sasuke. So y’know if my family sees it they think it is him and they won’t say a word because if he does it..It is because of his traumas, but when I do it..I am an attention seeking whore.” 

“you have issues, boy.” Tobirama says, “I am going to be honest with you. I don’t really care about sex, but...” He looks Izuna up and down, “I guess why not. If it pisses Sasuke off I am in.” 

“And y’know, you get me.” Izuna said, indicating to his body. 

“Sure, it is not bad.” Tobirama says as he takes off his jacket. 

Oxoxoxox

Sasuke and Naruto come home from grocery shopping and they put the bags in the kitchen. 

“Izuna?...Zuzu? Where are you?” He knocks on the bathroom door. 

“Just a minute!” He hears Izuna shout. 

“Zuzu, you’ve been in there since we left, this is beyond freeloading.” He says and he opens the door and he pulls the curtains away and took a deep, deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppp, breath. And he looks at Tobirama and then he looks at Izuna. 

“When you’re done...I want you to clean this bathroom from top to bottom with bleach and I want you out of my house.” 

“Me?!” Izuna frowns.

“No, not you. You’re family we’re connected by blood. I have to deal with you.I am talking about number seven you slept with this week.”  He looks at Tobirama.

“We’re not sleeping we’re just fucking in the shower,” Izuna says, “So can we finish?” 

Sasuke walked out of the bathroom closing the door.

Naruto was in the kitchen and said, “Tobirama is in there with Izuna, isn’t he?” 

“How did you know?” Sasuke sighed. 

“The window to the fire escape is open.” 

“Clever.” Sasuke said. 

“You seem upset, for someone who is married...”  Naruto noted carefully. 

“I am not upset I am mad. That is my bathroom. I shower in there. He has his own bathroom, they should do it in his apartment.” 

“I feel like that...That’s not the reason why you’re upset.” 

“Yeah also...You expect someone to give you a heads up. That is my cousin and that my co-worker. It’s weird like if I would date his brother.” 

“I mean they already made out and Izuna did state he was interested in him. This should not be a surprise for a detective.” Naruto made a clear point. 

“It is just awkward.” Sasuke said. 

[purplesurveys]

868

Favorite beverage: Just your good ol’ cold water. If I wanna treat myself I’ll get milk tea. When was the last time you had ketchup? Ooh I don’t remember...it would probably be 3-4 weeks ago. Or whenever the last time we had lumpia was, because I like drowning that shit in ketchup. Have you ever had a red hotdog? Yeah frozen hotdogs is a favorite snack here and they’re usually red. We usually have them for breakfast, it’s served in parties, it’s in every school caf, etc. What is the most recent gift you've been given? So my uncle has his budding cooking business and sells different dishes everyday. His most recent bestseller is burnt basque cheesecake and while I’ve always wanted my own because it looks SO good, I just haven’t had the money to allot for it. I was really surprised when my grandma called me up today and told me she had ordered an entire cake for me as a graduation gift :) I asked my dad to pick it up from her place this afternoon and it’s crazy delicious.

Is what you're wearing comfortable? Yeup, now that it’s cooler. I sweated through my top when it was hot earlier though, and that wasn’t a comfortable situation at. all.

Did you leave the house today? Nah. I did step out to help my dad with the groceries, but that was it for today’s adventure. Are there bumper stickers on your car? No. If I wanna put stickers on my car I would rather have them on my rear window, and not directly on my car. Are you watching tv right now? What? The dining room TV is turned on but I’m not watching; my dad likes to have it on to listen to the evening news while he cooks dinner. Are you wearing anything blue? Nope, it’s all black for me today. Do you have a job? Not yet. Is your car messy? No. There’s really no reason for it to be, I’ve only driven out once since March. When did you last have whipped cream? I...can’t recall, actually. We don’t have whipped cream at home and I don’t think I ever ordered anything with whipped cream on it shortly before lockdown. How far away is the closest house? 10-20 steps away, depending on how big your stride is. What street do you live on? I’m not dropping that on here. The most I’ll tell you is that our streets are named after tropical cities, haha.

What is your favorite flavor of smoothie? Used to not like smoothies 100% because of the presence of fruits in them, but thanks to my friends Apple and Ed introducing me to Go Salads I’ve come to really like their Breakfast Smoothie – which, after looking up their menu just now, has apple, banana, cinnamon, oats, coco sugar, chia seeds, greens, and soy milk. Are you dating anyone? Yes ma’am. What color is you computer? Silver. Do you own an iPod? What color is it? Technically I still do but only because I haven’t thrown it out. It’s a blue iPod Nano. What is the most recent picture on your phone/camera of: A photo of the aforementioned burnt basque cheesecake. I was planning to post a Facebook status to promote my tito’s business and show my support, so I asked my sister to take a few aesthetic shots of the cake for my post to look presentable. Have you ever shot a gun? No. I’ve shot a fake one that belonged to Athenna’s dad, which he used for like target practice or something. What temperature is it? 31C.

Do you know anyone with a third nipple? No but Harry Styles has four, HAHAHA. There’s your random fact for the day. What do your parents do for a living? My dad’s an executive sous chef and my mom’s a secretary in her specific department in the hotel she works in. Both have always been in the hotel and restaurant industry. Have you ever had a pet that had babies? No. We’ve avoided female dogs because we know we’re not capable of caring for newborn puppies, so instead of potentially being reckless owners we’ve just not had female pets altogether. Which grocery store is closest to you? A local mall chain that has their own grocery, SM. Do you have a hamper in your room? Nah, my parents prefer a general hamper in the bathroom. Do you know anyone that's a nurse? Yes, I have several aunts and as far as I know, one cousin :) I feel really bad for them especially in these times, but they’re such strong people and they just keep powering through and powering through. Do you know someone with the name Alaina? Not that I can recall. What color is the blanket on your bed? Off-white. What are your parent's middle names? No thank you. Have you ever broken a bone? Never. Do you wear braces or glasses? I wore braces in high school, and I’ve had glasses since Grade 5. What color are they? I picked a different color for my braces for every monthly visit cause it made me feel quirkly; my glasses’ frame is dark brown. Are you currently reading a book? Not currently, no. When did you last get your blood drawn? Ughhhhh, cringed reading this haha. Last May when I needed to get a blood test done. Have you ever done hard drugs? Nopes. How many contacts are in your phone? I just know I have a lot, but Apple doesn’t tell you exactly how many and I don’t feel like counting all of them right now. Does your toilet have a seat cover? It has a lid cover, but not a seat cover. What's currently on your grocery list? My dad did the groceries today so we’re pretty stocked rn. What things do you take with you everywhere? My glasses, car and house keys, phone, wallet. Do you know someone that is/was over 100 years old? Gab’s great-grandma was like 106 or 107 by the time she passed. Was your HS principal a girl or a boy? Girl. I went to an all-girls school so it would honestly be a little peculiar if we had a male principal. Have you ever eaten a raw egg? Nah. I wanna try it out though, just for funsies. Do you own any rings? Gab got me this cheap ring for the shits and giggles, but I stopped wearing it when it started turning pink and smelling weird. So no.

If you were to get a new puppy what would you name her? We did get a new puppy! ;) But should we get another, the name will depend on the puppy’s attitude and overall vibe. That’s what we did with Cooper, who was named after Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory because he had been a smartass from the very first minute we played with him. Have you eaten fruit today? No. What about milk? Even more nope haha. I can’t have it all the time. What letter does your state start with? We don’t have states. My province starts with the letter R. Could you list all 50 states? I’ve listed them down on countlesssssss occasions but I always only come up with 35-45 states. I’ve observed that the ones I always forget about are the states in the middle of the map/country-ish states hahaha. What about their capitals? I know a good number of the states’ capitals, but I’ll still undoubtedly do worse. What internet browser do you use? I’ve been on Chrome for the longest time. Do you know anyone that lives in Wyoming? I don’t think so. Do you smoke cigarettes? Yes, starting this year lol. Which person you know has the most unique name? I’m sure I know more unique ones out there but the first names that came to mind are friends of mine named Bernadean, Jeuel (pronounced Jay-well), and Jabes. Oh and I also have an aunt named Marheedoll. Do you know someone that's missing a limb? I don’t think so, no. Do you have facial hair? I do not. Are you a bad person? Not when it comes down to it. I have my petty moments though. What was the last swear you said? I almost yelled the word puta in front of my dad earlier, but I slurred the word and made random noises to avoid saying the full thing haha so it kinda went like puuuuutehshahjskhf. Have you ever called the police on someone? No. What is the most amount of pets you've had at one time? Three – one dog and two birds. When did you last check your email? Last night. I wanted to check if I received any email from the college. Have you ever had a 3rd degree burn? Nope and that sounds so painful, I never want to sustain one. Have you ever ridden in an ambulance? I haven’t. How long is your hair? Right now it reaches only my collarbones. I had it cut fairly recently, so it’s still on the shorter side. Do you lock your doors at night? The doors on the first floor. Does your bedroom have a lock? It does but my mom is such a big sissy about locks and says that “there’s nothing to hide/be private about” since we’re all relatives. She really shouldn’t have gotten a lock for my room if I wasn’t allowed to use it anyway... What do you have at your bedside? I have a rattan trunk that stores all my childhood knickknacks like board games and encyclopedias; then on the other side is a drawer with my home clothes and other knickknacks on the lower drawers. I got some hoarding tendencies from my grandma, so a lot of the stuff I keep in the drawer really has no reason behind my keeping them until today. How big is your bed? Not big at all, it’s just twin-sized. I am so investing on a big-ass bed when I have my own place. Do you know someone that was murdered? I didn’t know her personally but an alumna from my old school got stabbed to death. I don’t know the details but I think she got stabbed because she had gadgets on her, which makes you an easy target for criminals here. The only reason I know her is because my school would do tributes for her from time to time, so I really can’t tell you anything more other than she was stabbed. Do you know someone who's pregnant? I don’t think so. Do you wear a watch? Used to, but I kept losing them. What was your first pet? A pair of goldfish. How much jewelry do you own? Not a lot. The ones I do wear are technically my mom’s too; she just likes sharing them with me. What is the closest purple thing? Probably the ube halaya in the fridge. Green? A piece of Cooper’s toy. What time is it? It isssss 8:43 PM. What is your ideal profession? Lawyer. How tall are you? A little over 5 feet. Have you ever gotten x-rays? Probably once when I was a kid, then around two or three times before I started college. Do you wear gloves in the winter? I imagine I would but we don’t get winter. Do you consider yourself smart? Academic-wise, yep. I’m good at tests and memorizing and I generally enjoy reading educational content. Are you good at algebra? Yeah but I wanna keep it at algebra and geometry lol, I don’t have the patience for calculus and trig. What color eyes are the prettiest? I’ve always loved green/olive green eyes. Are your teeth straight? One of my front teeth protrudes a bit, but that’s all my fault because I lost my retainers back when I still had to use them. My teeth are otherwise fine. Do you like chocolate milk? LOVE IT Do you own a bike? We own a family bike and I’m free to use it, I just don’t because I don’t know how lmao Are you taller than your mom? No. I thought I’d grow taller than her because I had an intense growth spurt at one point, but it never happened. Have you ever been engaged? No. What, in your opinion, is the ugliest name? I’m not a fan of names that end in -leigh, but I don’t think they’re ugly names.

[punkrockpolitix]

Strap in for an Ugly Ride

by Mitch Maley — This week, presumptive Democratic presidential nominee Joe Biden did the most Joe Biden thing left to do in announcing that centrist NeoLiberal Senator Kamala Harris would be his running mate. The establishment left swooned and suburban liberals rejoiced, while the lunatic right clutched their collective pearls at such a “radical” choice. Meanwhile, the rest of us yawned as the stage was set for an absurd, bizarro world, alternative-reality election that will take place in the midst of the most unstable American society in modern history.

The chaos created by the 45th President of the United States has a way of wearing the reasonable mind rather thin. After all, who aside from the angry mobs of nativists does not long for a return to the normalcy of the early aughts when all we had to worry about was forever wars in the Middle East, an infinitely-expanding wealth gap, 50 million Americans without healthcare, and trade policies that had hollowed out the middle class. Sure, the children of white collar elites would continue to thrive (so long as they could avoid pill mills and heroin needles). Meanwhile, the offspring of former factory workers who couldn't afford an increasingly cost-prohibitive college education would toil in Amazon warehouses with few benefits and no shot at the kind of modest defined-benefit pensions that had allowed their parents to enjoy some modicum of prosperity in their twilight years and increasingly gloomier chances of even enjoying the social security payments that have kept millions more from abject poverty once their working days were behind them, but that was certainly a little easier to swallow than 2020 has thus far been.

Sure, automation had already begun eating away at more jobs than even offshoring had, we'd done nothing to address the climate crisis beyond symbolic, feel-good policies that avoided pissing off the wrong special interests, and the only amber waves of economic growth in the past 30 years had been driven by engineered bubbles. So what? Wall Street was happy (the stock market tripled under Obama) even if the big party was being floated by artificially-cheap credit, and besides, we could all go to sleep each night relatively certain that we wouldn't face a zombie apocalypse type situation on any given morning which is more than you can say about our current situation.

But let's not forget where things had gotten by 2016 when populist spasms on both sides of the ideological spectrum saw our traditional two party-driven political process totally upended. Harnessing the power of the internet had been largely responsible for President Obama successfully splintering the Democratic establishment in 2008, but let's not over-romanticize the grass or the roots. Obama was the product of an inter-party schism that saw a large number of career Dems break from the Clinton dynasty and its requirement for complete fealty to the party's grudge-bearing first family.

Obama was not an anomaly. He was Wall Street approved, Bilderberg-blessed and mainstream media anointed because, regardless of what others projected upon him, he was a typical center-right Dem who wouldn't rock any of those boats. Yes, the right labeled him a dangerously-radical liberal, but those who paid attention in the 2008 primary will recall that the actual semi-progressive candidate, Congressman Dennis Kucinich, had to be actively cropped out of the debates in order for that narrative to take hold. After all, it wouldn't do to have Kucinich onstage talking about Medicare for All and explaining how to get out of Iraq tomorrow any more than it would do for Ron Paul to be onstage in Republican debates calling out the NeoCon likes of Mitt Romney and John McCain.

Under Obama, the war machine kept rolling, taxes remained at historic lows, deportations skyrocketed and we expanded warrantless surveillance and other Big Brother police state tactics, including sending "surplus" tanks and other military armament to your local police forces. In other words, most of the things liberals hated most about the Bush era continued only they didn't hate them as much anymore. That said, institutional norms remained in place, our allies were quite happy and Americans, or at least those who weren't driven mad by the thought of someone with brown skin holding the highest public office, could hold their heads high knowing that they had an intelligent and articulate statesman at the helm who wouldn't embarrass them with Bush's tangled English or Clinton's infidelities. He was a family man who loved his wife and children and treated even his most vile-mouthed opponents with the courtesies of polite society. Yes, it's easy to grow nostalgic for such normalcy in the age of Trump.

However, years of bailing out Wall Street banksters who'd crashed the economy, allowing hedge fund managers to pay lower tax rates than teachers and failed companies to hand out huge bonuses often paid for by the taxpayers themselves took its toll. Millions of Americans who'd seen their homes foreclosed upon were scolded for buying into the worthless products being pushed by those same banksters—reverse mortgages, sub-prime interest-only loans, etc.—and lectured about "personal responsibility" and the "moral hazard" of bailing them out, even as those same fat cats who'd been rescued themselves swooped in to buy up all of those empty houses for cheaply-borrowed pennies on the dollars in order to make money hand over fist renting them back to the creditless schmoes who'd been kicked to the curb. It turns out a lot of people were fed up.

Enter Bernie Sanders and Donald J. Trump, two men, as different as can be, who nonetheless each managed to harness enough of the sometimes dangerous power of populist anger to finally upset the apple cart that had been two-party politics. While their platforms were radically different, the essential nature of their messaging was the same: you're getting screwed and have been for a long time. Their message was particularly well-received by working-class whites in formerly industrial states who'd been ignored by both parties for decades, beyond rhetoric from the right about it being the fault of illegal immigrants and rhetoric from the left about educational programs that would retrain the working class for the jobs of tomorrow. Regardless of whether they believed in or even understood the solutions either candidate was offering didn't matter so much as someone at last acknowledging that the reality they'd been experiencing actually existed.

The Clinton machine, with the DNC's foot on the scale and the MSM distorting perception, was able to (barely) keep Sanders at bay. Meanwhile, the GOP may have been able to do the same had it not been for the sheer giddiness of legacy media outlets like WAPO, the New York Times, MSNBC and CNN for what they saw as the death of the modern Republican party should it actually nominate a crass, foul-mouthed blowhard of a third-rate reality TV star (who'd until recently been a Democrat) for President. Make no mistake, Clinton's people desperately wanted to take on Trump, believing it amounted to not only an easy win, but a path toward retaking Congress, despite having been gerrymandered out of contention (for those of you who came to politics late, the GOP's electoral success in 2010, saw them take over a majority of state legislatures just ahead of the once-every-decade reapportionment that follows a census, allowing the party to gerrymander Congressional districts to such a degree that Democrats could not gain ground, despite regularly receiving millions more total Congressional votes than Republicans each cycle).

Everyone inside the beltway was caught sleeping in 2016. The Republican establishment never saw Trump coming and didn't know what to do with him when he arrived. Remember how sad Jeb Bush seemed in the debates? Remember how ineffective Marco Rubio was when he tried to sink to Trump's name calling? By the same token, the Democrats were so tone-deaf as to who Bernie was appealing to (far more aging New Dealers and working-class labor Democrats than the teen radicals they imagined) that they actually thought making trans-bathroom laws a wedge issue would drive turnout for their side. Imagine living in Michigan and working the counter at a Dollar General because the stamping factory you used to work at moved to Mexico, wondering whether your kid's rehab from Oxycodone would finally stick this time while being told that the real fight to be won was about where the gender fluid would take a leak.

That's not to say that trans rights aren't a worthy issue, so much as to point out how out of touch you would have had to have been to think it was a winning one in that moment of time. And if you think there was something more altruistic behind it, ask yourself how much energy has been expanded by the party on the same subject since. Like abortion-related ballot referendums used by Republicans to drive evangelicals to the polls, out-of-touch Beltway Dems thought that identity politics was the path to uniting the left-wing of their party and getting the Bernie crowd to turnout for Hillary, even after the DNC got caught smoothing her path to victory. After all, the donor class Dems never mind looking woke, especially if it prevents them from having to get behind things like a living minimum wage that might actually mean less coins falling into their coffers. And that my friends is what created the relatively small yet curious "I voted for Bernie in the primary and Trump in the general" demographic, not sexism, spite or misogyny.

Fast-forward to 2020 and Bernie is finally poised to emerge as the resistance candidate. Despite the MSM again selling alternative facts that kept explaining away his success, his path to the nomination looked inevitable until the Democratic establishment again intervened, this time with Obama in the role of Clintonesque king maker, convincing moderate establishment favorites Pete Buttiegeg and Amy Klobuchar to take one for the team ahead of Super Tuesday so that a path could be cleared for a sputtering Biden campaign to claim the nomination. For his part, Biden's 40-year record is as right of center as a Democrat can be without going full Joe Lieberman, so the remaining question was how not to repeat 2016 in alienating so much of the left-wing as to ensure Trump another four years.

Then, like a gift from the political gods, Trump began shooting himself in the foot so frequently in his responses to the pandemic and civil unrest that his approval rating—which has never even hit 50 percent even once during his presidency (not surprising considering he won the White House with a smaller share of the vote than either Romney or John Kerry managed in losing)—sunk to a pathetic 35 percent, convincing the NeoLiberal bosses that it was no longer necessary to kiss any rings on the far left. Bernie, Elizabeth Warren and even Tulsi Gabbard and AOC had already bent a knee to Uncle Joe, imploring their supporters to vote blue no matter who, so why not instead go after the moderate Republicans and Bush-era Never Trumpers whose ideology make the Democratic donor class feel much more comfortable than the progressive left’s anyway?

Enter Kamala Harris, who, to the Democratic donor class at least, signals nothing less than a female Barack Obama. And they’re not exactly wrong in that she’s a highly-articulate, ideologically-flexible politician capable of putting a friendly, progressive veneer on the modern NeoLiberal platform. That’s probably why the left-leaning corporate media outlets tried so hard to give her a push in the primary, even though voters simply didn’t find her to be a compelling candidate. Despite a healthy fundraising machine and the focused attention of MSNBC and CNN, Harris didn’t even make it to Iowa, dropping out ahead of what surely would have been a bottom tier finish in her home state of California. In that sense, it’s hard to see what she brings to the ticket in terms of electoral success. Fortunately, she won’t have to deliver her home state, but while much has been made of the fact that she’s the first woman of color to be on a major party ticket, it’s worth noting that there’s little to suggest she’ll help turn out the African American vote as most polls had her fourth of fifth even among black voters, who preferred Biden, Warren and even Sanders over the Senator from California.

As long as we’re on the subject of Harris’s race, however, it’s worth noting that the we're-not-racist right immediately went down the rabbit hole with birther conspiracies disgustingly-similar to those used against Obama that, within moments of the announcement, were used to question her eligibility to ascend to the presidency and fear monger that it was all a plan to install Nancy Pelosi when an aging Biden stepped down soon after being elected. Harris was born in the United States and, furthermore, born to two U.S. citizens. Her eligibility shouldn’t be in question to anyone who’s taken a junior high civics class, yet from what we’ve seen already, I’m sure it won’t be long until someone asks to see her birth certificate.

That said, despite the RNC's painting Harris as the most radical choice possible, her politics are no more progressive than Biden's, as evidenced by the two articles in the Wall Street Journal about Wall Street “breathing a sigh of relief” at her selection. In fact, one of the audition rounds for the veepstakes included hosting a Biden fundraiser and insiders have suggested that it was deep-pocketed Obama donors and not Uncle Joe himself who put her over the top. In Harris, the NeoLiberal establishment has all but cordoned off the progressive wing of the party, perhaps for a decade to come. Like Obama, she allows them to market a progressive package to make affluent suburban liberals feel good without making Wall Street, Big Pharma, Big Tech, or the military industrial complex the least bit nervous. In fact, in a communication to investors, Goldman Sachs essentially said that even if it means the Trump tax cuts go away, the stability and predictability of a Biden administration would be at least as good for the 1 percent's bottom line.

To hear the Trump campaign tell it, however, Biden's selection of Harris is nothing less than a signal that, in his cognitive decline, Sleepy Joe has acquiesced to becoming nothing more than a puppet for far left radicals like Bernie, AOC and the rest of The Squad. In their narrative, if elected, he’d be doing the bidding of Antifa, while doing away with everything from God and religion to guns and even the suburbs, and the dangerously radical Harris is only further proof of that. In one of their weirdest turns yet, the Trump campaign is literally showing clips of what America has become under Trump himself and warning that this is what will happen if Biden is elected and only by reelecting the man that brought it to you in the first place and has failed to end it by uniting the country (or even trying) can you stop our present from becoming our future. When taken literally, it is a message that says the world I brought you is the world my opponent will bring you and the only way you can stop that from happening is by keeping the guy who brought it to you! If that doesn't make sense, congratulations, you're not an imbecile.

However, if you buy the narrative that the radical left has taken over the Democratic Party then I'm sorry to report that such may not be the case. Biden-Harris is literally the most Law & Order ticket I can imagine either party fielding. It’s the guy who brought us the Crime Bill, supported the private prison industrial complex and paved a smooth road for Clarence Thomas paired with the AG who wanted to jail young single mothers whose kids missed too much school, blocked access to DNA evidence of the wrongfully convicted, supported marijuana criminalization and pretty much accumulated the least progressive record any prosecutor could ever hope for. 

So no, Harris's pick wasn't to appease the progressive left. It was a middle finger to them, just like the initial convention lineup which didn't even feature AOC or Andrew Yang, the two stars of that set. Meanwhile, NeoCon warmonger John “life starts at the first heartbeat” Kasich is in primetime, along with Jeb Bush acolyte Anna Navarro. AOC finally got space for a 60-second pre-recorded (read vetted) afternoon spot, and the Yang Gang was able to kick and scream until their candidate was given a low-billing slot as well. In other words, if you don’t see that the progressive left is not only not running the show at the DNC but is all but powerless in the party’s politics, you’re simply not paying attention.

Why are NeoLiberals more interested in Bush-era Republicans than the media rock stars on the left who seemingly hold the future votes of the party in their hands? Simple, there's less of a difference in platforms, which means unlike working with the left, they don't really have to give anything up to court NeoCons. That’s because the age of Trump has seen those Republicans give up on social issues they never actually cared that much about from gay marriage to abortion in exchange for a seat at the table on the issues they do—things like energy policy, deregulation, aggressive foreign policy and, above all, jockeying their snoots into the trough of money that the winning team gets to eat from.

Excited because a Black Lives Matter protester is going to Congress? Slow down, Ace, as the hallowed halls are also about to get their first QAnon member. We've reached peak lunacy under Trump, this much is true, but the wheel has spun back to same old song and dance, remixed for 2020. The American empire is falling apart and one side is offering four more years of the lunatic king, while the other is betting that such a thought will scare voters enough to accept the same brand of politics that brought us that President in the first place. All that remains to be seen in whether Dems finally got the calculus correct. Are progressives so infuriated by life under Trump that they'll vote blue no matter who, or have they picked off enough white suburban Republican women for it not to even matter? We'll find out, though likely not until weeks after November 2, assuming we aren't fighting each other in the streets by then.

Dennis “Mitch” Maley has been a journalist for more than two decades. A former Army Captain, he has a degree in government from Shippensburg University and is the author of several books, which can be found here. 

[meat-husband]

You know you gotta elaborate on that dick pic hc right like pls don’t tease me like that 🅱️ls

Well, since you said 🅱️ls...

Nothing too graphic, so no cut, but there’s still dicks going on lol

You felt like a piece of shit.

Your best friend, a kind, amazing girl you had known since you were a child, had done a lot for you over the years. She was only concerned, you knew, and you couldn’t blame her, but she had gone through a lot of trouble for you and you couldn’t even appreciate her efforts fully.

Standing awkwardly in the corner of the crowded room, you fiddled with the hem of the skirt you wore, tugging it down self consciously. It wasn’t all that short, really, but it felt like it. A Halloween party was the last place you wanted to be right now, let alone in a cheap, plasticy outfit hilariously labeled ‘sexy psycho’. It was a poor excuse for a costume, an uncomfortably tight skirt and half sized button up in bright orange, complete with fake bloodstains and a little rubber knife. You had dropped the knife almost immediately upon entering the party, but now you held your phone in one hand and a watered down drink in the other, texting rapidly with half an eye on the screen.

You didn’t want to be here, but you did want to be a good friend, for all that was worth, and she had insisted on your attendance, paying for your ticket herself, getting you into an exclusive party and not taking no for an answer. This whole event was agreed to under the pretense of ‘spending time together’, but it quickly became apparent that your friend was more concerned with who else you were spending your time with.

“Hey, he’s cute,” she yelled over the music, poking you in the ribs to draw your attention away from your phone. “Go talk to him, he’s looking at you.”

“Who?” You ask, still firing off a message as quickly as you can while typing with only your thumb.

“The guy in the big, feathery hat thing. Look, right there.”

“Uh-huh, gimme a second.”

“Who are you texting?” She sounded a little pissed, which wasn’t unreasonable considering the price she had paid to get your unsocial ass in here. She leans over your shoulder, trying to get a look at your screen, so you quickly turn it off, tucking it down the front of your ridiculously orange top.

“No one,” you say with a strained smile. “Now what hat did you want me to see?”

She frowns at you, eyeing the place where you hid your phone suspiciously. “You’re acting weird. You said you aren’t dating anyone, I thought you’d appreciate a night out. I mean, it’s been a while.” She gives you another rough nudge and a wink and you laugh nervously in response.

There wasn’t a good way to tell someone who cared about you that you had pretty much moved a serial killer into your apartment and weren’t really on the market anymore. That kind of thing tends to create worry and questions, neither of which you need anymore of.

Your phone buzzes loudly from beneath your shirt and she watches you for a moment, daring you with a glare to respond. You fidget in place, wanting to reach for it but you can’t have her seeing what’s on the screen either. You already know what the message contains, and that would probably be just as hard to explain as anything else she’s wondering about you right now.

“Alright, I’m going to get another drink and check in to see if that shitty emo band is through yet, then you’re going to enjoy this damn party if I have to make you. Get all that texting shit out of your system while I’m gone.”

You wait until you see her disappear into the crowd before finally digging your phone out of your bra, unlocking the screen to open your messages.

Yep, just like you thought.

Fuck off or that shits going on the internet, you type, message popping up under a horribly composed dick pic. Obviously he was taking these one handed, but that was no excuse for poor quality. Two more blurry pictures pop up before you can type anything else and you roll your eyes. You regretted making the joke that had started this trend of his, knowing you brought it on yourself by introducing him to it.

It’s Halloween shouldn’t you be off murdering ppl or something

You tuck your phone away again after that, taking a few sips from your drink and trying to stop a grin from spreading over your face when it buzzed rapidly with multiple new messages. It was really hilarious how easy it was to get under his skin sometimes. There were quite a few awful costumes imitating the dreaded ‘Shape’ walking around the party, and you had been quick to snap a photo of the worst one you could find.

Found a new boyfriend lol, was all you had said, along with the snap of the person wearing the misshapen mask. It was amazingly low quality, all cheap rubber and crazy, unstyled hair that was entirely the wrong color, but apparently it was still enough to set him off.

You see no sign of your friend returning yet, so you sneak another look at your phone when you realize it’s been a few minutes since the last one. Half a dozen more pictures, each looking more and more frantic and desperate, greet you once you click on your messages, but it’s the most recent one that catches your eye.

“Oh great,” you mutter under your breath, finger hovering over the screen. “He’s figured out how to take videos.”

Glancing around you can see that you’re nice and alone in your corner, but you bite your lip nervously. You can’t say you don’t want to see the video, because you can feel your stomach clenching at the thought of it, but it’s one thing to sneak peeks at pictures and another to play a video. You wait a bit, but decide that you can’t just not watch it. Another look around confirms you’re as alone as you can be with this many people in a room, so you hurry to slide down the volume, just in case, and press play.

You were right when you guessed the previous pictures looked desperate, watching him buck hurriedly into the tight grip of his hand, cock swollen and pink. His movements quickly turn jerky and rough, and you desperately want to inch up the volume to see if you can hear any groans or hisses as cum spills over his fingers. The video is only a few seconds long, just enough to make you frustrated when it ends, and you huff to yourself. This was supposed to be annoying for him, not you.

“Woah, who’s dick is that?” You turn with a scream, drowned out by the music, nearly dropping your phone.

“No wonder you were so interested in your phone, you freak.” Her tone is teasing and friendly, almost congratulatory, a big grin on her face, but you feel your face turn hot and red under her gaze.

“You weren’t supposed to see that!”

“Well, no duh, or they’d be sending that shit to me. Feel free to pass that dude my number, though.”

You don’t think you can be any more embarrassed, but your wish is granted almost immediately when your phone dings again. You lock eyes with your friend, seeing her grin widen, and you go to put your phone away before she can ask.

“Aw, c’mon, let’s see how the movie ends,” she laughs, tugging at the sleeve of your shirt playfully. “I gotta know what happens!”

“You’re so embarrassing!” You complain, pulling away.

“No, really, I wanna see round two!”

“Oh my god! You’re shameless!”

“Hey, I ain’t the one getting hit up with homemade porn here!”

Your phone buzzes again, drawing another laugh from your friend, who seems to be genuinely delighted by how embarrassed you are.

“Go on and look, I ain’t judging you. Tell him to knock it off though, I paid good money for your ticket so you’re getting drunk tonight if nothing else!”

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” You murmur, slinking off with your friend giving you a knowing grin and wink as you rush towards the nearest door.

It’s not a bathroom, just the entrance to a small hallway meant for staff members, but you’ll take what you can get right now. You sit your unfinished drink on the floor, sure that your weak nerves don’t need anymore alcohol after that. Your face is uncomfortably hot and you can feel sweat running down your back as you lean against the wall, grasping your phone in one hand but not yet looking at the screen.

Okay, things were a little out of hand here, and now you had to explain away the person sending you graphic videos and dick pics to your best friend, but it was salvageable. You could fix it! Getting naughty texts from someone doesn’t mean you’re expected to introduce them to your family or anything, you can play it off as a one time thing. No one needs to know about the serial killer in your apartment.

With a few calming breaths you finally open your phone. You feel better now, realizing how insignificant the slip up was, but that comes crashing down as you see the three new photos you’ve been sent, each one a blurry and poorly lit shot of you from just moments before, taken from a distance and slowly moving closer. Well, okay, this was honestly something you should have seen coming considering the fact that he’s snuck up on you like this before, but never somewhere so crowded or public.

And what if he killed someone? It was Halloween after all, and that was his whole thing, and while you were a little less concerned for random club goers, your best friend was out there, not knowing any of this. You went back into the packed club in a rush, swinging open the door and running straight into a solid chest.

“Oh, hi.”

Michael looks down at you from behind the mask and you just know you look flustered and guilty. You glance around nervously, concerned that he might draw attention, but he isn’t very out of place at a costume party, much less one where there are multiple other ‘Michaels’ running around.

“So, uh, just so you know, the whole murdering thing is off limits right now,” you hiss, grabbing a handful of his sleeve and pulling him behind you, heading away from where you had last seen your friend. “Nothing personal, but I just can’t have that shit happening right now.”

You find a secluded spot by the actual entrance to the bathrooms, ushering him into the bit of cover provided by a merchandise stand that had yet to be filled out.

“What are you doing in here?” You whisper, far enough away from the music that it won’t cover your voice. “Those tickets are pricey, how did you get in?”

He looks down and you follow his gaze to the very real and very bloody knife in his hands. You yelp, grabbing his wrist and pulling it between the two of you to hide the weapon.

“You can’t have that in here! And no more stabbing,” you stop, and reconsider your words. “Or anything else fatal.” You amend, giving him a firm glare that you’re sure won’t stop him at all if that’s what he wants to do.

“Yo, am I interrupting you guys? Cause I kinda hope I am!”

You look around Michael with wide eyes to see your friend standing there, a big smirk on her face and a drink in each hand. You realize with a pang of horror how things must look from her view point, a big man standing over you in a dark corner, your hands hidden between your bodies-

“No, you’re not interrupting!” You nearly scream the words in your panic, wrenching the knife from Michael’s hand and dropping it carefully behind the merch table. He lets you take the weapon, turning as you do to face your friend, who’s smile widens at the sight of his ‘costume’.

“Holy shit, great get up dude, that’s the best mask I’ve seen all night!” She looks him up and down, presumably to take in the rest of his attire, but you know her well enough to realize she’s probably gearing up a flirty one liner. “So, you two know each other then?”

You’re a little thrown off, not sure what excuse you can come up with on the spot for her question, but Michael beats you to it.

“Boyfriend.” He rasps, and you’re not sure whether his voice or his answer throws you off more. You look at him in awe, mouth open in surprise. Your friend looks stunned as well, but for a different reason.

“Ohh, really,” She says, giving you a sly look. “So is he…?”

She makes a crude pumping motion with her hand and you’re absolutely sure that if it was possible to die of embarrassment that this would be the finishing blow. Michael watches her hand, and when she looks to you both for confirmation he gives her a slow nod. She cackles loudly, clapping her hands together in glee.

“Oh, why didn’t you tell me you were dating someone?! He’s hilarious, too!” She passes one of her drinks to you to free up a hand, waving it around in her excitement. “Where have you been hiding him, girl? What’s your name?”

The last one is directed at Michael, and you give him a moment to see if he’ll speak again, but apparently that was a one time deal because he remains silent. You speak up before the silence turns awkward, an evil little smile on your face.

Grabbing his wrist with your hand, you lean against his arm and answer, “His name’s Audrey.”

[comingupforblair]

If you want to know why DCEU fans have a hard time listening to criticism of the films and don’t seem interested in engaging with it, there are a few reasons for that but probably the biggest one is pretty simple.

It’s because most of the criticism doesn’t serve a purpose and isn’t worth listening to.

Easily the most common claim I see from people beating up on these films is that they are in fact DC fans. They may even say they love DC more than Marvel and their criticism, which often crosses over into outright vitriol, is an expression of that love, a desire to see them do better whatever that looks like to them (their better version of these films and what they expected from them are usually not even closer to reasonable but that’s another post). They snark because they care.

Even leaving aside the flaws in that kind of mentality, I think we can agree that it isn’t true for everyone who insults and criticizes these films. 

They aren’t looking for them to improve or to reach some idealized version of how they can be. They’re just eager to score points by taking petty shots at what is seen as an acceptable target. Maybe they’re Marvel fans with a tribalist mentality or they’re trying to piss off DC fans or they’re just people who are under the impression that saying this is somehow original but their words are not said because of a desire for the creators to get better. They have no interest whatsoever in seeing the franchise improve.

Even when the films that are made exactly to their specifications such as Wonder Woman, Aquaman and Shazam are regarded only with backhanded praise and aren’t seen as enough for them to reevaluate their views on the franchise because they don’t actually want to. Doing that would mean relinquishing an easy target.

Even if Birds of Prey and Wonder Woman 1984 are regarded as some of the finest accomplishments in cinema history, it won’t get people to stop making the same idiotic jokes or repeating the same criticisms we’ve heard a thousand times already. They’ll still be doing it five or ten years from now.

This isn’t even speculation as The Dark Knight was released only eleven years ago and is often held up as one of the best films of the 21st century, a film a lot of people will happily list as one of their favorites and yet it’s still common to see people say that DC/WB should just pack it all in and stick to animation and maybe live-action TV and leave films to Marvel.

Or look at how Wonder Woman was a legitimately remarkable accomplishment, a crucial turning point for the genre that broke through the barriers the MCU had shown little interest in trying to tear down, and still wasn’t enough. It was regarded and still is as an exception, a glitch in the matrix rather than proof that the same approach they had been so vocal about hating could yield results every bit as impressive as those from the MCU.

Or how Aquaman accomplished a level of success something no one could have expected but people are still eager to talk about how the franchise has been a failure even as they put out films that are among some of the highest grossing in history.

Or how the films have all become much lighter tonally and that isn’t enough for them to cease with the endless comments about the films being “grimdark” or complaining about Zack Snyder’s work with the franchise.

The DCEU has hit it’s stride and become what people have wanted it to become and we’re still seeing videos along the lines of “ten problems no one wants to admit about the DCEU” and the same insulting remarks or claims that the franchise has “failed”. So you can understand the frustration DCEU fans are feeling.

Even when the films do something admirable such as giving comic book writers fair compensation for the characters used, something the MCU has noticeably not even tried to do, people still feel a need to pair with an insult or snide comment rather than offer genuine praise for doing something the executives they prefer should be doing but aren’t.

I even saw people say they were upset about WW’s success because they were enjoying seeing DC films “fail”. That should tell you everything you need to know about a good portion of the people offering up their views on these films.

At a certain level, you have to choose which is more important to you: Criticizing these films and the creators behind them in an honest, sincere way or just using them as cheap fodder for jokes and a punching bag to score points off of. A lot of people have chosen the latter.

I remember once seeing a critic I like say how it’s easy to be vicious when you assume the people you’re talking about will never read your words about them. I honestly have to ask what purpose your words are supposed to serve if not for creators to take on board so they can get better.

Criticism and negativity that doesn’t serve a purpose is nothing but petty cruelty. It’s people making cheap insults in a frankly sad attempt to make themselves look clever. It isn’t made with the intention of seeing the films get better or for creators to take on board. It’s just kicking something while it’s already down, usually in an overtly and needlessly personal manner. 

Not every person is like this, of course. Many, I’d even say the majority, do sincerely want the films to improve on elements they dislike, even if their methods and expectations for how that is supposed to happen are questionable, and there are people who will give sincere and unambiguous praise where it’s due. But the unfortunate thing is that you always have a vocal minority who are making that kind of discourse harder for everyone else, the ones who just want to hate something or to jump on a bandwagon or have an outlet for their shitty impulses.

This also isn’t unique to these films. It was the same with the Star Wars prequels and that’s a major reason why they are now getting a reevaluation.

You might think this is unfair but remember how people who hate the films are often keen to bring up DCEU fans who say and do shit. They have no problem with the minority coloring the majority’s image when it applies to people they don’t agree with.

There’s also a secondary element to this as people writing these reviews or making these videos are often doing it for an audience. If they’re not making their reviews as videos on Youtube, they’re trying to get clicks on their articles or retweets or reblogs or just approval from other commenters. Criticism that’s designed as much, if not more so, with appealing to an audience in mind as it is supposed to be a reflection of the writer’s intent is almost impossible to take seriously as you can’t distinguish between what the reviewer genuinely believes is an issue with the film and what they’re playing up for the audience as shown by channels like Cinema Sins who are unable to decide wheter their videos are serious or not and who are obligated to always make negative comments, even about things they actually like.

Videos and articles going into detail about how Zack Snyder is the worst are going to get views, regardless of their merit. Even simple accuracy in describing the films is seen as unimportant compared to whatever comedy or fan outrage they can get out of the inaccurate version as evidenced by how often they describe DCEU Superman in ways that show they’re trying to play up or outright invent negative traits of his. Hyperbole gets people’s attention.

People are probably reading this and rolling their eyes, assuming that I want some world where no one says anything critical or negative about anything ever. But what I’m saying is really quite simple and something more people need to do. When you encounter criticism, wheter it’s of something you love or hate, you need to ask what purpose is it serving? 

If you’re someone who is negative towards the franchise and expresses those views, be it in a personal or professional manner, what’s your endgame? What do you want to be the end result of your words and actions? What are you going to do if/when that happens? Are you going to change your behavior to suit the new circumstances and be as open with praise as you are criticism? Or are you just going to shift the goal posts?

If criticism and negativity about something doesn’t or isn’t trying to fulfill a more important purpose than just doing the internet equivalent of pulling the wings off a fly or unleashing rage on something or getting clicks, then it isn’t worth taking seriously or listening to and that’s exactly what a lot of negativity towards the DCEU is.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Clover and Lace, Chapter 18

This is it, ladies, gents and everything in between and outside- The last chapter. Well, we do have a epilogue written up for next week. But that’s beside the point. Chapter 18 is here. Thanks to @winterisakiller who has talked me down from angst and groaned at my attempts to make this even more angsty over the chapters. Believe it or not- she sometimes keeps me in check. After killing a OC I probably needed it.

Oh! At the end of the epilogue next week you’ll find the summary for my next mini project- Rain. A two part Tom Hiddles x ofc angst fest. 

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

Steve urged Rosemary on, keeping himself and the shield on his back between her and the men chasing them. Branches crunched under his boots. Each snap of a twig made me cringe, knowing her feet had been without shoes while she had ran. Gunfire bounced off the shield as he pushed it up higher on his back, protecting his head.

“Left.” He urged as the small path branched in two even smaller paths.

As she disappeared around the bend he turned while somehow not tripping over his own feet while snagging his shield off his back and with a strong flick of his arm, he sent it flying. It took out the two men closest to him and was left lodged in the ground. Steve made quick work of running forward, he snagged the shield up and took off down the path, turning right where he had told Rose to go left. He knew they saw him and that’s all he needed.

He ran a short distance down the trail before launching himself through a break in the trees. Following a small rabbit trail, he tried to move as quickly and silently through the forest as he could. If all went according to plan he would have thrown the guards off their trail and would meet up with Rose shortly.

When he burst threw the tree in front of Rose, she nearly screamed. Without the threat of being shot from behind, Steve allowed them a short moment for Rosemary to catch her breath. She was gulping air and her legs felt like rubber. Blood mixed with dirt from the cuts on her foot. She was in no condition to keep running, that was clear to Steve though she didn’t so much as even complain.

“Get on.” Steve took his shield off his back and knelt down in front of her, offering her his back.

“You don’t have to carry me.” She protested even as he felt her hands settle on his shoulders.

“You’re tired, dehydrated and weak. We’ll cover ground faster.” Rosemary knew he was right even though she didn’t want to admit it.

Surviving was far more important than her pride. She didn’t protest. Instead she stepped closer to his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. His arms reached back behind him, strong hands wrapping around her thighs. As he stood, he pulled her legs up and around his waist. Stepping on the edge of his shield, he let go of one of her legs and grabbed it.

“There’s a strap right here.” Steve took one of her hands from him and wrapped her fingers around the strap. “Hold it behind you, over your back. It’s big enough to cover most of you but if anyone starts shooting at us cover your head.”

“What about you?” She whispered.

“You’ll be protecting me with it too. And if I’m hit it won’t do as much damage to me. I’ve got gear, you don’t.”

“Okay.” The sound of her voice cut through him like a knife. It was thin and brittle, giving away the fear and pain. When he looked at her, as they had ran together up until this point she seemed largely fearless. She was strong. She was fearless, it had seemed. But the simple truth was that she was afraid. He could hear it in her voice.

Steve started moving and with her held securely to his back, he ran. She was amazed at how damn fast he could run. It was beyond true that she had been holding them back, that much was clear as day. Her ride on his back was smooth in a way that made no sense to her. It was as if he was designed to run, born for it. As they made their way through the dense forest, she watched as the sky grew darker and darker. Clouds were moving in front of the moon.

She rested her head down against his shoulder as her body relaxed. He ran with her on his back for what felt like hours before the forest grew thinner and they came upon a village. Few buildings were modern but Rosemary perked up, looking for any sign of a building that would likely hold modern technology.

“There.” She pointed over his shoulder at a building. It was one of the only buildings with glass in the windows. Structurally it was more sound than many of the other buildings.

“Why there?” Steve asked but still made a direct path toward the building.

Rosemary slipped off his back as they looked around. There was no sign of the guards chasing them at the moment at least. Still, that was not likely to last long at all. The sooner they were out of sight the better. She was fairly sure that Mary would care more about catching and killing her than taking out any of the Avengers.

“The door’s locked.” Steve stated when the handle didn’t turn under his hand.

Rosemary kicked at the ground a few times. She hoped for wire but found nothing but twigs and dirt. With a sigh, she eyed the knife at his side as he pulled it out. He positioned it in the doorjamb with the intention of breaking in.

“Give that here.” She reached for the blade only to have Steve move it from her.

“Don’t grab at a knife like that. That’s a great way to get cut.” Her eyes were wide at his stern words and he quickly softened them with a small smile. The blade flipped in his hand and he presented it to her hilt first.

“Sorry.” She mumbled. This wasn’t the type of thing she was used to. Running through the woods, running for her life- that wasn’t her life. Sneaking into locked rooms however? She was out of practice but still, it was something she had been good at. At least, she had been at one point.

Nudging the tip of the blade into the old lock she prayed that it was both old and cheap. The blade was thicker and wider at the tip then she would have liked but with some luck…

She forced it to the side and she could just hear the metal inside the lock snap. It wasn’t enough however and the door remained locked.

“Just twist it?” Steve asked as he wrapped his hands around hers over the hilt.

“Yeah. The idea is to force it. Assuming it’s cheap enough, it will give without looking broken without looking like it.” Rosemary slipped her hands out from under his.

With a firm grip he twisted and she could hear the internal mechanisms in the lock break apart. A twist of the knob and a push against the door had it opened with minimal visual damage left behind. Rosemary slipped in to the room with Steve right behind her. The door was closed tightly behind them and he pushed a file cabinet in front of it. The windows didn’t have coverings and what little light was available outside spilled into the room. Rosemary reached for the lights but Steve grabbed her hand in his.

“No.” His voice was firm but low. “We don’t want to make it obvious where we are.”

“Right, Okay. We’ve got to find a phone.”

“Even if we did- I’m not sure how much good it would do us.” Still, Steve moved around the space, looking for a phone.

“It would do us all the good in the world.” Rosemary absently commented as she looked as well, finally feeling her feet under her.

“Over here is a headset. Looks like the computer is wired into the internet. Why don’t they have any regular phones?”

“Good.” Rosemary ducked down when a light passed by the window. “Get the monitor on the ground and turned on if you can.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. “And because Internet phones are typically more reliable in remote areas.”

Couching behind a desk with the screen shoved under, Rose quickly turned the brightness of the monitor as far down as it would go. Without a thought to Steve’s presence next to her, she reached into her bra and pulled out the drive he had spotted on her desk seemingly a lifetime ago.

“I didn’t expect you to have that, to be honest.”

“Always expect the unexpected.” Rosemary plugged it in and Steve watched over her shoulder as a black rabbit came to life on the screen. A black text box appeared with a string of text in a language Steve wasn’t familiar with. It didn’t phase Rosemary in the slightest however and she quickly typed in commands. “I need to make a call.”

“A call?” The look she gave him reminded him that there was so much more to her than he was aware of. “Right, okay.”

While he was busy moving the computer and making sure the cords wouldn’t be unplugged, Rosemary pulled up a map. He set the headset next to her and for a moment they sat still and silent as someone ran by the door.

“You should go help the others.” Rosemary whispered as she set up the headset.

“I’m not leaving you until you’re safe.” It surprised him when Rosemary rolled her eyes. Truthfully, it hurt to be brushed off like that. Reaching out, he grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him. Now wasn’t the time, he knew that. Yet it couldn’t wait any longer. “I could have lost you. You could have died.”

“Does that matter? Really? I’m not who I told you I was.” Rosemary snapped, voice growing a bit louder before she quickly schooled it. “We’ll get out of here and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“I don’t want you out of my hair.” Steve gave her shoulders a sharp shake when she tried to look away. “I didn’t come here to stop them. I didn’t come to fight them. I don’t give a damn about them right now. I came to find you and bring you home.”

“I-”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t lie or betray me. You saved our lives with that warning. My life.”

It was awkward and slightly clumsy when he pulled her toward him, gathering her in his chest. Everything she touched was firm and rigid. The suit seemed to make him all the more intimidating, cloaking the soft of his skin with rough fabrics and hard plates. When his fingers rested under her chin, drawing her face up to look at him she couldn’t feel much of the warmth of his hand through his glove yet she could remember it.

Leaning down, he kissed her before she could even comprehend what he was doing. His face was scruffy and unshaven but it felt good. It felt real and while she knew it wasn’t the time for this, she melted into him. Tears welled in her eyes as her arms slowly braved wrapping around his neck.

She didn’t know up from down in that moment, she didn’t know if he had turned her information over to Shield. What she did know was far more important than that. He truly cared for her. Regardless of what he may have done, he cared. And she loved him. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she crumbled apart in his arms. Just half a day before she had come to terms with the fact that she would likely die without ever seeing him again and now she was wrapped in his arms.

She could afford to fall apart for a moment, cry into his neck when their lips pulled apart. Strong arms held her firmly in place, fingers digging lightly into her sides as if he feared she would slip away into the night. With a shuddering breath, she pulled herself together and pulled away, wiping the tears from her face. It wouldn’t do for the Lady Spider to be seen showing such weakness.

“We should focus on getting you out of here.” With such a simple statement from Steve, their moment was ended. Rosemary still was unsure as to what the future will hold for her but at least she had some sort of hope that made it that much easier to focus on the task at hand.

With the headset on, she listened as the line filled with static before connecting. A video feed opened up curtesy of Rabbit and she scoffed. A webcam in a government building- how trusting. Clearly their security needed work and for that, she was thankful for it.

“Yo!” She waited and a man in the distance looked around on the video feed.

Good, the computer she gained access to had a speaker as well. The man looked around before coming closer to the computer when she called for him again. In Spanish, she requested General Mass. His name was one she had always found amusing and he was as close to a friend she had.

“You’re sure you can trust them?” Steve asked, drawing her attention to him.

“Of course. I wouldn’t call someone I didn’t trust.” She didn’t point out that calling it ‘trust’ was probably a bit of a stretch. If she wanted, she could end Mass’s career by revealing the things she had done for him to his own government though to do so would make her terribly sad.

“Little Spider- Good to know you still live. However I’ve not got need of you.”

“How do you know you can trust him?” Steve spoke over the man on the screen.

“And with Captain America no less. That is surprising. What brings you into his company I wonder?”

“Not your problem, Mass. You owe a debt, I’ve called to collect.”

In an instant, the man on the screen’s whole being shifted. The easy nature was gone. His shoulders squared and he stood just a bit straighter. “What do you need?”

“Passage out of Venezuela as of yesterday.”

“Please.” Steve added under his breath only to smile when Rosemary rolled her eyes at him. Mass eyed their interactions carefully.

“Where exactly are you?”

Rosemary allowed Steve to take over as she relaxed against the side of the desk. She was bone tired, thirsty and starving. Still, she hadn’t more than a general idea how long she had been gone for. In all honesty she’d probably be willing to kill a man for a snack bar and a bottle of water.

As they made their way out of the village, Steve’s com came to life in his ear with a flurry of static. Much of Mary’s team had been captured or eliminated. Still, the mastermind herself was running free. Rosemary tried to convince him that the immediate threat was gone but he was set not to let her out of his sight until she was back in the United States.

“How do you have connections in the Paraguan government?” Steve asked as they put more distance between them and the village. They had about 90 minutes before the helicopter would touch down to pick them up and five miles to travel until they reached the clearing. Stark was arranging for a Quinjet to collect the rest of the team once the situation on the ground was cleaned up but made it clear Steve wouldn’t be needed.

“They needed a favor. I helped them out. I needed something, they helped me out. That’s how it works.” Rosemary answered as if it was simple and Steve had to admit, with how she had put it- it was simple. Still it was clear that her answer left much to be desired.

“General Mass’s wife had cancer. The treatment she needed was- is experimental. Nothing they had tried until then worked. The government wouldn’t allow her to try it. She wasn’t stable enough to leave the country even if they could afford it.”

“So he asked you for help?” Rosemary looked to Steve with a small smile. It was rare that favors lined up that simply for her.

“No, but it was a matter of situations lining up that allowed me to offer a favor to a man who had proven himself to be worthy of trust.” It felt good to speak openly about her life for once. Rosemary wondered if this was how things could stay.

“Things just happened to line up for you to save his wife’s life? Just like that?” Steve was fascinated with her tale. Hearing from the team what she had done for a living, he honestly hadn’t expected to hear about her doing good with it.

He thought back to the words Mrs. Jones had said only a few days prior. She had advised him to not shut Rose out just because of what she did to make her way in the world. There was more to the story of Rose Ramsey than he knew, so much more. But perhaps it was as she said, things were not strictly black and white. Since coming out of the ice, Steve’s world seemed to be colored with many more shades of gray.

“The company with the treatment- they needed a loan to make it through the FDA pre-approval processes. I gave them the money in exchange for them sending the treatment.”

“How’d you get it into the country?” Steve was engrossed in the story, often having to remind himself to take his attention from Rose to check their surroundings. It reminded him of old spy novels.

“One of the boarder agents- they don’t get paid a lot but his daughter was wanting to be a doctor. I gave them a trust fund. His partner however was harder to buy- he wanted a promotion. I don’t normally like to get involved in lower level power plays. But it was easy enough to bribe his commander to move him up a rank. They looked the other way while the treatment was brought in.” Steve opened his mouth but she kept talking, answering his questions before he could ask them.

“The doctor was easier- to be honest. He was a well known doctor, one of the best in the country and wanted to know if his wife was having an affair. That information I had already had in my pocket for a few months. Her Lover traded it wanting to know if she was really planning on leaving her husband for him.”

“And just like that, you saved General Mass’s wife?”

“Just like that.” Rosemary shrugged. “I keep doctor’s in my pocket most everywhere- they are useful. Sometimes more so than government officials. After this- Mass will no longer owe me and when it comes to him I’ll have to rely on good will if I need his assistance again before he needs mine.”                                                                                                                                            

They made good time reaching the clearing. In some ways it felt almost like any other night walk for Rosemary. That idea was shattered whenever she looked at Steve and saw him not wearing a simple pair of jeans, button down or tee shirt. Just hearing his laugh, his voice and feeling him near had set her at ease.

She would glance back at him and for a moment she could see the hard look on his face until he noticed her eyes were on him. Every time he noticed her looking the stone would melt from his face and the warmth that was the Steve she had known would surface. Rosemary wondered which Steve was the real one?

Perhaps he wondered the same of her. She knew that it surprised him, shocked him when she took control in the office. It was written on his face as she directed him to help her get what she needed. It wasn’t the way he had seen her before. It honestly wasn’t a way she liked to act.

“You don’t have to hide it from me.” Steve captured her hand in his when she spoke, not looking back at him.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“You’re worried.”

“I didn’t want to worry you. But yeah- Mary is still on the run and until she’s captured you’ll still be her target.” Rosemary nodded and silence gathered around them for a moment.

“Steve?” She whispered. “What’s going to happen to me? To Julian? We’ve got arrest warrants, plenty of people who would wish to see us in jail or dead for the things we’ve done.”

“I won’t let that happen.” She turned to look at him, tears were in her eyes. For the first time, Rosemary actually looked truly scared. He had seen fear in her back in the office but most of what he had noticed was her relief at being safe, at having him with her at the time. Steve worked his hands out of his gloves and tucked them into his belt.

“I can’t ask you to protect us. To protect me.” He stepped up toward her and it was so mind boggling, he looked so much like her Steve.

“But I will. Because I love you.” It was the first time he had truly said it to her since she had slammed the door in his face in what felt like a whole different life. He meant it now as much as he did the morning of that fateful day.

His hands settled on her arms and he pulled her toward him as the helicopter approached in the distance. Steve kept talking, not pressuring her to say the words back, unsure if she was ready to believe him again. He hadn’t intended to even tell her the truth of the depth of his feelings for her yet. The simple words though having been said before seemed to hold so much more weight now, with no secretes hiding in closets. How could the same three words mean so much more now? He thought he meant it then but now he felt it so much more. He’d almost lost her.

“A lot of the team has had warrants out for them at some point. Hell, I was a fugitive for a bit myself.” She sniffled and shifted in his arms, wiping tears away. “You can have a clean start. You can have it if you want it.”

“And if I don’t? I lose you?” The words were mumbled into his chest as she snaked her arms around his back. An ultimatum was one of the things she feared when it came to letting him know her secrets.

“No. No matter what you decide- we try this out if its what you still want.”

“How would that even work?” As he nuzzled into the top of her head, she could feel his warm breath.

“We’d figure something out.”

“I don’t want to turn my back on what I am. Who I am. But I don’t want to go, to have keep running.”

“We’ll talk to Fury. We’ll figure something out. If that’s what you want. I still want this. You. Us.”

Steve held her tightly to him in the clearing as a helicopter descend. The sound filled their ears and made talk impossible. Around them dust, leafs and grass was picked up by the wind and danced through the air. There was noise and shouting and Rosemary recognized it as belonging to General Mass.

Steve bent down and swept her off her admittedly tired feet and walked as if it was nothing toward the open door of the helicopter. When Rosemary protested that she could walk, he nodded and agreed yet did not put her down. He was ruining her reputation and though she told him so, he didn’t seem to give a damn.  

“I don’t want to let go of you yet.” Steve Admitted as he settled into a ridged bench.

“Nice to have a face to the voice.” Mass commented as if he hadn’t seem one of the largest information dealers wrapped up in the arms of the American hero before turning to the pilot. “Let’s get her out of here.”

“Steve?” Rosemary whispered. Her voice would have been lost to anyone else in the helicopter.

“Yes, Rose?” Strong arms tightened around her as she took a deep breath.

“My name is Rosemary Ramsey and I love you.”

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

@0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @dangertoozmanykids101, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @princess76179, @fairlightswiftly, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @michelegurl