#FOR LEGAL REASONS I NEED TO SAY THIS IS A JOKE AND A FAKE EMAIL

[wenkicai]

omg guys scout's ma's canon name has been REVEALED???? and she's nicknamed JOJO???

[livwritesstuff]

I've had a consistent thought in my head of the girls learning more about the upside down.

Like they know a bit: uncle Dustin still lives in Hawkins doing research on something, they've seen their dads and they know about the scars and their disabilities. They know something happened to their entire family and they know there was an earthquake that wasn't really an earthquake. But they've never learned more than that and they'll never know the details as long as Steve and Eddie have a say.

But at some point, each of them realizes that the monster hunter jokes that their dads make aren't really jokes.

In general, I think Steve and Eddie’s sentiment surrounding how they address the not-so-pleasant aspects of their past with their daughters is that they won’t lie (because that’ll only come back to bite them in the ass later), but they’re also only going to tell them as much of the truth as they literally need to.

Not that Moe knows any of this.

All Moe really knows is that her dads went through some scary-ass shit when they were her age and they don’t really talk about it.

Still, Moe has eyes. Maybe she didn’t realize it when she was little, but even just the sheer amount of scar tissue her dads have isn’t exactly normal. When she asks where they got them, though, all they ever say is that a monster tried to eat them.

Moe also knows that the reason Pop doesn’t usually join them on shopping trips at the mall is because they can trigger bad migraines, and she knows the reason he gets migraines in the first place is that he’d taken too many hits to the head in too short a time, but when she asks how he’d gotten a concussion and then a TBI and then two more concussions in the span of four years he always just says something like picked a fight with the wrong Russian spy, or something like that.

And it’s public knowledge that Dad was accused of murder when he was in high school and nearly died before the charges got dropped, but when she asks about what happened, he gives her some spiel about curses and demons and portals to alternate dimensions and monsters (again, with the monsters).

They’re kidding, Moe knows. They’re giving obviously fake answers because…well, for a lot of reasons, she can imagine– not wanting to relive whatever actually happened, not wanting to put their own trauma onto Moe and her sisters.

Honestly, Moe doesn’t really even bother asking about it anymore because they clearly don’t want to talk about it, and if it really was that bad, she can’t even blame them. Besides, she’s pretty sure that dads are supposed to be total mysteries to their kids, so…whatever.

The story of what happened in Hawkins, Indiana starts to gain some public attention again while Moe is in high school – one of those true crime conspiracy theory-type stories people make Reddit threads and YouTube videos about, and apparently (because Moe has no interest, but Robbie likes that kind of stuff) Dad almost always comes up in them, Pop sometimes.

Around that time is when Moe’s dads start to get all kinds of media requests – not that Pop had any idea. He’s basically chronically offline, so no one is really able to track him down other than finding his work email on Psychology Today, but he’s got filters set up to send that shit to spam so he doesn’t even have to see it. Dad, on the other hand, is (supposedly) well-known for his books or whatever, so he doesn’t have the same kind of anonymity. He got all sorts of calls and emails from people wanting his first-hand account, but he always refused to participate, told them to lose his number and never contact him or his family ever again.

That’s the kind of thing that really rattled Pop – Moe didn’t like that. He’s kind of an immovable object in that way, so seeing him rattled just seemed wrong.

They’d even needed to threaten legal action against one online tabloid who just wouldn’t leave them alone – not that Moe is supposed to know about that, but she’d eavesdropped on a phone call between her dads and Uncle Dustin, who seems to exist as a central point in it all even if Moe doesn’t know why (maybe it has something to do with how her dads always complaining about how he still works for that lab, whatever that means).

“Are you ever gonna tell us what really happened?” Moe asks one day, when it’s just her and Pop in the car on their way home from a basketball tournament in Connecticut.

He sighed, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Hon, can I ask you to stop and consider that maybe we have been?”

And for her dad’s sake, she does, she makes herself run through the mental log of all the lore or whatever she’s unlocked over the years.

Monsters, Russian spies, superpowers, demon-animals, curses, portals to alternate realities, government corruption, evil scientists.

Bullshit, she’d always thought, but…her dad had never bullshitted her before. Why would he choose to start with this?

Moe looked back at him, some kind of question on the tip of her tongue even though she had no idea what to ask, and this time, Pop spared a glance back.

“I’m not telling you everything,” he warned her as he looked back at the highway stretching out endlessly ahead of them, and Moe tried to keep any signs of disappointment off her face, “But I’ll tell you some.”

[emo-and-confused]

Headcannons based on @cb28 ‘s “ceo of many hotels tommy and hotel receptionist tubbo” au art (includes dysfunctional sleepy bois) (awesamdad)

-techno, wilbur, and tommy are phil’s kids

-(the three kids are adopted, techno was adopted when he was five, wilbur was adopted when he was four, and tommy was adopted when he was seven)

-techno is older than wilbur by two years and wilbur is older than tommy by eight years

-phil is this rich businessman. techno is some powerful leader. wilbur is a famous songwriter.

-then tommy owns a hotel

-he's still like 16/17 but he owns and manages it

-techno is the oldest therefore favorite and heir to whatever money and property phil owns

-tommy is least favorite. phil ignored him.

-then one day phil just gave him money and said "stop being a disappointment" so he started his hotel at 15

tommy: i’m going to build a hotel in rage

-then best friend tubbo who works there and is nice to tommy

phil: oh, theseus, my son. come, i was just telling my companions about your ho- who is that?

tommy: this is tubbo.

tubbo: hello :)

-wilbur being the normal brother and treating him like a normal person and taking him and tubbo to hang out and be kids

wilbur: tommy, let’s go get ice cream

tommy: wilbur, ive got things to do, paper work and, and shippments and-

wilbur: tommy.

tommy:

wilbur: let’s go. bring tubbo.

-tommy feels like he has to prove something to phil

-he also feels like he might be able to earn attention from him. that if he works hard enough phil will be proud of him

-wilbur’s music is what makes phil pay attention to him, but when he was a kid phil said his music was never going to be a stable source of income and actively encouraged other future job choices. this only made wilbur more focused on his music

-both tommy and wilbur feel the need to prove themselves

-tommy meets sam when starting up his hotel, and immediately gets attached

-sam is basically his guide, even after building the hotel. sam saw the child and went “yeah he needs parental guidance” and continued to stay in contact with tommy

-tommy is the one who gives sam the creeper mask. because sam is always working on construction and stuff and he's always inhaling debris and tommy likes minecraft so he gives it to him. sam adores it and wears it all the time.

-tommy totally calls him sam nook

sam: hey tommy! just building your hotel. i do need some more things for construction though... could you ship them over to me?

tommy: y'know this reminds me of a game my brother made me play over the holidays...

sam: ... uh,,,, what?

tommy: animal crossing! that's it. you're totally tom nook.

sam: alright, tommy.

-[over emails]

]Mr. Danger Careful Innit,

Could you supply more building materials?

Sincerely, Sam Nook

]Mr. Samuel Nook,

sure.

Sincerely, Tommy

-sam gets a very official hand written contract (the same one as the lore)

-he gets it and just goes with it (there’s a more real contract but tommy values his handwritten one more)

-sam signing it and tommy cheering and immediately going to text phil

sam: and... there you go! signed. :)

tommy: really??? ... YES!!! LETS GO!!! (calls phil and tells him)

-then tommy hanging up and smiling, then looking back over to sam.

tommmy: (clears his throat) um. my apologies. that was very unprofessional. thank you very much, sam.

-tubbo is the receptionist for the main hotel in the chain, (the one tommy is constantly at) but he basically becomes sort of a manager

-tommy sends him off to do multiple jobs throughout the day, and tubbo does them with only little complaint

tubbo: you know i’m not room service right?

tommy: i don’t remember asking

tubbo, already holding the room order: this isn’t my job tho-

tommy: and yet here you are, doing the job

-tommy pays him more than everyone else though, but tubbo doesn’t know that because tommy won’t let him see the usual staff paycheck

-tubbo is half a year older but his parents are constantly away on buisness trips so he is often home alone and has to take care of himself

-tommy is not good with showing his affection, the only one in his family to do so was wilbur. phil just kind of threw money at him on holidays and ignored him the rest of the time, and while techno was a lot more attentive to him, he wasn’t the best at affection either

-when tommy started making money with the hotel, (how very successful hotel chain), to show tubbo he cared he just started offering to buy him things

tommy, upon finding out tubbo likes bees: you know i could buy you a bee sanctuary if you’d like?

tubbo: tommy no-

-tubbo teaches him that money isn’t the only form of showing you care. it’s a long process

tommy: so you’re saying i shouldn’t buy sam a private engineering lab for his birthday?

tubbo: i know for a fact sam wouldn’t know how to accept such a gift and that he’d rather you close the hotel for a day and take him to play laser tag

tommy: ...okay but what if i do that and buy him a private engineering lab?

tubbo:

-the dream team are bell hoppers.

-tommy gets hate for being that young and successful

-the dream team are like “stfu i'm proud to be working for a very successful 16 yo how dare you" and go off on every rich person who says something about tommy’s age

they're still streamers. they just don't tell tommy. (tommy totally knows tho, he’s a 16 year old kid who plays minecraft and animal crossing, ofc he knows they’re video game streamers)

dream: hey tommy-

tommy: yes? is there a reason you're barging into my office?

dream: .. is that... animal crossing music? are you playing on a switch?

tommy: no!! i'm signing very important and legal documents!!! if you have nothing to say, get out!!

dream, to sapnap and george: he’s totally playing animal crossing.

-tommy makes them greet people at the doors and carry peoples bags purely because they’re famous. they don’t know this though

-they don't think tommy knows. tommy and tubbo think it’s hilarious. tommy hints it all the time that he knows but they just think he's being a kid

-quackity is on sam’s building/contracting team

-even after the hotel is built, q comes in to "check up" on the building with sam. and they "make sure nothing is going wrong with the building"

-they really just want to make sure tommy is okay under so much pressure

-wilbur totally has tubbo’s schedule and knows when tubbo’s on break, he can usually be found with tommy in tommy’s office

-wilbur will just barge in and be like “okay let’s go, you need a break”

-one time wilbur came in while sam and quackity were there

wilbur, barging in: kay, tommy, tubbo, let’s-

sam, mid lecture with tommy: you can’t keep doing this!

quackity, also scolding: you need to take a break, man.

tubbo, who noticed wilbur come in: wil! tell tommy he needs to go to bed and sleep! he hasn’t slept in twenty seven hours!

tommy, from his desk, with his head in his hands and leaning over paper work: i’m being ganged up on.

-wilbur instantly likes sam and quackity, because they care for his little brother (he totally has a rivalry with them though, he was there first, and tommy’s actual brother)

-the main hotel in the chain is sometimes used as an international meeting place for big companies and politicians

-more than once has phil or techno needed to stay for a few nights due to major meetings with powerful people

-it’s kind of awkward sometimes because tommy’s the hotel chain owner and since he’s based at the main hotel, he sometimes needs to greet the people going in for meetings

tommy: good afternoon, madam secretary

tommy: good afternoon, mister minister

tommy: good afternoon... *awkward cough* ...technoblade.

-or since he’s the ceo of a big name company, he sometimes has to attend big rich people galas that he hates

tommy: tubbo i literally hate these types of places, when can i leave, when am i allowed to to leave

tubbo, who is tommy’s plus one and moral support: dude i don’t know, i didn’t grow up rich

tommy, who grew up talking care of himself when wilbur wasn’t there: yeah well technically neither did i!

-and his father is a business man..

tommy, faking confidence and striding across the room: tubbo, i have no idea what i’m doing-

phil, from a table a few feet away, calling him over: theseus!

tommy, slowly turning around to see phil with a bunch of other rich people: fuckkkk-

-tommy makes sure everyone calls him tommy and not theseus

[in an interview]

interviewer: so theseus-

tommy: it's tommy.

interviewer: ... alright, tommy. would you like to address the rumors going around of your boyfriend?

tommy: huh??? oh, you mean tubbo? no, we're just best friends. and that's weird. i'm a minor.

interviewer: are you gay, though? we've never seen you date any women.

tommy: no, i do date women! all the time!!

-tommy being legally named "theseus watson" but calling himself "tommy innit"

-wilbur is legally “wilbur watson” but only ever goes by his stage name “wilbur soot”

-they both totally end up changing their names. legally.

-tommy saying i hate men because he just hates his father

-tommy getting scandals and controversies all the time but just by the upper class

-everyone else loves and adores him and knows he's literally just a 16 yo kid so that kind of stuff is a joke and he can say that without getting in trouble

-tommy will be in his office and tubbo will be at the front desk and sometimes tommy will just yell “TUBBOOOOO HELP MEEEEE” if his laptop crashes because Tubbo Tech

tommy: [during a meeting] oh, tubbo's clocked in for work.... TUBBOOO!

tommy: he's gonna come in here. surely. he'll go "hellœ?" surely. he'll walk in here...

tubbo: [walks in the room] hellœ?

-phil still has no idea who tubbo is

wilbur: yeah, i’m going to go check on tommy and tubbo

phil: ..the receptionist?

wilbur: ...

wilbur, internally: also your sons best friend but yeah sure, the receptionist.

-techno is lowkey fond of tubbo

-techno notices how tommy is clinging to tubbo at parties and galas all the time so he tries to get tommy to talk about him

-he likes that tubbo is there for tommy and totally resonates with the chaotic energy the two create

-sometimes when tommy can’t get tubbo in to the parties/galas, and techno is there, tommy will hang around him and steal his things

-like taking his wallet so techno will have to go back to the hotel afterwards and visit tommy

-he does it for attention. 

-tommy lives at the hotel. it’s not technically legal cause he wasn’t emancipated from his family and he’s only 16 but they’re rich so people don’t really say anything

-technically he still has a room at phil’s place, but he stays in a room at the hotel. when designing the place, he made sure to map out an area for his living space

-tubbo takes naps in his room

tubbo: i'm gonna go take a nap in the break room

quackity: there is no break room??

tubbo: yea there is. on the top floor. with the giant door.

quackity:... isn't that tommy's room???

-tubbo sometimes stays the night with tommy, when his parents have been on a business trip for over two weeks. he still goes to in-person school so he usually only stays on weekends during the school year

-tommy does online school, and forces himself to get his schoolwork for the week done over the weekend so he can focus on the hotel and other responsibilities

-he fakes having the “lmao i'm better and have more money also you don't play minecraft" mentality towards other kids and claims that’s why he does online

-it’s actually because he doesn’t have time to balance everything and he was bullied in the past so he switched to online school as soon as he started his hotel

-sometimes tubbo helps him with his classes tommy is overworked. like, in his off time. he has the passwords to tommy's computer so he just goes on it and does some of his school work

-tommy ranting to tubbo about how he hates his dad and how he said phil was gonna visit him the next day

-phil arriving and asking tubbo (because he's the receptionist) where tommy is. tubbo saying he doesn't know and that he left. even though tommy is literally in his room

-phil tries. he just doesn’t know how to parent. techno was 17 and wilbur was 15 when he adopted tommy, and he just got busy enough and forgot how to take care of a child

-tommy knows if he talks to phil, it’ll be awkward and phil will just try and buy him off (not intentionally, it’s just how business men be working, yknow)

-tommy just wants to prove himself, to both himself and phil. and hes using his hotel to do that

———————

fanart that was posted with @cb28 ‘s work

(i got permission to post this)

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

You Belong With Me

Sebastian’s stylist has been in love with him for two years, ever since she started working for him. When Mackie accidentally lets it slip to Sebastian, does he feel the same way or is she about to get her heart broken?

-

           “Well, if it isn’t Madam President!” Anthony said as you entered the trailer. You rolled your eyes. He was full of nicknames, but this was a new one.

           “Of what?” You asked, genuinely confused. You put your bag down, grabbing the new hairspray you were going to try on Sebastian that morning. You’d been his stylist for two years, and Sebastian had just now told you that he didn’t like how crunchy his hair was in certain scenes. It was just about the only thing he hadn’t shared with you. You were unusually close, and you knew that it was weird. But you weren’t going to do anything about it because you were literally just out of college and you had a feeling that Sebastian preferred women who could legally rent cars and not have to pay spring break fees at hotels.

           “The Sebastian Stan fan club!” Anthony responded, like it was absolutely obvious. His stylist, Hannah, who was also one of your best friends, laughed as she started to put on a prosthetic gash on Anthony’s arm. He was working on a scene where he’d been absolutely clobbered, so he was expected to be there an hour before Sebastian. The most you had to do for Sebastian aside from the normal makeup was the same consistent bruising you’d been using most of the season. Special effects weren’t your specialty.

           “They still have those? I guess you wouldn’t have one, though,” you shot back. Hannah giggled.

           “Hey, hey, you’re on my side!” Anthony said to Hannah. “At least I’m not in love with him.” You sighed as you started setting up the station, finding the jelly Sebastian used to put his fake arm on. The last thing you needed was for Mackie to make any more jokes about lube. A text from Sebastian lit your phone up – On the way! With your coffee!!! They had oat milk this morning! YAY!

           “I’m not in love with him,” you sighed. You were lying and everyone knew it, you included. “There’s this thing that you might not be familiar with called a friendship.”

           “Yeah, I got lots of those and I don’t cry over ‘em.” You shrugged. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t cried over it. But you cried over everything. You were a crybaby. Even Sebastian knew that. You’d cried the first time he’d gone out of his way to bring you coffee.

           “You cried over your wife’s text yesterday,” Hannah reminded him.

           “Woman, work on my arm!” Anthony demanded. She shrugged and started opening a gallon of fake blood. He dropped the conversation, at least for a few minutes, to tell a story about one of his kids. You knew that he was just joking about even telling Sebastian. He had your back. But you were determined not to let anything slip, even accidentally. Because you needed this job, and you didn’t want to have to suffer through it before quitting the best paying and most fulfilling job you ever thought you could have. And, besides, you were going to Japan on the press tour with Sebastian and you really didn’t want to give that up.

           “I brought coffee!” Sebastian said a few minutes later as the trailer door opened up. Indeed, he was holding your iced coffee with oat milk and vanilla syrup in one hand and his own in the other.

           “You’re a life-saver,” you said as you took it from him.

           “It’s the least I can do for someone who lubes up my arm every day,” he winked. Your heart skipped a beat. A jolt of electricity went through you and forced a smile onto your face. Then you realized.

           “That’s not the only thing she lubes up, I’m sure,” Mackie joked. You shot a look to him and Sebastian saw it. Sebastian just giggled like the idiot he was, and plopped down in the makeup chair.

           “You’re just jealous,” Sebastian said, “if you asked me for an iced coffee with oat milk and four pumps of vanilla syrup, dude, I would’ve brought you one.”

           “Alright, I got the new hairspray,” you interrupted, just wanting the subject to be dropped.

           “Can we wash my hair first?” Sebastian asked. You rolled your eyes. He said your small hands were the best at washing his hair, and you saw that he had indeed skipped washing it that morning. It was dry and greasy, and you needed it to be slightly wet.

           “Get over there and turn the water on,” you sighed. “And open the email I sent you, I need you to let me know which of those jackets you like for the press tour.” In addition to his makeup artist, he’d hired you on as his stylist. It was a lot of extra work, but he paid you just as much as Disney did. Another reason why you didn’t want things to be weird – you didn’t want to wrestle with his tie and avoid looking up at him at the same time. You’d much rather just have him laugh at you and watch his cheeks crinkle up.

           “Thanks!” Sebastian called as he walked over to the hair washing station at the end of the small trailer.

           “You know, he’s been asking if I want to set him up with someone…” Anthony started quietly as you reached for a comb.

           “If you even mention my name and ruin my entire life, Mackie, I swear to God I will…”

           “Hey, now. He likes you too. Trust me.” You groaned and turned around, rolling up the sleeves of your sweater to start on Sebastian’s hair.

           “You know, Mackie, you look like the kind of guy people can trust. But it’s been two years and I can only count a handful of times when you haven’t been lying to me.” He shrugged.

           “Fine to me if you want to keep being a bachelorette your whole life.”

           “I’m 21.”

           “And he’s not getting any younger.” You scoffed and turned back to help Sebastian. If he heard anything, he didn’t say anything. He just let out a sigh when you started washing his hair.

-

           “I’m not talking about this, Anthony!” You said loudly. “Sit down so I can fix it!” You were referring to a bruise he’d gotten on set when someone had playfully punched him with a set of fake brass knuckles only to realize they were real. Hannah was taking a long break to go to the doctor, so you were it. Sebastian was supposed to be on set, but he was outside the trailer. He stopped when he heard your voice. He’d never really heard you snap at anyone before.

           “Fine, fine, fine. I’m just trying to help you, kid. I think you could be endgame, I really do. If you would both just stop being your stubborn selves…”

           “Anthony!” You warned. Sebastian’s eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but if it wasn’t about him he didn’t know what else. Endgame?

           “I am just saying.”

           “I’m 21. I barely even have a job, I pick out clothes for him…”

           “You’re a glorified babysitter and you’re fantastic at your job. Anyone who can’t see that is, well, not here.”

           “Still. It’s so cliché, dating an assistant, and…” Hannah emerged from the car she’d just parked beside the trailer, seeing Sebastian.

           “Are you eavesdropping?” She asked with narrow eyes.

           “No,” Sebastian answered. It was surely a lie. Hannah passed him and swung the door open, revealing you.

           “Oh, thank God,” you said as you saw her. But when you looked past her, your heart dropped in your chest. Sebastian was there. And you were sure he’d heard the entire thing. You sighed, though. You wanted to go home and cry, but you sucked it up and got Sebastian ready for his next scene. You and Hannah were in the trailer for another two hours, patiently waiting in case you got called to fix hair or makeup. You didn’t, though, and finally they were back. Anthony gave you a mischievous smile, one that was completely unapologetic. Did he ever not play around?

           “Hannah, can you come back with me for a minute? Costumes asked for your input on some of the replacement suits.”

           “Coming!” Hannah walked out as Sebastian walked in. Over the time that you helped him get un-ready, you noticed the things that Anthony had been pointing out. You were more careful with his skin than you were your own, making sure he didn’t break out from the makeup. You were way more careful to hide his eyes with your hand when you used product on his hair. You were too gentle with the brush. And this time he seemed to notice it, too, and the air in the room shifted as you watched him grab his backpack and start changing back into the sweats he’d been in that morning. Even without real clothes on, he was still gorgeous. He still looked like a million dollars. He looked soft. You wanted to run forward and grab him, but you didn’t. You just started to put your own sweatshirt on.

           “You know, Anthony was telling me earlier,” Sebastian started. He shut off the air conditioning unit you kept in the window for your asthma. You looked over at him and took in the sudden silence in the room, eyeing your lanyard of car keys beside his. Usually, he’d walk you back to your car because it was dark out. No matter the security of the studio – he always wanted you to feel safe.

           “What?” You asked, trying not to make anything obvious.

           “He was making it sound, I don’t know, like… Like you, uh, like me or something.” Sebastian was causal about it, but you could see his hands were shaking and you could see something in his eyes. Your own started to look like a deer in the headlights.

           “Um,” you started to respond.

           “I mean, if you do, it’s…”

           “I have to go,” you interrupted abruptly. Sebastian looked defeated. “I can make it back to my car, I just remembered I have to, uh…” You took your car keys, and Sebastian sighed. He was losing you, just like he feared he would. Great.

           “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/n,” he said with a sad smile. He watched you walk to your old car, wrestle the key in, and sit down. And just as you did, the night’s first drop of rain fell from the sky. Of course it was supposed to rain as your entire life was crashing down on you. It was too ironic for it not to.

           “Where’d Y/n go?” Anthony asked as he appeared at the trailer again.

           “She looked like she was about to start crying,” Sebastian answered. “You said she liked me so I asked her, and all she said was she had to go.”

           “Oh, my God, man, you did not lead with that question.” Sebastian sighed.

           “It’s been five years, dude, I don’t know what I’m doing.” Anthony rolled his eyes and started to grab a makeup wipe. “I like her, and I’m pretty sure she all but said it, but I really think I screwed something up.”

           “Yeah, you did. Just… Give it an hour. Bring her dinner, tell her you screwed up, and that you like her and you just didn’t know how to lead the question.” Sebastian looked down.

           “But what if she doesn’t want to be with me? I’m old.”

           “She does. And right now she’s probably thinking you don’t want to be with her, so you’d better go fix it before she cries into an entire quart of chocolate chip cookie dough and starts watching Gilmore Girls again.” Sebastian took his car keys and picked his jacket up from the back of the chair.

           “Maybe I should just bring her the ice cream, too,” he grumbled to himself.

           “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. She only likes the Ben & Jerry’s because it’s the only one that has enough cookie dough, so go ahead. But you should shower first, you smell like fire.” Sebastian nodded, slowly, and headed out into the cold rain.

-

           “I just feel like such shit,” you told your mom. You had taken a break from crying when you got back to the little guest house you rented from an old rich couple in Tuxedo Park since it was close to the studio. You had called your mom, wishing she could give you some words of wisdom.

           “Why else would he ask you if he doesn’t like you?”

           “Mackie.” Your mom seemed to understand. You loved Anthony like a brother or an uncle, but he really didn’t seem to understand that you were a scared… Idiot. You were being an idiot.

           “Oh.”

           “I know I’m being an idiot, I just… I don’t want to ruin anything. And what if we do get together somehow and he just breaks up with me and I still need this job, and…”

           “I think it’s a chance you should take,” your mom said. “You are being an idiot. What’s the worst that can happen if you don’t say anything? It’s going to come out sometime, and I think it already did.” You sniffled.

           “I just really like him and I feel like I really screwed up.” You watched a set of car lights come down the house’s long driveway toward your little apartment, but it was just the owner, Moira, coming back from the country club.

           “I think you can fix this, honey. And I think you know what you should do.” You nodded, slowly, but took a second look out your window and stood up from where you were laying on the couch. The lights weren’t Moira or her husband, Alexander. Or their daughter. It was Sebastian’s car. Your heart started beating faster.

           “Sebastian’s here,” you said in pure shock.

           “Well, go see what he wants,” your mom responded. “And call me later.” You hung up the phone absentmindedly, looking around you. You had the TV playing Gilmore Girls, you were wearing your oldest, ugliest pair of sweats, and you had cried all of your makeup off. You looked like an absolute wreck. If this didn’t make him hate you, you didn’t know what would. You tried to fix your hair a little, but you didn’t make it too far. Sebastian got out of his car in the pouring rain holding a brown paper bag you recognized well. It was from your favorite Italian restaurant. In another bag was a pint of cookie dough ice cream like the one you’d just finished. You sighed. He was definitely buying you dinner just to reject you. But you put your best face on and opened the door, taking in the smell of the pouring rain.

           “Why are you here?” You asked him.

           “Dinner!” He answered. You smiled at the innocence of his response and stood in the doorway, arms crossed, holding the door open with your back. “About earlier, in the trailer, I…”

           “I do like you,” you responded when you could hear him over the rain. He was under the portico of the guest house, protected from the rain.

           “You do?” His face lit up with a smile as he walked in, putting the bags down on the counter behind you. “Because I thought for a second…”

           “No, I just… I was being an idiot.”

           “No, I was being an idiot, I was such an asshole just calling you out like that, but I talked to…”

           “… Mackie,” you finished for him. He nodded.

           “Yeah. I just… He told me you only like Ben & Jerry’s, but they had two kinds with cookie dough so I got both of them, and then I got food, and I was hoping we could talk a little, just because….”

           “Did you get two sets of silverware?”

           “I was hoping I could eat with you. Like, I don’t know. Some kind of weird, impromptu, fucked-up, accidental date?” He asked timidly. You couldn’t help but smile, and that was when he actually looked down at you. “Have you been crying?”

           “And eating Ben & Jerry’s,” you answered. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself.

           “And watching Gilmore Girls,” he said as he saw the TV. “That’s exactly what Mackie said.” You scoffed.

           “How does he know me so well?”

           “I can’t believe I don’t.” Sebastian looked down at you, brushing your hair behind your head. The door was still open and the rain was still beating down and you were melting from his touch as he held onto your cheek.

           “Are you about to kiss me in the rain?” You asked him.

           “Is that okay?”

           “Yeah. Just make it fast so my ice cream doesn’t melt and my food doesn’t get cold.” He smiled at you and leaned down, just enough to where he could kiss you. Your hands went to his chest to pull him closer. He had just showered and he smelled like the aftershave he always left in the trailer and you never wanted him to stop. He was just as soft and warm as he looked.

           “Fast enough?”  

A/N: I loved writing this so much omg. My power is back, my WiFi is back, and I am in my FEELS. I think you can probably tell I was listening to some old T Swift when I was writing this????

[melodious-madrigals]

we should just kiss (like real people do)

hi @misha-winchester, i am your wondertrev secret santa! i hope you had a lovely christmas season/whatever holidays you may celebrate, and i hope you have a very happy new year.

Pairing: Diana Prince/Steve Trevor Words: 8′609 Rating: T (swearing) AO3 tags: Modern Setting/No Powers, co-workers, Fake Dating, ‘and there was only one bed’, Hallmark-movie-esque midsunderstandings, Happy Ending Summary: Etta just invited Steve’s significant other along on their group holiday vacation. The only problem? He made said significant other up to get out of a series of set-ups six months ago, and forgot to set the record straight. Enter Diana, his newest co-worker and real-life crush, who doesn’t have any holiday plans and is somehow offering to help him out.

i have been derelict for too long, but no more! i’m so sorry that it took me so long, and i hope you enjoy this trope-packed fic, because i couldn’t decide on just one, and then it sort of ballooned!

Read it on [AO3] or below the cut.

***

“Shit.” Steve’s head thunks against his desk.

“Problem?”

He looks up to find Diana Prince, the newest legal consultant at their NGO standing in his office door. She’s intimidating and smart and beautiful and possibly also the kindest person he’s ever met, and even though they’re friendly, she’s the last person to whom he wants to admit what’s wrong. But she’s also looking at him with such genuine concern that he spills his guts anyways.

“The last time my friend Etta tried to set me up with someone, I told her I was already dating someone, and now she wants me to bring them on our annual holiday trip to one of our friend’s cabin.” Steve kneads the space between his eyebrows, trying to get rid of the tension headache that’s starting to form.

Diana tilts her head, confused. “That’s kind of her.”

“I’m not actually dating anyone,” Steve clarifies. “I just said it to get her off my back. And now I have to either say I lied—which will not go over well for obvious reasons—or say that I broke up with the person and get all sorts of ‘holiday pity’.”

Diana leans elegantly against his doorframe. “People go their separate ways all the time, no? Besides, maybe it’s a bit soon for a weekend away with friends.”

Steve winces. “It’s possible that I told her this almost six months ago and never corrected the record.”

“Ah,” says Diana, taking the liberty of moving into his office and sitting down across from him. “So it’s rather a large deception then.”

“I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand? It was just so nice to not have my friends nagging me about my dating life. They’re well intentioned but a little too insistent sometimes.”

“Okay, so telling them is out of the question,” Diana says, very seriously. And—uh-oh, she’s going into problem-solving mode. He’s absolutely mortified that his very capable and very attractive co-worker is taking time to talk with him about this when she’s a literal international human rights lawyer and university lecturer with plenty of other things to be doing. “Hmm. Isn’t that what Craigslist is for?”

“Ha,” says Steve. “I’m never going to be able to get someone to come with me over Christmas on such short notice.”

“Not everyone has plans on Christmas,” Diana argues.

“Yeah, I get that; I’m not even Christian,” says Steve. “But a lot of people still go home because it’s a long holiday.”

“I’m not Christian either and I don’t have any family here in the States. We exist,” Diana jokes.

“Want to be my fake date, then?” The words leave Steve’s mouth before his brain can catch up and tell him what a massively stupid idea that would be, to fake date his real crush, for lack of a better word.

“Yes, alright: if you can’t find someone on Craigslist, I’ll do it,” says Diana, and then before Steve can process: “Anyways, I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time. I just dropped by to give you a hard copy of my revisions. She hands him the legal brief, shoots him a quick smile, and saunters out of his office, apparently unaware of the dazed state she’s left him in.

I’ll do it? Is she serious? For a second, Steve’s mind runs away from him before he shuts it down. She was just being polite; he’s certain of it. There’s no way she wants to give up her days off to go to a cabin in the middle of nowhere with people she doesn’t even know.

Steve reluctantly writes up a quick wanted ad on Craigslist and hits post before he can overthink it. He can definitely do a fake date for the holidays, right? That’s something normal people do.

**

Three days later, he’s gotten a dozen responses to the Craigslist ad, but most of them are variants of either “is this some weird sex thing?” or “can you please post this story on reddit’s r/relationships with an update on how it went because i’m 2000 miles away but very invested in this”. None of them are a real live person that he can take on the trip to meet his friends.

His brain has also been playing Diana’s I’ll do it on repeat pretty much constantly, so on Tuesday evening, after most people have already gone home for the night, he steals himself and wanders down to Diana’s office. If she’s in, he’ll ask. If she’s gone, it’s a sign, and he won’t bring it up.

She’s still there, illuminated only by the glow of her computer and a small desk lamp—the overhead light is turned off and her coat is on, like maybe she was in the process of leaving and then went back to her desk to dash off one email that turned into several.

He taps on the doorframe.

“Steve!” she says, smiling when she sees him. “What a pleasant surprise! Have a seat, I’m just finishing something up. It’ll only be a moment.”  

He smiles nervously and takes one of the chairs opposite her desk, patiently silent as she taps away at her computer.

Three minutes later, she folds her laptop closed and turns the weight of her attention to him.

“Thank you for being patient. What can I do for you?”

“I just—were you serious?”

“Hmm?”

“The other day—were you serious about being my fake date if I couldn’t find someone on Craigslist?”

“I—yes, I was.”

“Wait, really?”  

She shrugs elegantly. “I have no holiday plans.”

“You’re sure.”

She tosses him an amused expression. “I am. It’ll be nice to meet some new people.”

“Right. Well. Can I, uh, buy you dinner or something while we go over the details?”

Diana considers him for a moment. “How does Thai takeout at my place sound?”

“Like a fantastic idea.”

**

On Friday, Steve is extremely antsy. He’s taken a half day, and he and Diana are driving up to Charlie’s cabin after her lecture lets out.

She’s in a good mood when he picks her up, and the ensuing discussion crosses a half a dozen different topics. He doesn’t think they’ve ever had a boring conversation, and they’re more than halfway there before Steve remembers that he wanted to run through the basics of their fake-dating mandate again.

“I’ve never really been much for PDA,” he says, “so they won’t be surprised if we’re not particularly demonstrative. A little hand-holding and casual touching here and there and we’ll be fine.”

“Yes,” replies Diana, amused rather than annoyed. “You mentioned this the other day.”

“Did I? I guess I’m just nervous.” He’s already feeling a little guilty about lying to his friends (again), and he’s suddenly wondering if he’s capable of pulling it off.

“They asked me to invite you—er, my significant other—to a dinner in October. I don’t think it’ll come up, but—”

“I spent a week of October in Europe, and have plenty of university functions to attend,” Diana reassures him. “Saying I was busy that night probably isn’t even a lie, and besides, that was months ago. Take a breath; this will be okay.”

“I’m just rethinking this,” huffs Steve.

“You’re welcome to tell them I’m just a friend that needed a place to stay for the holidays,” Diana offers calmly.

“No. No, I’m committed to the lie now.”

“Okay. Then let’s do this. I’m here for you, you know.”

“Yeah,” says Steve, glancing over at her in the passenger seat before turning his attention back to the road. “Thanks.”

**

They’re the last ones to arrive to the cabin, because everyone else was able to take the full day off, so they walk into a full house.

“Oh, it’s so lovely to finally meet you!” exclaims Etta, pulling Diana into a hug before they’ve barely gotten in the door.

“You must be Etta,” Diana says, once she’s been let go. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hey, Etta,” Steve says, pulling her in for his own hug.

“Everyone else is in the living room.”

They make their way down the hall, towards the sound of all the voices.

“Steve!” yells Sameer from across the room when they round the corner. A cheer goes up—it’s possible that some of them have already had a glass or two of wine—and Steve pulls Diana forward to introduce her.

“Everyone, this is Diana. Diana, this is Napi, Charlie, Etta’s wife Adrienne, Sameer, and Sameer’s fiancée Noor.”

“It’s so lovely to meet all of you,” says Diana, moving forward to shake hands and give hugs, along with Steve.

“You’ll want to drop off your luggage in your room, I’m sure,” Etta declares forcefully, shooing them back out of the room once they’re done with the greetings.

“Alright, alright, we’re going,” acquiesces Steve.

“Well, dinner will be done shortly, and I’m sure you’re hungry. Best get settled in before you go into a food coma.”

“Stop making sense,” he snarks, but they all know he’s joking.

“Second door on the left!” calls Etta after him, as they traipse up the stairs. There’s a niggling in his brain about this room, because he’s been in it once and it’s—

“Shit,” says Steve under his breath upon entering the room, because it’s one of the rooms with a single queen bed instead of two twins.

“Is there something wrong with the room?” asks Diana, a step behind him. “I’m sure we can fix it, whatever it is.”

“No, it’s just—I didn’t even think about this,” says Steve, gesturing at the bed. “Usually when I come, I’m in a different room with Charlie or Napi.”

Diana surveys the space in front of them. “You mean the bed?” Her nose wrinkles. “Are you really that uncomfortable sharing?”

“I—no, of course I’m not. I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Well then, that’s settled. I am not uncomfortable. Which side do you prefer?”

Of course it’s not a big deal. Right. He’s making too much out of this because he might—possibly—have feelings. But for Diana, it’s just two adults sharing a bed, which is perfectly natural. But now she’s looking at him expectantly, which makes him realize—“Uh, left, I guess.”

The way she smiles, he gets the distinct impression that his answer has pleased her, that he’s chosen correctly, if such a thing is possible. (He thinks, stupidly, that he would do quite a lot to chase that smile.)

Meanwhile, Diana drops her duffel on the right side of the bed.

“Do you mind if I change quickly before dinner?”

“Yeah, no, of course. I’ll just be downstairs.”

Steve heads back downstairs and pauses in the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

He can definitely share a bed with Diana. They’re adults. It’s not strange, and it’s not romantic. It’s just two people sharing a sleeping space because there are not enough beds.

He reenters the living room to find Charlie and Sameer in the middle of an argument about who’s the better cross-country skier while Noor, Adrienne, and Etta chat over a cup of tea and Napi watches over several pots in the kitchen.

“The answer, of course, is neither of you. Noor is the best skier here.”

Charlie squawks indignantly, and Sameer laughs. “That she is.”

“Can someone set the table?” asks Napi. “Dinner is about to be ready.”

Steve, as the closest one to the kitchen, pulls out the plates and silverware and starts setting up the table, while the others slowly drift towards the dining area.

And then there’s a gentle pressure on his elbow. “Can I help with anything?” asks Diana, softly, and when he turns, he feels the air knocked out of him.

Diana is all comfort, in simple black leggings and a chunky winter sweater instead of her usual pristine business wear, but she’s all the more beautiful for the casualness. Her face, too, is wiped clean of standard makeup and her hair is down, and he realizes that she has freckles. They’re faint, just the slightest smattering over her nose and cheeks, but Steve is close enough to see them, and for a second he wants to touch them, trace them into constellations.

Then he realizes he’s staring and jumps a little, moving to rearrange the plate in front of him.  

“You could, uh, fold the napkins, I guess? There isn’t really a whole lot to do.”

They work in tandem as the rest of the crew files in, loud and boisterous as they dish out their meals.

“So, Diana,” says Etta, once everyone is settled in their seats, “tell us all about yourself! Steve’s been so tight-lipped about you that I was starting to think you didn’t exist.”

Steve almost chokes on his wine, but Diana doesn’t so much as flinch, simply smiling at Etta and saying, “Well, I’m not sure what you’d like to know, but I’m originally from one of the Grecian islands and I completed my studies in the UK. Right now, I’m splitting my time between the US and the Netherlands.”

“Oh, what part of the Netherlands?” asks Noor. “Sameer and I both lived there, at different points!”

“Just the Hague, I’m afraid,” says Diana ruefully, because it’s not known for its charms.

“Diana’s on a prosecutorial team at the International Criminal Court,” Steve clarifies, which prompts a number of impressed looks all around the table.

“We’re in between cases right now,” Diana says, “and we’re only just starting to file some pre-trial motions for the next thing on our docket, so I took a position as a guest lecturer here in the States. A friend of mine convinced me to take the consulting position at the ARGUS Foundation since it’s not full-time.” When Diana pauses, she notices a number of raised eyebrows around the table. “I think the expression in English is ‘I wear a lot of hats’,” she jokes.

“She’s a wonder,” interjects Steve easily, and he doesn’t even have to work at the soft look that he gives her. (He’ll interrogate the fact that it’s just how he looks at her later, when he’s alone and can have a nice little panic about it.)

“I just like to have purpose,” says Diana, and then Noor asks her about her last case, and the conversation takes on a life of its own.

Diana, as he suspected, gets on well with his friends, fitting in as though she’s known them years instead of hours, and they migrate into the living room after dinner, talking and laughing into the late hours of the evening.

“They are all lovely,” Diana tells him the moment the door to their room has closed behind them.

“They’re okay,” says Steve, but his face is pulled up in a smile, and Diana just laughs. He’s spent all evening getting to look at her whenever he wants, and even though they’re alone, even though there’s no need for his eyes to keep finding her, he doesn’t want to pull them away.

“They’re all so interesting!” Diana exclaims. “Sameer and I talked about linguistics for a full half an hour, and Etta and Adrienne’s stories are incredible!”

That makes him laugh. “Yeah, Etta’s something else.”

They talk a little more as they get ready for bed, and finally there’s nothing more to do but turn out the light and get under the covers. Steve’s tired enough that he thinks he has a decent shot at falling asleep, but he feels a little awkward as they both shift carefully on their respective sides.

“Hey,” he whispers into the deepness of the silky black night. “Thank you again for being here.”

“It is my pleasure.”

He listens to Diana’s breathing quickly even out, and though it takes him a little longer, he too falls asleep without too much trouble, despite her nearness.

**

To his great relief, or maybe to his great disappointment, they wake up in almost the exact same positions that they fell asleep in, on completely opposite sides of the bed.

“Good morning,” says Diana softly, hair slightly mussed and eyes still a little heavy with sleep, and frankly Steve’s not sure how he’s going to make it through the rest of the trip, because he likes her so much and also doesn’t want to impose his feelings.

“Good morning. I hope you’re ready for another insane day.”

“Once I’ve had some coffee, absolutely.”

“Well then,” says Steve, “let’s get you some coffee.”

Coffee is followed by breakfast, which is chaotic because everyone is up at slightly different times and traditionally, they fend for themselves for breakfast which means in practice that half a dozen people end up doing things in the kitchen at the same time.

The rest of the day is no calmer, as they all pack themselves up and spill outside for a snowy hike that lasts most of the afternoon. Diana, Etta, and Napi establish themselves as the fastest hikers early on, and they sort of naturally split into two groups. The whole group meets back up at one of the lookout points, where the faster group has lingered to let the rest catch up.

Steve uses the viewpoint to check in with Diana. “You doing okay?”

When she turns to him, her cheeks are rosy with exertion, her breath is coming out in silvery puffs in the cold air, and her eyes are dancing. “Excellent, you?”

“Really good.” They take in the snowy view in front of them. “Hey, I didn’t mean to leave you on your own,” Steve says, suddenly feeling a little awkward.

Diana snorts. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I was the one that walked ahead of you. If I’d been bothered, I wouldn’t have split off with Napi and Etta.”

“Right, of course.” He feels a bit stupid; she’s never struck him as the type to do something she really didn’t want to.

“We should probably walk back together though. For appearances.” She winks at him, and before he can respond, Noor is at his elbow.

“Can I take a picture for you two?”

“That would be great,” says Diana, handing Noor her phone as she slips her arm around his waist.

Pictures are snapped, and then they’re headed back down the trail. Steve ends up so engrossed in his conversation with Diana that the rest of the group fades away, and on the last straightway after they’ve descended, Diana reaches out and casually links their hands. Even through their gloves, it’s a giddy feeling.

**

That night after dinner, Steve steps outside for a moment of respite from the noisiness of the cabin. He breathes deeply, and stares at the patch of sky not covered in clouds, picking out a familiar constellation.

“Diana’s wonderful.”

Steve looks up from where he was leaning against the balcony railing to find that Etta has joined him outside.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great,” Steve agrees.

“I’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable introducing us earlier,” says Etta so sincerely that Steve feels a squirming guilt welling up. “But if this was the pace you needed to go to be sure of your relationship, to make it solid and lasting, I’m glad you took the space to do so.”

“Right,” Steve echoes.

“Seriously, Steve,” says Etta, touching his arm, so that he’s almost forced to look at her. “You and Diana are so well-suited, and she’s good for you—I’ve never seen you like this.”

“What’s this?”

Etta contemplates him a moment. “You’re happy,” she says simply, and Steve rolls his eyes, because if Etta thinks just being in a relationship equates to—“but it’s not just that. You’re…still. Calm. You’ve usually got this frenetic, discontented energy, and with Diana it’s quieted.”  

It makes Steve pause, but before he can say anything—refute her or maybe, heaven forbid, agree with her—Diana herself is bursting onto the balcony.

“There you are!” she exclaims, wrapping her arms around him from the back, and fuck, maybe it is his instinct to relax in the split second before he remembers that this is all an act. “Charlie says we’re roasting marshmallows over the fire, and I’m told that you have the technique perfected,” she says, with all the exuberant glee of a child.

Steve pointedly ignores the knowing, indulgent look on Etta’s face as he turns in Diana’s arms to face her, a small but unquashable smile on his face. “That’s a classic holiday tradition for us—I was wondering when Charlie was going to break them out. Have you ever had a s’more?”

“No, but I’m looking forward to it!”

“Well, then we can’t let Sameer or Etta roast yours; they always burn them.”

“It’s meant to be eaten with a little char,” says Etta.

“Absolutely not!” Steve doesn’t have time to say any more, because Diana has laced her hand in his and his gently tugging him toward the interior.

“Right. This is an American classic and you’re gonna love it.”

After making her the perfect marshmallow—gold and toasty, and soft all the way through without being burned—the rest of the night is spent roasting increasingly silly things over the coals and drinking copious amounts of hot chocolate and eggnog that are optionally spiked, utterly warm and cozy.

“Tell me something about yourself,” requests Diana, when they’re tucked into bed later, still on their own sides but far closer together than they were the night before.

“Like what?”

“Something—well, not something secret, if you don’t want to. But something that most people probably don’t know.”

Steve considers her for a moment, shifting so that he’s facing her, the moon providing just enough light that he can see the contours of her face. “I wanted to be a pilot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I wanted to be a fighter pilot.”

Diana grins. “I can see that. What stopped you?”

“I decided I wouldn’t really be helping people, and helping people is what I wanted to do. What about you?”  

“What did I want to be?”

“No, just—anything.”

“Hmm,” says Diana. “My favorite childhood memories are those of my aunt, Antiope.”

“Was she the cool aunt who spoiled you rotten?”

“She was the aunt that got me up at six in the morning every day to train.”

“Wow, that’s neat, I guess,” Steve deadpans, and Diana laughs in the darkness, rolling onto her side so that she’s facing him, so that they’re almost nose to nose.

“She was also more indulgent than my mother, yes.”

“I think we have very different definitions of indulgent,” says Steve.

“Perhaps,” says Diana, and despite how late it is, they spend another hour or two trading secrets in the darkness before falling asleep. Steve learns, among other things, that she loves cherries more than any other fruit, that she’d rather take the metro than a cab any day of the week, that she played the harp for a while and misses playing music but not playing the instrument itself. When they finally drift off to sleep, it’s still facing each other, fingers inches apart.

**

Steve wakes up feeling incredibly comfortable and very cozy. It’s only when he stretches a little that he realizes that the warm weight against his chest is not his blanket, but Diana. During the night, they must have migrated into each other, because now that his brain is coming back online, Steve realizes that not only is Diana tucked into his chest, but their legs are twined together. His shifting causes her to stir a little, but only to nuzzle against him a little before settling.

This is fine; he’s not freaking out. Not about how they’re accidentally pressed together, or about how much he likes her, or about what any of this means. Not about lines blurring and becoming harder to make out, not about lying to his friends. He’s fine.

Taking a breath, he weighs his options. He can wait for Diana to wake up and pretend he’s still asleep, and let her figure out how to react, or he can try to extricate himself now. Although it might wake her up, and then it would be doubly awkward, and—

And he’s waited too long in deciding, because Diana stretches a little sleepily and then blinks her eyes open, looking up at him.

“Good morning,” she says, apparently unbothered by their position. It’s making him spiral in confusion, and want, because it would be so easy to lean forward and kiss her, but neither has she directly expressed interest in him romantically, so he’s not about to actually do it.

“Did you sleep well?” asks Diana, gently untangling herself and sitting up.

Now that Steve thinks about it, he realizes that he’s slept better than he has in ages.

“Yeah,” he affirms a little hoarsely. “You?”

“Very well.” He’s considering saying something else—anything else, maybe apologizing for how closely they slept or, alternatively, telling her he adores her—when she continues, “How do you think everyone would feel about quiche?”

“Quiche?”

“One of the few reliable things I can cook,” says Diana, “but I have a good recipe, and I’m quite certain we have everything I’d need.”

Steve blinks. “I think it’d go over well.”

“Perfect!” Diana slips out of bed, sliding across the room with more of her infectious energy as she gathers her clothing for the day.

By the time Steve gets downstairs post-shower, Diana’s got the crust rolled out and blind-baking and has a number of veggies sautéing.

“Oh, good, you’re here! Can you pass me the mushrooms?” she asks, and he obliges, then takes it upon himself to crumble the cheese for her.

“Do you cook a lot?” he asks, and then curses himself, glancing around to make sure they’re alone and that nobody heard what was clearly a question that he, by all rights, should know the answer to. Blessedly, the only other person up is Napi, and he’s out on the porch.

“Not if I can help it,” says Diana. “You?”

“I enjoy it,” says Steve.

“Enjoy what?” asks Sameer, who’s just come down the stairs.

“Passing me ingredients when I tell him to,” teases Diana, successfully covering up what may have been a slip-up, because Sameer just rolls his eyes.

“You two are ridiculous.”

“More like adorable,” says Etta, who has apparently also been summoned by the smell of brewing coffee. “By the way—how did you two start dating? I’ve been meaning to ask since I never heard the story from this one”—she gestures at Steve—“and I’m sure it’s equally adorable.”

Steve can’t believe they’ve come this far without being asked, and that they didn’t do a better job of anticipating this question. He’s about to bumble his way through a response, but Diana, who is now pouring the egg mixture into the pan, has it covered.

“It’s sweet to me because it is ours, but I think you’ll otherwise find it quite boring. My third day of work, I came to his office by accident, looking for another colleague, and we traded a couple of jokes. Two days later, a bunch of people from the office went out for drinks after work, and I ran into Steve again. We spent a lot of the evening chatting, and when we left for the evening, he walked me to my train, and as we were waiting on the platform, he asked me out. He was kind and funny and handsome; there was no reason not to say yes.”

For a moment, Steve feels like he’s been hit by a train, because that’s actually how they met. They did spend an evening chatting, and he did wait on the platform with her. The only bit that didn’t happen was the asking out, and now he wonders what might have happened if he had. Then he reminds himself that it’s all an act, and she’s supposed to be acting like she likes him. He’s getting reality confused with the little mirage they’ve created.

“—it is sweet though,” Etta is saying when he snaps back to attention, unsure of just how much he’s missed.

“Yes, Steve is very thoughtful,” says Diana fondly.

He doesn’t really get a chance to ask her about it, because soon everyone is crowded around the table for breakfast, and that quickly turns into a card game, where they get separated by a few seats. It all somehow blends into lunch, as people swap in and out, Sameer and Noor doing the cooking, this meal, with Adrienne flitting in and out to help as she puts up a few extra lights for tonight’s Christmas eve celebration. He tries not to think about it too much, because Diana looks like she’s having a good time, and he is too, and eventually he gets swept up in the game, focusing on counting trump and keeping track of tricks and arguing genially with Charlie about who may or may not be cheating.

**

“Steve.” Diana pulls him aside after lunch, tugging him into their room.

“What’s up?” She looks entirely too serious, and it worries him. Is this about their story? Is something wrong?

“First kisses are always a bit awkward,” she says bluntly.

It’s so out of the blue that Steve’s brain doesn’t even short-circuit. He just blinks. “Yeah, usually.”

“Well, I just saw Adrienne putting mistletoe up. Your friends are wonderful people, but if we don’t get caught under it naturally, they’ll make sure we do.”

She’s got his friends pegged; that’s absolutely how they operate.

“They’ll recognize something is off if we’ve never kissed. I think we need to practice.”

Now Steve’s brain short-circuits.

“Practice.”

“It’s the only way to make sure it’s not during an ambush.” Her eyes are wide and she’s very close, so close that one of them could erase the distance without even taking a step, but she’s paused, waiting.

Waiting to see if it’s okay, if she has his consent.

His thoughts flick back, inexplicably, to this morning. (Was it really just this morning that they woke up tangled together? It seems a week ago already.) Knowing what it’s like to kiss her will probably explode his brain, but not knowing is worse. He nods, just a fraction, words caught in his throat, and then she’s closed the distance and pressed her lips to his.

Fireworks are for dramatic novels, but the world still shifts on its axis. It’s soft and slow, exploratory, but the pressure is somehow just right, and it consumes him. It’s everything he never let himself imagine it would be, and more. When she eventually pulls away—seconds, minutes, hours later, he’s not sure—he chases her lips for a moment before remembering himself, marshalling his reaction and pulling away in equal measure.

“Right, so. No mistletoe first kiss,” he manages, because seriously, what the fuck, he’s never had a first kiss feel that natural, that right.

“Mission accomplished,” says Diana faintly. “I think we’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” Steve echoes, and he thinks he sees Diana’s gaze flick back to his lips, dark and heavy, but then there’s the pounding of feet on the stairs and shouts outside their room.

“Steve! Diana! Are you in for another round of cards before we start the movie marathon?”

Diana startles, and takes three steps back, smoothing down her hair, her shirt, before opening the door to find Adrienne there, looking at them expectantly.

“Yes, of course,” says Diana.

“Oh,” smirks Adrienne, giving them a once over. “I can come back.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll come down now; I want to get a cup of tea before we start up again. Steve?”

“I—yeah, a cup of tea would be great. Black tea—”

“—with a dash of honey, I know,” she says fondly, as if this is old news and not something she’s clearly picked up in the last day and a half.

“Thanks.”

When he collects himself and comes downstairs a few minutes later, he spots Diana across the room, head thrown back in laughter as she chats with Napi over the kettle.

She fits, he thinks. He’s seen her in professional settings, being diplomatic even when she doesn’t want to be, but here, she’s relaxed, and from everything she’s said, she likes his friends as much as they like her. Isn’t it sort of everyone’s dream that the person they like gets along with their friends?      

He takes another second to try to untangle his thoughts before he gets ushered back into the fold and has to pretend that everything is uncomplicated.

**

Christmas day dawns bright and cold, and sees, for the second day in a row, Diana snuggled into Steve. Despite another meandering conversation in the dark—in which he absolutely chickened out of asking her about the backstory she created for them, or the kiss—and starting the night on different sides of the bed, they seem to have rolled together in their sleep, and if he didn’t wake up with an absolutely parched throat, Steve would’ve probably gone right back to sleep, enjoying the warmth. Instead, he extricates himself gently, and by the time he gets back to the room a few minutes later, Diana is up and dressed, dashing any plans he might’ve been entertaining for a bit of a lie-in.

As with most things on their holiday trips, the day is centered around food. There’s a huge brunch, and then a little foray outside—nothing like the hike the day before yesterday, just a little walk that turns into a snow angel contest—and then it’s back inside to start cooking Christmas dinner. It’s Etta and Charlie taking point, because, as Steve explains to Diana, the group rule for any and all holidays is that those who observe do the traditional cooking, and everybody else takes care of the clean-up.

At one point in the afternoon, a trivia game gets pulled out, and in a classic showdown of boys (Steve, Sameer, Napi) vs. girls (Diana, Noor, Adrienne), the ladies trounce them thoroughly. There’re plenty of mimosas and someone starts a Christmas playlist, and honestly, Steve can’t think of a better Christmas in a long, long time.

They don’t really exchange ‘real’ gifts, but they do have a long-standing tradition of an intense game of White Elephant, which happens after dinner.

No less than 4 items (a succulent in a corgi-shaped pot, a coffee mug with some gratuitously dirty language on it, a pair of wool socks with Munch’s The Scream emblazoned on them, and an umbrella patterned with cartoon gentleman amongst the raindrops so that it’s always raining men) get stolen so many times that they hit the limit. (Diana walks away the proud owner of the socks, thanks to a strategic steal by Steve, which sets her up to steal them for the last time.)

The mood is so light that Steve has almost forgotten that this isn’t quite real, that he’s lying to his friends and sort of lying to Diana, too. That comes crashing down when they bump into each other coming back into the living room.

See, Steve and Diana had managed to casually avoid the newly strung up mistletoe all of Christmas Eve and most of Christmas day—at least together, that is; at one point Steve finds himself under the mistletoe with Sameer, and they both dramatically grip each other for a theatre kiss—by sheer luck, but their luck runs out after White Elephant. Steve has gone into the kitchen to deposit an empty tray of food, and Diana is on her way back from the bathroom, and they collide in the doorframe.

Instinctively, Steve puts a hand out, touching the small of her back lightly to anchor himself and steady her. It’s just a casual touch, but he lingers a second too long.

“Oooh, look! Steve and Diana are under the mistletoe!” sings Adrienne, pointing from across the room.

Steve glances up automatically, as though maybe Adrienne might be wrong, even though he knows damn well that there’s mistletoe hanging there.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” chants Etta, clearly a little tipsy, and the rest of his asshole friends join in the chant.

Steve’s eyes flick to Diana’s, and she raises an eyebrow, inclines her head almost imperceptibly. It’s permission, so he leans in and gives her a quick kiss, their lips barely touching. He’s not sure he can handle more in front of his friends right now, not with all of the emotions pooling in his stomach.

“Boo!” yells Charlie. “You and Sameer had a better kiss than that!”

There’s general clamoring of assent, and Diana reaches out and cups a hand to his cheek, to a great whoop from someone in their little peanut gallery. “If you are uncomfortable, we do not have to do this,” Diana murmurs, low and close enough that only he can hear it.

The real problem is that Steve wants little more than to kiss her again, but he feels guilty about it.

“It’s okay.”

She searches his eyes for a moment, and then closes the rest of the distance, kissing him properly. He sinks into it, and relishes in the little gasp he elicits when he deepens the kiss just a little. It’s the catcalling that splits them apart, and he’s sure he looks a little shell-shocked.

“That’s a kiss!” hollers Adrienne.

To his surprise, Diana doesn’t immediately move away from him, but stays tucked into his side, blushing a little.

“You’re all just a little too invested in our love life,” she admonishes lightly, but the point is missed as Etta launches into a bit of a ramble about how Steve introduced her to Adrienne by accident and how she’s been looking to return the favor, but that she’s glad Diana is here.

Steve watches Diana go a bit pink again, and wants to pull her aside, try to clear some things up, but then there’s another round of mulled wine, and they settle in for one last Christmas movie before the day ends.

Diana goes to bed before Steve does, while he stays back to have another round with Charlie, and by the time he realizes that he wanted to talk to her alone, she’s fast asleep.

**

The morning of the twenty-sixth is chaotic from the start; Diana’s up and out of bed before Steve wakes up, and then everyone is scrambling to pack up before they all drive back to the city. This time, Diana and Steve have got Sameer and Noor with them, because they came with Napi, who’s leaving directly to visit some extended family, and Etta and Adrienne don’t have enough room because they’re Charlie’s ride. It’s a pleasant ride, and Noor, Sameer, and Diana spend a solid half hour swapping in and out of Arabic to tease Steve, who does speak three languages himself, but doesn’t count darija as one of them.

They drop Noor and Sameer off with promises of seeing them at Etta’s party on New Year’s Eve, at the very latest, and suddenly they’re alone again.

“Thank you again for doing this,” says Steve. “You were the best fake date I could’ve asked for.”

“It was my pleasure,” says Diana. “I had a really good time, and a fun holiday.”

“And you really don’t mind putting in an appearance at the New Year’s Eve party?”

“Not at all. I’m actually looking forward to it.”

“Good; I think everyone is looking forward to having you there.”

They’re quiet as they pull up to Diana’s building.

Before Diana can move to get out of the car, Steve takes a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything.” Her wide eyes are trained on him, and he almost loses his nerve.

But it’s now or never; he has to know if this is just him or if she feels something too. “If I had asked you out, that night on the platform, would you have said yes?” It feels like the safest version of the question he wants to ask.

Diana doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

It knocks the wind out of him and is simultaneously one of the best things he’s ever heard, because maybe that means there’s still time to make a proper go of it.

“Do you—”

He’s cut off by Diana leaning forward and kissing him sweetly, and he instinctively pulls her a little closer, deepens the kiss without consciously thinking about it.

“Sorry, I interrupted you,” says Diana, biting back a smile when they eventually pull apart, breathless. It makes Steve laugh, and he can’t fight the grin that’s also building. There’s no one around to fool, no one around even to prepare for; this is just them.

“Do you want to come to mine for dinner tonight?” Steve asks, bubbling with a profound sort of happiness. “For a real date this time?”

“I would love that,” says Diana, grinning. “No tricks, no fake backstories. Just us.”

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Just give me a couple of hours to shower and change and answer a couple of emails?” Diana says.

“How does seven sound? I’ll cook.”

“I can’t wait.”

He watches her go, almost floating from how giddy he feels. As he drives home, he mentally goes over what he’ll need to get for the meal he wants to make. Truly, it was the best fake date ever; he might, he thinks, even consider posting the story of it to the r/relationships thread like one of the Craigslist messages asked, because it’s so wonderfully peculiar.

**

“Right on time!” says Steve with a grin when Diana knocks on his door that evening for their date.

His smile falls when he notices her face, tired and serious, despite how light it had been only hours ago.

“Steve, I have to go,” she says without preamble.

“What?”

“I’m flying back to the Netherlands tonight.” What? That can’t be right; she’s not due back for several months, and even that’s only a trip. Steve’s brain lags a second and then realizes she’s still talking, dark eyes all apologies. “—straight to the airport from here, actually. I just came by to say goodbye. It seemed like the sort of thing that should be done in person.”

“But what—”

“You know who Patrick Morgan is, yes?”

Of course he knows who Patrick Morgan is; he’s a war criminal who was only caught and extradited recently. It made waves when jurisdiction was given over to the ICC, at least among the relevant international communities.

“The war criminal?” he asks, just to confirm.

Diana nods. “That’s the one. Look, I’m not really meant to be talking about my cases, but I’m on the prosecutorial team and his lawyers are good. They’re trying to file a pre-trial motion that would—well, let’s just say it would be bad if the judge ruled in their favor. We’re scrambling and I’m needed back at the office, in person.”

“Shit.” There’s nothing else to say, really. She’s the one who can make sure Patrick Morgan doesn’t hurt anyone else, and that’s that.

“It’s awful timing,” whispers Diana, and there’s true regret in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. You’re doing what has to be done.”

“I wish it didn’t,” says Diana. “I wanted to—I don’t know, go on a proper date and go to your friends’ New Year’s party with you, and this has just—it’s mucked it all up, hasn’t it?”

“An understatement,” says Steve, laughing wetly. Maybe—

“I have to call the ARGUS Foundation from the car, get everything squared away in regards to my commitments there. Gods, this is such a nightmare.” Diana’s pacing now, and Steve can see all their possibilities slipping away, now that she’s returning to the Netherlands. It’s not the most important thing, this casualty of what could have been, but it still breaks a little piece of Steve’s heart all the same.

“I wish we had more time,” says Steve, a little bittersweet, because there’s not much else to say. Diana sends him a sad smile and nods.

“I really have to go. I might even miss my flight as it is.”

“Right, of course.”

She looks at him hesitantly for a moment, like she’s going to say something more, and then pulls him into a hug. As she pulls back, she kisses him softly. It feels like goodbye more than any words could.

Then her phone rings, and she looks at him apologetically one more time, a quick, “I’m sorry,” before taking her leave and answering it. He hears her frustrated Dutch echoing down the hall as she walks away.

After she leaves, he feels a little aimless, and a little numb. It doesn’t quite sink in that Diana is gone, but he does think, absently, that something bad was bound to happen, because nothing catastrophic happened over the holidays—no real fights, no disastrous weather; it all went too smoothly.

**

The next few days are a slog: he’s back in the office, technically, but everything has slowed down substantially in between the holidays, just enough to not really keep him occupied.

It scares him a little how much he misses Diana. They were sort-of friends before the fake-dating charade, more friendly-coworkers than anything, but he got used to her being a part of his daily life absurdly quickly and is having a hard time adjusting back. They could have been something spectacular, he knows, if circumstances hadn’t made it impossible.

She texts him when she lands, and he’s glad to know she’s made it safely, but it ignites a fresh wave of ache such that he’s almost glad she doesn’t answer his text back, or text again. He ends up ignoring his phone, mostly, trying to distract himself from thinking about what wasn’t meant to be. (It’s bad luck with fate: if they’d had more time, if they were something real, he might consider moving, but it’s too soon, too early, even if he thinks he might already love her.)

On New Year’s Eve, he spends most of the day cooking, Netflix on in the background, whiling away time before the party Etta and Adrienne are throwing.

“Where’s Diana?” asks Etta, when she opens the door and finds Steve there, alone, carrying three tiers of Tupperware and a bottle of champagne, because of course she does. All his friends adore Diana too.

“She had to fly back to the Netherlands for a case,” says Steve morosely, unable to say anymore because he might choke up, and crying is fine but not during a New Year’s Eve party.

“Oh, what a shame she’ll miss New Year’s! When is she coming back?”

The fresh, stricken look on Steve’s face tells Etta everything she needs to know. “Oh, luv, I’m so sorry. I know long distance isn’t easy.”

It’s the perfect excuse presenting itself, really. In a month, Steve can say that the distance was too much, and Etta will understand, and that will be that. He’ll be out of this lie, too, with no one the wiser that it started as a fake thing. But right now, Steve is still mourning the fact that it never got to be anything real in the first place.

“It is what it is,” says Steve, trying for a smile.

“Well,” says Etta, also going for something resembling cheery. “We’ve got plenty of alcohol and a place for you to crash tonight, if you want it.”

“Thanks, Etta.”

He whiles away the night nursing a glass of wine and floating amongst friends and acquaintances, trying to enjoy the merriment. Etta, bless her, must spread the word that Diana had to leave for work, because only Noor asks after her, right after he gets inside. After that, he doesn’t have to answer any further questions, and instead focuses on the laughter and brightness radiating from his friends.

At a few minutes to midnight, he slips off to a quiet corner, not quite ready to face the rowdy, kissing couples.

Somewhere behind him, the apartment door slams, and there’s something of a commotion, but he doesn’t bother to investigate until—

“Did I make it in time?” asks a breathless voice.

Steve turns, and there, standing in front of him, a vision in a bright red coat, is Diana.

“But how—?” She’s meant to be in Europe, but she’s very much not. She’s here.

She’s here.

“We finished a little early and I got the first flight out. I took a cab from the airport to get here as fast as I could.”

“You hate cabs,” says Steve helplessly, fixating on something that’s very much not the point because it’s one of the many strange things they talked about, and because it’s somehow easier to focus on than any other part of it.  

“I wanted to be here.” Her eyes are twinkling, and Steve can’t quite believe she’s here, on New Year’s Eve, and—shit.

“But what about the case?”

“We got the motion thrown out,” she exclaims, delight lacing her words. “We’re proceeding as scheduled. I’ll have to go back for a bit starting in May, but—”

That phrasing catches Steve’s attention. “Wait, you’re not moving back to the Netherlands permanently?”

“What?” asks Diana, looking genuinely perplexed. “No! It was just a business trip, inconveniently timed. I was never moving back. Did you think—”  

“I thought—” says Steve, at the exact same time.  

There’s a look of recognition on Diana’s face, as if she’s doing the maths, going back over the conversations they had once more in her head. She bites her lip, shakes her head. Laughs.

“We are both a bit stupid, I think,” she says. “I was never going to be gone more than a week or two, but I suppose I didn’t make that clear enough. I thought it was just bad timing, since we were starting something, but you—”

Steve shakes his head, incredulous. “I thought I might never see you again, but you’re really here.”

Diana reaches out and ever so softly touches his cheek. “Yes. So, did I miss the countdown?”

Steve stops fighting the smile that’s building. “Nope. And you know, they say whatever you’re doing at midnight you’ll be doing for the rest of the year.”

“Do they? You’d best choose wisely, then.”

“I’ve got an idea.” The countdown hasn’t started yet, but he leans in slowly anyways, because he figures they’ve wasted enough time. She meets his lips eagerly, and in the background, Steve can hear Etta’s whoop of excitement, but really, the only thing that matters is Diana, and the feel of her lips underneath his.

It’s just as earth-shaking as it was the first few times, but they break apart momentarily as the countdown actually begins from the other room. When midnight hits, they kiss again, a little shorter this time, their smiles too wide to make it a proper kiss.

“Happy New Year, Steve,” whispers Diana, forehead pressed to his.

“Happy New Year,” he echoes. An endless plurality of shifting possibilities stretch before them, elastic and hopeful, and very real once more. From the other room, the chords of a piano start, a telltale sign that Charlie has started his traditional rendition of Auld Lang Syne.

“You know, eventually people are going to realize our anniversary isn’t in July.”

That elicits another giddy laugh, because somehow, he’s gotten lucky enough that this is his reality. “Yeah, but that’s a pretty good problem to have, all things considered. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“No,” says Diana thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t either.”

***

[ask-gotham-city]

The audio transcript of my interview with Bruce Wayne! Thanks for 300 followers guys we love you a lot 🥰

W: Hello! Is my connection okay?

BW: You’re good.

W: Great. Well it’s, uh, good to see you, Mr. Wayne. How’s quarantine been treating you?

BW: Good, I’ve been doing a lot of reading, watching stuff with my family, that sort of thing.

W: That sounds nice!

BW: It is, uh, though living with eight other people can be a little hectic at times. [laughs] I think I remember you from the office, but it’s nice to finally meet you more formally. [W] right?

W: Yes, uh, yeah I’m really glad we could work this out!

BW: You said in your email you had some questions for me?

W: Ah, yes, yeah, let me pull those up. Okayy, so first one—wait is it okay if I just jump in?

BW: [laughs] Whatever you want.

W: Right. Okay. First question from evalynnmesserli: What motivates you to use so much of your wealth on Gotham?

BW: Oh... well, um, the simplest answer to that one, is because I can. I have a ridiculous amount of money, frankly, uh, too much for one person in my opinion, so it only makes sense to put it towards helping others. But, uh, if we’re going with the slightly less “press friendly version,” I believe everyone deserves a fair shot at life. I’ve seen firsthand the dangers of Gotham, and I want to do everything I can to prevent someone else from experiencing what I have. Money happens to be very good at that.

W: That’s, yeah that’s awesome. I know a lot of people here really depend on Wayne Enterprises’ health insurance, so just... thanks, I guess. I, um, don’t wanna get, like, too mushy or anything, but you do help the city a lot. So uh... yeah, thank you Mr. Wayne. And, uhhh jumping off of that, anonymous wants to know if you’re considering ever doing a beneficiaries gala, with uh, like staff and kids from places you fund and stuff.

BW: Once It’s safe to meet again, absolutely. I usually try to throw a few beneficiary events a year, but I’ve been slacking on that ever since the uh, kidnapping, hostage, fake death-y situation a few years back. I don’t know what to call it, anyways, I need to get back on that.

W: I look forward to it! And hey, how many people can say they’ve legally been dead before? That’s at least kinda cool right?

BW: Yes It’s a good, [chuckles] a good ice breaker.

W: I bet, I bet. Okay, uh, another question from anonymous, “Do you know the Chad Wayne/Virgin Luthor meme? If so, how do you feel about it?”

BW: [laughter] The what?

W: Let me email it to you hold on. Wow... emailing memes to my boss this is not, um, what I expected to be doing today. 

BW: This is what you were talking about?

W: Yeah.

BW: [smiling] It’s very, uh, very flattering, I guess. People still remember the margarita thing?

W: It’s a pretty popular vine.

BW: Oh, ah, I see. Well anonymous, I haven’t seen this before but it’s very funny, uh, I’ll send it to my PR agent.

W: I’m glad you like it [laughs] and speaking of memes, anonymous also wants to know if your kids show you memes or ‘Ok Boomer’ you at all.

BW: They do, uh, to both. Tim especially, and I think he’s slowly getting the others to as well. The other day they added me to a group chat where they send me things they think I’d find funny. I’m apparently not allowed to actually, ah, speak, in that chat, but it’s nice. The ‘Ok Boomer’ thing really isn’t that bad and I think they’re joking most of the time anyway.

W: You aren’t offended by it?

BW: No, not at all. I would’ve used it if it was a thing when I was a kid, it’s good to talk back to authority figures once in awhile.

W: Yeah, yeah, agree. Um, next one is from anonymous as well: “How does it feel having kids with such different temperaments?”

BW: I think it’s something every family has to deal with. Everyone’s their own person, you can’t exactly change that, and you just have to work together and compromise. It’s never, uh, never perfect, by any means. I definitely know I haven’t been the best dad 100% of the time, but that’s okay. You just have to communicate, I guess, especially with a big family like mine.

W: Continuing on about family stuff, and to wrap up the questions I got, anonymous wants to know “Do you or your kids have any favorite sweets?”

BW: Oh yeah, yeah absolutely. Cass especially will eat anything with enough sugar. She’s pretty fond of Rice Krispies and marshmallows. Uh, for the others though, let’s see... I have a mental list for birthdays and stuff. Dick likes toffee and caramel, I think, Tim’s a pudding person, Ja[audio cuts out for a sec] uh, Peter likes fruit candy, Damian likes stuff with nuts like peanut brittle, and Duke... wait I know this one it’s uh... cheese cake! Right. Especially the like... Jello brand no bake ones?

W: Oh my god those are my childhood! 

BW: They’re surprisingly good. I’m, uh, not the biggest sweets person myself but, ah, I’ll-I’ll go for a slice of cake or pie every once in awhile.

W: Any preferences?

BW: Uh... Tiramisu’s pretty good, and my butler makes a great strawberry rhubarb.

W: Cool, cool, yeah. Uh, well to wrap things up I have a question of my own.

BW: Shoot.

W: Well, um... do you know how Batman’s doing?

BW: Batman?

W: Yeah like, with the quarantine stuff.

BW: He’s... good. Just got a new batch of batarangs in for him.

W: Really? Do you oversee deliveries?

BW: Um... sort of, I guess. It’s my company and money but I’m not really, uh, allowed to go into too much detail I think.

W: Oh, right, right. Well, um, could you tell him thanks for me if you see him anytime soon?

BW: If I remember, sure, yeah. Any reason?

W: I’m just... he’s really cool, and helps the city and stuff, I don’t know. I’m kind of a big fan.

BW: Well I’ll definitely tell him you said hi.

W: Thank you! Both, uh, for that and like, letting me do this in the first place.

BW: It was no problem, I’m not that busy. This was fun.

W: Ah, well I’m glad! I guess I hope you have a good rest of quarantine and that your family stays safe and healthy and stuff.

BW: [laughs] Thank you, you too, [W].

W: Bye Mr. Wayne!

BW: Goodbye.

It was so nice to talk to Mr. Wayne like this for the first time, so thank you guys for making me do it. I hope you enjoyed this!

-W

[timeforadventuresblog]

My Media Consumption (CN - 9)

Each day, I would probably spend about three to twelve hours or more with media. When I was young, I only watched a lot of television, mostly cartoons. When Facebook started to pick up, I started to spend more time on the computer, either playing kids' websites to play games or checking Facebook's games like Cafe World and Pet Society. I had a competitive spirit back then. After a while, I got exposed to all different kinds of media, but my favorite kind of media is the internet. 

The internet for me is a wonderful place, even though I had some bad experiences with it. I tend to go on YouTube and some let's players have affected me at least once like Jacksepticeye and Markiplier. Nowadays I haven't really been watching them but their energy and messages still gets me inspired to be positive even if it feels hopeless. They still inspire me to this day. Secondly, I cannot leave out the online friends I've made that had made my school year better. It is what I always look forward to at the end of the day. After school, they would come online and we'd talk about what we did in school and I always ask if I can help them with homework or if I could teach them anything, even if I'm terrible at explaining. I would sometimes crack ridiculous jokes in chat, and I'd wonder if they find me insane or funny. The chat eventually evolved into a family roleplay chat. We consider ourselves family in roleplay and in general. They assigned me play as a dad. I'm reluctant to play that role and they even call me dad; however, I wish I could've played along. Nowadays, the chat seldom would come alive, but it doesn't feel the same anymore, because some of the chat members are no longer on that platform and it really saddens me. Though the other members considered me as the odd one out as I would be the calmest among the chat members; moreover, whether I'm online, they'd spam me messages until I answer. They'd even hold funerals for those who don't go online often which gives me an incentive to chat with them but in a positive way. Back then, I never realized how friends who care feel like, but now, I learned how to appreciate a friend's loyalty. These friends made me feel that I was important to them. Thirdly, I learned about maturity and honesty after I created a Twitter account at a young age. My parents didn't know that I made an email account and a Twitter account at the time, and surprisingly, they never took it down even after I told them about those accounts. I was about ten years old when I made the account, and I do believe it is somewhat a mistake and a good thing. On Twitter, I would tweet about what I'm doing at the moment and people would follow me for random reasons. There were a lot of trolls online and it was hard to take criticisms for a 10 year old like me who was very sensitive. Even now, I'm still prone to criticism, but now I know what to consider as proper criticism and consider as destructive criticism. I learned how to face trolls and be a better person, so I'm somewhat glad I got exposed to the other side of media.

Another media I know of is television. I consider this a powerful media because in general and during elections, companies and candidates advertise on television and they seem to be very effective. Anything that happens on air, either something funny or controversial, may be spread and people can heavily judge that segment.

When the media went widespread, it had a positive and negative impact on the world. Let's start with the positives. For this day and age, the media can easily inform and update us about the weather, surroundings, and politics. If there's a typhoon or heavy rain coming, I myself check Facebook or Twitter to see if the mayor has declared no classes. But for general news, I would check Reddit for the news and other things that are happening in other parts of the Philippines. I become much more educated, learn much more about other people, and broaden our view on other people's cultures and differences by their descriptions. On the other side of the spectrum, it is easy to absorb too much information without checking its genuineness and it is easy to spread this said info to anyone since the sources of information are the users on social media themselves, and I cannot be so sure to trust them or their information. Similarly to what I have browsed on Reddit, I see people use editorialized titles and sometimes give news that are either fake or never mentioned in said article. Media can also be destructive. For instance, if a person would say something controversial, it can lead to a ruined reputation either for a company or for the individual. Mentioning Reddit again, sometimes people do not agree to a very controversial opinion and they downvote or reply something harsh. We should be familiar with Philippine media and other media too to prevent such things and be aware of our surroundings.

Let's compare Philippine media to U.S. media by starting with the similarities. People also heavily rely info online rather than hardcopies. Since they're both media, they inform us of our surroundings and both can do harm if they present us misleading information. Let's now move on to differences. In the Philippines, if there are laws that are being implemented and would heavily affect people's lifestyle, Filipinos only react and do nothing because some aren't aware or think they're okay; moreover, they take action after they've felt the difference. The media are somewhat biased but you wouldn't notice that easily. They cannot make fun of the government due to a law in place and it is harder for journalists to state their opinion because many get killed yearly. The news they show seem to heavily dumbed down too as they focus a lot about showbiz and not about important news happening around them. On the contrast, U.S. citizens are always informed and take action immediately. The media is distinctly biased and the people are free to make fun of the government. Important news are always shown first before any sort of entertainment. That's why we should learn how to be aware of media and their information, so we can prevent from spreading fake news, be informed and know when to react to said information.

I expect to learn a lot of great things in this class. One topic I'm particularly excited about is the legal, ethical and societal issues of media and information, especially since I always hear about copyright on YouTube. I don't understand those licenses that the user sometimes adds; furthermore, I believe I will need this information for animation because I might need to use certain sound effects or songs. I also would like to know how to settle arguments maturely just in case I get into one in the future. I always see YouTube comments that get into an argument and I have a hard time following them who's in the right. I hope this certain topic can answer my questions.

References :

https://www.enotes.com/homework-help/what-advantages-disadvantages-media-315966

https://www.importantindia.com/22940/media-advantages-disadvantages/

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-16757497

https://www.google.com/amp/s/amp.reddit.com/r/Philippines/comments/2gjndv/what_cant_you_stand_about_philippine_media/

[mandytremelling-author-blog]

Pen Names- Is it worth it?

Every writer is eventually faced with the same conundrum: Do I write under my legal name, or do I create an alternate persona to write with? I have been asked so, so many times why I chose to write with a psuedonym.  So, buckle your seatbealts, boys and girls, I’m going to explain why I use a fake name.

Rose Winters

Oh, so you didn’t know Mandy wasn’t my real name? Well I guess we should start from the beginning. When I published my first books (Beyond the Unknown and book 2 Revealing the Unknown) I was a minor in high school (though I wrote the books in middle school). And not only that, I had been using direct quotes and characters from my school! This wasn’t something I wanted attached to my name. I wrote a couple scenes that were very near and dear to my heart and were a little embarrassing to be sharing, but the story needed them. So that was why I published under Rose Winters when I first published.

Mandy Tremelling

Now, after that explanation, you’re probably saying “But, Mandy, you’re not a minor anymore! Your novel My World of Glass doesn’t have any characters based off of anyone you know! You didn’t use direct quotes from people around you! By this logic, you shouldn’t have used a penname!” Well, you’re right, on all accounts.

I chose to continue with a fake name because, after all these years, I’ve enjoyed keeping my writing life seperate from my real life. I compartmentalize many parts of my life, it’s easier for me to manage my anxiety and other issues that way. So I wrote under Mandy Tremelling this time. It’s nice to be able to have run into people in town who had my book recommended to them, they read it and like it, and try to recommend it to me when I see them reading it. I enjoy the Clark Kent feeling of anonymity. (Plus, you never know, maybe eventually 'I’ll be cool enough to have crazy fans. And I gotta test their skills to see if they can find the real me in the clutter! I joke.)

How to: Pen Name Edition

When I was finding a name to publish under in High School I read all the articles and everything I could to figure out how to come up with the perfect psuedonym. (And I had to learn what that word was, too)  I talked to lots of authors and heard lots of opinions. What I finally came to understand is every author has different reasons and ways to go about this. Kind of a let down, I know. But there is really no right answer. From pen names that are just initials (Hello, JK Rowling) to gender changes (Robert Gailbraith, also Joanne Rowling) or even complete persona changes (George Orwell is the author of Animal Farm, but is actually named Eric Blair). There are so many very famous ways to come up with an alter ego.

Rose Winters was fun to come up with, but also a little embarrassing (just like the novel was to publish). The name Rose came from my middle school crush. He would call me Rose for a super silly, middle school-romantic reason. I also drew roses on every surface and with every medium I could get my hands on. (My frosting roses were pretty epic.) So that name was easy to figure out. Middle school Rose had everything to do with the Beyond the Unknown books. Winters was a little harder to figure out. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to make up a fake surname like the first name, or what. Luckily I had a writing mentor during the time I was writing the books who helped out. She writes online under a false name as well, the first and last names both coming from family surnames. So I decided to take my mother’s maiden name and use it as a surname.

Now the embarrassing part. I walked around everywhere calling myself Rose Winters. I was so proud of how it sounded. After I published, though, was when my mom lovingly reminded me, “But my maiden name is Winter, not WinterS.” But Rose Winter didn’t sound as cool, or roll off the tongue, as well as Rose Winters. So it stayed.

Mandy Tremelling was easier to come up with. I kept the same concept, I used a nickname and a surname from my family. After I published under Rose Winters, all of my family was so disappointed that they wouldn’t be able to see my name on a cover. But I still didn’t want to write under my legal name. So I took my family’s nickname for me, added it to a family name, and there came my new psuedonym. (They still aren’t pleased, but whatever. Can’t make everyone happy!)

The Takeaway

Coming up with a fake name is a much more daunting task than one might think. Whatever name you choose will be stuck there, on the internet history, forever. Sure, if you Indie Publish, it’s kinda easy to replace the name on the cover and paperwork. But the internet is fickle, and we all know what’s on the internet stays on the internet. (Which is why I still have an active rosewinters.author@gmail.com email address open which I still get fanmail in, as well as my mandy.tremelling@gmail.com email I get writing requests in.) Once your name is out there, it’s going to be out there. It’s scary and intimidating, and the name may not come as easily to you as you’d wish. But it’s a helpful and fun part of the writing process.

If this doesn’t answer your questions and you have more for me, please reach out to me! Either on Twitter ( @MandyTremmy ) or Facebook, or email, or whatever, please let me know if you have more questions and I will happily answer them for you!

[norgad-vcd]

Revised Text

What goes on, online?

Anything and everything. It’s a beautiful and vibrant mess of human interaction. Everything from trivial and thoughtless acts to the most sincere and genuine deeds. It’s grounds for the vicious and the virtuous alike. The internet is what you make of it; a tool as good or bad as it’s wielders.

It’d take a thousand lifetimes to see it all.

How about a quick glimpse instead?

Hiya, I’m Tom! I’ve spent enough of my life online that I can confer some of my findings to you. This book is a smörgåsbord of experiences, phenomena, and memories I’ve been witness to and participant in during my time here. While not a full picture, it should help you navigate the ballpark of possibilities out there. My experiences are just one sample from billions; perhaps after this you’ll seek to venture out further into that world-wide web, or - at the very least - understand a little better those who do.

Friendships don’t care about how you nourish them, just that you do.

Catching up online is great for keeping friends close. It might be raining, someone might be away from home, or even sick and stuck at the hospital; the reason doesn’t matter. It might not be perfect - and sure, we could all get a little more sunlight - but for what it’s worth it’s good for the soul and sometimes the best thing on hand.

How do I put this?

It’s not all the same thing though, there’s different tools for different jobs. There’s a difference between how I talk to people in an idle chat and talking to someone in a formal meeting; different modes of communication for different settings and people. It’s the same thing with online modes of communication. Sending a message on Discord to one of my friends, I’d take a casual, grammarless, and very loose style of typing. Contrast that with an email to my grandmother; that’s much more structured and considered, like a half mimicry of a handwritten letter to be delivered by post. People still sign off emails with their names at the end, as if emails don’t also just tell you who they’re from in the ‘sender’ info.

Occasionally I’ll need to message someone I only vaguely know. In these circumstances it can feel a bit standoffish and unfamiliar. I’ll type out sanitised and unambiguous sentences; without tone of voice - or a history of talking to the person online before - it’s hard to judge sarcasm, emotion, and everything else conveyed nonverbally in a conversation. Erring on the side of caution seems to be the best bet, until we both get to know each other’s style of writing a bit better.

Over the first 2020 lockdown, me and most of my real-life friends started a minecraft server together and played through it for the duration of our stint stuck at home. It was like a little clubhouse, each time we logged in and saw things change slightly since last time. We left each other notes and set up gifts and pranks for when people left and returned. It was a great way to keep in touch when we were otherwise very isolated from social contact.

On a lot of platforms there’s a little indicator that tells you if someone’s online, offline, or possibly busy. This is really useful to see if someone might be free to talk or hang out. It’s also really good at betraying to someone the fact that I still have not gone to sleep, despite the fact that I said I was going to sleep about four hours ago.

To be fair, they said they were going to sleep about four hours ago as well.

[JOSH TEXT]

A big benefit to text chat is that if I’m preoccupied and all my friends are talking about something, I’m not left behind and out of the loop. I can always re-read what everyone wrote once I have time, pick up all the new inside jokes and keep up to date with people’s lives. The same can’t be said for voice chat; if I miss a hangout there I’ve missed it for good. This can get a bit weird if people are using both at the same time though; the text portion of the chat devolves into a complete mess of contextless strings of text and images out of nowhere. With a keen eye and a bit of detective work I can often piece together the general gist of the missed conversation, but other times it remains a mystery forever.

Whenever someone sends me a meme, I’m elated. I get to look at a funny picture, but I also get to send that same funny picture to someone else. Who knows how many hands the image passed through before it reached me, and how many more hands it will pass through before it reaches its final viewer. Maybe it’ll never reach a final resting place, instead getting recycled and remixed into memes anew until the end of time.

[ANOTHER GUEST SPEAKER TEXT]

Who are you, on the internet?

Online, your real-life identity isn’t attached to you by default. Of course there’s places where the expectation is indeed a connection to real identities - like Facebook for example - but this is not a requirement. I’m not known as ‘Tom’ online, people know me by my username.

It’s not a fake me, or a way to lie to people, it’s just an alternate expression of myself. We act differently to different people in so many social situations, - from time with family, to at work, and to hanging out with friends - the internet allows even more possible ways to express parts of ourselves. For me, it’s liberating to exist in a state that’s disconnected from the tangle of my real life self, and to keep the tangle of my internet presence away from real life as well.

On the internet, nobody knows who you are.

Unless you divulge them to others, your identity, physical appearance, background, nationality, gender, race and so on are completely unknown; this is the great equalizer. Free from biases based on your physical self, you can be perceived as purely another person.

A clean slate can tempt some however to act recklessly. If an identity and history can be shed so easily, some people feel emboldened to act without the threat of consequences; verbally beat someone up, and then wash their hands of the whole incident.

It’s important to remember that people online are still people; while their faces might be obscured, they still have thoughts and feelings. In general, talking to people online has about the same potential as real-life to be great, awful, or somewhere inbetween; it’s mostly luck of the draw who you’ll run into.

I don’t know the names or faces of some of my closest friends.

That doesn’t mean I don’t care about them; I just care more about who they are as an individual. I still know their personalities, their sense of humor, what they like and don’t, and everything else you’d know about a friend. We still have inside jokes, favourite group pastimes, and all the rest.

Who are you talking to?

When I was younger and my parents would ask who I’m talking to on the computer, I wouldn’t know how to respond.

Do I tell them “I don’t know” and spark images in their heads of catfishers and criminals?

Do I tell them my friend’s username and get told “that’s not a real name”?

Most of the time I’d just try to give a vague non-answer and hope the conversation goes elsewhere. Keep my little world safe.

[SYDNEY TEXT]

Perfect is the enemy of good.

Because everyone lives in different time-zones, it can often be difficult to pre-plan hangouts. Oftentimes me and my friends have planned to have a movie night at a specific time, and then once that time rolls around, one or two people are still offline, probably asleep. Oftentimes whoever was missing will come online several hours later and be sorry and upset that they held everyone up and wasted everyone’s time. Of course, we had all just postponed the movie night and just hung out and chatted instead.

Oftentimes we have to accept that it’s near impossible to have everyone hang out at the same time; it’d require half of us to be up at god awful times or to wake up at 4am for something. Instead of trying to plan big ‘everyone’ events every once in a blue moon, we try to have frequent but smaller hangouts. It might mean that we don’t get to see everyone at the same time, but it’s still workable. If we were to hold out till everyone was free at the same time, we’d never end up hanging out at all.

She should have been back by now.

A while ago, someone in one of my friend groups noted that someone hadn’t been online for two weeks. Dread set in. We all knew that our friend was very prone to getting ill, and we didn’t want to say it but we were worried she might have died. Since we don’t know each other in ‘real life’ it was entirely possible that someone could drop dead one day and we’d never get any confirmation; just left wondering what happened. We asked around in common friend circles, and nobody had heard from her, coming up on about three weeks at that point. We had to do something.

Multiple friend circles of people from all around the world, scrambling to find any scrap of information about our lost friend. One person had ‘maybe’ an address that they sent something to once, but it might have been an old house. We found about three different possible legal names, and had no way to be sure which was right. We ended up sending a letter addressed to the name we thought was most likely to be right, or to “the family of”. Someone tried ringing her house, but the people on the other end of the line didn’t know who we were, and we didn’t know who they were; we got hung up on because they thought we were stalkers. It was all desperate fumbling in the dark, but we were worried sick.

There were only ever two possible outcomes; if she came back we would find out she was alright, if she didn’t we would be left eternally hoping she would. Nobody wants to be the one to say “Hey guys, I think our friend might be dead, we should give up.” Time soon gave us our answer; she was alright. She had been stuck in hospital for a while and didn’t have access to a phone to let us know what had happened. We were all so relieved and had a laugh over how everyone overreacted, but it really did scare me. I’ve learned to really value the time I get to spend with my online friends; next time might not be so lucky, and if something were to happen it’s hard to ever get closure on it.

There’s never been a better time to pick up a new hobby.

One thing the internet’s really helped with is connecting like-minded individuals. Before the internet, if you had a niche hobby, you were probably the only person you know in your town with that hobby. Kinda lame, yeah? Nowadays, you can reach across the globe and connect with everyone who’s into the same stuff as you! Mainstream topics can have gargantuan communities, but what I find even more interesting is the weird obscure hobbies and groups, the kind that would never survive without the internet.

People online dedicate huge amounts of their free time to making resources and guides to almost everything. Need more bespoke help? You’d be hard pressed not to find someone who’s keen to chat more about their favourite pastime, if it means welcoming a new person into the fold. Guides and resources, instructional videos; it doesn’t matter if you’re trying to get into carpentry, cooking or, (mine)crafting; you’ll find support along the way.

Some things really should have stayed niche.

Conspiracy theorists. Hate groups. Radical extremists. The internet’s power to connect people can also amplify voices that really didn’t need amplifying. What once were lone people with fringe beliefs - isolated and ‘alone’ - are now monstrous communities with the power to warp people’s sense of normality. There’s a critical mass where people don’t need to interact with people with outside views, they’ve got plenty of people to talk to in your own bubble. They don’t need to ‘go outside’.

We’re all susceptible to this; it’s only human. However, it’s important to stay vigilant. While you shouldn’t keep people around that make you miserable, you shouldn’t block out the first sign of dissent. Maintain a healthy variety in the people you talk to, and the content you consume.

[ANDREW TEXT]

In the rules discussion channel of a board game group I’m in, I swear sometimes it’s like I’m stuck in a time loop. I watch a random person ask a common question about the game, and then someone else will get the rules clarified for them. A few hours will pass, the conversation drifting elsewhere as people drop in and out. Suddenly, I spot it; the same question from before, but from a different person. Like clockwork, another nameless devout will rise up and deliver the answer. And again. And again. It’s like a two-line stage show where the audience is also the cast, over and over and over.

Since profile pictures and usernames are self-selected, every time I talk to someone new I get a weird little keyhole view of what who I’m talking to might be like.

This person has a picture of a cat as their profile image. Is it their cat, or did they just think the cat looked nice? Their username is ‘Millie’, is that their real life name; maybe? Or what if it’s the cat’s name? Are they pretending to be their cat? Are they a cat?

[RAZEK TEXT]

I do a wee bit of online gaming, and in a lot of these games the people you get paired with are completely random. I know nothing about this motley crew I’ve been thrown into, and yet we’re all expected to conform into a cohesive team and work together to win. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes the luck of the draw has it that I’m paired with a bunch of inept clowns, and sometimes I’m paired with intelligent and skilled players who I mesh with really well. On the odd occasion, I might even strike up a good conversation with my team, build up some rapport. Start cracking jokes and bantering.

There’s a strong but ephemeral connection..

Sooner or later, the game ends. We say our goodbyes, and the game throws us back to the wind; like two ships passing in the night. There’s a slim chance we’ll ever both be in the same game again, but it doesn’t matter that much. We still had a good time, made a brief but positive impact on someone else’s day; and hey, there’s always the chance one of us sends the other a friend request before we leave.

Having a large presence online - that is, having other people follow or be ‘fans’ of you - is a mixed bag. For me it’s been really good in allowing me to get my art out there and get clients, but it’s also weird. It feels a bit like I’m up on a stage sometimes, everyone’s watching me. I’ve lost the feeling of being ‘just another guy in the crowd’. What if someone reads something I posted the wrong way? Do I keep being aloof and carefree, or will that hurt my image. Should I care?

[CHAI TEXT]

People with large presences can feel familiar, friendly, like you’re already friends. I’ve caught myself falling into this in the past. The brain’s great at filling in the details you want to be real. I realised that I had it written in my head that this person was super cool and the best and that it’d be really cool if we hung out; all extrapolation. While it’s entirely possible that they were everything I had imagined them to be, until it’s tested it’s all just imagination and fantasy. If I’ve never talked to them, how could I even know?

[DAVID TEXT]

What happens when the digital and the physical self have to intersect?

The two identities are from the same person, but they’re not the same.

One time, my parents sent me a text along the lines of “Your sister showed us your art; looking really cool Tom!”.

How.

I’d never sent my family any of my online profiles. I check my Twitter; sure enough in front of my eyes the screen tells me my sister has followed my twitter account. Abject horror. How much did they look at? What did they think? Should I start looking for a flat?

It’s not that I had anything to hide, it’s just that it felt… misaligned. Like two worlds coming together that shouldn’t. I’m sure for them it was just “Wow, look at our son go!”, but for me in the moment it was a sudden wave of confusion and dread.

One time, I was lucky enough to have a few of my internet friends visit in real life. I was showing them around my house, when I ran into my mum. It hit me. Who do I even introduce these people as? We all know each other by our online names and had been using them in conversation minutes earlier, but that would make no sense to my poor mum. And so, awkwardly, one by one my friends rattled off a set of names entirely alien to me. We all barely managed to keep straight faces as each of us discovered “Wait, this person’s called WHAT?”.

We all promptly forgot each other’s names within about two minutes.

Thanks to the internet, I met my partner.

Almost four years later we’re still going strong, twelve thousand kilometers apart. It helps a lot that a lot of our common interests can be done online, chiefly gaming and movies. But even the other stuff, we can still do together in some aspects. We always say good morning and goodnight to each other on the phone, and fill each other in on what we’ve been up to that day. If we go somewhere and see something cool, we can still share pictures and videos. If I make a really nice dinner, I can send them the recipe and they can have a taste (though that last one might depend on their cooking skills).

Of course, it’s not identical to an in-person relationship. We have to put a lot more effort into reaching out to each other and making time to hang out and talk; it won’t happen by accident. We’re both really looking forward to being able to move together, but until then, being together apart isn’t all that bad.

[WESLEY TEXT]

Listen a moment, before you go.

I am only one person. My field of view is limited, as is my experience. Take my advice with a grain of salt, I can’t prepare you for everything. There’s so much more waiting out there for you to uncover, some good, some bad; be sensible.

[CREDITS ‘N’ SHIT]

[livinginfictions]

Pro-Tips From Your Local Call Center Worker

So, I work in a call center, and I’m realizing day by day that people seriously have no idea how these things work and ya’ll are just screwing yourselves (and me) over. I am here to help!

First off, I’m gonna start with asking you all to stop being jerks to outbound (that means we call you) call center workers. I don’t give a flying fuck how annoyed you are that you keep getting called. There are real people on the other end of that line and you are being a real dickhead every time you fuck with us.

I have had people answer the call by screaming at me. I’ve had people answer with fart noises and fake baby cries. I’ve had countless calls where people either hang up the minute I introduce myself or answer the call and hang up right away. I’ve had people respond to me introducing myself by spitting out as many disgusting words they can think of and then hang up on me. I”ve had people answer the call and then just fucking leave the phone on the table so I can HEAR THEM hanging out in the room and fucking ignoring me.

THIS IS NOT FUNNY. It’s a DICK MOVE. I’m a real fucking human being and my job depends on calling you. It’s not MY FAULT that you’re getting called three times a week. It’s not my FAULT that you don’t want to be called at this specific hour. I don’t get to fucking control that, and a lot of times, it’s actually YOUR fault that this is happening.

Now, admittedly, part of that is out of your control, we’re not Allowed to actually tell you that what you’re doing is wrong (not that many people give us a chance). SO, on my own time, without mentioning who I work for, I’m gonna enlighten you.

Reminder that this isn’t the same for all call centers, but the one I work at is affiliated with a ton of companies, and it’s pretty much the same for all of us in the building.

Mistake 1: You just avoid answering the phone at all when you see us calling. This is not going to stop the calls. Every time you do that we have to mark the call as ‘answering machine’ and you get called back. This will go on for weeks or months, depending on the situation. We don’t know whether or not you’re ignoring us on purpose, so we are required to keep calling you. Moreover, we don’t know how many times other people have called you and gotten voicemail. We just see a name on the screen and a number gets auto-called. We aren’t pissing you off on purpose.

Mistake 2: You answer the call and then either instantly, or as soon as you hear the name of the company I’m calling from, hang up without saying anything. Again, this isn’t going to stop the calls. We have no way of knowing (except common sense, which our computers and bosses don’t give a fuck about) whether the call dropped or you just bumped the hang-up button or you hung up on purpose. We’re required to put you in for a callback. Even if you wait until we’ve given the whole spiel before hanging up, we still have to put you down for a callback.

Mistake 3: You play stupid games with us by using dumb voices or making us wait while you ‘grab a pencil.’ This shouldn’t need explained. You should know this is fucking mean. Plus, nothing you’re doing is going to stop us from calling you back. All you’re doing is getting someone in huge trouble because their numbers suck but they didn’t have a appropriate reason for hanging up on you and getting back to doing their job.

I get that there’s like a joke post on here about someone who made the call center person they were on the phone with sit there for like 2 hours or whatever, but that’s not how most centers work. I am paid by the hour, but I only make commission if I make sales. And if I don’t make any sales, I can’t just skate by on making my hourly rate because they will fire me for not selling enough. You are not giving me a ‘break’ by wasting my time, you are ruining my efficiency scores and possibly costing me my job.

And before anyone goes on about how call center workers are all scammers anyway, can you just stop? I work for a big name company and guess what? I make a lot of sales from people WHO WANTED me to call. I got a guy the other day who sang my praises because he was so excited that I called him at just the right time and got him what he wanted. Tonight I had a woman who looked forward and relied on us calling because she always forgot to renew her service and us calling was the only way she remembered to do it.

You’re the one who gave us your damn number (unless it was bought from a data miner thingy, which is a whole different thing, but don’t be a dick to those people either.) when you used the service/bought the thing in the first place, so stop getting mad at us for doing what we’re supposed to.

My job performance is judged according to how many sales I make and how many calls I made an hour. (The ‘right’ amount of dials an hour is like 60. that’s one a minute). I’m not interested in wasting your time or my time. I’m not out to get you.

Now that that’s out of the way, here’s how you get the calls to stop.

Solution 1: TELL US. I’m serious. It’s literally that fucking easy. If you aren’t interested in the service we’re calling about, SAY YOU AREN’T INTERESTED. And as a bonus, give us a reason? My managers are a lot more annoyed by 50 ‘general not interested’ calls than they are when I can show some variance and make clear that people are turning me down for specific reasons. It’s too expensive. You prefer doing this thing instead. Whatever it is dude. This will generally remove you from the call listing for that specific promotion or reasoning for them calling. (Which, if you have an account with whoever it is, you will STILL receive calls/emails about ‘account updates’ like you having an outstanding balance. Those will not go away, period, until you do something about it.) If you want to never receive calls from us again then ask us (NICELY DAMN IT) to put you on the Do Not Call list. We are LEGALLY REQUIRED (it’s a federal law) to mark you as DNC and not call you again (except for what I said before about your ‘account updates’)

Solution 2: Update your contact preferences! GO TO THE SITE. Most call centers are calling about a specific service that you probably have an account on, and a website where you can access that account. GO TO IT.  If you can’t find it, google it! 90% of these will have account settings you can adjust to not receive calls. Hell, you can remove your phone number from it entirely AND your email address if you want. Take control of your own life.

That’s it. That’s how you do it. Literally those two things. Neither of which include calling me names or screaming at me about ‘you people keep calling me.’ Neither of which would take you more than like five fucking minutes and would save you from getting dozens of calls.

And sometimes there’s gonna be mistakes. I accidentally called a woman tonight who was on our dnc list already and she was pissed. But I don’t pick my calls. I have no idea why I got her name. It was entirely out of my control. Also, sometimes you keep getting calls after you asked to be put on the dnc list because you have multiple accounts. If you’re still getting promotional calls or emails after you changed your preferences, let us know (nicely) when we call and we can help you check to see if there’s multiple accounts under your name (from previous subscriptions or years or whatever) and we can add those to the list too. If you’re really desperate to get us to stop calling, legit just lie. Tell us it’s a wrong number. Tell us you don’t own the vehicle/tv/radio/whatever the hell we’re calling about anymore. That pretty much instantly makes us not call you again. We don’t want to bug people who aren’t our actual clients.

More pro-tips:

1. When someone is calling you with promotional offers, we’re supposed to offer you a specific package/deal. If you tell us it’s too expensive or ask if we have something cheaper, oftentimes we do and it’s a hundred times less than you would get if you just called in and asked how much the service/thing would be. We are promotional and everything is supposed to be Ridiculously cheap. But we can’t tell you outright most of the time. You have to ask. My center doesn’t even give bonuses for upsells, so I legit give no fucks about giving you my cheapest package, whether the bosses like it or not.

2. Don’t be so afraid of the ‘automatic renewal’ thing. It’s just like Netflix, guys, your subscription is automatically renewed so you don’t lose the service and have to call in every month. Take the promo offer, and mark in your calendar (or ask if we have ‘billing reminders’ that you can opt into) to call in and cancel your subscription. They’ll most likely offer you more deals and you can keep things really insanely cheap. Just don’t be a jerk about it. We want to help you.

3. If you do make a purchase and the person on the phone starts talking in monologues about what you ordered and how the billing works, please don’t interrupt, or if you do, understand that we might have to repeat a phrase or something. Those are usually disclosures we’re required to read to you, and if we get interrupted there are certain trigger words that a robot scans for to make sure we’re complying with our company’s policy. We have to say them or we get fired. I know it’s long-winded and kinda awkward, and sometimes we have to repeat them over and over if the account or payment method or whatever gets changed before we can get through the whole sale. We don’t like it either.

4. If you’re worried about a business that’s calling you being a scam (I once turned down a super cheap promotion on renewing my laptop warranty bc I didn’t think the person calling was really from Dell....they were....*sigh*) then just know that most (if not all) legit businesses will verify information with you where they tell you what they already know. Usually it’s your address. This info is what was given to us, either by you or by a third party that you gave the info to, who signed you up (Like when you buy a car from a dealership and they set up your radio for you, not like people who sell your data). We usually also have your e-mail address on file and we’ll read it out to you. You can often ask us to send you an e-mail (a customer agreement or something) to prove that we’re legit too and you can check right then during the call.

5. When you ask us to ‘call you back later,’ it’s worth checking if we can actually be specific about that. My system only lets me put down callbacks in general, I don’t get to pick when you get called. It’s a 24-48 hour window and that’s all I know. I can’t call you tomorrow after 5pm or in an hour when your husband gets home from work, or two weeks from now when you get paid. It’s also not going to be the same person who called you the first time, unless it’s a crazy coincidence. Now, other call centers might be different, so just ask if we can chose when to call you back or if it’s a random thing.

6. I really am sorry when my call is horrible timing. I’ve accidentally called people while they’re sitting in the ER waiting for a family member, or even a few months after the owner of the account has died or something. I wasn’t trying to make your life more difficult, I’m just trying to feed myself and maybe sell you something you’ll enjoy.

Please just remember that call center workers are people, we’re tired too, we’ve probably been yelled at at least once that day, and we’re not trying to make your life harder. Work with us, and hopefully it’ll make both our lives easier.

[isolavirtuosa]

Unlikely Office Romances 1-2

[fanfiction] Gundam Wing, 1x2x1, probably PG-13ish though there are some mildly sexy times and the usual trashmouth

Dr. Heero Yuy, Preventers forensics expert, can’t seem to get over his crush on his former wartime comrade Agent Duo Maxwell.  Agent Duo Maxwell can’t seem to stand the sight of him... and yet...?

I was so excited to be posting this story which I started writing 4 years ago, but then I realized who is even the audience for this ahahahaha

Parts 1-2

- 1 -

             “Ugh.”

           I glanced up from playing solitaire on my computer, eyes locking with Andrea Schultz’s, the agent whose desk was next to mine.

           “What’s up?” I asked, tilting my head inquisitively.

           “Yuy incoming,” she muttered, turning back to her own computer and attempting to look busy.

           I tried to shrink down the solitaire window, but it was already too late.

           “Fooling around like usual,” came Heero’s nasally, judgmental voice from behind me.

           I practically jumped out of my seat. “Christ, Heero!  You’re such a goddamn creep!”

           “Ballistics report from the Myers Case,” he said, dropping a folder on my desk.

           “Great,” I muttered, flipping open the file and taking a look.

           I could feel Heero still hovering behind me.

           I turned slowly.  “What?”

           Heero stared at me impassively.

           I shifted.

           “Is the report to your satisfaction?” he asked.

           “Uh, I guess it’s all right,” I said.  “I haven’t exactly read through all…” I paused, flipping through the folder quickly, “eleven pages of it yet.”

           Heero shrugged, continuing to give me his patented creepy stare.

           “Thanks?” I said, wondering if that would be the magic word to get him to go away.

           Heero abruptly turned around and left.

           Andrea let out a sigh of relief.

           “God he’s such a freak,” I muttered, tossing the folder aside and turning back to my solitaire game.

           “I don’t know how you can deal with him,” Andrea said, shaking her head.  I’d seen her stare down a crazy neo-Nazi terrorist holding a bigass shotgun without even blinking an eye, but for some reason she was completely freaked out by the mere presence of all five foot three of Heero Yuy.

           “I mean, yeah he’s a weirdo, but he’s all right I guess,” I said with a shrug.

           “Heero?” Hilde asked, plunking down a coffee cup on my desk.

           “Hilde, my angel!” I gasped, grabbing the cup and staring at it in elation.  It was from the coffee shop down the street, a vast improvement over the sludge in the break room.

           “Yeah, make it up to me by doing some of my paperwork,” Hilde said, gesturing towards the pile of folders on her desk.

           “But I had a really good game of solitaire going…” I protested.

           “Thanks, Schbeiker,” Andrea said, accepting her cup graciously.  “If there’s anything I can help you with, I’d be happy to.”

           “Suck up,” I muttered, taking a gulp of my coffee.

           “You bet your sweet ass,” Andrea said, nuzzling the coffee against her cheek.  “The things I would do for good coffee…”

           “Just don’t do them in the office,” Sally commented, breezing through the door.

           Wufei, Trowa, and Agent Daniel Warner shuffled in behind her.

           “How was the big downtown meeting?” I asked, twirling my chair around so I could face the new arrivals.

           “Crap,” Trowa said flatly.

           “Waste of time,” Wufei muttered.

           “We got coffee,” Hilde reminded him.

           “Who cares about some damn coffee?” Wufei growled at her, taking a seat at his desk in the back of the office.

           “Anyone with half a brain,” Sally said, sitting on Wufei’s desk and sipping her coffee.

           “Po!” Wufei raged, gesturing wildly at Sally.

           “Yes, Chang?” Sally asked, keeping her back to him and smiling.

           “My desk is not a place for your posterior!” he snapped.

           “Well I’m the boss and I do what I want,” Sally said with a shrug, taking another casual sip of her coffee.  “Maxwell, Schultz, how were things here?”

           “I played a good round of solitaire, ma’am,” I offered.

           “No phone calls, no emails…” Andrea said.

           “No wonder they won’t give us more funding,” Sally said despondently.  “Where’s a psycho terrorist organization bent on taking over the world when you need one…?”

           “Po, do you even listen to what you’re saying?” Wufei asked in disgust.

           “Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Sally said, sliding off of his desk.  “I’ll be in my office conferencing with Une if anyone needs me.”  With that, Sally disappeared into her office and shut the door, leaving the rest of us with a crabby Wufei.

           “What are you all staring at?” Wufei growled. “Get back to work!”

           “But there is no work…” I pointed out.

           “Did you finish everything for the Myers case to go to court?”

           “Well, I mean mostly kind of sort of…”

           “Finish it.”

           I rolled my eyes, picking up the folder that Heero had brought me as I prepared to enjoy eleven pages of godawful drudgery.

           “Duooo,” Andrea said, spinning around in her chair. “Wanna go out tonight?”

           “What did you have in mind?” I asked, eyes flicking over the report.

           “Marty’s?” she suggested.

           “We always go to Marty’s,” I said.  I was tired of the same old bar with the same old drinks and the same old people.

           “There’s a new club on the main line,” Hilde interjected.

           “No more tabletop dancing,” I said, waving the suggestion off.

           “That was one time,” Hilde said with narrowed eyes.

           “And now we all have it burned in our retinas,” I said, putting down the file and crossing my arms over my chest.

           “Or burned on our hard drives,” Daniel said, waggling his eyebrows at Hilde.

           Hilde made a disgusted face at him.

           “We could go to Finnegan’s,” Trowa suggested.

           “No way!” everyone chorused.

           “I like Finnegan’s,” Trowa protested.

           “We know!” we all chorused back at him.

           “We could go to that Chinese place,” Andrea put in. “Their scorpion bowls are really good.”

           “Or that dive bar on Sixth Street.”

           “Or Al Fresco.”

           “Or Red Barn.”

           We ended up going to Marty’s.

           “What’s wrong, Duo?” Trowa asked, coming up behind where I was slumped at the bar.

           “I’m in a rut,” I said with a sigh, taking a dejected drink of my beer.

           “No action?” he asked knowingly.

           “None, nada, zippo.”

           “Poor baby.”

           “If you’re not even going to fake sympathy…”

           “You hate liars.”

           “Whatever, unibang.”

           “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Trowa said, ordering another beer and taking a seat next to me.

           “That’s how this friendship works,” I said, swirling my beer around the glass glumly.

           Trowa’s beer arrived and he took a long drink.

           “Holy shit, Tro,” I said, smacking him on the arm.

           He coughed, putting his beer down and giving me a sour look.  “What is your problem?”

           “Look,” I said, trying to contain my mirth as I pointed to the door.

           Trowa squinted, then let out a snort.

           “The Nerd Squad has arrived,” I declared, watching as Heero, Quatre, and Mariemaia, their fellow lab tech, all trooped into the bar.

           “I didn’t know they drank,” Trowa commented. His one eye looked amused.

           “Is it even legal for Mariemaia to drink?”

           “She’s in college now.”

           “Christ, that makes me feel old.”

           “You are old.”

           “Twenty-nine is not old.”

           “That’s like 65 in lion years.”

           “Oh my god, Tro, just go and sit with the nerds.”

           “Lions are cool.”

           “Are you drunk already?”

           “I don’t need to be drunk to know that lions are cool.”

           “Uh-huh,” I said, ordering myself another beer. Clearly I was being left behind in the drinking.

           “Fancy seeing you here.”

           I jumped, my glass clattering on the bar. “Holy fucking shit, Heero, why do you always do that?”

           “Do what?” he asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

           “Sneak up on me.”

           “You must not be very good in the field then,” he said.

           “And you must not be very good at not being an asshole,” I muttered, turning back to face the bar.

           Heero finally got the bartender’s attention and ordered three margaritas.

           “Seriously?” I said.

           “What?” Heero asked, giving me his confused face again.

           “You havin’ a girls’ night or something?” I asked.

           “Well, Mariemaia is a girl…” Heero said, still looking confused.

           “Why do I even talk to you?” I murmured, glancing towards Trowa only to realize that he’d gone back to play pool with Hilde and Andrea.

           Heero continued to stand by me, waiting for his drinks.

           I thought about retreating over to the others, but that seemed cowardly, and I was no coward.  I drank my beer sullenly instead.

           The bartender brought over the three drinks to Heero.  Being Heero, he balanced all three perfectly and turned to carry them back to his table. “See you around.”

           “Uh, yeah, I guess so,” I said, watching him skulk back to his table.

           Quatre and Mariemaia looked frantic, taking their drinks and quickly bowing their heads together, talking and gesturing wildly.

           “Freaks,” I muttered, pushing my empty glass towards the bartender.  I thought about getting another, but after surveying the bar, I decided it was another hopeless night, and that it was time for me to go home.

           “Hey, kids,” I said, going to lean casually against the pool table.

           “You’re leaving?” Hilde asked.

           “Aw, come on, Duo,” Andrea whined.

           “There’s no one for him to bone,” Hilde said, picking up her pool stick and lining up a shot.

           “The lady has a point,” I said, nodding.

           “There are other things to do at bars besides pick up wayward dudes,” Andrea said.  She’d barely been at the Preventers a year, so I could excuse her not knowing how everything she had just said was wrong.

           “Oh, Andrea,” I said, shaking my head.

           “You and Heero were looking pretty friendly earlier,” Trowa said casually.

           I shuddered.  “Don’t make jokes like that.”

           “He’s basically your type,” Trowa said.

           “Has a dick and is breathing?” Hilde chimed in.

           “Check and check on both accounts,” Trowa said with a nod.

           “I hate you both,”

           “Really?  Yuy?” Andrea asked, wrinkling your nose.  “He’s such a nerd.”

           “He’s got a great ass, though,” Hilde put in.

           “You can tell because he’s always wearing spandex,” Trowa added helpfully.

           “He’s wearing women’s skinny jeans tonight,” Hilde said, trying to keep a straight face.  “Just how I like it.”

           “Why is Hilde hitting on Yuy?” Daniel asked, appearing behind us.

           “She’s trying to fight Duo for him,” Trowa said.

           Daniel shrugged.  “He’s a good-looking guy, I guess.”

           “I thought you were straight,” Andrea said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

           “If I say that I’m confused and that I need you to come home with me to help clear up my sexuality, would you come?”

           “No.”

           “Then yes, I am very heterosexual, and am merely sharing an objective opinion on the attractiveness of another human being.”

           I stayed quiet because I didn’t want to think about how somewhere behind his unkempt hair and terrible fashion, Heero Yuy actually was pretty attractive.  And during the war…

           What a horrible thought.  I needed to get laid.

           “Yeah, I’m out of here,” I said, waving to everyone.

           “I’ll walk with you,” Trowa offered.

           “Stay,” I said, waving him off, but he followed me anyway.

           We walked down the dark street, spotted with drunks, heading towards the station.

           “Do you want to go to Second Street?” Trowa ventured.

           “Nah, not in the mood,” I said.

           “When are you ever not in the mood for gay bars?” Trowa asked, arching his brow.

           “Just seems pointless,” I said, looking straight ahead as we walked.

           “Is Duo Maxwell looking to settle down?”

           “Is that what this is?”

           “It’s either that, or it’s time for Viagra…”

           “Shit, isn’t there an option C?”

           “Nope.”

           I hesitated.  “Do you ever think about it?”

           “About Viagra?” Trowa asked.  “No, I’m quite virile.”

           I punched him in the shoulder in annoyance. “Settling down and shit.  Finding a guy.  Buying curtains together or whatever the hell it is that couples do.”

           “That sounds incredibly boring.”

           “Yeah,” I agreed.

           We parted ways at the station, and I went home alone.

 - 2 -

             I watched Duo leave the bar.

           “Go after him,” Mariemaia hissed, giving me a push.

           “No,” I said sullenly, picking up my drink and taking a long sip.

           “After we came all the way here…” Mariemaia said exasperatedly.

           “At least we got these delicious drinks,” Quatre said with a dreamy smile.  He was already completely intoxicated.

           “I can’t believe you just gave up like that!” Mariemaia said with a loud huff.

           “I know an impossible scenario when I see one.”

           Mariemaia crossed her arms over her chest. “Really?  Asking a coworker to have a drink together is an impossible scenario?”

           “Duo Maxwell is not interested in me,” I said flatly.

           “That’s why you need to make him interested!” she said, slapping her hands on the table.

           “Why are teenage girls so…?” I said, searching for an adequate word.

           “Wonderful?  Beautiful? Amazing?” Mariemaia suggested through gritted teeth.

           “Aggressive,” I decided.  “Very aggressive.”

           “Maybe you’re just weak.”

           I stared at her.

           “Well, you’re too scared to even ask a guy out.”

           “She has a point,” Quatre agreed, pointing at me with a drunken finger.  “I can’t believe you’re afraid of Duo.”

           “I’m not afraid of Duo.”

           “Then why don’t you ask him out?” Quatre countered, raising his drink to his mouth and missing.

           I was tired of the circular logic, so I didn’t answer.

           Mariemaia sighed, leaning back in her chair and staring at me.

           I stared back, and I could see she was doing her best not to look away.  She was always stubborn like that.

           I was more stubborn.

           After almost five minutes of it, Mariemaia finally gave up with an exasperated huff.  “You’re so stupid.”

           “I’m a certified genius,” I responded.

           “That doesn’t make you any less stupid.”

           “That is a logical fallacy.”

           Mariemaia looked like she still wanted to fight, but then she looked confused.  “Where did Quatre go?”

           We both looked around and immediately spotted Quatre at the bar.

           “Is he getting more drinks?” Mariemaia asked, squinting at him.

           “This mission needs to be aborted,” I said, standing up and going over to collect Quatre.

           Mariemaia sighed and pulled on her coat.  She’d known me long enough to know that she had pushed me as far as she could.

           We all walked towards the station together, Quatre much drunker than I had expected him to be.

           Of course, it had been a very long time since he had gone drinking.  We had our work, and it didn’t leave much time for socializing.

           Also, there was the fact that we were socially inept. That put a damper on the whole socializing thing.

           This had all been a very stupid idea.

           Quatre leaned against Mariemaia, and she linked arms with him, trying to support him as she limped along.  The function in her legs had been damaged when Dekhim shot her during the Barton uprising, and despite years of physical therapy, she walked with a limp.

           “I want you both to forget about this nonsense,” I finally said as we stood in line waiting for the next train.

           “No way,” Mariemaia said.  “We’re getting you a man.”

           Quatre nodded empathetically, then looked a little queasy.

           “I don’t want a man,” I said, feeling annoyed.

           Mariemaia and Quatre both snorted.

           “This from the guy with a creepy-ass stalker scrapbook,” Mariemaia said.

           I tried to kill her with my eyes.

           “Careful, Maia,” Quatre said, still laughing. “It’s not a creepy-ass stalker scrapbook, it’s a collection of newspaper clippings about an old comrade.”

           I regretted living with Une and Mariemaia during my university studies.  I also regretted Mariemaia looking under my bed and finding the collection of newspaper clippings about my old comrade Duo Maxwell.  I especially regretted her telling Quatre about it.

           “I think he’s mad at us,” Quatre tried to whisper, his voice coming out very loudly as we got on the train.

           I stood by the door, and Mariemaia and Quatre came to stand near me.

           “You should sit,” I told Mariemaia.

           “I’m fine,” she said, giving me an annoyed look.

           I shrugged.

           “Heero…” she said in her melodramatic teenage way.

           I let my eyes meet hers.

           “I just want you to be happy.”

           “I’m fine,” I said.

           “You’re not fine at all, you’re kind of a creepy weirdo.”

           I frowned.

           “I mean that in a fond way.”

           “That doesn’t make it better.”

           “Well then try leaving your apartment sometimes.”

           “What am I doing right now?”

           “I forced you to come.”

           The train pulled away from the station with a jerk, and Mariemaia caught herself on one of the poles.

           I gave her A Look.

           “Shut up,” she snarled.  Mariemaia wasn’t one to be held back by her disability, and I admired that about her, except when she was being stupid about it.

           Quatre, who had barely been able to walk to the station on his own, now seemed perfectly poised as the train bumped along. He offered Mariemaia his arm and she gripped it while turning her back to me.

           I needed to get home.

           Quatre got off the train with Mariemaia, saying he’d walk her to her dorm.  I said goodbye, watching them disappear up the stairs as the train sped away.

           I felt like everyone was staring at me.  I turned my glare on, eyes meeting the woman sitting across from me.

           She flinched, looking down and pulling her purse more tightly towards her chest.

           The train finally reached my stop and I hurried up out of the station, heading towards my apartment.  It was a short walk, only five minutes, but my body was thrumming with tension that made the walk seem longer.

           I thought about Duo’s look of disdain when I’d talked to him at the bar.  I thought about him and his friends looking at me and laughing.  I thought about earlier in the day when I’d given him that report at his desk.  How he’d seemed so annoyed and uncomfortable.  Every conversation that we’d had that day kept replaying in my head over and over, making me flinch.  I was so awkward, and everything that came out of my mouth around him was stupid.

           I tried to stop thinking about it, but my thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone.

           I was embarrassed.

           I wondered if Duo knew.  It seemed so obvious, the three of us showing up at the bar we knew he always went to.  The way I’d approached him.  The way I always seemed to get tongue-tied around him.

           It had all started another lifetime ago. Duo and I had been close during the war, in our own way.  I still irritated him then, but he seemed almost affectionate in his exasperation. I considered him a friend, even if I never vocalized it.

           Things started to change when Duo was captured and imprisoned.  I was sent to execute him, but found I couldn’t do it.

           As I patched him up after our escape, Duo looked so broken.  I was momentarily distracted from my single-minded focus on the war, reaching out to push Duo’s sweaty bangs from his eyes.

           He flinched, touching the bandages on his ribs that I had just finished taping up.

           I felt strange.  My hand slid from his forehead to his cheek, cupping it gently. My skin tingled where it touched his.

           Duo’s eyes drifted up to meet mine.

           I didn’t know why I was touching him, but I didn’t take my hand away.

           Duo’s hand slowly inched out, resting on my hip.

           We didn’t speak.

           We didn’t move.

           And then there was a buzzing from the radio, and the moment was over.

           I didn’t think any more about it until after the war, but even then I couldn’t make sense of it.

           We met again during the Barton uprising. Duo was the same old Duo, and I felt at ease working with him.  But as we prepared to go into enemy territory, he’d stopped me, touching my hand and murmuring, “Be careful.”

           Once again, his skin on mine left a tingling sensation.

           I found myself aimless after the war.  Une approached me about joining the Preventers, but I told her that I was done with fighting.

           She told me that there were other ways to save the world.

           I went to school, first studying engineering, which was incredibly boring, then switching to medical science and forensics. After graduating, I joined the Preventers as a laboratory technician.  I enjoyed the work and found it fulfilling.

           Sometimes I thought about Duo.

           The other former gundam pilots drifted into the Preventers one by one.  First was Wufei after the Barton Uprising, then Quatre and I as lab techs.  Next came Trowa, drawn in by the guerilla skirmishes happening on L3 that led to an attack on his circus.

           Duo was last, joining only two years ago. His previous job as a bounty hunter frequently brought him in conflict with the Preventers.  Those conflicts usually cost Duo money, and after a fight in Une’s office heard all around Preventer’s headquarters, Duo came out wearing a uniform and badge.

           No one knew how Une had finally tamed Duo, but his entry into the Preventers had been like a hurricane.

           Seeing Duo in the flesh every day cleared up any confusion I had once held about why his touch made my skin tingle and why I kept a collection of newspaper clippings about his bounty hunting exploits under my bed.

           I was attracted to Duo Maxwell.

           It was a confusing thing with which I had no experience.  But I was pleased with an explanation for something that had been plaguing me for years.

           This was attraction.  This was… love.

           Duo barely even glanced my way.

           Whatever had been between us during the war was gone, and now Duo was impossibly far away.

           I put the key into my door, opening it with an immense feeling of relief.

           I was home.

           I yanked off my shirt and tossed it into the hamper in my room, followed by my pants.  Down to only my boxers, I padded over to the cage on the bookshelf.

           “Sorry I’m late, Gray,” I said, handing a treat to the gray hamster.  “Sorry, Brown,” I said, handing another treat to the brown one.

           They just chewed on their sunflower seeds, seemingly unaffected by my lateness.

           I flipped open my laptop and turned it on. I walked over to the kitchen and poured a glass of water, then returned to the laptop.  I opened the internet browser, squinting into the backlight. My hand fumbled over the desk for my glasses, shoving them up the bridge of my nose.

           Most of the physical enhancements I had gone through during my training were permanent.  I still had physical strength and endurance beyond the capacity of a normal human being.  I just had terrible eyesight.  Une was always telling me I spent too much time in front of the computer screen.

           I took a drink of water as my tabs loaded. I needed to rehydrate after the alcohol consumption of the evening.

           The screen was suddenly inundated with messages. It seemed my latest posting as ‘WingPilot01’ had been very popular on the Gundam 00 message board.

           I settled more comfortably into my chair.

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #21

UPDATE 21: The School vs Taylor and Danny Hebert

Last time Taylor had finally hit Emma in the face. The problem is that she did this in front of Emma’s father, her own father, the general public and Shadow Stalker. All in all, it could have gone better. The silver lining is that now she’s telling her father everything that’s going on at school, I think, so let’s continue!

Nnnnevermind, she’s not doing that. It seems it happened off-screen. Given that now Taylor and Dad Hebert are waiting to enter to the principal’s office, he reacted as I thought he would: taking this seriously and arranging a meeting with the principal. Nice! I don’t have much faith on this ending 100% well for Taylor, but who knows, maybe it’ll happen. Not long after we’d arrived, Emma and her dad had showed up, looking totally casual and unstressed, like it was a regular day. She isn’t even worried. Oh. If she isn’t worried then...okay, the meeting hasn’t started, maybe I’m jumping the gun a bit on this not having a satisfying resolution. I’ll keep hoping for the best.

Madison and her family have the decency to be worried, although Emma’s father seems to be trying to reassure them. Sophia arrives with someone who’s not her mother – adoptive mother, perhaps? – so it’s turn for Taylor and Dad Hebert to come in. Emma’s father is a lawyer, therefore he knows how to manipulate the system, or at least that’s what Dad Hebert says. After getting a phone call from my dad, Alan had been the one to call this meeting. ...okay, now I’m completely sure this won’t end well for Taylor. This has to be a trap. No wonder Emma is so calm! She must know what this all is about. I don’t know what kind of person this Alan man is, but I feel inclined to distrusting the purpose of this meeting. Give me a minute here to pick up my stress toy because maybe I’ll need it.

Everyone sits to the table and it’s rather telling that pretty much everyone except a teacher is sitting on the site opposite to Taylor and Dad Hebert. It’s them against the world, and we all know who has the advantage here. I was nervous.  I had told my dad that I’d missed classes.  I hadn’t told him how many, but I hadn’t wanted to repeat Bitch’s mistake and leave him totally in the dark. That’s a sensible move...at least he knows she has been skipping classes. What I wonder now is if he asked what she did during the time she was supposed to be at class. Hang around the library or something? It’s not like Taylor can see she was spending time with her friends instead of being with friends. Dad Hebert is quite understanding, but it’d be good to avoid saying anything that could point at the rest of the Undersiders being bad influences on Taylor.

Sophia is a troublesome person, who’d have guessed, right? So, Alan did arrange this meeting so this matters could be put to rest through the official channels. Taylor Hebert, time for your testimony. She’s encouraged to tell the major incidents, but instead she goes for every incident...because apparently she has been keeping track of that. Really? First time I hear of it. It’s a big paragraph, thick as a brick in comparison to the two-line and one-line things dialogue above it. And that’s just for one single day. Golly.

Taylor only gets to the middle of the second day when the principal interrupts her, saying they don’t have time to listen to every single incident. Really now? Well she’s not wrong, otherwise they’d be here for the rest of the day. That’s how much Taylor has been tormented.

Alan spoke, “I think we all grasp that it’s been unpleasant.  You’ve established that, and I thank you for the insight. But how many of those incidents can you prove?  Were those emails sent from school computers?”

Here comes the legal beaglery! Let me guess, she can’t. Hard to prove someone dumped pencil sharpener shavings on her head a few months ago. Taylor’s best chance is to appeal for the principal to believe her, but that’s quite difficult. This kind of stuff relies on evidence, and there’s very little decisive proof here. Not even printing the emails is enough, because they came from throwaway accounts. At least she can prove she’s being bullied, that much can’t be denied now. It’s not like she can fake stuff that has been happening for months!

Just like that, most of Taylor’s work has been dismissed as useless. Damn it, I hate when this happens! Thankfully, there’s one incident Taylor can prove, and it’s one we did see by ourselves here in the story.

“Two weeks ago, Mr. Gladly approached me,” I addressed the room, “He verified that some things had occurred in his class.  My desk had been vandalized with scribbles, juice, glue, trash and other stuff on different days.  Do you remember, Mr. Gladly?”

I really hope you won’t have the gall to deny something you said, Mr. Disney Movie Teacher. He doesn’t, he just kind of distorts what Taylor had said, sidestepping the part that he did see harassment in action.

“No,” the principal spoke, “But I think that when someone is being victimized, it’s possible to embellish events, or to see harassment when there is none.  We want to ensure that these three girls get fair treatment.” Nothing wrong with fair treatment for everyone, yeah, but implying Taylor is making up stuff to get them in more trouble is...well that’s not going to help. Taylor wasn’t wrong, this is a farce of a meeting. This is the kind of thing that’s difficult for me to read...because it’s the most plausible parts. Powers and all is fun, even if it gets to the gory and bleak parts, but this here is something that can happen to pretty much anyone. Maybe some of the readers of Worm even experienced it at some point. That’s why it’s harder to read this, because it can happen.

Shut up, Alan, you’re not helping. He doesn’t outright say Taylor is lying, but he’s really implying it – even daring to bring up Taylor’s mother’s death. Like father, like daughter, really. That’s playing dirty. No wonder Emma was so calm.

Since everyone has pretty much formed a wall around themselves and refused to do anything about Taylor, Alan goes for the jugular and asks what exactly Taylor and Dad Hebert want. “Transfer me to Arcadia High.” Really? Well I didn’t expect that! But now that the surprise is gone, I must say that’s quite a good answer. Better to get away from them and try to start anew in a new crowd. It’s not like Taylor has anything in this school she’s going to miss, so...yeah, I like this move! Nice. Looks like most here were expecting to hear she wanted them to be expelled from the school. I for one am hoping the principal will agree to transfer Taylor!

Giving them freedom through expulsion or suspension wouldn’t be good, since it’d be like a reward for those three – that’s Taylor’s opinion. I kinda agree to that. If it were up to her there’d be suspension in-school for two months, and that’d be quite a sizable punishment, but...yeah, I don’t see that happening. I hate to say it, but taking the easy route about transferring to another school is more likely to work.

Once again, shut up, Alan. This is no time for jokes about no punishment at all.

Since it’s extremely obvious there has been bullying but most of the incidents can’t be proven, the principal proposes a two week suspension. I sigh. Guess it’ll be no punishment for them, then. This is exactly what Taylor didn’t want.

She hadn’t mentioned the classes.  I wondered if she even knew. Taylor really is like invisible to everyone except the bullies, eh? Nobody here mentions Taylor has avoided her classes. Once another reason to transfer to Arcadia High, maybe there Taylor won’t be a non-entity. Since suspension is the one thing on the table here, Taylor gives up on that regard and accepts it, because otherwise it’d be like ramming her head against a brick wall.

Just transfer me to Arcadia.  Let me walk away from this.”

“That’s not really something I can do,” the principal said, “There’s jurisdictions-”

Hm. Alright, question time, dear readers. I’m not knowledgeable about the American educational system, but is there anything stopping Dad Hebert from pulling out Taylor from the actual school and transferring her to Arcadia High? Because that’s what’d be done around here where I live, one wouldn’t have to rely on the school to do something. The one obstacle I can think of is that there could be no space for a student in a classroom, but that’s usually solvable. Maybe I’m missing something about this American school system.

Wow, Taylor is seriously starting to lose her self-control, and I doubt it’s because of the concussion. She’s reaching her limit. Everyone’s lucky there’s not a swarm of bugs in the room right now. Taylor even threatens to bring a weapon to the school, and pretty much begs for her own expulsion. Damn...

Since it’s obvious nobody except Dad Hebert is on Taylor’s side, things get heated, with Dad Hebert threatening to get the media involved, and Alan threatening to press charges on Taylor for assault and threats. It’d lead to a drawn out legal battle that’d end only when a side runs out of money – and I can already guess which side it’d be.

I looked at my teachers.  At Mrs. Knott, who I’d even say was my favorite teacher, “Don’t you see how fucked up this is? He’s blackmailing us right in front of you, and you can’t understand that this manipulation has been going on from the beginning?”

I hate to say it, but I’m afraid Alan’s move, while dirty is...completely legal. Taylor did pretty much assault Emma. Charges may be pressed anytime, and there’s evidence to back them up. It’s not really blackmail. Not that it matters, because this sucks. I fully sympathize with Taylor on this. There she goes, pretty much kicking the door on her way out, and immediately calling Lisa.

“We’re gearing up for a raid on the ABB.  We didn’t bother you about it because you’re still recovering, and I knew you’d be busy with your meeting at school.  Want in?”

Want in? Right now she’d be more than willing to go for another bank robbery, I’d say! Yeah, let’s let out steam through some good old fighting! While Taylor was trying to straighten up her life, everyone else was arranging teams for an attack on the ABB. I wonder which group Taylor would be with? Let’s hope it’s not with Skidmark!

“Every team is splitting up, bit complicated to explain, but yeah.  Bitch would be going with one or two members of the Travelers, some of Faultline’s crew and probably some of Empire Eighty-Eight.  It would do a lot for our peace of mind if you went with. ‘specially with the tension between us and the Empire.”

...uh...alright, whose idea was to stick Heckpuppy with E88? I guess it’s fine as long as the owner of that dogfighting ring isn’t part of the team, or else this can’t end well. At least Taylor will be there. It’s a good chance as any to get scenes between Rachel and Taylor, maybe they’ll stop being cold to each other. Taylor already started trying to get closer to her, will Rachel accept it? I hope she does! That’s the end of the chapter.

I think I have time for one chapter more, so I’ll go ahead with it. The main course of this arc is coming now!

Yeah, they’re getting ready for their missions, dressing with their costumes. “The idea Coil proposed was that we would mix and match the members of the groups, so nobody can pull anything without their teammates being hostage to the other groups.” Good thinking, Coil. You can never trust a bunch of teams each with their own criminal goals and vendettas. I guess it also means it was unlikely for Heckpuppy not be in contact with someone from E88, yeah. There are arrangements for the Undersiders to check with each other, and codes in case there’s trouble and they need to be subtle. Think traffic lights.  Green for go, everything is okay.  Yellow for warning, if you aren’t sure about things.  Red for stop, need help. That’s...that can work. For a moment I had thought they had said to name the color, not an object of that color, I was already typing how obvious it was. Hah! Good thing I reread the lines, that’d have been embarrassing.

Tattletale’s going in the team that has Faultline. Hah! Of course she is. I bet that if Shadow Stalker was a villain and she was part of this plan too, she’d be in Grue’s group because Mr. Wildbow seems to be rather interested in putting rivals with rivals. Everyone ready? There are going to be daily attacks, these will be busy days! Hit hard, hit fast, get out of there.  If you aren’t making much of a dent, don’t sweat it. Perfect. This’ll also be a good chance for me to see what other villain factions can do in terms of power. This is likely to be good! Show me your best, Mr. Wildbow!

“Don’t show her any weakness, or she won’t let up on you.” At this point I’m completely sure Skitter has enough strength not to show weakness in front of Heckpuppy no matter what. She’ll be okay. Not that anyone’s happy with the arrangements, Heckpuppy spends the trip in the van just glaring daggers at Skitter. What a marvelous start for this mission, eh? Things are going to go just peachy in here.

Remembering my bugs, I took a few seconds to extend my powers outward and begin gathering them.  I was surprised at how far my reach was extending.  I generally measured things in city blocks – I’ve never been good at eyeballing distance – and I would say my range usually sat at around two blocks. Today I was reaching just shy of three and a half.

Hmmm...hey, what if Bakuda’s bomb is responsible for this? It affected Skitter’s brain or something, didn’t it? You know, to stun her and all. What if it accidentally gave a boost to Skitter’s powers? I really hope the concussion isn’t doing this, or else Skitter may lose such boost once she’s healed. Skitter wonders why she’s a bit more powerful and accidentally makes puns, then turns her attention to how Heckpuppy uses her power on the dogs. It was like seeing a sausage split its casing—ooooookay, that’s enough, Skitter, a bit too descriptive for me. Somehow, hearing about something bursting out of its skin when we’re talking about living beings is giving me the heebie-jeebies.

The point of reunion for the team Heckpuppy and Skitter are part of is at the other side of a bridge destroyed by the ABB. Is everyone else over there? It’s a matter of passing through the rubble of the bridge until they reach that, not too difficult. The dogs are even having fun.

Wow, I’m surprised Heckpuppy is trying to make small talk, noting Skitter is angry. Trying to reach out to Skitter, perhaps? “Should hit ’em.  Teach them to fuck with you.” Good news, she did that. Bad news, it pretty much screwed her over. Good news, now Dad Hebert knows everything that’s going on. All in all, the only reward was momentary satisfaction, and that can be enough. Our detour had given the flying bugs time to catch up to me.  Wasps, moths, houseflies, no-see-ums, a few bees and a fair few cockroaches. The heck is a no-see-um. I googled it to find out, and I regret it. Take a lesson from me: photos of no-see-um bites or whatever are not pleasant to look at. You have a lot of courage, Taylor, stuffing so many bugs in the nooks and crannies of your costume.

All the other capes were already waiting. Hello, Kaiser, fancy meeting you again! He has his Valkyries with him. From Faultine’s crew there’s Newter and Labyrinth. I once received a comment asking why I hadn’t seemed surprised about Newter and...someone else. Honestly? I don’t remember who they are. I blame the introduction of a couple dozen characters at once. I wonder what kind of powers they have, though. I do note that Newter is orange, literally orange. What’s up with that, hmmmm...

The attack is scheduled to start in five minutes. Is that really enough time to decide the method of attack? There’s a lot of people here, it may be a tad difficult to coordinate everything in so little time. Not that there’s really any other option, it’s a necessary thing to do.

Oh, come on, don’t describe the body horror again, Skitter! Once was enough! I really didn’t want to hear about sprays of gore on people, but here you go and say that. It’s a surprise Kaiser stepped back, though. I didn’t think he’d be taken by surprise. I can’t blame him, though, what an unpleasant thing to see.

Everyone’s going in direction to the attack they’re going to do now. This is a good point to stop, I’m guessing next time the attack will happen. Great! Can’t wait for that. See you next time, everyone!

Next update: next time

[everyywishhcountss]

Ramblings of 25

It has been a long time since I have wrote to you, whomever you may be. Perhaps my older, wiser self, at a much later point in my life. Tonight, another sleepless and tear filled night, I write to you. I’ve accomplished many things since we last connected, finding myself at a completely different place in my life. And yet, unfortunately, some things remain very much the same.

I find myself troubled and unable to sleep, tonight. Yet again. My thoughts will not be snuffed even while I lay with the intent of sleep and the hope to obtain rest. For this reason, I fail myself most nights when attempting to sleep. I can thank my poor, persistent mind for this. I find myself sleeping alone more, which unfortunately no longer helps. For a bit, when the snoring, barking, and routine were silenced, I could sleep. Almost never a good, deep sleep, but sleep nonetheless. Now, I find myself alone with my thoughts, which awakens me far more than the other distractions ever have.

Tonight my restless mind wanders to family and superficial nuisances. I will start with regards to family. I’m recently married and will obtain a new last name along with the burdens it carries. Those burdens, perhaps, are those I associate with the name, not necessary ones that all who bear it share. It has been over three months since our union and legally my name remains the same. Given the current climate of the virus and the universal shutdown, it has taken us longer to set legal changes into effect. But it would be merely an excuse, a lie even, to say that is why the process has been stalled. I hate this family. I suffer great hesistancy and resent to brand myself with this name because of the others who are associated with it. I want to bear the name for my husband because it is his, therefore I want it to be mine and our children’s. But taking on this name, signing it daily, makes my heart hurt for many more reasons than I care to admit. What a conviluded and diabolical family associated to this name, so many factions, opinions, expectations...and so much hurt. Marrying the man, the love of my life, was the easy part. Our life together, the laughter, love, travel, planning for the future; that is so beautifully easy. It gets complicated when those surrounding this name, this family, comes into play. Which, happens far more than it doesn’t.

I find it very hard to breathe when forced with situations where I have to be unfaithfully pleasant. I am a very blunt person, but respectfully so. I have a very strong character, which deters and poses as a threat to many. In this family, I have been blacklisted for this very same reason. Since day one I have done nothing but take the responsibility of, and allegiance to my husband, very seriously. My love for him makes my fierce innate loyalty that much easier, but it also enables my conviction of those who hurt him. As painful as it is for him, it also hurts me to admit that his family is insufferably cruel and without remorse. Experiencing this for the longer part of 9 years has taken a great toll on me. As well as it has on him, his whole life. Defending him, protecting him, loving him through the pain has all been so extremely worth it, but grave. It is an impossible battle, position within the family, and life that I have assumed. Tireless, indignant, unreproachful, this reality is. In the beginning, so they’ve recently mentioned, I tried too hard to be a part of the family. I was welcomed by exclusivities, snye remarks, and distasteful conversations. This distaste they held for me, morphed into something much more stronger when they witnessed the strength of my character, our relationship, and their future. Brazen conversations with my husband alone became a theme amongst many members of the family to manipulate me out of the picture, rude interactions- corrrections even began happening to my face in front of many. This test only strengthened and solidified our bond, but in no way made it easier for our relationship within the dynamic of the family. Then it became the accusation that I wanted nothing to do with the family. For I am believed to be “taking him away” and poorly influencing him “to be too independent”, as if creating a life together that does not center around them, is unreasonable. Especially after years of volatile discord. Lashing out at both of us soon commenced. After a time, of many actions on both sides, fakeness became decided upon. Only lapsing to hurt us, when it really counted. Reason, logic, reasonable effort has been made to amend and create anew a dynamic that includes us. But to no avail. So, here I sit before you a married woman, at a crossroads and an impass of emotion. I’ve done well to navigate this life thus far, on my own. Yet, here I sit feeling that same way, though I shouldn’t be, alone.

My husband is a beautiful man, inside and out. The kindest soul, biggest heart, funny, impulsive, dependable, witty, but far too dependent on others and eager to please. I accept his faults, and love him even more so for them. In this particular context, the dependency and need to please and gain approval from him family, even given all they’ve done- bewilders me. It consumes me because I cannot understand it. Some would think that to be my fault, because I’ve not known my own family in a long time. But, I’ve known and experienced many families because of that harsh reality. Through friendships and prior relationships, I’ve seen a lot. And yet this family, has me thoroughly confused.

The animosity within, and for those outside of the family is troubling. They mean to paint a picture for those beyond the immediacy of themselves, and through their devotion to uphold that image they neglect and break each other. Never truly addressing the issues at bay, and forever complying with the roles they’ve assigned. Unfortunately, for my husband, he’s been awarded the doormat of the family. The middle child, the butt of every joke. For a very long time, he alike the others, fell in line with the position awarded to him. When he met me, I think he learned, very slowly and thankfully, how he should be loved, cared for, treated, and respected. He learned that having an opinion and sharing it was okay. Disagreeing on things, being different, was okay. Desiring for things, wanting things for himself, was okay. That who he is, wanted to be, will be will always be okay and supported. And that he would be loved, without anything in return. That love and loyalty is not a transaction, but a promise, a vow. Something he should have known, long before me. Nevertheless, as realization set in for him, discord and anger did as well for his familial counterparties. As they’ve worked together to uphold an image, they also unified to cast me out. As my husbands family went to war with my husband, they learned that he was not as blindly allieged as they’d thought. And I learned, that my husband has never truly stopped seeking their approval or naively wishing they’ll change. For every time an exchange with them goes smoothly, he sees that as an instance they’ve changed. A step in the right direction, finally. And whilst, as they always do, follow up with something exhaustingly cruel or hurtful after, that beautiful man tries to see the good. For this, as I said previously, I do love him. I am sometimes, too harsh a judge, or too quick to be rid of someone or something. I adore that we are different in that way. I had to be fierce, strong, and sure to survive, while my husband was allowed to grow to love people, become personable, and award the benefit of the doubt. But it pains me, to consistently watch the yo-yo action of his heart at the hands of his family. I do not understand the need to love and belong to people who hurt you. View you as lesser than, and unapologetically project that opinion. Toxic people are just that, toxic. I learned that very quickly, very young. In my eyes, family can be just as, if not more, toxic to a person than an outsider.

The manipulation, the lies, secrets, misdoings, will never go unchecked in my eyes. The count carries a heavy burden on my shoulders, which I happily carry for my husband. Enduring, however, is the part I struggle with. Clearly, sleeplessness is a result. One that I’ve become all too familiar with, yet again. Whether its wading through the requests, brushing off another comment or speculation, dreading an encounter, or simply wishing for an easier situation, this family is exhausting. I’m tired, I love my husband, and I didn’t marry his family.

On another note, the other nuisances that I’m left thinking of at 4AM. The HOA of our townhouse complex, is persistently bored with their lives and prides themselves on diving into the other residents’. For example, they are in the process of revisiting some of the deeds and restrictions submitted to the authorities as they are ancient, outdated, and unrealistic- of which they agree. One being, the ability to place the trash and recycling bins In front of our homes. The restrictions say that they may not, however, this is unrealistic because in order to place, or retrieve them, from the backyard we would have to escort them to and from all the way around the strip of townhomes. They have acknowledged the excessive nature of this restriction, and sent an email offering the solution of paving the spot where they reside in the front of the house with cement. Mind you, they reside there now, tucked away from the line of sight of the side of the house on maticulously places lattice. No grass grows there due to the high traffic of the bins. And yet, the board offered only the solution of paying 700 dollars to lay concrete over the area in order to have them reside there. And refused to produce the language of the original restriction to see if it mentions the surface the bins reside on or if it simply states they cannot be there. Another instance, we love Christmas. We often leave our Christmas decor up until it comes time to decorate for our birthdays. We received an email stating that the holiday season has been concluded for some time and that the immediate removal of the porch decor (a wreath and some jelly words on the glass door) has been requested. Now, is this a matter of preference, someone complains because they don’t want to see a few decorations of Christmas anymore or again is there specific language to back this up? Is it worth the fight? What troubles me is the tone and demanding nature of the requests, as if because they requested it, it needs to be done without exception or objection. As a young, but grown woman, I don’t remember being told, or agreeing, that I needed to obide or head to anyone other than my parents. We pay our monthly fees, partake in votes as requested, but these feeble matters of interpretation and opinion, that arise because a “board” of retired individuals have nothing better to do, is rather frustrating. I would just like to be left alone. No drama, no demands, to my routine with my husband and without the stress that often keeps me from enjoying the rest that sparsely comes when I intentionally put myself to bed, and can actually sleep.

[moosebehaving]

Hey, long time no blogging.

Let me explain.

My life is boring. Like, last year when my car almost got boosted? I was excited because I was like “WOW now I have a story for the next TEN YEARS.”

I am not an exciting person. I go to bed at 11:30 every night, and I watch YouTube videos while I floss. I stay home on weekends and say words like “comfy pants” and “I think that’s on Netflix” too often.

So there’s just not a lot to talk about.

With the exception of what happened last week.

So let’s tell the story, since that’s the only thing I know how to do. I have had the same car for seven years. It was my first car, and I bought it in 2011 when I was 19, despite everything I did to not get it. I was so reluctant, because I knew it wasn’t going to be perfect and I wasn’t going to love it and it was never going to be a 1967 Chevelle.

It wasn’t. It was a 2005 Cobalt.

My dad drove me to Chicago to get it. I had my demands when we were car shopping - I wanted something with two doors - because I wasn’t a mommy-car kind of driver - I wanted something black - because I wasn’t an old-man-tan kind of driver - and I wanted a stick-shift - because I wasn’t a girl-who-can’t-drive-stick kind of driver. The Cobalt checked all of those boxes.

AND LET ME TELL YOU. That car was wonderful. She was Old Reliable. She would have run until her heard exploded. We went almost 100,000 miles together, through rain, sleet, snow, and hail. Across Wisconsin and Michigan and back again, through Chicago approximately 155755643869434 times, and only once did she leave me on the side of the road (it was a flat, and it was my fault. She still did seven miles without complaining much before I realized what the problem was.)

I know, I know, I need to stop talking about this car like it’s my old cow pony that I rode the range with. But that’s how I feel about it. If you’re in the market for an extremely affordable little car that gets 36 MPG, look at some Cobalts. 

Anyway, last oil change, I was informed that my brake lines were rusting through, and we were talking an expensive repair that was really going to cost about what the car was worth. I could afford it, I thought about it, but I also thought “Maybe it’s time.”

So I mentioned it to my dad, and he immediately sent me twelve links to local cars for sale. The first one he sent was for a 2005 Mustang GT that was about 45 minutes away, in my price range, and absolutely gorgeous. He joked about me going the next day to take a look, and I was like “HA. Yeah. I’m gonna go on my day off to get laughed at by some male gearhead as I look at his precious baby and pretend I know what I’m looking for.”

That weekend, my Cobalt’s check engine light came on for the second time in a week, after a repair, and I decided to pull the trigger.

We came up with a plan. My dad would call about the Mustang and imply that it was for him, but that since I was local I was going to look at it for him. Monday, he texted me to inform me something miraculous.

This glorious Mustang was owned by a woman. 

My dad called her first and we moved forward with our original plan. I called that night and it was decided that I would look at this car the next day. I dragged Lydia along, and we waited in the driveway while this woman headed home from work, driving the car I had come to look at.

She pulled in the driveway and I could have cried. This car was pristine. There were a total of two scratches on this thirteen year old car. It had a window tint I didn’t even know I wanted, and black rims that pulled the whole thing together. The owner was cool - it’s always nice to meet a woman who likes the things that I like who isn’t arrogant and doesn’t look down on others for what they don’t know yet. She was admittedly into cars without being super knowledgeable, and I found that encouraging.

I looked the car over, inside and out, and took it for a test drive with shaking hands. Had I come with cash, I would have driven it home that night.

But I hadn’t. I asked her if she’d come down on the price at all, we discussed it a little, and Lydia and I headed back. I called my dad and told him I needed the car. We discussed how to get a cashier’s check, and I texted the woman back and told her I was buying that Mustang - was she available Thursday for me to come and get it?

The stars had aligned. This car had been available at the precise moment I looked for it, and it was everything I wanted, and it just happened to be owned by a woman who desperately wanted to sell it to another girl with an eye for sweet rides.

I would like everyone to take a moment and applaud me for this - I don’t make decisions, okay? I spent five years chewing on the pros and cons of getting a tattoo before I finally did that. I usually can’t even make weekend plans until it’s too late to do anything. But I had made the decision to buy that car before I even went to see it.

So I get the check Wednesday. The woman is informed by my dad how to verify it with the bank, so she can rest easy and know that we’re not trying to steal her car and scam her with a fake cashier’s check. 

Thursday rolls around and I’m losing my mind. I am forever a pessimist - I don’t let myself get excited about things just in case they don’t happen. I will enjoy in the moment, not before, because the moment may never actually happen and then I will be disappointed. 

I get a text at four thirty. The check couldn’t be verified and she couldn’t accept it. I wasn’t going to get the car.

I, of course, immediately launched into an overreaction. I called my dad who started emailing the woman to figure out the issue. I was texting with her, asking questions and politely requesting (begging) her to hold the car until Monday because there was no possible way to get cash in time and she was leaving the next day for a weekend trip.

I was losing my mind again, but in a much less fun way. It became painfully clear how much I wanted that car. 

At the very last second, she texted me again and said she’d finally gotten through to someone at the bank who was able to verify the check. I grabbed Lydia and we sped back before anything else could go wrong. I signed the title and gave the woman the headache of a check and slapped some illegal plates on and drove home like a 97-year-old lady to avoid attention from law enforcement.

It’s mine. I transferred the title and legalized the license plates. This entire process was less than a week long and I was blown away.

It was perfect timing, really. I just happened to purchase a Mustang two days before the 10th annual Heroes, Horses, and Hogs show in Fond du Lac, a fund-raising event involving Mustangs and Harleys that I had always wanted to go to but didn’t have a reason to. I jokingly told my dad - who, side note, also has a black 2005 Mustang GT, because we are nothing alike and have nothing in common - that he should come for the weekend and we could go together.

Saturday morning, he pulled into the driveway unannounced. 

So we took our little Mustang convoy to Fond du Lac and pulled up at the Harley dealer to check out the cars and bikes.

These were my favorites:

Anyway, this was a random, very pointless update for you all. In conclusion, I care too much about cars and enjoy them a lot.

I have no idea where I got that from.

[loveyourselfjustyou]

A Good Site for Your Fake Transcript Needs

Are you currently looking for the most upstanding site to produce your desired fake college degrees,or perhaps you’re looking for the best site to create fake certificates? If so, then you have to visit NDCenter to make sure that you will have the best partner for your fake document-related needs.

fake college diploma

So why should yougive this site a chance? Apparently, there are some pointers to make sure that you choose the best site (and ND Center happens to fit the bill, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves):

1.       Having thousands of universities on the list. ND Centeris one of the richest sites that provides you with a wide list of different colleges, universities, institutions, and courses. You can choose what campuses you want, input your choice, and check whether it is suitable to your needs. By having numerous options available, every client has more freedom to pick what’s best. Another important point is if your desired institution is not on the list, you can instead simply bring the copy of the document you want to have. You can borrow the document from your friends or relatives. Be that as it may, no need to worry too much about availability, since 90% of the time you’ll be able to find what you’re looking for on the list.

2.       Working on a fast-order process. This pointer is certainly a must-have for a service-based website, and ND Center is no exception. Once you have selected your institution of choice, you only need to click the request button on the site—after you pass all the prerequisites in the previous step. If compared to other similar sites that offer the same service of creating a fake document, ND Center is easily the simplest one. You can apply your request directly to the site, and you do not necessarily need to call or visit the actual person behind the site. It also offers a great deal of security, since you’ll beoverseeing and doing the process by yourself.

3.       Having a fast quotation-sending process. In general, quoting process can take as long as more than a day to be completed. Sometimes,waiting for a quotation can drive your anxiety since it is related to confidentially—after all, it is a sign whether a transaction is currently under process or not. However, if you make your order in ND Center, you will be guaranteed that your quotation will be sent to you in no more than 24-hour time.

4.       Offering easy payment process. In this day and age, having a fast and secure process of paying your document is a plus. At ND Center, you only need to transfer to the written bank account you’ve got once you receive your quotation. You do not need to wait until several days to make your payment. Both you as the client and ND Center as the service provider won’t be troubled by unnecessary hurdle.

Those four pointers above are what you should be looking out for if you’re seeking the service of making fake college diplomaof your choice. Just as the aforementioned pointers,ND Center’ssteps are just as easy, quick, trusted, and accurate.

We leave the final decision to you, but remember, would you rather have your need for a replica diplomabe less complicated?

For more information, you can visit www.nd-center.com.

 Fake Documents that Look just as Real

There’s gonna be a possible timewhen you’ll find yourself in need offake documents such as fake diploma, a fake degree, or a fake transcript. If you happen to be in such time, then you’ll be pleased to know that there are a number of online sites out there that specialize in making fake documents that you can find. As it stands, however, we’re pretty surethat looking for the one that does the job flawlessly can be difficult. With that said, do you happen to be in such conundrum? If so, then this is the right place for you.

But before we go any further, let’s make sure that we’re on the same page first. The perfect fake document, by our definition, is a document that will pass any quality check. By that definition, a fake document must have all necessary/required information to make them asclose to the real one as possible.

Welcome to ND Center, a place where for yourneeds of fake diplomas, fake college degrees,and fake transcripts. We must clarify before we go further, that all of the documentsND Centermade is just for novelty purposes only. ND Centeris not affiliated with any universities, college or educational institution of any kind. ND Center only makesdocuments to be used as joke gifts only. ND Centerhasa company policy to avoid abusing a fake document to misrepresent yourself. To know more about ND Center’s policy, check the website at http://www.nd-center.com.

ND Center understands that you won’t use your money for things that are less in quality than what you’d expect. For there might be many similar services out there, but ND Center prides itself to bethe best site that offers the service for you.

Why is that, you might ask? Let’s get to know a little bit better about ND Center.

ND Centerprovidesthe service of making fake college diplomas, fake college degrees, and fake transcripts made with the highest standards possible. All fake documents will be made using authentic designs. ND Center is already experienced in their field,so there’s no doubt that itgives you a guarantee to ensure you get a document that fits your requirement. ND Centeroffers an option of installment payment, in that you can pay 60% for your first payment and receive an image of the document. Once you are satisfied with the result, then you can pay the rest of the payment. In the event that you’re unsatisfied with the result, ND Centerwill fix it until it gets the document right.

Perhaps this is your first time buying a replica diploma or fake transcript or something along those lines?

We know that first-timers can be pretty skeptical. So, just to make things clear, feel free to see theND Center’ssamples of a fake document and let the samples speak for themselves. Granted, ND Centeroffers the higher price if compared to other competitors alike. However, in case ofND Center, you will not be disappointed with the result and how it operates. Before the document is shipped to your home, you can check the preview of your document. Moreover, ND Center dares to give a quality guarantee until you have a document as same as your requirement. Besides, ND Center also offer rush printing for you who need these document on urgent basis. With this process, you can get your document only in 72 hours without any compromise to the quality.

NDCenter Replicates Diploma Perfectly and Affordably

There are some instances when several individuals will need a fake diploma—but we are not going to be privy for what purpose. One for example, though, selective companies will require their employee to hand-over their original degree or transcript. Unless the employee is desperate enough, I don’t think they will submit to this unreasonable request. And this is where a replica diploma comes into play.

Before you decided to throw your money for a very expensive piece of paper, please take a note on some of these points:

1.       While possession of replica diploma is legal, using one to apply for a position you are not actually qualified for is considered fraud. So please take caution.

2.       Choose your fake diploma site carefully.

3.       Take your time to read their Frequently Asked Question before making a purchase.

If you have made your mind to go through with it, let me direct you to the best fake diploma site you can ever find online: NDCenter (http://www.nd-center.com/). ND Center is confident that they can provide the most authentic fake degrees, fake diplomas, and fake college degree transcripts atan affordable price. They can customize a fake document based on the client’s needs and specifications, making it as similar to the original document.

Testimonies and ND Center’s portfolio has proven that what they have is not just empty words. The testimonies come from all across the world, saying how satisfied they are with the service and the product. Wyatt from California, for example, writes, “First, I want to thank you so much for helping me out from a complete jam. I’m still impressed that you emailed the proofs within 24 hours for the fake college diploma I ordered. While the actual document took some time to arrive, I have to say the product was worth waiting for.”

ND Centeralso gets a really good review from fake diplomareview site such as diplomaone.com. The review is based on personal experience and the compilation of testimonies from other clients. It said that the overall quality ofND Center’s product is the best; the seal, crest, and signature looks like a real one, and that they even take care of the type of paper used to print the fake documents. Although ND Centerstill misses their deadline from time to time, it is something you can overlook seeing the result of their work. Additionally, their turnaround time is actually better than most of the fake diploma sites with less quality product.

Next, we are going to talk about price. Of course, no one wants to spend their money for nothing or trash. There are actually some sites who dare charge so high for an abysmal product. But you don’t need to worry about such scam when you make your order at ND Center. The cost ofND Center’s service can be considered pricey, but it is equal to the product that you will receive. Simply speaking, you get what you paid for, and in ND Center, you pay for the best.

If you haven’t convinced yet with this recommendation, check out the link itself. Make sure with your eyes that ND Center will absolutely deliver either a fake diploma, fake transcript, or even afake college degreethat perfectly looks like the original with the most reasonable price.

 A Fake Documents for, Say, an Important Property for a Film

As time marches forward, people are growing more critical than ever before. This unprecedented level of criticism-centric culture is displayed best when the audience noticing even the most minute detail in a film. As the number of audiences increasing to a worldwide scale, the higher the expectation is for a movie to play flawlessly without errors. Besidesthe film’s narrative, people nowadays are also critical about, quite literally, all things that are present in the film. Even just a small poorly-managed property or a nonsense flow of a film can appear like a sore thumb under everyone’s scrutiny, but at least everyone involved in the film’s production will work extra hard as a response to the audience’s level of vigilance.

So, speaking about the property.One of the film’s key elements that tend to be neglected by film producers is property. Eventhough it is important to support a film’s consistency, it is not on their top priority list since there are also other elements that need to be tended, such as make-up, costumes, or production set, that seem to be more important and urgent. That may be the case, but even the smallest things in a film nowadaysarejust as everything else in that it needs to be handled as flawlessly as possible. Property may seemminusculeand inconsequentialin the grand scheme of things, but it actually contributes quite a lot tomake the flow of the film run smoothly as if it happens for real.

With that said, if you happen to be in need of a formal document as your property for your play project, there’s no doubt that you’ll need one that looks as close to the real thing as possible. Thus, you have to be extra careful of where to get it. And good news for you, for there is now an answer to that need of fake transcripts, bogus certificate, fake diploma, etc in NDCenter.

ND Center is an online-basedfake document maker that has been known for making multiple fake documents for proper needs, like for a property in a play or as a novelty joke. In addition, it can be used for the film-related purposes as well. Quite fair with the quality, ND Center offers a reasonable price for their every product,produced through a convenient and fast service. For more details and info, you can just visit their website on www.nd-centre.com and see it yourself how they already give such a satisfying result of making fake documents that look real. They can make various transcripts, certificates, college diploma, and any other formal documents in a short period without compromising the quality. One thing to remember, ND Centeralso keeps on holding its safety policy of how their products are being used. Before placing your order, do not forget to read their terms and condition at the very first and please be aware of using it for right purposes.

[saveyourlastnumber]

A Good Site for Your Fake Transcript Needs

Are you currently looking for the most upstanding site to produce your desired fake college degrees,or perhaps you’re looking for the best site to create fake certificates? If so, then you have to visit NDCenter to make sure that you will have the best partner for your fake document-related needs.

fake document maker

So why should yougive this site a chance? Apparently, there are some pointers to make sure that you choose the best site (and ND Center happens to fit the bill, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves):

1.       Having thousands of universities on the list. ND Centeris one of the richest sites that provides you with a wide list of different colleges, universities, institutions, and courses. You can choose what campuses you want, input your choice, and check whether it is suitable to your needs. By having numerous options available, every client has more freedom to pick what’s best. Another important point is if your desired institution is not on the list, you can instead simply bring the copy of the document you want to have. You can borrow the document from your friends or relatives. Be that as it may, no need to worry too much about availability, since 90% of the time you’ll be able to find what you’re looking for on the list.

2.       Working on a fast-order process. This pointer is certainly a must-have for a service-based website, and ND Center is no exception. Once you have selected your institution of choice, you only need to click the request button on the site—after you pass all the prerequisites in the previous step. If compared to other similar sites that offer the same service of creating a fake document, ND Center is easily the simplest one. You can apply your request directly to the site, and you do not necessarily need to call or visit the actual person behind the site. It also offers a great deal of security, since you’ll beoverseeing and doing the process by yourself.

3.       Having a fast quotation-sending process. In general, quoting process can take as long as more than a day to be completed. Sometimes,waiting for a quotation can drive your anxiety since it is related to confidentially—after all, it is a sign whether a transaction is currently under process or not. However, if you make your order in ND Center, you will be guaranteed that your quotation will be sent to you in no more than 24-hour time.

4.       Offering easy payment process. In this day and age, having a fast and secure process of paying your document is a plus. At ND Center, you only need to transfer to the written bank account you’ve got once you receive your quotation. You do not need to wait until several days to make your payment. Both you as the client and ND Center as the service provider won’t be troubled by unnecessary hurdle.

Those four pointers above are what you should be looking out for if you’re seeking the service of making fake college diplomaof your choice. Just as the aforementioned pointers,ND Center’ssteps are just as easy, quick, trusted, and accurate.

We leave the final decision to you, but remember, would you rather have your need for a replica diplomabe less complicated?

For more information, you can visit www.nd-center.com.

 Fake Documents that Look just as Real

There’s gonna be a possible timewhen you’ll find yourself in need offake documents such as fake diploma, a fake degree, or a fake transcript. If you happen to be in such time, then you’ll be pleased to know that there are a number of online sites out there that specialize in making fake documents that you can find. As it stands, however, we’re pretty surethat looking for the one that does the job flawlessly can be difficult. With that said, do you happen to be in such conundrum? If so, then this is the right place for you.

But before we go any further, let’s make sure that we’re on the same page first. The perfect fake document, by our definition, is a document that will pass any quality check. By that definition, a fake document must have all necessary/required information to make them asclose to the real one as possible.

Welcome to ND Center, a place where for yourneeds of fake diplomas, fake college degrees,and fake transcripts. We must clarify before we go further, that all of the documentsND Centermade is just for novelty purposes only. ND Centeris not affiliated with any universities, college or educational institution of any kind. ND Center only makesdocuments to be used as joke gifts only. ND Centerhasa company policy to avoid abusing a fake document to misrepresent yourself. To know more about ND Center’s policy, check the website at http://www.nd-center.com.

ND Center understands that you won’t use your money for things that are less in quality than what you’d expect. For there might be many similar services out there, but ND Center prides itself to bethe best site that offers the service for you.

Why is that, you might ask? Let’s get to know a little bit better about ND Center.

ND Centerprovidesthe service of making fake college diplomas, fake college degrees, and fake transcripts made with the highest standards possible. All fake documents will be made using authentic designs. ND Center is already experienced in their field,so there’s no doubt that itgives you a guarantee to ensure you get a document that fits your requirement. ND Centeroffers an option of installment payment, in that you can pay 60% for your first payment and receive an image of the document. Once you are satisfied with the result, then you can pay the rest of the payment. In the event that you’re unsatisfied with the result, ND Centerwill fix it until it gets the document right.

Perhaps this is your first time buying a replica diploma or fake transcript or something along those lines?

We know that first-timers can be pretty skeptical. So, just to make things clear, feel free to see theND Center’ssamples of a fake document and let the samples speak for themselves. Granted, ND Centeroffers the higher price if compared to other competitors alike. However, in case ofND Center, you will not be disappointed with the result and how it operates. Before the document is shipped to your home, you can check the preview of your document. Moreover, ND Center dares to give a quality guarantee until you have a document as same as your requirement. Besides, ND Center also offer rush printing for you who need these document on urgent basis. With this process, you can get your document only in 72 hours without any compromise to the quality.

NDCenter Replicates Diploma Perfectly and Affordably

There are some instances when several individuals will need a fake diploma—but we are not going to be privy for what purpose. One for example, though, selective companies will require their employee to hand-over their original degree or transcript. Unless the employee is desperate enough, I don’t think they will submit to this unreasonable request. And this is where a replica diploma comes into play.

Before you decided to throw your money for a very expensive piece of paper, please take a note on some of these points:

1.       While possession of replica diploma is legal, using one to apply for a position you are not actually qualified for is considered fraud. So please take caution.

2.       Choose your fake diploma site carefully.

3.       Take your time to read their Frequently Asked Question before making a purchase.

If you have made your mind to go through with it, let me direct you to the best fake diploma site you can ever find online: NDCenter (http://www.nd-center.com/). ND Center is confident that they can provide the most authentic fake degrees, fake diplomas, and fake college degree transcripts atan affordable price. They can customize a fake document based on the client’s needs and specifications, making it as similar to the original document.

Testimonies and ND Center’s portfolio has proven that what they have is not just empty words. The testimonies come from all across the world, saying how satisfied they are with the service and the product. Wyatt from California, for example, writes, “First, I want to thank you so much for helping me out from a complete jam. I’m still impressed that you emailed the proofs within 24 hours for the fake college diploma I ordered. While the actual document took some time to arrive, I have to say the product was worth waiting for.”

ND Centeralso gets a really good review from fake diplomareview site such as diplomaone.com. The review is based on personal experience and the compilation of testimonies from other clients. It said that the overall quality ofND Center’s product is the best; the seal, crest, and signature looks like a real one, and that they even take care of the type of paper used to print the fake documents. Although ND Centerstill misses their deadline from time to time, it is something you can overlook seeing the result of their work. Additionally, their turnaround time is actually better than most of the fake diploma sites with less quality product.

Next, we are going to talk about price. Of course, no one wants to spend their money for nothing or trash. There are actually some sites who dare charge so high for an abysmal product. But you don’t need to worry about such scam when you make your order at ND Center. The cost ofND Center’s service can be considered pricey, but it is equal to the product that you will receive. Simply speaking, you get what you paid for, and in ND Center, you pay for the best.

If you haven’t convinced yet with this recommendation, check out the link itself. Make sure with your eyes that ND Center will absolutely deliver either a fake diploma, fake transcript, or even afake college degreethat perfectly looks like the original with the most reasonable price.

 A Fake Documents for, Say, an Important Property for a Film

As time marches forward, people are growing more critical than ever before. This unprecedented level of criticism-centric culture is displayed best when the audience noticing even the most minute detail in a film. As the number of audiences increasing to a worldwide scale, the higher the expectation is for a movie to play flawlessly without errors. Besidesthe film’s narrative, people nowadays are also critical about, quite literally, all things that are present in the film. Even just a small poorly-managed property or a nonsense flow of a film can appear like a sore thumb under everyone’s scrutiny, but at least everyone involved in the film’s production will work extra hard as a response to the audience’s level of vigilance.

So, speaking about the property.One of the film’s key elements that tend to be neglected by film producers is property. Eventhough it is important to support a film’s consistency, it is not on their top priority list since there are also other elements that need to be tended, such as make-up, costumes, or production set, that seem to be more important and urgent. That may be the case, but even the smallest things in a film nowadaysarejust as everything else in that it needs to be handled as flawlessly as possible. Property may seemminusculeand inconsequentialin the grand scheme of things, but it actually contributes quite a lot tomake the flow of the film run smoothly as if it happens for real.

With that said, if you happen to be in need of a formal document as your property for your play project, there’s no doubt that you’ll need one that looks as close to the real thing as possible. Thus, you have to be extra careful of where to get it. And good news for you, for there is now an answer to that need of fake transcripts, bogus certificate, fake diploma, etc in NDCenter.

ND Center is an online-basedfake document maker that has been known for making multiple fake documents for proper needs, like for a property in a play or as a novelty joke. In addition, it can be used for the film-related purposes as well. Quite fair with the quality, ND Center offers a reasonable price for their every product,produced through a convenient and fast service. For more details and info, you can just visit their website on www.nd-centre.com and see it yourself how they already give such a satisfying result of making fake documents that look real. They can make various transcripts, certificates, college diploma, and any other formal documents in a short period without compromising the quality. One thing to remember, ND Centeralso keeps on holding its safety policy of how their products are being used. Before placing your order, do not forget to read their terms and condition at the very first and please be aware of using it for right purposes.