#I made this in like ten minutes on a whim and its kind of ugly lmao but thanks for the notes guys you are all so lovely

[thepunkmuppet]

# i know what you are

[mrs-harkness]

Ocean Eyes (Part 1)

Pairing: Tammy x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Taglist: @peggycarter-steverogers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow 

A/n: Hey guys. Sorry for the wait. Life has been so busy as I just became a certified therapist and just life stuff in general. This is just going to be a mini fic for fun while I work on writing my next big one- which will be for Cordelia! Literally nothing like Run to Me, so I hope you don’t find it disappointing. Just a little filler while I work out the plot for my next story!

You pulled out your phone, checking the time. 1:53 PM. Your interview was at 2 o'clock and if you didn't figure out where you were quickly, you were going to be late. You walked faster, panic dialing your best friend who had gotten you the interview.

"Hello?" the sweet voice chimed on the other end.

"Sarah! Help! I'm lost," you pleaded, looking at the address on the piece of paper in your hand and trying to match it to the towering houses around you.

"How did you get lost? I gave you the exact address. Did the driver put it in wrong?"

"No. I made the Uber drop me off at the entrance to the neighborhood because his car looked super sketch and I didn't want the mom to see me step out of a car that looks like it was used in a 70's porn film. I started walking and I got lost."

You heard Sarah shuffling around in the background, and what sounded like the tapping of keys.

"Okay, give me the address for the closest house," she said. Your best friend was a life saver.

"Uhhh... 768 Elm Street," you told her, trying not to look suspicious in this wealthy neighborhood.

"Hmmm. Okay you're literally two streets over. If you go to the end of this street, take a right and walk less than two blocks. You'll make it to maple from there. You somehow managed to be right behind her house. It will take you about ten minutes."

Shit.

"No! There has got to be a quicker way! I am going to be late!" You whined, stomping your feet on the sidewalk in frustration.

"Yeah, Tammy is not going to like that. She is very patient but she's got three kids so she really only has enough patience for them. Well wait, hang on a second."

"What? Did you find a quicker route?"

"Sorta. You should have just stayed in the Uber."

"Sarah I did not want to pull up like Will Smith from the Fresh Prince of Belaire, now spit it out already!"

"Well that house you are standing in front of? Technically if you could find a way into their backyard and through the trees... you could get to Tammy's house in half the time."

You looked at the house in front of you. It looked more like a post office than a home. Large marble columns, real gas lamps framing a shiny oak door, and a second floor balcony that seemed larger than Sarah's whole apartment. This is not the type of property you just meandered around on, but this job was also not the type of opportunity you just let slip away by being two minutes late.

You walked a little to the side of the house, and there you found your favorite thing of the whole house: A gate to the backyard.

"I'm gonna do it," you say to Sarah, who had been quiet this entire time.

There was more silence, before you heard your best friend draw in a breath.

"Don't get arrested please. Call me when you're done, or in lock up. Either way, be safe."

Sarah had always been someone who just supported and loved you no matter what. Whether it was moving on a whim to another city and crashing on her couch indefinitely or trespassing through a rich family's yard to get the job that would help you get started on your dreams. She was that type of friend and you loved her for it.

You didn't even say goodbye as you hung up and checked the time again. 1:55 PM mocked you on the screen. You shoved the phone in your pocket before quickly looking around. No one was out and about thankfully probably due to the heat picking up, so you walked briskly over to the gate.

You said a prayer and begged the universe to be kind to you under your breath as you forced yourself to find the courage and flung open the lock to the gate, letting it swing open. You looked around the yard really quickly to find it empty as well. Maybe this wouldn't be hard at all.

You closed the gate behind you and you quickly jogged into the yard. There was a picnic table close to the other side of the fence and you would be able to hop right over! You breathed a sigh of relief because everything was going to plan, until the dog.

A ear piecing yap began sounding through the yard like an obnoxious security alarm. You turned and saw that the back of the home was basically one big window and there inside was the ugliest looking purse dog you had ever seen, notifying every living creature with working ears within a mile of your presence.

You watched horrified as the owner of said ugly dog appeared in the view of the window like some horror movie on a tv screen. An older woman, dressed as if she had been in the middle of a workout, was also now yapping at you angrily and  making her way to her giant window wall.

Your feet started moving before you realized what was happening and you bolted to the back of the yard and onto the picnic table, jumping and throwing one of your legs over the fence. The little old woman made it to a sliding glass door, releasing her dog and profanities towards you.

The dog tore across the lawn, but thankfully was no actual threat. You looked at the woman as you threw your other leg over the fence.

"I'm not a criminal! I'm sorry! I just got lost on the way to a job interview. You have a nice home!" you yelled, trying to prove to this stranger you were not bad, just had poor execution of your ideas. You dropped over the other side of the fence and into the wooded area behind the home, running as fast as your feet could carry you from the angry woman and her angrier dog.

It only took you about a minute of running full force to make it to another fence, a fence you were praying was Tammy's. You ran around the length of it, following it to the front of the house. You shakily pulled out the paper from your pocket and checked the address. You had made it. This was the house. You laughed, more relieved than anything, and jogged to the front door.

You knocked and weren't even able to take a full breath before the door opened.

There before you stood the most beautiful woman you had ever laid your eyes on. Her hair was the color of sand on the beaches of heaven its self and her eyes looked like brownies fresh from the over, and you had the strange thought of wanting to burn your mouth on them.

Y/n, that's weird. Stop it.

You stared at her, trying not to look to heavily at her gorgeous smile at the fear she may think you were looking at her lips. Even though you kind of were. You forced yourself to smile back.

"You must be Y/n," she said, looking at her watch, "and you are right on time. Let it be known I find that super attractive."

You chuckle nervously, unable to process a coherent thought. You really just hoped she couldn't tell you had just ran through the woods to stand stupid on her doorstep. Thankfully it didn't seem like she did and stepped aside, letting you in.

The home was gorgeous and lavish, but also homey and seemed lived in. You could hear the distant laughter of children somewhere in the house and portraits of what you could only assume were those children hung on the walls. You did notice though that there was a lack of family portraits probably due to the husband no longer being in the picture.

Sarah had filled you in a little bit about the family situation. She had worked with them over the summer and was working for them when they filed for divorce. Supposedly neither of them seemed upset by it, but he had still decided to move into another town. Tammy supposedly worked a very busy job and with three rambunctious kids, help was needed. Sarah had helped them occasionally, but Tammy needed something more permanent and hopefully that's where you would come in.

You followed Tammy into a big open kitchen and sat down with her at the kitchen table.

"Can I offer you some tea or water?" she said sweetly.

Even though you were parched from the mini marathon you had just ran, you politely declined. You pulled your resume out of your bag and put it on the table. Tammy reached over and took it, looking at it before smiling back up at you.

"I know Sarah said you had just moved here, so what brought you to town?" Tammy asked.

You hoped the look of confusion was not obvious on your face because you were expecting only questions about the job. You were unsure how useful you would be talking about yourself right now.

"Uh, well I came to town for a fresh start, and with Sarah here, it just seemed like the best place to restart."

"Running from something?" Tammy asked, putting down the resume and taking a sip of something in a mug that had been sitting on the table.

"N-no ma'am. Nothing illegal. I am not a criminal. I told the old lady the same thing," you stuttered.

Tammy raised her eyebrow at the last part, but you kept going to breeze over it hopefully.

"I just- I got my heartbroken and got kicked out of the apartment we shared. I didn't feel like I was making anything of my life where I was and I have such big dreams, but all I found there was pain and complacency, so I came here in hope to change that."

You voice sounded small and you ringed your hands in your lap, nervous that you may have said too much. Tammy's face softened even more somehow though and she smiled at you over the edge of her mug. She stared at you for a moment, her eyes seeming to sparkle. She nodded and looked down at your resume again.

"Well, you certainly have quite an impressive track record here. You seem like a kid expert. And because I already did a background check on you, I feel comfortable saying, if you would like the job its yours."

You sat there at the table, now not trying to hide the stunned look on your face. You had a harder time getting over the fence than getting employed by this woman.

"That's it? You don't need to ask me anything else? You're giving me the job?" you ask, stumbling over your words.

Tammy laughs and it feels like butterflies flutter in your belly. You like to make her laugh, but you aren't sure if she think's you're funny or stupid.

"With my life and my job, Y/n, the thing that is most important to me is being able to trust you. With my kids, my day to day life, and if I need your help with something. Trust and honesty go a long way with me, and you proved that with one question," she said, coming over to you with a glass of water.

You took it with a smile, forcing yourself to take a slow slip.

"Well, you can definitely trust me. And I'd be honored to by your nanny," you say, excitement and nervousness flowering inside your chest.

Tammy smiles sweetly at you.

"Consider yourself part of the family Y/n. Now you do know this is a live in position right? Sarah told you that?"

You nodded, that having been one of the main reasons you wanted the job. As much as you loved Sarah, you did not love sleeping on her couch. Being a live in nanny presented its own set of challenges, but it wouldn't be forever.

"Good. Can you move in today?"

You choked on your water, coughing and spitting it all over your shirt. Tammy laughed at you, and your cheeks burned red. Now you were embarrassed and Tammy sensed that.

"I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't mean to shock you. I just really need your help around here as soon as possible. And it would be better if you just came on in and got to know me and the kids since you're going to be a big part of our lives."

She handed you a paper towel, looking down at you with a comforting expression. Your cheeks burned red again, but not from embarrassment. You looked away and cleared your throat, unsure why you were so flustered.

"Sure. Yeah, no problem. I just need to run home and grab my clothes and things, but I don't have any furniture so-"

"Oh don't worry. You'll have the whole attic. Its renovated and fully furnished and you'll have your own bathroom. You don't need to worry about buying anything."

That was a relief. It would have taken you a while to afford those things.

You got up and walked with Tammy to the front door, her opening it for you.

"Thank you Ms. Tammy for hiring me, you will not regret it. I will take good care of your kids and make your life as easy as I possibly can," you say, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, attempting to look confident and wanting to ensure Tammy she had made the right choice.

She chuckled again, putting a little hole in that confidence, but it was quickly repaired when she wrapped her arms around you. It shocked you and you stood there, frozen for a second before hugging her back.

"I know you will. You're going to be a wonderful addition to our lives, all of our lives," she said. Her voice had a hint of something in it, making it seem like silk, but then you felt her pulling on your hair a bit and you felt like your legs may fall out from under you. Who was this woman?

Before you could assume anything further though, she pulled back and revealed she had taken a small branch with green leaves from your hair. You laughed nervously. Tammy cocked an eyebrow at you and smiled cheekily, holding it up.

"That is a funny story... I can explain that. I promise I bathe."

It was Tammy who laughed this time thankfully. She nodded and played with the branch in between her long, manicured fingers.

"That's alright. You can tell me about it tonight over drinks once you are home. I'd like to get to know you better while we get you settled."

Something about the way she said it made your breath catch in your throat. She smiled at you and you two said your goodbyes. You would text her when you were on the way back home. How strange that felt.

You sat in a much cleaner Uber on the way back to Sarah's, your head pressed against the glass. You couldn't stop thinking about Tammy and it seemed like you also couldn't wipe the smile from your face either. It seemed almost like a dream.

Just then, your phone buzzed and you were pulled from the thoughts of the woman to see that her name was on your screen. You quickly held the phone up to unlock it, suddenly overcome with the need of answering her at a moments notice. Thankfully it was not a message of her changing her mind.

Btw, just call me Tammy. Ms. Tammy is a little formal ;)

You smiled and bit your lip, quickly responding.

Okay, Tammy :)

[pixelwisp-archive]

Itadakimasu!! | Part 3: Fly, Little Bird  (Written Chapter)

word count: 1.2k

Tendou never thought himself to be a selfless person. He didn't really consider himself a selfish person either, necessarily, but he promised himself a long time ago that he wasn't going to set aside his own dreams for the comfort of someone else. His ambition always came first, and the endgame had always been Paris. He supposed, in a way, that had never changed - so why was there a familiar pool of guilt settling at the pit of his stomach? 

The corner of his lips tugged downward at the slight, involuntary tremor that rippled through his hands - the ivory envelope with gold trim, 'La Maison du Chocolat'  written in a delicate golden font across its center clutched in between them. You knew about Paris - about his dreams, his ambitions - and not once have you given him any reason to doubt that you would regard this news in any way other than with a painfully large grin and arms spread impossibly wide, pride radiating off you like a sunbeam. So why...guilty. Thoughts wandered to the pickle jar. The drunken nights on the balcony of your tiny apartment; stupid, cheesy French music playing on one of your phones as the two of you laughed and talked about what Paris would mean for the both of you. Tendou knew exactly what to say every time, but when the conversation trailed back to you, you would grin, sometimes laugh, but your answer was always the same - 'I'll figure it out when I get there. I don't really care as long as I'm with you'.

Ah. There it was.

Paris was his dream. Not yours.

'I'll follow you anywhere, Ten.’

Even if it wasn't what you wanted.

He was neither a selfless nor selfish person, but he knew you, and you were as selfless as they came. You would give up everything you’ve worked so hard for to follow him if he asked, completely setting aside your own whims to entertain his. Tendou shoved the envelope into his bag and hurried up the stairs to your apartment, trying desperately to will away the unwanted feeling that gnawed at him as he flashed you his usual Cheshire grin.

 In 12 months, he would be leaving for Paris to begin a paid apprenticeship with one of the most famous Parisian Chocolate Boutiques, working directly under the famous Sculptor and Chocolatier Patrick Roger himself - and you would not be going with him.

There wasn’t any way to break that news to you now, not when you were still so unwilling to stand on your own. He knew he needed to nudge you out of the nest the two of you built, reminding you of your independence, and hopefully, the will to chase your own dreams. He grabbed the pickle jar from under the sink, took a little extra from his own savings, and began the search to find you a new nest, one with more room for you to finally learn to fly. 

“I’m sorry, you what?” Your body twisted toward him at the news, eyes bulging out of your skull. 

“I bought a new location. In Osaka! Trendy neighborhood, good lighting, pretty cheap actually-”

“When?! How?! With what-” your voice died in your throat as you picked yourself off the floor and scrambled to the kitchen. You ripped open the cabinet underneath the sink and fished around, a grunt of victory leaving you as you felt your fingers clasp around the familiar lid. Successfully retrieving the pickle jar from the depths of the cabinet, the faint glow of the kitchen light brought the full makeshift bank into view, and you couldn’t help but gawk when you saw its emptiness. 

“Tendou, why...” Your voice trailed off as your brain began to flood with worry. What made him decide to just buy a new location without talking to you first? It’s not like you would have said no. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of betrayal at the notion that he didn’t value your opinion as a business partner. Feet pattered against the linoleum as he rushed to stand in front of you, and your lifted your eyes to lock onto his own. The usual mirth that accompanied his features was ever present, but you knew him well enough to see the tiny sheen of something else that rippled over his features. Guilt?

“Paradis, it’s nothing against you, I promise. I just...I wanted it to be a surprise,” he explained, crouching down so he could maintain an even eye level with you. “I forgot you’re not a huge fan of them.” Your lack of response was probably beginning to gnaw at him, you thought, but whenever you tried to come up with something to say, it fizzled before it could reach your tongue.

“I saw your notebook, Y/n,” he mumbled. “You have so many plans for Paradis, and they’re all amazing! This new place has all the room to make your ideas on the page come to life. You could have a dining area, expand the menu, try new crazy things - this location can be your passion project; your baby.”  

Spontaneity wasn’t a new trait for Tendou. There were days where he would come home, tell you to collect your things, and wisk you away on a road trip for two days with no destination in mind, no other notice except a quick text to the team to take care of the shop while you two were away. Generally, you didn’t mind his antics, but this seemed next level, and you couldn’t ignore the feeling that it came with ulterior motives. 

Something else nagged at the back of your mind too - if you were going to Osaka, was Tendou coming with you? Was he staying here? What about the apartment? There’s no way he can keep it up himself. How did he get the money for a location in Osaka of all places-

Your brain shut down the moment Tendou’s finger poked in between your eyebrows.

“Paradis, you’re gonna get wrinkles. I already took care of everything, so ask me whatever you wanna know.” You sat on his words for a moment, rifling through the growing number of questions to deem which one most important.

“Are you coming with me?” His silence was loud enough to answer for him, and you looked down. You haven’t done any of this on your own before. You’ve always had someone’s arm held out to you to hang onto whenever life tried to rear its ugly head and swallow you. 

“I won’t be able to do it all myself, Ten.” Tendou frowned. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Y/n. You can always call me if you end up stuck. Also,” he pulled out his phone as if to confirm his next words. “Kuguri has been wanting to move out of Tokyo for a fat minute now. He said he’s totally down to go with you.”

The news of Kuguri accompanying you lifted a huge amount of pressure off you. At least you weren’t going up there alone. Your thoughts drifted to the potential Osaka had just granted you; A new opportunity, a blank slate for your ideas to come to life. You could finally try things you’ve always wanted to with this new location. The worry that plagued you began to dissipate, excitement taking over as you brought your eyes to meet Tendou’s once more.

“When are we supposed to leave?” Tendou grins, and places his hand over the one you had resting on top of the pickle jar.

“Three weeks.”

Prev | Masterlist | Next

Fun facts - 

I promise this is an Osamu x reader lmao just give it time

For Tendou’s apprenticeship, I combined two popular Parisian Chocolate companies: Patrick Roger, who’s style just seems so Avant Garde and very Tendou energy, and decided to make him the head of the popular chocolate boutique  La Maison du Chocolat, solely because I thought the name was very ~French~ and ~Fancy~ lol.

I know nothing of Chocolate or France tbh - I got my info from this Vogue Article that you can read here.

A/N: So sorry for the wait with Chapter three!! I was kind of struggling with which route would best keep the plot rolling the way I want it to. I hope you guys don’t mind that this chapter is entirely written, next chapter will def have more social media caps! As always, thank you so much for reading, feel free to shoot me an ask and engage or ask to be added to the Taglist!! 

ps: This wasn’t beta read so pls ignore the bad bits lmaofnjkasndfaksj

Taglist -

@larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @fucktheworlddude @doctorspencereid @keiarma @cherriechurros @halesandy​

I heard you guys aren’t getting tagged with updates and I’m p sure its because I’m st00pid so if this doesn’t work I’ll reblog and tag again! Sorry if you guys get notified multiple times lmao

[freckledmountain]

Lulling comfort

By @freckledmountain for @romeoandjulietyouwish

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark

Summary:

"Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between. … He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again."

Or, an AU where you hear whatever your platonic soulmate sings or hums! :D

For the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: Change

Some-

BODY ONCE TOLD ME

the WORLD IS GONNA ROLL ME

I AIN´T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE sHE-ED

Peter´s endearing screech and dramatics at the starting notes startles a fond laugh out of Tony, making DUM-E beep in curious surprise.

The bot has a screwdriver in his grasp and usually Tony´d chastise him for grabbing tools without permission (he has not forgotten the last lab incident, thank you) but right now he´s much too preoccupied resisting the urge to join in the kid´s slumber party via his own singing.

God bless karaoke.

Peter had looked sheepish when he´d mentioned it to him, the little get-together his scary girlfriend and Ned had planned this weekend at the latter´s place after a ridiculously long week of exams. Tony had absolutely no problem listening to his kid´s voice in his head, but it was still sweet of Peter to ask beforehand.

“You know I work best with music anyway.” He´d said, remembering all the times he´d listened to Peter perform dramatically to songs on the radio.

Peter´d hunched his shoulders a bit, smiling. “Yeah, okay, okay, I just wanted to make sure because Ned might ask me to duet to Take on me again, and last time I sang it you were on a meeting and FRIDAY sent me that video of you mouthing the words and Ms. Potts looked like the disappointed dad from that Shawn Mendes vine- “

…even if he had no idea what the kid was talking about sometimes.

He´d gasped and placed a hand to his chest, feigning offence. “Have you forgotten the time you had Call me maybe on loopin my head for an entire day?”

“…It was a dare?”

“Hmm” he´d said, raising an eyebrow playfully as Peter dissolved into laughter. “whatever you say, bud.”

His smile softens unconsciously at the memory as he methodically tweaks a few things in his nanotech suit, still listening to Peter belt out lyrics in his head. Truth be told, he misses the kid working alongside him like usual, but he knows how important spending time with his friends is to Peter.

(The parenting books say it´s imperative too, although of course he hasn´t ever read, purchased five on a whim or fret over anything of the sort. Obviously.)

He hopes Ned and Michelle´s respective other halves don´t mind the kids crooning 80´s rock on a Friday evening, but he guesses if they´re anything like them, they probably won´t complain. Soulmates are cool like that.

He remembers all the times Rhodey had told him about his soulmate´s voice inside his own head, how he´d suddenly perk up and grin at whatever melody he could hear, how he´d start humming randomly to join in.

Tony had grown up hearing nothing but his own treacherous thoughts for the longest time, almost losing hope completely at the possibility of having a soulmate right up until adulthood. Heavy metal music blasted over his speakers constantly whenever he was busy in his workshop, but he never joined in. There were moments when he´d thought his love for singing would be soured forever, since apparently the universe or whoever was in charge didn´t have a problem leaving him without someone out there to share it with him in his head.

Thankfully, he always did have Rhodey, and boycould he kick-start the fun in singing again with his flawless Mariah Carey impressions. He´d loved the few times he´d heard Pepper sing too, and there´d even been one memorable instance where he´d surprised Happy vocalizing in an unexpectedly pleasant lilt.

Hearing Peter sing though...simply put, there was nothing else like it.

-and we could aLL use a little changeeeeeeeEEE

…Yes, nothing was quite like it.

Tony shakes his head, smiling, and grabs his phone to text May about the kid´s shenanigans. She´d been more than a little concerned when Peter and him had figured out who the other was, (that was one heck of a superhero fundraiser) but now they´ve become much closer, and Tony can genuinely say they´re friends. He´s glad to have her on his side, because May Parker is, in Peter terms, a very kind powerhouse, and not someone he´d like to mess with.

He´s about to press send when the lights in the room flash red.

Tony´s up and summoning his gauntlet attentively in a second, right as FRIDAY pulls up screens around him, showing footage of the emergency.

“What am I looking at, FRI?”

“Around 30 heavily armed machines have emerged in Midtown Manhattan, boss.” She responds, as the room fills with projections. The robots on screen are huge and ugly as heck, about the width and height of three school buses together. They´re making their way through the streets surprisingly quickly for how heavy they look. People run away, steering clear of their illuminated blasts. “They appear to be releasing high frequency blasts approximately every ten seconds. Local police have just arrived at the scene and are requesting backup, since the blasts are causing structural damage to the surrounding buildings. The source of these machines is unknown.”

“Tell the team to suit up and meet me there.”

“They have already been alerted, boss, but I´ll relay your message as well.”

The rest of his suit materializes around him, and he makes haste to get to the nearest window, half worried and half downright annoyed at whoever was behind this.

“Another one for the robot bingo card on means of world domination.” He says to himself, unimpressed. Just one week without this crap…

He soars above the sky nonetheless, blasting his way towards the fight.

Please stay put kid, he wishes, even as the singing stops.

---

Three blocks.

He´s three blocks away from where Peter is making his way back when it happens.

As big and fast as the robots are, Tony can tell they weren´t exactly made by the finest of the loons who regularly try to take over New York. Not to mention they´re absolutely appalling to look at, whoever designed these things had absolutely no taste, Tony thinks, crushing his twenty-second bot with the suit´s repulsors. It hasn´t exactly been easy, since the wretched machines have no real apparent motive but to blow up everything in their path, but within an hour it seems they´re done with the worst of it.

He can see Nat and Wanda dealing with the remains of one of the last ones below, while a little way away Cap´s talking with a few cops, scoping out the damage. Even though the air is permeated with smoke and there´s rubble in some places, there are no casualties, and they´ve thankfully emptied out the buildings that got wrecked. SHIELD will take care of the rest.

He flies over the skyscrapers, keeping an eye out for any other bots, but it seems like FRIDAY´s finished identifying all of them. He activates a private line on the comms to talk to Peter.

“Done securing the area from whatever that disastrous colour scheme was?”

He can hear Peter´s good-natured groan as his location pops up on Tony´s screen, six blocks away.

“I know, right? I can wear mismatched socks for a week and rock them no problem, but blue with like, eye-melting neon? Yikes.”

“Exactamundo. Couldn´t agree with you more, kid. But hey, it looks like you might actually be able to get back to your sleepover after all. Can´t wait to hear what alarming chorus is going to keep me up until midnight.”

“Oh you just wait, we´re doing ABBA next and it´s gonna be so-“

FRIDAY tears through the conversation with an alarm, but it´s precious seconds too late.

A gasp. An abrupt thud resounding through the comms. A scream. Peter´s.

Tony´s blood freezes in his veins.

“Peter? Peter!?”

He gets there in less than a minute and sees one of the bots with its blaster pointed at Peter, still smoking from the shot.

He obliterates it without a second thought, his mind swirling with fear and rejection at FRIDAY´s next words as he runs towards Spiderman´s crumbled figure.

“No heartbeat detected, boss”.

Chapter 2

The first time he´d ever heard Peter´s voice, he´d been running on three hours of sleep, a frankly heart-attack inducing dose of caffeine, and no motivation whatsoever to sit down with stuffy board members for five hours.

It didn´t exactly come as a surprise that for the first few milliseconds of the “Itsy bitsy spider” chant in his head he´d thought, confusingly, that it might just have been his mind finally resorting to the resurface of old nursery rhymes as a way to tell him to go the frick to sleep.

His heart however, was another matter.

As ridiculous and improbable as it sounded, a new something in his chest rose even before he knew what was happening. He might not have been a machine, but something slowly and irrevocably clicked into place the more he heard that gentle voice go on about water spouts and suns.

He´d stopped short in realization. Blinked.

And then smiled wide enough to lose himself in the mirth of it.

He´d run back to his workshop right after that, laughing like mad with the absolute mayhem of emotions coursing through his whole being, almost crashing into Pepper in the process. She´d looked back at him in concern, questions already forming in her lips, before Tony had frantically mimed at her to keep quiet, wanting to listen to the soft voice´s final notes.

Once the song finished, Tony may or may not have let out a loud shriek of sheer joy and told an increasingly delighted Pepper all about it, practically bursting with excitement.

“Pep! Wait, what do I do now!? Do I- Do I sing it back to him? Do I sing another- crap I don´t even know any children´s songs, JARVIS, JARVIS!”

In the end he´d had to phone Rhodey to yell the news ecstatically to him, because he´d just found maybe the universe hadn´t wanted to screw him over after all, and he felt like screaming it from the rooftops. The little voice was sweet and shy and boyish and happy, and about the best thing Tony had heard in his damn life. He couldn´t have contained himself if he´d tried, and heck if he was going to any time soon.

(“Tones, what- “

“Rhodey!”

“…was that you or a screech owl.”

“It happened! There´s- a little kid! Somewhere! Spiders! My soulmate!”

“The- wait what-? “)

Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between.

…

He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again.

Burning.

He´s burning all over.

Screaming in pain, he tries to escape from the scorching heat, but it´s everywhere, it´s everything, he´s the pain, he´s the fire, everything hurts-

And then as soon as it appears, the pain is gone.

He opens his eyes, blinking woozily.

“Oh, thank God.”

His vision blurs all over for a minute. There´s dampness in the corners, left over from tears.

Tears?

He makes an attempt to sit up, but there´s a hand holding his shoulder gently. He blinks again.

Tries to decipher his surroundings.

He´s laying down in a mostly deserted, grubby looking street. A figure kneels close to him, some sort of red and gold robot type thing. He narrows his eyes at it, trying to figure out why it feels so familiar…but finds, to a detached kind of surprise, that he can´t.

He has no idea what happened.

The robot seems to be very relieved for some reason, just staring up at the sky for a couple of seconds, taking a deep, wheezy breath.

Even with his head feeling like wet cotton, he looks at him with concern. The robot sounds seconds away from fainting. Is he…alright?

When the robot´s face opens and a man´s head peeps out (cool!), he almost jumps back in surprise.

And then…

Well. He still doesn´t have a clue who this person is, but as soon as he sees the man´s expression of utter joy and relief, something inside him settles. Safe.

He blinks in confusion at the feeling. He knows this person. He does.

But who is he?

“Pete? You´re back bud. Do you feel okay?” The man´s (man? robot? man-robot? cyborg? figment of his imagination?) smile fades slightly, looking at him in worry. “FRIDAY” Friday? Who on earth is he talking to? “didn´t you say the CPR made his vitals-“

“I´m- I´m fine” he says, because enormous confusion aside, he is. Maybe his head is scrambled, and he feels exhausted, but he has a feeling he´s been in worse shape before.

A feeling.

The man (he´s decided on man) starts going on about robots, and getting him to a tower with someone called Dr. Cho, but all he can do is blink back, his confusion increasing.

“I´m really sorry” he interrupts, knowing he´s probably going to disappoint the man, but needing to push forward even so, “who- who are you? Are you-? “

He tries to put a word on the feeling seeing the man´s face had evoked in him before, tries to remember who he is or what he has to do with the man or why he feels so…safe. So safe. With him there, even with all the questions going round and round inside his head.

“Are you my dad?”

The man´s face stills. For a second, it looks like his brain short-circuits.

Mood, a thought rings out in his head, unbidden.

That´s when he hears it.

A huge metallic…thing coming through the street towards them, and he doesn´t know why but it makes his heart thump like a rabbit´s in a cage, and suddenly he gets a flash of remembering pain, and he knows these machines, these machines are dangerous, and what if the man gets hurt too-

He pushes the man behind him as he desperately tries to look for somewhere they can hide-

-but the man grabs his hand first and hurries them both towards the sturdiest-looking car on the street, crouching so they´re out of sight.

“Uh, alright. I- this must be really weird for you, but it´ll be okay. Just stay here for now, ´kay? I´ll- We´ll figure this out. You with me?” The man holds his gaze for a second, and it´s so sincere, he finds himself nodding.

The man smiles. “Okay. Give me a sec.” And then he gets up and turns towards the robot.

What the-what´s he doing!?

He reaches out clumsily to drag him back, but the man´s face gets obscured by his robot mask once more and he…

Flies?

The frick? He thinks in bewilderment, as he sees the man lift off and attack the robot with blasts coming from his hands. My maybe-dad can fly!?

Either he lives in a sci-fi novel, or he´s going absolutely nuts.

Could be both at this point, frankly.

The whiz of gold and red fighting the robot is almost quicker than his sight can keep up with, but he persists, looking out anxiously for any opening the robot might have to take the man down so he can try to warn him about it. There is none though, the robot might be exceedingly fast, but the man remains unyielding. He takes another look at the giant machine and sees it´s blaster-

And then it´s like someone takes his brain and shakes it around everywhere, and the throbbing is so sudden he kneels and clutches his head tightly to keep it from falling apart. His thoughts feel shattered and tampered with, and the pain-

He cries out in agony, and tears fill his eyes again.

The man! I have to look out for him!

He tries to listen to the fight again, but just as he tries to focus in on it it´s like a tsunami of yells and police sirens and voices washes over him, and noise, why is there so much noise-

Overwhelmed, he kneels until his forehead touches the grainy concrete, and wishes he would just pass out.

He doesn´t, though.

Among the oversaturated ocean of noise, one adds to the mix.

Except this one isn´t grating. This one doesn´t make everything seem like too much.

Because it feels like it´s coming from within himself.

He´s at a loss for what´s happening, but the voice slowly and lightly blocks out all the other noise, grounding him in a gentle tune. In a flash, he recognizes the song. He knows where he heard it last.

Mr Stark.

And he remembers.

“Kid? What are you doing up?”

He shrugs, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. Baby Tarzan laughs onscreen.

He half expects Mr Stark to push him for more details, but he seems to understand Peter´s not in a talking mood and walks up to him solemnly.

“Scoot.”

He does, and Mr Stark plops down next to him, wordlessly extending his arms out in invitation. Peter falls into the hug gratefully and sighs. Exhaustion pulls down on his bones, but he´d rather not get back to the nightmare he woke up from. Mr Stark snorts softly at something in the movie, and then they both jump a bit at the sudden loud gorilla roar. They keep watching the movie, and Peter´s curls are brushed back gently in a soothing motion.

He wants to sleep. But he can´t.

But he´s safe here, isn´t he?

His chest grows heavier as he thinks of the dream, and when he blinks, his eyelids dampen. He hasn´t shed a tear yet, but Mr Stark must sense something again because his hand at Peter´s hair stills.

And then he starts singing.

It´s a lulling comfort, and Peter melts into the embrace, allowing his tired eyes some rest.

He´s safe.

Come stop your crying

It will be alright

Just take my hand

Hold it tight

I will protect you

From all around you

I will be here

Don't you cry

He´s safe.

With a final shot from Iron man´s repulsors, the robot powers down, and Peter runs out to meet Mr Stark, almost crushing his ribs in a hug.

“Woah, woah!” The helmet´s visor pulls up, revealing a grinning Tony. “Did that actually work? FRIDAY told me you were freaking out and I thought it might help calm you down.” He says, hugging him back. “But it did more than that, didn´t it?”

Peter´s too relieved to do anything but nod happily into his shoulder, but he gets the point across.

They stay there for a full minute, just holding on to each other. Until Tony grumbles out a “and I can´t believe you remembered Phil Collins before Iron man, seriously.” and Peter bursts out laughing, lightening the mood.

“The man didn´t sing that soundtrack in five languages for nothing, Mr Stark. It slaps.”

Tony hides his smile in Peter´s curls, and hugs him close.

[keyofjetwolf]

Xena and M’Lila

I genuinely and sincerely love this show, and no question it was progressive in a lot of ways for its time. But there’s been nothing made by human hands that’s perfect, and I can’t help but wince a bit as I watched this episode, featuring M’Lila, the slave from “The Land of the Pharaohs”, and keep in mind that we’ll soon meet Lao Ma from “Chin”, and how both of these women were deeply impactful in the course of Xena’s life, recognizing her potential, teaching her signature skills, and then dying so the white woman can live and use their shit better than they did.

IT DOESN’T SIT SO WELL IN THIS THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2020.

That won’t be the focus of my discussions, but it would be disingenuous to not acknowledge it. It’s an ugly mark, and if the show ever gets a reboot, as has been rumoured for a while now, I hope the new creators do better on this front.

Xena meets M’Lila on the same day she meets Caesar. IT’S A BIG FUCKING DAY. Unfortunately, M’Lila is short-changed, not just by the episode, I think, but by the series as a whole. For as HUGE as her role in Xena’s life, she’s astonishingly under-mentioned (particularly versus Lao Ma, who comes up every other second once we learn of her). “Destiny” itself doesn’t really give her much either, what with the language barrier and then her going and dying and all.

Here’s a brief list of shit M’Lila does for Xena in this episode:

Did and then undid The Pinch on Xena’s leg (this is a bad episode for Xena’s leg)

Did and then undid The Pinch on Xena’s NECK (you know, the whole “you’ll be dead in thirty seconds” thing)

Taught Xena HER PIRATE CAPTOR how to do and undo The Pinch

Cautioned Xena against trusting Caesar and being wholly ignored

Hid well enough on a boat that an entire Roman legion couldn’t find her

Solo-invaded a Roman camp to rescue Xena from death by crucifixion

Dragged Xena for who the fuck knows how many miles to a healer

Took an arrow for and died for Xena

CAME BACK AS A SPIRIT TO SAVE HER ASS AGAIN

Inspired Xena’s breastplate armour and arm cuff design, probably.

YOU DESERVED BETTER M’LILA I’M SO SORRY

I really do wish the episode had done better splitting its time between Caesar and M’Lila, or at least taken a moment for her and Xena that was about THEM. We can infer a lot, and I’m not against that, but when we have AN ENTIRE MINUTE AND CHANGE for a slow ass sad sea montage, I start throwing side eyes.

Obviously, in their time together (I’d say months, at minimum), Xena makes a huge impact on M’Lila. I mean, fuck, what she winds up doing for Xena is proof enough of that. But ... what, exactly? It seems reasonable to assume that Xena spent most of her time with Caesar BONING Caesar, and she spends her time between Caesar leaving and Caesar smashing her legs in PINING for Caesar (if our 80-something second Sad Sea Montage is anything to go by), so Xena and M’Lila became bosom mates when? And WHY, I mean Xena’s functionally an angsty sixteen year old who can kill you on a whim, if I’m M’Lila, I’m thinking about running off with those dolphins from the montage.

AND XENA TOO. M’Lila’s death basically sets off TEN FUCKING YEARS OF CARNAGE. And the show goes out of its way to make sure we know it IS M’Lila’s death that does it, too, and not just Xena being sad about not having Karl Urban for a boyfriend.

We take several pointed seconds with Xena searching herself for an answer. ANGER IS XENA’S GO-TO IF SHE WERE TRULY ANGRY SHE’D FUCKING KNOW IT. All of her aside comments, too, indicate that Xena’s definitely having a bad time, quite possibly a little depressed, almost certainly embarrassed and feeling foolish and used, but angry? Nuh-uh.

Xena does make her choice tonight, a choice she’ll make again and again over the next decade-ish, but interestingly enough, that choice has little to nothing to do with Caesar. And so I wish SO MUCH that the episode had spent more time showing us why M’Lila.

Consequently, I feel I’m not really able so much to do a great job on this topic (WHICH SADDENS ME), because we just don’t have the same tools to build with as we do Caesar. BUT LET’S SEE WHAT WE CAN DO.

A lot of M’Lila works best, I think, as a collection of ideas and possibilities. When we first meet her, she fights so much like we’ll come to see of Xena, she almost feels like a spirit. M’Lila is TOUGH and FAST, and honestly how the fuck anyone was able to keep her enslaved is beyond me, but okay. She’s bested by Xena, only just, and really becomes quite amendable after that. We don’t see it happen, but she most likely taught Xena a lot about fighting beyond just The Pinch, and those are lessons Xena still applies to this day.

Alongside Future Xena, though, M’Lila represents a different path Xena might have walked. The world they live in is pretty god awful, with the strongest routinely and violently taking from the weakest, We know Xena rallying her village to stand up to warlords didn’t go super great, but they DID win the day, and Amphipolis DID remain an independent town after Xena put her “all enemies of Amphipols get to eat my sword” plan into action. Does that mean Xena had to become the thing she was defending against to keep from possibly being enslaved and dying? Hell no, that’s the entire point of the fucking show. Xena makes her choices, XENA CONSISTENTLY MAKES HER CHOICES. But not making a choice is also a choice, and choices have consequences. These might have been Xena’s.

We also can’t overlook M’Lila’s compassion (though in the same breath I laughingly note how she left all her other shipmates strung up, OOPS). Assuming Caesar’s assessment was correct, M’Lila has been a slave since she was a child. Presuming she had only recently managed to successfully escape, her time with Xena may well have been the first in memory she’d spent it free. From what we know of Xena to that point, M’Lila is the first and possibly only person since her own family drove her away to show her kindness.

But at the end of it all, sadly, M’Lila’s purpose is to die show Xena the way she COULD be, the things she COULD do with the skills and abilities she possesses, so that Xena can go “Mm, no thanks.”

M’Lila is an excuse. A really good excuse, don’t get me wrong! However I wish the episode had done a better job with it, I truly believe Xena’s pain and grief at M’Lila’s murder. Xena has loved and trusted so few people in her life, and when the world hurts her, all she wants is to hurt the world in return. (***MAKE A MENTAL NOTE WE WILL RETURN TO THIS IDEA***)  But really, M’Lila is the excuse Xena wields, the fuel she uses to burn down EVERYTHING.

And you know, I say that, and I think I’ve talked myself into a good headcanon for why Xena doesn’t bring up M’Lila more. Oh the shit she’s done in her name. Even if she never said it, that’s what it was. Of all the things M’Lila didn’t deserve, that has got to fucking rank. Yeah, I’m not sure I”d feel worthy of evoking her again either.

Really though: SORRY M’LILA YOU DESERVED BETTER

[minniewoos]

By the Stars ➣ Bang Chan

Genre: dystopian au, angst

Word count: 6,014

Warnings: terminal illness, prescription drug abuse, a moody Minho

Summary: The people of Mars live under constant surveillance and constant control; living in awful polluted conditions. Your brother, Jeongin, is sick. To save him you try to escape to Earth, your friend Chan helps you along the way.

The planet breathes smoke and fire.

Smog drifted up in thick, ashen pillars; hundreds of stacks ascending up towards the duel moons. Pinkish ruby skies were dulled to a cinnabar hue, poisoned from the constant outpour of smoke. Exhaust from the pristine cubes dotting the surface of the planet, between the small humble neighborhoods, large, off-white buildings whose purpose was for the ultimate happiness of humanity. People called those buildings the Cubes. It was considered a pleasure to work in them, for them, and for the human race, and you’re reminded of it every time you walk past. “LIVE TO SERVE” was embossed on every one of them. You served humanity, at least the portion who lived on Earth. The Cubes cranked out mass productions of illustrious, high-end products for the people of Earth to use or consume. It was the highest-ranking job on the planet aside from being a part of the royal court.

What is this planet? Well, its called it Mars. Colonized long ago by earthen prisoners. By people who were on death row because of their horrid crimes. Sent here to perform hard labor until their inevitable deaths. Those were your ancestors. But well…that was centuries ago, there have been many generations since the first colonies. Now, you were technically Martians but not really aliens. You were certainly human, and the only purpose in life was to produce luxury products for the people of Earth. But most people don’t seem to mind, this is all you’ve ever known. What a life.

There was constant smoke in the air due to the uncontrolled pollution, and it was the worst down in the trenches. A couple hundred feet below the surface, you lived in these canyons where the sun was hardly seen. And at night when curfew was enforced and the lanterns were blown out, these trenches were like an abyss. Impossible to see and impossible to escape. This is where the poorer citizens lived, aka, you. 

But you’re probably the only one who thought of it that way. To your neighbors and friends, it was only a place to sleep before they woke up once more and continued their daily schedules. Your face twisted in disgust at the thought, none of them had a single idea or feeling of their own. And you know it’s not their fault; their heads were dulled with meds while their thoughts were constricted by the constant business your schedules demanded. It was near impossible to think, especially when the king tells everybody what to think. People don’t just live by what he says, they revere him and the people of Earth. It made you sick. It was brainwashing and it was effective.

Your eyes wandered towards the planet’s two moons. The rising Phobos and then to Deimos, as they rise and fall the red skies turn blue before shifting to black. It’s beautiful. But a shame the sight was being choked by the ash in the air, grey specks floating in the sky like always. It was still so ugly, like the black clouds spewing from the Cubes. The nasty pollution was suffocating the once beautiful planet.

“CURFEW IN TEN. I REPEAT, CURFEW IN TEN.” Several guardians stationed around this area of the trenches announced at once, cold mechanic voices resounding off the canyon walls. Their eyes started flashing red to signal the urgency of it, while yours just turned away from them. Guardians, ugly, metallic creatures were basically soldiers who controlled every aspect of life; people were under constant surveillance. It was suffocating. A few stragglers like you were finishing up their tasks and rushing into their homes. And at about five minutes before curfew, everyone’s wrist would start flashing, the last warning.

You sighed as you turned back towards your wagon. You unhooked it from your bike and collected your supplies, the things you didn’t sell, and the things you bought. When you walked inside, you were greeted by the dull lantern light and your brother already lying in his sheets, coughing up a lung. He was only a few years younger than you and the only family you had left. And ever since he came down with sickness, life got much harder and you became the main breadwinner. 

“Y/n, you come home later every day.”

A weak smile, “Yea, I know. I’m sorry, Jeongin, but we can’t afford more time.”

“No, I’m sorry. Right now I’m just a burden.” He sat up, coughing as he did so. He shook his head, “I can’t work anymore and I know it’s hard to provide me.”

“Jeongin.” You turned towards him, a serious look settled on your face. “You will never be a burden on me. You are my little brother and I have no problem looking out for you. Come on, lay back down, you know how the guardians get with curfew.”

While putting the supplies away before bed, you tossed the useless meds in the disposal, just as you had been doing for the past several nights. Since you’ve been doing that, your mind cleared up immensely and it was like a blessing. Since then, Jeongin stopped taking the required meds and he’s come to notice more things as well. You’ve both agreed that the meds were given by the king to fog the citizens’ heads to prevent a revolution. But you do try to help his illness, a lung disease caused by the mass pollution on the planet; unfortunately the king provides the medicine for that too, and it doesn’t seem to be helping Jeongin. You’ve known many people to contract the disease, and the survival rate: 5%. Sighing sadly, you finish your nightly routine and make sure to shut the blinds in your tiny, three-room home. You blow the lanterns out, shading the small house in darkness so the Guardians don’t come by. You lay your head on your pillow and your mind went blank, peace.

Exactly 9 hours later, it was morning, you yawned and leaned your head against the wall of your small, wooden stall, stocked with daily portions. If people could afford them, they came and ate, if they couldn’t, then they worked more to afford the food. Another day out working and nothing’s changed with everything relatively the same, except right now, Chan stopped by. A kind boy who worked in the repair shop next door, he visited your food stall often. He gets hungry often, so sometimes you’d slip him an extra ration when you could afford it. You’ve been friends for a while, which you’re glad for. It’s hard to make friends when all you do it eat, sleep, and work. You wake up, leave the trenches, work on the surface, and then go back home to the trenches; so a friend livens up the day. Especially a friend like Chan, who is truly one of a kind. Even when everybody in this society is dulled by the meds, Chan’s light somehow shines through. It’s hard to explain, but he stuck out and was certainly a sight for sore eyes. So you try to make time in the schedules, and it’s easier since he works next door to your rickety food cart.

“You’ve been tired lately, why? Maybe you need a stronger prescription.” Chan’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as he bit into his lunch ration for the day. You frown at the mention of the medication, medication you’ve stopped taking.

You paused for a moment, then shook your head, “No, that’s not it. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Is it Jeongin?”

You nod, a slight irritation bubbling inside of you, “His meds for Soot Lung haven’t helped at all, and then why would the king or the guardians care about him? He’s only a vendor’s sister, barely out of school now. You have no idea how many letters I sent the palace begging for help. Begging Chan. But nothing will change because everything is contaminated on this stupid planet, we can’t even breathe properly!” You slammed a fist down, shifting everything in your little stall. You couldn’t care less, but as for Chan, he gave you a look like you just talked back to the king himself. “What, why do you look so worried?”

“You’re being really emotional,” he stood up and looked down at you, concern written on his face, “are you sure you’re okay. You’ve been acting weird lately anyway.“ 

You stared at him for a moment, then on a whim, in your lowest voice, you uttered to him, “Do you trust me.”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?”

Chan’s Adam’s apple dipped and he took a shaky breath before nodding, a sure and absolute nod. You purse your lips, you trusted Chan, of course you did. Without him, you wouldn’t know where you would be. He and Jeongin were the only things that were able to bring a smile to your face. Emotions were something undeniably human, and they were being suppressed by the king; without the meds, people would be able to live freely, to think freely. You wanted Chan to experience the same sense of freedom as you have discovered. Your hesitance came with what Chan would think. Chan, just like everyone else, was a slave to this society. Everyone had to work, everyone had to worship the king, and everyone had to think the same. You were the outlier here, but you clasped his hands in yours and looked at him pleadingly. 

“Then, my good good friend, please stop taking the meds. Just trust me and for one week…throw them in the disposal. And nobody will know.” You squeezed his hands in yours, from across your stall, and looked at him with a fire he’s probably never witnessed in a single person before. “It’s-It’s like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, like a lock was broken and I can finally express myself. These emotions I’m feeling, they were amplified by ten…! It feels freeing in a way. Those meds suppress us, and they’re used to control us. And sometimes, like now, I want the people around me to experience these emotions as well…”

Chan eyed your face for any sign of lies or jests. And when he found none, his eyes turned fearful, “Y/n…you know that we live to serve the people of Earth. Those emotions you’re feeling are not for us. They aren’t for us as they weren’t for our ancestors.”

“Just one week,” you insisted, your voice low once more, “Try it for one week. Our ancestors’ faults should not be our own. Will you do it?”

Chan paused for one half of a moment, a half a moment of deep thought, then nodded. You took his hand in yours and grinned, as did he. The thought of Chan choosing you, made you overwhelmingly happy. Because as of now, he gave you hope.

∎∎∎

It’s been several nights since then, and you’ve come up with a thought. A crazy, impossible, and life-threatening thought. One purely for Jeongin.

You will go to Earth.

Earth, as you’ve heard, was clean. The sky was a beautiful blue hue. You could breathe and your lungs don’t turn black, you could look up and the sky was clear, and you could even drink from the rivers! Everything was clean on Earth. The air on Earth could clean your brother’s lungs; as you’ve heard, the air itself could heal the planet’s infamous Soot Lung. Soot Lung was very common on the planet, and you’re not sure how many die from it, but Jeongin isn’t going to be one of them. You told Jeongin a couple days ago, and he agreed; you presented the idea to Chan the day after, and he also agreed. Seemingly much more determined and motivated lately, the change was nice, but much more sudden then you expected.

And today between work and curfew, you had only an hour, you would visit a dock worker called Minho. A friend of Chan’s, apparently. And Chan said he’s been a smuggler for a while; never explicitly explained to him, but Chans not dumb, he found it obvious. Jeongin’s condition was worsening by the day and you didn’t have much time left. His breathing was short and faint. If only time had a price, you’d be willing to pay anything for that. But for now, you can only race time. And by the stars, you were sprinting for your lives.

“Are you Minho?” you asked a guy hauling a crate to the end of a dock, he was stocking a shipment to Earth. The massive ship settled at the edge of it, doors open, ready to be filled.

The docks were not by water or contained the boats used on Earth. Mars has no need for large bodies of waters, or rains, or any precipitation. The only snow you receive is the dusty, black, yet gentle ash floating in the atmosphere. Instead, the docks were filled with large spaceships ready for takeoff into the cosmos. And the dock workers simply loaded the shipments up and sent the valuable goods off to Earth. But, if you were clever, you could take advantage of the low-ranking job and smuggle a thing or two to make some extra cash. Maybe a couple tablets of Ecstasy or a bottle of Pleasure, whatever it takes to live a bit comfier. Some even snuck people onto the ships to go to Earth, those were the people with nothing to lose…or a death wish. Of course, if you get caught, you disappear immediately. The king had a no tolerance policy with this planet.

But as you surveyed this guy in front of you, a man in his early twenties at best, you wouldn’t have had the tiniest suspicion he’d be involved in such illegal activities. He looked virtually harmless with a fair complexion and a small, round face. He was a dock worker and lugged boxes and crates all day, but he was slim and lean, not at all what you expected from a supposed smuggler. But to his credit, his eyes were sharp, steely, and wise; it gave you some comfort in the reliability he exuded.

“What about it?” he snapped at me, and you were taken aback by the harshness. The tone contradicting his soft features.

“Chan told me about you, we want to make it to Earth-”

“Shut it!” He slaps a hand over your mouth before you could continue, “If you want to leave, the dock is the last place to talk about this. There are guardians everywhere.”

You pulled his hand off your mouth, “Fine, when can we talk?”

He scowled, “Depends on the pay and if you’re dumb or not. But guessing from your introduction, you’re not the brightest.”

Your bit back a retaliation and pulled out your bag of coins, “This is all I have, please my brothers really sick.”

Minho only scoffed, “That’s not enough for a tablet of Ecstasy. This whole crate is worth more than your life. Come back when you’re not going to waste my time.” he turned his back to you. He continued to haul the crates onto the ship. You felt the blood rushing to your face; you couldn’t tell if that meant anger or embarrassment, but you knew you didn’t like it.

“Then how bout this?” A bag full of coins was thrown at Minho’s feet, probably valued over thrice the amount you offered. And it was Chans. you turned around and almost yelled at him, but you held back to try to keep control. So you simply asked, “Why are you here?”

“I’m the one who recommended him to you, you think I’m not going too?” Chan said, undeniably sure of himself. He worked a higher-paying job than you, and didn’t have to spend as much. It only made sense for him to have more money than you did, but it wasn’t as much as the people who worked in the Cubes made. And even though he was your good friend, you didn’t want him going and risking his life. 

You could feel the blood rising again, there was no way you’d let yourself be the reason for a possible death. And death was very possible. If Chan died, you’d have that guilt on your shoulders forever. You didn’t care about yourself; this was for Jeongin, and this is your last resort. Meanwhile, Minho looked from coins to Chan, a look of contemplation on his face.

“Fine, but the only reason I’m taking you is because of Chan; I can do it.” Minho said, picking up the bag of coins. He side-glanced you, “And he seems to have some common-sense.”

“Thanks, Minho, we won’t be a problem.” Chan said gratefully, a small smile curving the corners of his lips.

“I believe you won’t be the problem,” Minho said harshly then nodded at you, “don’t let them ruin this.”

Chan looked at you, then only nodded towards Minho.

“Now get out of here before we all disappear.”

You huffed on the way home to the trenches with Chan, he only snickered at you; he was amused. You sent a displeased look his way and crossed your arms. You and Chan fell into step together over the red terrain and under your setting sun. The normally red skies began fading to a light, beautiful blue hue as your sun was going to sleep. It was a beautiful sight. Still, simultaneously and wordlessly, you quickened your pace, dreading the possibility of being late to curfew. You and Chan were virtually alone on the quaint road; although there were a couple other stragglers and a few guardians stationed at their posts, It felt as though you were the only two people at this moment. It was then where he nudged your hand with his before slipping it into yours, lacing and locking your hands together. Although a simple moment, a walk home at sunset, your chest bloomed and warmed as a certain feeling spread throughout it. It was cozy, and snug, and secure, and- and safe. In that moment, a feeling you can’t recall experiencing before; many feelings you hadn’t experienced before. You glanced at Chan, and so did he; you squeezed his hand fondly, and so did he.

It was quiet the rest of the walk, but peaceful. Then you arrive at the trench entrance, a rickety old lift that carried passengers to the bottom. Before you let go of his hand to board the creaky lift, you had a sudden urge. You began to get nervous and shy, blood rushed to your cheeks and they became red; it was an unusual feeling you had. You never felt it before, but the more you stared at Chan, the more nervous you became. You unconsciously swallowed. And before the uncomfortable feeling became any stronger, you suddenly leaned in closer, placing a kiss against his lips. It was impulsive and spontaenous but spoke things that words couldn’t.

Shock and a stillness, but Chan soon reciprocated and kissed back as that feeling from before exploded in your chest. And it only elevated as Chan wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you close. It felt unreal, and kind of magical. It was only when you pulled away that you realized what you were feeling, it was love.

You’ve only ever heard of the feeling, and you’ve certainly loved before, but it wasn’t as intense and raw as this moment. And as you looked at Chan, his eyes said the same thing. His cheeks were blushing red and it was like he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. 

“Chan…” You whispered, his shirt in your clenched hands, not wanting to let go.

“…yes?” 

“I-” you paused, but only for a second, “I love you.”

The smile that broke across his face could only be described as warm, loving, and very very happy. His arms tightened around you and he pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on you. “I love you too, y/n. God, I’ve never felt this happy before.”

“Me too,” You smiled joyously. 

 After another moment together, you said your farewells and waved goodbye as the lift descended. The reluctance to say goodbye was clear, but it was necessary. The Guardians were strict. And Chan didn’t live in the trenches, he lived above ground. Better conditions but less freedom, if any.

“Get home safe.” You called out to him, and he smiled at you.

∎∎∎

It was five days, five days with absolutely no word from Chan. He hasn’t been at work; he hasn’t been seen or heard of from anybody. And your mind could only go to the worse. You made him late for curfew. That had to be the reason. And just thinking about that made your heart sink. If the guardians caught Chan then, who knows what they would do to him; they would find out he wasn’t taking his meds and the punishment for that is… You shook your head, but the thoughts still didn’t disappear. It devastated you, Chan has become a part of your daily routine and not seeing him for days worried you to no end, especially after what happened. 

But you still planned on making it to Earth with Jeongin. He’s been overcome by lassitude for a while now, and you can’t wait any longer. No matter how much it broke you.

“Hey- Y/n.” you heard Jeongin say weakly.

“Oh, yes?”

“When are we going to Earth? Where’s that guy you spoke of.”

“We’re leaving soon, I talked and arranged everything. And…” you tried swallowing a lump in your throat, then a voice crack, “I… I don’t know. Jeongin, I have no idea where he is.”

“Did you treasure him…?” Meekly and innocently, Jeongin looked at you, his wide eyes bright as he already knew the answer. But the simple inquiry was enough to set a switch off; everything inside yourself you tried to compose leaked out.

Your eyes began to burn as tears welled up and brimmed on your eyes. You sniffed, took a great, shaky breath in, then out. You looked at Jeongin, a pained smile etched itself onto your face, he’s the only one you have now. Your beloved little brother, and even he’s about to be taken right from you if you don’t act soon.

“That man’s name was Chan, and-and he was warm and kind and gentle. He was smart, too; he might not have looked like it though. He took care of me when I refused to take care of myself…and I like to think I did the same for him. Chan was my only friend on our planet. Our ugly, vile, corrupt planet filled to the brim with depravity.” Before you knew it, your despair over Chan soon morphed into a wave of anger over the foul system that took him from you.

“With a king who treats us like cogs in a machine; slaves to him and slaves to Earth. And the worst of it, nobody else sees the awful state they are forced to be in. Meds meds meds. They pump fog into your mind and force meaningless smiles onto your faces; a fake contentedness that’s truly quite eerie. A planet full of suppressed emotions; there exists no anger, no love, no hope, no sorrow. No nothing! Nothing! We are thrown into schooling as soon as possible to only learn to be servants. Well, I don’t want to be a servant! I want these emotions, no matter how painful I want to feel. Jeongin, in school, you learned about emotions the people on Earth feel, right? Well, without the goddamned meds, we feel those as well; that’s what they don’t teach you huh.” you laughed bitterly; you frantically tapped your fingers against your table.

The king throws all the children into school at around four years old, and I’ve heard it’s younger if you live in the upper classes. But all they do is teach you how to “live to serve.” They show the history of your planet and the superiority the people of Earth have over us due to your ancestors’ faults. That’s the only story your children will ever hear, it’s drilled into you. Your children never get approbation or praise for any achievements made; they don’t deserve it. They don’t deserve the luxury of fables or fairy tales, that’s reserved for the people of Earth. At the age of sixteen, you’re assigned a role to play in society and thrown out into the world. And you were assigned to be a simple vendor. A measly food vendor to sell small rations to those who could afford it. Jeongin, while having a better job than you, still didn’t get paid much as an entertainer for the royal court. He used to sing for them and they loved his unique voice, how ironic he contracted Soot Lung. 

You sighed and helped Jeongin stand up, he leaned against you, “Okay Jeongin, we’re going now.”

“Y/n,” He coughed before leaning against you once more for support, “We will get through this together. You are one of the strongest people I know. You’re my big sister. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

Jeongin flashed his bright signature smile, a smile that never failed to brighten your mood. And you smiled back with his words, words that gave you confidence. You made your way to the docks, determined to keep Jeongin safe.

When you arrived at the meeting spot near the docks but away from prying eyes, you were surprised to see two other people there with Minho. They were a couple, a boy and a girl. You looked at Minho inquisitively.

“Don’t give me that look, you’re all going to Earth. Just follow my instructions, and don’t be dumb.” He announced to you, glanced at Jeongin, then added, “I’ll be joining this time.”

“You’re going too?“ 

Minho nodded, “We all have our reasons to escape this hell. I’m going to take these two to a separate ship, it may take a while so just wait here in the meantime.”

You nodded and so did Jeongin, but before he left, he paused and turned to you specifically.

“I’ll send Chan over to you to wait with you. Okay?” Minho whispered, as casual as he could be, as if it were no big deal to you. But your eyes nearly bugged out of your head with how wide they got, the news was sudden and completely unexpected. You went into this believing Chan was unreachable, taken away from you by the Guardians. But here Minho was, Chan’s friend, telling you that Chan was alive?

“Wh-what?” you stammered dumbly.

“I’m sending Chan over.” Minho repeated, starting to get annoyed.

“He’s okay? Really? I haven’t seen him in days, oh god, I was so worried. Minho, are you being serious?” You rambled on, the anxiety from missing Chan was being let go now. 

“Yes.” Minho snapped, “Now be quiet and stay here. Nobody will find you guys. And Chan can explain things to you.”

And with that Minho left with the other two stowaways, and you huffed, slightly annoyed by his snappy attitude. But that was quickly forgotten at the thought of seeing Chan again.

Jeongin smiled as the two of you sat in a small hidden space, “Now I get to see that boyfriend of yours.”

A blush crawled up your neck and your glared at Jeongin, embarrassed, “He’s not my boyfriend, come on, don’t tease me.”

“Ah but you’re blushing y/n.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Ah shut up!”

Jeongin’s devilish smile was back and you were pouting at him, he never let the opportunity to tease you go. You shook your head at him and was thinking of something to say when Jeongins smile dropped a slightly, but then came back brighter than before. You figured he found pleasure in your suffering.

“What do you think of Chan?” He asked, his eyes wandering to look behind you.

“Ah come on, you know the answer to that already Jeongin, stop teasing.” You whined, and then followed his gaze and looked behind you. Your breath seemed to halt. Because there stood Chan, a smile on his face as you locked eyes with him. You mirrored him and stood up immediately. Relief flooded through you to see him for yourself, “You’re okay!”

“Of course I am, you can’t get rid of me that easy.” He smiled, and opened his arms to hug you, which you gladly accepted and practically tackled him in a hug. But he barely budged and just wrapped his arms around you and a big, comforting embrace. You rested your head on him, closing your eyes and smiling in that moment.

“I missed you.”

“It’s only been a few days.”

“Yea, but I still missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“Yuck.” Jeongin had enough of the very visible displays of cheesy affection from you two and audibly voiced his distaste. “Not in front of me please.”

You looked at Jeongin and stuck your tongue out at him childishly, mocking him. He just mirrored your actions, mocking you. Meanwhile, Chan laughed softly, humored by the sibling interactions. You suddenly realized, this is Chans first time meeting your brother.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, then put a hand over your mouth, realizing you should be quiet. Then continued in a softer tone, “Chan, this is Jeongin. Jeongin, this is Chan.”

Jeongin stood up, albeit slowly, and held out a hand to greet Chan. Which Chan took confidently, a smile on his face since he was finally able to meet the brother you cared so much for. Jeongin cast a playful glare, “Be careful with her, she’s hard to handle.”

“Hey.” You pouted, offended.

“Yea, I know, I’m used to it.”

“Hey!” You smacked Chan’s arm.

He laughed, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, only teasing you. You leaned into him and looked at him seriously, “Hey…so you have some explaining to do.”

“Ah, yea… I do.” Chan hesitated, then went to sit down next to Jeongin and you followed him. “I’m not hurt, so you don’t have to worry.”

You nodded and waited patiently for him to continue.

“Well, I was late for curfew, only barely. I was on my street when curfew passed and a Guardian had caught me. I was taken to some holding cell and just kinda sat there for a day, but eventually they came back.” Chan’s eyebrows furrowed and he stared at the ground as he continued. “They came back to give me my daily meds, but I only pretended to take them. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen to me, actually. But they drew some blood from me, and well, they found out I wasn’t taking the meds… They almost killed me-but I’m okay!”

Chan quickly reassured once more, looking to you and knowing how worried you must’ve been, he didn’t want to add more stress. “The cells were old, since they barely hold anybody in them, and there was a broken lock so I was able to escape. But I couldn’t just go back to normal life, I’d be punished by death. So, well, I went to Minho…he wasn’t happy. But he helped me hide out till now.” Chan laughed awkwardly, grateful for his agitated friend. He was still staring at the ground, nodding his head as if to confirm what he experienced was real. 

“How did you and Minho become friends?” Jeongin asked, confused how two completely different people got along.

“We’ve known each other since really little, we talked more than others so we got along naturally. People change over the years, but, we still get along quite well.” Chan explained with a small smile. He then looked up to see Minho walking up to you guy, “Speak of the devil.”

“Talking about me, I see.” Minho said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Let’s go, get up quick, the faster we are the better our chances are.”

You and Chan supported Jeongin as Minho lead all of you through a maze of crates, and eventually into the loading dock. It was quite secluded and you were the only ones there, for now. Minho was ahead of the group by a few paces, leading the way to a couple large crates. He cracked two open, revealing they were only half filled with the luxury goods, and looked back at the group. But your attention was at the ship taking off, already a good three-hundred feet in the sky heading towards Earth. The boys followed your gaze towards the spaceship.

“That’s the ship the other couple were on, I believe that’s going to some place in the Americas. A nice couple actually, their story was similar to yours.” Minho explained, then looked at you and Chan. “I heard the Americas are one of the richer places to be on Earth, but anywhere on Earth is better than anywhere on here. I really do hope the best for-”

Minho’s moment of sentiment was abruptly cut off as a huge explosion shook the atmosphere. You gasped in horror and looked towards the source, it was the ship, the same one the couple from before were on. And it was already in shambles, pieces flying down from the sky in flaming chunks. You were confused on how that happened until you was a rocket fly towards it, and explode when it came into contact with a larger chunk of the ship. It broke into smaller pieces as well, essentially guaranteeing the destruction of anything aboard that ship. Minho hissed in enraged panic, sucking in a large breath before pushing the crates onto the ship you were about the board. 

“Follow me in!” He yelled, urgent and loading the cargo without haste. None of you hesitated to follow directions. Minho wasted no time in loading the rest of the cargo that was needed, it seemed like this was the last load needed for this shipment to Earth. Minho swore and rambled, “Whenever the king finds out about stowaways, he just blows up the entire fucking ship. Jackass doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

He closed the large door for the ship, then did some security measures before leading the three of you towards the two half-empty crates from before. 

“I have buddies on Earth who will help once we land, Earth doesn’t condone what goes on here on Mars, but nearly no media coverage is on it. But they accept refugees, thankfully. Chan and y/n in that crate.” Minho pointed to one, then to the other, “Jeongin and me in this one. You two get in first and I’ll seal the crate.”

“Wait…the king doesn’t know about us??” You asked frantically, “What happens to us?”

“It’s either we take this risk or we die anyway.” Minho frowned, “This is better than continuing to live in this hellhole.”

You looked down for a moment, then to Jeongin and nodded. Agreeing with Minho. Whatever happens, happens.

You smiled at Jeongin, “I’ll see you on the other side buddy.”

“You better greet me with a smile.” He smiled back at you as you climbed into the crate with Chan, a tight fit, but a fit nonetheless. Minho grimly shut and sealed the crate, leaving the closed space in darkness with the exception of a few holes poking light through. 

Chan held you close as you all waited to see what your fates were, but whatever they were at this point, they would be better than before. You and Chan spoke no words as you listened to Minho seal the crate beside you, and then silence. Your heart wouldn’t settle no matter how hard you tried to calm down. But all you could do was sit and wait; wait for what felt like an hour until the ship finally began to rumble. Chan held your hand and held you close, your head resting on his shoulder in that solemn moment. Liftoff. 

a/n: so, hope you enjoyed :)

I wrote this for class sometime last year and it’s just been sitting in my docs since. I liked the idea so I took it, heavily edited it, and here it is now. It’s still a little eh some parts, but I hope y’all like it. Also thought it was a fitting story cause of Astronaut dropping recently

[willtasker]

November 7, 2009 - All Things Are Worse In The Dark

It had been a lifetime since I last heard from her. I'm not sure why we stopped talking in the first place - no, I take that back. We stopped talking because I was thick-skulled; thats specific enough while still being mere insinuation. But it had been a long time coming, and the cold, lingering fear that I would go on with my life without her would send me into panic attacks. They were so bad that I would sometimes shake uncontrollably, as if being flash frozen.

Rewind to this past spring: I had a meltdown. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt in my life, an absolute overwhelming constant of emotion. It was like someone reached into my gut and turned a dial so high on the emotional register than the knob snapped off. I felt everything at once, things bottled up emotionally and mentally for over ten years came roaring out uninvited in the matter of minutes. It was every sad, horrible, wonderful, happy, painful, ugly moment in my life revisited at once. I'm still processing it, especially considering what triggered it which was so embarrassing I can't even write about it here.

I wrote to her, desperate for something in return. A response, a kind word, a phone call. The living fear within consumed me for weeks and I was left wringing my cold hands as I waited with growing unease. The reply came much later - so much later I was wondering if she even read it to begin with - and the reply filled me with such grief that no one had ever felt before. One friend in South Africa stayed up with me the whole night via AIM; I had to be held by a close friend for hours the next day. In the days following, I didn't eat and sleeping was sporadic at best; I only spoke when asked something. I continued to exist in that dumb, grey shock and still do - but came to realize that through the whole cancer scare, I wasn't afraid of death so much as dying and her finding out too late.

The mind wanders in such a state and all the things it finds are torturous. The first time you saw her, the first time you talked, her hair against the autumn wind, the first time you had the best sex of your life with the woman you felt beyond-the-instinctive should have your children. And then the imagination takes all those memories and plays with them - leaving her in the picture, but replacing you with someone else. It made me sick beyond anything anyone has ever felt, as all grief of this type is singular to each person and thus is the worst single thing any one human has ever experienced. It transcends all. But the worst was yet to be discovered.

And here it is: It is the very basic element that all this abject horror and animalistic shame I carry within me is based on. I have kept so many words from her - emails, notes passed, cards, a book inscription that still smells like her, random things she said over the phone and I quickly scratched down on paper to save - and there is such gentle care with how each thing was said. Each one had specific, clear purpose of an overwhelming quality. I've kept them all - they're under lock and key in a nondescript box sitting on my bedroom dresser. (I wonder if she did the same?)

I keep them there because in my fear there is an absolute certainty she would take them away from me. That she would deny them or tell me she never meant it or didn't mean them as much as I thought or perhaps the worst of all - turn around and say them to someone else. Or she would tell me they were dead, that those words were no longer viable, that she had moved on and those few intimate-of-intimates I had kept were no longer from her. Even the very insinuation that they were from the past and not living, breathing gasps of possibility would hurt more than I dare think of. So I keep that box hidden, desperate to keep it safe because I know I would die if even one of them was taken from me. I don't think she'd do such a thing - but they form a religion inside myself of which I am the only priest, and so they must live through me.

And amongst that religion there are prayers unspoken and understood. How that years ago (and I doubt she remembers this) one conversation somehow took a strange turn. We had started to make plans to go out to a nice restaurant, coat and tie style. I told her I couldn't dance which was somehow more amusing than I expected but she made me promise that the first slow dance would be with her. Embarrassingly, I admitted I'd never even had so much as a slow dance before, and she was then even more insistent. I'm keeping that promise; thats not something undone or refuted anymore than that was something she said on a whim.

There is still so much to say with only the rest of my life to say it in; I may never get to say it to her and I curse myself each day that passes where I do not. I will never be able to play for her that bit of Lee Holdridge that makes me think of her so strongly its as if she is in the room with me. I'll never be able to try to cook for her after we had joked about it for so long. And that promise we'd take long drives in the dark under the night sky may very well never happen, not even in another life and the absoluteness of grief and shame from this seems to chain me to immortality.

Despair drives everything from me - shapes and forms, light and dark. All things are lost to the void and everything is made equally worthless as I grope towards nothing. That quiet form, that gentle voice - how I need it more than ever and am now denied it. How much I have lost because of who I was, how much have I suffered because of who I am now. Even after writing this, I see it describes only the smallest measure of suffering I feel any waking moment.

I am yours. Command me.

[samanthasroberts]

5 Things You Grew Up With (Your Kids Will Think Are Insane)

At this very moment you are living in the future that your ten-year-old self was pretty sure was going to be up to its nuts in robot butlers and cyber ham. Unless you’re ten right now in which case what the fuck? Your parents let you read this? I could literally start talking about dildos at any moment. I hope you go to them with any confusing questions you may have so they can assure you I’m not real and there’s no reason to take anything I say seriously. That aside, you’re also living in a time when today’s ten-year-old will have no idea what you went through to get to this point. Just look at all this non-dildo stuff that has been lost to history.

5

Phones Used To Buzz Into Your Earhole When Nobody Was On The Line

You have a phone, right? There’s a good chance you’re reading this on your phone. There’s a better chance you use your phone as a phone far less than you use it as a device to type and read making it kind of bizarre they bother to call it a phone when that’s probably third down the list of things it does. No one calls a cat a “sand shitter,” even though that happens more than you use your phone as a phone. But pooping in sandboxes aside, remember dial tones?

You probably haven’t considered this in a while, and if you still have a landline phone, maybe you still have a dial tone? I wouldn’t know, I don’t have a landline phone. But I know I don’t have a dial tone and legit haven’t heard one in years. Now imagine the kid born after 2010 who while vaguely aware of the concept of phones that have squiggly, pig-tail wires attached to them would have no idea why the damn thing drills a ceaseless robo-fart into your ear every time you pick it up. If a kid picks up a phone today and hears a dial tone, they’re going to assume it’s busted. Like bad busted, too, because it’s never made that sound before.

In days of yore when everything had to be plugged into something, the dial tone was a friendly reminder that your phone worked, because there was literally no other way to know your phone was working. It didn’t do anything. There wasn’t anything to look at or charges to adjust or battery life to keep an eye on. It was an ugly-ass lunch box with a plastic half brick you pressed to your flesh. The dial tone was the phone saying “Hey friend, why don’t you give grandma a call? Also waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!”

Those days are gone now and they never need to come back. The next generation is not just going to be unaware of a dial tone, they’re going to have to Google the term because it means nothing.

4

Credits Meant The Movie Was Over

When I was a kid, nothing sucked more than watching a movie on TV and waiting for the next show to start as the damn credits rolled. Nothing. Not war or famine or Full House. You watched the credits only because you wanted to see what was on that channel next and were too lazy to leave the room or, you know, live a life. If you’d rented a video, you pressed stop as soon as that first name started to scroll up because credits were how you knew the movie was over. Did all those people work hard to make this film? Sure, but I don’t know them or anything, they don’t need me to read their names. Your parents didn’t stick around to watch the school play after your part was over, they threw their beer cans on the floor, yelled at you to get off stage, and went the hell home.

Nowadays, thanks mostly to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, if you see a film in the theater you’ll notice that just about half the room stays as still as statues when the movie ends. For any comic-book or action-type film, and even some comedies, you want to stay put because surely there’s a post-credit bit of awesome, or some sweet bloopers running through the credits. The movie isn’t over when it’s over, it’s just dribbling away like those last vexing droplets of whiz after a night enjoying gimlets at the bar.

The future is going to be rife with movies that make you five minutes later for everything you do thanks to this phenomenon. Kids are going to be expecting it all the time and they will wait, reading the names of each and every gaffer, best boy, and second-unit caterer from Quebec where they filmed all those Bigfoot-takes-a-forest-bride sequences. I showed my niece The Goonies and she asked me to turn it back on after I stopped the Blu-ray so she could see the final scene. It’s in their heads and there’s no getting it out. But also, don’t you wish there was a post-credit scene in The Goonies and it was just Corey Feldman singing “Ascension Millennium” with Chunk and Sloth? Because I wish that.

3

Phone Anxiety

There are two kinds of teenagers in the world. There’s the kind who are self-assured, know everything, and are featured in PSAs on how to be awesome — drag-racing and smoking that reefer. And then there’s the kind I was. I can’t speak to that other kid in his varsity jacket and five-o’clock shadow, which, in retrospect, might be just the memory of a few high-school sex comedies I saw in the 80s and not a real thing, but never mind that. I can speak to the gut-butt-fucking fear I felt as a 14-year-old calling the girl I liked from French class and having her mom answer the phone.

I can’t even think of the last time I called any individual and got anyone else answering the phone. If you called someone now and someone else answered, your first instinct is either their phone was stolen or they’re dead. The days of having a house phone are drawing to a close and even if you have a landline, you probably have a cell phone anyway and that’s how people call you. No high-school kid is calling their friend’s house and getting stuck chatting to Mrs. Friend’s Mom.

In a reasonable world it wouldn’t matter if you had to talk on the phone to a person’s mom for 30 seconds, but that’s not the world a teenager lives in. Getting mom or dad on the phone is psychologically on par with being caught masturbating. It’s harrowing and earth shattering in ways that are hard to account for and the children of tomorrow have no idea how lucky they are that human interaction is so limited now. You don’t have to talk to the pizza place if you don’t want to, you don’t have to go to the bank to pay your bills, and you never have to talk to that hot girl’s mom knowing full well that she knows you’ve been staring at her daughter’s exposed bra strap in the back of second period every goddamn day.

The kids of tomorrow are losing a healthy sense of fear and self-loathing that previous generations were saddled with. That illogical and fear-born sense of inadequacy that plagued you at every turn because you were sure someone was judging you, even if you didn’t know why. Now everyone’s that varsity jock just high on their own sense of unfettered phone confidence, calling people left and right and only talking to them like some kind of majestic phone barons of a future telecoms utopia.

2

Late Fees

In the realm of gaming, look at what the Go-Gurt gobblers of tomorrow are missing out on. When I was a kid, I had to go to Blockbuster to rent a new Playstation game and so help me God if I was late bringing that thing back, lest the dreaded late fee be put on my bill. Try to explain that to a kid in ten years, that there was once a time when you not only needed to go to a business to rent a piece of physical media which is probably going to not exist in a decade’s time thanks to streaming and online gaming, but my playing the game meant someone else couldn’t play it. Some poor schlub had to wait for me to bring it back and if I was late, Blockbuster charged me again because Jimmy Guntstubb was desperate to play Battletoads and I fucked up.

Basically, gaming in any practical form, for any kid whose parents weren’t rich enough to buy every new game on a whim, was a community endeavor. Everyone had a tacit agreement to work together for the joy of the game, or the whole system was fucked harder than a Fleshlight thrown into a prison yard.

There was literally no way to see gameplay outside of a commercial unless you caught an episode of Video Power with Johnny Arcade, so renting was the best way to test the waters and see if you were up to the challenge of Contra. You and every other kid had to be orderly and patient. You rented that game, you put in your time, and you took it back. Every late asshole threw the whole system into chaos.

The very idea that you couldn’t play a game or watch a movie today because the kid down the street’s parents refused to vaccinate him and now he has polio is damn near absurd. Why should someone else’s shitty punctuality affect your gaming? It shouldn’t. But dammit, it did. The struggle was real and the only defense that existed against it was Blockbsuter’s unshakable adherence to the rule of late fees, the most strict punishment and deterrent they could muster.

1

If A Game Failed, It Was Likely Your Fault For Being A Filthy Slob

Obviously technology today is a hell of a lot different than tech from the 80s, or 90s, or from about 5.27 seconds ago. Rest assured technology in 2027 is going to be full of brain-wave-activated toasters that can give you a hummer while making Pop-Tarts for you, the way Edison intended. But that doesn’t mean toasters won’t exist in the future. There is, however, a good deal of stuff kids are never going to get to see or experience. It’s not evolving or getting updated, it’s simply been rendered obsolete.

The big issue with physical media is the general maintenance and upkeep. If you had a VCR you probably remember the thrill of adjusting the tracking when your video inexplicably just started oozing down the screen and tweaking like it hadn’t had a drink since this morning. Or how about that VHS copy of Splash you watched too many times that eventually became so worn out and static-riddled it was like watching garbled porn on a cable station you didn’t get (which is another thing your kids will never know about).

Gamers went through this, too. When I bought vanilla World Of Warcraft back in the day, I think it came on five or six CDs because the idea of actually downloading the game was as silly as the idea of eating a ham sandwich with no bacon on it. If even one of those fuckers got scratched, you were screwed. Or let’s say you installed it just fine, but in the middle of a big boss fight, your mouse suddenly spazzed out, and the cursor shot up to the corner of the screen. That old style mouse had a ball and rollers in it. A little, grey ball that sucked up desk-based schmutz like a magnet. You’d have to pop the bottom of your mouse, pull the ball out, swab off the layer of dog hair, dust, and dried tears on it, then do the same for the tiny little wheels inside. That’s a lost art now, like polishing your monocle (the real way, not the euphemism for sticking Pop Rocks in your pee hole).

The point is that the game failed because you failed. You took such poor care of the components, it crapped out. Already today that can be circumvented thanks to a having a hard drive to store games, and in the near future, companies like Sony and Microsoft will just drop the idea of physical media altogether so you have one less thing to get sticky with your Mountain Dew. Because, as we all know, true gamers Do the Dew. Everything will exist in the cloud, and if a game failed, it’s not on you — it’s all them.

No more discs means no kid in the future is ever going to have that moment when they take a scratched copy of Earthworm Jim and try to rub peanut butter across the bottom of it because someone somewhere once said that will repair surface scratches … even though I’ve never actually met anyone who got that to work and it mostly left my Final Fantasy VIII smelling like a middle-schooler’s sandwich from back when middle-schoolers were allowed to have Final Fantasy VIII sandwiches.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/5-things-you-grew-up-with-your-kids-will-think-are-insane/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/05/09/5-things-you-grew-up-with-your-kids-will-think-are-insane/

[adambstingus]

5 Things You Grew Up With (Your Kids Will Think Are Insane)

At this very moment you are living in the future that your ten-year-old self was pretty sure was going to be up to its nuts in robot butlers and cyber ham. Unless you’re ten right now in which case what the fuck? Your parents let you read this? I could literally start talking about dildos at any moment. I hope you go to them with any confusing questions you may have so they can assure you I’m not real and there’s no reason to take anything I say seriously. That aside, you’re also living in a time when today’s ten-year-old will have no idea what you went through to get to this point. Just look at all this non-dildo stuff that has been lost to history.

5

Phones Used To Buzz Into Your Earhole When Nobody Was On The Line

You have a phone, right? There’s a good chance you’re reading this on your phone. There’s a better chance you use your phone as a phone far less than you use it as a device to type and read making it kind of bizarre they bother to call it a phone when that’s probably third down the list of things it does. No one calls a cat a “sand shitter,” even though that happens more than you use your phone as a phone. But pooping in sandboxes aside, remember dial tones?

You probably haven’t considered this in a while, and if you still have a landline phone, maybe you still have a dial tone? I wouldn’t know, I don’t have a landline phone. But I know I don’t have a dial tone and legit haven’t heard one in years. Now imagine the kid born after 2010 who while vaguely aware of the concept of phones that have squiggly, pig-tail wires attached to them would have no idea why the damn thing drills a ceaseless robo-fart into your ear every time you pick it up. If a kid picks up a phone today and hears a dial tone, they’re going to assume it’s busted. Like bad busted, too, because it’s never made that sound before.

In days of yore when everything had to be plugged into something, the dial tone was a friendly reminder that your phone worked, because there was literally no other way to know your phone was working. It didn’t do anything. There wasn’t anything to look at or charges to adjust or battery life to keep an eye on. It was an ugly-ass lunch box with a plastic half brick you pressed to your flesh. The dial tone was the phone saying “Hey friend, why don’t you give grandma a call? Also waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!”

Those days are gone now and they never need to come back. The next generation is not just going to be unaware of a dial tone, they’re going to have to Google the term because it means nothing.

4

Credits Meant The Movie Was Over

When I was a kid, nothing sucked more than watching a movie on TV and waiting for the next show to start as the damn credits rolled. Nothing. Not war or famine or Full House. You watched the credits only because you wanted to see what was on that channel next and were too lazy to leave the room or, you know, live a life. If you’d rented a video, you pressed stop as soon as that first name started to scroll up because credits were how you knew the movie was over. Did all those people work hard to make this film? Sure, but I don’t know them or anything, they don’t need me to read their names. Your parents didn’t stick around to watch the school play after your part was over, they threw their beer cans on the floor, yelled at you to get off stage, and went the hell home.

Nowadays, thanks mostly to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, if you see a film in the theater you’ll notice that just about half the room stays as still as statues when the movie ends. For any comic-book or action-type film, and even some comedies, you want to stay put because surely there’s a post-credit bit of awesome, or some sweet bloopers running through the credits. The movie isn’t over when it’s over, it’s just dribbling away like those last vexing droplets of whiz after a night enjoying gimlets at the bar.

The future is going to be rife with movies that make you five minutes later for everything you do thanks to this phenomenon. Kids are going to be expecting it all the time and they will wait, reading the names of each and every gaffer, best boy, and second-unit caterer from Quebec where they filmed all those Bigfoot-takes-a-forest-bride sequences. I showed my niece The Goonies and she asked me to turn it back on after I stopped the Blu-ray so she could see the final scene. It’s in their heads and there’s no getting it out. But also, don’t you wish there was a post-credit scene in The Goonies and it was just Corey Feldman singing “Ascension Millennium” with Chunk and Sloth? Because I wish that.

3

Phone Anxiety

There are two kinds of teenagers in the world. There’s the kind who are self-assured, know everything, and are featured in PSAs on how to be awesome — drag-racing and smoking that reefer. And then there’s the kind I was. I can’t speak to that other kid in his varsity jacket and five-o’clock shadow, which, in retrospect, might be just the memory of a few high-school sex comedies I saw in the 80s and not a real thing, but never mind that. I can speak to the gut-butt-fucking fear I felt as a 14-year-old calling the girl I liked from French class and having her mom answer the phone.

I can’t even think of the last time I called any individual and got anyone else answering the phone. If you called someone now and someone else answered, your first instinct is either their phone was stolen or they’re dead. The days of having a house phone are drawing to a close and even if you have a landline, you probably have a cell phone anyway and that’s how people call you. No high-school kid is calling their friend’s house and getting stuck chatting to Mrs. Friend’s Mom.

In a reasonable world it wouldn’t matter if you had to talk on the phone to a person’s mom for 30 seconds, but that’s not the world a teenager lives in. Getting mom or dad on the phone is psychologically on par with being caught masturbating. It’s harrowing and earth shattering in ways that are hard to account for and the children of tomorrow have no idea how lucky they are that human interaction is so limited now. You don’t have to talk to the pizza place if you don’t want to, you don’t have to go to the bank to pay your bills, and you never have to talk to that hot girl’s mom knowing full well that she knows you’ve been staring at her daughter’s exposed bra strap in the back of second period every goddamn day.

The kids of tomorrow are losing a healthy sense of fear and self-loathing that previous generations were saddled with. That illogical and fear-born sense of inadequacy that plagued you at every turn because you were sure someone was judging you, even if you didn’t know why. Now everyone’s that varsity jock just high on their own sense of unfettered phone confidence, calling people left and right and only talking to them like some kind of majestic phone barons of a future telecoms utopia.

2

Late Fees

In the realm of gaming, look at what the Go-Gurt gobblers of tomorrow are missing out on. When I was a kid, I had to go to Blockbuster to rent a new Playstation game and so help me God if I was late bringing that thing back, lest the dreaded late fee be put on my bill. Try to explain that to a kid in ten years, that there was once a time when you not only needed to go to a business to rent a piece of physical media which is probably going to not exist in a decade’s time thanks to streaming and online gaming, but my playing the game meant someone else couldn’t play it. Some poor schlub had to wait for me to bring it back and if I was late, Blockbuster charged me again because Jimmy Guntstubb was desperate to play Battletoads and I fucked up.

Basically, gaming in any practical form, for any kid whose parents weren’t rich enough to buy every new game on a whim, was a community endeavor. Everyone had a tacit agreement to work together for the joy of the game, or the whole system was fucked harder than a Fleshlight thrown into a prison yard.

There was literally no way to see gameplay outside of a commercial unless you caught an episode of Video Power with Johnny Arcade, so renting was the best way to test the waters and see if you were up to the challenge of Contra. You and every other kid had to be orderly and patient. You rented that game, you put in your time, and you took it back. Every late asshole threw the whole system into chaos.

The very idea that you couldn’t play a game or watch a movie today because the kid down the street’s parents refused to vaccinate him and now he has polio is damn near absurd. Why should someone else’s shitty punctuality affect your gaming? It shouldn’t. But dammit, it did. The struggle was real and the only defense that existed against it was Blockbsuter’s unshakable adherence to the rule of late fees, the most strict punishment and deterrent they could muster.

1

If A Game Failed, It Was Likely Your Fault For Being A Filthy Slob

Obviously technology today is a hell of a lot different than tech from the 80s, or 90s, or from about 5.27 seconds ago. Rest assured technology in 2027 is going to be full of brain-wave-activated toasters that can give you a hummer while making Pop-Tarts for you, the way Edison intended. But that doesn’t mean toasters won’t exist in the future. There is, however, a good deal of stuff kids are never going to get to see or experience. It’s not evolving or getting updated, it’s simply been rendered obsolete.

The big issue with physical media is the general maintenance and upkeep. If you had a VCR you probably remember the thrill of adjusting the tracking when your video inexplicably just started oozing down the screen and tweaking like it hadn’t had a drink since this morning. Or how about that VHS copy of Splash you watched too many times that eventually became so worn out and static-riddled it was like watching garbled porn on a cable station you didn’t get (which is another thing your kids will never know about).

Gamers went through this, too. When I bought vanilla World Of Warcraft back in the day, I think it came on five or six CDs because the idea of actually downloading the game was as silly as the idea of eating a ham sandwich with no bacon on it. If even one of those fuckers got scratched, you were screwed. Or let’s say you installed it just fine, but in the middle of a big boss fight, your mouse suddenly spazzed out, and the cursor shot up to the corner of the screen. That old style mouse had a ball and rollers in it. A little, grey ball that sucked up desk-based schmutz like a magnet. You’d have to pop the bottom of your mouse, pull the ball out, swab off the layer of dog hair, dust, and dried tears on it, then do the same for the tiny little wheels inside. That’s a lost art now, like polishing your monocle (the real way, not the euphemism for sticking Pop Rocks in your pee hole).

The point is that the game failed because you failed. You took such poor care of the components, it crapped out. Already today that can be circumvented thanks to a having a hard drive to store games, and in the near future, companies like Sony and Microsoft will just drop the idea of physical media altogether so you have one less thing to get sticky with your Mountain Dew. Because, as we all know, true gamers Do the Dew. Everything will exist in the cloud, and if a game failed, it’s not on you — it’s all them.

No more discs means no kid in the future is ever going to have that moment when they take a scratched copy of Earthworm Jim and try to rub peanut butter across the bottom of it because someone somewhere once said that will repair surface scratches … even though I’ve never actually met anyone who got that to work and it mostly left my Final Fantasy VIII smelling like a middle-schooler’s sandwich from back when middle-schoolers were allowed to have Final Fantasy VIII sandwiches.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/5-things-you-grew-up-with-your-kids-will-think-are-insane/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/173719664232

[allofbeercom]

5 Things You Grew Up With (Your Kids Will Think Are Insane)

At this very moment you are living in the future that your ten-year-old self was pretty sure was going to be up to its nuts in robot butlers and cyber ham. Unless you’re ten right now in which case what the fuck? Your parents let you read this? I could literally start talking about dildos at any moment. I hope you go to them with any confusing questions you may have so they can assure you I’m not real and there’s no reason to take anything I say seriously. That aside, you’re also living in a time when today’s ten-year-old will have no idea what you went through to get to this point. Just look at all this non-dildo stuff that has been lost to history.

5

Phones Used To Buzz Into Your Earhole When Nobody Was On The Line

You have a phone, right? There’s a good chance you’re reading this on your phone. There’s a better chance you use your phone as a phone far less than you use it as a device to type and read making it kind of bizarre they bother to call it a phone when that’s probably third down the list of things it does. No one calls a cat a “sand shitter,” even though that happens more than you use your phone as a phone. But pooping in sandboxes aside, remember dial tones?

You probably haven’t considered this in a while, and if you still have a landline phone, maybe you still have a dial tone? I wouldn’t know, I don’t have a landline phone. But I know I don’t have a dial tone and legit haven’t heard one in years. Now imagine the kid born after 2010 who while vaguely aware of the concept of phones that have squiggly, pig-tail wires attached to them would have no idea why the damn thing drills a ceaseless robo-fart into your ear every time you pick it up. If a kid picks up a phone today and hears a dial tone, they’re going to assume it’s busted. Like bad busted, too, because it’s never made that sound before.

In days of yore when everything had to be plugged into something, the dial tone was a friendly reminder that your phone worked, because there was literally no other way to know your phone was working. It didn’t do anything. There wasn’t anything to look at or charges to adjust or battery life to keep an eye on. It was an ugly-ass lunch box with a plastic half brick you pressed to your flesh. The dial tone was the phone saying “Hey friend, why don’t you give grandma a call? Also waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!”

Those days are gone now and they never need to come back. The next generation is not just going to be unaware of a dial tone, they’re going to have to Google the term because it means nothing.

4

Credits Meant The Movie Was Over

When I was a kid, nothing sucked more than watching a movie on TV and waiting for the next show to start as the damn credits rolled. Nothing. Not war or famine or Full House. You watched the credits only because you wanted to see what was on that channel next and were too lazy to leave the room or, you know, live a life. If you’d rented a video, you pressed stop as soon as that first name started to scroll up because credits were how you knew the movie was over. Did all those people work hard to make this film? Sure, but I don’t know them or anything, they don’t need me to read their names. Your parents didn’t stick around to watch the school play after your part was over, they threw their beer cans on the floor, yelled at you to get off stage, and went the hell home.

Nowadays, thanks mostly to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, if you see a film in the theater you’ll notice that just about half the room stays as still as statues when the movie ends. For any comic-book or action-type film, and even some comedies, you want to stay put because surely there’s a post-credit bit of awesome, or some sweet bloopers running through the credits. The movie isn’t over when it’s over, it’s just dribbling away like those last vexing droplets of whiz after a night enjoying gimlets at the bar.

The future is going to be rife with movies that make you five minutes later for everything you do thanks to this phenomenon. Kids are going to be expecting it all the time and they will wait, reading the names of each and every gaffer, best boy, and second-unit caterer from Quebec where they filmed all those Bigfoot-takes-a-forest-bride sequences. I showed my niece The Goonies and she asked me to turn it back on after I stopped the Blu-ray so she could see the final scene. It’s in their heads and there’s no getting it out. But also, don’t you wish there was a post-credit scene in The Goonies and it was just Corey Feldman singing “Ascension Millennium” with Chunk and Sloth? Because I wish that.

3

Phone Anxiety

There are two kinds of teenagers in the world. There’s the kind who are self-assured, know everything, and are featured in PSAs on how to be awesome — drag-racing and smoking that reefer. And then there’s the kind I was. I can’t speak to that other kid in his varsity jacket and five-o’clock shadow, which, in retrospect, might be just the memory of a few high-school sex comedies I saw in the 80s and not a real thing, but never mind that. I can speak to the gut-butt-fucking fear I felt as a 14-year-old calling the girl I liked from French class and having her mom answer the phone.

I can’t even think of the last time I called any individual and got anyone else answering the phone. If you called someone now and someone else answered, your first instinct is either their phone was stolen or they’re dead. The days of having a house phone are drawing to a close and even if you have a landline, you probably have a cell phone anyway and that’s how people call you. No high-school kid is calling their friend’s house and getting stuck chatting to Mrs. Friend’s Mom.

In a reasonable world it wouldn’t matter if you had to talk on the phone to a person’s mom for 30 seconds, but that’s not the world a teenager lives in. Getting mom or dad on the phone is psychologically on par with being caught masturbating. It’s harrowing and earth shattering in ways that are hard to account for and the children of tomorrow have no idea how lucky they are that human interaction is so limited now. You don’t have to talk to the pizza place if you don’t want to, you don’t have to go to the bank to pay your bills, and you never have to talk to that hot girl’s mom knowing full well that she knows you’ve been staring at her daughter’s exposed bra strap in the back of second period every goddamn day.

The kids of tomorrow are losing a healthy sense of fear and self-loathing that previous generations were saddled with. That illogical and fear-born sense of inadequacy that plagued you at every turn because you were sure someone was judging you, even if you didn’t know why. Now everyone’s that varsity jock just high on their own sense of unfettered phone confidence, calling people left and right and only talking to them like some kind of majestic phone barons of a future telecoms utopia.

2

Late Fees

In the realm of gaming, look at what the Go-Gurt gobblers of tomorrow are missing out on. When I was a kid, I had to go to Blockbuster to rent a new Playstation game and so help me God if I was late bringing that thing back, lest the dreaded late fee be put on my bill. Try to explain that to a kid in ten years, that there was once a time when you not only needed to go to a business to rent a piece of physical media which is probably going to not exist in a decade’s time thanks to streaming and online gaming, but my playing the game meant someone else couldn’t play it. Some poor schlub had to wait for me to bring it back and if I was late, Blockbuster charged me again because Jimmy Guntstubb was desperate to play Battletoads and I fucked up.

Basically, gaming in any practical form, for any kid whose parents weren’t rich enough to buy every new game on a whim, was a community endeavor. Everyone had a tacit agreement to work together for the joy of the game, or the whole system was fucked harder than a Fleshlight thrown into a prison yard.

There was literally no way to see gameplay outside of a commercial unless you caught an episode of Video Power with Johnny Arcade, so renting was the best way to test the waters and see if you were up to the challenge of Contra. You and every other kid had to be orderly and patient. You rented that game, you put in your time, and you took it back. Every late asshole threw the whole system into chaos.

The very idea that you couldn’t play a game or watch a movie today because the kid down the street’s parents refused to vaccinate him and now he has polio is damn near absurd. Why should someone else’s shitty punctuality affect your gaming? It shouldn’t. But dammit, it did. The struggle was real and the only defense that existed against it was Blockbsuter’s unshakable adherence to the rule of late fees, the most strict punishment and deterrent they could muster.

1

If A Game Failed, It Was Likely Your Fault For Being A Filthy Slob

Obviously technology today is a hell of a lot different than tech from the 80s, or 90s, or from about 5.27 seconds ago. Rest assured technology in 2027 is going to be full of brain-wave-activated toasters that can give you a hummer while making Pop-Tarts for you, the way Edison intended. But that doesn’t mean toasters won’t exist in the future. There is, however, a good deal of stuff kids are never going to get to see or experience. It’s not evolving or getting updated, it’s simply been rendered obsolete.

The big issue with physical media is the general maintenance and upkeep. If you had a VCR you probably remember the thrill of adjusting the tracking when your video inexplicably just started oozing down the screen and tweaking like it hadn’t had a drink since this morning. Or how about that VHS copy of Splash you watched too many times that eventually became so worn out and static-riddled it was like watching garbled porn on a cable station you didn’t get (which is another thing your kids will never know about).

Gamers went through this, too. When I bought vanilla World Of Warcraft back in the day, I think it came on five or six CDs because the idea of actually downloading the game was as silly as the idea of eating a ham sandwich with no bacon on it. If even one of those fuckers got scratched, you were screwed. Or let’s say you installed it just fine, but in the middle of a big boss fight, your mouse suddenly spazzed out, and the cursor shot up to the corner of the screen. That old style mouse had a ball and rollers in it. A little, grey ball that sucked up desk-based schmutz like a magnet. You’d have to pop the bottom of your mouse, pull the ball out, swab off the layer of dog hair, dust, and dried tears on it, then do the same for the tiny little wheels inside. That’s a lost art now, like polishing your monocle (the real way, not the euphemism for sticking Pop Rocks in your pee hole).

The point is that the game failed because you failed. You took such poor care of the components, it crapped out. Already today that can be circumvented thanks to a having a hard drive to store games, and in the near future, companies like Sony and Microsoft will just drop the idea of physical media altogether so you have one less thing to get sticky with your Mountain Dew. Because, as we all know, true gamers Do the Dew. Everything will exist in the cloud, and if a game failed, it’s not on you — it’s all them.

No more discs means no kid in the future is ever going to have that moment when they take a scratched copy of Earthworm Jim and try to rub peanut butter across the bottom of it because someone somewhere once said that will repair surface scratches … even though I’ve never actually met anyone who got that to work and it mostly left my Final Fantasy VIII smelling like a middle-schooler’s sandwich from back when middle-schoolers were allowed to have Final Fantasy VIII sandwiches.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/5-things-you-grew-up-with-your-kids-will-think-are-insane/

[patrononfire]

What follows is simply an account of what I found helped my state of mind while I was getting crushed by repeated 100+ hour weeks one after another. I am writing this in the spirit of trying to help another guy trying to get through a tough and miserable time - if it comes across as preaching or condescending then that is unintentional. If it comes across as braggadocios alpha-male bullshit then that is not intended either. I was a soldier for nearly a decade and I guess that colors how I look at a lot of situations. Here goes:

1. Adopt A Survivor Mentality.

There are some extraordinary stories of people that have survived in the face of incredible odds against them. I am talking about being stranded in the wilderness or adrift at sea - that kind of a thing. There has been a certain amount of academic research and a number of books filled with awe-inspiring stories. Movies too; "127 Hours" is a recent example that comes to mind. Those that survive exhibit a number of common personality traits. Fortitude and an absence of self-pity are among them, but the one that really resonated with me is: Acceptance. Those that got their heads down and prevailed against an awful situation accepted the hand that they had been dealt. That was just how it happened to be for them. They accepted that this was the situation that they'd got themselves into, they accepted what resources (or more importantly what constraints) they had, and they made the best of what they had to work with. Getting frustrated or angry about things that you simply cannot change is an enormous waste of energy. Save that energy for something that will actually help you.

2. Put It In Perspective.

I am wary of becoming preachy here so I will keep it short: there are many, many people whose lives are a fuck's-sight worse than yours. Nothing highly original here, but what put it in perspective for me was reading a well-written book about somebody roughly the same age as me who is having an altogether different, and worse, experience. Apart from the fact that reading is an enjoyable and enriching escape - even for 20 minutes before bed, it can also give you tremendous perspective. [I had the Kindle app downloaded onto my work computer, and sometimes inconspicuously read between 9am and 3pm while I was waiting for a turn of edits]. "Unbroken" and "Matterhorn" are two books that I recently read. I also taped a small picture of Nelson Mandella to my monitor. When I was really hating life I thought about what he described in "The Long Walk to Freedom" and it put things in perspective for me. Once one of the Directors asked me who the picture was of - I told him it was my uncle and he seemed to believe me, the ignorant fuck.

3. Rationalize 2 Years.

I know its hard when you are there, and at the time of being an Analyst its not much less than a tenth of your life, but two years really is not a long time. If you get caught with a small amount of weed and are unlucky you can get sent to prison for more than two years, soldiers go to Afghanistan for nearly 18 months. I know that these are downbeat examples but you can get through two years if you can keep the end in sight and break it down into chunks. I created a fancy spreadsheet with loads of date functions that broke down how far through my stint I was and how much money I had made so far. This can sap your morale as well as boost it so decide for yourself and obviously never let anyone see it! Two years all at once can seem overwhelming so break it down into milestones that work for you: Thanksgiving, when bonuses get paid, your one-year point - whatever. Focus on getting to the next milestone and then pick another one. Somehow it makes things seem a tiny bit less shit.

4. Be Strong.

carry yourself with purpose and aplomb - do not look like a victim and never complain. It is a shitty life right now - everyone knows that it is. The Analysts that tearfully drag themselves about the floor like zombies mark themselves down as bitches and it becomes a downward spiral of disrespect from there. It is an ugly, "Lord of the Flies", side of human nature and I am not endorsing it but if you mope around and visibly hate every moment then it gets noticed and it becomes the legacy that you do not want.

5. Create Options.

If your current job genuinely is the only current opportunity that you have for gainful employment, then yes that sucks and you feel trapped. Forgive me for the blunt analogy, but being a junior investment banker is in some ways akin to being in an abusive relationship. You can be the victim that's trapped in the trailer park and regularly beaten by your drunken spouse and for as long as you let it be so that will be your life until such a time as you chose to make it otherwise. Nobody will help you get out, nobody cares and the cycle of victimhood will be perpetuated for as long as you let it. I'm not saying its easy to switch jobs, and as we all know, it takes time, persistence and good fortune to make a smart career move. But every outreach, every networking email, every informal coffee meeting creates optionality for you and makes you feel a little bit less trapped each time you make some headway. There are alternatives and if you proactively go out there after them, each small success even if it doesn't directly result in a job opportunity will take you down the road and make you feel a bit less trapped by where you are now.

6. Think Creatively About Your Career.

I accept that this might not the same for everyone, but I found that the abject crapness of being an M&A Associate actually made me really think a lot more than I ever had before about what I valued in life and what I wanted from it. Despite working 100-hour weeks, in what little downtime I had, I actually was able to think incredibly sharply about the career that I wanted and what interested and motivated me. No longer having the luxury of idle time for thought made me use what scarce time I had very carefully. I tagged ideas, whims and fantasies in Evernote (both on my browser and on my iPhone) and this led me to my current career (soft commodities) and pursuits (for example Krav Maga and cookery) that would probably never have occurred to me beforehand. I also went through my alumni network, a handful of headhunters and LinkedIn to build a CRM database in Zoho of people that I wanted to make contact with. It was surprising how much progress I could make even just putting in an hour or two a week - people were also very understanding about my current situation.

7. Exotic Jobs.

If you are pre-MBA and really need to re-set after a couple of years as an Analyst, I would encourage you to think about parlaying your skills into a business-related function but for an altogether different organization. I'm thinking places like Peace Corps, MSF, Red Cross, War Child, LeapFrog Investments etc. People with business, finance and consulting experience are in demand in such places - friends of mine have worked at all of the above. Pros: its only a year or two commitment, it gives you a chance to live healthily and get tan, if you're in any way bullish on emerging markets its great exposure, you get irreplaceable experience in a foreign country, your MBA application essays are going to write themselves. Unless you are smitten to taking your chances with a mega LBO-fund (which with all due respect I don't sense that you are) I really don't think that it is going to hurt your career in the long run, and on the contrary could open a lot of doors in interesting parts of the world where there are some fantastic opportunities to participate in their economic growth.

8. Heroes And Mentors.

When I was on my second tour in Iraq, a 36-year old Major that I knew was killed by a roadside bomb. He was ten years older than I was at the time, and left behind a wife and a couple of infant children. It was around this time that I decided a long-term career in the military was not what I wanted. It's a bit of a stark example, but my point is to look at guys who are a bit further ahead in the same career as you are now in. Ask yourself whether you would want their life, and whether you would want to go through what they did to get there. Perhaps you do, in which case it is fairly clear-cut what needs to be done next. If you balk at it then that's a message to you - it's a message to start redirecting your career to somewhere that you do want to take it. Additionally, I cannot be too encouraging of seeking a professional mentor.

You'll get differing opinions from everyone, but what has worked well for me is NOT reaching out to some crusty septuagenarian who plays golf with your Dad - this rarely works unless he is exorbitantly well-connected and happens to love you like a son. Find someone with whom you have some commonality who is 4 to 6 years further in his or her career than you are. Use your alumni network, LinkedIn, WSO whatever. Pick someone that you are able to meet in person in NYC or whichever city you live in. Buy them a beer and make it clear that you are not looking for them to find you a job - you are just grateful for their advice and suggestions. They will drop their guard when they realize that you are not trying to pump them to find your next job for you (as just about everyone else is) and if they are a half-way pleasant kind of a person they will take some satisfaction from giving you a leg-up and helping you get ahead in your career.

Other guys have commented on alcohol and office politics so I will only briefly add my 2c. I would advise against hitting the bottle too hard. Like you, I found it quite a good way to depressurize although it is obviously injurious to your health and can all too easily get out of control. Understand what a "high functioning alcoholic" is, and if you identify with any of the symptoms I'd recommend giving it a break for a bit. It won't do you any favors in the long run. The best move I made was not keeping any alcohol whatsoever in my apartment; when you get home at 5:30am you simply don't have the option of having a quick and easy nightcap before bed. I would also recommend, if you possibly can, talking to your Associate and appealing to them to manage you in as humane a way as they can.

Unless a direct promote, they have learnt all that leadership, man-management BS at business school and a sincere appeal for empathy ought not to fall on deaf ears if they are a half-way decent human being. I would try to send Analysts home early when I could, and I know that other Associates tried to as well. Ultimately it's a give-and-take relationship between Analysts and Associates - a bit of goodwill is always repaid before very long so you shouldn't be too hesitant about being asked for a small break now and then.