#It is so very easy to stop showing up online and much harder to vanish from like a shared apartment

[mintaka-iii]

man I have Got to go back to living with friends. or even friendly strangers. this living alone shit is *bad for me*

[cursedwriter]

You’re Everything and More - One Shot

Request: Anon: Hey, I saw that you’re looking for insp sooo I have the idea that the reader wakes up from a nightmare and Rob comforts her and there’s a lot of fluff thank you! 

Author’s note: Requests are open! Send anything you want! For the moment I’ll stick to one shots, otherwise I’ll lose control and I’m still in the middle of the Semester sooo that wouldn’t be great. Also I haven’t written in a while so this might suck alsooo can we please appreciate the gif like hot damn what I wouldn’t give

Word Count: 1.3k

“Shh, everything’s alright,” someone murmured next to you. “I’m here. It was just a dream.”

You sat up straight, momentarily confused about your surroundings, but the confusion vanished as soon as you felt his warm hand rub soothingly up and down your back. The room was dark, so you couldn’t see him, but you felt him shift behind you and suddenly his soft lips pressed feathery kisses along your shoulder. Gently his other hand searched for your face, cupping it and wiping his thumb across your cheek. Until this point you hadn’t even noticed that you were crying.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked out, voice sounding off to your own ears. “I’m sorry I woke you.” 

His hand fell from your face and you instantly missed his warm touch. “Don’t be silly,” he reassured you. You felt him laying down again, his hand reaching out to you once more, but this time to pull you down gently. You nestled yourself against his side, inhaling his scent and letting his comforting backrubs soothe you further. Soon your whimpers stopped and so did the tears. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked after a short moment of silence.

You didn’t answer at first, not really sure what to say. It wasn’t because you were ashamed, you knew that you could tell him anything … but saying it aloud would bring the memories back and it hurt you just to think about it. He didn’t press, though, maybe thinking that you had fallen asleep again. “I don’t remember all of it,” you broke the silence. The dream was already hazy in your mind, seeping through your hands like sand. You could barely hold on to the exact images, but that wasn’t necessary anyway. The feeling of it lingered, burned inside your bones, your heart, leaving a scorching sensation behind, a bitter aftertaste. “You … You left me,” you were barely able to choke the words out, the hollow feeling still very much prominent in the pit of your stomach.

In response to your words, his grip around you tightened and he brought you closer to his body. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his even breathing and the steady beating of his heart. “You know I’d never do that,” he whispered against your hair, pressing a light kiss on it after he was done.

“Please, don’t make promises that you can’t keep.” Your voice was also barely above a whisper and after he didn’t answer, you were almost certain that he hadn’t heard you.

“I’m not,” he said eventually. “I mean … how could I ever leave you when you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me? When you’re literally everything I always hoped for and so much more? How could I?”

It was quiet again while you processed his words. You knew that he loved you, he told you that over and over again every day, but somehow you still couldn’t believe it sometimes. It wasn’t easy navigating your normal life through the craziness that was his life. In the beginning you found it kind of amusing that people were trying to get pictures of you, like … why would anyone want that? It was so absurd to you that you took it as a joke at first. Now, though, everything looked a lot different. Just because you were dating someone in the spotlight made everyone believe it was okay to spread false rumors about you, have an opinion on you as a person without having ever spoken to you personally and of course everyone knew what was best for Rob but Rob himself apparently… and the best thing almost always didn’t include you. You were bashed online for not ‘being good enough’ for ‘just wanting his money and fame’ and whatnot. Rob was better at ignoring snide comments. He was used to people having their opinions on him and he didn’t care much for it. You, on the other hand, had never had to deal with anything remotely close to this before. This stood in no correlation to your middle school self being bullied by some popular girl that liked to pick on you because you had had a weird obsession with Star Wars at the time and that was only ‘for boys’. And though, obviously that had hurt you at the time - because how could somebody hate you for something that you loved? – this now was a million times worse. You never really considered yourself to be super insecure – the normal amount of insecure, sure, nobody’s perfect and whatnot – but after that one afternoon where you went down an online spiral and sifted your way through every comment that was directed either directly at you or at your relationship with Rob, things had taken a considerable turn. You had cried for hours, thanking god that Rob wasn’t home to see you like this. He felt bad enough already that he had made your life a lot harder – which was ridiculous because it wasn’t his fault, but he liked to burden himself whenever he found an excuse to do so. It drove you nuts sometimes. However, all those comments had you questioning if someone like him could really ever love someone like you. And most of the time you came to the conclusion that you must be dreaming whenever he reassured you that he did love you.

“I just feel like that one of those days you’ll realize what a mess I am…,” quiet sobs escaped your lips, but you tried your hardest to force the tears back that were already welling up behind your eyes. “One day you might hate everything about me that you find endearing now and then you’ll leave me … and I can’t even be mad, because deep down I knew it all along … You’re too good for me.”

You could feel him tense under your touch, a long sigh left his lungs and the hand that was rubbing you back slowly came up to play with your hair. Something he liked to do when he was anxious.

“I hate that you think so little of yourself… I wish you could see yourself through my eyes just once.” While his right hand played with your hair, his other found your hand that rested on his chest and he intertwined your fingers. He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed every one of your fingers with brief feathery kisses that sent butterflies through your stomach. “Because if you did, you’d see that there is no way in hell that I could ever hate you! Ever!” He laid your hand down again, playing with your fingers now. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone as much as I love you. Sometimes the feeling’s so intense I’m worried my heart will suddenly explode because it can’t contain the amount of love I have for you! Being apart hurts me physically and whenever I’m away for work I count down the days until I can finally hold you in my arms again! I think everyone’s already annoyed by me, because I just can’t shut up talking about you, because you’re literally the only thing that’s ever on my mind. If anything, I’m the one who’s afraid that you might leave me once you’ve had enough.” He paused his monologue, deep in thought and then he added, “I don’t think I could survive that.”

You didn’t really know what to say after that, stunned at his declaration. The only thing you could think of was to show him how much he meant to you. You propped yourself up on his chest, laying on top of him now. There was absolutely no light in the room, so you couldn’t see his face. With your nose you slowly tested your way up, leaving kisses as you went: up his throat, on his jawline and cheeks and his nose until finally your lips found his. The kiss was slow and soft at first, but soon it turned needier, more forceful as if you were afraid that he might disappear under your touch.

Well, it’s safe to say you didn’t get much sleep that night. 

Send requests HERE

[astraeagreengrass]

The Queen’s Husband [2/?]

When her reign is threatened, the Queen of Ergona must find a husband to secure her throne.

Word Count: 1.791

Warnings: None! Just an anxious queen and a very good-looking Captain.

A/N: I had to split this chapter in two because it was getting too long (and now I feel like it’s too short 🤷🏻‍♀️), so this story will have more parts than I originally intended (maybe four or five instead of just three). And thank you so so so much to the lovely people who commented on the first chapter. It took a lot of courage for me to start writing again and post it online and I appreciate every one who took some time to let me know their thoughts! It means more to me than I can say. I hope you like part two ♡

Series Masterlit

My Masterlist

On a sunny summer morning, you asked Captain Steve Rogers to marry you.

He arrived three days after the council meeting. From a palace window you saw him dismount his black stallion, shield on his back, and make his way inside. He was still wearing his travel clothes when you met him in the courtyard.

"Your Grace" he curtsied when he spotted you.

With a nod you dismissed Wanda, your handmaid, and walked over to him.

"Please rise, Captain Rogers. Could I interest you in a walk in the gardens?" you asked. 

He quickly offered you his arm, apologizing for the lack of garb of his outfit.

"I was told you wanted to see me as soon as I arrived."

"Indeed" you answered, right hand on the crook of his left arm. The worn-out leather of his sleeve felt nice against your hand. "It is something of urgency."

He stopped, clear blue eyes suddenly attentive.

"What happened, Your Grace? How may I be of service?"

You pointed to a stone bench next to the roses - beautiful pink blossoms that were your mother's favorite. You sent a silent prayer to her spirit, wishing more than anything that she could be here to hold your hand as you defined your future. 

"My cousin Margaret has given birth to a son. The baby has a claim to the thrones of both Beathan and Ergona. As long as I am unmarried and childless my reign is threatened." 

Captain Rogers stilled. He was a very handsome man, with shaggy blonde hair curling around his ears. The full beard that adorned his face made him appear older than he actually was, but it probably worked on his advantage whilst amongst more seasoned military officers - he looked fierce and powerful, yet his gaze was kind. 

"You need a husband" he finally said. 

"Precisely” you gulped. The skin between his eyebrows was creased and, as the rest of him, the small imperfection looked like it was carved out of marble. Would it even soften if you caressed it with your thumb?

"I sent for you today because I would like you to consider becoming my husband and the King of Ergona" you said in such a rushed whisper anyone less attentive wouldn’t have heard.

But Steve did.

He rose so fast it startled you. Tall and imposing, Steve stared down at you, beautiful face twisted in shock and… Was he offended? 

"Is this some sort of joke?" he exclaimed running his hand through his face. "Did Tony put you up to this?" 

“What?” If you weren’t so confused by his reaction you’d be more insulted by the way he was scowling at you as if you were his opponent rather than his queen. “How dare you speak to me like this?” 

"Who told you of my affections?" Steve's voice was stern, clearly unfazed by your authority. You could suddenly picture him in the battlefield, strong and commanding. But that thought quickly vanished in the midst of your disorientation. 

"Your affections? To whom?" you questioned.

"To you of course!"

You gasped, lips opening in a perfectly shocked "O" shape.  

"You have… Affections… Towards me?" you stuttered, baffled.

"Of course! Of course I do, Y/N". He had lost all courtesy now, referring to you without your title. His hands gripped his hair furiously. “I honestly thought you knew!”

Oh.

"I… I had no idea" you stammered, shame flooding your veins faster than you could come up with an apology. "Captain Rogers, I'm sorry. This conversation should never have happened. Please forgive me.” 

You tried to rise from the stone bench, but Steve stood still in front of it, preventing you from escaping.

"Did you truly not know?" he asked, right eyebrow slightly raised in suspicion.  

“No!” you exclaimed. “And even if I did I would never poke fun of your feelings. What kind of person do you think I am?”

Steve sighed and dropped his head, ashamed. If you were an artist you’d paint him, shoulders slumped and hands on his narrow waist, Adonis himself personified in the soft summer light. 

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I was incredibly disrespectful.”

Something in his expression tugged at your heartstrings. 

“You don’t have to apologize” you whispered. “It must’ve been shocking for you. I just hope you believe me when I say I had no idea about your… Affections.”  

Heavens, why is it easier to to lead an army than have this conversation?

Steve looked up and you couldn’t tell if his eyes were green or blue. The air felt thick with embarrassment, even if there were no witnesses but the roses surrounding the courtyard. 

You thought he would finally make way for you to stand and leave – free to wallow in shame and self-pity – but Steve wasn’t done surprising you.

"Was I your first choice?" he asked. "To become your husband?

"Yes. The council suggested you but I wouldn't be here if I hadn't made the choice out of my own free will." 

"Considering I’ve already ignored every single courtesy and protocol, may I ask what willed you to make this choice?" 

It wasn’t an easy one, but then again, which decision from the past five years had been? You may have been desperate but you couldn’t afford to be anything less than rational. Fury was right: the news of Margaret’s son spread like wildfire, snuffing out any jubilation from the defeat of Zerbolia. You had purposefully averted any talk of marriage, hoping that the time would come when only you would be enough for Ergona, but it never did. Duty came knocking at your door sooner than you expected.

Proposing to Steve Rogers was a shot in the dark. Love wasn’t a luxury you could afford and you held no expectations this marriage would be anything other than a business transaction, but you could wish for safety. Knowing Steve’s character, it seemed unlikely he would turn out to be like your father. 

However, power changed people. 

You couldn’t say that you chose him out of hope - hope that he would be a good husband, a good king and a good father. Hope that a crown wouldn’t corrupt him as it did to so many others rulers before you, the dead kings and queens immortalized in fancy portraits and terrible deeds.

However, you should give him something. 

"You are a good man" you replied. “I’ve wondered about you and your motives constantly. You’re young yet incredibly respected and successful. Men have crowned themselves kings with less than what you have. But even so you’ve never threatened me or my reign. You’ve always been kind - the kindest, actually. Ruthless in battle but not cruel. Aware of others beneath you. Loved by all.”

“I kept waiting for the moment when you would betray me, revealing yourself to be just like every other men I’ve encountered in my life. But you never did, you were just nicer, friendlier, more trustworthy. And I don’t mean trustworthy as a Captain, but as a friend. I started seeing you as a friend and I have very few friends.” 

“And I thought: ‘If I must have a husband, then at least I hope he is a good man’. And you are the best man I know.” 

Steve took a step forward and kneeled. He was closer to you now than he ever had before - closer that anyone dared to be. His boldness was disconcerting and, in the back of your mind, you knew the right thing to do was to chastise him for being so forward. Instead, you let him take your left hand in his.

Steve kissed your ring finger, before cradling your palm to his face. His beard was surprisingly soft but his pillowy lips were softer as he lightly pressed them to your skin. Eyes closed and frown softened, he looked as if he had found peace with your touch. 

"I have loved you since you were eighteen” he said. “On your coronation day. You were so young but showed no fear as you walked by those old lords and ladies who all secretly wished you failed. Your head was held high and as you looked at nowhere but the throne sitting on the dais. I had never seen anyone more beautiful or more brave."

"I don't need to tell you that my father disapproves of my military career, this gossip has been well spread at Court. He is a proud Western man and it churns his stomach to see his son serve an Eastern queen. But if I am a good man it is because I serve a good queen and a good woman. Five years in your presence have assured me that there is no greater right in my life than the love and admiration I feel for you." 

Sometime during his speech, Steve’s voice turned husky and you blushed profusely. Not from the heat or from shame, but something different you'd never felt before. There was a fluttering in your stomach you couldn't place, but maybe, just maybe, you liked it. 

Looking up, he smiled, the stretch of his pink lips resembling a boy, not a warrior.

"I would be honored to become your husband, Your Grace. Nothing would make me happier." 

"Thank you" you whispered in relief. Anyone would tell you that it was unnecessary for a queen to thank a suitor - to thank anyone. But did this rule apply if the suitor was you?

Steve’s smile widened as his eyes sparkled with mirth. You amused him, and instead of annoying you, the realization just made the butterflies in your stomach flutter harder.

He lowered your hand on his face, but didn’t drop it, as he stood. His own palms were calloused where he gripped usually his sword but it didn’t bother you - they felt grounding, and reassuring: This is real. You’re not dreaming. 

You didn’t have to look to know you were being watched from nearly every palace window overlooking the courtyard. The queen wasn’t granted much privacy. Rising from the stone bench, hand still on Steve’s, you discreetly nodded towards the windows. He smirked and squeezed your hand.

One.

Two.

Three times. 

“I’m ready when you are” he said. 

Unsaid words left a bitter taste as they died on your tongue. You weren’t ready - would you ever be? You thought you were ready to be queen, but time showed you there was no preparing for all the frustrations you’ve encountered. On the secret corners of your mind you still felt like a child, anxiously looking at the adults surrounding you wondering what their next steps might be.

Marrying Steve was your own step. And for the first time in a long while, it felt like a hopeful one.

[soranihimawari]

swing sets and clouds

a little daichi story about him realizing he’s in like with a childhood friend who just moved back from hong kong...

tagging: @smolbludandelions​ @m0nstergeneration20xx​

rated: SDF for Sawamura Daichi Fluff.

word count: 3.7K

“oh man, i don’t know why i had let hitoka-chan convince me into writing this letter, but here goes,” my voice is quiet. i glanced out at the snowy ridden land. a soft smile danced across my face.

i sat down on my desk with the lamp lit staring at a birthday card for one of my senior classmates. i was so sure michimiya had a huge crush on  the recipient, but i think it’s honestly because they have known each other since middle school.however, since i was raised abroad in hong kong for a little while, my friends from elementary school continued forming connections during this time. my parents’ line of work for the international bank for japan had allowed such a trip to occur. i came back at the beginning of our first year of high school.my parents encouraged me to take a majority of the entrance exams for the prefecture we were going to be living when we moved back, which i was grateful for. the results came back via e-mail explaining that i was accepted into karasuno high and given my current grade average being converted, i was placed in the college prep courses. 

moving forward, i had survived my first year making friends and catching up with old ones. i had lunch on the rooftops often since i liked how the fire escape ladders were well hidden behind the main building. never really much of a socializer, i sometimes found it easy to skip a few lectures haphazardly especially when i forgot my homework. not even my seniors knew where i had ran off to. that changed during second year when one of the members of volleyball club had jogged up to the trio of boys in my year asking for an extra set of hands. we bumped shoulders briefly as you hollered over your shoulder a rapid, “sorry!” then you vanished for the rest of the day. apparently your kouhai were getting into a scuffle over who’d protect the lady manager. i continued on my day letting you know if fate brought us together by accident, then perhaps, we would become friends point. luckily we didn’t have to wait very long... 

“you moved and you came back?” you asked me blinking wide eyed at the sports festival that year. our classes were grouped together for co-ed costumed relay race. you were elected the third runner while i, for whatever reason, was the anchor. 

“i ran track then too ya’know, sawamura,” i shrugged my shoulders. “i can’t believe you don’t remember me that well, then again.” 

you passed me a bottle of an electrolyte enriched water. i open it and we said a brief, “kampai!” before we took a swig of it.

“we were seven,” you chuckled. “i can barely keep up with all the nuances go-go.”

“ah-ha! you do remember me!” i replied. “you used to call me that on the swingset by our old school.”

you blushed slightly when i poked your cheek. “c’mon, seems like our break time is almost over.”

our race was a close one while our peers began to saunter off one by one. by the time the baton came to me, you were breathing heavily. it was a solid pass; the charcoal stick with white and orange detail was pressed into my palm with a stern look in your eye. i’d never forget how intense your eyes were, sawamura. 

“go!” you yelled out to me as i turned my attention around to face the path in front of me. i took off, gaining speed and momentum with breaking from a speed walk, to a jog, to a sprint as our competitors in the next lanes gained on me. i pushed myself further and came in first. 

“i did it!” i whispered to myself. i raised the baton in the air while my breath was catching up. you nodded in my direction as our classmates passed on their congratulations, but you turned to your back on me to talk to your other friends instead. i told myself to let that action go. i didn’t belong in your world anyways, just as much as perhaps you think you didn’t belong in mine.

==third year==

“who’s that daichi-senpai?” one of the volleyball club first years had asked you.

“oh her?” sugawara’s voice took over a teasing tone. “that’s the girl daichi wants to date.”

“shut it suga,” daichi said while the rest of the team teased him for having his crush be openly outed.

i was probably practicing a few moves from my dance hobby after classes had been dismissed. i had signed up for an adult ballet dance class along with a modern international dance club; i had my music from my smartphone connected wirelessly to the mini-portable speakers i had brought with me. i was attempting a take on a dance i saw online from the renowned magda butterfly competition. my black ballet slippers were worn at the sole, but i pursued the completion of the instrumental ‘lava short’ ballad. 

the song ended as it skipped to the next song a stark contrast while the violins’ solo melody picked up it’s tempo, i leapt into completing a grand jete diagonally across the gym’s faded boundary paints. my hair hung around my shoulders as it flew in the wind behind me. my hair tie was holding less and less of my hair, but i didn’t mind one bit as i took my place spinning around with my eyes closed. i raised my hands above my head and moved my wrists down both sides of my face because both sides of my face, then the song fades. i glanced up at the clock, inspecting the time. i wrapped my chords and placed them in my bag on the stage from the entrance ceremony. i zipped up my bag, not really caring whether i had an audience observing me or not. i stretched my arms above my head once more stifling a yawn. i shook my head side to side as i re-tied my hair in a ponytail.

“mmhm.” i hummed. “perhaps i should call it a day. seems like the volleyball club’s practice begins soon.”

i spun around on my heel to leave the gym via the side door on the eastern side, easily slipping out of sight.

that evening, i received a text from sugawara. we were in the same science class this year, but that’s besides the point.

--[17:10]--

suga-k.: hey hey! i had a question for you... 

suga-k: [mysterydance.vid] is this you? 

go-go: how do you? why do you? ... 

suga-k: ?

go go: yeah. that’s me.

on the other side of the line, sugawara was walking home from practice with his two best friends next to him. he had thanked one of their underclassmen who shot a snapchat video on their phones for him. it was the first app hitoka tapped on and although she deleted the snap, she saved the file first thus sending it to her senpais who had asked her for it (it was just suga who shared it with daichi who was blushing harder in the changing room after practice had ended).

“you should ask go-chan out on a date,” sugawara suggests. 

“eh?” asahi questioned his silver haired friend. sugawara shows him the video clip of the girl who danced so effortlessly before they had practice. “daichi, you should. she’s--”

“i know guys. trust me i’d love to, but honestly, what am i supposed to say suga? hi go-go. i’ve been in love with you since we were seven and when your family moved to hong kong i believed we weren’t meant to be together?”

his two friends stopped walking for a moment as their friend was finally admitting some truths aloud to himself to hear.

“you DO like her,” sugawara clasped his friend’s shoulder. “asahi! you pay for my share of the pork buns mr. double or nothing ace.”

“oh, ok,” the gentlest ace had acknowledged the bed handing his co-captain five hundred yen.

“you guys made a gamble?! on my love life? damn it!” daichi exclaimed kicking the dirt pile closest to his feel while begrudgingly placing his hands in his club tracksuit pockets.

--the next day--

i was roaming the halls during the-mid morning break heading back to my classroom when i saw you out of the corner of my eye asking michimiya-san to borrow the girl’s vbc gym for practice that afternoon. she likes you too, i mused. i suppose if i stayed here in miyagi, you and i would have a very similar friendship. she’s a sweet girl but before you could say your goodbyes, she called out my name.

“h-hey michimiya, sawamura.” 

the lilt in my voice was hiding the sinking feeling i felt my heart do when i approached you two.

“go-go, are you going to watch the game against shiratorizawa?” michimiya asked. she looked so hopeful and i recalled hearing she pulled a victory charm at the shrine the other day. 

“if someone on the team asks me, sure,” i answered. “maybe i’ll ask suga-san.”

michimiya nods in earnest, but when she saw her fellow capitan’s face slightly frown, i had cleared my throat.

“i meant to say as a friend. after all, sugawara and i are in the same science class this year,” i said. i bowed toward them before i left them to converse in private again. 

--classes dismiss at karasuno--

“daichi-senpai’s skipping practice?” hinata asked. sugawara, with the thanks of tanaka and noya, covered for their captain explaining he had a slight-non medical emergency to take care of.

“it’s about go-senpai, isn’t it?” hitoka whispered to her head manager, who nodded. 

--elsewhere off campus--

“oi! go-go!”

twice in one day, someone on the volleyball team called out to me. twice in one day the person who i had developed a crush on, who had gifted me friendship chocolates last year for the first time, called out to me.

“yeah? what’s the matter sawa-kun?” i asked. i had my hershel brand backpack slung over my shoulder. i gave him a few moments to catch his breath. “woah, did you run over here?”

“not really,” he chuckled. “i run with the guys before practice all the time.”

“i see.”

“listen, can we talk somewhere? it’s nothing serious.”

i nodded. “lead the way.”

we walked silently side by side enjoying the ambiance of the early afternoon. we stopped when we reached our destination. it took me a moment to realize where we were. i turned my head to the left and saw the boarded up school with the notice saying it was currently closed for remodelling for the remainder of the school year. from where we were standing, we were inside the parameters of the park in front of our old primary school. 

“you remember this place,” i said softly. i turn to look at him with an warm smile. 

“so do you,” his voice is firm, but there were hints of mischief. “it’s been a long time since we played here.”

“haha, you’re telling me. honestly, i’m touched, truly by this, but why exactly did you bring me here. it can’t possibl--”

“i like you,” his confession interjects my statement.

“i like you too,” i say. the way my head turned around real quick in the autumn air had my brain process what he had said. “it can’t possibly be the...wait.”

his shadow eclipses my face for a moment as his brown eyes studied my features while i took a half step back to brace myself for whatever he did next.

“i know i’m late in telling you this,” his voice faltered for a moment, he gave me a small smile.

“you’re not late, daichi. you’re right on time,” i said running up to hug him. he took a step back when i laughed.

“oof!” he exclaims from the impact, falling into a laughter almost immediately after he embraces me.

“you jerk!” i said burrowing by my face into his chest.

“can’t be, not around you,” he whispers into the my hair. one of his hands combs my hair behind my ears gently; using the same hand i feel him tilting my chin up. i close my eyes as i closed the gap between our lips. if you could taste insurances of timed magic, that is what this kiss felt like. there is a calm stillness between he and I; when the kiss breaks, i giggle at how the boy blushes.

“y’know, you’re not half bad daichi,” i tease. i press my lips to the side of his face. “wanna walk me home?”

==[winter break]==

“write to daichi?” i asked balancing my phone on one ear. i called hitoka & shizumi asking them their opinions on what to get someone you like for the holidays; hitoka suggested i wrote a letter.

“yeah! one for good luck or his birthday,” her voice said.

“ok. thanks,” i said. “oh by the way, are we still up for that trip to the gardens tomorrow? the winter festival i heard was going on...”

“mmhm. meet at campus. night!”

we three hung up, i searched for a card.

==[31/12, 19:04]==

daichi and i since that day at the park had unofficially officially been ‘together.’ everyone on the team knew about our relationship, but to the outside, we were just really close childhood friends who reconnected in high school.

i don’t know why i was so nervous when i stood outside his door. i was dressed in a fancy pants suit my parents wanted me to wear to the party they were invited to, but i asked if i could skip it. when asked why, i told them i had a date to keep. daichi had invited me over for dinner and desserts at his place, so naturally, i accepted the offer.

earlier that day, i stepped out to the bakery & bought a small lemon chiffon cake. i also went to the florist shop and asked for a birthday balloon while picking up a fresh bud for my hair that evening.

sighing, i raised my hand to the door and gave it a steady rapt. i heard his siblings through the door asking if their brother’s ‘pretty date’ was coming over. those siblings of his were a mischievous pair, but alas even they saw how much their elder brother liked me.

“happy birthday dai,” i greeted with a balloon and small cake in my hand.

“thank you,” he says, kissing my cheek taking the cake away. “come in. i’ll make hot chocolate for you.”

“thanks.”

i unbuttoned my jacket while i heard his siblings run around to spot me in the entrance way. shrugged it off and hung it in the coat closet. i also removed my snow lidden boots and had them resting by the door along with the others.

the footsteps grew louder as all three of them approached me at almost full speed. daichi was chasing them yelling something about not getting extra marshmallows in their hot cocoa...

“go-one!” the little one said as they jumped into my arms to give me a hug. “hi hi!”

“hi!” i stifled a giggle. “happy almost new year!”

“happy a’most new year!”

“oi! leave go-one alone, she’s here to see dai-niichan!”

i have daichi a look who let out an exasperated sigh. his sibling in my arms saw how flustered he had become when i placed them back down on the floor.

“we’ll play a bit later, ok? for now, try not to cause too much trouble for your niichan.”

“haii~!” and with that agreement, the two children spun of their heels while making claims who will win the next round of super smash bros in the living room. daichi folded his arms over his chest and i shook my head.

“what’s with that look sawa-kun?” i asked when i walked back further into their house and made my way to the kitchen.

“it’s nothing,” he replies with a broad grin. “so, lemon chiffon cake?”

“yeah,” i said sheepishly scratching the side of face. “it was the only cake they had left at the bakery.“

daichi came up behind me and wrapped his arms around securly around my waist and pressed his lips on to the side of by shoulder blades. 

“you didn’t have to sweetheart, but i appreciate it,” he whispered against my ear before the kettle on the stove started to whistle. he kissed my temple while i pulled out one of the chairs from the dining table. i wonder if he’d bring up the letter... i thought. we enjoyed the hot chocolate conversing about my travels throughout hong kong and on his side he told me about what i had missed out in the decade i was away. afterwards, we played a few rounds of smash bros with his siblings while he cut up his cake. although i think he knew i threw a few of those matches in favor for his siblings (and him) to win a couple rounds. 

“yeah! i won again!” the little sibling from earlier cheered raising the controller above their head. “did ja see? did ja?”

“hah, of course!” i said clapping my hands. “don’t frown,” i talked to the other one sitting in front of me on the floor. “i’ll teach you how to get better too.”

“alright one-san.” the child smiled, “best four outta seven?”

“you’re on ni-chan!”

==[a couple hours later, 23:45]==

the sawamura’s house was filled with dimmed lights while the television in the main room played the international news for the fireworks displays. his parents were busy tucking in the younglings in their shared room, soon bidding me goodnight and happy new year with a red small envelope.

“y-you didn’t have to!” i said holding the envelope since they were persistent in not taking it back. “thank you!”

“happy new year go-chan. daichi, walk her home not too late, yeah?” his mother instructed nodding to the time. daichi agrees with a nod of contentment.

we sat on the couch side by side discussing our plans for the future after the spring tournament. i leaned my head against his shoulder.

“what about you, go-chan?” daichi asked after he explained his goals for wanting to major in criminal justice to enter the police academy in our prefecture.

“i think i might focus on international affairs,” i mused. “maybe find work in a consulate office for japan’s side of things.”

“you’d do great no matter what you choose,” he said rubbing my shoulder with his hand. 

“i know that and you will be a great lieutenant someday,” i muse looking up at him. i studied his profile features from time to time.

“you really think so, huh?”

“of course i do! don’t sell yourself short my captain.” 

his laughter rumbled through his shoulders prior to kissing my temple when it had died down. he lowered the volume on the television and he suggests something i didn’t know he could do.

“dance with me?” he asks softly, his nose nuzzling the crown of my head. “the song doesn’t matter, ok?”

he helps me to my feet taking my hands in his. i put my left hand on his shoulder and his right hand on the small of my back; i held other hand with my right and folded it over the space that occupies his heart.

“you turned out to be a fine person,” i said as we swayed around the living room.

“so did you,” he compliments. daichi looks over my shoulder as he stops for a moment and pulls my body closer. 

“we should stop dancing for a bit,” i suggest. 

“we have stopped.” his breath fans across my face while he raises a palm to my face. his thumb runs across my lips; as our lips pressed on to each other’s, i hear the announcers’ countdown. expelling a puff of air as we both exchanged a smile, i bit my bottom lip before he spun me around. 

“ahah! woah, slo--mmf!”

5...4...3...2...

one more time our lips met. his hand moved slightly away from my back and cliumbed higher to guide my neck into coaxing me to deepen this innocent kiss.i tilt my head more to the side feelling my partner dip me slightly as i meld into his kiss further. our last kiss of the year carried over into the new one thus sealing a childhood promise made on a swing set over a decade ago:

“daichi! wanna go watch the clouds today?”

“go away go-chan! i’m sick.” my classmate coughed a little and wheezed shortly thereafter. his mask had a little cute outline of a bird on the corner.

“aww, ok dai-kun. maybe you can watch from the windows?”

he nods to me and i return it with a nod.

“i’ll see ya tomorrow, ok? feel better daichi!”

at home, my dad asked me how school was and i explained to him how one of my best friends got a real bad cold. i also told my dad i didn’t get a chance to say good-bye so instead, i told my classmate we’d watch the clouds tomorrow, but that day never came since the flight to move was already scheduled for two days after that. i made two paper cranes that night and asked my mom to drop it off at school for me when she got a copy of my teacher’s reports.  

“class settle down please. we have a guest today. this is ana-sama. go-chan’s mom. she has some news to share with everyone...”

==[the letter]==

my first love,

happy eighteenth birthday dai-kun! cheers to you love. you’ve come so far without me by your side for a while, but we’re here together now. and for that, i am grateful. i’m sorry i couldn’t watch the clouds with you when you got better. although nowadays i’m glad you & i hide out in the roof during lunch sometimes, haha. oh! did i tell you how proud i am of you for leading your team to the spring tournament this year? i knew you could do it.

my wish for you this year? for you tomake more memories with not only me, but with the rest of the team. continue to be a good leader. whatever the future holds for us, know that i will always love you most earnestly. win or lose, i’ll always believe in you. don’t forget this feeling of being loved as you are. let’s make this new year a fun one! 

( ･_･)♡ 

go-san 

P.S. care to watch the clouds with me?

[silverlysilence]

The Thief that Stole a Death

Inspired by @fabllama02 and @spyritevesta

For some reason, my brain took their Pirate!AU and thought, hey, pirates steal, thieves also steal, let’s roll.  This is what came out.

Hiccup stared down at the photograph.  There was nothing interesting about the composition or the lighting of it that should have held a person’s attention so fiercely.  Nothing like the beautiful winter landscape photographs blown up and proudly displayed in various frames around his office.  No, this was a plain picture of a white pedestal against a white background. The only splash of color was the black vase with gold inlay sitting on the pedestal.  It looked awful, just like a police photograph.

But that was what it was after all.  A police photograph of what could very well be the next target in a string of robberies. If his hunch turned out to be correct.  It was hard-pressed to be certain with the string of robberies spanning over five years at the least since they still weren’t certain if some of the thefts could be attributed to the thief or not.  Whoever they were, they left no calling cards or an identifiable pattern to follow.  They were a ghost for all intents and purposes.

Save for one blurry picture.

Glancing up, vivid green eyes stared at the 5x8 that hung dead center in the pegboard surrounded by far too many newspaper clippings and photographs. It was far more gruesome than the photo he held in his hand despite the grainy image.  Two bodies sprawled across the ground, blood pooling around each in what would be a death sentence if not for the hooded figure kneeling in front of the first body.  Even if the camera only caught the back of the figure, it was easy to see the person was applying pressure to the victim’s chest.

Subconsciously, Hiccup reached up and ran his hand over where the scars of the bullet wounds marred flesh beneath his shirt.  A phantom pain pulling a grimace across chapped lips.  He didn’t remember much about that night.  There were fragments. The sound of gunfire, followed by a canine yelp and the pain of armor-piercing rounds ripping through his flat jacket.  There was the heavy metallic smell of blood lingering as tires squealed and a sickening crunch as pure agony radiated from his left leg, causing him to blackout.

Then, there was the cussing and irate voice hissing at him to hold on as a weight settled on his chest. If he really thought about it, he swore he’d opened his eyes a sliver and saw a halo of white.  However, he couldn’t be sure if the pain hadn’t distorted his recollection, which was what he told his captain when he came to in the hospital, and only after the man assured him his K-9 partner made it through his own surgery as well.

At the time, he thought Captain Grimmel wanted a description of his savior to commend the good Samaritan. It was only months later he came to find out that the good Samaritan who had worked to save both his and Toothless’s lives just happened to have robbed a jeweler a street over at the same time the drug bust had gone down.  In their hast to flee when the ambulance finally showed up, the stolen Fabergé egg was found clenched in Hiccup’s bloody hands.

Hiccup could have just left it at that.  However, something was just a little off.  Why would a thief who’d just stolen a Fabergé egg worth a couple of million easily stop and help him?  A cop of all things.  A little digging into the stolen Fabergé egg turned up that it had been stolen three years prior. Moreover, the name on file as the owner of the Fabergé egg in jeweler’s ledger was fake and the information led to a dead end.

Hiccup had been given a commendation for the retrieval of the Fabergé egg when all of it had come out into the open.  He didn’t feel like he’d earn the commendation.  If things had ended there, he might have let it go.  However, on his first day back on the job—simple desk duty due to the loss of his foot—there was a box waiting in his new office with a clipping of the newspaper article showing him personally handing the Fabergé egg back to the rightful owner.

He hadn’t known what to think of it at the time.  Maybe a gift from his fellow cops as a welcome back present but once he opened it that was the last thing on his mind.  For there, inside the velvet-lined case, was a delicate crystal figurine with the famous missing cat-eye emeralds for eyes.  The first of many valuable lost treasures to appear in his mail, on his desk, and one memorable time, in his freezer.

“Hic, are you in here again?” a silvery voice had the lead detective of the white-collar department looking up to see concerned amber eyes staring at him.  Walking into the small office, the brunet paused to trail his fingers against the 5x8 photo, lingering for just a moment.  “Searching for your Guardian Ghost Thief again?”

“Jackson, I wish you wouldn’t call him that,” Hiccup sighed as he set the photo down and began replacing the various documents back into the open file with the only picture they had of the Black Jade vase.

Feeling warm arms wrapped around his neck from behind, he relaxed back into the chair as Jackson propped his chin on top of auburn hair.  “What else am I supposed to call him? You’ve already nixed Guardian Angel, Swiper No Swiping, and my favorite, Cupid.”

“This is the reason you’re naming privileges have been revoked.”

“I still stand behind my reasoning. If this mysterious thief hadn’t saved you that night, you would have never accidentally photo-bombed by picture and we would have never met,” Jackson hummed, causing vivid green eyes to slid over towards said framed photo of him and Toothless walking through perfectly pristine snow.  It was breathtaking in its simplicity but that was probably more the sentimental value speaking.

“While true, we are still not calling him Cupid.  We don’t even know if he is a him anyways,” the detective sighed.

“Oh, all right, have it your way,” the brunet laughed, kissing him on the temple before pulling again. “I just came to tell you I’m heading out for my run and I should be back in an hour or so.  Depends where my legs take me or if I find some inspiration.  Don’t stay in here too much longer, Toothless will want his nightly walk soon.”

“Can’t you just take him on your run?  He likes you and I’d feel safer if you weren’t running around alone in the dark.”

“Ah, don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself,” Jackson grinned as he headed for the door. “Besides, I wasn’t going to stick to running, there’s this new parkour move I saw online I wanted to try for myself.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Hiccup relented.  “Fine, just be careful and take your phone with you.”

“Don’t I always?”

“No.”

“Lies!  I do too.”

“You just forget to charge it. That’s the same thing.”

“Why did I marry you again?”

“Because of my charming good looks?”

Jackson stopped at the door and looked at him with a critical eye.  “No, I’m pretty sure I married you out of love.  For Toothless. You two just came as a package deal.”

“Ouch, I know where I stand in this relationship,” Hiccup attempted to pout, but his lips kept twitching upwards in amusement.

“Well, I’m sure we can reevaluate your current standing after I’ve had my run. Maybe move it up a few notches.  Say, in bed?”

“I like the sound of that.”

“I can’t wait,” Jackson came back to leave a taste of what was to come later in the night, leaving Hiccup breathless as soft lips pulled away.  “Love ya, Hiccup.”

“Love you too; be safe.”

Jackson just laughed as he slipped through the door and headed for the front door, grabbing his phone and keys on the way out.  Humming, the brunet started at a slow pace, steadily increasing his speed so by the time he veered off into a dark alley, he had enough speed to make it a good five steps up the wall to grab the fire escape ladder.   Swinging himself up, he vaulted off the rail and grab hold of the drainpipe which he took to the roof.  

Heading for the HVAC system, he pulled a panel off the side and collected the duffel bag from within. From there, he quickly changed into the clothes waiting for him and made sure to place all his personal belongings, especially his phone, into the bag.  The blue-tinted contacts were a bit harder to put on without a mirror, but once they were in place, the darkness of the night vanished with the night-vision lenses.

Removing his Airpods, he replaced them with two odd-looking electronic pieces that wrapped around the shell of his ears and were virtually unnoticeable. Tapping the right one twice, he felt more than heard the pieces humming to life and knew his hair had lost all color as a few strands of white hair fell in his eyes.  It was a weird glitch in the system that had presented in the prototype when the prototype was nothing more than a bulky laurel crown. He hadn’t minded and, in fact, insisted the upgraded version did the same as a disguise.

“Hello, Guardians. I’ve got our new mission,” Jack Frost, elusive thief, head up the police photo of the Black Jade vase he’d slipped from Hiccup’s file while he was preoccupied with their goodbye kiss. Even though he couldn’t feel it, he knew the contacts were active and transmitting the video feed. “It’ll be the perfect anniversary present for my hubby.”

“I am pretty sure your anniversary isn’t for another three months,” the delicate, feminine tones of the Tooth Fairy, the notorious White Hat Hacker, chirped over the comms.

“That’s my wedding anniversary. I’m talking about the night we liberated one of the Easter Bunny’s lost eggs.”

I have a weakness for the Good Thief.  So yeah, this is what I did yet again instead of writing on HoaDS.  Opps. 

[freedom-shamrock]

Bi the Pricking of my Thumbs #5

<< Chapter 4

Cautionary note: references past abusive/neglectful parenting.

Also on AO3. If you’re so inclined, feel free to support me over on Ko-Fi

Chapter 5

"Adrien! Nino's here," Papa's voice carried easily into Marinette's room. "Come down and help him carry up the snacks."

"Ooh!" Despite the last three weeks of freedom to eat, do, and be what he wanted, Adrien was still visibly excited about both the arrival of his boyfriend and unlimited Dupain-Cheng treats. "Coming, Papa."

Luka draped their arms over Marinette's shoulders, brushing their cheeks together. "It's nice to see him so happy."

"I know." She smiled, contentedly leaning against them. "Getting to be part of that really makes it all worth it." Adrien had the smaller bedroom, formerly the Dupain-Cheng guest room, and he insisted he didn't mind at all. But it was nice for them to have a place to hang out, all the teens that tended to show up usually in twos and threes, that didn't feel like they were taking over the living room. So Marinette rearranged part of her room, letting Adrien decorate it with beanbags and a ridiculous TV set up for movies and gaming.

"Is it weird having him as your brother now?" Luka asked, giving her temple a light kiss. "I mean, you had a crush on him for a couple of years, and he had a crush on Ladybug for about as long."

Marinette shook her head. "That all died down a long time ago, and he's been such a good friend to me on both sides of the mask." It had been a little terrifying when Luka first told her they'd figured out she was Ladybug. She was grateful they'd waited until after Hawk Moth was in police custody to reveal they'd known almost as long as they'd known each other. They'd also known Adrien's secret, but waited to bring it up until she knew. She and Adrien had decided to keep their superhero identities on a need-to-know basis, for now, at least, and most people didn't need to know.

"No, no, no," Adrien said from somewhere just below her bedroom door. "You go up first."

"You just want to watch me walk away," Nino teased.

"And your point is?" Adrien demanded.

Marinette could imagine his expression and the shrug he'd always used at Chat Noir, but never as Adrien. She giggled and crossed her arms so she could comfortably rest her hands on Luka's shoulders.

"Goodness he's more direct and sassy than he used to be," Luka said, smothering their own laugh in her shoulder. "That's nice, too.  No more guessing where he stands or what he wants."

"Hurry up, boys," Marinette called. "It's going to start in less than a minute, and I don't think we want to miss any of this."

Two sets of feet thudded up the stairs, as both Nino and Adrien carried up platters of treats, to set beside the TV. Adrien looked at Luka and Marinette, and she caught a glimpse of his plotting-Chat-Noir face. He swiftly flopped into the beanbag beside them, patting the space in front of him. "I saved a spot for you Neen."

Nino looked and rolled his eyes. "My butt is not nearly as small as Nettie's.  I'm not gonna fit there."

"I'll have you know," Marinette pointed out, "that my butt is bigger than it looks."

Adrien snorted with laughter. "You're not wrong. Henceforth I shall call thee…"

"No!  Absolutely not!" Marinette squirmed in Luka's hold to bat at Adrien's hand. "I will not answer to Ladybutt."

Luka buried their face in her neck, but she could feel them shaking with laughter.

Adrien flashed her the saddest kitten face is his repertoire. Then he turned it on Nino. "Come cuddle with me," he whined. "My sister is being so mean to me in this difficult time. I'm just a touch starved boy in need of emotional support."

Nino tipped his head back to look at the ceiling, before his posture sagged. "Fine." He drew the word out. "But we need to talk to your therapist about using your past trauma to manipulate your boyfriend."

"Yes!" Adrien moved back to provide a little more room. "I am your barnacle.  Come be my ship."

Marinette couldn't hold back the gales of laughter and she didn't even try.

"Dude…" Nino's face was red. "You can't just say shit like that." He settled into his designated spot, not seeming to mind being pulled back against his cuddly boyfriend.

The news show returned from its commercial break, and Marinette snatched up the remote to unmute the audio.

"Welcome to today's first segment of Face to Face, I'm your host Nadja Chamack." The familiar news anchor sat on her pristine couch, but there was no one across from her, signaling that this would not be her usual show. "I'm breaking from format tonight to share a recorded interview with Adrien Agreste from last night. As all of Paris is aware, Adrien's father, Gabriel Agreste was apprehended at Paris Pride Fortnight last month by none other than Ladybug and Chat Noir. With the revelation that Monsieur Agreste was the villain Hawk Moth, the value of his fashion house plummeted, and his son vanished from the public eye." She looked straight into the camera, all good humor wiped off her face, an effect that was creepy. "Last night, Adrien shared with me a story of a broken home. Please be advised that the content of this video includes a frank discussion of child abuse which may be distressing to some viewers."

The camera focused on Nadja's screen, where photos and videos were usually displayed.  And after a moment, the studio faded in from black, revealing Adrien sitting on the guest couch.

"Thank you for meeting with me Adrien," Nadja said, her voice much less chipper than usual.

Adrien nodded. "Thank you for having me.  And for being willing to do this on my terms." Being able to record the show, instead of performing it live, had been his therapist's suggestion for keeping his anxiety at bay.

Nadja smiled, tipping her head slightly. "First, I wish to offer my condolences. This must be a very difficult time."

"It's weird," Adrien admitted. "It's both difficult but also the easiest thing I've ever done." His hand came up to rub at the back of his neck.

"Can you tell me what's difficult about it?" she asked gently.

"It's... " He stared off into space a moment. "It's hard to wrap your head around something like this. I mean. I knew my father was not a particularly nice man. But I had no idea he was Hawk Moth. It's... " He huffed. "I ask myself at least ten times a day why I didn't see it, how I didn't realize I was living with a terrorist."

"That does sound really difficult," Nadja agreed. "But you know Paris doesn't blame you, right?"

He gave her a rueful smile. "Thank you. I appreciate it every time someone tells me that." He shrugged. "I guess I'm harder on myself than everyone else is."

"What about the situation has been easy for you?" Nadja asked.

"I'm actually happier than I've ever been." Adrien's real smile lit up the screen. "One of my very best friends had already asked her parents if I could move in with them before the arrest."

"Before?" Nadja asked.

Adrien nodded. "Things were… not good living with my father. And she'd seen that, and made a contingency plan for me." He chuckled. "That's just sort of the way she is."

Luka snorted.

"Shush, you." Marinette poked him gently in the thigh.

"And after the arrest, it really made the most sense to just go with that plan." Contentment was clear on TV Adrien's face. "I haven't had a real family since… well… possibly ever. I mean, things were better when my mom was around, but my father was already so controlling, even back then. When she vanished, it just got worse." He sighed. "I have new parents now. We're working on the adoption process."

"Adoption?" Nadja asked in surprise. "Aren't you seventeen? Why would you look at adoption at this point?"

"Do you have a family, Nadja?" he asked softly.

She nodded.

"I really, really want that," he explained. "And I want to know that I'm going to have that for the rest of my life. I love having people I can call mama and papa. I never called my father that. There was… a lot of distance between us. A lot of neglect and unreasonable expectations. I know Papa is proud of me. There was no way Gabriel Agreste was ever going to be proud of me."

"Gabriel neglected you?" she asked. It was clearly the first she'd heard this detail.

Marinette reached out to rest a hand on Adrien's shoulder as the TV version of himself nodded. "It was common to go weeks without seeing him, though we lived in the same house. I ate meals alone, when we were scheduled to eat together. He forgot about my birthdays and stopped celebrating holidays that were important to my mom. He'd promise to show up for things, only to no-show. If I got upset about anything, he'd tell me I was too emotional, and threatened to take away what few freedoms I had.  School was a common one."

Nadja stared at him, silent for a moment. "He threatened you because you had emotions?"

Adrien nodded.

"And… school? What do you mean?  How did he use that as a threat?"

"I was homeschooled for years, you know," he said, conversational and bright. "I begged to go to school so I could make friends. I felt like Pinoccio, a puppet who wanted to be a real boy. I actually had to run away to school, repeatedly, before he let me attend." He sighed. "But I think he just wanted leverage.  The threat of pulling me out of school would get me to cooperate with all sorts of stuff I didn't want to do."

Nadja covered her mouth, looking ill.

"Did she throw up during your interview?" Nino asked. His voice was rougher than usual. Even though he'd already heard all of this, it was still upsetting him.

"No… well, not while I was there," Adrien said. "But it gets better here." He pointed to the screen.

"You're incredibly resilient, Adrien," Nadja said softly. "How about you tell me about your clothes." She gestured to his outfit. "This is a new look for you, and it looks fantastic."

On-screen Adrien grinned and stood up to give the camera the full effect. "Yeah. This was made by my best friend. She has an online shop by the name of Maribug, and she's designed a whole new wardrobe for me."

"It's quite striking," Nadja said. "Much more vibrant than what we've grown accustomed to."

Adrien nodded. "Yeah. My father used to tightly control what I was allowed to wear. He wanted me to project an image of bland perfection. Maribug really knows me, though. And since my father deprived me of the opportunity to come out during Pride, she's created some outfits that fit my aesthetic preferences while also evoking the bi pride flag."  The shirt was a pink asymmetric v-neck, with an off-center front zip. His belt was a bold purple. His pants were bright blue and snug, showing off the body Chat Noir had built up.

"Oh," Nadja said in surprise. "Congratulations."

Adrien swiped the remote and muted it again. "The rest is just niceties. You've all heard me say goodbye before."

"You meant it when you said you were happy, right?" Nino asked, twisting to look at his boyfriend.

Adrien nodded. "Really, really happy," he promised.

"I'm glad for you," Luka said. "You deserve it."

"Now that, that's out of the way," Adrien said, leaning forward and nudging the DVD player. "It's time to introduce you all to Nanatsu no Taizai. You're gonna love it."

⁂

Again, huge thanks to @galahadwilder for letting me have a go at this. I really enjoyed it, and it was nice to get to share this side of Pride.

And thanks to all who have read and commented, helping me stay motivated to finish this despite my busy schedule. I'm glad you joined me for this journey.

[jenniferhettenbach]

Inside the Whale

This is something I wrote for a class I'm taking.

Inside the Whale

By Jennifer Hettenbach

If there was a response to my outburst, I didn't hear it. The only thing I could hear or focus on was the rapid building pressure, the emotion that roared inside my head, the numbness inside my fingers and toes, inside my chest, as if I could feel my body clamp down and try to keep me from exploding all over the small room. It wasn't working. Something was breaking in me, the pressure too much to hold back any longer. The fight to keep tears corralled behind closed lids to spilled over and roll down my cheeks. Pushed too far, and now I had gone crazy.

Society doesn't think much of people like me, low-wage workers, mothers, fathers, those of us who might have made a wrong turn or misjudged a step a time or two, us unskilled workers. Those of us who didn’t start with a leg up or even a lot of choices to begin with. Those of us who stock shelves, run registers, bring the food to your table, make overpriced coffee taste nothing like coffee or fulfill your online orders. We are all too often treated not like human beings, but cogs in a machine where our wants and needs don't matter. Where we don’t matter. Treated as if we deserve to struggle, to do without, abused and used because we didn’t make better choices, we weren’t born into different families didn’t try harder.

Society doesn’t take into consideration the brutality of low wage work. The constant stress, worry, of an unstable, unreliable, unrelenting job day in and day out with no promise of reward or finish line (Guendelsberger 10). A corporation that changes the rules as often as they change their CEO’s, to the benefit of its appearance rather than the toll of its employees. Or the manager who doesn’t pitch in when the work is in the weeds. Coworkers who look for a simple way out or customers who use you as a punching bag. Low wage work is “dehumanizing” (Guendelsberger 10) degrading and relentless.

I’d worked for Wally-World for almost four years when management approached me about a job. A supervisory position for the unloaders, someone to run the crew of maybe ten to fifteen people who unloaded the eighteen-wheeler trailer trucks and sorting merch for both the grocery side of the superstore and the G. M (general merchandise).

“You should apply for the position, Jennifer,” Larry, a support manager I had taken a liking to since he first appeared less than a year ago. We had a lot in common, as we both seemed to share that, “I’m not taking any more shit from you” vibe about us. When he worked, he often stopped by wherever department I was in to shoot the shit, but that night he had something different on his mind.

“I don’t know, I have a low tolerance for people, and even less for their bullshit,” I had told him between opening and breaking down cardboard boxes.

“Why do you think they always put you one the heaviest freight, Jennifer? Because you go in there and get the job done without having to have someone looking over your shoulder all the time. That is the kind of person this job needs. I think you will get the hang of the people in no time.”

And right there was my first mistake. I let myself be flattered by compliments, sucked into that game of sweet talk, none of which helps me pay my bills. One of my many flaws has always been looking for the approval of others, and when that approval comes with a side of encouragement, I let myself believe that other people know me better than I know myself. And what follows is the inevitable ignoring of that little voice in my head saying, “this is a bad idea.”

I took this news home and told anyone who would listen that there was a promotion available, and I was thinking of applying for it. I wanted advice, I wanted thoughtfulness, I wanted praise for my hard work. I wanted someone to tell me that I could do this job, but there was no one who could tell me what I wanted to hear. I had to find out on my own. I also talked to the higher ups, including the store manager, Daryl who would oversee the new spots. A fact that only added to the jobs appeal. I had worked for Daryl on the overnight shift, and I had liked him. He was easy to talk to, nice, and always made the crew under him feel like they were all working toward the same goal, unlike other managers I had worked for when they feel as if their crew should shutter at the sound of their voice.

The interview was conducted by Daryl, which he explained to me in detail what the job consisted of and what my responsibilities were, there was even talk about how my application bumped other applicants down a notch. A nugget that again stroked a very neglected part of my ego and started to add strength to my confidence. It felt good. And I was determined to get this job right. It didn’t take long for word to come back on my favor, a first for everything.

For about a minute and a half I was, dare I say, proud of myself. These people I had been working for, with had thought well enough of me and the job I had been doing to put me in charge of a bigger job. They didn’t think of me as trouble or a liar or untrustworthy, or a screwup. They trusted me to get the job done. I had earned it.

Hold onto something because here comes my second mistake.

I took the job as Cap Team Supervisor with the understanding of how things were going to run and who would be running them. I had asked all the questions and gotten all the answers, these were major factors in the decision of taking the job. But as always, nothing could be trusted, or counted on. From the start I had felt overwhelmed, unsupported, and left out there to survive on my own. Depending on what manager was on duty was the difference in answers or instructions. While one team of management might tell us to focus on the sort of the truck, the other on another day would tell us we needed to get the departments on the floor worked. Work unfinished by other shifts, departments, or just other employees often fell to the Cap Team to clean up or finish. Overstock that should have been binned on shelves in the back were left on carts we needed to sort incoming freight. Wrapped pallets of overstock taken down off a high stack to fetch one item would be left where it sat on the dancefloor.

Maybe it was Wally World Inc. or the store manager, Bret, or maybe it was Daryl himself, but one of them reached down and grabbed the edge of my metaphorical rug and yanked. Before I knew it, I was ass over elbows.

In a quick succession of moves, the job I had signed up for evaporated. The man in charge moved to another shift. Replaced by a mouthy little shit that loved the sound of his own voice more than any one of those plastic dolls on one of those “Real Housewives” shows. He thought a lot of himself, and I could feel it roll off him even before he opened his mouth. I had been in one of the outer offices complaining about one thing or another and looking for suggestions or resolutions to the problems that seemed to be piling up around me.

“I have big plans on how we can change this system and make it better, more efficient and less waste of time,” Danny had said sitting in the corner of the office looking at his phone the first time I saw him. That office was always crowded with management, a place employee out on the floor said they went to hide so I hadn’t paid him any attention. I didn’t know who he was or why he was commenting on a conversation he hadn’t been invited into when Daryl was nice enough to clue me in.

“Oh, this is Danny. He will be taking my place as Cap Team Manager.”

I didn’t like him from the jump. He wore his sunglasses on his head and spoke as if all the problems we had would simply vanish once “wait until they get a load of me”. And as much as I hoped that were true, I had my doubts. It didn’t take me long to realize that our new leader was there under his own set of skillful praise.

Our replacement leader was not only wanting the usual the two, sometimes three, truckloads of freight unloaded and sorted but was also looking to impress the elders. He volunteered us to have more and more departments on the floor stocked by the time the night crew came into stock. All of this with a constantly fluctuating crew of hires, fires, and quitters, not to mention the ones who were always continuous and on more than one occasion violent.

“Davidson!” I had shouted over the sound of rollers on the line, a stretchable line of rollers carrying boxes down off the truck and to the guys sorting it at the other end. Davidson, a new hire, was the size of a football player and easily must have weighed 400 pounds. He had only been working a week and even though his temper was quick triggered, he could throw an entire truck from one end to the other without complaint. The problem was he had a nasty habit of shoving the boxes down the line as if he were launching grenades at the enemy. Doing so, damaged freight, sent freight off the line and smashed fingers of the guys on the other end.

“Davidson!” I shouted again, trying to get his attention. When he finally looked at me, I felt a little spooked by the look on his face. “You are pushing too hard again!”

“Man, why don’t you tell these assholes to hurry the hell up!” he shouted back at me. “Look at the line, its packed full again!”

“Yes, I know, it does that when they have to move and reset pallets.”

“Fuck that!” he shouted and started down the line of rollers violently forcing the line of boxes to spill out onto the floor and bunch together. Boxes of every shape, size and weight spilled out onto the floor of both the trailer and the dance floor where guys on the other end shouted for the line to stop. But all I could do is watch this brute of a man as he stormed toward me. The only thing I could think was, “I hope he hurts me because I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

For this job, I had stepped so far outside my comfort zone, so far outside the box, so far away from what I am and who I am, I couldn’t even find my comfort anymore. I was miserable and unhappy. All I thought about anymore was work. How to deal with it. How to survive it. I took a job I thought I could learn how to do and found myself drifting alone out at sea without a harbor insight. I did the best I could with every ounce of myself, and with little to no help or advice from the upper management. I felt used.

I knew even before I pushed open that heavy wooden door leading into the small manager’s office, that my six-month performance review was going to be a far cry from the positive reviews I had received before. But I didn’t really know how bad until I opened the door and found not one but three managers sitting around the tiny room, none of them make eye contact.

Walmart has a policy that when reviews or talks are given there is supposed to be another person in the room as a witness to what happened. The fact that Danny, thought he needed two other people with him meant that he was concerned with how that little meeting was going to go. It was unlikely that he was concerned that my happiness at my good review would send me into such gleeful hysterics that I would be unable to control myself and he would need these other two to pull my fat ass off him. I thought I felt something hit the floor between my feet, turned out it was that last bit of heart.

Standing there in that manager's office that day, my fight-or-flight mechanism twitched. It felt like a morgue, as if no one wanted to be in there, especially me. I thought I was going to be fired. I had wished, contemplated, threatened, and screamed and maybe even prayed a little over the past months for the strength to quit, to walk out of that building and never come back. But I hadn't, I kept pushing, kept trying to get it right. I tortured myself for absolutely nothing.

“Come in, have a seat, Jennifer,” Danny said, speaking first, and I did, reluctantly.

The small office was square in shape with just enough room to hold two desks on either side of the room. One desk was held a computer, files, and manuals, while the one across from it seemed to be the catch all for everything else that came into the room. Four plastic chairs filled the space between the desk, all but one was occupied. The room felt tighter than it had before, and I felt a twinge of claustrophobia, another kick to my fight or flight. To give myself a little room, I leaned my butt against the catch all desk and put my feet in the chair, giving Danny my undivided.

Danny sat with his back to the computer, papers in his hands. I had tried to like him; some days were easier than others. He was an average guy with average looks, but something about him just told you a bald head and beer gut was somewhere in his future. He had thin blonde hair, combed back from his face, and usually topped with his sunglasses, but not that day. He was one of those guys who was always warning people about what a bad ass he was which was probably one of the first things I didn’t like about him.

Brandon, the overnight manager, sat in front of the door, opposite of Danny. Handsome, sweet, and a good personality with a fondness for bike riding and music. I don’t think I ever saw him get upset, though I did see reflections of a bad day set in his face, though he never took it out on people. There was a woman there, but I cannot remember who she was and if she said anything I don’t remember what it could have been.

“As you know, it's time for your six-month review,” Danny started, some papers sitting on his crossed legs.

Sitting on the desk, my hands gripping the edge to the point of pain. I leaned on my hands, and let my head fall between my shoulders. I don’t know if my brain registered what he was saying at first or if I was just trying to save myself the disappointment of hearing it all by only reaching out to grasp ahold of certain words--

“--giving you the lowest score possible--”

“--this job isn’t for you--”

“--not good with people--”

“--complaints against you--”

Every word felt like a blow to my self-esteem, the pain of complete failure. I felt like an idiot. Nothing I had done, nothing I had tried to do, pushing myself out of my comfort zone, driving myself crazy with anger and frustration to do a good job did any good. It didn't matter that Danny had never pulled me aside and told me there was a problem. It didn't seem to matter then when the company instigated a new protocol; they asked for time to iron out the kinks; a courtesy not allotted to me. Danny gave me the lowest score allowed, so all the other scores I had received before this, all the hard work I did before, wiped out.

There was something about me that Danny didn't like, but the reason is unclear. I know that when he first arrived and increased our workload without the stabilizing the workload, we already had; I told him so. When a former manager I worked under came back as a regular Joe and didn't like me telling him what to do, tried to rile up the crew against me. I didn't hide my anger at him for putting me through it. Maybe it was me not liking him. I have never been good at hiding my disdain. And as he was reading off my review, he had made no effort to hide himself. Afterword, I heard rumors about his distaste for women who were less than cooperative. Of course, people could have just been saying that to be sympathetic.

I don’t know if it were the tears, I could no longer hold back or the feel like something alien like was about to come through my chest, but I very much needed to be out of that room and away from that man. Before anyone could move, I was on my feet weaving through legs and chairs, passed Danny and the witness to my humiliation, fighting to get out that door as if the room were on fire, mumbling through a tight throat and dry mouth about needing a minute. I weaved I was in a full-blown panic, but there wasn’t any relief on the other side of that door.

I poured out of that tiny office as if there hadn’t been enough air inside and hoped to find a great big lungful of relief in that grey hallway that ran the length of the store. To my annoyance, I only found more people. I had to get away from people. The voices, the energy, the words felt like fingers touching me, agitating me, holding me down and keeping me there. If I didn’t, I would draw attention, attention I didn’t want or need, and eventually someone would ask what was wrong, a question my ego wasn’t ready to admit out loud; that I’d been an idiot and a fool to think that hard work and determination would get me through, would earn me a little corrective feedback if I were doing it wrong or maybe a little respect. But apparently, that was another one of those fairy tales like unconditional love and they create all men equal.

There wasn’t a lot of praise in my family. Or understanding, support, or emotion for that matter. My mother was one who couldn’t hide her distain either, though hers was directed at me. She hated everything about me and wasn’t shy about telling me about it. She never would admit she didn’t like me, but I could feel it. She hated me for making her a mother, and maker her feel things she didn’t want to feel; like guilt at not being around. I tried everything to win her love. Changed who I was, what I want, what I looked like, but there was always something. It wasn’t until she got a call from Texas, two states away from her Kansas home. A man she barely knew on the other end. He was fighting with me, hitting me, spitting on me, and he was calling so she could listen. The man continued his tirade, cursing me, punching me, backing me into the corner of the room. On his way out of the room, he picked up the phone to tell her, I was a whore before throwing the phone down and leaving the room. When I felt safe enough to go for the phone, some part of me thought she might ask if I was alright, I was wrong. “How could any daughter of mine be so stupid?”

I squeezed past people, elbowed through groups and freight being rolled this direction or that, mumbling something that sounded perversely polite. I burst through the swinging double doors that lead out of the back and onto the sales floor. I was somewhere between the men’s department and the shoes when I caught sight of Carmon, someone I considered a friend, and she of me.

“Jennifer, what’s wrong?” the small woman said moving toward me. For the briefest of seconds, I wanted to tell her, “I fucked up!” I wanted to let go of all that anger and frustration, hurt and outrage, but I stopped myself. If I opened my mouth and let it out, it probably wasn’t going to be pleasant, or kind or quiet for that matter. I liked Carmen, she had been sweet to me when I first started, and even bought me a cake and present for my birthday once. I didn’t want to take this out on her. Before she could get to me, I waved a hand at her and hurried away, cutting through the baby department into the men’s department.

I dodged and weaved past people, carts, displays and shelves until I burst out into the night air, taking a sharp deep breath as if coming up from underwater. I moved out of the flow of traffic coming in and out of the store and over to the side of the building where there were no people and no lights. The cool night air felt good on skin soaked in sweat and heated with fever. I took long, deep drags of smoke, held it in my lungs before blowing what my lungs didn’t absorb out through my nostrils.

A smile that held no laughter spread across my face as my tightened throat grew unbearable as I completely let go. The tears that had all fallen where joined by others and leaning against the cement building, I slide down the wall until my ass met the ground. You idiot! You stupid fucking idiot! I wanted to scream, but the sight of customers passing by kept me from it, even in my state, I still tried to be a good employee.

I’m not sure how long I sat there on the dirty cement. I knew it wasn’t long enough, the only way it would have been to never have went back inside, and for a minute I thought about it, but even that was beyond my ability to do. My son was in there, working the third shift we had started together, but I had thought I was special, good. But there was also the freedom. My entire life had been at someone else’s discretion. I got married too young, had kids too young, divorced too young. Through all of it, I was helped by others until the choices I made for my life, my children’s lives were no longer my own. That job afforded me a freedom that I could have gotten nowhere else.

Once back inside the cell, I tried to busy myself with removing pens, printer pages, and lists that I always seemed to be stuffed or sticking out of some pocket or another. I stripped off the navy-blue vest with the built-in yellow target on the back in case an active shooter happened to wonder if half his work was already done for him, as Danny continued reading aloud my list of flaws and defects, rounding it off with my lack of civil tone.

“You have several complaints against you from your crew.”

“I give as good as I get, Danny! If they choose to be a constant pain in my ass, constantly take up time, constantly need attention and argumentative, we are not going to be buddies. This is a job not Romper Room!” I said, feeling my control slipping with every word I uttered. Out of the fifteen some odd guys that were on the crew at the time, I bet I could have narrowed down that list to the two or three that had the problem with me. They had had that problem since day one. Some of the guys didn’t like being put in departments where I needed them but wanted to be put in the departments where they wanted to go. They didn’t like that when they gave me shit, I gave it right back.

“Speaking of complaints, is there a reason why this review needs an audience?”

All three seemed to try and speak at once, but Danny’s voice won out. “There needs to be a witness…” Brandon jumped to his feet and volunteered to go as if he couldn’t wait to get out of that room. It wasn’t the only one feeling it. Danny continued to ramble about how much I suck and told me he couldn't make me quit the position, but he thought I would be better off as a department manager working by myself.

“Do you have any openings for department managers?” I’d asked, hoping to get away from him as fast as possible.

“No.”

I threw the nylon vest I had balled in my hands onto the desk behind him, by tomorrow the story would sound as if I threw a hammer at his head instead of a nylon vest. I was done. I was done with this conversation, with this company, with this whole job.

“And by that action, I can see I’ve made the right choice.”

As soon as I was out of that office, I was on my phone first texting my son who was at work somewhere in the building and then calling my husband. I was looking for support, compassion, an ally, but the more I told him the angrier I became. I had worked hard, done my best and gotten the work done. My voice became louder and louder echoing in the hollows of the back room. I felt out of control and on the verge of madness, while my husband kept telling me to stop and calm down before they fired me. His concern for the job, the paycheck, outweighed his concern for my pride, my hurt, my self-respect. I’m sure that if I had been in a different state of mind some part of me might have been able to understand that, but not nearly enough.

I quit my job as supervisor and went back to stocking shelves with my son for a couple more weeks at least. I saw Danny in the store from time to time until one day he was gone. I heard he took another job at another retailer. And one of the few females that had been on the unloading crew took my spot as supervisor, though I heard she didn’t fare much better.

I like to think I learned a little bit about myself. For one, I don’t play well with others. And I don’t like it when the fate of the project depends on others. Wally-World can say a lot of things about me, but they can’t say that I didn’t get shit done. After I left, I started looking for something better, something that might make me feel good about myself. Something to prove to myself that I am better than some egotistical blow hard. Something that said, not so stupid. I decided to go to college. I am currently working toward my bachelor’s degree in English and Creative Writing.

[mannartt]

AAATEE at MannArtt | The Best T Shirt Shop Online?

As you may or may not know, Mann is the primary designer, as well as the Creative Director, for AAATEE.com. We think with his talent, we will one day have the best t shirt shop online. Or a damn good one, anyway. Certainly when it comes to quality. I don't think we're ever going to compete on quantity. Some of these guys have a ten year head start on us, and have been pumping out ten (mostly crappy) shirts a day for years now. 'Cause guess what? Yeah. The t-shirt biz is like a lot of others – it's a numbers game. For every hit shirt you have, you have a few successful ones and a lot of flops. Hey, the public is fickle, and you never know what's gonna take off, and what isn't. And no, the fact your friends think a new design is badass has little to do with it. Sadly. Them's the breaks.

Made A Deal With... the Devil!

OG. Original Gamer.

Hope? Nope. Grope! So, "the best t shirt shop online." Are we there yet? Well, no. Not quite. In fact, we've got a ways to go. A long ways, actually. Our online journey (some would say mishaps and travails) has not been without complications. I'm going to address some of those here and tell you where we're headed. OK? Got it? Good. ;-)

Welcome to AAATEE. Sort Of. Kinda.

First off, to reiterate, without Mann, there would be no awesome, funny, badass, offensive t shirts for our endeavors, nor would there be much of a AAATEE to speak of. And as it happens, given the fact we're going through yet another major transition, he's best positioned to "show the flag" online while we sort things out. So, for right now and the foreseeable future, MannArtt will serve as the hub for AAATEE. Eventually, we'll get the whole mess sorted and become (ahem) the best t shirt shop online. Or something like it. Till then, please look for us here. Over the last few years, AAATEE has been going through various fire drills to try and come up with a business model that works online. We've been selling tees in the real world for a long time, so that's not the problem. In fact, it still primarily depends on that one thing you've heard lampooned before: Location, location, location!

It's not hard to sell your stylin' rags if you can put them in front of a lot of eyeballs. Do that, and you'll sell the hell out of 'em. If foot traffic is decent, you're golden. Which is why you've traditionally seen t shirt shops in places where lots of people gather, like malls, beaches, tourist spots, etc. It's the same online in that it's all about traffic. As with retail, you need to grab those eyeballs, hold them, and then hold them long enough to turn a lookie-loo in a buyer.

"Start A Tshirt Shop Online," They Said. "It's EASY!" They Said. "Go Ahead," They Said.

Having a t shirt shop online is actually a lot harder, in some ways, than in the "real world." Why? Because when you've actually got somebody in your store, they can't simply click a link and vanish – you "own" them, at least for a few minutes. Nor are they constantly being distracted by "outside" forces and/or bombarded with messages from other vendors (or if they are, you're an idiot). They're there, after all. In your store! Odds are, they're going to look around. Even if they don't buy anything at that moment, they know where you are and have a conscious memory of having been there ("Yeah, I like that t shirt shop over on Main. It's the best tee shirt shop I've been to around here..."). Online, if you lose them, don't have a way of reaching them again, and they didn't join your list (or at very least, bookmark your site), you're probably sunk. Odds are, you'll never see or hear from them again. It's as if your store vanished off of Main without a trace or worse yet, a memory... So, "they" (the experts) told us we needed to get online for two reasons: 1) it's easier and more lucrative than a brick and mortar store, and 2) retail is dying. Malls are closing, people aren't shopping in "the real world," like they used to. More and more commerce is happening online. Well, we can have a long debate at the veracity of #1, but there's no doubt about the truth of #2. Even in good locations, foot traffic has dropped by over 50% in recent years. Not good if you're a retailer, or a vendor to retailers.

It's really hard to sell your t shirts, mugs, hoodies and other goodies at this mall. So, towards the end of getting in the online game and having "the best tshirt site online," we've tried many different retailing platforms, from Amazon to Shopify, ecomm to Shopify, Etsy to Teepublic, and more promotion methods than we care to count. Part of the problem is that we're all very busy, which means we can't devote our undivided attention to something which pretty much requires it. AAATEE online was supposed to be a fun little side hustle, but that doesn't mean we don't want it to be lucrative and successful – which it hasn't always been. Like a lot of misguided online ventures (floundering around, trying to figure shit out), we've put cubic man hours into online only to get very little out of it. So, to say it's been asses and elbows, chaos and confusion, one clusterf*ck after another, and a major disappointment to boot, would be the understatement of all time.

You Can Help Us Make AAATEE The Best T Shirt Shop Online. How? Read On...

CLICK HERE for MORE... If you want to help us, there's several things you can do. And boy, will we appreciate it. Yeah! Thanks. :-D Furthermore, you'll earn all kinds of good karma, redeemable on your next reincarnation, so bear this in mind. ;-) Here's what you do... 1) Be sure to LIKE this page. 2) Share this page to your friends on social media. There are buttons floating along the side of this post made just for you. Or, use the LIKE button above, which also has share buttons. 3) Make a donation to Mann to keep him going, either via the LIKE button or via Ko-fi. 4) Get on the list, so we can keep you up to date, give you the inside skinny (including input on new designs), provide EXCLUSIVE products and discounts. No spam, no scam, no flim-flam, we promise. We do not now and never will share/sell/rent your info with other parties. Nope. Never. Not gonna happen. 5) Go to our page on Teespring, register if you haven't already, login and hit the FOLLOW BUTTON! In this regard, Teespring is like every other site these days: the more Likes you have (in this case, Followers), the better internal results you'll have.

CLICK IMAGE to visit our growing shop on TEEPUBLIC! We've got a lot more than tees, too. Phone cases, book bags, laptop and iPad cases, etc. CHECK IT OUT! ;-)

Plans for The Best T Shirt Shop Online. See Into the Future! (Whoo… Spooky).

CLICK HERE to Continue Reading… So as a result of our various misadventures, our stuff is scattered hither and yon across a number of platforms all over the web. Sloppy, I know. Because of this, there's no one place (as of yet) where you can get everything at once. So what this means is, if you wanna buy, you're going to be going to Amazon, Etsy, Teepublic, etc.. Yeah, it's a kludge and we're unhappy about it. But them's the breaks (for now). For those who are interested, our current plan is to base our POD business – for about 100 different reasons we won't bore you with here – out of Teepublic, which, according to the criteria of some, already is the best tshirt site online. But like many others of it's type, it's actually a store of stores, if you will – a kind of mall of tee shirt designs. We love that it's an independent site supporting artists, we love that they don't micromanage you the way some big name sites do, and we love that they have so many additional products you can offer without onerous, time-consuming additional setups. Once Teepublic is fully fleshed out, we're probably going to retire the other sites we're working with. The reasons are many and varied, and many are far beyond the scope of this presentation, but if for no other reason than to simply things as much as possible, it's best for us to work out of ONE location, rather than keep juggling many. In the meantime, we're re-vamping AAATEE.COM for, well, like, the 100th time – or so it seems like. Stay tuned and we'll keep you posted. When it's time for the BIG ROLLOUT and PREMIERE, we'll let ya know.

President Trump, Liar in Chief.

It's not fantastic... it's FANAVERAGE!

Better Call Saul? Better bring the Lysol!

Come For A T Shirt, Stay For A Drink* (Well, A Mug).

One day soon (we're about 70% of the way there right now), you'll be able to get ALL of our cool, funny, badass and offensive designs at our new t shirt shop, and grab more than just shirts, homes. That's part of the point, for us. It's "one stop shopping" for you. Eventually, long haul, the plan is to build AAATEE into an ecomm store in it's own right, as we sorta did, a few years back, with Shopify. Only this time we'll be doing it entirely with Wordpress, which we can control 100% while not paying through the nose for the privilege. We hope you'll bear with us till then.

Breaking Bad Mug - "I AM THE DANGER" - Walter White aka Heisenberg - Available from our shop, and you know you gotta have one! In the meantime, links herein should take you right out to the platform to browse and buy. If there's any hesitation about signing up for yet another site... don't worry! You don't have to register or go through any malarky at Teepublic – you can buy as a guest! If you like our badass designs, we strongly urge you to sign up for our list. We DON'T bombard you with spam, and you'll be the first to know when Mann's got new designs in the works, and when they're going to be available. Please LIKE THIS POST and/or share us to Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, etc. Thanks! :-D *Now, about that drink... Read the full article

[josephkitchen0]

Starting a Petting Zoo Business

By Angela von Weber-Hahnsberg

Have you ever thought of starting a petting zoo business? Have you ever smiled at the sight of a teen’s cool facade vanishing, as they tentatively cup their hands to hold a fuzzy little duckling for the very first time? Or chuckled to see a toddler following a goat on unsteady legs, giggling delightedly, pudgy little arms outstretched? And in addition to all these warm fuzzies, do you need to bring in some extra money to pay the bills each month, or maybe even replace a lost income? Then why not make use of the resources you already have on hand—farm animals, land, and a love of sharing them with others—and try starting a petting zoo business?

As a way to generate income from a small family farm, starting a petting zoo business can make a lot of sense. If you already have an assortment of animals, then you’ve most likely already got the pens to keep them in. You’re already feeding and caring for them. Why not take the few extra steps needed to start a money-making agriculture business from the things you already do every day?

Putting together a detailed business plan is the best way to begin. The first thing you’ll need to decide is whether your petting zoo will be mobile or located on your property—or both! If you already have a trailer, and cages to transport smaller animals in, then a mobile petting zoo is a no-brainer. All you’ll need to add to the mix are portable pens to set up on location. Dianne Condarco, owner of Rancho Condarco, a mobile petting zoo based in Bailey, Texas, has this advice: “All of your animal transportation equipment needs to stay in good repair at all times. You also need to carry full coverage (insurance) on your vehicle. My husband has designed fencing for us that is sturdy and easy to carry and set up. We bought cages that open from the top to carry our small animals in, to make it easier to take them in and out. If you buy your cages and supplies in bulk, it will help keep your costs down.”

If you’d like to open your farm to the public, first double-check your zoning. Are there any deed restrictions on your land? Then take some time to consider the following: do you have an area that can be used for parking? What will be the ramifications of the increased traffic to your area? Is your current farm set-up conducive to a great guest experience, or does it need to be changed? Dave Erickson, owner of Erickson’s Petting Zoo in Osakis, Minnesota, has experience in this area: “Location is very important, also. Those who are close to major population centers have it the easiest for drawing large numbers of people.”

Your next consideration should be which services you’ll offer your customers. For an onsite petting zoo: Will your farm have certain hours when it’s open for business every day, or will you open by appointment only? Will you offer birthday or school field trip packages? What about holiday events, like pumpkin patches for Halloween, or bunnies and chicks at Easter? And for a mobile operation: Will you work large festivals? Birthday parties at private residences? Educational presentations at schools and libraries? How many hours will you stay at each event? Remember to take set-up, breakdown, and cleaning into consideration! Erickson gives us his own set-up as an example: “Our petting zoo is open daily from 10:00 a.m.–5:00 p.m. Our daily traffic varies from just a few families to more. We also host school trips in the spring and fall, travel to nursing homes and assisted living homes, and operate a mobile petting zoo and pony rides for festivals and fairs. From mid-September to Halloween, it’s the busy season on the farm, with our pick-your-own pumpkin patch and corn maze. As we have found out, families really enjoy coming out to a real farm to get their pumpkin. We offer a full range of fun activities for the whole family to make a day out of their trip.”

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The next decision you’ll need to make regarding starting a petting zoo business is which animals you’ll include. Condarco cautions, “Start small and grow as your business grows. Stay lean, and work smarter, not harder, by not having more animals than you need to provide your service.” You may be surprised to learn that there are different USDA laws regulating the care and exhibition of different animals. For example, throwing a few cuddly puppies in with your mix of farm animals might sound like a good idea—until you realize that the exhibition of cats and dogs is governed by a completely different (and much more complicated) set of rules than that of livestock. Guinea pigs and hamsters have their own set of rules, as do rabbits. So before you add Thumper or Hammy to the menagerie, you’ll want to read through the law, and see if the additional effort and expense is worth the benefit of including these animals.

Dianne Condarco holds one of her petting-zoo rabbits.

Speaking of the USDA regulations, the next step you take should be to order the Animal Welfare Act and Animal Welfare Regulations booklet from the USDA or access it online at www.aphis.usda.gov. Before you begin building new pens and duck shelters, or buying crates to transport animals in, you’ll need a thorough understanding of the rules governing animal enclosures. Ensuring that your petting zoo facilities are up to snuff is vital to the success of your business because you will have to be inspected and licensed as an exhibitor by the USDA before you can open to the public. Condarco tells us, “I was scared of the USDA licensing process—it looked so complicated. But my daughter just kept telling me to do it. She got the paperwork for me, and it really wasn’t as hard to do as I thought.”

Petting zoos are popular stops for school kids.

Getting your “Class C” license isn’t difficult, as long as you follow the rules. Those rules specify not only how your enclosures should be built, but also how your animals should be cared for. They dictate minimum cleaning and feeding schedules, as well as requiring that a veterinarian be formally retained by your petting zoo in order to monitor the animals’ health, such as chicken ailments. You will also be responsible for keeping records outlining your animals’ program of veterinary care, as well as the details of all animal purchases.

Once you have everything in place, you can pay the application fee of $10, and invite the USDA inspector for a visit. If you pass the inspection, you’ll be required to pay an annual licensing fee based on the number of animals in your petting zoo. For example, for 6-25 animals, you’ll pay $85, while a license for 26-50 animals will cost you $185. But be careful not to let your level of compliance slip—inspectors will make surprise visits every once in a while to make sure that everything is still hunky-dory.

You could take calm animals to nursing homes—where the animals are sure to be loved.

At this point, you’ll want to get a solid insurance policy to cover your fledgling business. No matter how many safety precautions you take, mixing kids and animals is always unpredictable. And as Condarco reminds us, “Liability insurance is important to protect yourself and your family. Many churches and cities will not even do business with you without it!”

Now, all that remains is to let the world know about your petting zoo. Erickson recommends holding a grand opening event with free admission: “We put an ad in the local newspaper that we were opening a petting zoo with an ‘Open Barn.’ Free food and admission sure work! And the local paper gave us a very nice article on what we were doing.” According to Condarco, “Google Adwords is the most efficient and cost-effective way to get business.” But both agree that a professional-looking website and a presence on Facebook and other social media sites are vital, as well. And of course, word of mouth advertising never goes out of style. “When you show up with healthy, clean, and happy animals,” Condarco says, “the word is passed around, and yes, word of mouth is still a great way to get business.”

So why not consider starting a petting zoo business? As Condarco says, “Be aware that you are not going to get rich running a petting zoo. But you can make money and pay your bills. You can be happy and live comfortably.” And Erickson reminds us that not all the benefits are tangible: “The biggest reward has to be the smiles on the faces, young and old, when they get the chance to be up close with the animals.”

Have you considered starting a petting zoo business? What are your concerns?

Originally published in Countryside & Small Stock Journal, September/October 2013 and regularly vetted for accuracy.

Starting a Petting Zoo Business was originally posted by All About Chickens

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Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/major-advertisers-helped-keep-fake-news-thriving/

Major advertisers helped keep fake news thriving

While many were focusing on fake news affecting the 2016 Presidential election, major corporations got a slap in the face when they were informed that they were unwittingly helping these same stories with advertising money. They didn’t realize this as website display ads aren’t programmed to tell legitimate news stories from false ones, but once the fake news investigations began, they quickly made sure their ads disappeared from the known sites.

It’s definitely a new world, and as many third party advertising services are able to filter for hate speech and adult content, knowing how to differentiate real and fake news is not so easy. Many advertisers still find themselves slipped into questionable sites without knowing it, but with fake news being such a hot topic, things will be changing again. Hopefully, this can lead to a new revolution in online advertising that winds up helping legitimate news sites as it’s gotten much harder for many to continue as those sources of income have dried up. Remember the Examiner? It was once one of the largest community news sites out there, but it had to shutter its doors last July due to ad income dying away.

Wittingly or not, major global corporations are helping fund sites that traffic in fake news by advertising on them.

Take, for instance, a story that falsely claimed former President Barack Obama had banned Christmas cards to overseas military personnel. Despite debunking by media and other fact-checking outlets, that article lives on at “Fox News The FB Page,” which has no connection to the news channel although its bears a replica of its logo.

And until recently, the story was often flanked by ads from big brands such as the insurer Geico, the business-news outlet Financial Times, and the beauty-products maker Revlon.

This situation isn’t remotely an isolated case, although major companies generally say they have no intention of bankrolling purveyors of fake news with their ad dollars. Because many of their ads are placed on websites by computer algorithms, it’s not always easy for these companies to steer them away from sites they find objectionable.

Google, the biggest player in the digital ad market, places many of these ads. The company says it bars ads on its network from appearing against “misrepresentative content” – its term for fake news – yet Google spokeswoman Andrea Faville acknowledged that the company had sold ads on the site with the Christmas-card story. Those ads vanished after media outlets inquired about them. Faville declined to comment on their disappearance.

ADS THAT GO WHERE THEY WILL

Media advertising was much simpler when companies had only to buy ad space in newspapers or magazines to reach readers in a particular demographic category. Digital ads, by contrast, can wind up in unexpected places because they’re placed by automated systems, not sales teams, and targeted at individuals rather than entire demographics.

In effect, these ads follow potential customers around the web, where a tangle of networks and exchanges place them into ad slots at online publications. These middlemen have varying standards and levels of interest in helping advertisers ensure that their ads avoid controversy.

“A brand wouldn’t have a real foolproof way of not getting on sites that have issues like this,” said Joseph Galarneau, CEO of the New York City startup Mezzobit, which helps publishers and marketers manage advertising technology.

AUTOMATIC FAKE-NEWS FUNDING

Such automated ads are a major income source for fake news stories, which may have influenced voters in the U.S. presidential election. False stories can undermine trust in real news – and they can be dangerous. A widely shared but untrue story that pegged a Washington, D.C., pizzeria as part of a Hillary Clinton-run child sex trafficking ring led a man to fire a gun in the restaurant.

This largely invisible web of automated exchanges and ad networks funds millions of online sites, from niche, small-traffic blogs to professional news and entertainment sites with audiences in the tens of millions. By tracking web users to smaller sites, advertisers can reach them more cheaply than by limiting themselves to “premium” websites like the Washington Post, CBS or ESPN.

The megaphone of social media can give marginal sites a big lift. When a fake-news story spreads on Facebook, lots of people end up on the article’s original site – and ads follow. The result: Big companies help fund some low-rent websites trafficking in conspiracy theories and other unverified claims, at the measly rate of a fraction of a cent per person per ad.

WHERE “FAKE” FALLS THROUGH THE CRACKS

While advertising technology vendors have safeguards in place to help mainstream advertisers avoid porn or hate speech, those don’t always work for spoof news sites, said Marc Goldberg, CEO of Trust Metrics. Advertisers pay him to keep them off unwanted sites.

That’s partly because “fake news” can be hard to define. And while advertisers can come up with “blacklists” of sites to avoid, there’s no guarantee that ad-tech vendors farther down in the food chain will honor it, said Susan Bidel, an advertising analyst for research firm Forrester.

Many publishers and advertisers use Google’s ad technology without having Google sell their ads. In those cases, Google’s misrepresentative-content policy doesn’t apply.

BRANDS IN A BIND

When the media pointed out that a Chrysler Ram truck ad popped up on a story saying that the United Nations was making the U.S. pay reparations to African-Americans – it’s not – Fiat Chrysler said it works with ad companies to scour individual sites and block them from loading its ads if it finds them “harmful.”

An ad for would-be Amazon rival Jet.com, owned by Walmart, showed up on a misleading story claiming California had legalized child prostitution . The company said in an emailed statement that it has filters that stop its ads from loading “on these kinds of sites,” but wouldn’t provide more detail or explain its criteria.

Walgreens ads also popped up next to the child prostitution story on the site The Red Elephants, but the drugstore chain has since prevented its ads from appearing there, a company spokesman said.

A person who responded to an email sent to The Red Elephants declined to discuss the site’s advertising but insisted that the child-prostitution story was true. The person declined to provide their name.

A Financial Times spokeswoman said in an emailed statement that the media company was “frustrated” to learn that its ads appeared next to fake news like the Christmas-card story, saying the situation underscored the “very real risk” of using automated ads. “We think the ad technology ecosystem could, and should, do more to improve brand safety,” she said.

Revlon declined to comment. A Geico spokeswoman said the company didn’t know about its ad that ran on the spoof Fox News site.

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